#Tommy's wants and needs and desires ALWAYS come first

[aurorawritestoescape]

I KNOW BETTER THAN TO CALL YOU MINE

Pre outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader || 7k

Summary: Joel lets himself have a treat. You.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, slight age gap (reader’s in her early 20s, Joel is 30), sex work, idiots in love, soft Joel, praise kink, size kink, f/m oral, cum eating, alcohol consumption, m!masturbation, sex toy usage, bondage, protected/unprotected piv, creampie, light pussy spanking, somno, aftercare, mention of degradation, pet names (baby, sweetheart, honey). Reader has hair, wears dresses. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: this is for @janaispunk ‘s 1500 kisses challenge. My prompt was ‘first kiss’ with Joel Miller. Congrats again, Jana, and thank you for the fun challenge!😘 The pic in the m/b is from this post by @liminaltourist. Hugs and kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘🫂 dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 The title is from the lyrics of ‘Let’s fall in love for the night’ by FINNEAS. Hope you will enjoy this story! Love you all!💖

MASTERLIST

Joel met you at Tommy’s birthday party and was instantly attracted to you. You were beautiful, sweet, funny, a little shy which he found charming. You told him that you worked as a waitress, meanwhile looking for a steady job after graduating college. He spent the whole night talking to you. The whole night being a couple of hours when he had a sitter for Sarah. Joel noticed a trace of sadness in your gorgeous eyes while you two were saying your goodbyes and for a second he regretted the way his life turned out. A single father at the age of thirty, working tirelessly to give his daughter the best life he could. But all the regrets vanished into thin air the moment he returned home and saw Sarah, sleeping peacefully in her bed. He planted a gentle kiss on her temple and quietly went to his empty bedroom. She was his life and he was ok with it.

Next time when Joel went out with Tommy for a drink, he asked about you in passing. He tried to make it seem like a simple curiosity but his younger brother still gave him a knowing smirk. Joel really liked you but his life was hectic enough. Work and being a single parent took all his time and he couldn’t squeeze in a relationship. He wouldn’t be a good boyfriend, he thought, and you deserved only the best. But your image— your eyes, your smile, your body, was flashing behind his eyes again and again, reminding him that he had needs and desires.

After a few beers and tequila shots, their conversation circled back to you and Tommy blabbed out that you worked as an escort. Joel was astonished. You seemed shy and sweet. He had never been against sex work but he always imagined a different type of people in that business. He didn’t know what to make of it but he felt his cock twitch, thinking of how sexually liberated you were.

He thought about asking for your number, but Tommy would tease him to death and he decided not to.

The next time you met Joel was at another Tommy’s party. Joel agreed to come, wanting to see you again. You talked and laughed like before but the air was almost electric between you two. The glances were darker, your hand brushing his skin here and there made him want more— touch you, feel you close against his body. He could save up and do all that if you agreed. So he made a decision and offered to drive you home when the party was over.

As soon as Joel parked his car at your driveway, he cleared his throat and asked if he could see you sometime.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Your voice was soft and a shy smile tugged at your lips.

“Ehm… fuck, I —I know what you do,” Joel admitted, turning to you slightly in the driver’s seat, “Tommy told me when he was drunk. Forgive him and me, please, ok? And— I don’t know what you call that, but— can I meet you for an appointment?”

Your face fell and you were blinking at him with a mouth agape. Joel’s heart froze- what if Tommy had been fucking with him and you didn’t sleep with people for money.

After a few longest seconds of his life, you took a deep breath and gave him a little nod. Joel asked you about the details and you explained to him what he needed to do to book a session with you and though you were talking about sex, it sounded cold and dry. You gave him a little smile before getting out of the car and he drove off with the thought that he had made a mistake.

He really didn’t plan to call you, thinking he had killed whatever spark and connection you two had, but his thoughts returned to you again and again. He was hearing your laugh everywhere and your face was behind his eyelids every time he went to sleep.

One night after a few beers he imagined you in his bed and his hand flew to his already stiffening cock. He shut his eyes and saw you next to him, naked and ready for him. Pleasuring himself, Joel imagined your hand wrapped around his length, sliding up and down, then your mouth sucking on his tip and soon he was spurting his load all over his stomach and fist. He could have you, you already agreed to it, and he deserved to feel good, to treat himself once in a while. With those thoughts on his mind he texted you and booked a session.

Joel tried to be on time for your first meeting, but everything seemed to go wrong that day and when he arrived at a hotel, you were already waiting for him at the bar. He showered you with apologies for being late but you assured him that it was ok. He felt the flames of desire, when he took you all in. Your black dress was hugging your body perfectly and he couldn’t wait to take it off you.

You had already got a room for them so Joel followed you to the elevator. He had never been that nervous in his life. You must have noticed it, so you took his hand and gave him a warm smile.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this, Joel.”

“Never done this before,” he admitted when the elevator doors opened and you walked to the room.

“It’s ok, Joel. I’m sure we’re going to have a great time,” you said, smiling to him, and opened the door.

When Joel stepped inside, he saw a typical hotel room with one big bed. You turned to him and asked,

“Before we start, do you have any questions or suggestions about what you want us to do?”

Joel swallowed loudly.

“I want —, he scratched the back of his neck and continued, “just the usual, I guess.”

“The usual?” you repeated with a little smirk.

“Yeah, just sex.”

You pouted your lips in thought, then smiled with mischief in your gaze and slowly came up to him.

His breath hitched when your behavior changed in front of his eyes, like a little kitten turned into a panther in a matter of seconds. You looked the same but there was an allure in your every move, each glance was magnetic, as if you were calling for him to touch you, fuck you. You were irresistible. Your body was inches away from him, your perfume subtle but enticing, enveloping him, and you purred,

“I don’t think we want it to be ‘just’ sex, Joel. How about we make it special.”

Your tongue caressed your lower lip and he slowly leaned down. You swiftly swerved him and instead of tasting your lips, he nuzzled your cheek.

“I’m sorry, Joel— I don’t kiss on the lips during sessions.”

“Oh fuck, sorry.” Joel felt really bad and explained, “I got carried away... I’ve read the rules you sent me… I remember no kissing part, like in “Pretty Woman”,” Joel chuckled, rubbing his scruffy cheek in a nervous gesture.

You giggled, too, probably trying to make him feel more comfortable, “Yes, just like in “Pretty Woman.”

Without noticing it, he tried to memorize the sound of your laugh, how pretty it was. You slightly pulled away from him and tilted your head.

“How about I take the lead at first and then we’ll see how it goes?”

Joel nodded. He wanted to take your dress off, carry you to the bed and fuck you till you screamed his name. But he was afraid to do something wrong, he’d never been in that type of situation. You took his hand and gently caressed it, your fingers dancing over his hardened skin. Then he watched you bring it to your red lips and kiss his palm. You glanced up at him with your big beautiful eyes, not taking his hand away and his whole body reacted to your gentle touch. He was getting hard.

You led Joel to the bed, your fingers intertwined with his, and gently pushed on his shoulders to make him sit down. You slowly took your dress off and he tried not to start drooling like a cartoon wolf, seeing you in front of him in a black lacy set.

You stood between his spread thighs and bent over to tug at the hem of his dark tee. He helped you to take it off and when you kneeled in front of him, he almost moaned. Your beautiful face was so close, he wanted to kiss you so much but he couldn’t and he’d never do anything you didn’t want.

You unbuckled his belt and softly asked him to take his jeans off.

Soon Joel was sitting there in his boxer briefs with you on your knees between his spread thighs.

"You're so hot, Joel," you whispered, as your dark gaze slid over the expense of his broad shoulders and chest, and your nails slightly scratched his muscular thighs.

He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head. He wanted to tell you how gorgeous you look, wearing your lingerie and your high heel shoes, how much he'd been thinking about you since the day you'd met but his mouth was dry and he felt himself like a teenage boy who was trying to compliment a hot girl.

You weren't aware of his inner torment. As always calm and confident, you leaned closer to his torso and kissed a spot on his chest, right over his heart. Joel took a sharp breath and shut his eyes for a second, trying to calm down. He couldn't believe what just a gentle chest kiss from you was doing to him, but he was already painfully hard.

Your lips glided lower and you started leaving open mouth kisses, tracing a path down to the bulge in his boxers, and he opened his thighs wider to give you more space. When your face was close to his clothed cock, you rested your head on his left thigh and looked up at him.

“Fuck,” Joel cursed and growled at the sight of you so close to his already throbbing manhood. You were so pretty, so obedient but even on your knees he felt that you controlled the situation.

“Joel?”

“Yes, baby?”

You smiled hearing the pet name and asked,

“Can I take you in my mouth?”

His cock visibly twitched when he heard your soft voice and the words you uttered.

“If you want.”

You bit your lower lip and asked, rubbing your cheek on his hairy thigh.

“I do but would you like me to?”

Joel nodded eagerly, maybe too eagerly but he didn’t care. He wanted you so much.

With a content smile, you sat up straight and shifted on your knees, getting comfortable. Then you pulled at the waistband of his boxers and in a second they were on the floor and his cock was bobbing in front of your face. Your breath visibly hitched and you glanced up at him.

“You have a gorgeous cock, Joel Miller,” you whispered and he wanted to kiss you again, hearing the praise. But instead he brought his hand to your face and cupped your cheek. You purred into his touch but parted from his palm in a second when you lowered your face and kitten-licked the fat tip of his cock. Joel sighed and bucked his hips already impatient for more. You didn’t make him wait long.

Your lips soon welcomed his cock between them as you started taking him deeper, covering his length with your warm saliva as your hand was firmly wrapped around his girthy base.

Joel moaned loudly at the sensation, he didn’t care what sounds he was making, completely lost in the pleasure your soft lips and skilful tongue were giving him.

Your mouth was slowly caressing his cock as your curved up lips were sliding over his sensitive skin and your tongue danced around the fat head, now and then stroking the leaking slit. There was so much precum, he saw you swallow it again and again. Your hand was gently massaging his balls and his big palm was lying on your head, not pushing, just showing you how much he needed you at that moment. Joel was in heaven.

Soon you took all of him and your throat contracting around his length was the last straw. He was dangerously close to coming and painting your mouth creamy white. But he had other plans for you.

“Shit, baby,” he cupped your cheek and gently pulled you off his ready-to-explode cock, “you’re too fucking good at it. I won’t last. And I wanna..”

He lost his words as you were looking at him with sparkling eyes, full of understanding and warmth.

“Of course, Joel.” You slowly got up on your feet and took off your high heels. Then you padded to the nightstand and opened the drawer. Joel saw a few toys lying there and his heart started to beat faster when he imagined using them on you. Maybe he could suggest it, he mused inwardly, but when you started sliding your panties and bra off your body, he lost his train of thought.

Now completely naked you came up to him and placed your hands on his broad shoulders. Then you planted your knees on each side of him and got on his lap.

“You’re beautiful,” Joel said in a low voice as his hands found your hips and he rubbed your skin with his calloused thumbs.

You thanked him, smiling, and opened the package with your teeth. You brought the condom to his hard cock, slid it on and then got up on your knees, your pussy hovering over Joel’s tip.

You searched for his eyes and as soon as your eyes locked, you started sinking on his thick length.

Joel watched pleasure twisting your face while his cock was slowly parting your insides. He moaned at the sensation of your wet warm pussy welcoming him, grasped your hips tightly and when you took all of him, your ass was flush with his balls, you both loudly sighed.

“You feel so good, baby. So warm and tight.”

“Thank you, Joel. Your cock is so fucking big.”

He took a sharp breath, hearing you curse, and at the back of his mind he wondered if you said it to every client but he drove the thought away. He needed you too much.

Your breasts were right in front of his face and he asked, looking up at you, as if you were a goddess he was praying to.

“Is it ok if I kiss your body?”

“Yes, Joel, please. You can do anything to me.”

“Just not kiss your beautiful lips?”

“Joel,” you whined and he felt you clench around his hard cock.

He scolded himself for those words as soon as they left his stupid mouth. It was the thing you kept for yourself, he understood and accepted it but his desire drove him insatiable.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know it’s a rule. I understand it. It’s jus’ my brain doesn’t work properly, all the blood is down there.”

“Oh, right,” you softly giggled, “Let me shut you up then.”

You lifted your hips, making his cock almost leave the heaven of your cunt, but when the tip was close to slipping out, you sank back down on his manhood inch by inch, gliding your hands over his broad chest.

Joel’s mouth got slack and you both moaned at the ecstatic sensation of him, filling you up again.

With a groan Joel swiftly put his mouth on your breast and you whimpered when he swirled his tongue around your perky nipple. While he was gently sucking and licking your tits, you were languidly riding him, as soft whimpers were leaving your half parted mouth. At one point you nuzzled his forehead and your hot breath on his lips let him imagine you kiss him. His fingers dug into your hips but just for a second. Afraid to hurt you he glided them over your back and arms. He raised his lips to your neck and kissed your skin there.

Joel knew that he was getting close. His hand slithered to your pussy and he slipped his thumb between your folds. He found your clit hardened and throbbing for attention. He began stroking it slowly and you reacted immediately with the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Joel,” you breathed out and he clenched his jaw, trying not to explode right then and there.

“Want you to come on my cock, baby.”

You stopped bouncing on his member and he saw you furrow your brows in concentration.

He made his thumb dance faster over your bud and soon your pussy was pulsating around his cock. Your contracting walls sent him over the edge and he started coming, filling up the condom inside you. Oh, how he wished to paint your walls with his creamy load but rules are rules.

As you both started descending from your highs, panting heavily, Joel held you in his big arms and you rested on his broad chest. You were breathing into the crease between his neck and shoulder and at one point he thought you’d fallen asleep.

But the next second you sat up straight on his lap with a satisfied smile. You gently kissed his scruffy cheek and he tried not to purr like a happy cat.

You cuddled a little bit more but soon his time was over.

“Can I see you again?” He asked when you got out of the bed.

“I’d love to, Joel,” you replied, putting on your underwear, “Text me when you have a day in mind.”

You looked like you wanted to say something but stopped yourself. You put on your clothes, kissed his cheek again and left.

After the first time with you Joel knew immediately it wasn’t the last. The need to have you, to be with you again squeezed his heart as soon as that hotel door closed behind you. But he wasn’t rich. He couldn’t spend all his money on you. So he started saving up here and there, anything he could, without damaging the level of life of his daughter.

He texted you as soon as he had enough to pay you and you told him that your regulars got a discount which was a nice surprise for him.

Joel invited you to his place. Sarah was at a sleepover and he had the house for himself for a night. He needed just a couple of hours, no way he could afford a whole night with you.

When you arrived at his place, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a tank top, his mouth immediately started watering. He tried to be a gentleman and a good host and gave you a tour of the house, but when you stepped into his bedroom, all his decency came crashing down. Soon your jeans were discarded on the floor while his head was between your trembling thighs. Joel was licking up your juices straight from the source, grunting into your wet cunt and fucking his tongue into your clenching hole. He was fully clothed, grinding his hard cock against the bed and staining his gray sweatpants.

You were singing for him so beautifully when he began plunging his thick fingers in and out of your heat while his mouth was gently sucking on your throbbing clit. Your back was arched and your hands were clutching his dark curls. He curled his fingers, pushing on that soft spot inside your creaming pussy once, twice and you came, crying out his name, while your walls were fluttering around his digits.

When he parted from your puffy glistening cunt, he saw tears in your hazy eyes. Joel was happy he still got it but what filled his chest with pride was that he made you cry and writhe with ecstasy.

"I'm here, baby. You did so good for me," Joel praised you, climbing up the bed and taking you in his arms. You were trying to catch your breath and he gave you a respite, manhandling you so your head would be resting on his broad shoulder.

"Thank you, Joel, you didn't have to," you mumbled.

"Have to? Sweetheart, it was my pleasure."

He heard your giggle, followed by a content sigh. His hard cock was tenting his gray sweatpants but he didn't care. He was happy to hold you, breathe in the fruity scent of your hair, and when a few minutes later he saw you peacefully sleeping in his embrace, his heart almost burst with affection. He closed his eyes for a second and drifted off too.

Joel woke up in the middle of the night when he felt you move in your sleep. He must have woken you up as you started to shuffle next to him and then sat up straight.

“Fuck! I fell asleep?” You asked, eyes widened, covering your naked thighs with a bedspread.

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel. It’s never happened before. Oh my god, it’s so unprofessional.”

He hastily sat up next to you, taking your hands in his.

“Hey, no. It’s ok. I loved sleeping with you— next to you.”

He smiled, leaning closer to you and rubbing your hands with his thumbs, trying to reassure you and it seemed to work because you gave him an apologetic smile but he felt you relax a little.

“I won’t take any money from you today.”

“No, you spent so much time with me. I owe you even more.”

“Joel, you ate me out, made me come, and then I fell asleep. I definitely don’t deserve to get paid,” you giggled. “The way I see it I owe you now.”

“I’ll think about the career change,” Joel chuckled and at the same time he felt his cock get harder when you talked about the oral. The arousal he had felt before falling asleep came back with a renewed force and swept him away.

He wasn’t smiling anymore, his gaze slid up and down your body and the air in the room got heavier.

“What did you like the most?” he asked as his eyes darkened.

Your breath hitched and even in the dim light of the room he saw your pupils dilate. You dropped your gaze for a second and when you raised your eyes, they were filled with need and desire.

“I loved how much you enjoyed it. How good you were. It felt amazing when your mouth was on my clit. When you were sucking it,” you bit your lip almost shyly and your words went straight to his cock.

You whispered, “Should I go or…?”

“I wanna fuck you,” Joel interrupted you, palming his stiffening bulge, and you quickly nodded before throwing away the bedspread and taking off your top. Your tits bounced as you straddled him and he wrapped his big arms around your naked body.

Joel let you take off his shirt and when your lips latched onto his neck he held you closer and flipped you on the bed, covering you with his body.

You gasped at the fast shift but then moaned when Joel pulled his cock out of his sweatpants.

It was already hard as a rock and wet with precum under his fingers. He gave it a few pumps to spread it over his heated skin.

“Shit, condoms.”

He hastily reached to grab a pack from the nightstand. He opened one, while your fingers were caressing him, dancing over his torso and arms. As soon as the protection was on, you pulled him closer and he pushed his length into you without any warning. He had already stretched you with his tongue and fingers so his tip easily slipped into your crying hole.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” Joel breathed out and started rolling his hips. His lips were caressing every spot he could reach and you were kissing his shoulders and neck.

Without pausing he braced his hands on the bed, hovering over you, his dark gaze locked with yours. He wanted to memorize every lip bite, every twitch of your brows when his cock was sliding in and out your needy cunt. You were so wet for him, he felt your juices on his balls and inner thighs and he closed his eyes trying not to come too soon.

“Look at me, Joel,” you purred and he immediately did what you asked. Your gaze slid from his dark eyes to his lips and it took everything from him not to kiss you right now.

He leaned down and instead gently kissed your heated cheek, leaving a wet spot on your soft skin. With a whimper you wrapped your legs around his waist and started grinding your hips, chasing your orgasm by rubbing your little clit against his pubic bone.

“Do ya wanna come, sweetheart?

“Only if you want me to, Joel,” you breathed out and he furrowed his brows, reminded of the nature of your relationship.

“ ‘course I do.”

With that he pulled away from you and sat up on his knees between your sweaty thighs. “Let me…,” he pulled out and you whined.

“Oh, baby, so impatient.”

You bit your lip with a sly smile but Joel quickly wiped it off your face when he took the condom off and asked,

“Can I slap your pretty pussy with my cock, sweetheart?” He gripped his cock at the base, squeezing it a little to postpone his climax and when you whispered a sultry ‘yes’ he slapped your clit with the tip of his throbbing length.

“Oh my god, Joel!” you cried out with a jerk, looking up at him with your brows pulled together and eyes rolling back.

“You like it?” He asked and when you nodded he started slapping your pulsating bud with his cock again and again until he saw some slick, seeping out of your clenching hole. He rubbed his red tip against it, coating his manhood with your juices, and began grinding it between your folds. His tip was bumping into your clit rhythmically and your taut muscles told him that you were close to your climax.

“Come for me, baby, please,” he asked softly and slapped your clit one more time. A jolt of pleasure made you shut your eyes and a loud moan escaped your lips. Wanting to prolong your orgasm and chasing his, Joel pressed his tip to your clit with his hand and started thrusting his cock, rubbing your twitching clit and at the same time massaging his whole length against your soft pussy and his own palm.

The overwhelming sensation, your sweet sounds and the sight of you coming in his bed made him explode and he began spurting creamy ropes of cum on your belly and sternum. He growled when a few drops landed on your bouncing breasts.

When you both stilled and the ecstasy started dissipating he sat down on his heels and watched you for a few seconds.

Joel wanted to remember that image- you, beautiful and satisfied, eyes shut, chest and belly heaving, was splayed on his bed, body glistening with sweat and cum. The happiness soon mixed with regret and the feeling of longing for more, wishing you were really truly his tightened his chest. But the reality was cruel. You didn’t need a single father in your life, you were free and your whole life was ahead of you.

Your curious gaze interrupted his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about, Joel?” You asked with a warm smile.

“I'm thinking my bed has never looked better than now.”

Your smile turned into a grin and you started to sit up but Joel stopped you with a raised hand.

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart.”

He went to the bathroom to get a wet towel and then gently wiped away his cum off your skin.

Before you left, he hugged you, breathing in the scent of your hair one more time and you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

You kept seeing each other for another month. Joel preferred his place to hotels and whenever he had the house for himself and got enough spare money, he would text you. In his own home it was easier to imagine you as his girlfriend, or even wife. He knew that it wasn’t healthy and he was getting a little delusional but it made him happy to think that you were his. If only in his dreams.

Sometimes Joel would literally dream about you. He’d wake up hard, yearning for your touch, your lips on his body, your gentle fingers running through his hair. It was easy to imagine you there with him. His hand would pump his needy cock and the image of you behind his eyelids was enough to make him come, groaning into his pillow.

As time passed Joel got more confident in expressing his desires. The possibilities were endless and you always looked excited whenever he suggested trying something new.

Like the time your eyes glinted with mischief when he asked if he could edge you the next time. Just the idea of making you beg for a climax made him rock hard. So during your next session he had you tied to his bed, as you were whimpering and pleading for a release, a vibrator in his hand pressed to your puffy clit. Though he caved in quite fast and finished you off with his thick fingers massaging your core, his teasing made you squirt and Joel lapped it all up with the wildest eyes and an aching cock. You returned the favor by drinking him till the last drop after he shoved his cock down your throat keeping you in place with his hands clutching your hair.

He loved experimenting with you, loved being rougher. But more often he craved making love to you, wanted you softly purring under his big body, as his cock was buried deep inside your heat, your pussy fluttering around him. He still couldn’t kiss you but your neck, your breasts, your cheeks were enough for him. Yet he couldn’t deny it— he was down bad for you.

“What is it, baby?” Joel asked you, pulling away from your neck that he was peppering with open mouth kisses a moment ago.

You were sitting on his lap, wearing a pretty summer dress and his only thought was to tear it off you but when his hands started roaming your body, you jerked and sniffed.

“Nothing. Everything’s ok, Joel,” you replied softly and nuzzled his neck. He knew something was wrong and you were hiding your pretty face. During the time he had known you, he learnt to read your body language and even feel your mood. So Joel stopped his ministrations immediately and kissed the top of your head.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. If you want.”

For a few minutes, he was holding you in his arms, rubbing your forearm with his thumb. Finally you took a deep breath, not raising your head off his shoulder, and opened up.

“I had a session with a new client yesterday. It was horrible.”

As soon as he heard your soft voice, saying that, his insides burned.

“Who? What did he do to you?”

He took your chin between his fingers and tilted your head up to face him.

When he saw tears in your eyes, he immediately wanted to rip that asshole apart. But your expression told him that you needed him to be gentle, to be there with you and he wanted to give you that.

“He was really degrading. Clients want it sometimes but it hadn’t been discussed and the things he said— made me feel like a cheap hooker. He didn’t hurt me though,” you added hastily but Joel saw that he had. Not physically but that fucker had made you really upset.

“I should talk some sense into the asshole. Can you give me his name?”

“No, no,” you were shaking your head, “I can’t. It’s all confidential. I’ll get over it and won’t see him again of course.”

You took a deep breath before mumbling,

“I’m sorry for ruining the mood.”

Then you reached for his belt buckle but Joel’s hand stopped you and he placed your hands between his big palms.

“No, you’re not in the mood. It’s ok. Can we just cuddle?

“But— I will be in a second. I’m professional, Joel.” You shot him almost a fiery glance and pouted your lips.

“Hey, baby, your client here—,” Joel pointed a thumb at himself with raised eyebrows and a sly smile, “wants to role play a big spoon tonight. Can we do that?”

“You’re so kinky”, you said with a giggle and lay down on the bed. In a second he was holding you, his chest pressed to your back, his strong arms embracing you, giving you comfort.

He was semi hard and surely you noticed it. He felt the warmth of your skin through the thin material of your dress and it drove him insane but the way you flinched at his touch, your tears, your shaky voice told him you wanted him to just hold you. For the second time you fell asleep in his arms and he woke you up with a kiss on your soft cheek the next morning.

Another month passed. As weird as it might have sounded, you became a huge part of his life. He knew every crevice, every curve of your body, knew every hope and dream. He kissed every spot on you, except for your beautiful lips. He tasted them a million times in his imagination but with time it stopped being enough. So he decided to invite you to celebrate his birthday with his family and the closest friends and finally ask you out on a real date.

Joel was nervous when you stepped into his house that day. Tommy raised his eyebrows, surprised to see you there, but fortunately didn’t ask or say anything. You seemed anxious as well at first, but after introducing you to everyone, Joel was happy to notice you chatting with the other guests, giggling with Sarah about something and when his daughter pulled you upstairs to show you her drawings, warmth spread in his chest. He was glad and relieved that you two got along. He wasn’t looking for a mother for his child, he would never ask you to take such a responsibility, but it was important to him that you two could be friends.

Just before dessert you asked him if you could talk privately. Tommy gave Joel a wink, lips twisted in a smirk, when you two headed upstairs, and the older brother just rolled his eyes.

When you stepped into Joel’s bedroom, his cock twitched in his jeans. It was a Pavlovian reflex at this point. He was used to seeing you there naked, your gorgeous body wriggling in his bed, whimpers and moans escaping your mouth.

But Joel told himself to calm down when you came up to him with a serious expression on your pretty face.

“Joel…,” you started and dropped your eyes, fumbling with your fingers.

“Yes, baby?” His heart started pounding in his chest. Always calm and self assured you seemed really nervous and the change scared him. What if you decided to break off whatever weird relationship you two had, what if…

You interrupted his thoughts when you raised your face to him and a little shy smile tugged at your lips.

“I want to give you your birthday present.”

He opened his mouth to say that you hadn’t have to do it, seeing you there was enough but he paused when you inched closer, your big sparkling eyes staring right into his soul. Then your gaze slid down to his lips and Joel seemed to stop breathing. He felt your palms on his forearms and then you slightly pressed your lips to his. They were barely there at first, hesitant, waiting for him to react.

He had been imagining that moment, dreaming of it for so long, so his hands immediately flew to your waist and he pressed his body closer to yours, welcoming your kiss with his whole being.

Joel’s lips started moving against yours, gently and slowly as if he was afraid to scare you away, to ruin the moment. But when he heard you sigh happily against him and your body relaxed into his, Joel wrapped his arms tightly around your torso. He wished that moment to last forever, wanted to never have to let you go.

His tongue brushed your lower lip, asking for permission to breach the last divide between you two, and you graced him by opening your mouth and letting him taste you fully. His tongue was caressing yours while his hands were gliding over your back. Then Joel gently cupped your cheek and tilted his head to give you the best kiss he could. You were so sweet and soft, so warm and lovely on his tongue and he didn’t care that you could probably feel his cock swell against your belly. Your ability to make him hard in seconds was not a secret to the both of you and he bucked his hips against your body with a soft groan.

Joel felt your smile on his lips and playfully squeezed your ass cheeks.

You giggled, your mouth parting from his.

“Happy birthday, Joel,” you whispered, putting your head on his shoulder and nuzzling his neck.

“Thank you for the best birthday present, baby.”

Joel kissed your forehead and you fluttered your eyes shut with a happy smile.

“Sweetheart?” he called.

“Yes.”

“Will you have dinner with me?”

You lifted your head and your eyes locked.

“Like— on a date?”

“Yes.”

Your lips twisted into the widest grin he’d seen on you and you nodded.

“Really?” he asked, making sure that he was really that lucky, “Fuck, I know I’m not a catch. My life is chaotic and I’m a single dad and…”

“Shh,” you placed your finger on his lips and said softly, “I’d love to date you, Joel Miller.”

Joel beamed at you and embraced you in a tight hug.

“I quit escort,” you murmured against his chest and Joel furrowed his brows.

“Is it because of me? Sweetheart, I’d never ask you to quit your job. If you like it I won’t …”

“I don’t. I don’t like it anymore. After that guy I realized I wanna do something else.”

“Ok. Whatever you decide, baby,” he said and then added with a little smile, “I can still pay you though.”

You laughed at him and playfully punched his shoulder. “Shut up, Joel.”

He took your face between his big palms, marveling at your beautiful face, and whispered, “You know how to shut me up, baby.”

You smiled and pressed your lips to his.

Joel opened his eyes to see the early morning sun peeking through the blinds and your face twisted in pleasure just before his. He soon realized that your wet warm pussy was wrapped around his hard cock and you were slowly grinding against him, lying on your side, face to face, your leg thrown over his waist.

He moaned at the sudden pleasure and you noticed that he was up.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, honey. I just— I wanted you so much I couldn’t stop myself.”

You were breathing heavily and he wrapped his arms around your naked body and began rolling his hips, helping you to reach your high and chasing his.

“Never apologize for this, baby. I woke up in heaven thanks to you.”

You smiled and kissed him while his hand slithered between your slightly sweaty bodies and he slid his thumb between your folds to stroke your hardened clit. He was swallowing your moans and tried to get his own ecstatic growling under control, not wishing to wake up Sarah.

Soon you both exploded in each other’s arms and Joel flooded your pussy with his warm cum while you were writhing and trembling with euphoria against him.

When your climax subsided, you rested your head on his shoulder. He was drawing patterns on your back until you lifted your head to give him one more kiss.

“Sarah wanted pancakes for breakfast. I’m gonna go make some batter,” you said, getting out of bed and putting on your robe.

“I’ll help you. Be up in a minute.”

You smiled at him and bent over to give him a peck on the cheek but he swiftly pulled you back into his embrace, searching for your lips. You giggled and soon melted into his arms, while he was kissing you, passion and love in every stroke of his lips and tongue.

You were his, fully and completely, and all the fears evaporated when he realized that you were the final puzzle piece, missing from his life. He would do anything to make you happy.

“I love you,” Joel whispered against your lips.

“I love you too,” you murmured back.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic, it motivates me to write more stories for you, lovelies!❤️

Masterlist

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If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

[mrsfancyferrari]

Fragments of Hope

Summary: You had an argument with Daniel and you decided to leave him for a while. What you didn't know is that he can't live without you.

Song: MILLION DOLLAR BABY - Tommy Richman

Author’s note: I can't write short stories to save my life. I hope you enjoy this long journey which may take a full day to read. Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 4.6k

"Daniel, I feel like you're prioritizing your racing career over our relationship. It seems like you don't care about me anymore." You said, stressing over the fact that Daniel didn't understand.

"I understand why you might feel that way, but racing is my passion and it's important to me. I want you to know that you're also a priority in my life." Daniel replied.

"Well it certainly does feel like it sometimes," You muttered, standing up from your seat.

"Y/N please listen to me," Daniel pleaded, standing up to follow you.

"No you listen to me!" you yelled, turning around to face him. "Everyday you stay in the paddock until 1AM or later when you come home and then you leave at 8AM to go back to work. Daniel, I have less than 7 hours to spend time with you and it's mostly used on you sleeping,"

"I understand that it may feel that way, but racing is not just a career for me. It's my passion," Daniel pleaded, his voice filled with sincerity. "I love you more than words can express, and I want to make it work between us."

"How Daniel, tell me how you are going to fix this because right now, I don't feel like I'm in a relationship with you but a friend who helps you."

Daniel stood there, his eyes filled with regret and realization. He had never seen you so upset before, and your words struck a chord deep within him. He knew that he had to make a change, to find a way to balance his racing career with your needs and desires.

"That's what I thought," You muttered, taking your phone before heading for the door, "Don't follow me,"

Feeling frustrated and hurt, you stormed out of the house and went to your best friend's house for the night.

As you're on your way to your friend's place, your phone dies, leaving you disconnected from Daniel. However, when you finally arrive at your friend's house, you decide to check your phone for any missed messages.

Opening your photos or messages, you notice several messages and calls from Daniel. One that read, "I'm sorry for what happened. Are you at your friend's house?"

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of anger and sadness.

Despite your hurt feelings, you decide to text him back, "Yes, I'm at my friend's house. I need some time to think and process everything. Please respect my space for now."

It's late at night when you find yourself sitting with your friend, doing your skin care routine together. You decide to share your situation with her, expecting some reassurance.

As you pour your heart out to your friend, she listens attentively, her eyes filled with empathy. "I can understand why you're feeling hurt and frustrated," she says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"It's important to prioritize your own needs and emotions in a relationship. You deserve someone who can dedicate time and effort to nurturing your connection."

"But I have got to remind you how in love Daniel looks when he's with you," your friend said, her voice filled with sincerity.

"I've seen the way his eyes light up when he talks about you, and the way he always puts your happiness first. Maybe this situation is a wake-up call for him to prioritize your relationship and find a better balance. Give him a chance to make things right, but also remember to listen to your own needs and make decisions that are best for you."

You nod, appreciating your friend's perspective and words of encouragement. "You're right," you reply, "I do see how much Daniel cares about me. I'll take some time to reflect on what I need and have an open conversation with him."

The next day, you and Daniel barely exchange any words. It feels like there's a tension between the two of you, but you try to ignore it.

As the race day approaches, you find yourself watching Daniel's race. Unfortunately, he doesn't perform well, finishing in 19th place. The disappointment weighs heavily on both of you and knew that Daniel would be very disappointed in himself, but you decide to give it some time.

You were always the one to comfort him after a bad race, reminding him that everyone has off days and that his performance does not define his worth as an athlete. You would assure him that you still believed in him and that you're proud of the effort he put in.

Feeling conflicted, you decide to reach out to Daniel after his disappointing race. Despite being in your friend's house, you understand that he is most likely in the paddock as usual.

You send him a text expressing your support and reminding him that you believe in his abilities, hoping that it will provide some comfort during this challenging time. . . .

Days turn into weeks, and the tension between you and Daniel remains. One night, you receive a strange picture from Lando, a close friend of Daniel's and you.

In the photo, you see Daniel, his usually composed and determined demeanor replaced with disheveled hair and glassy eyes. His grip on the lamppost is tight, as if it's the only thing keeping him upright.

The streetlights cast an eerie glow on his face, highlighting the exhaustion and despair etched in his features. It's a stark contrast to the vibrant and confident person you've known him to be.

As you study the image, a wave of concern washes over you. You can't help but wonder what has led Daniel to this point.

Is it the mounting pressure of his racing career? The strain on your relationship? Or something deeper that you're unaware of?

Unable to bear the weight of uncertainty any longer, you decide to video call Lando, hoping to gain some insight into what has been happening with Daniel lately.

"Lando, what's going on?" you asked worriedly, your voice filled with concern as you hoped to gain some insight into what has been happening with Daniel lately.

"Oh yeah hey Y/N, your boyfriend is really drunk and he is hugging a lamppost with all of his strength," Lando explained, showing his face and waving at the camera.

"I've been trying to get him to come back to the house, but he's been pretty stubborn. I think he's been struggling with the disappointment from the race and it's just gotten to him."

"Let me see him,"

As Lando shifted the camera towards Daniel, you could see the toll that his recent struggles had taken on him. His usually vibrant eyes were bloodshot and glazed over, filled with a mixture of exhaustion and anguish.

His disheveled hair clung to his sweaty forehead, and his once confident posture had slouched, as if weighted down by the burden he carried.

It was clear that he was in a state of deep distress, and your heart ached at the sight of him clinging to the lamppost, seeking solace in his own thoughts.

"Daniel baby," you said in a gentle tone that you would only use for him. Daniel perked up, looking around for you, his eyes scanning the surroundings until they finally met yours on the video call.

There was a glimmer of recognition and relief in his eyes as he realized you were there, offering him a lifeline of support and understanding amidst his turmoil.

With a shaky voice, Daniel whispered, "Y/N, is that you?" His words carried a mix of vulnerability and hope, as if he was desperate for your presence to validate his struggles and offer him the comfort he desperately needed.

Your heart racing, you didn't waste a second. Without another thought, you hung up the video call and rushed out the door, fueled by a determination to be by Daniel's side.

As you sprinted towards where Lando had described, the worry and fear in your chest propelled you forward, your mind filled with a single thought - you needed to reach Daniel, to hold him, and to let him know that he wasn't alone in his pain.

"Lando, make sure that he stays there and share your location," you instructed, knowing that finding Daniel quickly was of utmost importance.

The urgency in your voice reflected the depth of your concern as you relied on Lando to keep an eye on him until you arrived.

"It's not like he's letting go of this lamppost any time soon," Lando joked

You couldn't help but chuckle at Lando's attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, I'll make sure to give him a little nudge if he's still holding on when I get there," you replied, grateful for the small moment of levity amidst the seriousness of the situation.

Lando chuckled and said, "Just make sure it's a gentle nudge. We don't want him falling over before you get there. I'll keep an eye on him for you, Y/N. He's in good hands."

"Also just make sure you bring some extra strength with you. I have a feeling Daniel might need it," he said, his voice laced with concern.

"I'll be there as soon as I can, Lando," you assured him, your voice filled with determination. "Thank you for watching over him. I know he's in good hands with you."

When you finally locate Daniel, you approach him cautiously. He looks disheveled and confused, unaware of the picture you received from Lando.

As soon as you got off the car and walked over to the two of them, Daniel's eyes were on you. His gaze held a mixture of relief, anticipation, and a glimmer of hope, as if he had been waiting for you to arrive and bring him the solace he desperately needed.

"Thank goodness you're here Y/N," Lando said smiling at you before giving you a hug.

"How is he?" You whispered to Lando, glancing at Daniel whose eyes were still trained on you.

"He's in bad shape," Lando whispered, his worry evident in his voice. "He's refusing to drink water, he's been vomiting, and he has a high fever. But no matter what, he won't let go of that lamppost."

Your heart sank as you took in the state Daniel was in. The sight of him clinging to the lamppost, refusing to let go despite his deteriorating health, only heightened your concern.

"I'll go try and talk to him."

"Good luck but you probably won't need it," Lando replied.

As you approached Daniel, you couldn't help but notice the hollowed look in his eyes, as if the light within him had faded. His once vibrant and charismatic demeanor was replaced by a sense of weariness and defeat.

His disheveled hair and trembling hands were clear signs of the toll this ordeal had taken on him, and it was heartbreaking to see him in such a vulnerable state.

The sight of him clinging desperately to the lamppost, his knuckles white with tension, revealed a level of desperation that struck a chord within you.

Nevertheless, you mustered up all the courage you had and gently reached out to touch his shoulder, hoping to break through the walls he had built around himself.

"Daniel, it's me Y/N, your girlfriend," you said slowly, your voice filled with love and concern.

His eyes flickered for a moment, as if trying to grasp onto a distant memory, before a glimmer of recognition appeared. "Y/N," he whispered hoarsely, his grip on the lamppost loosening slightly.

"I'm here, Daniel," you replied softly, your heart breaking at the sight of his vulnerability. "I won't leave you alone. We'll get through this together."

You placed your palm against Daniel's forehead, feeling the heat radiating from his feverish skin. Concern washed over you as you realized just how sick he was. "We need to get you to a doctor, Daniel," you said, your voice tinged with urgency.

"No doctor," he slurred, his words barely audible. "I don't want their help. Just stay with me, Y/N."

As Daniel's words trailed off, tears welled up in his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks. Each tear carried the weight of his pain and the fear of losing himself and you.

You held him tightly, offering a comforting embrace as his tears soaked into your shoulder, a silent testament to the depth of his despair.

"Daniel," you said gently, wiping away his tears with your thumb, "I understand that you're scared and don't want anyone's help. But I can't stand to see you suffer like this. The doctors can help you get better. They have the knowledge and resources to treat you. Please, let me take you to the hospital. I'll be right by your side the whole time, I promise."

Daniel looked at you with a mix of desperation and gratitude, his trembling hand reaching out to hold yours tightly. "Okay," he whispered, his voice filled with surrender, "take me to the hospital."

You nodded, grateful for Lando's support. Slowly and carefully, with Lando's help, you guided Daniel to Lando's car. As you settled into the back seats, Daniel's trembling hand still tightly holding yours, Lando started the engine and drove off towards the hospital, the weight of the situation heavy in the air.

Daniel leaned against you, his body weak and trembling. Each breath he took seemed to require immense effort, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps.

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on your heart as you held him close, praying for his strength to endure just a little longer until you reached the hospital.

"I'm so sorry Y/N," he whispered while taking in sharp breaths, his voice strained with pain.

"What do you mean baby?" you whispered, observing every movement Daniel made.

"I'm sorry.... for.... for not being.... good enough," Daniel stuttered, tears streaming down his face.

Your heart shattered at his words, and you squeezed his hand tighter, your voice filled with love and conviction. "Daniel, please don't say that. You are more than enough, and I love you just the way you are. We'll get through this together, I promise."

"I... love you," Daniel muttered. "Please don't leave... me."

"I love you too, Daniel," you replied, tears welling in your eyes. "I will never leave your side. We're in this together, and we will fight through it. You are not alone."

The rest of the journey was mostly silent, as you focused on keeping Daniel awake and alert, gently talking to him and urging him to stay awake. However, Daniel's exhaustion and pain were overwhelming, and he longed for the comfort of sleep.

Despite his struggle, he fought to stay awake, knowing that reaching the hospital was crucial for his survival.

As you pulled up to the hospital, Lando's prearranged call had ensured that a medical team was waiting at the entrance with a stretcher for Daniel. They quickly and efficiently transferred him onto the stretcher, their urgency matching the gravity of the situation.

You watched with a mix of relief and anxiety as they whisked Daniel away, knowing that he was now in the hands of the medical professionals who could provide him with the immediate care he needed.

You and Lando waited in the waiting room, your legs bouncing against the floor in a nervous rhythm. The minutes felt like hours as you anxiously scanned the hallway for any sign of the medical team returning with updates on Daniel's condition. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the air, and all you could do was hope and pray for positive news.

"I couldn't help but listen in your conversation in the car," Lando started. "Did something happen before today?"

You took a deep breath, your voice trembling slightly as you replied, "Yes, Daniel and I have been going through a difficult time lately."

"Excuse me, were you the ones who brought Mr. Ricciardo?" the doctor asked, looking at you and Lando. Your heart raced as you nodded, eager for any updates on Daniel's condition.

"Yes, we brought him," you replied anxiously. "How is he? Is he going to be okay?" The doctor's face softened as they looked at you both with empathy. "We're doing everything we can for Mr. Ricciardo. He's stable for now, but we need to run some tests and monitor him closely. It's too early to say anything definitive, but we're hopeful."

"Can we at least see him?" Lando asked on your behalf, his voice filled with concern. The doctor nodded sympathetically, understanding your need to be by Daniel's side during this critical time.

"Yes, you can see him, but please keep in mind that he needs rest and quiet. Follow me."

As you followed the doctor down the hallway, a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts raced through your mind. Fear, hope, and a desperate longing to see Daniel battled within you, creating a tumultuous storm of anticipation.

You clung to the doctor's words of hope, praying that they would ring true and that Daniel would pull through this ordeal.

As you entered Daniel's hospital room, you were taken aback by his appearance. His usually vibrant and energetic demeanor had been replaced by a pale and weakened figure lying motionless on the bed.

The sight of him hooked up to machines and monitors sent a pang of sadness and worry through your heart. Tubes and wires were connected to his body, a stark reminder of the severity of his condition.

Despite the sterile and clinical environment, the room was filled with an overwhelming sense of vulnerability and fragility.

The beeping of the machines provided a haunting soundtrack to the room, punctuating the silence that hung heavily in the air. Daniel's closed eyes gave no indication of his awareness of your presence, and you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of helplessness.

"I'll leave you to it." The doctor muttered, closing the door and leaving you and Lando in the room.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy with a mix of sorrow and uncertainty. As you stood there, surrounded by the beeping machines and the stillness of Daniel's presence, the weight of the situation sank deep into your being.

It was a somber reminder of the fragility of life and the powerlessness you felt in the face of it all.

You sat down beside Daniel, gently taking his hand in yours. The touch of his cold skin sent a shiver down your spine, a stark contrast to the warmth and vitality he once exuded. As you sat there, you couldn't help but silently will him to fight, to overcome whatever obstacles lay ahead.

"This is all my fault," you muttered, silently crying onto Daniel's hand, overwhelmed by guilt and regret. You couldn't help but blame yourself for the situation, questioning every decision and action that led to this moment.

The weight of guilt and regret pressed heavily upon you as you sat beside Daniel, crying silently onto his hand. Every decision and action leading up to this moment played on a loop in your mind, tormenting you with thoughts of self-blame and what-ifs.

The emotions were overwhelming, and you couldn't help but wonder if you could have done something differently to prevent this.

"It's not your fault," Daniel strained, his voice weak but filled with reassurance. You quickly looked up, astonishment and relief flooding your eyes as you saw him awake.

"I'll leave it up to you guys," Lando said as he left the room and left you both having no chance to hear him as he left.

"Does it hurt?" you muttered.

"No but it hurts that you're crying," Daniel muttered, slowly raising his hand to wipe your tears, "It's not your fault,"

"I shouldn't have left like that, I distracted you before your race and now this," you said, your voice filled with remorse and self-blame. Daniel's weak smile broke through the heaviness in the room as he gently squeezed your hand.

"Don't blame yourself," he whispered, his words carrying a sense of forgiveness and understanding.

"I shouldn't have treated you like that for you to leave the house," Daniel stated, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise to focus more on our relationship and prioritize our happiness above all else."

"You don't have to," you muttered.

"But I will, I promise."

"You know," Daniel began, his voice growing stronger, "I've had a lot of time to think while I was lying here. And I realized that life is too short for us to hold onto regrets and blame ourselves for things that are out of our control. We can't change the past, but we can choose how we move forward from here."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of gratitude and hope. "You're right," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of relief and determination.

"Can you get in here with me? I miss having you beside me when I sleep," Daniel muttered, his voice filled with longing and vulnerability.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was appropriate, but ultimately decided to climb into the hospital bed and snuggle up beside him, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace.

"Are you comfortable?" you whispered, laying against Daniel's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"More than ever," he replied, wrapping his arms around you tightly, as if never wanting to let go.

As you kept quiet, tracing Daniel's tattoos slowly, you marveled at the stories they told, each inked line representing a moment in his life. It was a silent act of love and connection, a way for you to understand him on a deeper level without words.

This was how most of your nights would end, with you tracing over Daniel's tattoos while he tenderly kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back. It was a comforting routine that brought you both a sense of peace and intimacy, allowing you to express your love for each other without the need for words.

In those quiet moments, you felt a deep connection and understood that the stories etched on his skin were a part of him, just as you were a part of each other's lives.

"Will you come to live with me again?" Daniel muttered against the top of your head, his words filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and felt a surge of love and longing.

"Daniel," you whispered, your voice filled with uncertainty. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the sincerity and desperation in his gaze.

A part of you wanted to believe him, to give him one more chance, but another part of you was hesitant, unsure if things could truly be different this time.

Daniel begged desperately, "Please, give me one chance and I promise that I will be more committed to our relationship if given the chance."

Taking a deep breath, you let the love you still felt for Daniel override your doubts. "Yes," you whispered, a mix of hope and caution in your voice. "I'll give us one more chance, but we have to take it slow and work on rebuilding trust."

Daniel grinned, "That's all I need," he said, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. "I promise you won't regret this. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us."

Your heart fluttered as Daniel's hand tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Goosebumps erupted across your skin with every touch, igniting a fire within you that only he could ignite. The electricity between you is palpable, and you can't help but melt into his embrace.

As your lips met, a wave of familiarity and passion washed over you. The taste of his kiss was like coming home, a sweet and addictive blend of warmth and tenderness. In that moment, all doubts and uncertainties melted away, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and desire.

The world around you faded into the background as you lost yourself in the intoxicating dance of his lips against yours, each kiss deepening the connection between your souls.

Time stood still as you surrendered to the magnetic pull of his embrace, savoring every stolen breath and gentle caress. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent promise of a love that had weathered storms and emerged stronger than ever.

You gently tug at his collar, out of breath, and as Daniel asks, "Do you want me to stop?"

Also out of breath, and with a mischievous smile, you whisper, "Just the opposite, please. Don't stop."

Your words are filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire, a silent plea for him to continue. With a knowing smile, Daniel leans in closer, his touch becoming even more electrifying, as the intensity between you grows with each passing moment.

"God, I missed this," Daniel muttered against your lips, his voice filled with longing and a tinge of regret. The weight of his words hung in the air, reminding you of the time lost and the journey ahead.

But in that moment, all that mattered was the fire that burned between you, igniting a passion that refused to be extinguished. . . .

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | S.H.

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, sad ending, allusions to cheating, heartbreak, break up, King!Steve, popular!reader, poorly proofread

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader | Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Steve is slipping through your fingers and you desperately hold onto him not realizing that his heart isn't yours anymore.

Word count: 2k

Note: This is only the preview, I wanted to see how this will do before I write the actual story! @take-everything-you-can thank you for listening to my ideas and helping with more!

-

The red wine is seeping through his shirt, staining his soft skin with it’s stickiness. He clumsily tries to wipe it off with a random cloth he found in Tina's bathroom, as though it would help, as though he could undo it, as though the redness hasn’t already stained too much of the blue material. 

He is mumbling incoherent words under his breath. 

You roll your eyes, reaching for the cloth in his hands, “it’s not coming off, Steve–”

“It’s coming,” he mumbles, drunkenly.

You sigh, walking around him, you put the cloth on the counter and reach out to him, cupping his cheeks, “come on, just let me take you home.” 

“Why don’t you go home?” 

He looks down at you with a look in his eyes that you aren’t familiar with. He furrows his brows as he looks into your eyes, searching for something that he won’t find in your eyes, ever. 

You are scared of it, you are scared of him, of what he feels, of what changed. You act like you don’t know what changed, you act like you are clueless, you act like you are unaware of everything that’s been going on behind your back. But you know everything. 

You know that Steve isn’t who you want him to be. 

He is King Steve and you are the queen of Hawkins High– you didn’t give that title to yourself, you never would, in a way it’s humiliating to you that people claim you to be some sort of queen, some mere girl that people look up to for some reason. You are nothing but a simple girl and Steve is nothing but a simple guy but unlike you, he loves the attention, especially the one he gets from all the girls, the ones that make him feel desired. You always hated the way he flirted with them even when he was already with you– he said he only did it because of Tommy and the other guys from the team, they always encouraged him to flirt with them. You didn't understand it, you would never do that to him. His flirtations were only halfhearted and he never actually did anything but it did nothing to make you feel better. Still, you stayed with him because you loved him and because you knew that he only did it for show, to keep up his stupid reputation.

After all he did only have eyes for you. Only you were allowed to see sides of him that no one else saw, only you got lingering looks, soft touches and kisses, only you got to lay in his arms and listen to the beat of his heart, only you were his girl, his only girl. Only you got all the I love you's.

He took you out on dates, he gave you flowers, he kissed you in his car, in downtown bars, behind the school, in his room, in your room. He made you happy like no one else did. He once did.

You were his first love, you had hoped that you would be his only love but then she came along and his love for you was just gone. 

When he suddenly stopped flirting with every girl that batted her lashes at him, you had hoped that he finally stopped caring about what his friends thought, you had hoped that he was finally ready to show everyone that he wasn’t like that, that he wasn’t some playboy who needed more than his girlfriend to keep him interested and satisfied but that was simply too much to wish for. You were a fool for considering that in the first place.

His eyes strayed away from you weeks ago, he had set his eyes on her, the girl that stole him and his heart away from you like it was nothing.  

Nancy Wheeler. 

The pretty freshman who was assigned to be his partner in some stupid history project. 

You knew that he was gone the moment he stopped calling you every night just to hear your voice before going to bed, you knew that his love had started to vanish when even after the project was over, he kept canceling or even forgetting date nights, you knew that his heart wasn’t yours anymore when you caught him staring at her with a look in his eyes that you wished to see when he looked at you. 

He isn’t yours anymore but you still hold onto him because he is still here, right in front of you and he puts his hand around your wrists, not hers. He looks into your eyes, not hers. But he doesn’t look at you with love or adoration in his eyes, no. He looks at you with something– with nothing. There is nothing in his eyes and you can already feel yourself growing sick because you know that this is it. You knew this was coming, you knew this would happen eventually, he will leave you, for her. 

You don’t know what happened between them, if anything happened at all, you don’t know if he crossed that line yet, he did emotionally but did he physically?

Your heart begins to pound in your chest, the sound of the music outside is too loud, even when you are stuck in this bathroom with your very drunk boyfriend who is about to shatter your heart into tiny little pieces, you still hear the music and it’s hurting your ears. Your throat tightens and your vision blurs. You feel like you are suffocating. 

“W-Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, not even recognizing your own voice, it’s so shaky and so far away. 

Steve frowns, he shakes his head a little as he keeps looking at you. His eyes flicker down to your cheeks, to your nose that he used to kiss every time he would say goodbye, your lips that are trembling from the fear that is running through your body, he holds your wrists tighter as he looks back into your tear filled eyes.

What is he doing? 

You step closer to him, blinking those tears away, you whisper his name, begging and pleading with your eyes. You love him. God, you love him so much. 

He says your name. Not baby, not honey, not babe, not princess. He says your name. 

“L-Let’s go home, okay?” You mumble shakily, tearing your eyes away from his, “let’s just go home together.” 

"Together?" He slurs as he stumbles forward a little, you steady him by grabbing his waist.

“Yeah, you wanted to stay with me, remember?” 

“I-I don’t wanna stay with you, I don’t wanna be with– with you,” he mumbles, closing his eyes, he sighs. You smell the alcohol in his breath, the wine on his shirt and it makes you feel nauseous. He grabs your shoulders and suddenly his touch is too much, knowing that it’ll be the last time he touches you. 

“W-What do you mean?”

He is too drunk to see how scared you really are, how hurt you truly are. He is too much of a fool to see anything. 

“You heard me,” he says as he gets closer to your face, “I don’t want to be with you,” he spits. 

You draw back, furrowing your brows and holding your breath as you feel your heart dropping to your stomach, of course you weren’t prepared for this even though you saw it coming. 

“Why not?”

He looks bad, his hair is messy from all the tugging all night, his eyes are red rimmed and he has dark circles beneath them, like he had been up all night, his eyes are filled with so many things yet none at all, right now, you don’t recognize him. 

He is gripping your shoulders tightly, you wish it’s because he is afraid to let you go. 

“I’m not in love with you anymore.” 

And just like that, with a few simple words, he broke your heart. 

Steve Harrington, the man you gave your heart to so willingly, despite your friends warning you about him, despite all the warning signs, you gave him your heart and you never regretted it even though you should have but he was your Steve. He was. 

Steve awaits a reaction from you. He expects you to break down, to slap him, to push him away from you, to ask why but you don’t. In fact, you don’t give him a reaction at all, you just nod at his words, somehow managing to keep the tears from falling, your trembling lip tells him that you do want to cry though but you don’t. 

The bile rises in your throat, you want to throw up, you want to fall to your knees and puke your guts and your heart out but you swallow harshly and close your eyes for a moment, pressing your lips together to keep yourself from sobbing. 

Please wake up, please wake up. You think to yourself, let this be a dream, just a bad dream. You want to wake up, in his arms, in his embrace, you want to feel his kisses on your shoulder, his fingers running through your hair, to hear his morning voice, to hear him say I love you. But you will never get any of it again. It’s over. 

“Okay,” you whisper, shakily. 

You step away from him, pushing his hands off your shoulders, you nod to yourself as you open your eyes to look at him one last time, “okay.” 

An unfamiliar feeling runs through him, gripping at his heart, it hurts and he suddenly feels nauseous. He blinks and stares at you as though he doesn’t understand what just happened. 

You look into each other’s eyes, you both drown everything else out, the voices outside, the music and the ongoing party. 

It’s over. 

You feel grief, the way you felt it all this time already, knowing that this was coming. 

He feels it too, though he doesn’t understand it yet. He doesn’t understand what a huge mistake he just made, how much he will despise himself for doing this to you, how much he will come to regret this. When he feels the loss of your touch, his heart begins to understand a little. 

Deep down you know that he will come back to you, he will. 

Unable to stand around him any longer, you step away, “I’ll get Tommy or something, he’ll drive you home–”

“What about you?” He asks as though he didn’t just tell you that he doesn’t want to be with you.

Your heart is hurting, it’s hurting so badly that you start to forget what it ever felt like to be loved by him. Your tears threaten to fall so you step around him and reach for the doorknob, “goodbye, Steve.” 

He says your name but you don’t dare to turn around to face him, you keep the sob in, pushing it down as you open the door and step out of the room.

By the time the door slams shut, you are already crying, the tears are streaming down your face as you rush through the hallway and down the stairs, not caring about the looks of curiosity of the people around you, you don’t care about anything right now. 

You stumble down the stairs, almost crashing on the hardwood floor if it wasn’t for your friend catching you before you can even take the fall. 

“Hey, oh my god, are you okay?” She asks as she steadies you, watching you with concern in her blue eyes. 

You shake your head as you look at her. 

She looks around as though she is searching for someone but when her eyes settle on him standing by the stairs, not walking down just yet, she knows that it’s him who made you cry. 

She rolls her eyes, putting her arm around you, she pulls you away from the stairs and out of the house, wrapping her cardigan around you after you both step out into the cold. The front door closes and despite the loud music, the laughter and all the people around him, Steve swears that he heard it shut, it echoed and it made him wince in pain. 

He doesn’t understand the deep regret in his chest, the pain in his heart and the confusion in his soul. 

He doesn’t understand it yet. 

-

next part

[loulovingho]

Bucktommy prompt: Tommy is dealing with chronic pain and Buck helps him through it.

Part 3 of my injured Tommy fic

If Tommy were being honest, there were some positives to being paralyzed. The first time he'd told Evan as much, he'd stared back at him with eyebrows raised and a face that said, “I can't wait to see where this is going.”

So Tommy had gone through the list he'd made in his head.

1. He always got the best parking spots.

2. Little old ladies now helped him in the grocery store.

3. People were constantly opening doors for him.

4. He'd get to board first on a plane... as soon as he and Evan figured out where they were going to go for their honeymoon.

5. Sometimes people let him cut in line.

6. He'd learned how to do some sick ass wheelies!

Buck had laughed along with his list, even adding a few himself.

7. Bigger hotel rooms.

8. Tommy's biceps were larger than Buck thought humanly possible.

9. If Buck got tired of walking, he could just sit on Tommy's lap and get a free ride.

And while these things were all good and true, there were plenty of things that made Tommy's new life far more difficult.

One of which were the body spasms.

He'd been warned about them in the hospital. Had a few of them before he'd been discharged. Learned how to deal with them, for the most part, through physical therapy. He'd also been put on muscle relaxants, sleeping pills, and antidepressants.

Which really only caused more problems, because he spent the better part of a month feeling so doped up that he was asleep more than he was awake.

His doctors changed doses and moved around schedules, trying to find the perfect balance, but Tommy hated the pills no matter what.

They didn't only impact his day to day life, but also his ability and desire for sex.

And God, as his body recovered and he and Buck settled into their new normal, he really wanted to want to have sex.

Adjustments already had to be made do to the reduction of sensation he felt around his pelvis. Things got weaker and weaker from there, reduced to no feeling at all in his legs.

They'd had their quickie wedding at the courthouse in February, followed by a ceremony with family the next month, and started planning a honeymoon in the summer. And that's when Tommy decided he was going to cut back on some of his medications, and cut others out completely. He was not going to spend his honeymoon in a half daze, not caring whether or not his drop dead gorgeous husband was naked on top of him.

Buck had protested at first. He'd made it clear that sex didn't mean everything to him. The things they still did do were pretty damn great, and it wasn't worth Tommy being in pain.

But Tommy insisted.

So they'd met with his doctors and come up with a plan. He could go off the sleeping pills, taking them only when needed. They'd reduce the antidepressant in increments. And muscle relaxants could be used as needed as well.

For the most part, everything went fairly smoothly. His spasticity would rear its ugly head from time to time, but it wasn't anything unmanageable.

Until, one night, it was.

He should have known it was going to be a bad night. He'd been restless and uncomfortable all day long. He'd go from his wheelchair, to the couch, to the wheelchair, to the dining room chair, to the wheelchair, to the bed, then back to the wheelchair.

He'd tried wheeling around the neighborhood, usually enjoying using his arms to push himself around, but today he just felt stiff.

The muscle relaxants in the kitchen cabinet had been calling his name, but he'd resisted. Evan was coming off a forty-eight hour shift tonight, and he'd already texted Tommy a picture of himself all sweaty, no shirt on, telling him he was gonna get himself all cleaned up for Tommy.

And Tommy wanted nothing more than to give him everything he wanted, because he wanted it too. Which was a damn good feeling to have back.

He hoped that sex would help his body relax.

It didn't.

He'd gotten through it though, with a few little twinges of pain in his chest and back. Nothing too severe. And with Buck on top of him, his body flushed red, head tossed back and mouth hanging open, the pleasure overrode the pain.

It didn't get really bad until after Buck had fallen asleep. Tommy wasn't sure how long he laid there, trying to stay as still as possible so he didn't wake Evan.

Even as the pain started to radiate up his back, he clenched his teeth to keep himself from groaning.

Then it went to his chest, causing his breath to hitch. The spasm made his back arch off the bed. If it didn't hurt so bad, he would have made some sort of exorcist joke.

His hands gripped onto the fitted sheet and he could feel a vibration.

His legs were probably shaking. He couldn't feel it, but it always happened when he had these spasms, even the minor ones.

He couldn't hardly get a breath. Not while fighting to be quiet. Not while his back and chest felt like they were becoming harder than a rock.

Finally, he unclenched his jaw and let out a half-moan, half-gasp.

“Ev- Evan,” he huffed out, releasing his grip on the sheet to smack his hand down on the bed. Tommy couldn't quite reach out far enough to touch him. Not when everything was seizing up like this. “Evan!” he repeated, louder this time.

Even in his deep sleep, Buck must've realized something was wrong. One second he was dead to the world, and the next he was jumping up, tossing the covers off of them both.

“What? What's wrong?” he said, clumsily reaching over to the nightstand and turning on the lamp.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut against the light. He didn't feel like seeing himself right now.

It took Buck's brain a few seconds to catch up to the sight in front of him. When he finally registered what was happening, he headed for the door. “I'm gonna get your meds.”

“No!” Tommy yelled, sucking in a breath. “D- Don't.”

“Tommy, you need your muscle relaxant.”

“I- I can't.” He managed to bring a hand to his throat, hoping Evan understood.

“You can't swallow right now,” Buck replied. It wasn't a question.

“Mhm. Just... Just-”

“Massage?” Buck guessed, getting to Tommy's side of the bed in record speed. “You think that would help this time?”

Figuring out the correct responses to these episodes was always a guessing game. Sometimes touch could make it worse. Tommy was pretty sure nothing could make it any worse right now.

“Mm... Mhm.” His jaw was getting so tight he could barely open his mouth.

“I'm gonna move you onto your side.” Very carefully, Buck turned Tommy's rigid body so he was facing away from him. It was an awkward angle, and he was having to do most of the work to keep Tommy on his side, but he managed to get into a position where he could start to dig the palm of his hand into Tommy's back.

At first, he was so tight Buck worried he was going to hurt him even more by massaging him. But, Tommy's breathing seemed to become a little fuller, and the groaning died down a bit.

So Buck continued. He'd alternate between using his palm, his fist, his thumb, to dig into the muscles and get them to loosen.

After a few minutes, Tommy had quieted down completely. His body relaxed into the bed as he flopped the rest of the way onto his stomach. The shaking in his legs subsided. He no longer felt like he was going to shatter into a million little pieces.

Still, Buck continued his massage. He worked up Tommy's neck, massaged his head, down to his shoulders, his back. He even massaged over his legs and feet, letting Tommy know what he was doing so he wouldn't think Buck had just left the room.

After about half an hour, Buck rested his hand at the center of Tommy's back. “Feel better?” he asked quietly, unsure if Tommy was even still awake at this point.

“Mhm. Thank you,” Tommy replied. He paused, blushing before starting to ask, “Did I... Do I need..?” He couldn't quite get the words out. Did I piss myself? Do I need to get up so we can change the sheets and clean me up?

It happened sometimes, when his body seized up. And while he nearly had full bladder control back, everything went haywire when it came to his spasms.

“No, you're good,” Buck answered, and Tommy thanked whoever might be listening that they were able to read each other's minds. “Think you can turn back over now?”

“Yeah. Yes, I- you'll have to help me though.”

“Of course.”

Once Tommy was resting comfortably on his back, head propped up under two pillows, Buck stared down at him. “You knew it was gonna happen today, didn't you?”

Tommy sighed. There was no point in lying. “Yeah. Not this bad though.”

“And you didn't take a pill earlier?”

“No.”

Buck sucked in a shaky breath as he nodded. He didn't answer. Didn't say a word. He simply turned and headed into the bathroom.

Tommy listened as he turned the sink on. It ran for a while, then Buck was back by his side. He ran a warm washcloth over Tommy's face, Tommy closing his eyes and melting into the touch.

Once Buck had finished wiping off his face, he started on his chest.

Tommy blinked his eyes back open, studying Buck.

He was tense, eyebrows knitted together as he focused on cleaning the sweat from Tommy's body.

Tommy's eyes drifted to Buck's hand, shaking ever so slightly.

He reached out and placed his hand over Buck's, gently gripping his wrist. Finally, Buck made eye contact with him.

“Please don't be mad,” Tommy said, knowing it was unfair even as he said it. Still, he hated to see Evan disappointed. Wasn't sure if he could handle it right now.

But as he looked further into Evan's eyes, he didn't see anger.

He saw fear, and sadness. Red-rimmed, wet with unshed tears that were threatening to spill over.

“M'not mad,” he replied, clearing his throat. “I- I'm upset. I don't like seeing you in pain, Tommy.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to be sorry. Just don't do it again. I can't... I can't enjoy being with you- having sex with you,” he clarified, “if I think you're hurting yourself for it.”

“I know, Evan. I just... I just wanted to be with you tonight. Wanted to feel good. Wanted to make you feel good.”

Buck tossed the rag onto the nightstand, sitting down on the bed beside Tommy. “You know what makes me feel good?” he started, resting two fingers under Tommy's chin so he couldn't look away. “Seeing you comfortable makes me feel good. Us enjoying dinner together makes me feel good. Going for a walk in the evening, watching movies, going out for ice cream, you holding me in your arms, getting to hold you in mine, kissing you for hours and hours. All those things, plus like a million more, make me feel good. Sex is fun, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it because damn you've got some moves,” he said, getting a smile out of Tommy, “but it's not everything to me. You are everything to me. I know we can't always prevent spasticity, but when we can, it would make me feel good if we did. Got it?”

Tommy nodded, giving himself a few seconds before verbally responding. “You can't just say stuff like that to me, you know,” he said, choked up. “I'm a softy now.”

Buck scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. “You were always a softy,” he informed Tommy, leaning in for a kiss.

“I'm gonna go get your pills now, okay?”

“Okay.” Before Buck could get too far, Tommy reached out and grabbed at his hand. “Hey. Have I told you lately that I love you?”

Buck cocked his head, giving Tommy a glare. “If you start singing Rod Stewart to me, I will divorce you.”

“No, seriously, Baby,” Tommy said, keeping a straight face. “Have I told you there's no one else above you?”

“I already know a good attorney.”

“You fill my heart with gladness,” Tommy continued, grinning, “take away all my sadness.”

Buck wriggled his hand free of Tommy's grasp, heading out toward the kitchen. “If you hear the front door slam, I'll be back later for my things.”

Tommy's smile only widened as he yelled out, “You ease my troubles, that's what you do!”

[cecilyv]

Graffiti on my body

(buck/tommy, 9-1-1, mini-fic)

Sometimes being multiple time zones away from @liminalmemories21 sucks, and sometimes you have a vision, you write up the basics, and you wake up to a moment of joy. Today we both got to say, "Good morning to me; and yes, exactly."

++

Tommy’s body has always been utilitarian; built and nourished for what could it do, how far it could be pushed. As much as he thought about it at all, he vaguely considered what it needed — food, water, exercise. Mostly it was a nuisance that never did enough, never as much as he wanted, as his superiors wanted — so he focused on how he could build it to hold more, help more, save more.

But now, wrapped in Evan’s sheets, bolstered by Evan’s body, he wonders, maybe for the first time, what his body wants, what his body can accept, what his body can give. Evan’s hands make him question what he’s been missing, what he could have been wanting, asking for. He wants to see what Evan sees; he wants to look down and see more than a job, a soldier, a firefighter. 

Evan touches him like nobody else ever has — there's desire and hunger, and those he's used to. He’s seen them before; maybe not to this degree, and that’s a trip all of its own.  But Evan touches him with wonder, too — like he's precious, like he could be hurt and Evan wants to keep him safe. Nobody's ever touched him like that. 

Evan lays with his head on Tommy’s chest, drawing on his skin with his finger, intricate swirls and whorls, tracing a pattern that Tommy can't see, but Evan clearly can because it's the same each time  — wants to ask what it is, but also doesn't, just feels it, lets it sink in until he can almost trace it himself. He lies there and takes it, skin still sensitive, flushed and slightly sweaty and, over time, he realizes he needs it, he wants it — Evan marking his place, claiming what’s his.

When he looks down at his skin later, he can almost see the love that Evan has inscribed into his skin. 

And one day, when Evan’s on a 48 and Tommy’s just lying in bed, he traces one of Evan’s favorite spots, the one he always goes back to — and he wouldn’t say he’s impulsive; he’d argue that he has good instincts— he pulls on his clothes and goes to the local tattoo parlor. He stands in parade rest, staring at the art on the wall, abstract colors and details and designs that he doesn’t understand but knows are beautiful. When she asks if she can help, he tries to explain what he wants but he can’t get it quite right. She looks at him with exasperation, with pity, and tells him to come back when he’s sure about what he wants; she doesn’t want him to regret his decisions. 

He leaves, buys a pen and when Evan gets home, when they’re lying in bed again and Evan starts absentmindedly tracing the pattern on his skin, he reaches into a drawer and pulls out the pen and hands it to Evan, and tells him, he wants to see what Evan sees, he wants to wear his mark, he wants to be covered in Evan.

And he goes back to the artist the next day, with Evan sketched on his skin and she examines Tommy in a new way, like he’s a work of art, like he’s changed, improved, special. She sees what Evan sees. 

And Tommy points at the design on his hip, just below his scar, and the woman tilts her head, consideringly, just breathes, “Yes.”

And he lies there and lets her permanently etch Evan onto his skin.

Evan’s eyes go wide when he sees it. “You,” he swallows, voice hoarse, “…show me. “

He knows it was actually pretty impulsive, that they haven’t really been dating long enough for tattoos. But he also knows he won’t regret it if they break up. It’ll break his heart — in so fast he can’t feel the bottom anymore — but he won’t regret it.

“I like the way you see me,” he says simply.

[joelscurls]

to the ends of the earth

pt ii of feel it in your bones | epilogue

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12k

summary: You spend the week of Spring Break in Austin with your long-distance-boyfriend Joel. As you settle into a comfortable routine together, questions regarding your future arise.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), fluff, angst (ik ik i’m sorry), smut, phone sex, masturbation (f, m), semi-public touching, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie, soft dom!Joel, hair pulling, tiniest bit of nipple play, implied oral (f receiving), brief mention of shower sex, use of pet names (darlin’, baby, etc.)

a/n: i’m honestly so overwhelmed with all the positive feedback I got on part 1 - thank you all so much! there will be a part 3 in the form of a lil epilogue, so stay tuned for more of these two! as always, ty to @caffeinated-validation for giving this your eyes <3

Long distance sucks. 

It’s been six months to the day since Homecoming Weekend, five since you and Joel put a label on things: “exclusive”. Not like you’d been talking to anyone else. Since Joel left Vermont that first time, he’d occupied your mind, made a home there, nestled deep between grooves of soft brain matter. 

He’s been back a couple of times since. Quick weekend trips — much like the first one — just without the bad art and couch surfing. And each time he’s come and gone has been more painful than the last. More memories to reminisce on when you lay in bed alone. More words exchanged to drown in. You feel as if your heart has been ripped apart and stitched haphazardly back together every time he slips from your embrace.

The last time you’d seen him in person was New Year’s, when you’d rented a cabin in the Green Mountains, watched Joel react to his first snow, exchanged I love yous for the first time under falling flurries. 

It feels now as if it were a lifetime ago.

It’s never enough — time, kisses, touches. It’s all so fleeting. You want, more than anything, to burrow into Joel’s chest and make a permanent residence there. To go with him where he goes, be with him where he is, always. 

But you know you can’t — it’s not realistic. You have your life here, and Joel has his there. You remind yourself of this fact more times a day than you’d like to admit. 

You will be with him again soon enough, though, and for the longest stint of time yet. An entire week in Texas, you and Joel. 

The thought of it keeps you going in the leadup to spring break.

It’s the night before your flight, an early-morning departure from Burlington International Airport. You’ve waited until the last minute to pack, so here you are, hovering above your suitcase — which lays sprawled out on your bed — aimlessly throwing pairs of underwear and t-shirts into the main compartment. 

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. A much welcomed distraction. 

And then you notice that it’s Joel calling. 

Your heart skips a beat. You answer. Put it on speaker-phone. 

“Hello?,” you purr, flopping down on the small empty space on the bed. 

“Hi baby,” he drawls, his voice so sweet and saccharine it makes you melt. “All packed?” 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m ready.” 

“Me too,” he says. “So ready. I miss you.”

“I miss you,” you parrot. “How was your day?”

He sighs. “Fine, I guess. Had a bunch’a loose ends to tie up at this site before Tommy takes over for the week. A lot’a back and forth on the phone, orderin’ shit.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I hope you won’t be stressed all week thinking about it.”

He hums, so deep it vibrates through the phone. It goes straight to your core. “Impossible, babygirl. Once I have you here, ‘m not gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout anything else.”

Your face heats. An unignorable pang of desire swells in your chest.

“Joel,” you say, desperation already coloring your voice.

“Yeah?”

“I need you.”

Phone sex has become somewhat of a norm for you and Joel, that overwhelming need to be close to one another manifesting as desperate touches of your own fingers and half-coherent pleas through the speaker. It’s rare that a bedtime conversation between the two of you doesn’t end in panting down the line, telling each other goodnight through labored, satiated breaths.

Tonight, your need for him is bordering on carnal, carving into your skin like a sharp blade. You know you’ll have him tomorrow, and a number of days after that, but still, it feels so intangible, unreal. Like you can’t let yourself fully believe it until he’s in your arms. 

And so you need him — right now — in any way you can have him.

“You wanna touch yourself?” 

“Yes Joel — please.”  

“Fuck babygirl,” he breathes. “Okay. Lemme take care’a you.” 

You slip your fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants impatiently. You feel yourself through the thin fabric of your panties and, unsurprisingly, you’re soaked. It’s like you’ve been pavloved  — like all you need is the sound of Joel’s voice, soft and deep like crushed velvet, and you’re gone  — every single time.

“I’m so wet,” you mewl. 

Joel groans on the other end. He sounds almost pained, like not being there to feel you, to taste you, is physically hurting him. If it is though, he covers it up well, snapping his attention back to you like a reflex. 

“You still got your pants on?,” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Take ‘em off for me. And your panties.”

You do as he says, pulling your sweatpants and underwear down in one tug, letting them bunch at your ankles. 

“They’re off,” you say. 

“Good. Now touch yourself baby, go ahead.”

You shallowly dip two fingers into the pool of arousal that’s formed between your thighs. Then you glide slick digits over your aching clit, back and forth, a quiet whimper slipping from your mouth.

“‘ts it, darlin’,” he coos, “rub that pretty pussy for me.”

You pretend your fingers are his — bigger, rougher — as you increase the pressure you’re applying and begin to rub tight circles against your clit. The thought of your touches being his, instead, leaves you failing to swallow back a moan.

“Joel – ngh – it feels good.”

“‘Good, baby,” he says. “Doin’ so good for me.”

You keep going, your breaths becoming increasingly uneven, your hips inadvertently canting off the bed in an attempt to create more friction. You can sense that you’re dripping onto the duvet below you, staining it with your arousal. You’re way past caring at this point — you just need to cum.

You bring your other hand between your thighs, teasing your entrance. You sigh when you find how much wetter you’ve gotten in just a few minutes. You’re sure Joel must be able to hear the lewd slickslickslick of your fingers swirling against your sopping cunt — which he confirms when he curses under his breath.

“Fuck; that all for me, darlin’?”

“Mhm,” you moan.

“Gonna fuck yourself with your fingers for me? Cum all over ‘em, imaginin’ it’s my cock, instead?”

“Yes,” you cry. “Please, Joel, need your cock so bad.” 

“I know babygirl, I know.”

You push two fingers inside as deep as you can get them, crooking them against your walls until you find that spongy spot. You fuck yourself in time with the fingers rubbing your clit, your pace reflexively increasing when you start to feel that familiar warmth growing in your abdomen.

You feel it build, up up up — and then it falls, fading completely. 

“Fuck,” you murmur. 

You don’t relent. But again and again, even with the perfect amount of pressure applied to your clit and the fingers in your pussy curved just right, you find your orgasm just out of reach. You let out a frustrated whine, your movements stalling completely. You can’t get there, not like this, not alone. 

“Joel,” you punch out, “need you to touch yourself. Need you to cum with me.”

He inhales a sharp breath through his teeth. “Fuck, sweetheart — okay.”

You hear a faint clink of his belt on the other side of the phone, followed by the telltale whir of a zipper. There’s rustling over the line. When you hear him sigh, you know his cock is in his hand. And then there’s a shift in his breathing, subtle, but enough that you pick up on it. Evidence that he’s started stroking himself.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Miss that perfect little cunt so bad, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you again. Gonna ruin you.”

You love when he talks to you like this — when he loses himself in it and his tongue works faster than his brain. You’d never imagined when you first met him, reserved, quiet Joel, that he could be so filthy.

“Tell me —“ you plead — “tell me how you’re gonna fuck me, Joel.”

“Fuck, gonna get you in my bed, burry my face between your legs until you’re beggin’ me to stop…”

“Shit,” you gasp, your fingers stuttering at his words.

“‘N then ’m gonna fill you up with this cock, make you go dumb on it, fuck you so good your eyes roll back in your head.”

You whimper. You know he’s not just all talk from experience, and the thought of him fulfilling all these promises so soon has you plummeting toward the brink. As long as he keeps going, keeps talking, you’re not going to last another minute. 

“Gonna make you soak it, make you cum all over my fuckin’ cock. Fuck — swear ’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

You feel your orgasm approaching again. But it’s not waning, not this time. You chase it, letting Joel’s words run on a loop in your head: gonna fill you up with this cock, gonna make you feel so good, bury my face between your legs until you’re beggin’, gonna make you go dumb on it, gonna make you feel so good, so good, so good…

“So close Joel,” you breathe. “So fucking close.”

“‘ts it, darlin’”, he says, his voice strained. “‘m right behind you — shit — let me hear you cum. Wanna — ahh — wanna hear you.” 

That’s all it takes, just his encouragement, and you’re cumming so hard the room spins.

You can faintly register Joel talking you through it, able to make out a string of good girls through ringing ears. When you finally start to come down, you can tell he’s nearing his own climax, panting down the line as your own breaths begin to even.

“Please Joel,” you beg. “Please cum for me.”

He lets out a low growl, and then your name is spilling from the tip of his tongue, over and over again, in between strangled moans. 

The line is quiet for a moment, apart from you and Joel’s shallow breathing. 

“Fuck,” he says when he’s recovered from his orgasm, “how many hours til you get here?

You laugh. “I don’t know — too many.”

“Yeah, too many,” he agrees. 

There’s another lull. You yawn exasperatedly, only now realizing how exhausted you are. An earth shattering orgasm will do that to you, you guess.

Joel chuckles on the other end.

“Go to bed, baby. It’ll make the time go faster.”

You sigh. You don’t want to hang up. Don’t want to be without him again. But he’s right. He usually is — though you’d never admit it out loud.

“Yeah, okay,” you acquiesce after a moment.

“I love you,” he hums. 

“I love you too, Joel.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he adds.

You smile. You’re glad he can’t see you right now, can’t see how ridiculously giddy he makes you. 

“Me either,” you say. “Goodnight.”

“Night, darlin’.”

You’re still grinning like an idiot when you hang up the phone. You lay there for a few minutes, just staring at the ceiling, willing time to move faster.

Eventually you peel yourself off the bed and finish packing. You throw in some lacy bras you know Joel will love — if you end up wearing any real clothes this week, that is. Then you zip your suitcase shut, toss it onto the floor somewhere, and slip under the covers. 

You flick your bedside lamp off with a sigh, and begin your attempt to coax sleep. You are tired, but you’re more excited.

When you finally do drift off — at some ungodly hour of the morning — you dream of Joel, of his large arms wrapped around you, his honeyed voice in your ear. Tomorrow, he whispers, again and again. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

You wake up the next morning with butterflies the size of baseballs in your stomach. You get to the airport unnecessarily early, make it through security in record time, and plant yourself down at your gate with a coffee in hand two hours before your scheduled departure. 

Your body is practically vibrating in your seat, only partially due to the caffeine. Joel will no doubt still be asleep at this hour, so you shoot him a text to wake up to: 

at the airport, all checked in. can’t wait to see you, cowboy <3

And then you send one to Sarah, who you know will be awake, her study-abroad trip to Cambodia meaning she’s probably studying or eating dinner right now.

On my way to see your dad; miss you! Can’t wait to hear all about your studies sometime soon :) 

She almost immediately responds:

Yay! Miss you both so much! Yes, talk soon pls - lots to catch you up on. The professors here want me to stay forever (I won’t, dw, need to be able to bother you and my dad on a more regular basis).

You laugh to yourself. 

Sarah had been thrilled when she’d found out about your relationship. Had been way too proud of herself for setting you up. When you’d learned she’d faked sick the night you met Joel at the art exhibition, you’d found yourself unable to feign disapproval. How could you care, really, when you’d ended the night straddling him, kissing him?

Not that you’d told her that, of course. She didn’t need to know every detail of that weekend.

It had been…interesting, to say the least, navigating a long-distance-something with the father of one of your students. But Sarah hadn’t pried, even when you’d suspected she wanted to. She’d let it bloom into something more, something real, before beginning to pester you with the questions: isn’t he the worst cook? do you think you guys will get married? can I be your maid of honor if you do?

To which you’d responded: yes (affectionately), I don’t know, and of course you can.

You’ll miss her this week, but another part of you — a more selfish part — is thrilled to have a week alone with Joel, without any distractions. 

So thrilled, you can barely steady your shaking hands enough to plug your phone into the outlet under your seat.

You scroll mindlessly on social media as it charges until it’s time to board. Then you’re shuffling single-file down the aisle of the plane to your row, hauling your suitcase into the overhead, and taking your seat next to the window.

It’s your first flight of two, separated by a three-hour layover. You make it to Philadelphia in just over an hour, halfway through the cheesy 2000s rom-com you’d selected on the inflight entertainment screen. You make a mental note to finish it on the next leg.

You get lunch once you’ve tracked down your new gate  — pay seventeen bucks for a soggy airport sandwich and a bag of chips that, upon opening, is mostly air. When you sit down to eat, you notice that Joel texted you back.

Got one foot out the front door already. Can’t wait to see you babygirl.

You can’t help the embarrassing smile that pulls across your face. 

You re-read the text no less than ten times before you board your next flight — then once more for good measure just before you put your phone on airplane-mode and shove it in your sweatshirt pocket. 

This is it, you think as the wheels lift off the ground and the clouds come closer into view. No more countdown. It’s here.

You have to refrain from sprinting off of the plane as soon as it’s landed in Austin.

You grab your suitcase from the overhead with reckless abandon, nearly knocking another piece of luggage out of the compartment and onto a passing flight attendant. 

“Shit, sorry,” you curse. 

She glares at you, unamused. 

“I’m just…I’m meeting someone here,” you ramble. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Too excited.” 

She nods. Pops her gum. “Mhm. Have a good day, ma’am. Thanks for flying with us.” 

You keep your head down as you disembark.

It’d been a packed flight, and so you find yourself weaving through the crowd that’s gathered at the gate as you exit, around parents who have stopped to tie their kids’ shoes and solo travelers pausing to book their ride shares.

You check your phone as you walk, unwilling to waste even a fraction of a second. Find the directions buried in the text thread between you and Joel detailing how to get from your terminal to the passenger pickup area. 

You follow them, suitcase rolling behind you as you trudge along, down a couple escalators and through a corridor.

You round one last corner — and then you see him, standing with his back to a pillar, hands anxiously fiddling at his sides. 

Now you are sprinting.

Your suitcase is abandoned somewhere behind you as you run toward Joel. He doesn’t see you at first. You make it a few feet, shoes squeaking on tile, before his head snaps up and his eyes catch yours. And then he’s bounding forward, meeting you in the middle, your bodies colliding, hard. 

He throws both arms around you, squeezes you so tightly you think your blood vessels may burst. You accept your fate willingly, breathing him in, letting your hands rove along his broad back.

He smells like pine and worn leather and Joel. 

He feels like home. 

He bruises a kiss in your hair, whispering against your scalp in disbelief: baby, you’re here.

You stand wrapped up together for a long moment, Joel rocking you back and forth as you catch your breath. Then you pull apart to look at each other. 

Only then does it begin to sink in — Joel is right in front of you, touching you — and you’re about to spend a whole week together.

“C’mere,” he drawls, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing his lips into yours. It’s a slow kiss, punctuated by gentle strokes of his fingertips along your jaw. Your tongue rolls against his and your fingers anchor into his shirt collar. It simultaneously feels like it lasts forever and not nearly long enough.

“C’mon,” he whispers against your lips when you part. “Let’s go home, darlin.”

You grab your forgotten suitcase and pull it behind you with one hand, the other in Joel’s as you walk to his truck. It’s parked just outside, at the curb, hazard lights blinking. 

“Was supposed to wait here for you,” he explains as he opens the passenger door, helping you in. He takes your suitcase, throws it onto the backseat like it weighs nothing. 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you smile as he gets into the driver’s seat. “Felt like a rom-com — I liked it.” 

“Yeah,” he says, turning his key in the ignition. His cheeks flush. “I liked it too.”

You stop for fast food on the way to Joel’s — Whataburger, naturally. They don’t have these in Vermont, so you try to savor your burger, but your long day of travel has you ravenous, so you wolf it down, ketchup smearing on the corners of your mouth between bites. Joel just laughs at you from the driver’s seat, piece of lettuce lodged between his front teeth. 

You get it for him — fingernails prodding at his gums, but he lets you. Even sighs at the contact. When you flick the leaf off your fingertip, he pulls you in for a kiss, much softer than the one you shared in the airport, but dizzying, nonetheless. “Better?,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if he’s asking about his teeth or you, but both are true, so you hum affirmingly. 

You sink back into your seat, adjusting your seatbelt where it’s tightened around your neck.

You feel full and drowsy as you throw your trash into the paper bag the food came in, tucking it by your feet. 

You let your head rest against the window. The glass rattles against your skull as the truck begins to move, but you ignore it, too tired to care. And then you let your eyes shut —  just to rest them — that’s all.

You don’t remember falling asleep. 

You come to when you feel Joel at your side, trying to move you from the passenger seat. 

“Baby,” you hear him say. Your eyes flutter open. He brings a hand up to your face, peeling stray strands of hair from where they’re stuck to your forehead and pushing them behind your ear. 

“We’re home,” he drawls. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” 

You nod groggily, still letting your eyes adjust to the daylight. You take in your surroundings: you’re parked in his driveway, his house right in front of you. Somehow, it’s just as you’d imagined it to be — big, sprawling porch at the front, meticulously kempt yard ornamented with a beautiful red oak tree. It’s so Texan, you think, so Joel.

He grabs your luggage from the truck. Then he helps you out, walks you with a large hand wrapped around your middle to the front door and into the house. Once inside, he sets your suitcase down. 

And then he hugs you again, like he’s afraid to let you out of his embrace, lest you vaporize into thin air.

“Still tired? Wanna take a nap?,” he asks.

You yawn, right in his ear. He laughs; that’s enough of an answer. 

“Alright,” he says. You follow him to his bedroom, too sleepy to argue. You pass through the kitchen and living room on the way. Through drooping eyes, you notice scattered pieces of Joel — the guitar leaning against its stand next to the couch, the pictures of him and Sarah lining the staircase. It makes your chest tighten, being here in his house, seeing the parts of him that he can’t bring with him when he visits you.

His room is the most him though — masculine and minimalist. A canvas with a ram painted on it hangs above his bed — a gift from someone, you assume. You can’t exactly imagine Joel strolling the aisles of Target, picking out artwork to hang in his house. There’s another photo of him and Sarah on his bedside table that must’ve been taken at her highschool graduation, cap adorning her head full of curls. 

It makes you smile — all of it. 

You lope over to the bed, climbing in when Joel pulls back the covers for you. He tucks you in with a kiss to your forehead. His duvet wafts his scent, when you pull it up to your face. You inhale it deeply. Commit it to memory.

“Wait,” you say as he turns to leave the room. “Aren’t you going to stay with me?” 

He leans against the doorframe, wood creaking under his weight. “Well I don’t really nap, darlin’,” he admits. “You get some rest, I’ll just be doin’ some stuff around the house.” 

“Please,” you say, sticking out your bottom lip at him. You watch as he thinks on it for a minute, then sighs in defeat. 

“Okay, I’ll nap with you baby.” 

He climbs in next to you. “Only for a little bit, though,” he mumbles, like he’s trying to convince himself.

His broad chest presses into your back. He drapes an arm over your side as you nuzzle into his embrace, so warm, so safe. He noses at your neck, leaving gentle kisses along your exposed shoulder. This, you think, is what heaven must feel like. 

The sound of Joel’s breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up, the room is cast in shadows. It’s dusk, you realize, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You roll over. Find that Joel is no longer next to you.

His side of the bed is still warm, you notice, so he must not have gotten up too long ago.

You clamber to your feet, ignoring the blood rushing to your head as you stumble out of his room. You make your way down the stairs, hand braced against the wall as you descend. The lights are on in the living room — a sign of life. But Joel isn’t there. 

You wander into the kitchen. He’s not here either.  Did he leave the house? You look around for a note, fish your phone out of your pocket to see if he texted you. But you have zero notifications and the dining table is empty, apart from a pair of salt & pepper shakers and a napkin holder. 

You call out for him, to no avail. Stumped, you make your way to the door that leads to the garage, the only room you haven’t checked yet, and wedge it open. 

To your surprise, you find Joel standing at the back of his truck, loading something into the bed. Upon further inspection, you see that it’s blankets.

Huh?

“Hey,” you announce, making your way down the small set of stairs. He whips around at the sound of your voice. The color in his face drains, like he’s just been caught in the act of something.

“Darlin’,” he says, eyes wide. “You’re up.”

You join him by the truck. Let him rest a heavy arm on your shoulder. You peer up at him with a quirked brow. “What are you doing out here?”

“Well, I uh, I had planned somethin’ for you. Not sure if you’re up for it?”

You look back at the blankets in the truck bed. It’s not just blankets, you discover. There are pillows too, big ones, like the kinds you put on patio furniture, plus a small radio situated in the corner. And there’s a bag of chips leaned up against one of the pillows, next to a box of your favorite candy.

“A picnic… in your truck?”

He laughs. “Not quite. There’s a drive-in movie theater down the road. Thought we could go.”

Those butterflies from this morning suddenly return, swarming your insides at the realization — Joel planned a date for you.

It’s not that he isn’t normally romantic, because he is. 

You recall one particular weekend he’d visited — he’d insisted on cooking dinner for you at your apartment, determined to make it perfect for you. He’d ended up burning the chicken and oversalting his sauce, but you hadn’t cared one bit — not when he’d gazed at you so adoringly across the candlelit table, one of your hands in his as he’d peppered each of your knuckles with kisses.

On another visit, he’d scouted one of the only nearby mountains you hadn’t hiked yet and climbed to the top with you — because the internet said this was the best spot to catch the sunset. You’d stood at the lookout, hand in hand, and shared your greatest dreams — yours to have your research published in a major publication, his to leave contracting behind and buy a sheep ranch. And when the sun had dipped behind the horizon, the sky bleeding vibrant pinks and oranges, he’d just looked at you.

So you know he’s romantic. Still though, you’re practically swooning at the scene in front of you.

“So, you wanna go?,” he asks. He scuffs his boot along the concrete floor, awkwardly. “It’s okay if you d-“

“Joel,” you say. “I wanna go.”

He smiles. Rolls the cover over the truck bed. Presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The sky is dark by the time you get to the drive-in. There are already quite a few cars in the dirt lot, parked in neat rows facing the giant movie screen that sits at the edge of a treeline. There’s a person directing traffic, a teenage boy, you guess, based on his stature, and he twirls his light-up batons in the rearview as Joel rounds the corner to the back row.

He backs into a spot at the far-left, car to your right parked a good ten feet away. And then he cuts the ignition with a quiet grunt, steps out, and makes his way over to your door to open it for you and help you down.

The pillows in the truck bed had jostled around a bit on the drive over, Joel finds when he unfurls the cover. So he adjusts them, making sure everything is just right. Then he unlatches the tailgate and helps you hoist yourself up, following closely behind you as you crawl toward the back. 

Once he’s set the radio to the right channel, Joel sits with his back flush to the truck cab and spreads his legs, patting one of his thighs in invitation. He doesn’t need to ask twice — you immediately crawl between them, letting your head fall back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in him. 

A satisfied hum escapes your lips. The realization hits you then that you hadn’t even asked what movie you were seeing. Not that you care much — it could be a documentary about grass, and you’d still have a good time, thanks to the company. 

It’s some dystopian sci-fi thriller, you find, as the opening credits begin to roll, with a title you vaguely remember hearing in passing at some point. 

And it’s good. You’re invested in the story by the end of the first act, curious to find out how the main character is going to save her love interest. 

But then you lose interest, quickly, when you feel the white-hot touch of Joel’s fingers against your skin as he slips them under your shirt, inching down your stomach.

He halts when he gets to the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitches, lodged somewhere in your throat when he dips one finger under the denim. Your hips lift reflexively and he laughs lowly in your ear, prompting a shaky exhale to sputter out of you.

“Stay still, darlin,” he whispers, slipping another finger into your pants.

You try, you really try not to move, but he’s teasing you, his fingers moving the pace of molasses toward your core, where he hasn’t touched you in months. You feel like your entire body is going to combust if he doesn’t make contact with your clit in the next five seconds. 

You whine, quiet enough that it’s muffled by the sounds of the movie echoing from the radio, but still too loud for Joel, apparently. He reaches his free hand out to turn the volume up, pushing the nob a few decibels higher. 

He returns his attention to you. “You want this, babygirl?,” he asks, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. 

“Yes,” you whisper pleadingly. “Please touch me, Joel.” You feel his cock stiffen behind you, prodding your back. 

“Okay,” he says. He pulls his hand out completely to unbutton your pants and unzip them halfway. Then he’s cupping your sex through your panties, letting his fingers brush over the wet spot that has already formed. 

“Gotta be quiet then,” he purrs. “Can ya do that for me?”

You’re not sure you can, to be honest. He’s barely touching you and you already feel like you’ve lost all control over your body. Whatever it does, however you react — you have no say in the matter. Still, you’re not about to tell him that, risk him stopping, so you nod, furiously, your desperate face illuminated by the flashing light of an action sequence playing out on screen. 

He dips two fingers into your underwear, immediately pressing them to your seam. He curses under his breath behind you, clearly pleased with how wet you are for him, with how easily he breaks you down. He brings them up to your clit, then, swiping back and forth, back and forth, his calloused touch forcing you to suppress a yelp. His fingers feel so rough compared to yours, so good. Breaths are pouring out of you in quick succession, your chest heaving with pleasure. 

You’re briefly paranoid as Joel continues his ministrations that someone might see — but as you glance around the parking lot, you realize that you can’t see anyone else, just shadows in cars and on folding chairs, all focused on the movie in front of them. Slouched within the walls of Joel’s truck bed, it’s impossible for anyone to clock what’s happening.

So you let your body relax, melting into Joel behind you, your hands clinging onto his thighs to hold yourself steady. “‘ts it baby,” he says, your pliancy encouraging him to press his fingers down harder. “Always so good for me, huh?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, your voice still hushed. 

“Yeah, you are” he agrees, rubbing your clit faster, more deliberately. He knows by now just how to touch you — exactly how to bring you straight to the edge and send you toppling over. And it’s clear that time apart hasn’t affected this in the slightest, your abdomen already tensing, familiar coil tightening threateningly in your core.

You warn Joel with a squeal. His free hand flies up to your face, covering your mouth in an instant. Your eyes roll back instinctively at the lewdness of it, of him muffling you with his palm. You moan freely against it, teeth scraping the skin there as your orgasm grows nearer and nearer and nearer.

It hits you hard. You have to bite down on Joel’s hand to keep from screaming out as it scorches through you, heating every inch of your skin as it does. Your fingernails are digging into Joel’s legs so hard you think you may be drawing blood even through thick denim. He talks you through it, quietly, his utters of atta girl, look at you, ya cum so pretty for me baby keeping you tethered to reality.

When your breathing begins to even and the trembling in your thighs subsides, he removes his hand from your mouth and the other from your pants. 

You gaze up at him through bleary eyes just as he brings the fingers that were pressed against your pussy straight to his mouth, sucking on them through a satisfied hum. He pulls them out slowly, and your body nearly buckles at the sight.

“Taste so sweet,” he whispers in your ear. “Always taste so goddamn sweet.”

Your head swims. 

“Joel,” you say, pointedly. 

“Yeah, darlin’?” 

“We need to leave. Right now.”

He cocks his head at you, confused. “Are you alr-”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off. “But I need you to fuck me right now, and I don’t think we can do that here.” 

You see his eyes darken, his jaw twitch. 

“Yeah,” he says after a few seconds. “Let’s get out of here.”

Joel speeds the entire way home.

The hand he doesn’t have on the wheel grips your thigh, making you dizzy with desire by the time he pulls into the driveway. He lodges the passenger side door open so hard you’d think there was an emergency (maybe needing to fuck your significant other after months of not seeing them in person does constitute as an emergency, though — who’s to say?).

He unbuckles your seatbelt for you, barely letting your feet hit the pavement before his lips are on you and he’s slamming the truck door shut, caging you against it. It feels like he’s everywhere all at once, his tongue sliding along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You’re panting by the time he pulls back, begging him in not so many words to bring you inside and pound you into the mattress.

It must take you five whole minutes to get from the front door to his room. Joel’s hand is splayed across the globe of your ass as you walk. He stops you every ten feet to spin your around and kiss you again, sucking on your tongue, needy moans slipping from his parted lips. His shirt has been discarded by the time you get to the stairs, and your hands greedily take in every inch of skin they can reach as you make your way up step by agonizing step. 

When you finally make it upstairs, he backs you through the threshold, straight to his bed. You tumble down onto the mattress in a heap, mouths melding together in desperation as he reaches a hand behind you, under your shirt, and unclasps your bra. You help him out, reaching up your sleeve to tug down one strap, then shifting your weight to pull down the other. When you move, he follows you, not letting his mouth part from yours a second sooner than it needs to. 

He tugs the bra the rest of the way off your body and pulls your shirt up over your chest, revealing your bare breasts. Only then does he unlatch his lips from yours so that he can admire you.

“More gorgeous every time I see you,” he mutters, rolling one of your nipples between two fingers until it hardens under his touch. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. He leans down, lathing his flat tongue over the sensitive peak, eliciting a heady moan from you. 

“Joel,” you cry beneath him, a hand coming up to his shoulder. You push against him lightly. 

And he gets it — as much as he loves teasing, now is not the time. You’ve been teased enough by the miles between you and him. So he pulls back. Lets you roll him over. You straddle him, bracing your hands on his chest and experimentally roll your hips. You immediately feel his hard cock straining against his jeans underneath you. 

You reach between your bodies then, prying open his button and yanking the zipper down. Then your hand is in his pants, tracing the outline of his heavy cock where it bulges under cotton.

You lean down and press a kiss to his clothed length. He hisses through his teeth. 

“Baby,” he groans, hand coming down to tilt your chin up towards his face. “Another time. I need to be inside you. Right now.”

You don’t argue. He sits up. Shuffles back to the headboard, bringing you with him. He pulls your shirt the rest of the way off, over your head. And then he’s helping you slip out of your jeans and panties so that you’re completely naked atop him. 

He pulls you in for another bruising kiss as he tugs his pants and boxers down, just enough to free his leaking cock. He strokes it languidly, smearing pre-cum from the tip down his length. You’re already impatient by the time he’s lining himself up with your entrance, so much so that you have to refrain from taking him all the way down in one go. You use your better judgment, sinking onto him slowly, until you’re flush with his pelvis, the hair at his base tickling your inner thighs. 

His eyes are squeezed shut, his breathing labored as you adjust to the size of him. You’ve missed the sweet, burning stretch of him, the fullness you feel when he’s inside you, like you’re complete, whole. You’re pretty sure you could stay like this forever, make a home here on his throbbing cock. 

When the sting dissipates, you begin to move, rocking on top of him. He grabs onto your hips, steadying you, his eyes blinking half-open to take you in.

“Fuck,” he rasps as you set a steady pace, his cock disappearing from you, then filling you to the brim again and again. “‘ts it baby, take my fuckin’ cock; ridin’ it so good.”

His hips snap up, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. You wrap your hands around his neck reflexively, digging your nails into his shoulders, indenting crescent moons in the muscle there as he ruts against your g-spot. Your face falls against his chest, your muffled pleas for Joel to fuck you harder, harder, right there barely coherent.

He gets the message regardless.

He pulls you down onto his cock, essentially spearing you on it. You think he must be bruising your cervix, the way his thick head is repeatedly bumping it, but you don’t care. You need every inch of him, need to take everything he has to give you; it feels as essential as the air being punched out of your chest right now. 

He’s fucking up into you so brutally that you find yourself delirious, eyes rolling back in your head for the second time tonight. You can’t even find the strength to warn him of your rapidly approaching orgasm, your body going limp in his grasp. He doesn’t need you to, though — he can tell just by the way you squeeze him that you’re close. 

“Gonna cum for me, baby?,” he growls, hitting that spongy spot over and over and over. 

“Uh — ahhh — uh-huh,” you moan weakly into his skin. Your fingers loosen at his neck, too weak to hold onto him any longer.

Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head off of his chest and holding it up so that you’re looking him in the eye. 

His gaze is lascivious, almost carnal, like going without you for so long has him ready to swallow you whole.

“Look at me,” he spits, “look at me when you cum.”

You nod wearily. You want to give him that, want to give him anything he asks of you. But you’re not sure if you can, not when your eyelids feel like boulders on your face. 

“C-can’t Joel,” you manage through moans as they fall shut again. 

“Nuh-uh,” he snaps, yanking at your roots. Your eyes fly open at the intrusion. 

“You can do it baby, c’mon. Missed these pretty eyes so much — wanna see ‘em.”

You can only imagine how absolutely fucked-out you must look, using every last ounce of energy in your body to keep from slipping again. Your eyes glaze over slightly as he gives a particularly rough thrust, and you feel yourself skyrocket to the edge.

You feel like putty in his hands — and maybe you are. You’d let him mold you to whatever shape he pleased right about now, when he’s making you feel this good.

“There ya go,” Joel coos, bringing his thumb to your clit. He lazily swipes it once — twice — and you begin to fall apart in his arms.

It’s almost violent, your second orgasm of the night. It rips through you, your body thrashing on top of Joel’s, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he continues pounding into you. It feels different too, something more intense lingering, the threat of it just behind your walls. 

And then he hits that spot again, the one that makes you see stars, and you’re gushing around him. Your release splatters out onto the duvet below you, soaking it. If Joel notices, he doesn’t care.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groans.

Your eyes adjust as you come to. You take in Joel’s, charcoal black and blown-out with lust. You feel shy, almost, which you know is ridiculous given he’s still inside you. But even so, the way he looks at you, like you’re the most desirable thing he’s ever seen — it makes your cheeks heat.

He flips you over onto your back in one swift movement, slipping from you momentarily as he helps you to wrap your shaky legs around him. Presses a gentle kiss to your trembling ankle as he does. And then he’s burying himself in you again, right to the hilt, his pace slowing as he nears the edge. 

“Please baby,” you cry. “Please cum inside. Need to feel you.”

Your body feels boneless under Joel’s weight, like he’s fucked near everything out of you. And now you need him to feel good, to take whatever he needs from you, whatever you have left to give. 

“Fuck,” he grunts. His hips stall abruptly. He spills into you, deep moans pulling from the back of his throat. You dig your heels into the meat of his ass, dragging him closer, forcing him so deep he paints your cervix.

He pulls out with a hiss, his length softening against your mound as he lifts himself up on his elbows to kiss you. It’s a meager kiss, both of you still too out of breath to deepen it, but it soothes you, along with the soft graze of his thumb over your ribs.

You hold each other for a while, in no rush to move from this moment. You’re pretty sure you drift off more than once, awoken each time by the vibration of his gentle hums against your neck. When you finally do move, it’s not far, just up the bed and under the covers. And then his arms are right back where they were, around you, pulling you tightly to him.

He falls asleep before you, snoring quietly at the crown of your head. You try to wiggle from his grasp, move to the other side of the bed, but even in his sleep, he’s acutely aware of your presence. He just grips you harder, nuzzles his head deeper into your hair. You’ve never felt more content being stuck somewhere.

You slip under again eventually. You’re pretty sure you dream of nothing — no need for your brain to conjure up anything more than what you already have. 

The following morning, you wake up with Joel’s tongue between your legs. He nibbles at your inner thigh, waiting for you to give him the go ahead to continue. And then he makes you cum twice on his mouth before you even eat breakfast. 

He doesn’t let you get up for that, either. He brings you hot coffee in a Texas Longhorns mug and a plate of toast, slathered with butter and grape jelly, and doesn’t complain when you get crumbs on the sheets. 

You’re satiated and caffeinated before you even start your day — which Joel has planned out to a t. 

He brings you to his favorite spot for lunch, a BBQ place by the river, and acts smug when you tell him these are the best ribs I’ve ever had in my life. Then you go home, take a shower — together, of course — and you rinse shampoo out of your hair with his cock nestled comfortably inside you.

He fucks you with your hands braced against the shower wall until you’re screaming, the echoes bouncing off of tile, and then you get back in bed, laze around in your towels until dinnertime. 

Joel orders takeout — sushi for you, lo mein and teriyaki beef for him. You sprawl out on the couch as you eat, your feet in his lap and the calming buzz of the tv on in the background.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a long time.

You easily fall into a routine over the course of the week: wake up, fuck, eat breakfast in bed, fuck, get up around noon, shower, eat lunch, grade papers while Joel cleans up or does yardwork, eat dinner, fuck, go to sleep. 

You almost forget that this isn’t permanent, that you’re going to have to get on a plane and go home soon, that this isn’t your home, here with Joel. That is, until Friday night, over dinner — when Joel abruptly pulls you back down to earth. 

You’re finishing your pasta, spooning the last remnants of sauce into your mouth. Some western flashes across the tv — Joel’s choice, and as you put your bowl down on the coffee table and snuggle up to him, he sighs. 

“This has gotta be the best vacation of my life — or, staycation, I guess.” He says it innocently enough. Still, you feel jolted. Vacation, you repeat in your head until your brain catches up with reality. You feel smothered, suddenly, warm, like your whole body is an ore about to be smelted. You extricate yourself from Joel’s arms and settle on the other side of the couch. 

“Just hot,” you lie. “Sorry.” 

“‘ts alright,” he murmurs, unphased, eyes glued to the tv. 

He doesn’t notice the way you tense, the way your breathing picks up when you excuse yourself to the bathroom. But why should he? There’s no reason for you to be freaking out. 

Except there is.

Because the thought of leaving in a couple days, leaving behind Joel and this routine, not seeing him again for several more months, and even then, only having a weekend, or if you’re lucky, a week with him – it’s making you spiral.

You lock yourself in the bathroom. Close the lid to the toilet. When you sit down, your head falls into your hands, heaving breaths warming the skin of your palms uncomfortably. I can’t do this, you think. I can’t keep doing this.

You love Joel — you do, more than anything. And you can’t begin to imagine living without him. But you also can’t help but wonder, elbows digging into your knees, how this has become your life — all the leaving. 

Something heavy settles in the pit of your stomach. You feel nauseous.

You get up. Splash cold water on your face. Curse your reflection, all sunken eyes and tear-stained cheeks. So stupid. This is why you didn’t want to get into another relationship. The pain, the pain, the unbearable pain.

Why did you have to fall in love with him?

There’s a clanging on the other side of the door — Joel clearing your dishes from dinner — an act of domesticity that plunges the dagger deeper into your bleeding heart.

You wipe your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. Huff at how pathetic you feel.

It’s so stupid, so silly, crying in Joel’s bathroom when he’s right outside, right there waiting for you. Even still, you can’t seem to shake the dread that hangs over you like a storm cloud when you make your way back into the living room with dried eyes, back into his arms.

You hope, silently, that it’ll go away with a good night’s sleep. That this is just a minor breakdown, a hormonal thing, maybe, and you’ll feel better in the morning.

It doesn’t, it’s not — and you don’t.

Joel can tell something is wrong the moment he hands you your morning coffee. You’d slept in today, legs tangled under the sheets, trepidation still clawing its way up your throat. You’d been quiet, had only hummed in response when he’d told you good morning. 

That, he hadn’t noticed. But when he passes you the mug, steam billowing from the mouth, he detects the way you won’t look at him, your mumbled thank you. 

You catch the way he steps back with a dejected hmph, and rounds the bed to climb in next to you.

You feel awful.

The mattress springs creak as he settles, balancing his full mug in one hand, laying the other over yours where it sits on top of the duvet, resting on your covered leg. 

“Y’alright?,” he asks, even though you know he knows the answer. It’s why you don’t lie, shake your head. Your eyes flick up to his as a frown sets under his nose. 

You downplay it. “I’m fine, really. It’s just — I — I’m sad that today’s our last full day. I don’t wanna go home yet.” 

“Don’t have to go,” he drawls, drawing light circles over your skin with his index finger. 

And you know he means it — know he’d let you move in with him in a heartbeat. But you also know you can’t. Can’t leave behind the life you worked so hard to make in Vermont. 

“I wish,” you sigh, taking a cautious sip of your coffee. 

“Well…d’you wanna do somethin’ today? Go into the city? I know we haven’t done much’a anything this week.” He smirks. And just for a moment, the look on his face — that dopey smile and those sweet cinnamon eyes — makes you forget about the darkness fogging your mind. 

“We can do touristy stuff,” he continues. “Do anythin’ you want. To take your mind off things. Make the most of the day, ya know?”

His brows are raised as he anticipates your response. He’s so eager to do whatever it takes for you to be happy, and that makes your chest clench. More than you want to protect your own heart, you want to appease him. He deserves that, at the very least.

So you say yes, let’s do it; show me around Austin.

The cracks in your heart deepen when he nearly jumps out of bed in excitement. 

Joel is a great tour guide, for what it’s worth.

He brings you to his favorite hiking trail in the city. It runs along a lake, the water busy with kayakers and paddle boarders. 

The sky above is overcast. A sliver of sun cuts through the clouds, casting your forehead in a light sheen of sweat as you walk.

Every single passerby waves at you or says hello, all in the same singsong twang. Joel waves back, grunts a greeting. It throws you off, how nice everyone is here. You’ve grown used to New England, with its temperamental weather and even more temperamental people.

“Busy,” you note when another group passes you. 

“Mhm,” Joel hums. Wraps a sweaty arm around you, pulling you into his side. It’s awkward to walk like this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Sarah used to love this place. We’d come all the time when she was little.”

You lean into his embrace. Nuzzle your face into the fabric of his T-shirt.

“I know you must’ve missed her this week. Is this the first spring break she hasn’t been home?”

“Yeah,” Joel’s other hand rests at the back of his neck, fingers absently working at a knot in the muscle there. “Gotta get used to it though, I guess, with her stayin’ north after school is over and all.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” you admit. “When did she decide?”

He sighs so deep you can almost feel it in your own chest. 

“Couple weeks ago,” he says. “Guess she got some unofficial job offer for after she graduates, from this research institute in Boston. She’s all excited about it.”

You know Joel is proud. He’s always proud of Sarah. How could he not be? But you also know his heart is breaking right now, the long-established plans for Sarah to come home to Texas, to come home to him after finishing undergrad, suddenly squashed. 

And then there’s you — leaving too — again.

The thought of hurting Joel is overbearing, more so than the thought of hurting yourself. He doesn’t deserve to be so far away from the woman he’s in a relationship with when his own daughter is already out of reach.

You feel selfish, suddenly. 

It plagues your mind for the rest of the day — when you go to a diner after the hike and split a strawberry milkshake the size of your head with Joel — and still, later, when you wander hand-in-hand into a tacky gift shop. 

You try your best to ignore the ache in your chest as you scan the store.

The back wall is stacked top to bottom with cowboy boots of varying colors and styles. There are cowboy hats too, displayed on a long table.

Joel picks up an oversized straw hat, resting it on the top of his head with a laugh. “Looks ridiculous, right?” 

“Somehow, no,” you say. And it’s the truth. You think he’s the only person who could put that thing on and look hot in it. 

He grabs another hat off of the table, a more traditional one — brown leather with a braided band wrapped around the base of the crown. You let him affix it on your head. He steps back to get a good look at you and nods. 

“Looks good. Looks sexy,” he amends. 

“Yeah?” You dip your head in faux greeting, fingers pressed into the front corner of the brim.

He scans over you then, his eyes darkening. It looks like he’s pondering something, the corner of his mouth curving. 

“What?”

He steps closer. Leans down to whisper in your ear. “Think we should get ‘em. Wear ‘em later.”

Your breath pulls. The thought of Joel wearing that and nothing but that underneath you is enough to make you forget your quandaries, temporarily.

“Yeah,” you respond way too quickly. “Let’s get them, Cowboy.”

You watch his entire body tense at the nickname. And then he’s yanking the hat off of you, bringing both to the register in a hurry. 

The house is dark when you get home, bag of Greek takeout in hand.

Joel flicks a light on in the entrance. You squint reflexively, your eyes adjusting as you set the food down on the coffee table in the living room. Joel brings your new hats upstairs, then joins you on the couch. You pull out two styrofoam containers, passing the one with Joel’s name scribbled on it to him and leaning back with yours in your lap. 

“‘m starvin,” he mumbles as he cracks his open, squeezes a wedge of lemon over his rice. 

You eat quickly, something else clearly on both of your minds as you shovel falafel into your mouths. You even forget to turn the tv on. 

When you’re done, you insist you’ll clean up, bringing the trash into the kitchen as Joel disappears upstairs. Once everything is tidied, you re-situate yourself on the couch.

He returns a few minutes later — shirtless, that ridiculous cowboy hat fastened on his head, dark jeans sitting low on his hips. He’s holding your hat in his left hand.

There’s a dull throbbing between your legs. He starts across the room, toward you.

“Joel-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, bracketing you against the cushions, his hat bumping into your head. He pulls it off immediately, like if it’s going to interfere in any way, it’s not worth it. It falls onto the floor somewhere behind him.

Joel pulls at the fabric of your shirt. Your back arches, allowing him to pull it up and off before tossing it aside. His mouth moves from yours, trailing lower, lower, and settling at the column of your throat. He sucks a bruise there, the contact sending your hips bucking off the couch, the need for him to touch you already borderline painful.

And then that voice returns, the one that’s been screaming in your head since last night.

This’ll be the last time for a while. Maybe forever. Last time he touches you like this, kisses you like this. Don’t think about it — don’t. Just enjoy it. Just-

“Joel,” you pant. He stops immediately. Pulls back. 

“What? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Tears well in your eyes, blur your vision. You can barely make out the look of concern plastered across Joel’s face as he kneels down in front of you and grips both of your shoulders. 

When you speak, your voice comes out shaky. “No, it’s not — I just.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“What? What is it darlin’?,” he tries, massaging tense muscle under his palms. 

You hadn’t wanted him to see you like this. You feel embarrassed that he has to comfort you like you’re a child who’s just had a nightmare, and not a grown woman with a PhD. You groan. Catch your breath. 

“Fuck. I’m fine,” you try. Joel clearly isn’t buying it. He quirks a brow at you. 

“C’mon baby, talk to me. I wanna help, whatever it is. Let me in — please” 

And you want to, you do, it’s just — you don’t know how to even explain how you’re feeling. 

“This is all so hard,” you start. Joel nods. He wants you to continue. “This whole — situation,” you try. “Being long-distance. It’s just — being here for a whole week and waking up together every morning, having coffee, watching tv at night, like a — fuck — like a real couple — and now I have to go back to normal?”

His face falls.

“Real couple? Is this not real to you?” 

“It is real,” you sob. “It’s too real. That’s why it hurts so fucking much. I just, I can’t —”

“Can’t what?” His voice is quiet. Low.

“Can’t do this. Can’t handle the pain. And it must be hurting you too, Joel. Between me and Sarah—”

“I’m fine,” he barks, suddenly jumping to his feet. He takes a deep breath. “This isn’t about Sarah. This is about us. Do you not want this? Me?” 

Your hands tremble in your lap. “Of course I want you, Joel,” you sniff. “I want you more than anything. But-”

“But not like this. This is too hard.”

You nod weakly. 

He sighs.

“You know you can move here — stay with me.”

You do know. He’s said it so many times before. But you’ve worked way too hard to pack up and start over, to give up your professorship after only three years with the blind hope that you’ll land a new position in Austin. And now you’re mad — infuriated, almost, that he keeps suggesting it.

You scoff. “You know I can’t just give up my life, Joel.” 

“So what, you’re just gonna give up on us, instead?” His voice is strained. 

“I’m not giving up,” you clip, defensively.

“Certainly doesn’t sound like you’re tryin’.”

He stares at the ceiling. You watch as his eyes mist, his concentration palpable as he wills the tears not to fall. Your anger dissipates into guilt. 

This is exactly what you’d feared — breaking his heart. It’s like you can see it fracturing, chipping at the edges. 

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “I don’t — I don’t know. I just can’t.”

His face contorts. A single tear slips down his cheek, which he wipes away quickly with the back of his hand. “Fuck,” he curses.

You stand from the couch, begin to move cautiously toward him. “Joel, I-”

“Don’t,” he snaps. Throws his hands up defensively. And then he’s turning, heading up the stairs, leaving you standing there in the middle of the living room with a ringing in your ears.

When you climb into bed twenty minutes later, he doesn’t acknowledge you.

You fly home the next day. Joel doesn’t say anything on the drive to the airport. 

Once there, he pulls over to the curb at the drop-off and puts the car in park. You’re not sure what to do — should you kiss him? Tell him you love him? Because you do, so fucking much. You’re just — not sure if he wants to hear that right now. 

He makes the decision for you, cradling your face as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. He lets his forehead fall to yours with a sigh, and then he pulls back. 

He doesn’t open your door for you, though. Doesn’t grab your bags from the back when you clamber down from the passenger seat. 

It’s as if he’s saying: I love you, but I’m going to give you space.

You pry open the back door. Pull out your suitcase and rest your new cowboy hat over the handle. You almost wish now that he hadn’t gotten it for you. It’ll just serve as another reminder of everything you’ve left behind once your home. 

“Text me,” he offers once your things are all gathered on the curb. “Let me know when you board, when you’re home safe.”

“Yeah,” you nod. Search his eyes for something. Some indicator that he’s okay. But he’s stoic, his lips set in a straight line. “I will. Promise.”

His mouth opens, like he wants to add something else. But whatever he’s thinking, he decides against saying out loud. Instead he just tells you safe travels, and then he’s pulling the passenger side door closed from the inside.

You stand unmoving. As his truck disappears down the roadway and out of view, a list of all the things you should’ve said rolls through your brain like the end credits of a film.

You send Joel a message when you get home. Let him know you got in safe. You don’t call, like you normally would, because that’s not what he’d asked of you.

Then you climb straight into bed, still in your clothes, and let the tears consume you. You wallow in them for what feels like hours, the natural light in your bedroom gradually sinking into the floorboards. You welcome the nightfall, the way the darkness soothes the pounding in your head, the way it feels like nothing. 

Morning comes before Joel responds. You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, the time on your phone reading 11:09, and the notification from him just below it nearly jolts you: 

Okay. Thanks. 

No love you, no miss you. 

You curse under your breath. 

Why did you have to say anything? Why did you have to ruin this?

The pain of possibly losing Joel for good makes the pain of long distance feel like a papercut. All you want is to go back in time, take back everything you said, tell Joel you love him a million-and-one times. Anything to undo this.

You fleetingly consider quitting your job, handing in your resignation letter the second you get to campus tomorrow. You’ll take your unpacked suitcase and head right back to the airport.

You don’t let the temptation win. But it lingers, sits at the top of your chest like a threat. Like if he asks one more time — you’ll do it.

He doesn’t, though. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything — which you should’ve expected — but it still stings. You hadn’t broken up, not technically, so you’re stuck in this weird limbo, one in which neither of you wants to talk about what happened in Austin.

Instead, you text each other once a day or so — weird, surface-level messages, ones you’d send to an acquaintance, not someone who literally knows you inside and out.

Finally above 60°, you say, on Monday morning, attached to a screenshot of your weather app. 

Your walk to campus must’ve been nice today, he replies.

And the next day:

Guy at the job site today was talking about that show you like. 

Parks & Rec?!

Yeah, that one.

It’s barely enough to keep you going, to keep you sane. You feel pitiful, looking forward to Joel’s text-of-the-day like it’s a re-up of your drug of choice. Better than heroin, you tell yourself.

Two weeks pass with no phone calls and minimal messages. It’s 5:45 pm on a rainy Tuesday when you sit at your dining room table with a pile of papers to grade in front of you, some low-fi playlist on in the background, unable to focus.

Because Joel hasn’t texted you all day.

Usually he’d send something by now. And it’s not like you hadn’t texted him — in fact, you’d double-texted, one message sent this morning about how you burned your tongue on your coffee, and another after your final class of the day when you’d seen he still hadn’t responded:

Busy day? 

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, the gears in your mind whirring as you debate whether or not to send the words punctuated by a flickering cursor on your screen:

Can I call you later?

He’ll probably say no. Or worse, continue to ignore you. Maybe this is it — maybe weeks of dancing around residual tension have driven him to call it quits. He’ll block you, and then you’ll never hear from him again. 

The thought has bile rising up your throat.

You close out of the app and put your phone down before stalking over to the living room, letting yourself fall stomach-first onto the couch. You stuff your face into a throw pillow and scream.

You almost don’t hear it over your muffled yells — the rapping at your front door. 

You still, lifting your head from the pillow. Listening intently. It comes again — rapraprap.

Ugh, you groan, lifting yourself onto your elbows, then your feet. You pull your cardigan tighter over your front. Drag your feet across the hardwood to the entranceway, wondering who the fuck could be at your door on a Tuesday evening, unannounced. 

Is it the property manager?, you speculate as you reach the door. Was there an issue with my rent?

Your fingers wind around the handle apprehensively. You peer through the peephole and your heart plummets into your stomach.

Because Joel is standing right outside your apartment.

You wonder if you’re seeing things. If you’ve gone full-on hysterical. But it’s him, it’s unmistakably him — in his favorite flannel and his workwear jacket, which is smattered in rain spots. His gaze is trained on the floor by his feet and his hands are fidgeting at his sides — just like the first time you met him.

You throw the door open. Joel’s eyes shoot up. For a long moment, you just stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something — do something. 

When your breath pulls, he rushes forward and crashes his lips into yours. He backs you into your apartment, letting the door slam shut behind you. 

You barely hear it, still registering that Joel is here, he’s here and he’s kissing the hell out of you. And just minutes ago, you’d been sulking on your couch, convinced it was over between you two. 

You feel dizzy. You pull back, only because you fear if you don’t, you’ll literally topple over. Joel’s breathing is heavy — it matches yours.

“What are you — fuck — what are you doing here, Joel?”

“I need to talk to you,” he pants. 

“Could’ve called,” you say, as if there’s any universe in which you’d prefer that. 

You lead him to the living room. Fall back onto the couch. He sits down next to you, taking both of your hands in his. You get a good look at him for the first time since he’d barreled into your apartment, and he looks wrecked.

“Are you okay?,” you ask. 

His response isn’t much of an answer. “’m selling my house.”

Your head spins. “You — what?” 

“Listed it last week,” he says. “Already got a couple offers.” 

“Oh,” you blink. “Okay.”

“‘m gonna move up here.”

Oh. 

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of your chest. You’re — speechless.

“I put an offer on a place,” he continues. “‘ts a ranch with some land. Room for sheep. I’m sellin’ my half of the business to Tommy. Leavin’ Texas.”

He exhales. His eyes search yours with tangible desperation. “Say somethin’.”

“I — fuck, Joel,” you breathe. “You’re — when? How?”

“Found the place a couple days ago. ‘ts about thirty minutes Southeast of here. Just went and saw it in person. Sent my offer letter before I came here.”

“Right,” you nod. “But Joel, you can’t just leave-”

“Sure I can,” he interrupts. “Nothin’ there for me anymore. Not Sarah, not you.”

A beat passes. And then he adds:

“I can’t lose you.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you imagine Joel this past week, making all of these plans to rectify the distance between you, to be sure he doesn’t lose you. And still — you’re not sure if you deserve it after the way you hurt him.

“You — you still want me, even after what I said?” 

“Darlin’,” he says, in that honey-sweet drawl. “I love you. There’s nothin’ you could do to make me not want you. You were right. This isn’t feasible. We can’t do this forever.”

“Joel,” you sigh, “I just — you’re sure you want this?”

“I want you,” he says plainly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world — like nothing else matters. “And you need to be here. So it’s a no-brainer”

The rain picks up outside. It patters against the windows.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he says. “I’ll retract my offer. Go back to Texas.”

“I do Joel — want you here more than anything, love you more than anything. But-”

“Good.” He cups your face in his hands. You stare into his eyes, your future.

“It’s settled, then,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt. “I’m movin’ to Vermont.”

“This is crazy,” you laugh. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you more,” he beams. “No gettin’ rid of me now.”

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Cowboy.” 

end notes: ty again for reading! pls consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you liked it <3

tagging everyone who expressed interest in reading a part 2 (lmk if you don't want to be included going forward): @anoverwhelmingdin, @joelalorian, @lol-im-done, @bensonispunk, @sereindreams, @survivingandenduring, @stevie75, @vee-bees-blog, @brittmb115, @casssiopeia, @bbyanarchist, @janaispunk, @barbellpedro

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

ME AND THE DEVIL

Pairing.| Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary.| Years ago, you sold your soul to the Peaky Blinder Devil. However, your loyalties never truly lied with Thomas Shelby. Though, the Devil had his ears in every wall, and seemed he had to readdress your contract.

Warnings.| Dubcon, fighting, dark themes, manipulation, attempted murder.

Word count.| 2.3k

Notes.| A small series I’ve been wanting to write for Tommy. But idk how I feel about it so I'll only continue it if people (you) want it. Between season 2 and 3 Tommy. Also inspired by the song clearly.

The Devil had been haunting you, his claws were buried into your back. His presence had been bedeviling you for years by this point. But he was crawling on his vicious paws in your direction now, he was ready to bring you home. You knew he was inevitable, for he always got what he wanted and there was nothing that he craved more than you. He demanded your soul to return to his depths of Hell which was known as the dirt streets of Small Heath. 

It had been months since you had escaped him. No matter how badly you wanted to sail away, disappear into the mountains of America, he had all ports guarded with his men in peaked caps. It was only a matter of time until he found you again, there was no corner of this world that he wouldn’t walk for you. 

Firstly, he appeared in your dreams, or as you deemed as nightmares. The first time he stood still in the distance, half hidden behind a tree as he watched you as if you were meat on a golden platter. The next, he was striding towards you, you were running as quickly as you could but he was somehow catching up on you faster than humanly possible. His figure enlarged every step he took, you were screaming, crying for help but all bystanders had their backs turned towards you. 

In what would be considered the night terrors of his tormenting dreams, he was dragging you back across the gravel floor, his nails dug into the cold shivering skin of your calves. There was nothing for you to grip onto, everytime you looked back, his glowing blue eyes burnt into your soul. The nightmares would always end with you disappearing into the dark depths of a frightening forest. 

The next sign that he so graciously sent your way was a blank letter, with only his initials signed on the thin paper. You threw it into the fire pit immediately, out of sight, out of mind. As if you had enough ignorance for that. But another letter came the next day, then the day after, and again. After a week of taunting, the letter had a message for you. 

You can run, but you can’t hide.

Be ready for my arrival my love, 

I wish to bring you home. 

T.S.

You’d heavily considered running again, but you knew he would be on your tail. It was clear that you only got as far as you did because he allowed it. He was your shadow, he’d be able to move you like a puppet on strings if he really desired it. Logically, you should be grateful for the freedom he had gracefully given you. But then you remember everything he’d done to you, the suffering you’d gone through because of him, what you’ve lost from his obsession over you. You’d never be free as long as he still breathed. 

Your only slim chance of relief was to kill him. Like you’d make it far after that anyways, his demons would come charging after you. But you’d still be free, at least in this life no matter how short it would be. There was no escaping your doom, it’d end in tragedy one way or another. But the idea of watching the life drain from his hypnotic blue eyes made you smile. 

The next day, you saw him in the town, his eyes unviewable by the way his cap was positioned. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, no more is needed to be said. 

He followed you throughout the day, to torment you. Sometimes he was only a few steps behind you, teasing you on whether or not he’d take you in front of innocent bystanders. You wondered if people would intervene, or if they knew the Peaky Devil was unstoppable. 

That night, you’d awoken at 3am, there was a slow, heavy knock on your door. Time slowed down, you felt your heartbeat pound in your chest, ears turned thick and mind went dizzy. Momentarily, you laid silently in the darkness, then the knock vibrated on the wood again. Courageously, you got out of bed and stepped towards the door, not forgetting to grab the pistol on the way out. 

His presence was loud, you could feel his aura linger in through the cracks. You bent your arm back behind your back, the heavy metal pressed against the thin fabric of your dress. The light flicked on as the door creaked open, you swiftly leant against the frame to hide your weapon.  

There he stood, in all of his glory. Yet again, his eyes shadowed over from his peaked cap, a cigarette in between his lips as he stood perfectly still. His hands clasped behind his back underneath his leather gloves, the gentle rain seemed to pick up, small gusts of wind traveled into your cottage. 

“Hello Thomas” you greeted, voice completely monotone.

You avoided eye contact, he always seemed to know what was on your mind if you allowed him to look you in the eye. He looked down upon your appearance, you’d managed to have lost a fair bit of weight in these couple of months apart. With a heavy huff, Tommy pushed his sleeve up enough to show his watch, he read the time.  

“My love, I believe it’s time to go” his cold, dark voice rasped out. 

When he looked back up to you, his eyes finally came into clear sight. Oh, how they could still do wonders on you, it was the softest part of him. He would always be disgustingly beautiful, it’d give you butterflies in your stomach, put your beliefs into a thunderstorm. You blinked hard and snorted at his demand.

“I’m not going anywhere” you stubbornly shot back. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. But Tommy expected nothing less than that. His stern expression finally cracked, Tommy’s lips curled into a wicked grin as he brought his hands to his front, his fingers folded over one another precisely. 

“Is that so darling?” Tommy challenged as he took a step closer to you, his head tilted forward. 

The grin on your lips was far too cocky as you pointed the pistol at him. Tommy felt a fire of excitement pump through his blood as you closed the distance and roughly pressed the cold barrel to his forehead. 

“You’ll leave me alone Tommy” you stated sternly. 

“You do not make the rules” Tommy smirked at your claim. 

“I’ll fucking kill you before you take me back there” you threatened, no, promised. 

“Do it then my love, free me of your torment” Tommy begged sarcastically, his tone dripping of mock. He held the barrel to his skull as he closed his eyes. You shuddered, fear washed over your skin as you seemed to second guess your actions. “Do it!” he roared, his command forced you to pull the trigger. 

Click. 

You blinked, your mind froze with your body as Tommy continued standing upright. He smirked sinisterly at you as he ripped the pistol from your weak hold and slammed it to the floor. You stumbled back, Tommy was quickly to stride after you as you fumbled into the kitchen.

“You were never one to fire a gun” Tommy snarled as he chased after you in the darkness, the moonlight wasn’t enough for you to swiftly move.

You panted out as he pounced at you, his arms wrapped around your waist, you thrashed around back he was quick to bend your arms behind your back. 

“Fuck you Tommy!” you barked. 

“Did you think I hadn’t paid your humble cottage a visit?” Tommy pouted to you as he pushed your front over the bench.

You gasped out as his crotch molded itself into your rear. He tutted at you as your body stilled, subconsciously your body demanded to create no friction against him, but physically your thighs squeezed together as Tommy kept your hips connected. Gradually, his erection grew against you as you both breathed heavily, Tommy rubbed the sides of your faces together as he looked out the window. 

“I missed you, my love” he whispered, his nose nuzzled against you like a cat. 

There was no response from you, you bit down your anger as you stared out, trying to shift your mind to another other thought. His arm snaked over your collarbones to pull your body up straight, you hissed in pain and struggled a little against him. 

“You’ll beg me for forgiveness” Tommy demanded, his tone awfully cool considering his conflicting emotions for you. 

“You’ll have to kill me before that” you snarled, latching onto every last drop of your dignity. Tommy gripped onto your jaw and forced you to snap your neck back to him.

“Do not be stubborn, my love. You betrayed me, you hurt me” Tommy spoke softly, a hint of despair in his tone. 

“Hurt you?” you scoffed as you shoved his hold off of you. “You broke me!” you screamed as you jabbed your fingers against his chest. 

Tommy’s demeanor was frustratingly calm. He sighed at you as if you were a child having a tantrum. It only fueled your anger, you tried to shove him again but he caught onto your wrists. 

“I’ve only ever done anything for your best intentions” he assured quietly. 

That was the last straw. Your wrist slipped out of his softening hold as your arm swung in a swift movement. Right when you should have landed onto him, he caught your fist and pushed you lower back into the counter, you grunted at the contact as his hand bent your wrist back. 

“Say that to Fraser!” you spat on his lower lip. 

Tommy’s hand slipped to your throat. The airway closed off to your lungs as his hold tightened, you wheezed out, legs dangled as his strength lifted you up against the counter. 

“Bring up that traitor's name again and see what happens!” Tommy threatened, his anger unleashed, blue eyes beamed straight through your body.

Your nails clawed at his hand, but Tommy seemed to be unphased by the pain. When your hands fell back to your sides, blood drained from your face, Tommy abruptly let go of your throat. You fell straight to your knees, landing harshly onto your kneecaps. With your head pressed against his thigh from support, Tommy sighed. 

“Now… Beg me for forgiveness” Tommy ordered as he tilted your head up to look for him. 

“I’d rather die” you panted, as you still struggled to catch your breath. 

Tommy chuckled at your determination. His cold hands slipped into your hair as he pulled your face an inch away from his throbbing crotch. 

“Beg me for it, unless you want to beg me for something else” he implied, a wicked grin on his lips. Your eyes darted at his bulge. 

“Don’t” you warned through heavy breaths. 

“Maybe I’ll just fill you with my child now… So I’ll never have to worry about you being able to run from me again, would be awfully hard with a massive belly, eh?” Tommy taunted as he pulled your face onto his hard on.

You squirmed against him, palms pressed against his thighs. Tommy breathed out in relief as he rocked his hips against you. With a quick pull, he forcefully craned your neck back and forced you to look up at him. A rough cry flew into the air as he tugged harshly at your roots. 

“Beg me, my love” he whispered kindly. 

You blinked away the pools of tears in your eyes. As your jaw wobbled, you forced yourself to let go of your dignity. For you knew his methods of torture wouldn’t be worth your ego at the end of the day. Because he’d never set you free. Tommy smiled down to you, mocking your pride in its surrender. 

“I’m sorry Tommy” you whimpered. Tommy hummed back with a nod, gesturing for you to go on. “Please forgive me, I never meant for any of this to happen” you pleaded, your voice trembling. 

It was true, it was never your plan for anyone to get hurt, some worse than others. But the forced apology tasted like tar on your tongue. Tommy’s dark eyes were wide as he slowly blinked to you, his toothy grin stayed as he rolled his thumb over your lower lip. 

It was always in moments like these that you felt lost without him. A throbbing idea that you really need to owe your life to him, he saved you after all. In the situations where it mattered most, your body betrayed you. Subconsciously you’d submit to him, and you hated him for it. 

His thumb slipped into your mouth, your tongue suckled his digit like a piece of candy. Then, his thumb rolled over your plump lips. It was clear that you needed icing on this cake to end this humiliating agony. For he was toying with you like you were a dirty whore. 

“I’ll never betray you again” you assured, sobbing as your cheeks turned beet red. 

“You'll listen to me from now on, eh?” Tommy teased as he patted your cheek. 

“Mhm” you hummed, frantically nodding your head. 

Tommy pulled you up to your feet, his hand held your jaw as he brushed his lips over yours. They only grazed over each other as his free hand dug into his pocket. He forced your left hand up, you winced as he roughly pushed the cold metal down your wedding finger. 

You impulsively turned your figure away from him as you tried to look at the ring in the moonlight. When Tommy flicked on the light, he stalked over to you. A massive white diamond was embedded on a silver band. Tommy’s arms snaked around your back, over your waist as he rested her head in the crook of your neck. Even though you really shouldn’t be, you stood completely shocked. A wife to be. 

“Let’s go home” he whispered as he guided you to the door. 

Even though he always told you that you were his, you finally realized that you were now.

[chobani-flip]

rec list of awesome bucktommy fics #1 of ∞

ok. so here's some fics ive read that i loved and i need everyone to read and love as well. more such lists to follow over the summer

Like a Music That's Been Transposed by @faillen

“Hey there, stunner,” Tommy murmured against his mouth once they’d pulled away. “Stunner?” Evan asked, smile bunching up his cheeks. “That’s a new one.” “Mhmm,” Tommy said, pressing a kiss to one of those lovely red cheeks. “You like it?” Evan ducked his head, “Yeah, that one’s uh. That’s pretty good.” His eyes cut back to Tommy and his mouth twisted into a thoughtful moue. “I don’t really have any for you.” “Eh,” Tommy said. “I’m not a big endearment guy.”

Or: Tommy grows into his name.

it is so good, you guys. such an excellent tommy character study.

The Machinery of the Body by @firehose118

Tommy takes one look at the wonderstruck expression on Evan's face after Tommy kisses him that first time and he knows he wants to take Evan apart under his hands like an engine and make him purr. He wants to slowly and carefully clean every rusty bolt Evan never knew he had and put him back together better than he found him.

it is horny and tender. they just care about one another so much 😭😭😭

the skin that binds you by @tiltingheartand

He must make a noise of some kind, because a second later he feels a hand very carefully combing through his curls. Too carefully, actually, although it does feel kind of amazing anyway. “Feeling okay, baby?” Well, good news: at least hearing Tommy’s voice doesn’t make anything worse. “Not really,” he manages, once he unsticks his lips from each other, refusing to move from where he’s got half his face pressed into Tommy’s neck. “Feel like death.” “That’s not as funny as you think it is,” Tommy says, but he’s hugging Buck around the shoulders while he says it. (Buck wakes up with a migraine. Tommy takes care of him.)

they are so good for each other and to each other 😭😭😭

Couched In Metaphor by @alchemistc

BUCK AND TOMMY GO COUCH SHOPPING! THERE'S ALSO EDDIE AND HE IS A GOOD FRIEND! the couch is a metaphor but it's also just a couch and buck and tommy are written so excellently here. i ADORE the way this author sees them and writes them

Your Midnights by Summerunderthesea

He still hadn’t been able to find his footing with Tommy. To find his cool, or to even be able to fake it so that he at least came across as somewhat smooth. At least a bit less of an idiot. So idiodic, non-cool, non-smooth Buck replied with an ‘uhh’. Then, eventually, ‘Yeah. A bit.’ --- A collection of midnights that Buck and Tommy spend together.

a progression of buck and tommy's relationship. so niiiiice.

while you arranged flowers by @newtkelly

Tommy’s eyes catch his and Buck is taken aback by the state of them, blown so black and glassy. He always looks so tongue-in-cheek, like he’s in on some joke and waiting for everyone else to catch on. He doesn’t look like that right now, though. Tommy’s composure is waning—the guy who takes on the world with a million dollar smile and a statuesque cleft chin and flies choppers to Vegas on a whim and into Cat 5 hurricanes to help old friends and kisses clarity into men who thought they were finished figuring themselves out, that guy is just as much a slave to his desire as any mortal man, and Buck is winded by the fact that he’s played any part in that. — Buck’s got a wedding date, but as far as today goes, he’s also got a regular one.

you might have seen the post where i shrieked about another fic of newtkelly, well read this one too. the way they write is so thoughtful and skilled???? shoo, go read!

little by little by @mediawhorefics

a madney wedding coda. it is brilliant. it is beautiful. AND ALSO, the author has an excellent taste in user names. GO READ MEDIA WHORE'S FICS! i shout in the marketplace and i am well heard by all.

Come Fly The Friendly Skies by @rcmclachlan

have you tried to imagine how the initial introductions between buck and tommy during the choppernapping went? no? yes? well, i guarantee you that this brilliant HILARIOUS piece of writing is going to surpass your greatest expectations.

allow me to quote one of my favourite lines at you: "We know you have many options when choosing airlines, so thank you for choosing Kinard Air. Let's begin the boarding process."

yeah, i know if tommy was any cooler of a cucumber that salad would be frozen! isn't it wonderful?!

im also gonna need you to read

@middyblue 's AU where buck works as a Scientist alongside karen and meets tommy when the lab blows up.

THIS IS THE SERIES HERE!!!! THERE ARE TWO FICS (SO FAR) WHOLE TWO FICS!!!!!!! AND IT IS BRILLIANT AND I LOVE IT!!!

Buck's clipboardy-ness is directed towards science! tommy is absolutely turnouts over helmet into him!!!!

ALSO! ALSO!

these are the fics that i keep seeing on rec lists (but that's because they're really fucking good and if you haven't read them yet, do yourself the favour of getting right on that.)

my heart's an autoclave. by @bucktheally

an outlier that should not be counted by @dadvans

prescribed burn by @wakeupnew

you know what actually? all of the authors above? (and any others i mention in the future?) go do the following:

click on subscribe ON THE AUTHOR'S PROFILE

[bidisasterevankinard]

Fuck it Friday x 2 times

I said fuck it and started 2 wips in one day

Meet basketball start Tommy au

Btw huge thanks to @hippolotamus who helped with Tommy's statement 💙

And meet teacher of Tommy's nephew Buck. Justin is mastermind and real ally to his uncle and favorite teacher

Justin’s favorite person always was his uncle Tommy. The man always made him laugh, spoiled him rotten and never made him feel bad about his bad marks, long rants or constant fidgeting. The man was always a warm and safe place Justin knew he could come to when he had some moments with his parents or just wanted to spend time with the coolest person he knew. But Justin also always hated how lonely his uncle was and the older he grew the more he could see how not ok with it his uncle actually was, no matter how he played opposite in front of his sister.

Justin knows part of the deep loneliness his uncle feels is because of how long he was in closet, not letting himself be real him, to love who he actually wanted and then some man he dated wasn’t best so Justin long ago wanted to help his uncle, but never could met a man he would consider worthy of his cool uncle, but also who was definitely into men. Till he met his new science teacher Mr. Buckley. 

The man conquered Justin with his huge smile, warm eyes and desire to know and help his students and create the environment, where they all can feel happy and respected. Mr. Buckley wanted them all to have a chance to learn at the maximum level of their capabilities and encouraged them not to study for the sake of grades but for the sake of interest in science and study itself. 

He also was the first teacher in all 10 years Justin spent in school who didn’t make any comments about his fidgeting and bad homework, but told him to stay after the lesson week after and asked if he ever was tested for ADHD, and offered Justin to talk to his parents. And that’s how Justin finally found out why he always felt different from others. It’s because he is different. But it’s not a bad thing. 

After that Justin knew he needed this man as his another cool uncle and Mr. Buckey’s ig showed he was definitely into men.

So Justin started working.

I was tagged by @tizniz 💙

NP tagging @queerdiaz @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @evnnkinard @evansboyfriend @evanbi-ckley @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @repressedqueen @rogerzsteven @pirrusstuff @aspecbuddie @saybiwithme @shortsighted-owl @steadfastsaturnsrings @fortheloveofbuddie @devirnis @diazsdimples @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie-im-bi @hippolotamus @loveyouanyway @loserdiaz @cal-daisies-and-briars @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @bi-buckrights @bewilderedbuckley @neverevan @monsterrae1 and anyone who wants too

[darkshelbyfiction]

Personal Whore (Kink Series)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader

Summary: This Series will explore different fetishes including an innocence kink, somnophilia, anal play, watersports, bdsm, marking, edging, and anything else you would like me to include!

In this series, you are Thomas Shelby's maid. You are innocent and shy. This is your first job. Thomas Shelby takes an interest in you and pays you to become his personal whore. He makes you have sex with him in exchange of money, every day, using perverse techniques to satisfy his needs.

PART ONE: ORAL SKILLS

"You have been working for me for two weeks now Love and you recently turned 18, right?" Thomas questioned and you nodded timidly, nervous about what might come next.

"I... yes sir," you whispered softly, averting your gaze slightly out of shyness. The room seemed impossibly large and dimly lit, accented only by the flickering candlelight reflecting off the pristine white sheets upon the bed.

"Very well, that means that you are of legal age for my proposition." His voice dripped honeyed promises.

"Now let me ask you, Love... Do you know what some of the other maids here do for me in order to earn some more money?" your employer asked quietly, watching you closely.

"They perform various tasks, sir," you answered hesitantly, trying not to imagine where he could be going with this conversation.

"That's right," he said before looking at you with even more intensity in his gaze. "And do you know what these tasks entail?"

He asked, leaning closer, his proximity sending waves of anxiety through your body.

"Well," you began cautiously, choosing your words carefully. "Sarah said that, occasionally, she would touch you down there," you blushed, feeling mortified at having revealed such intimate information, albeit indirectly. You noticed a flash of excitement in his eyes when mentioning sensitive areas—a sign that perhaps this wasn't all just talk?

Thomas nodded thoughtfully, his expression unreadable as he processed your response. Then he rose gracefully from his seat, moving deliberately toward you like a predator closing in on its prey. It felt odd being so close to someone with whom you had worked for almost two months without any physical contact beyond casual banter.

"She occasionally touches me, yes," replied Thomas, maintaining eye contact. "But it isn't always required – merely desired. So I wonder, my dear, how far would you go for some extra compensation?" He smirked subtly, inviting himself deeper into the territory where you were reluctant to venture.

The heat of the moment caused you to feel flustered and uncertain as you attempted to gauge the severity of Thomas' intentions. Your heart raced faster than ever before, threatening to escape your chest as sweat glistened lightly along your brow.

"You want me to touch your pe..., uhm, you know...down there..." your voice trailed off, unable to find the courage to say the word 'penis'. Thomas smiled reassuringly, appreciating your discomfort as he realized you hadn't quite grasped the extent of his proposal.

"Yes, sweetheart. I want you to touch my cock and, maybe, one day, you will even take it in to your mouth or let me put it into your pussy, eh," Thomas stated confidently while running his hand across your cheek, causing involuntary shivers to run up your spine.

Your face colored deeply with embarrassment, though it also held an undeniable hint of curiosity. While your desire to please and satisfy your newfound benefactor burned intensely, something inside you screamed that taking things further than simple caresses went too far - yet another layer of turmoil added to the complex relationship unfolding between you both.

Having sensed your inner conflict, Thomas chose to approach the subject tactically.

Slowly, tenderly brushing aside a lock of your hair, he asked: "How does that make you feel, sweetheart?" His tone betrayed no judgement or impatience, instead offering understanding and acceptance. "Do you think you can handle that sort of responsibility?"

You trembled underneath his gentle ministrations, torn between fear and arousal, struggling to process your rapidly evolving feelings towards your once strictly professional superior.

"I never even seen a man's private parts before, sir. I was saving myself for marriage, but some extra cash would sound nice too," Your statement came out as a quiet plea for guidance, a confession of ignorance that exposed your vulnerability.

"Well, for what it's worth, no one would ever find out, Love. Not even your future husband," Thomas said and there was a sinister edge to his tone.

"I know that you are a good catholic girl, but sometimes it is worth doing bad things for the right incentive, wouldn't you agree?" Thomas said before he decided to lay bare his plans for you. "So, listen very carefully. If you agree to carry out these tasks, then I promise you that I will give you double your usual wages for the duration of your employment. In addition, I will give you £500 for your virginity and loyalty. How does that strike you?"

Stunned and bewildered, you stared at him in disbelief. Double your pay for doing things you didn't understand fully and parting ways with your cherished purity – your whole world suddenly seemed to spin wildly out of control. Yet despite the magnitude of the choices facing you, one thing remained clear: continuing as your present self would lead to financial ruin.

With tears swelling in your eyes, you found yourself considering Thomas' offer, wondering whether surrendering everything you believed in truly amounted to nothing less than selling your soul. Still, it was difficult to resist the lure of instant prosperity, particularly given the dire straits you faced otherwise. As you struggled internally, Thomas watched patiently, waiting for you to decide. Finally, with a heavy heart, you made your decision.

Nodding solemnly, you declared, "Alright, Mr. Shelby, I agree, but I need you to triple my wages and add another £500 for my virtue."

With an approving smile curling at the corner of his lips, Thomas conceded, "Agreed. I will triple your wages and pay you a lump sum of £1,000 for your precious purity," your employer said before unbuckling his belt without bothering to remove the rest of his clothes.

"Understandably, you may need time to become comfortable enough to execute these duties adequately, so I shall start you off slowly," Thomas explained calmly before unzipping his pants and thereby exposing his erect member. Despite your reservations, you couldn't help but notice the size and firmness of his cock as he pushed down his pants halfway. 

"It doesn't look so scary, does it, Love?" he murmured, his voice holding an undercurrent of amusement, attempting to ease your apprehension as he reached for your hand, guiding it tentatively towards his penis. With an anxious breath, you followed his instruction, marveling at the weightiness of his organ, still unsure of exactly what he expected from you.

As your fingers traced delicate patterns over his length, you discovered small nubs on the underside, eliciting a deep groan from him. Uncertain about your progress thus far, you glanced upwards briefly to catch sight of his reaction, finding satisfaction etched upon his features.

"See, Love, we're making headway already," Thomas commented gently, encouraging you with warmth.

Despite your lingering apprehensions, the confidence exuded by your master proved infectious, allowing you to relax somewhat and follow the path laid out before you.

Inch by inch, your exploration continued until you encountered the tiny knobbiness located near the base of his organ. Upon stimulating it, Thomas' moans grew louder, confirming your suspicion that you had struck gold.

Encouraged by this success, you bravely moved onto his sacrum, discovering that a soft ticklish patch accompanied it. Smiling sheepishly, you proceeded to explore the area thoroughly. After satisfying yourself with a leisurely tour, you finally turned your attention back to the main event – his impressively throbbing phallus.

Feeling emboldened, you took hold of the tip, applying a slight pressure that resulted in a low grumble emitting from Thomas.

Taking hold of your hand again, he positioned it correctly, demonstrating proper technique. Encouraged by his expertise, you mirrored his movements and gradually increased the strength of your strokes, matching his fervent pace.

"That's it, love! Keep going!" he urged, his hands now wrapped tightly around yours before making a somewhat unusual request.

"How do you feel about taking my cock into your mouth, Love?" Thomas whispered huskily, watching your every move closely.

"You want me to do what?" you asked, still feeling uneasy about performing such acts. The mere idea sent waves of nervousness coursing through your body, prompting your limbs to quiver.

"I want you to practice sucking my cock, Love," Thomas insisted matter-of-factly, a commanding authority evident in his tone.

Swallowing hard, you hesitated for a brief moment before asking timidly, "Like a lollipop?" 

"No, not like a lollipop, Love," Thomas replied, his words filled with amused indulgence. "Just wrap your lips around the head first and start by licking off my pre-cum. Trust me, it won't be as terrible as you might imagine."

His assurance did little to alleviate your anxiety, but nonetheless, you nodded obediently.

Gingerly, you took his thick shaft into your small hands, immediately experiencing a strange mixture of revulsion and fascination.

Carefully lowering your head, you pressed your tongue to the engorged head, savoring the salty taste of his precum.

"There you go, sweetheart. Lick around the ridge just above the hole," Thomas instructed you kindly, clearly aware of how intimidated you were feeling.

"That's a good girl," he told you and, just as you obeyed his directive, your fingers simultaneously worked to stroke the entire length of his impressive manhood.

"Now take me in your mouth, sweetheart. As far as you can," Thomas commanded authoritatively, his voice full of raw demand as, with trembling fingers, you complied, opening wide to accommodate his girth.

"Beautiful," Thomas breathed, appreciating your attempt before holding onto your hair and pulling slightly to guide your mouth deeper down on his erection.

As your lips grazed the sensitive skin beneath his glans, a wave of dizziness assaulted you, leaving you gasping as you tried to regulate your breathing.

"There you have it, sweetheart, take it all," Thomas directed firmly, pressing your mouth harder against him. Gulping reflexively, you felt the foreign object filling your mouth, causing your cheeks to bulge comically.

"I will fuck your throat now," Thomas muttered roughly, thrusting himself further into your open mouth, causing you to gag involuntarily. Your eyes watered with the unexpected intensity of sensation. But even amidst the choking panic, something inside you recognized an undeniable thrill.

Thomas held you firmly in place, ensuring you maintained eye contact throughout the experience. As your struggle to maintain control intensified, so did his aggressiveness.

"Good girl," he growled approvingly when you managed to adapt quickly, albeit tears streaming down your face and saliva dripping from your chin.

His cock now nestled comfortably within your tender throat, Thomas began moving faster, building momentum. His touch became more forceful as you submitted to his demands blindly, consumed by newfound passion.

"Do you know what happens to a man when he orgasms, Love?" Thomas asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow playfully as he continued to use your mouth and throat for your pleasure. 

Confusion crossed your face, unable to discern the meaning behind his inquiry as you shook your head.

"Well, when I cum, seed will spill out from my cock right into your eager mouth," Thomas clarified casually while fondling your wet cheek. "Are you ready for that?"

Your brow furrowed, processing the implications of his statement. It dawned on you that your role as his sexual submissive required complete submission, including receiving the ultimate release from your employer.

You nodded silently, acknowledging your willingness to accept whatever fate awaited you. And as Thomas' hips started bucking violently, indicating his imminent climax, you steeled yourself, preparing for the inevitable outcome.

"Good girl. I want you to swallow my load completely," Thomas ordered, his voice rough with anticipation as he thrusted in and out of your throat. Without question, you opened wider, bracing yourself for the sudden explosion. As Thomas' hips jerked forward, releasing a torrent of hot semen directly into your gaping mouth, you could barely contain your shock. The searing liquid burned your throat, stinging fiercely, but you endured, determined to satisfy your master. Consequently, Thomas let loose a powerful roar, his muscles tensing powerfully, as his body convulsed in ecstasy.

Pulling away from your tender mouth after the volley was spent, he looked deeply into your eyes, searching for any signs of resistance or regret. Finding none, a satisfied smirk formed across his lips. "Very good indeed, Love. Now open your mouth and show me your tongue once again," commanded Thomas, placing one palm on either side of your face. Submissively, you parted your lips to expose your reddened tongue, waiting patiently for further orders. "Keep practicing, because soon you'll be giving me blowjobs regularly until, in two weeks or so, I will fuck this virgin pussy of yours," he informed you confidently, running his finger along your neck, arousal evident in his gaze.

Understanding implicitly that your services would extend beyond the confines of today's encounter, you silently accepted your fate without protest.

After all, despite the humiliation and unfamiliar experiences you underwent, there remained an inexplicable allure. Something about submitting entirely to the desires of another piqued an unidentifiable desire deep within you, stirring feelings that seemed almost forbidden. In time, perhaps these indistinct yearnings could evolve into something concrete and tangible. For now, however, you must focus solely on perfecting your skills as Thomas' personal pleasure provider and you soon learned that his requests are more than just a little unusual. 

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Sailor Boy

tom bennett x reader

A/N: i haven't actually watched the show but i had this idea and really wanted to write it

WARNINGS: smut!, tom is a little pushy, size kink (if you squint)

WORD COUNT: 1,416 words

The knock at your window frightens you. Your parents are only two doors down the hall but you can’t imagine who would be climbing up to your window at this ungodly hour. 

Then you hear it, his voice.

“Open up, love. It’s bloody freezing out here.”

It can’t be.

You rush to your window, opening it up wide to see Tom Bennett hanging on with a playboy grin on his face.

“Took you long enough.” He teases as he climbs inside. You throw your arms around him right away.

“I didn’t think you’d be back for months!” You exclaim in a whisper-shout. Your father never liked it when Tom was sneaking into your room.

“Well i’m back early, doll. Wanted to surprise you.” He murmurs into your hair as his arms squeeze around your waist. Nothing has ever felt quite as good as having you in his arms.

“That’s why you didn’t respond to my last letter?” You ask. “God, Tommy. You had worried out of my bloody mind.” You look at him with sorrow in your eyes. “I almost let myself think you were dead.”

“I’m sorry to frighten you, love. You know I never meant to, but i’m here now.” He strokes your cheek with the back of his two fingers. He clearly means it.

“I never knew how much I needed my best friend.” You say mournfully.

“Thought about you every day when I was gone.” He whispers.

His fingers trail up and down your waist. “I thought about you every day too.”

“I barely got back an hour ago, wanted you to be the first person I saw.” His words make a blush rise to your cheeks.

“Explains the sailor uniform. You clearly haven’t washed it in a while.” You tease.

“You gonna talk to someone who served your country like that? You should be thanking me for my service.” He says with mock self-righteousness. 

“Thank you.” You say nonchalantly.

“That's it? I think I deserve a bit more of a reward than that.” He says as a cheeky grin makes its way onto his face.

“What kinda reward are you wanting, soldier boy?” You ask, sensing his innuendo.

“Just a little kiss, doll.” He replies and you roll your eyes before quickly pecking his cheek.

“Happy?”

“I meant on the lips, darling. You knew that.” He lifts your chin up with his hand and brushes his thumb over your soft lips.

“Don’t…” You pull your head away and take a step back. “You know i’m not your girl, Thomas Bennett.” He always knows he’s in trouble when you use his full name like that. He hates when you’re upset with him… but he likes teasing you more.

“I just want one little kiss, then i’ll leave ya alone.” He gives you his best puppy-dog eyes with his baby blues.

“Then go down to the bar and pick a girl there.”

“I don’t wanna go down to the bar when I already got the prettiest girl in England right in front of me.” He places each of his hands on your waist as he gazes down at you.

“You shouldn’t be such a flirt with your closest friend.” You murmur.

“You shouldn’t deny a navy-man his one wish after coming back from war.” He returns.

“We both know you won’t stop at one kiss.”

“I will if that’s what you really want.”

You think on his words for a moment, nibbling on your lip that he’s so desperate to taste.

“One kiss.”

He grins and you before pulling you closer with his strong hands and then lifting one so he can guide your head until your lips meet his. It’s nothing of an innocent peck. No, this kiss is much more. He pushes his tongue past your lips and in your hazy state, you weren’t stopping him. Tom knows he might not get another chance like this so he kisses you with all the passion he can muster, hoping that it keeps you coming back for more… but it all ends too soon when you push him away gently, just enough so he gets the idea.

“What’s wrong?” He asks in a low, almost drowsy tone.

“You promised.”

“I did… but I can tell you wanna kiss me more.” He looks at you with such desire in his eyes.

“I won’t be another notch on your belt, Tommy.” You say firmly.

“A notch on my belt? Is that what you think?” He looks at you, clearly upset. “Do you not know how much you mean to me?”

“You just… sleep with a lot of girls.”

“I don’t only want to sleep with you, love. You’re so much more to me than that. I wanna make you my girl.” He says earnestly, looking you right in the eyes as he speaks.

“But I just thought-”

“Doll, your letters were the only thing keeping me sane when I was away. A girl like you is no one night stand.”

“You really mean that?”

“Of course I do. Is that why you’ve never let me kiss you before?”

You feel yourself blush even harder. “Yeah.” Your eyes fall to the floor but he lifts your chin back up right away.

“Let me show me how much I love you.”

He waits for a moment until you finally nod. He then closes the space between your lips and kisses you with just as fervour as before. You whine into his mouth as his hands squeeze at your waist and before you know it, one of those hands is sliding up your skirt. You let out a gasp as he begins to rub you through the thin fabric of your panties. You never knew a man could bestow such pleasure.

“Mmm, Tommy.” You whimper out.

“You like that, pretty girl?” He rubs your pearl a little more firmly now. “Why don’t you take those panties off and lie on your bed for me?”

You climb back on your bed quickly and he smirks at your eagerness. You pull your panties off from under your nightgown and he lifts the hem of the garment so he can see your glistening cunny.

“Knew you wanted it.” He smirks before beginning to rub your pearl directly now. As he does, he uses his other hand to free himself from his trousers. His fingers slip inside of you now as he starts stroking his cock.

“I want you, Tommy… all of you.” No other words could have been more perfect for him to hear.

“This is your first time, right?” He asks slowly as he lines up with your entrance. 

You nod.

“I’ll be real gentle with you then.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your lips as he slides in. It does sting ever so slightly but nothing akin to pain even with how big he is.

“You can um… continue.” He laughs when you can’t seem to find the words.

“I’ll take good care of you, doll.” He murmurs as he starts to thrust in and out of you.

You’ve never felt anything quite like it before. You’ve pleasured yourself with your fingers before but it’s never felt this good. He seems to hit every spot inside of you that needs attention.

“You feel so good squeezing around me like that.” He praises as he picks up the pace. It feels like he’s fucking into you even deeper now.

“I like it, Tommy.” You whine.

“I knew you would, baby.” He presses fluttering kisses to your neck that contrast very nicely with how he’s pounding into you. He goes back to rubbing your pearl, wanting you to get as close to your peak as he is.

“I think i’m gonna…” You breathe out.

“Do it, darling. Cum for me.” He says and immediately notices how your walls contract around him. 

He fucks your hard through your high, until your squirming beneath him, and then finally pulls out to cum on your tummy, just below where your nightgown rests.

“You did such a good job for me. Made me feel so good.” He whispers as he collapses on top of you. You start to run your fingers through his hair. As much as you would like to savour this moment, you know you can’t.

“My parents will be up soon, Tommy. I can’t imagine how they’d react if they saw the state of us right now.”

“Five more minutes.” He grumbles into your chest.

You sigh. “Fine… five more minutes.”

taglist (comment to be added):General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

[diazsdimples]

Several Sentence Sunday

Tagged by my love @hippolotamus who shared a devastating Mirrorball snippet. Go check it out!! On this weeks agenda we (once again) have some Eddietommy Mechanic Fic, which I really need to rename because there's currently 150 words of actual mechanic, and another 6.3k of pure smut (and only one of them has finished 😭 I fear we're in for the long haul here boys). Anyways, pls enjoy.

“Fuck, I’m getting close,” Tommy warns breathily, a barely perceptible break in his voice. He combs his hand through Eddie’s hair, tilting his face up so their eyes meet. His balls slip out of Eddie’s mouth and Eddie whines, mourning the loss. “Where do you want me to come?” The question makes Eddie’s brain come back online, pulling him back to reality rather than the pleasant, buzzy space he’d been in, and he considers, lazily stroking Tommy’s cock as he does so. It’s not something he’s ever had to consider before, with any of his other partners. There’s always been something so satisfying about them coming on his tongue or around his fingers, feeling their rhythmic clenches as they squirm and thrash above him. With a man though, he feels like it’s more. The idea of having Tommy’s come on him - marking him and claiming him – sends a bolt of hot and shivery desire up Eddie’s spine. As much as he’d love to take Tommy into his mouth and milk each and every drop from him, he thinks he might need a little bit more practice before he can pull that off without gagging. On his face, then? As hot as that seems, the practical side of Eddie says that getting come in his eye the first time he sleeps with a man would set a bad precedent, and he doesn’t want the cleanup that would come along with it. Although, the thought of long, thick ropes of come landing on his cheek, dripping down his chin, maybe even in his hair, definitely has an appeal to it. Eddie shivers at the thought, his neglected cock throbbing between his legs. Next time. “Eddie, baby, I’m going to need an answer soon.” Tommy sounds wrecked, like he’s holding himself back, and it’s then that Eddie remembers he’s still playing with Tommy’s cock.

@theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @buckera @bidisasterevankinard

@monsterrae1 @wikiangela @bucksbignaturals @bigfootsmom @slightlyobsessedwitheverything

@tommybuckleykinard @bi-buckrights @actuallyitsellie @perfectlysunny02 @buffaluff

@steadfastsaturnsrings @agenttommykinard @eddiespornstache @eddiestommy @tommykinrd

@superlock-in-the-tardis @evansboyfriend @tommykinkard @cliophilyra @rdng1230

@sleepywinchesters @emilybahu @screaming-universe @teabroomsandbooks @spotsandsocks (lmk if you want adding or removing from this wip's taglist)

[faeruy]

Agatha All Along Episode 7 - "Death's Hand In Mine" Tarot Analysis Part 2

Part the Second - Here I’m gonna talk about three separate readings - the Reading Lilia starts for Billy, the 2 cards he draws, and Agatha’s spread. The latter two could theoretically be dismissed, because neither Billy or Agatha know what they’re doing or have any real intention as they’re doing the drawing. But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth looking at, because sometimes even without a specific intention, the cards could be trying to say something. Also because it’s fun to analyze, so why not?

If this is the first post of mine you're seeing, I am definitely an amateur, so it's possible I get some things wrongs. I have done analysis on other episodes, and also Lilia's True Reading, and links to that are at the bottom. So here we go:

Billy's Reading - The Traveler - The Magician - So he’s been associated with The Magician for awhile now, before the show even came out. Upright the card represents power, taking action, creativity, and resourcefulness, all things Billy has shone in spades. He has the power he inherited from Wanda, he’s consistently shown amazing problem-solving skills, and creative approaches to getting what he wants; which includes approaching Agatha in the first place. He has, and has always had, everything he needs to go after what he wants. Reversed also has some fitting aspects; untapped potential, lack of clarity, poor planning. He is an impulsive teen, after all, and struggles with controlling his full power - fitting well within his original question - namely “Am I William or Billy?”

What’s Missing - The Sun - This is interesting, because the Sun represents energy, enthusiasm, and success. It’s a super positive card. Even the Reversed is mild; basically a call from your inner child saying ‘come out and play’, although it also refers to feeling a bit down and experiencing temporary setbacks. Lilia calls out “reunion” ,and that catches Billy’s attention, but that’s not normally part of the reading of that card at all. The only thing I can think of is that Lilia is already seeing something in the reading; she’s seeing that what’s missing is a connection to William/Billy’s childhood, and the strongest representation of that is his brother Tommy.  Personality wise, Tommy fits the card very well - of the twins, he was more energetic and happy-go-lucky, and we associate him very strongly with Billy’s childhood. Not sure, entirely. It could just be that the writers decided to fudge the meaning a little, or a lot, for the desired effect, but they’ve been so good with the cards otherwise, and there’s better cards they could have chosen if they wanted one with reunion in it’s meaning. But lets look at what else this card could potentially mean for Billy. One is that, since the card is referencing Tommy, it could be an indication that his twin, wherever he is, is doing just fine. Happy, successful, full of energy. Or it could mean that, one of the reasons he doesn't know who he is, is because he’s missing something; confidence, enthusiasm, or even just the belief that he will be successful in his quest. Without the rest of the reading, it’s hard to tell. 

And we don’t get the rest of the reading. The Path Behind is drawn, but we don’t get to see what it is. It doesn’t really matter; we know what was on his Path Behind. Westview, Wanda, Vision, The Kaplans, and more recently Alice; the Knight of Wands. It could be any number of cards drawn, too many for me to even speculate, although it would have been fun to see. The rest of the cards aren’t even drawn; which is fair, most of the rest refer to Billy’s future and that would be spoilers. I guess we’ll find out!

Billy’s Draws - The Chariot and Seven of Swords Reversed. They don’t know the layout they’re playing with, so he’s just drawing randomly, and it’s a bit unclear who he’s drawing FOR. So let’s take it one at a time.

The Chariot - The way I kind of like to describe it is that it’s kind of a bulldozer of a card. It mostly represents determination, focus, victory, assertion, conquest. On the Reversed, it represents aggression, lack of control, and lack of direction. (Given that he pulled the card without intention, it would have been very fitting and VERY FUNNY if he had pulled it Reversed). It does speak to their state of mind at this point; there’s a focus to getting to the end of the Road and survive, and beat it, but there’s the chance that this determination is maybe misguided; they’re trying to brute-force their way through a trial that requires intuition and finesse. In my opinion, this card is a warning; they won’t win by being the Chariot. 

 Seven of Swords Reversed - Billy says the Reversed is the opposite of the Upright, but that's a simplification and shows just how inexperienced he is with reading Tarot. Reversed is a flip from the Upright, but it’s more like… it’s the same energy, but redirected. For example The Tower Upright represents destruction and chaos and upheaval, and it's kind of a violent card that way. The Reverse is equally about the chaos and upheaval, and violent in it’s own way, but it’s transformation, not destruction. In the case of Seven of Swords Reversed, which is what he draws, his interpretation is off because he expects it to be a matter of honesty being the opposite of deception. Upright is about deceit, betrayal, and selfishness - deceiving others. Take the same deceptive energy, but you flip it’s direction and you get self-deception- deceiving yourself, self-sabotage, which is what the Reversed actually represents. In this case, it could mean a couple of things. Taken with the Chariot, it continues the warning; their bull-headedness and single-minded focus on getting to end is only deceiving themselves into thinking they can do this without Lilia. It could be a card specific to Agatha - she is her own worst enemy, she uses deception as a mask and as protection, but she’s doing the most damage to herself. For Billy, it could also represent some of his imposter syndrome; he still doesn’t truly know who he is, and it’s an uncomfortable situation to be in. 

Agatha's draw - I had to pause the show to try and catch what she drew, but I think it's important. I’m not gonna go super in depth, but I do want to get a quick read, and see what it might be foreshadowing or telling us about Agatha. Note that other than drawing the Hanged Man second, I don't know the order she drew them, so I can't even begin to guess how they play together, or if it’s meant to be read the same way as Lilia would read them. I might take a guess on the two whose positions I know for sure, but otherwise I may ignore it. I think it’s also interesting to note that Agatha doesn’t put ANY of them directly into their correct space; they’re mostly readable as upright from Agatha’s position, but all of them are cocked, off true Upright or Reversed. Now of course, we know that’s because she doesn’t care about Tarot a whit, and isn’t thinking about it, but it could also indicate that any of these cards could be read as either.

Five of Wands - it is in fact the Five of Wands in the Traveler position, and man was that a tricky one to figure out, since most of it was covered up by the Ten of Swords. Luckily, they’re using the Rider-Waite deck, and there’s just enough showing that identifying the card was possible. Five of Wands is a combative card - competition, rivalry, strife, and disagreement, fighting for dominance. And outwardly, that’s Agatha all over. She’s abrasive, she likes to poke the bear, and she deliberately eggs people on, because let’s be real, she gains power that way. It’s not always a bad thing; she’s survived for so long because she’s competitive and they might have all died during Jen’s trial if she wasn’t so quick to snap Jen out of her funk. Reversed speaks to someone who internalizes their problems, and we all know Agatha would rather die than admit she has problems or needs help. So Agatha can definitely be the Five of Wands.

The Hanged Man - This is the one she drew second. Hanged Man represents taking a pause, looking at things from new perspectives and letting go. Reversed represents delays, stalling, indecision and crossroads. From what I can gather, this is telling Agatha that she needs to stop and take a look around her instead of barrelling through. She’s so unwilling to look at things from a new perspective, unwilling to let go of the things that have allowed her to survive and it’s not serving her anymore. At the moment, she’s stuck, and can’t go forward. The card is another warning, but it also gives her the solution; stop and breathe, and open up the mind to new possibilities. 

Clockwise from the Hanged Man, we have Two of Wands - discovery, progress, planning, moving forward, but on the Reversed, fear of the unknown, disorganization, lack of planning. It’s a card about taking a spark of inspiration and moving forward towards your goals. Fitting, actually, for how the journey started for Agatha; there was a spark of an idea; a decision to travel the Road, and the momentum to go for it, assemble the Coven, and start. But Agatha didn’t have a particularly clear goal in mind, other than getting power back and hiding from the Salem Seven, and that her progress forward has been haphazard, inefficient, and beset by problems. So far in her draws, its cards that are basically telling her to slow the everloving fuck down and actually think things through. 

Next up Wheel of Fortune - Highkey, my favorite card in the deck, and the one I associate most with. It’s a card about change; everything is in a cycle and everything is temporary, both good and bad luck. Upright speaks to destiny and good luck, but also that there are things changing outside your control and you just have to deal. Reversed, bad luck and resistance to change, but also breaking cycles, especially those that need to be broken. Both readings have their positive and negative connotations, but we’re here to talk about what it means for Agatha. Taking everything into account, I think what it means is that she is at a critical turning point; the Wheel can swing in any direction, and it’s gonna be up to her how she deals with it. She can meet her destiny head on, and maybe good luck will come her way, and if she chooses kindness, she can be met with kindness back. She could resist the changes about to happen, and be beset with problems, and the Wheel can swing negative. Or she could break the cycle entirely; break the cycle of trauma that kept her angry and jaded, break the cycle of abuse that kept witches persecuted for centuries, break the rules of the Road. Again. The Wheel also reminds us that even good fortune is temporary, and we should cherish it while it exists. At the moment, she has a Coven - she needs to embrace them while they’re still her Coven. 

Next - The World - Upright it refers to completion, integration, accomplishment, travel. Reversed; seeking personal closure, shortcuts, delays. This card feeds really nicely from the past cards; It talks about having achieved goals and feeling whole and potentially a greater understanding of the world around you. It’s a cycle that has come to a close, completed, a reassurance after the changeability of the Wheel of Fortune. But like some of the earlier cards, the Reversed suggests that while completion is near, there’s some obstacle, mostly self-imposed. Lack of focus, lack of planning, a desire for shortcuts and an easy road have led to hardship and not true achievement. It says that one should re-inspect their goals. It’s not hard to see how this can apply to Agatha - every trial, she’s been looking for the shortcut, for a cheat to get through the Road, which suggests that she’s been looking at it the wrong way, and she needs to figure out what her real goal for Road is. We’ve been given some indication she has unfinished business - that with Rio, and what happened to her son; and maybe her real purpose on the Road, whether she knows it or not, is to gain closure on that. 

Page of Swords is next, and its placement is why I haven’t spent a lot of time talking about how most of these cards relate to the “Safe Passage” layout. If she drew it properly, with The Traveler first, that means Hanged Man would be “What’s Missing” and we would land on this one as “Windfall”... which I have a really hard time reading that way. It’s a sword card, which is a high energy suit. Upright it refers to curiosity, energy, new phases, communication, new ideas. Reversed is haste, undelivered promises, unforeseen events. All talk, no action. Which, while the Reversed speaks to how Agatha has behaved on the road, and the promises she made to… well everyone in the Coven, I’m really not sure the other side applies. Perhaps it’s what she needs to do in order to avoid the pitfalls promised by the earlier cards? There is one other thing though; Page is a face card, and face cards could also refer to people in her life. And who does the Page describe pretty well? An aspiring witch like Billy. Maybe if she plays her cards right, at the end of the journey she could find herself with a mentee, a student to guide under her wing. It’s a tricky reading, and I’m really not sure about my interpretation there.

Finally, in the Destination - Ten of Swords. Agatha is going to lose. And Lose BADLY. Ten of Swords is all about hitting rock bottom, betrayal, deep wounds, and loss. There’s nothing left to do but pick yourself up and move forward. If it wasn’t clear which way the Wheel was going to swing earlier, this all but says it. If she’s lucky, the Reverse will also come into play; clarity and recovery. From the ashes of defeat, she could rise again, wiser, smarter, better. She could let go of all the old hurts and gain hope and a new sense of self and purpose. One can only hope.

There’s one more card I want to talk about. I’ve talked about it a few times already, but I want to mention it here. 

Lilia’s Final Card - The Tower Upright. Lilia, you absolute LEGEND. We've talked about this one a lot. But now everything makes sense - Why specify the Tower Reversed earlier? So that it could be turned Upright when needed. And what happens when you have an upright tower? Your world turns upside down. Lilia, always seeing the past and the future and the present, in the end, she made her own damn fate - she chose to face destruction and chaos head on because it saved her coven. And because she knows what her future has in store for her. It’s such a beautiful move from the writers; the setup and execution of it was perfect, and it shows just how much care and love were put into the characters, that Lilia got such a cool moment with one simple flip of a card. I just couldn’t end this analysis without touching on what was one of my favorite moments in an episode that was filled with so many of them. 

Anyways; that’s it for my analysis for now; there’s only two more episodes left and without Lilia shuttling back and forth between time, it’s unclear if we’ll get more tarot cards, but if anything pops up, I’ll be sure to talk about it. God knows, when I started this, I didn't actually think it would turn into a series, but here we are. It’s been an absolute pleasure getting to do a deep dive on the Tarot in the show, and doing a little bit of close-reading/media analysis within it. I feel like it’s also helped me understand Tarot a little bit better than I did before. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have!

Links to Past Posts

Episodes 1-3  Episode 4  Episode 5  Episode 6  Episode 7 part 1

[good-day-batey]

Absolutely going crazy about how Agatha All Along is about relationships with mothers (and honestly family, but I like it being mothers, can you tell I have mommy issues?).

With the Salem Seven, are the children of the ones that trialled and wanted to execute Agatha. Having grown resentful and vengeful of what Agatha did to their mothers, they have come after her, in her weakest she has been. Perhaps just like how their mothers and Evanora did to her daughter during her trial.

With Lorna Wu doing everything she can to protect Alice with this generational curse between women--daughters of her clan. Going on tours and tours to get her song-her spell to be heard because just as long as it is remembered, Alice will be protected. Which succeeded, and Alice died with her own terms in protecting her Coven.

With Agatha first and foremost being hated and seen as evil by her mother, and then being seen/rumored as this wicked witch (get it cause she's dressed up as the wicked witch of the east in ep 7 ha) who gave up her son for the book of the dammed, when in reality that can't be the case with all of the hints we've seen with her and Nicholas. And then seeing this boy-- this Teen who just broke into her house, broke her out of the Scarlet Witch spell, got to know him more and see him as a child to be protected once more, unlike perhaps do what she couldn't do with her own son. That she will to this kid who may have been the son of the woman who trapped her for 3 years, and basically "deceived" her all throughout the journey, but is nonetheless proud. Proud in seeing him take the opportunity to survive and grow up when he was supposed to die, as Billy Maximoff and even as William Kaplan

With Rio, who loves and is just as much of a mother to Nicholas, but is obligated to her job that she cannot abandon, making her do something that she doesn't want to someone she loves (both to Nicky and Agatha).

And to Billy, as a Maximoff and as a Kaplan. With Wanda, creating him and Tommy out of nothing but her powers and a desire for love and family, to her having to take everything she wants down and to her going through the multiverse to find her children only to find out that the twins of that universe already have a mother that is loving and isn't blindsided by the grief and the control of the darkhold that won't accept albit scared with what has she became . Too blinded by the grief and corruption, she didn't notice that her love presevered and saved the body this dying child. And with Rebecca Kaplan, despite basically grieving the death of her son because he can't see her boy in him anymore because of the amnesia (or literally with William dying and Billy taking over), she hasn't given up on this child. Having kept him safe in whichever way she can and in the process making Billy see her as her mother, giving the Kaplans more time with him rather than dying in William's bar mitzvah.

And lastly, with Lilia (I'll always love you), having the power and knowledge, she has basically been the mother of the coven. Always trying to save the people from the demise she has no control of seeing and failing to do, such as the curse of seeing divination just like in her first coven. She has accepted her fate of being a witch by having her final act saving her current coven, sacrificing herself, and loving to do so in the process. Such as a mother ready to sacrifice herself for those they love.

I have so much more yapping especially with Lilia and ep 7 (and Jen but we don't have her backstory yet so) but its honest to God 1:33 am in my place and i need to sleep 😴😴

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

LET’S GO HOME

Pairing - Tommy Shelby - fem!reader

Summary - Tommy was your most loyal client. But his proposition made you run. But you can only run so far from The Peaky Devil.

Warnings - Dubcon, abduction, oral! m receiving, intimidating Tommy.

Word count - 1.3k

Notes - I think I'm going through a Tommy phase, no I am not okay.

A small congested sniffle here and there were the only sounds in the Bently as the engine roared on the empty dirt road. Tugging at your nightdress, your eyes dared to look over to Tommy as he drove, his eyes firmly on the road ahead and knuckles white around the wheel. 

It was freezing at the time of dusk, the orange sun blurred behind the clouds peeking out from the horizon. As you pressed your shivering body against the door, his dark eyes finally gazed over to you. 

“Come over here my darling… We still have about an hour ahead of us, come and keep us warm” Tommy’s voice was cold yet soothing. 

As badly as you didn’t want to, the thinness of your dress demanded otherwise. Sitting in this condition for the past few hours has left you desperate for warmth. Slowly, you slid across the seating and snuggled up to him, your teeth chattering. Tommy breathed out as he pulled the car over to the side and parked the car. Your eyes filled with fear, but Tommy merely slid off his coat and wrapped it around your fragile body. 

When he pressed on the pedal again with another lit cigarette between his lips, you let out a rough breath and rubbed your forehead against his pec. 

Tommy Shelby was your most loyal client back in London. Being a businessman, he dropped by here and there. But always requested you to satisfy his needs whenever he was in town. Surprisingly, he was the only man that was able to satisfy your needs as well despite being a prostitute. 

He paid high amounts to see you, to keep you all to himself in that cheap bed all day. Over time, the sex became less frequent as a lot of your time together was spent talking. All while being held in his arms. 

He told you he loved you time and time again. But Tommy was just high on desire and opium. So you played along in this fantasy of his, a man like him could never be in love with a woman like you. It was only ever infatuation, desire, ownership. 

Every time he’d ask you to stop seeing others, and every time you told him you would. Even though his payment was always large, your boss took a larger cut. So you couldn’t solely depend on him in a city like London. 

But you were naive on how dangerous of a man Mr Shelby was. Some girls praised you for bewitching a man like him, others deemed you to be cursed. Yes you knew he was a gangster, a leader of an underground empire. But you never dared yourself to learn the extent of his profession. 

Then, on one of the most beautiful days of the year, all the other men steered clear of you, nobody wanted you. At first you wondered why, got overwhelmed as your cash was running short and you hadn’t seen Tommy in weeks. But when you observed a man in a peaked cap slip your boss a hefty amount of money, you had a sick feeling in your gut that Tommy was up to something. 

That night Tommy finally visited you again. Right before he left, just after he slipped on his coat, he made a proposition that not many would refuse. Tommy put forward that you quit your position at the brothel and worked for him full time, living with him in his grand home. You freaked mentally but put on a facade to be in compliance. 

Tommy wanted you to believe that you were coming on your free will. He cleverly orchestrated for you to submit yourself completely to him. Which was surprising, since he was a man known for taking whatever he wanted. The uncertainty of being completely underneath him frightening you. The warnings the other girls gave you pulsated from the back of your mind. 

As Tommy left, he gave you a stern expression, you knew he was trying to read you. So you gave him a gentle kiss on the lips to reassure him. Tommy informed you that he would come for you after he had settled some business and gave you your last official payment. 

You caught the first train out in the morning. Through your rush of adrenaline, you didn’t even check where it was taking you. You only wanted to get out, run as far as you could. Where you ended up in a small town far from the city. He couldn’t find you here, for he was still only a man. 

For months, you had been working as a maid at a small estate. It felt like you had reached the end of a rainbow to be able to get this lucky. The pay was decent and the owners were kinder than most. Every night you had a comfortable bed to sleep in. 

Until this night, where you woke up to a pistol pressed against your jaw. Your heart immediately raced. It bolted from the starting point to not realize that there was no endpoint. You began to blubber as the moonlight illuminated his familiar features underneath his peaked cap. Those blue eyes seemed to sparkle. Tommy teased the barrel over your soft skin. 

“Hush my darling, hush. We do not want to wake anyone, do we?” Tommy whispered, a wicked grin on his lips as he pressed the gun to your temple. 

You choked on your whine as you shook your head to him. Tommy sighed as he sat on the bed beside you, his hand rubbing over your hidden thighs. 

“Come on, let’s go home” he spoke smoothly as he slid the gun back into his holster. 

Your hands stroked his abdomen as he rested his chin on your head. By the way his hips were constantly shifting, you knew he was hard. The natural urge inside of you demanded that you satisfied him. Whilst the reasoning inside of you pushed you to be good, for you knew what he was capable of. 

Because how was it even possible for him to find you? You thought you were gone without a trace. Never had he shown you his ruthlessness, his cruelness. Never have you seen the pure evil that ran through his bloodstream. The sickening gut feeling told you that he would show you that side for betraying him. 

“Darling… I knew you missed me” Tommy exhaled in satisfaction as you squeezed his bulge. Gradually the pressure of your strokes grew. As you undid his belt, you pulled out his large size and gulped.  “Don’t think this gets you off the hook” Tommy groaned as you took him inside of your mouth eagerly. 

All you could do was hum in compliance. Tommy breathed out, his neck tilting back slightly as you took him inside of your mouth more and more. Your cheeks hollowed as one of your hands fondled his balls. 

“Fuck darling… I’ve missed you so much” he confessed as his foot pressed harder on the accelerator.

His hand pressed on your head to keep his cock poking against the back of your throat. You gagged out and attempted to push him off, too afraid to try to be more forceful for he was the one with his hand on the wheel. 

“Gonna stay buried in you for days… Weeks even…” Tommy stated as his hips flexed up, tears swelled in your eyes as you struggled not to bite down. “Your cunt is going to feel so fucking warm” he noted, jaw wide open and watering at the thought of your sweet nectar tree. 

Your legs squirmed across the seating as you squeezed his thigh in surrender. But it was all pointless, this was merely a lesson on how he was never going to be letting you go. So you might as well just suck it up, literally. 

“Keep on going darling, almost there…” Tommy encouraged you, a wicked smirk on his lips.

[lionlena]

I can't be everywhere (No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader) ANGST! Part 3

Summary: You knew Joel was a busy man, but you never thought that when you needed him most you would hear, "I can't be everywhere." As if your pain meant nothing. So you decided that you couldn't be everywhere either… You couldn't be in his heart anymore.

Warnings: NSFW, self-harm (something like that), rough sex, p in v, unprotected sex, ANGST, miscarriage, misunderstanding, loss, mourning, broken heart, age gap (17 years), Joel is 45, depression, Joel tries hard, but… He can't show his true emotions…

Part 3

You thought being away from Joel, away from the place that reminded you of the loss of your baby, would help you, but it didn't. You felt like you were starting to get depressed, and living with your friend wasn't helping you at all. Maddie was sweet, but she tried too hard. You felt like she was taking on the role of your mother. She was worried that you weren't eating enough, that you weren't going out enough, and her attempts to talk to you about going to therapy only made you angry.

Deep down you knew she wanted good for you, but in your emotional state, you just had the desire to reject her. And that's exactly what you did. You found an apartment to rent and two weeks after you first entered her apartment, you moved out.

After finding a new apartment, you didn't feel any better. You tried to occupy your mind, find a new hobby, work more, but… You ended up sitting in the corner of your bedroom and crying. You processed thousands of scenarios in your head. Maybe you should have had an abortion? Then it would all be over before it began. Maybe not? Maybe you would suffer more and hate Joel more. Maybe you had a bad diet? You didn't take folic acid before pregnancy because… You weren't planning a pregnancy. Thousands of thoughts that did not allow you to sleep and function normally. Being able to work from home didn't make anything easier either, because you didn't have to go outside. You always had a tendency to overthink and get anxious, but when you were with Joel it was easier for you. He always knew how to put your mind at ease. He wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you to his chest. He kissed your head and murmured sweet things. Joel wasn't a man of many words, but his embrace was enough. You felt then safe and surrounded by a protective cocoon of love. But you weren't sure if it would help you now. * Joel hated the emptiness that filled his house. The emptiness that reflected his interior. He slowly realized how much he should have changed in his life and himself. He didn't know if this would get you back, but he had to do something because he felt like he was going crazy. He started by renovating the house or rather building another room… A children's room. He decided to tear down the wall and enlarge the room that had once served as Sarah's dressing room and storage room for her toys. He knew it was crazy, and Tommy didn't hesitate to say it to his face when he visited to watch a game and drink beer.

"Are you crazy? Let me understand this correctly. You are building a children's room now, for a baby who…"

Joel grimaced. When he heard it out loud, he realized how stupid it was, but he was going to defend himself.

"No. Look, I'm not crazy, I know it won't bring this baby back to life, but… I should have started doing this as soon as I found out about Y/N's pregnancy. I know it seems crazy now, but… I have to do this and… It doesn't have to be the nursery. When Y/N comes back… If she comes back, she'll decide. It could be her office, guest room, home gym… Whatever."

Tommy took a sip of his beer and nodded.

"Okay… Now that sounds a little more reasonable. Shall I help you?"

Joel smiled a little. Sometimes his younger brother was very annoying, but he could always count on his support.

"Sure."

The younger Miller looked at him and asked quietly:

"Has Y/N spoken to you?"

Joel reached for another beer and shook his head.

"He replies to my text messages, but as briefly as possible. Usually, it's just a dry: okay, I'm fine, don't call…"

Tommy sighed and nodded.

"So for now, no chance of her coming back."

"No, but… If this is your way of trying to get out of helping me with the renovation, it's too late."

Tommy laughed softly.

"Not at all… I promised it, so I'll help you." * A month and a half had passed since you left and Joel was losing hope of any reconciliation with you. He felt lost and maybe a little disappointed. He just wanted a chance, one little chance. He was ready to do anything, to fall on his knees in front of you and beg for forgiveness. He would promise you everything.

When he got your text message with the address of the new apartment and the request to send your things, he felt his heart break once again, and then… He knew that what he wanted to do was crazy, that you would be furious, but it was his last hope. *

When you heard the doorbell, you were sure it was the courier with your things. From what Joel wrote, everything was fit into four boxes. You walked across the living room and kicked the pizza box under the couch. You didn't care that your hair was messy and you were wearing Joel's old t-shirt that you took before leaving him. You couldn't even explain why you were wearing it. You told yourself it was comfortable, but you knew it wasn't everything. You opened the door and your heart sank.

"What the fuck…"

That was the first thing you managed to say when you saw Joel with a bouquet, his hair slicked back and looking too good for your opinion.

Joel expected such a reaction, so he didn't lose his confidence and gently said:

"Hey, Y/N…" He looked you up and down. He saw that you didn't look your best. The fact that you were wearing his t-shirt made him feel both happy and melancholy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you hissed.

You wanted to slam the door, preferably to hit him in the nose, but you knew it was pointless. Joel would probably be banging on the door anyway. You would never think that he would take time off work and drive so many miles to see you. This seemed out of character for him. So he must have been desperate.

"I brought your things. I thought it would be better if I did it myself, just to… To make sure they reach you."

You huffed and looked at him disapprovingly. It was such a pathetic excuse.

"Yeah, of course."

Joel lowered his head and scratched the back of his neck.

"I wanted to see you." He said contritely. "Call me an idiot, an asshole… A motherfucker, but… I miss you."

Something about his voice and attitude made you soften. This wasn't the same Joel who hurt you in the hospital. It didn't mean you forgave him, but… You missed him too. You missed his body, the grip of his hands on your hips. You felt yourself getting warm. You had this sudden need to replace your emotional pain with a moment of oblivion. You grabbed Joel by his shirt and dragged him inside. You grabbed the flowers he was holding for you and tossed them aside.

"I missed…" You growled and started to undo his belt. "…for this."

Joel's eyes widened and he gasped in surprise. His hands were shaking as he grabbed yours and tried to stop you from what you were doing.

"Y/N what are you doing… I… That's not what I came for."

You felt like laughing. You knew perfectly well that he wasn't here to have sex. Joel might be an asshole sometimes, but he would never do something like this. You didn't care, you were going to push him over the edge. Use him like a fucking toy.

"I want you to fuck me! Hard, fast, rough… So I can feel it in next day…"

Joel's face turned red and he swallowed hard.

"But… I… I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't give a damn what you want!"

Joel swallowed. Part of him wanted to push you away, beg you to come back to your senses. He didn't come to make love to you. He wanted to talk to you and beg for forgiveness, but on the way to you, he promised himself that he would do whatever you wanted. And you wanted rough sex. So he put aside morality and common sense and turned on his animal instincts. He thought it was too simple, but the truth was that you always turned him on, even in his stretched-out t-shirt. He grabbed your buttocks and picked you up onto the kitchen counter. You smirked. You had him exactly where you wanted him. You saw the bulge in his pants. Joel grabbed your thighs and said:

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He didn't need more, he took off your shorts and panties in one move. His hand went to your pussy, but before he could touch your clit, you grabbed his hand.

"No… Without preparation."

Joel looked at you with dark eyes and growled.

"I won't fuck you when you are dry! You want me to hurt you. I'll do it the way you want… Hard… Rough, but…" He sighed and his gaze became pleading. "Please."

You wanted to continue arguing with him, but you knew he was right. He was capable of fucking you so hard that you would feel it the next day, even if he prepared you. You nodded, and his thumb immediately began rubbing rhythmic circles on your clit. His free hand reached for his cock, which was already half-hard.

You tilted your head back and moaned softly as you felt him insert one finger into you.

He too made a few grunts as he stroked his cock, which was already standing proudly.

When you felt yourself getting closer to climax, you grabbed his wrist and growled:

"Enough! I'm ready…"

He looked at you in surprise and grimaced. You knew what he meant. He was a master at preparing you, and he never stopped stretching you with just one finger.

"Are you… Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Joel sighed and shook his head, but he was already aroused and saw that there was no point in arguing with you. He pulled away for a moment and lowered his pants and boxers. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and went to pull out a condom, but you stopped him again. This time there was anger in his eyes.

"Y/N…" he growled warningly.

But you weren't going to take a step back.

"I'm not making you finish inside me… You'll take out before you come."

You saw the moment he gave up. He simply didn't have the energy to fight you as his erect cock twitched with anticipation, wanting to feel your warm core.

"All right."

He grabbed your hips and pulled you to the edge of the kitchen counter. You felt his cock head against your pussy. You bit your lip and nodded slightly at him. You knew it would hurt, but you wanted it.

Joel pushed into you with one brutal thrust, causing the air to escape from your lungs. You dug your nails into his shoulders and gasped. Joel moved closer to you. His lips were on your neck as he growled,

"This is what you wanted…" And then, more gently, he added, "Should I stop?"

"NO." You hissed.

And that was it. He figured you got a chance earlier to back out. He wanted you in that animalistic way, even though he knew how wrong it was. He gripped your hips tightly and that was his only warning before he started pounding into you.

He didn't even give you a moment to adjust to his thrusts. You held onto him tightly, completely at his mercy. You had no control over the speed or force of his thrusts. You screamed as the pain mixed with pleasure.

Joel got lost in your body and he couldn't think straight. He finally felt your warm body, and your scent, and heard your voice. For a few seconds, he could forget everything that had happened. He could pretend you never broke up.

He just came home from work and you greeted him in his t-shirt and soaked panties and offered him your pussy instead of dinner. So he accepted it happily and took you here and now.

You moaned louder and louder as you felt your climax getting closer. Your thighs were trembling, your breathing quick and shallow.

"Jooo… I…"

You dug your nails deeper into his flesh as you climaxed. Joel grunted as he felt your vaginal muscles tighten around his cock. He knew he had to get out of you… Quick.

You hissed in pain when he pulled out of you without warning and with a decisive movement. He leaned back and grabbed his dick. A few movements of his hand were enough for him to come. His cum landed on your thighs and the kitchen counter.

Joel pulled up his boxers and pants. He moved closer to you and rested his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily.

You raised your hand, wanting to do what you always did, which was to run your hand through his hair, but in the end, you stopped yourself.

After a few moments, Joel controlled his breathing and pulled away, and then… He grabbed you and held you in his arms. You didn't expect this. He carried you to the couch and carefully laid you down.

"Bathroom?"

"In the hall on the right…" you muttered.

Joel nodded and when he was gone you closed your eyes and sighed. You still felt the pain from his strong thrusts, but it finally made your mind go blank. There were no unnecessary thoughts, just a feeling of fulfillment and pain mixed with pleasure.

You didn't even notice when Joel came back. When you felt the wet, warm towel between your thighs, you yelped in surprise and jumped. Joel immediately placed his hand on your belly and said soothingly:

"I'm just going to clean you up… How are you feeling?"

You blinked in surprise. It's not that Joel was never tender and caring, and yet… He was never that caring. You cleared your throat and muttered:

"I'm okay…"

Joel nodded and placed a soft kiss on your thigh.

"Do you need anything? Water? A painkiller? A warm compress?"

You frowned and shook your head.

"No… I just want to take a nap."

"Of course."

Joel immediately got up and lay down next to you, wrapping his arms around you. Well… that's not what you wanted. But when you felt his warm, strong body pressing against your body, you gave up. When you felt him kiss your head, you allowed yourself to relax. You haven't slept well in weeks. Before you thought twice, you fell into a deep sleep. * In the morning you woke up in bed. You slowly sat up and blinked in surprise. You looked around confused, thinking maybe it was all a dream, but then you moved your hips and felt yourself sore. You looked at your watch and realized that you had slept for over twelve hours. Your eyes widened in surprise. What added to the shock was the fact that there was a glass of water and Advil on the bedside table. After a while, you heard a noise coming from the kitchen. You carefully got out of bed and put on a clean T-shirt and shorts. You slowly moved towards the kitchen. You smelled food, which made you feel hungry. You noticed boxes of your things in the living room. And then Joel standing at the kitchen stove caught your attention. His back was turned to you and you could admire his broad shoulders and muscular back.

Joel turned around and smiled warmly when he saw you.

"Hey… Did you sleep well?"

You frowned, wondering if maybe you were sleeping. You ignored his question and sat down at the kitchen table.

"What happened?"

Joel sighed, the smile disappearing from his face when he noticed that you weren't happy at all.

"You fell asleep… You slept so soundly that my attempts to wake you up were useless. I moved you to the bedroom, brought your things, slept on the couch, and… Now I'm making you breakfast."

You snorted, wondering if he was serious.

"You're making me breakfast? Wow. Where did you get the idea that I wanted that? Where did you get the idea that I wanted you to stay here for the night."

Joel cocked his head to the side as if he didn't even understand what you were saying.

"But… I thought that… We… You…"

You felt irritation rising within you.

"That what? That I forgave you because you fucked me? No, Joel… I just needed it, that's all."

Joel felt like you hit him in the chest with something heavy. Yes, he knew he deserved it. He nodded and looked at you sadly.

"Do you want me to…"

"To come back to Texas. Now."

You were a little afraid that Joel would start arguing with you, that maybe he would say something that would hurt you, but… He just walked to the couch, gathered his things, put on his jacket, and then walked up to you and kissed your head. He took you completely by surprise and you couldn't even push him away.

"Let me know if you need anything, I'll fly to you… And remember that I'm waiting for you. And I will wait as long as you need."

When he left, you realized you had been holding your breath the whole time. You took a shaky breath and felt tears streaming down your cheeks. You couldn't move. You looked at the cup of coffee and cheese toast that Joel had left on the counter. You wrapped your arms around yourself and allowed yourself more tears. *

A/N 1) Before you comment, please bear in mind that I want to show that depression sometimes comes in many forms. Depressed people are prone to dangerous behavior, such as sex with strangers. Unfortunately, I myself found out in the past that physical pain brought me relief from mental pain. If some people are dissatisfied with the reader's behavior, I'm sorry, but no one is forcing you to continue reading.

2) I watched scenes from episode 6 hundreds of times and concluded that Joel is an emotional orphan. Joel cannot express his own feelings, so he adapts to the feelings of others. In the first conversation with Tommy (the one in the bar), Tommy is a bit pushy, tense, and rough, and… Joel reacts with exactly the same emotions. In their second conversation, Tommy shows much more empathy, compassion, and calm, he is more open, so Joel opens up to him. In turn, in a conversation with Ellie, who attacks him (which, by the way, is normal for teenagers), Joel obviously takes on her emotions. And that's why when Y/N throws herself at him and encourages him to have rough sex, he naturally picks up on her lack of control and unbalanced attitude.

Part 2

Part 4

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