#and i have been unable to complete something for far too long.

[junedenim]

2012

beneath the boardwalk, part 10 (series masterlist)

why'd you only call me when you're high?

warnings: a whole lot of angst, temptation, nostalgia, and nothing

word count: 10.4k

Squished between two couch cushions watching Real Housewives, I got a call from Alex. "Did I wake you?" He questioned. It was late or early depending on who you asked. I had been woken up from a cold I was suffering from. He had never gone to bed.

"No, no, I'm just sitting around, suffocating," I complained. His voice was rough, but not thick with phlegm like mine. He chuckled in a rhythmic format, beat after beat. He sounded like he was sinking into himself, his flesh turning to goo. I heard his lips smack together as if he was chewing on a piece of hay. I coughed, the harshness reaching him miles and miles away. "You alright?"

"Yeah." I think he was chewing gum. "Just got home."

I hummed with understanding. "Did you have a nice night?"

He made a noise of indifference. "How long you been sick?"

"Two days now and it's not getting any better." I sniffled and stuffed a tissue up my nostril, thankful that I lived alone. "Think I caught it at a New Year's Party. I'm worried I have mono."

"Why? You've been kissing a bunch of people?" His words hung in the middle of us. Both of us moving on from one another had been unspoken. We were still on a break for all intents and purposes, even if he was with Arielle. Another thing we never talked about. 

I gave the best laugh I could do without coughing. "It's supposed to be good luck. I also ate 12 grapes and banged bread against the wall."

"Did you really?" He amusingly asked.

"No, well, not the bread part." I sighed. "Now, I'm just sitting on the couch watching shitty reruns. I can't fall back asleep."

"Neither can I," he said.

I hesitated and curled up under my blanket. "Is that why you called me at 4 in the morning?" I said it with a laugh to ease any tensions that may arise.

"It's only 1 here."

"Right. I forgot about the time difference." It didn't seem right for him to be so far away permanently. None of this seemed like the correct order of things. It was a misalignment but there could be no corrective measure.

"Yeah, I kind of did too." There was a pause like he was thinking things over. Like he might have had something to say but now he couldn't find it. "I'll let you go then." In more ways than one.

*

Alex was a cloud. He was away on tour, far away and out of reach. We talked less but not intentionally. We both just got really busy and we didn't need each other for that constant contact anymore. I was plummeting toward the wildest time of my life and he was up to his usual unable-to-contact schedule. Somewhere in Australia first then opening for The Black Keys. Plus, he had Arielle.

The new girlfriend thing didn't bug me much, at least, not in the form of jealousy. It was a strange thing. I hadn't fully adjusted to the idea but it was much easier when he was nowhere near my life. If it had happened when we were younger, I think I would've punished myself for it, but I had grown into a far lighter figure who understood not everyone was trying to make a mark against me. Alex was living his own life, which for the past few years had been dedicated to one person. It was "seeing what else was out there."

I was alone for the most part. I saw Jackson nearly every day, whether for work or leisure, but I was getting used to being alone for long grasps of time. I spent time writing in my notebook like the old days. A therapy session that I locked away in a drawer. I rotted in my room for days. I watched all of The Sopranos, practiced the splits, and thought about getting a cat. It was winter and a very boring time.

But around the end of January, I did my first interview. It was small and nothing huge, but it was talking about my work in-depth for the first time with a stranger. I pretended I was talking to Alex.

Alex and I didn't stop talking completely. I called him on his birthday, briefly, and we had a long chat toward the end of January where we caught up with one another. Neither of us had much to tell. He had been touring. I had been crawling around New York doing next to nothing, besides book matters and talking about my "marketability."

Alex laughed at this. "Yeah, they tend to do that. Try to whittle you down to one trait."

"It's making me feel insecure." I laughed at it but it felt small inside me, burning its way out.

Alex hummed in agreement. "Well, at least you're not a pimple-ridden kid doing it."

It wasn't something he talked about much. He hated people giving him attention, yet he was in a career that commanded eyes to be focused on him. It was one of our many skimmed-over conversations. In some ways, it made me feel like I didn't know Alex. We both hid parts of ourselves from one another and knew that the other did this. That burning curiosity we used to have probably went out once we started to live with one another. You know someone for long enough that it begins to feel like you know every inch of them. I slept with him night after night but I wondered if I ever knew what was ticking on in his head before he fell asleep. What was he thinking when he sat outside with a closed notebook? Why did he turn away?

I didn't even know why I turned away. I wrote repeatedly in my notebook, questioning why I couldn't make it work with Alex. I resisted jumping into a relationship because of that. If I couldn't make it work with Alex then it probably wouldn't work with anyone, especially during that portion of my life. I didn't know what it meant to be alone, like really alone.

I deflected a lot. I even deflected earlier in this book. I was devastated by the loss of Alex and I don't think it hit me until much later because I always had an anvil weighing on the back of my head telling me it wasn't over. Arielle complicated those ideals and I think for a while I was on my back unable to regain upright status. I was flailing.

That's why I paused. When 2012 hit, I was forced into a corner. I felt distant from who I was but still so far away from who I was becoming. I felt like I was the roots of the tree that had been cut down. I was left to be a stump.

One night, over a joint, I told Jackson I didn't feel British. Jackson, a Californian boy through and through, did not understand this. He laughed from the high while the smoke just made me more disoriented. He told me that I was "perfectly British." To me, that sounded like some marketing strategy. That's what the book would be marketed as—a British girl coming to America; her cold skin meeting the California sun. It made me hate the book. Or I hated myself, the lines were blurring.

I thought I had grown away from forms of jealousy. I have just previously insisted to you that I experienced no feelings of envy toward Arielle...but I did. It was ignored and then it couldn't be. The "R U Mine?" music video featured Arielle and a "new" Alex. I'm not a fan of the insinuation Alex suddenly changed after we broke up, besides his hair and fresh Sheffield tattoo, I would come to know Alex was exactly the same. Alex never quite changes. He's always been suave. It's hard to take a 20-year-old as seriously as a 25-year-old, especially when he is still pimple-ridden.

I found my jealousy toward Arielle in regard to "R U Mine?" was the same as when Alex showed me "Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts" because, honestly, since then Alex's only explicit romantic muse (the word makes me want to barf, but that's what I was) was me. It's the weird thing of being with a writer, especially with personal subjects. It's beautiful when it's for you but then you realize that it was never really for you. It was about you. Alex didn't write a song to make me feel loved. He wrote a song because he liked writing songs.

Unknowingly, I always felt that. It's why I didn't swoon every time I heard "Mardy Bum." I loved it as a song but it didn't feel like a love letter. I felt Alex's love in far different ways. As the years went on, I would find love letters in songs, but at the center, I found his love in crevices: a note from college, a smoke outside a pub, a cooked meal, folded laundry—god, I sound old.

But his love wasn't restricted to those songs. Just as my love isn't restricted to this tome. This is a love letter in pieces for Alex but it's also for my youth. I found around this time, I began to reflect on those early years. Nearly 10 years out from 2003, I became a preservationist. I jotted down my memory of my first conversation with Alex. I tucked it away in my drawer, no use for it yet.

*

Alex called me on my birthday. He wasn't too far away, somewhere between Portland and Boston on a bus. It was late with only an hour left to my birthday, which I had spent drinking with friends. It was a rather simple birthday. It could've been just another night, minus the cake (red velvet with frosted flowers on top of it) that Fennel and Kaka purchased for me.

Alex texted me in the morning. Something akin to Hey. Happy birthday. Al.

It was formal and if it didn't make me laugh so much I think I'd be hurt by it. But Alex always texted like that as if he was penning a letter. The letter was awfully short but it was sent at 4 AM, which made me believe he either had no sleep or had just woken up.

I was expecting more and I got more. When I was drunk.

"Hi," I said, shoving the phone to my ear as a subway train came roaring by.

He chuckled, hearing the noise. "Hi." He waited for it to pass fully before continuing, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Did you spend it good?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty drunk."

"Alright, then, I won't keep you long."

"No," I insisted. "Stay on the phone with me." I was pleading. I didn't want to let go of him. "At least, until I'm home." I wasn't far away but I lied and acted like I was further away, keeping him on the line with me, even as we lost connection at various times.

"Sorry I didn't get you anything," he said halfway through the subway ride.

"I didn't get you anything,” I reminded him.

"Yeah. Feels weird."

We hummed in silence because we both knew how abnormal this was. We weren't friends. Alex and I were never friends. Nothing ever went away or could ever go away. We were struggling to redefine what we were. We could never disentangle from one another. It pulled us back toward one another, even when we shouldn't have.

"I was going to get you that, uh, milkshake maker so you wouldn't have to pay extra at Morgenstern's for one." I didn't know a person could get so emotional over a milkshake maker that they would feel like crying on the F train. I might be the only person ever.

It was such a stupid gift. I would probably get two uses out of the machine before it broke and it wouldn't be as good as Morgenstern's makes theirs and it would go to waste. Still, I can imagine if he did get it for me. How after I unwrapped it we would go to Morgenstern's and get a pint of ice cream and Alex would make me a milkshake. One just for me. If I was feeling generous enough, we'd share the straw.

None of this would have happened, even if we were together. He'd still be in between Portland and Boston and I'd still be riding the F, wishing he was with me. It was comforting that maybe I had done the right thing, even if it felt so hard.

"Well, you can get it for me for Christmas."

He laughed and said, "Okay."

*

Black leather loafers with black wool flannel trousers. A white poplin shirt, two buttons loose at the top and at the bottom. I had a black corduroy jacket that Jackson held for me. I felt like I was dressing up in my mother's clothes. I was doing book press. It was an unfitting experience but I held the hardcover book in my hand. It felt unnatural but I liked my authour's photo.

By that point, I was so far removed from the contents of the book. I started to second-guess it even coming out. It felt like my diary, even if it was evasive at times and cut out the personal from that time (Alex is not mentioned once, not even as the person I moved to LA for). Still, it was exposing, but it was real now and it was sitting in my hand.

Alex came to town a week later, opening for The Black Keys. I didn't see the show—things were getting too busy by that point. I asked Alex if we could meet for a quick lunch and he accepted.

We met at Westville, a cute restaurant, but by no means romantic. I felt a need for that to be clear. I worried about Arielle worrying that I was trying to "steal" Alex or whatever that meant. I don't think she ever did. After all, she had the guy and I was resigned with no longer having the guy. It wasn't the bitch fight it has been imagined to be.

I waited for Alex outside the restaurant, smoking a cigarette to achieve my all-time high of cigarettes per day (this was not a good year for my lungs). I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I wanted to look cool but relaxed. I wore the previously mentioned black loafers to make it look like I didn't roll out of bed and throw some jeans on.

Alex wore the same thing: jeans, T-shirt, loafers...and a leather jacket. It was a hotter March day when spring was beginning to peek through and relieve the bitterness of winter. He was across the street stuck at a streetlight and I waved to him and he waved back. Then, we just stared at each other, waiting for the light to turn green.

He crossed, said hi, and hugged me. Every move was made with slight awkwardness. We hadn't been alone together since he moved out. "Have you been waiting long?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Got here early, just for a smoke. Do you want to go in now?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He bobbed his head.

I put my cigarette out and he followed me into the restaurant. "Your hair is back to normal." My natural brown. It was better for me to not play pretend when promoting a book about my own life.

"Yours isn't," I commented. It came off snarkier than I wanted it to.

He shrugged and smiled to ease the thick fat of awkwardness. "Yeah, well, you know." He didn't say it but this was the new normal for him, which was fine, but it was different from what I knew. When I dreamed about him or pictured him, it was still with a curling mop top or, you know, just the mop if I was dreaming of '09.

"Tattoo too," I added.

"Yeah."

"You're a changed man."

"Yeah."

Our heads ducked down and we stared at the menus in silence. It was a challenge of who would speak first—seriously speak, not those little comments over what looks good.

After we ordered, I said, "Sorry I'm not able to go tonight."

He waved me off. "You've already been to too many shows. Don't worry."

"Well, I like going. It feels weird not to go."

"Yeah." Somewhere in that word, I knew what he meant. It had been years since Alex had the ability to spot people in the crowd, but he told me once that there was a comfort in knowing I was somewhere in there, that even if he messed up, there would always be someone there at the end of it all. I wonder if he was still getting used to someone else being at the end of it all.

He sipped his water to cut off the look on his face. I decided to cut to the fat of it. "I, uh, have something to give you."

"Why do I feel like it's something bad?" He cracked a laugh, lifting the air in the room.

I picked up my bag. "I hope not."

I dug through my things slowly. It was held in my hands but I still had to catch my breath before I lifted it out. I saw a squint on his face as he tried to imagine what it was. I passed it across the table and his hands took it. That is when it all started to feel real; seeing his eyes land on it, his hands run down its spine with him smiling. "It's a first edition," I joked.

He raised an eyebrow, flipping it open. "Is it signed?" I laughed. I'm not sure what made me happier: him holding my book or joking around with him again. He opened the other end of the book. "Good author photo."

"I'm quite happy with it." Somewhere in that bittersweetness, I did feel content. It was never how I imagined him holding my first book. Parts of me were swallowed with sorrow that I would never experience this in the way I wanted—a desperate romantic lovemaking all-consuming kind of way—but there were small parts in me that were happy that we could still have this. I don't know if we kept dragging things out this would have been as joyous. That this would have felt like closure.

Alex looked up, meeting my eyes. A small smile played on his lips. The kind that can't be faked in any way. It was real and from the hurt. It was that pride he always had in me. The pride that kept me going for far longer than I'd ever imagined. I wrote the book, but he made the book. I never would've written anything close to it without him. I'd probably be stuck fucking Robert in London if it wasn't for him. It was my reassurance to him that he didn't have to make up for the sudden move to LA as he constantly tried to do. He wasn't in the book, but he was the book. It's why I dedicated it to him. It's why on the last page of his edition of the book I wrote: Don't make fun of me, Al. Thank you for this. I hope you know why. Love, Jane C.

I questioned the "love" part. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable but it would have been far more awkward to write something like "sincerely." I wasn't one for lying, especially about my love for Alex. It was something layered. It didn't rest in that romantic love. He wasn't just my boyfriend and he wasn't just my best friend. It's hard for a writer to find the word. It's nudged somewhere in this book. In all these little words.

"I wanted you to be the first to have it," I said. "Well, one of the first. Wanted to see the look on your face."

He looked back down at the book. Mild disbelief spread across his face as he looked back and forth between the book and me. "Thanks." He wasn't sure what else to say. He rolled everything around and looked as if he was choking on the bone of a chicken.

"It's been a little weird these past few months," I said while picking at my fingernails, an assured sign to Alex that I was referring to us. "I don't want it to feel weird. So, don't cry or anything," I joked.

He chuckled, dislodging the lump. He flipped the book over one more time before placing it on the table. "I'll try not to. I knew you could do it." He stared right at me, emphasizing every little syllable. The awkwardness faded from him and he leaned onto the table. His smile was small but bright. I could find a million different meanings in it, each meaning just as much.

"I know you did. You always did," I told him. "I had this dream last night. It was weird and blurry but we were driving around Sheffield or some weird ghost thing was driving us. It's hard to describe. I don't know. I think it was a sign or something. I'm not sure of what but just those early days of us talking. That's when I really started to write. I suppose my mind was thinking about this lunch and conjured up some old memories."

He smiled at me the whole time, eyes never leaving me, even when I glanced away. "Well, I had a dream that I was one of the animals left off of Noah's Ark, so, you tell me what that means."

I told him it had something to do with his fear of being left behind and he rolled his eyes and said I was trying to be Freud. Lunch came and we ate and laughed and agreed to split the check. He told me he would read the whole book tonight if he could. We hugged goodbye and he whispered in my ear, "I'll send you a proper review."

A few days later, Alex emailed me. It was long. Very long and detailed like he had taken a note on every page. He pulled the sentences he liked the most out, which turned out to be about half the book. I would later write back and ask what that meant for the other half of the book. He said they were left off Noah's Ark too. Continuing his initial email, Alex wrote at the bottom:

You did it. I hope you feel that too. Thank you, Al.

*

I had a book tour. A minimal one since there wasn't the highest of expectations and I didn't want to go to Omaha, Nebraska. So, there was Boston, New York, Atlanta, Chicago, Houston, and Los Angeles. I hated the whole thing. I always wanted to go to these places but I wasn't really going to these places. We lingered in Chicago at the end of July, but it was the equivalent of touring with Alex, except this time I was Alex.

I've never enjoyed talking about my work either but it was nice that people thought it was nice. But that part still felt awkward to me too. Like, people actually read this??? It eased up as it went along. It was a short tour anyway. I wasn't going to Tokyo or anything.

I thought about myself a lot. It was a little lonely but I had adapted to that. Jackson was my only company on the road and it was easy for us to get sick of one another. We had both grown bored with one another, both slightly exhausted from these months so closely intertwined. I thought about Al, often. I thought about myself, often.

Could it be possible that I did everything right? No. I never thought that but I didn't think I did everything wrong. I had cracks in the surface of me and guts that spilled out. I said everything with my pen but nothing with my lips. I hid myself under the disguise of a freshly lonesome girl who knew the only means to move on was to forget. But I didn't forget anything, only myself, just for a little. Pieces of me dropped on the side of the highway. We drove for days and I found no meaning in it, only wondering did he feel like this all the time? How did he bear this loss of self?

I asked myself questions and never got any answers. I felt everything but there was never any meaning in it. There were closed-off vessels, no means to transport blood or oxygen, yet, I was still moving. I suppose that was the only thing left to cling to. I still had the memory of it and those never made me sad. I experienced it. How fortunate was I to be cracked open and exposed to this impenetrable love? I still felt it. We were both on the end of the same wire. It was bent and twisted, knots made to keep strong but disrupt transmission. No love lost. Just changed. I know good comes from change. I didn't feel the goodness but I could taste it coming. So much else was happening. I would hate myself forever for wasting those precious few days of enjoyment in place of a relationship that didn't need nourishment anymore. It was about me. I wanted it to be about me for so long and it finally was. Don't waste it.

The mini-tour ended in LA at the start of August. Summer had whipped me in the face so hard I forgot the season even existed, until I was stuck in the sweaty, SoCal heat, dying for a drop of water. The first night—the day before the Q&A and book signing—Jackson and I got dinner and drinks with Opal.

It was nice to let loose after feeling so pinned up for most of the summer. The liquor soothed my sunburnt skin and I decided the tour as a whole wasn't too bad—I was about 3 drinks in at this point. Then, after another drink, I texted Alex telling him I was in town. The last we chatted was a week or so before when the band opened for the London Olympics. I watched it later on YouTube and told him he did a bang-up job. He told me he nearly shat himself.

Alex had returned to LA since. The city had become his permanent home since the tour had ended. He bought a house out here and everyone in the band, for the most part, had relocated too. So, in my drunken state, I told him I was there and we should hang before I went back to New York.

When I woke up, it was an embarrassing text of I'm in LA, AL. Even in my drunken state, I wrote with proper grammar. Alex wrote back, Come on over. This was in the early hours of the day so he must have been up by some similar means too.

The following night, I panicked. I wondered if this is what single people felt like all the time. Prior to this, I had never faced intimidation when hanging out with Alex, except maybe when I was 17 and that type of thing could be labelled as teenage anxiety. But, no, this was a thing that would plague me the rest of my dating life and I wasn't even going on a date with him. Alex is the only "ex" I had stayed in contact with up to that point. Most of my friends didn't do this type of thing either, at least not Opal who lived by the mentality that once people were gone they were gone forever.

Half my anxiety came from the limited wardrobe out of my suitcase but considering it was just dinner and a dinner that would be had with the other bandmates and the girlfriends, there should've been no pressure. I wouldn't have told you this at the time, I barely want to write it down now, but the nerves I felt weren’t because of Alex, they were because of Arielle. Part of me wanted to be conceived as a non-threat. I was over those days. The other part of me—the stronger part—wanted her to be jealous of me and question why Alex and I ever broke up. I wasn't fully-formed yet. 

The two sides fought and then I just settled on jeans and a tank top because it was boiling outside and I was having drinks at Al's place, not the Windsors. Luckily, I showed up after Jamie and Katie so I thought of using Katie as a shield. I didn't accept Katie and Arielle to be talking though. The word traitor crossed through my brain and then I thought I must be regressing to my college days when Rosie and Will would feel each other up in front of me. Arielle was nice and I was probably an anxious bitch.

So, I hugged both of them as Alex came into the living room. He was staggering, dressed casually beside his uniform slicked hair. "Hey there," he greeted. He was calm, not an awkward bone in his body. He knew he had the upper hand. We were on his home turf with his hot girlfriend and I was a single mess who had been on plane after plane and stunk of cigarettes.

The room was hot with sweat dripping off every surface it seemed. The air conditioner was running but the flaming air came rushing in with the swing of the front door as Matt and Breana entered. The room became distracted by them, both looking darling. I hugged each of them, distracting myself in their grasp.

Arielle had lit candles for the dining table. It was the only thing formal about the informal event. The house itself was rather bare. Alex never carried much, I was always the one with the shit. 

Alex tapped my arm. "You want a drink?"

"What do you have?" I asked.

He waved his arm and I followed him to the kitchen, isolating ourselves. "Beer, wine, tequila, vodka, all the fixings. I can make you something if you'd like. Margarita?"

"Anything non-alcoholic?" Alcohol would ease my nerves but it would lead to my loud mouth and I couldn't afford that tonight.

He looked bewildered. "Who are you?" He joked.

We kept our distance. I pushed my hair behind my shoulder. "Got real drunk with Opal and Jackson last night. Figured I'd keep it clean. At least for now."

"Right then. Iced tea?"

He knew me well. I laughed at his smile and agreed to this. I moved closer to the refrigerator to just feel the cold air on my skin. He poured the glass, leaving the door open for me. I chugged the coldness like it was the elixir of life. It felt like my lungs re-inflated when the liquid dispersed and his eyes looked at mine again, so clearly over that fogged-up glass. Wet brown eyes into my baby blues and it felt like he might reach out and snatch them out of my eyes and keep them for himself. He always liked them. He has a thing for blue eyes.

We talked around the dining table, eating a mix of something Arielle had cooked and pizza. I had the pizza. Everyone talked loosely about things I had no knowledge of. Jokes about LA and all these people I had no concept of. I suppose if they had come to New York it would have been similar, except they all shared this with one another.

The sweet Breana turned the attention onto me, which partially made me shrink and revel in the joy of being included. "Oh, Jane, I loved the book!" Everyone chanted in similar sentiments all at once.

I laughed and took a bite of my pizza crust. "You didn't all read it," I laughed.

"I read parts of it," Jamie said. They were all sweet but I'm unsure how often any of them even had the chance to pick up a book, let alone their best friend's ex-girlfriend. Because that's what I was now. That was my title.

Alex looked at me. I could hear my mother's words ringing through his lips so I smiled and said, "Thank you."

"Disappointed I wasn't in it more," Matt said. "You know if it wasn't for me the book would've never been made." The long story of it has made that true but I can't give Matt credit for everything, it might go to his head too much.

"How's that?" Arielle asked. Everything shifted after that. We could all tell that she had been the wrong one to ask that question. Whether she was clueless and curious or was trying to make a dig at Alex, I wasn't sure, but I felt like an imposition being there. I didn't feel like an out-of-town friend. I felt like an ex-girlfriend.

Nobody spoke so I spoke. "Matt introduced me and Alex." I sipped my drink to wash down any other awkwardness.

Everyone seemed awkward other than Arielle. She quickly nodded and said, "Oh, yeah, Al told me that." I wondered why everyone else was so stiff when Arielle didn't seem to have much of a problem with it. Why should she when she looked like that?

I felt frumpy and had to pee badly from all the iced tea I had drank but I was too scared to go to the bathroom and see her things mixed with Alex's things. I could leave there with ambiguity and the belief that Alex didn't move on so quickly and I was stuck being alone.

"That was our first gig," Matt said. He seemed to relax, always the person to slice through any amount of tension. "Almost 10 years ago now."

"What was it like?" Arielle asked.

"Awful," Alex said. His eyes pointed toward me. "Right?"

"I don't know. I never reviewed it, remember?" He laughed and it felt inappropriate to display this inside language in front of everyone. "It feels weird that I'm the only one here who watched it." Even if that had been the case for many years, it had been a while since we all gathered around in a circle and talked about those days.

"I wasn't even there," Nick remarked. The room buckled with chuckles.

I laid my forehead against the palm of my hand resting against the table. "God," I said, "I spent that whole show with Will’s hand on my ass and Joanie screaming in my ear."

"Oh, god, Joanie," Matt muttered.

"Oh, god, Will," Jamie cracked.

"She got married last month," I told them. She had invited me but I was in the middle of the tour. We talked about once a year and everything was always nice. The only time I would've had the chance of running into her was when Alex and I visited Sheffield and that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Bless that man's heart," Matt quipped.

I shook my head. "No, she seems to have settled down in the last few years. I guess we all did. Seems so long ago."

"It was," Alex said. "We're getting old, Janie." His silence punctured the air. My lungs felt like they were deflating. He poured himself another glass.

Things grew looser and looser. They rattled off stories of LA, I rattled off stories from the road. Arielle excused herself to bed, citing an early morning. Her bed was upstairs.

Each couple left one by one until Alex and I awkwardly remained. I figured then I should leave. He walked me to the door with a freshly poured glass in his hand. "Hope I didn't keep you up too late," I said because I wasn't sure what else to say. It reminded me of what my parents said to each other after a fight. It was the one thing they clung to in order to keep their marriage somehow working.

He shook his head and sipped. "No, no. It's fine. You're always good company."

I shrugged. The whole thing kind of felt awkward, at least with him. I could laugh with Matt and throw my arm around Katie, even hug Arielle good night, but whenever my eyes landed on Alex, I tensed up so tightly I knew I'd be sore the next day. "If you're ever in New York or whatever."

He nodded and smiled. He would be visiting his old apartment. I wondered how that would make him feel. Was it the same when I walked into his house and noticed different shoes by the door than mine? Would the emptiness of his presence leave him uneasy? "I'd like that," Alex said.

"Thanks for having me." We reached the door and the end of the night but we stayed awkwardly staring at each other.

"Course. Text me when you're back at the hotel and safe and all that." He was drunk, rambling with an incapability of holding his tongue.

I smiled. "I will."

I didn't know whether to hug him or not. He leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn't affectionate. It was a peck. The kind my mother used to give me when left for school in the morning. Of course, she was my mother and I was 7 and Alex was drunk and I was, well, awkward. 

I said, "Night," and turned away. We never talked about it because there was nothing to talk about. It very well could have been a kiss on the cheek just like I gave Katie and Breana before they left. Of course, that was Katie and Breana and this was Alex—no longer mine.

*

Rain pattered against the window. Jackson and I returned to New York a week prior and we were now sitting in my apartment, drinking, and about to call Opal to join us. I felt dizzy and Jackson looked sleepy. It had been a long month.

"So," he said, "what's next?"

I finished off my glass. "What do you mean?" The year felt empty as the cold was beginning to creep into my summer warmth. 2012 was a bumpy year where so much yet so little happened. I was growing sick of my apartment because no matter how rid it was of Alex, he still had a whole life with me here. When I returned to it after the book tour, I was ready to move on.

Jackson placed his arm on the back of the couch. The tips of his fingers softly poked at my shoulder. "Now it's time to think about the next book."

I tossed my head back with a groan. "Gimme a break."

He chuckled and placed his empty glass on the end table. "No rush. For now."

I sat up straight, finishing off my glass, and growing more and more serious every day. "Thanks for doing this for me, Jackson."

He nodded. "My pleasure."

"I feel kind of empty," I confessed.

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I didn't feel like explaining it. I was growing tired of doing that with people. My stomach ached and I pushed Alex out of my mind. I felt that I had sacrificed our relationship for this success, even if it wasn't true. I thought I would have been over it by that time of year. It had been over a year. But it still felt so unnatural for him to feel so far removed from my life. Every word we spoke felt tinged with sadness and I didn't want it to feel that way. I wanted to move on.

I kissed Jackson. He kissed back. We never called Opal.

*

Jackson and I started dating in a casual way. We were exclusive to one another and treated each other as a boyfriend and girlfriend would but I suppose my association with dating was always a far deeper connection. I wasn't alone in this. Jackson had long-term girlfriends prior to me. He was older than me, not by some outrageous amount. He was born in 1979, seven years older, but I was 26 and 33 didn't feel so far off.

Opal loved it. She felt like the ultimate matchmaker and wanted to be both the maid of honor and the best man. My New York crew loved him. Fennel and Kaka found him to be rich in conversation. He liked going out more than Alex but then again most people liked going out more than Alex. Except more and more it seemed Alex enjoyed the going out part. (I was taken but I was still a snooping ex-girlfriend).

I didn't tell Alex. It felt awkward to call him up and tell him I got a new boyfriend. I decided to tell him when I saw him again, which didn't come up. He was in Los Angeles. I was in New York. We didn't talk very often either. I think I called him once in October because I couldn't remember the name of a restaurant we went to (he didn't remember either). 

Other than that, there wasn't much reason to talk. We had completely separate lives. But I was aware of what he was up to. I wasn't cyber-stalking him much anymore (only on nights when I was wildly intoxicated). I talked to Katie occasionally and texted Breana from time to time. Things about Alex would slip through the cracks and get to me but the majority of it was just that they were recording their new album.

We had both moved on. Or we were both pretending we did. At least I was pretending, in some form. I thought about him all the time. I didn't feel like a day went by when I didn't think about him. It wasn't in some romantic longing way. I had shared a life with him from such a young age and to be forced apart from it felt unnatural. There were so many jokes and stories that went untold because no one would get it but him.

When I went back home for the holidays, I confided this to my mother. I don't know why, maybe because of what she had told me so many years ago in Florida. I don't know if my mother ever actually liked Alex so I figured if she said awful things about him it would make me feel better. Of course, she didn't.

"It goes away," she said. "One day, you wake up and you're numb to it. You just get numb to it in the end, Jane. All those people you hated and loved turn to nothing. Even the ones you still want to love. You'll be thankful for it when the day comes that you don't feel anything anymore."

I frowned and my mother left me on the couch to fetch another bottle of wine. In retrospect, my mother was suffering from mental illness, but I was oblivious to that because I had grown oblivious to most of my mother's behavior. I just didn't want to engage with it anymore. Maybe part of me was numb toward her.

I didn't want to feel nothing. I couldn't imagine not feeling anything for Alex, even if we remained friends for the rest of our lives. I had tethered so much sentimentality toward him, he might as well have been a knick-knack on my shelf. Letting go of him would be letting go of an entire part of myself. I was content if that part only came out once a year when I saw him but I couldn't let go of it forever.

*

Joanie was having a baby. She likely got pregnant on her honeymoon. Someone my age having a child felt unnatural. I pictured Joanie being a teen mum, not a 26-year-old pregnant woman. She invited me to the baby shower taking place right after Christmas. It was ideal timing since all her closest friends would be in town or, like me, the country.

I debated going but decided that since I missed the wedding the least I could do was go to the baby shower. So, I drove the Beetle up to Wakefield. I figured it would be a mini-reunion. The only one I had seen as of late was Claire, who lived in Bristol now, and I hadn't seen since last winter.

We drove up together and listened to Radio 2 on full blast the whole way. I don't think I had ever felt more like a teenager even when I was a teenager. Claire continued her streak of always being a comfort for me. While other friends might be wedding and birthing, Claire had just ended her two-year-long relationship and gagged in her mouth at the thought of being a mother one day. 

It made me miss England so desperately. I forgot how much I ached to drive, which I hadn't done in years. The closest I had gotten to a car was the one taxi ride home drunk at 4 AM. And to drive on the left side of the road! I hadn't heard someone speak in a British accent since the dinner at Alex's. It eased my ears and made me wonder why I ever left, which just led to me thinking about Alex again.

Claire said, "I hate Alex, which sucks 'cause I like Alex." In a way, it summed up how conflicted I felt. Hate is a strong word but I was resentful for how everything went down. Then again, I probably didn't have much of a right.

Joanie's house was straight out of a picture book. I didn't know houses like that even existed in Wakefield. It wasn't fancy but at the sight of it, you'd call it a home. She had a little garden in the front that she said her husband grew herbs in that she used for cooking. It made Claire and I roll our eyes but we both desperately wanted that kind of companionship. If I ever would learn how to cook or grow plants, maybe that could be my life. I refused to do either, but it was a nice thought.

I bought Joanie—or Joanie's baby—these cozy fleece booties because that's what New York Magazine said to get. I never bought anything for a baby before (I got away with it two years ago during Harper's unmentioned pregnancy of my first nephew, Benjamin, by having my mother buy a gift for me) so I had no clue what to get. I bought Joanie this nice set of body washes that were her favourite when we were 17 with the hope that they either still were or she would feel nostalgic over them.

Claire and I ate a slice of cake and watched Joanie open her presents. Halfway through we turned to each other and decided we were going to go out drinking after. I love Joanie but oohing and awing over baby gifts with a bunch of women I barely knew got old quickly, especially incredibly sober and in the middle of the winter blues. The cake was good though.

The shower ended around 4 and while I was down to get hammered that early, Claire wanted to go out to lunch first. We ended up meeting up with AB at a pub. I hadn't seen AB since 2006 and I nearly cried at the sight of him all grown up. Claire and AB had broken up long ago but stayed in touch as good friends and if they could do it—two incredibly mature people—maybe Alex and I could too. 

AB's girlfriend of two years (and future wife), Shay, joined us as well. It almost made me barf how gorgeous they were together and I was shocked Claire wasn't fuming more over how beautiful Shay was. I was almost fuming over how beautiful Shay was!

AB sipped on a beer, which I don't think I had ever witnessed. He shared it was Shay and I swallowed down my drink at the painful thought that Alex and I once did things like that. I was such a sad sack. I thought about calling Jackson. Thank god I didn't.

We left the pub, hugging AB and Shay goodbye next to the Beetle. Claire and I were going to go back to the hotel to change out of our baby shower clothes and "hit the town.”

We waved goodbye to the couple and that's when I saw Alex with his mum. I turned my back to him and grabbed Claire's arm. "I think I'm gonna vomit."

She looked at me completely puzzled. "What? Why?"

I was so freaked out by the sight of him. I think the unexpected nature of it threw me off-balanced. I had never been that unnerved by the sight of him. My head felt like my brain was about to burst out of my ears. "Get in the car," I harshly muttered to her.

She was still unaware but she raced around the side of the car to get into the passenger seat. We bolted out of there before he crossed the street.

*

It was midnight when I called him. I was definitely drunk, but not wasted, standing outside a club smoking while Claire chatted up with some guy inside. I was freezing and felt so childish for doing it, even in the moment, but I wanted to see him. It shouldn't feel right that I was here and he wasn't.

"Hello." His voice was clear so he hadn't been sleeping. I wonder if he was in bed (with Arielle).

I swallowed whatever dignity I had left and let the rest loose. "Hey. I'm in Wakefield for Joanie's baby shower 'cause apparently we're old enough to have children now and now I'm out with Claire at a club. We drove up together from Bath, well, Bristol for her, Bath for me, but you know that. Jesus. I saw you earlier today and raced into my car because I was so scared by the sight of you, which made me realize I'm not as mature as I thought I was. And it was just after we went to lunch with AB and Shay and Claire and AB still get along like they didn't have this romantic relationship and I know that we get along too but I raced to my car and nearly shit myself. Now, I'm outside a club smoking in the middle of winter because I apparently regress back to teenage tendencies when I'm in Yorkshire or maybe just England in general. Anyway, I'm drunk and I'm thinking this was stupid and it probably is but I know you're probably laughing at me right now but I'm freezing my ass off and I can't figure out how to get back inside the club and Claire isn't answering her phone, which means she's probably shagging someone or something and I wouldn't want to interrupt that, you know, and I probably should just get a cab back to the hotel but I called you for some reason. Well, not for some reason because I'm drunk. Okay, now you talk."

I was out of breath and sure I had just lost my mind. I need another shot of tequila. I felt I was growing too sober to face the repercussions of this. I took a drag of my cigarette and listened to his breathing on the other end of the line.

I could hear his smile. I still had a knack for that kind of thing. "I saw you too, you know."

I slapped my forehead and thought about slamming my head into the brick wall until it broke my skull and my brain gushed out. "Did it look like we were being held at gunpoint?"

He chuckled lowly. "A little. But I must've looked like someone pointed a gun at me. I'd recognize that car anywhere, Janie."

I didn't know what to say. My car was such a sensitive topic for both of us. It was the cornerstone (ha) of our relationship, especially for the car to be returned to its rightful county. I thought I'd feel weird driving it but everything felt right like it was a complete homecoming. Like nature had found its way and every piece fell perfectly into the puzzle.

"I thought I would be grown up by now," I confessed.

He suppressed a laugh. "I like you this way. Makes me feel less alone."

"How so?"

He waited, not wanting to fully let the truth go but it was me he was talking to. There wasn't much point in lying. "I've called you in various states of intoxication too."

"Not after running to your car," I pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure I'll do it one of these days." It was a silence but a vibration rang across the line to one another. Call it a vibe or a wavelength or just a feeling, but I could feel him like he was standing right next to me. "Where are you?"

It was so embarrassing I laughed. "Che & Coco." It was Barnsley College's resident bar and nightclub. The average age of the crowd was barely 20 and I felt like such a loser trying to claim that nostalgia is what made me want to club there.

"Geez, you really are down bad." His laughter rang through the phone and I nearly hung up due to how beet red my face was. He laughed and laughed. I could picture him with his hands on his knees, walking home from Will's house, unable to breathe he was laughing so hard. Then, I couldn't breathe. "You want me to pick you up?"

I'd like that a lot but I couldn't take it. That was a bridge too far. "No, no. I'll just call a taxi or something. Maybe even walk. My hotel isn't that far."

"You're gonna walk in Barnsley at midnight? Hope you don't get hit with a beer bottle," he joked. That had happened to Will back in the day. I'm convinced it made him even dumber if that's possible.

"I've walked later than this in New York," I reasoned.

"Janie," he stopped me, "I'd like to see you if you won't run away from me."

I sighed. "I'll see you in 20. I'll be waiting on Peel." Because maybe I would like to see him too.

He pulled up in his mum's car. It wasn't her car from way back in the day but it made him feel sophomoric to me. His hair wasn't gelled up, instead falling around in tendrils of combed-back magic. He had a hoodie on and a smile on his face. He honked the horn of the car and I dashed across the street to his car.

The car was warm, at least warmer than outside where I had been suffering. I tugged my coat closer and put my seatbelt on. "Hi."

Alex smiled over at me. "Hi." He pulled back onto the road and I couldn't remember the last time he had driven me. "How've you been?"

I shrugged in his peripheral vision. "Fine. Christmas was fine. My dad bought me Slouching Toward Bethlehem."

Alex laughed. "About 10 years too late."

"Yeah, but at least he's trying. I can't remember the last time he bought me a gift." My mother handled all the presents, something she was rather good at, even if it always felt like she didn't know me.

We stopped at a red light. "I didn't get anything for you," he said while looking over at me.

"Well, I didn't get you anything either." First time in eight years. It didn't even cross my mind. "This is enough of a present anyway."

He nodded in agreement. "Good." I believed him. The nod of his head told me that this meant as much to me as it did to me. Drunk actions are sober thoughts and sometimes I just wanted to hear his voice.

We kept driving. I had yet to tell him any directions. He was headed the right way but I wouldn't have had the willpower to tell him anyway. I liked driving around with him. I liked just this. The vibration of the road beneath us and the scent of him washing over me. The slowness of Yorkshire and the heat of him beside me. It made everything feel right.

"Arielle come with you?"

He rubbed his eye. He looked tired. "Nah. She went to her parents’." I nodded and he waited, looking over at me. I stared at him blankly. He looked back at the road and kept the car moving. "What about, uh, Jackson?"

My head snapped toward him. "He's at his parents’." I picked at my nails. I didn't want to talk about this. Why did it feel like I was cheating on him? It felt like Alex had died and I was some widower trying to move on but his ghost was coming back to shame me.

"Katie mentioned something," he muttered.

"Yeah," I explained, "just a few months."

He nodded slowly. "He's a nice guy." I laughed out loud. He laughed too, for some reason. "What?"

I shook my head. "We don't have to talk about my boyfriend."

"Okay. We don't have to talk about Arielle." It was probably some form of cheating, emotionally. We gazed at one another and never acted on anything, but the aftertaste of it didn't feel right. But in the moment, everything had fallen perfectly into place.

We went nowhere and neither of us said a single thing about it. The drive from the club to my hotel was ten minutes. We drove around for an hour.

"Joanie's house is beautiful. It's like my dream house. It isn't big but it's not a cottage or anything. But it's quaint. She's got plants and I never thought Joanie could take care of a living thing and now she's gonna have a baby," I told him. I fiddled with the radio, even though we weren't gonna listen to it.

"Are you sure they aren't fake?" He joked. I chuckled and hit his shoulder. "Eh! Watch it. I'm driving here, missy."

I held my hands up as a defense. I eased them back down with a giggle and tugged on my seatbelt strap. "You know, I thought I'd have a baby by now."

He snorted. "No, you did not."

"At one point I did. I mean, back before you. Like when I was still playing with dolls." 

He laughed again and everything made sense. "Good thing you don't. You can't even keep a plant alive."

"They're not self-sufficient enough."

"And you think a baby will be easier?"

"Not anymore but at six I did! It was right around when Stacey was born. I took good care of her."

Alex felt warm with a smile. "You did." He was an only child but at times I felt he might consider her a sister too. She considered him a brother. He had been around since she was 11. She was only a little over a year away from graduating university. 

"Granted I didn't have to breastfeed her."

It was still dark outside but it felt like the sun was rising in that car. "You wouldn't be happy living Joanie's life."

"How do you know?" I questioned. "Maybe if I was settled I'd feel better."

Alex's jaw gaped. He breathed a laugh and I looked over at him curiously. "Jane, you'd be losing your mind. The whole time I knew you here, you were begging to get out of here."

"Maybe I had it all wrong."

He shook his head, never looking over at me, just driving. "You're a completely different person because you got out of here. You're gonna get all that stuff one day. The kid, the garden, whatever the fuck you want, but you'd never have what you have no if you stayed put. You always knew what you wanted. Your gut is always right. I've learned that."

I sighed and accepted he was right. "Grass is always greener, I guess."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I think you have the greenest grass. You're the one who's a bestseller."

I rolled my eyes and leaned on the center console. "She's the one with the husband and baby."

He scoffed, "So is half the world. You have a tough time being proud of your accomplishments."

I gasped. "Look who's talking. My god!"

Alex chuckled and it felt like food for my soul. Fertilizer to my soil to keep growing. "Fair enough. But be cocky every once and a while, Janie. You deserve it."

I took what he said to heart but ignored him. I wanted to talk about something else. I wanted to put my feet in his lap and ride to Charlton Brook. Instead, I leaned back and looked at him. "We used to talk about the future so much and now it's come and gone."

"You're not dead yet." But we were. I think that's what I really meant. All those things I had planned with him and I had to be content with letting them go. Watching those promises slip through my fingers. I had no right to feel that way but it's all I felt.

I wanted to tell him I loved him with the windows rolled down and the cold air rushing in because he used to let me do that. I believe that right had been revoked. "I missed it here." The truth was hidden in those words, in between the lines, deep in those letters, stuffed in between them.

He hummed, glancing over. "Me too. Everything feels a little simpler."

I heard the radio speaking, ringing some familiar tune that I couldn't think of the name. Maybe if it had been a little simpler and Alex and I stayed there forever, in the car ride between Wakefield and High Green, we'd have a house, a garden, a ring, a little thing on the way. 

But I would've missed out on a lot more. I would have missed out on a lot of Alex. How he was with his hair long in the middle of Joshua Tree, looking over at me instead of the night sky. How he made up our bed in our London studio apartment into a couch because we didn't have enough space for one. How he felt sitting next to me on the C train at 2 AM. How he felt in the dead of winter in Yorkshire, somehow ending up at my hotel with a hoodie I used to wear and a smile he still wears just for me.

I'll never know otherwise. And that's fine.

*

a/n: this was a struggle but i think it landed right in the end. much, much more to come.

[itssmeeeeee]

It was as though she was handing him exactly what he wanted out of getting to know her on a silver spoon, a golden platter of romance Smee couldn't have possibly imagined. It couldn't have possibly been because of his overly smooth-talking or abundance of charm that he'd gotten himself this far, but he really couldn't have imagined a more perfect scenario. From the way she posed it, it seemed Tink had something to get out of this, too: she had something to prove, whether to herself or someone unbeknownst to him. Shelly had spent months unable to be this decisive with him, and he still wasn't sure she'd ever get there. So, it really wouldn't be a terrible thing, accepting the offer, if it was mutually beneficial for the both of them, would it?

It took about a minute of consideration before Oliver was offering a shrug, followed by a nod, in response. "Okay," he agreed, "yeah. What the hell, sure." They didn't need to be in love with each other to simply date, as long as they weren't under any impression otherwise. Neither one liked the other an awful amount more, nor were they looking for something completely serious. It was perfect, really: he could continue to get information for Hook, and, just maybe, make Shelly see what could happen if she didn't want to date him, after all. "Are your friends gonna be okay with this, though? They're not gonna hunt me dead, are they? I don't expect them to like me, and I don't really care, for the record, but I wasn't sure if you do," Oliver clarified, already imagining the slew of questioning she'd be on the other end of once this was revealed.

Clinking their glasses together, Tink follows suit and takes a sip of her own. It’s not that she was nervous, per say, but there certainly was an undercurrent of jitters as she prepared for the conversation they were about to have. She knows it’ll be coming slightly out of the blue, in all honesty, but she figures she has nothing to lose if he decides to turn her down. If he freaks out and swears to never talk to her again… well, losing his friendship would suck a little but hardly be the end of the world. And that really was the worst case scenario that she could think of potentially happening. Which made simply ripping off the band-aid a lot easier.

“I think we should date,” she declares, no preamble or romantic speech - just simply jumping right to the point. “I mean we’re friends now, right? And you don’t really have any other romantic offers and apparently neither do I - so why the hell not? And I can do this, I can be in a relationship and not fuck it up. I can prove that, with you.” Perhaps she shouldn’t be telling him all of this. Maybe the best course of action would have been to let him think she was genuinely fully interested in him like that… But starting the relationship off under false pretenses was the exact opposite of what Tink was trying to do. She needed to be honest and open with exactly why it was she wanted to date him, even if that meant he wouldn’t be interested. Though, a part of her can’t imagine what the harm is - it’s not like she’s asking for forever here, they could simply date each other until something better comes along. It was a perfect arrangement for them both, as far as she was concerned.

[monstersflashlight]

need more ghost stuff, its so good

imagine waking up tied to the bed and being fucked by something you cant even see

Hi there everyone, as per popular request, here we have Spectro-cum (part 2). You can find part one here, and the ghost’s masterlist here. Sorry if this is not fitting all the ghost requests, if you want something more specific send a request back, but I though this would be a good way to go thru a bunch of requests at the same time :)

Spectro-cum (part 2)

Ghosts x fem!reader || sex toys, breeding, groping, free use, double penetration

You woke up without cum dripping down your pussy, once again. You sighed in disappointment. Lately, the ghosts in your haunted house had been a bit more respectable of you, usually just fucking you once a day if anything, and never one after the other. And not with the urgency they used to have when they started this whole thing. You should be glad about it, but in reality you were… disappointed.

It was true that you were a bit mad at them when they kept using you as a cum-dump but not making you come after it, it was uncomfortable to be walking around the house all day with cum leaking out of your needy pussy but unable to get release until the night. To have you leaking their blue spectro-cum and feeling it inside all the time, refilling you once it was all out. It was the best and worst kind of edging, had you almost coming all day just to leave you unsatisfied.

Truth be told, you could have fucked yourself if you wanted. You could have rubbed one off at any point of the day… But you enjoyed having their cum leaking down your thighs and your pussy needy and wet all day long. So desperate and needy you couldn’t hold it anymore and you reached for your wet pussy with shaky fingers. Until you were so desperate, it only took you a couple of movements to get you falling apart. You couldn’t see them, but you were more than sure that they were looking at you when you did that. Always watching, always hungry for you. It was exhilarating.

But then they stopped.

They stopped proving your holes every time you bent down. Stopped groping your ass and spanking you as you passed by. Stopped using you as their cum-dump. Stopped groping you mid day until you were begging them to do something more, just to hear their creepy laughter in the air as they left you alone and unsatisfied. They stopped making you come until you were begging them to slow down and let you sleep.

And you… missed them.

You missed having a cock shoved inside your pussy every few hours. You missed being always so full of cum that it was almost a part of you. You missed the edging. You missed having your daily routine interrupted by a ghost groping your tits until your nipples were sore. And you missed, above all that, the orgasms that drove you to the edge of insanity with pleasure.

So you decided it was time to do something about it. If they didn’t like you anymore, or if they didn’t find you interesting, you could do something about it. You could tempt them so far that you’d be ravished completely when they saw.

You started ordering some new toys online, some plugs to keep you stretched and ready all day long. They never did anything more than tease your asshole, but you have been experimenting in your frustration… And you kind of liked it. You wanted them to use you completely, including your back door. So you bought a butt plug, too. You were sure they were looking over your shoulder when you made the purchase, a cold breeze you associated with them moving your hair to the side. You shivered as you felt ghostly fingers running down your spine. You whined and the touch disappeared, making you whine louder, almost begging.

You tried working yourself open in the middle of the living room that day, finger fucking you as you felt their eyes on you. You couldn’t see them, but you knew they were there, looking, expecting something from you. You came around your fingers in the most sad orgasm you had ever felt. It was good, but not good enough, it left you more unsatisfied if it was even possible.

When the package with your plugs arrived, you almost fist pumped the air, so ready to tempt them into being their usual horny selves once again. You knelt on your bed and prepared yourself to get them inside. You felt their hands parting your cheeks to see better as you started to fuck your fingers in your ass, stretching yourself for the plug. A finger joined your endeavors, fucking your hole as you squirmed and your pussy got wetter and wetter. You rubbed your clit with your free hand until you were coming and the ghostly finger disappeared. You pushed the plugs inside your holes and stood up on shaky legs.

You walked around the house as usual, the plugs pressing against your special spots and making you breathe hard as you did the simplest things. You were desperate and needy, and you hoped they didn’t wait too much to act. But you were so, so wrong.

It took you two days of constantly wearing the plug for them to make a move. You were going to take a nap, too tired to do anything else, to horny and desperate, already losing hope. You laid down and were about to fall asleep when you felt hands tugging at your clothes, ripping them apart and making you shiver with the urge to moan. They threw the pieces of your pj’s anywhere and you were manhandled onto your face, your ass pushed up as you felt cold hands moving the plugs around, making you moan uncontrollably.

Some other hands started rubbing your body, groping your tits and your ass, making you eager to be filled. You moaned and pleaded, begging to be fucked. Some of them listened, because the plugs were pulled out of you and cocks were shoved into both of your holes. You screamed, the intrusion too fast, but so, so good. They fucked you without caress, without control or reason, completely feral over you. Your body was being played and your holes were being filled, you could only thank the universe for them coming back to you. For them coming inside of you.

You were once again their toy to play with, they human cum-dump as one after the other took turns fucking you into the mattress. Your face was pressed down onto the sheets as they stretched you over and over. There were dicks in and out your holes, in and out, never stopping. As soon as you felt one coming deep inside of you, another was being pushed in their place. It was exhilarating and confusing and so, so good you were losing your mind. Your mouth opened in a silent scream as they used your body and you cried and drooled over the bed. You were in heaven, your pussy and your asshole messy and ravished in the best way possible. They didn’t care about your orgasms, but being used so thoroughly was enough to take you to the edge and over it. You came, and came… Until you passed out.

You woke up with sore holes and cum leaking out, ghostly mouths sucking on your nipples as someone pushed their dick inside your asshole. You cried out, and someone laughed, going faster. You don’t know how much it lasted, how many hours they had you pined to the bed as they filled your holes with load after load. Your stomach was bloated, and the sheets were messy… But it was heaven.

You would never know why they stopped fucking you, but the only thing that mattered is that your pussy was being filled over and over once again. You were just a ghost’s toy, and you loved it.

[playnextdoor]

As long as you have me

summary: sesh with Sevika while she turns you out

cw: marijuana (whats new here), slight intox kink from Sevika, cunnilingus (r!receiving), Sevika is kinda rough, facesitting (r), tribbing, slight proofread, SEVIKA HAS BOTH ARMS!

The dizziness hits hard.

Sevika’s been letting you take hit after hit, teasing you about how easily you get high. By the time you’re a single drag in, you’re already teetering on the edge. Determined to prove her wrong, you pushed yourself past your usual two weak pulls of the jay she rolled. Now? You’ve nearly smoked the whole thing, and regret is setting in.

“All right, I can’t,” you mumble, unsure whether to laugh or cry because you’ve never been this high in your life.

“Yeah, I don’t think you can either,” Sevika snorts, plucking the joint from your fingers with a smirk. She takes one long, practiced drag, as calm as ever, before ashing the roach and setting it aside. Reaching for her glass of water, she takes a sip, then presses the rim to your lips. The lukewarm liquid feels like a lifeline, quenching the desert your mouth’s become.

The room swirls around you, even though the two of you haven’t moved from her bed in over an hour. Sevika lounges beside you, one hand buried in her hoodie, while you’re a twitchy, overthinking mess, trying not to forget how to breathe. Her free hand glides over your thigh in lazy, soothing circles, her touch grounding you even as the high drags you somewhere else entirely.

“Holy shit, your eyes, babe,” she gasps, her voice overly dramatic as she leans in close, cupping your face. Her thumb brushes your cheek as her sharp eyes scan your expression. “You good?” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin.

You wrinkle your nose like you’ve smelled something awful and pull back, your face hot. “Stop. You always say that and then I get paranoid,” you whine, sinking back into the pillows.

Sevika doesn’t move, just stares at you with that crooked grin that always makes your chest flutter. You glance at her, and it’s hopeless—you’re smiling too, unable to ignore the butterflies crashing around inside you.

“What?” you mutter, voice low, but the question hangs in the space between you two.

“Nothing, just trying not to say something that’ll make you paranoid,” Sevika says, voice low as she shrugs off her hoodie. She knows exactly what she’s doing—underneath, it’s just that armhole tank that clings to her in all the right places, showing off her dark, delicious arms and just enough side boob to make your thoughts spiral. You can’t resist; your finger pokes at the exposed skin, playful and far too curious.

She smirks but doesn’t comment, shifting to get comfortable again, one hand rubbing her stomach lazily. Then, without warning, her hand slides between your legs, slipping past the hem of your t-shirt. Her fingers cup you over your panties, casual as anything, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath catches. Sevika stays completely still, her face calm, her body relaxed, but there’s no denying the heat that blooms between you. You’re soaked, embarrassingly so, and her fingers twitch like they’re itching to press harder, to push right where you need her most.

She doesn’t move, just watches you through heavy-lidded, red-rimmed eyes. Her gaze makes you feel dizzy all over again, like you’re floating somewhere just out of reach. You’re here, but at the same time, not really.

The corners of your mouth lift into a grin without you realizing it, and Sevika’s sharp eyes catch the change. She exhales, her heart racing faster with every second that passes. You can tell she’s already plotting how to pull that smug, dreamy expression right off your face.

“Mm... what?” you mumble again, your voice soft and slurred as your heavy-lidded eyes flutter open and closed. The THC hums through your veins, settling you into a weightless, floaty state that leaves your body melting into the bed. The sensation pools low in your stomach, and you can feel just how soaked you are as Sevika’s hand teases you.

She doesn’t say a word, just watches you with that look—the one that makes your pulse race and your breath hitch, like she’s planning to devour you whole. Her sharp gaze alone has your skin buzzing, but it’s the contrast that undoes you, the cool blankets brushing against your heated body, her large hand cupping your mound with such maddening gentleness.

Every nerve in you screams to stay calm, to hold yourself together, but it’s no use. Between the haze in your mind and the weight of her touch, you’re barely keeping it together. You’re fighting demons, and Sevika knows it.

“I’m gonna fuck you, okay?” Sevika asks, her voice low and casual, and you can’t help but giggle. You knew exactly what she was planning the second she pulled out her rolling papers, but hearing her say it like that sends you into a fit of laughter.

“Why’d you announce it like that?” you laugh, rolling over, making her hand slip out between your legs. Sevika grabs you before you can escape too far, pulling you back into her.

Your laughter spills out uncontrollably, and she starts laughing too. It’s that kind of laugh, the ridiculous, stoned-out-of-your-mind kind where every little thing feels like the funniest thing in the world. You wiggle on top of her, squirming as you mistake her attempts to steady you for tickling, which only makes it worse.

“C’mere,” she rasps in your ear, her voice like gravel, stopping you dead in your tracks. The sound shoots through your core, and before you realize what you’re doing, you’re straddling her midsection.

Her relaxed state is almost too cute. She’s not as far gone as you—her eyes don’t get as low and hazy—but you can tell the high is hitting her, too. She keeps licking her lips and swallowing, clearly battling cottonmouth. You get it, cottonmouth’s a bitch. Still, something about her slightly disheveled, unbothered demeanor makes your chest flutter.

“Who knew how fucking dumb you get when you smoke, hmm?” Sevika’s warm, rough hands snake up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh of your hips. You groan in response, too floaty and noodle-like to argue. She’s right, and you both know it. Sevika had already prepped the room before you arrived, knowing you would ask for something every five minutes.

“You like it when you’re like this? Can’t even think, just focused on how I’m about to fuck the shit outta you,” she mutters, her voice low and teasing as she yanks you down into a kiss. It’s sickly sweet, almost painful, her teeth grazing your lip before biting down hard enough to make you whimper. Sevika gets rough and filthy when she’s drunk or high, all blunt force and no filter. Her favorite thing? Showing off just how built she is. Carrying you, dragging you, manhandling you however she pleases.

And her mouth? That’s a whole other person. She’ll say whatever crosses her mind, like now.

“C’mere. Get that ass on my face,” she growls, breaking the kiss. Her voice drops ten octaves and rasp, making your stomach flip. You cling to every word, breathless, barely able to think as she pushes you higher up her body.

“Wait—Sev, my panties,” you stammer, scrambling to slip them off. She bats your hands away with a huff, nuzzling between your thighs like she doesn’t have the patience for your shit. Then, before you can protest further, she presses her warm mouth against the damp fabric, tongue soaking through to taste your heady slick.

Fucking hell.

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest, the high amplifying everything. The heat of her mouth, the wet slide of her tongue, the glint in her eye as she devours you like a woman starved. 

“Wait, wait, can you breathe?” you gasp, stalling as your fingers card through her hair. You gently tug, trying to pull her away just enough to see her face. Sevika tilts her head up, licking her lips with her eyes half-lidded in bliss.

“Mhm. Now stop,” she mumbles, pouting as she pushes your hand aside to focus. And focused she is. Her lips wrap around your swollen clit, pulling soft whimpers from your throat as her tongue strokes you through the fabric.

You lift your shirt over your chest, exposing your chest—not just to watch her work but for her to see you, too. The sight of your tits alone makes her groan against you, the vibration adding to the onslaught of sensation.

If Sevika’s roommates walked in right now, they’d think they’d stepped into a porno. You’re practically sitting on her face, your high leaving you too sensitive, too reactive. You try to hold back, but fuck, the way her tongue lays flat for you to grind against, it’s overwhelming. She lets you use her, groaning because she loves every second of it.

One bad thing about when you’re high was that if you were to have sex, you came too quick and were far too sensitive than usual.

The final buck of your hip as you spilled in your underwear, soaking it as Sevika mouthed at it. Eyes rolled back to your skull, you find the dark tufts of Sevikas hair as you ground yourself. she flicks her tongue a bit as a way to soothe you, but it does the opposite, causing you to jerk away from her. 

“Ah—no more,” you murmur, lying horizontal on her chest, your legs numb and trembling. But Sevika’s hands are already at your hips, sliding your ruined panties off with a smirk that promises round two.

You roll over, watching her gulp the rest of her water before she climbs back into bed. She yanks the blanket off you (of course she does) and starts peeling off her own underwear.

Her smile grows, her hair messy and damp, half-up, half-down strands sticking to her skin. She doesn’t say anything as she adjusts you, moving your body to her liking until her cunt presses against yours. The slick heat of her clit catches on your folds, and you both whimper in unison.

“Holy fu—fuck, you’re so wet. You like this shit, don’t you?” Sevika groans against your lips, her voice low and rough, but her movements give her away. She’s trembling, losing herself in the mess of you, her swollen clit grinding against yours like she can’t help herself. It’s frantic uncoordinated, but it doesn’t matter. All you can focus on is the heat, the overwhelming feeling of her taking exactly what she needs.

You can’t even answer, just nodding dumbly as she kisses you again, her tongue sweeping into your mouth. The taste of her, weed and desperation, making you dizzy. Her hips stutter, and you moan against her lips, feeling yourself come down all over again.

“Sev—ah, slow down. I’m gonna come again,” you whimper, your fingers digging into her hip to try and steady her. But she’s too far gone, her pace frantic, her breath hot against your neck.

“It’s okay, fuck—just let me,” she gasps, her voice breaking as she buries her face in your shoulder. She sounds wrecked, her control slipping completely. Her arms tighten around you, her hands gripping your body like you’re the only thing holding her together.

Your orgasm hits hard and fast, ripping through you as you cry out her name. The sound is all it takes to send her over the edge. She chokes out a groan, her body shuddering against yours as she comes—sticky skin, hearts pounding, breaths tangling in the heavy air.

For a while, it’s quiet. The only sounds are your breathing and the faint rustle of sheets as you try to remember how to move. Sevika’s face is still tucked against your neck, her lips brushing against your skin as she exhales.

“You know you’re, like… really nasty,” you whisper, your voice breathless but teasing. A lazy smile tugs at your lips as you glance down at her.

She groans, lifting her head just enough to glare at you, though the flush on her cheeks gives her away. “We’re never smoking together again,” she mutters, but her lips twitch like she’s trying not to laugh.

“Sure,” you tease, too blissed out to care. You don’t even try to push her away when she shifts on top of you, her arms still holding you close. “As long as you get to have your way with me, I’m fine,” you murmur, your voice softer now as you brush your lips against hers. You can feel her smile before she kisses you again, this time slower, sweeter.

“Fuck, you’re mine,” she whispers against your lips, her voice low and possessive, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I hope so,” you reply, and it comes out like a promise.

a/n: can you tell i love writing about Sev? currently going through my drafts and revising them and so far this was fun to edit the most lol

[joelmillerisapunk]

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Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

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Wordcount: 7,103 - oops

Summary: When Joel accidentally stumbles upon your only fans he convinces himself he's only subscribing to help you through college. And then you send him his top-tier subscriber personal video and he's fucked because you don't even know it's him your dad's best friend.

Warnings: 18+, reader has an only fans, unprotected p in v, f!andm! oral receiving, age gap (at least 10 years), reader is in her 20's, alcohol consumption, there's a dick pic, reader posts nudes of herself on her OF so if you do not like that please scroll awaaaaaay thanks <3 two consenting adults.

Notes: I listened to Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter a hundred too many times and couldn't sleep on this random idea. I got carried away, this was supposed to be a short one-shot and then I fell in love and married the idea so here we are. Tysm @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Joel’s never been on a site like this.

But his best buddy's enthusiasm was infectious. Convincing him that it's all the hype, ‘You should see the women on there man.’ So, after a long day at work, followed by a shower, he is perched in front of his computer, the screen's glow illuminating his skepticism. 

With a deep breath, he navigates to the website, his fingers poised hesitantly over the keys. He starts scrolling through the front page, taking in the various content that is being shared. It's all very different from anything he's ever seen before, but he can see why his friend is so excited about it. 

As he continues scrolling Joel's eyes widen in surprise. There you are right on the front page, not too far from the top, his friend's daughter, exuding confidence in a bikini and a sexy little pose, the very picture of carefree youth. 

Denial is his first reaction as he quickly minimises the page, not believing he just saw that. It couldn't have been you. No way. But curiosity, that relentless beast, coaxes him back to the screen. The second glance confirms it; it's undeniably you, and the realization sends a jolt through him. He clicks on your profile, the rabbit hole beckoning.

His heart races as he sees more and more photos of you. Wearing lingerie in some of them, and bikinis in others, but never anything less. Then he finds the section with your paid content, looming like a forbidden fruit. The greyed-out thumbnails tease his imagination. He notices that he has to pay to see them and his mind races. What kinda stuff you got hidin’ here pretty girl?

Joel stops for a moment, unsure if he should really pay to see hidden content but before he can talk himself out of it, he enters his payment information, the justification that he is supporting you echoes hollowly in his mind. He clicks "subscribe." As soon as he does, the greyed-out photos become clear, and Joel's eyes widen in shock. He can't believe what he's seeing. You, completely naked, posing in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. 

He feels a mix of emotions - excitement, guilt, confusion. He knows he shouldn't be looking at these photos, but he can't help himself. He tells himself that it's just for a few minutes, just to see what's there. That he's just being curious, that he's just supporting you. But deep down, he knows that's not the whole truth and he knows that he'll be coming back to these photos again and again.

For now, though, he tells himself that it's okay. He's just satisfying his curiosity, and he's supporting his friend's daughter at the same time. He tells himself that it's a win-win situation, and he settles back in his chair to enjoy the photos.  But as he scrolls through the photos, he can feel himself getting more and more aroused. He starts to rub his cock through his pants, and before long, he's jerking off to the images on the screen. knowing that he's doing something wrong but unable to stop himself.

Just as he's about to come, he gets a message from the website. It's from you, and you're thanking him for subscribing to the highest tier, where he gets a personal video from you. 

Joel's heart races as he reads the message, wondering if you know it's him. But as he reads on, he realizes that you don't. You're just being friendly, asking him what he'd like to see you do or say in a personal video.

Joel pauses, wrestling with the decision. The offer is tantalizing, and he can feel the pull of his curiosity. He rationalizes that it's merely a harmless video, an extra indulgence. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, he convinces himself that there's no harm in satisfying his curiosity just this once. 

Joel takes a deep breath and types out a reply to you, asking if you could wear a school girl uniform in the video. He feels a twinge of guilt for asking, but he can't help being curious what you would look like in one and how he would feel bending you over his knee in one.

—

A few days later, Joel receives a notification that his personal video is ready to be viewed. He takes his time, feeling guilty all over again but evidently he clicks on the link and waits for the video to load.

When the video starts, he's greeted with the sight of you, wearing a plaid skirt and a white blouse, looking as sexy as ever. You start to unbutton your blouse, revealing a lacy bra underneath. Joel feels his face flush with heat as he watches you, his heart pounding in his chest.You continue to tease him, running your fingers through your hair and biting your lower lip. Joel can feel himself getting more and more aroused, his cock straining against his pants.

Finally, you slip out of your skirt and bra, revealing your naked body underneath. Joel watches in amazement as you pose. And if that wasn't enough then you started talking to him, looking directly into the camera and speaking in a sultry voice. "Hi there, cowboy," you say, a playful smile on your lips. "I hope you're enjoying the video so far. I know I'm enjoying making it for you."

You run your hands over your body, caressing your breasts and your hips. "Do you like what you see?" you ask, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I've been thinking about you. Wondering what you're doing right now. Are you touching yourself? Are you thinking about me?"

You lean closer to the camera, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've been thinking about you too, baby. Wondering what it would be like to be with you. To feel your hands on my body."

You sit down on a black spinning chair, manoeuvring your legs so youre on full display for the camera, your fingers find your clit. "I'm so wet for you, daddy.” You moan out.

You start to touch yourself in earnest, your fingers moving faster and faster. "M’so close," you say, your breath coming in short gasps. "I want you to come with me. I want you to feel what I'm feeling. I want you to come for me daddy."

You throw your head back and moan, your body shudders with pleasure. "Yes, daddy. Yes! I'm coming so hard for you."

As the video comes to an end, you look back at the camera, your eyes shining with satisfaction. "I hope you enjoyed that, cowboy, can't wait to see what we do next.”

As the video comes to an end, Joel can't believe what he's just witnessed. He feels his orgasm building up inside of him, and before he knows it, he's coming in his pants - just from watching you. 

As he looks back at the screen, he sees that there's a message waiting for him from you. You're thanking him for watching the video and asking if he enjoyed it. Damn you're quick with these messages. He didn't even know you could tell he watched it.

He stares at the screen for a moment unsure what to say 

cowboy_jm: Yeah, I really enjoyed it. Thanks for making it for me darlin. 

He hits send, feeling so awkward and out of his element. He hasn't flirted with another woman in ages and the fact you're at least ten years younger than him doesn't make it any easier. 

A few moments later, he gets a reply from you.

you: I'm glad you enjoyed it, cowboy 😘 I had a lot of fun making it for you. Do you want to see more?

He shouldn't, he should just shut his computer down and cancel the membership later. But he can't, he can't help himself.

cowboy_jm: Yeah, I'd like that.

You send him a picture, and he feels his heart race as he opens it. It's a selfie of you, wearing the plaid skirt and white blouse from the video, with a playful smile on your lips. 

you: Here's a little something extra for you, cowboy. I hope you like it. 😏

You can't do this for every top tier subscriber, could you? Then again the price tag did promise a lot more than the others did. Maybe not a lot of people were desperate enough to need to be talked up by a pretty little thing like you. But damn was he enjoying it. 

cowboy_jm: Wow, you look absolutely stunning in that outfit. I could get used to seeing you like this. 

You: Oh, I bet you could. 😉 You know, I've always wanted to ride a cowboy... or his horse.

Joel feels his face flush with heat as he reads your message. He can't believe you just said that, but he's also incredibly turned on. He's never had a conversation like this before, but he's finding that he really enjoys it.

cowboy_jm: Well, I'm sure we can work something out. I've got a pretty big horse.

you: Oh, I bet you do. I've always been a fan of big horses. Maybe one day I'll get to ride yours.

cowboy_jm: You can ride my horse anytime you want, darlin'. I promise you won't be disappointed.

you: I can't wait. 

As the conversation comes to a close, Joel feels a sense of dread wash over him. He knows he's made a mistake. He tells himself that he'll figure something out later.

—

As you close your laptop, a thrill of excitement runs through you. The conversation has been so thrilling, so charged with flirtation and innuendo. You can tell whoever is behind this cowboy profile is probably a little older and not too experienced on a site like this. 

You decide to do a little more digging before sending him anything else. You navigate to his profile, curious to learn more about this mysterious cowboy who's captured your interest. As you scroll through his vague faceless pictures and read his bio, your heart skips a beat. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks: "cowboy_jm" is none other than Joel Miller, your dad's best friend. The one coming over tomorrow for a BBQ

The shock is palpable. You've known Joel your entire life. He's been a constant presence at family barbecues, holiday gatherings, and birthday parties. The thought of him seeing your content, let alone subscribing to your highest tier, is both mortifying and exhilarating. You can't help but feel a twinge of guilt, but it's quickly overshadowed by a surge of mischievous excitement. The idea of playing a game with Joel, of having this secret, is too tempting to pass up. You decide to have a little fun with the situation. After all, he's the one who's been flirting with you, who's been watching your videos and messaging you. You tell yourself that he's a willing participant in this little charade.

With a playful smile, you decide to up the ante. You want to see just how far Joel is willing to go. You open up your messaging app and start typing.

you: Hey cowboy, I was just trying to get to sleep but need a little help. How about how about you send me a little something? 😉

You hit send and wait for his response. You know you're playing with fire, but you can't help yourself. You want to see if he's really as adventurous as he's been pretending to be. As you wait for his reply, you can't help but feel a sense of power. You're in control of this situation, and you're going to enjoy every minute of it. You know you should probably feel guilty for manipulating Joel like this, but the thrill of the game is too intoxicating.

Finally, your notifications go off, and you see a new message from Joel. You take a deep breath and open it.

cowboy_jm: Oh? And what did you have in mind, darlin'?

you: Well, I was thinking... maybe you could send me a little something to hold me over until I can have that ride. 😉

You hold your breath, waiting for his response. You're not sure if he'll go for it, but you're hoping he will.

cowboy_jm: I don't know, darlin'. I'm not sure if that's such a good idea.

you: Oh, come on, cowboy. I promise I'll make it worth your while. 😏

cowboy_jm: Well, I suppose I could make an exception... just this once.

You feel a surge of excitement as you read his message. You can't believe he's actually going to do it!

cowboy_jm: But you have to promise me something, darlin'. You have to promise that this stays between us. I don't want anyone else seein’

what I'm about to send you.

you: Oh, I promise. I won't tell a soul. 😉

cowboy_jm: Alright, darlin'. Here it is. 😘

As you gaze at the image Joel has sent, your breath hitches in your throat. The sight of his cock is both surprising and incredibly arousing. It's clear that he's not a young man, the maturity of his body is evident in the thick, veined shaft that stands proudly in the photo. The girth of it makes your fingers twitch with the desire to touch it, to feel its weight in your hands.

The skin is a rich, deep pink, stretched taut over the hardness beneath. The head is broad and flushed with a deeper hue, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip, hinting at his arousal and the urgency of his need. You can't help but imagine how it would feel inside you, filling you completely, the friction of his thrusts igniting a fire within your core.

You can't deny the beauty of his cock. It's a testament to his virility, to the raw, primal power that he possesses. The soft, dark and grey hair at the base contrasts with the smoothness of the shaft, adding to the visual feast before your eyes.

You feel a warmth spreading through your body, a heat that pools between your legs as you continue to admire the photo. The thought of having such a magnificent cock at your disposal, of being able to pleasure and be pleasured by it, sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you type out a response 

you: Wow, cowboy. You didn't have to send me something so... impressive. 😏 you've definitely exceeded my expectations. I can't wait to see it in person.

You hit send before you can second-guess yourself, the thrill of the forbidden fueling your boldness. You know you're playing a dangerous game, but the allure of the unknown, the promise of untold pleasures, is too potent to resist.

As you wait for his reply, you can't help but touch yourself, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to find the slickness that has gathered there. You imagine it's his hand, his fingers expertly coaxing you towards release, and the thought is enough to make you moan softly into the quiet of your room.

cowboy_jm: I'm looking forward to it too, darlin'. More than you know.

You can sense the anticipation in his messages, and it matches your own. 

you: Well, I better let you go, cowboy. I've got a lot to do before bed. But I'll be thinking about you... and your impressive horse. 😉

cowboy_jm: Haha, I'll be thinking about you too, darlin'. Take care, and I'll see you soon.

As the evening winds down, Joel finds himself unable to shake the conversation from his mind. The image of you in that schoolgirl outfit, the sound of your voice as you called him 'daddy', the thrill of exchanging messages with you—it all feels like a dream, a forbidden fantasy come to life. He tries to focus on other things, but his thoughts keep drifting back to you.

The next day, Joel wakes up with a sense of nervous anticipation. He's supposed to go over to your dad's house and the thought of it sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He tries to push the thoughts of your online interactions out of his mind as he gets ready, reminding himself that he's just going over to hang out with his friend. But the image of you in that plaid skirt keeps creeping back into his thoughts, making it hard for him to concentrate on anything else.

—

As he pulls into the driveway, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what's to come. He walks up to the front door, his heart pounding in his chest. Your dad greets him with a firm handshake and a warm smile, completely oblivious to the secret between his best friend and his daughter. When he walks in he notices you're nowhere in sight, and can't decide if he's relieved or disappointed.

Your dad and Joel make small talk for a few minutes before your dad excuses himself to take a phone call, leaving Joel alone in the living room. And as if on queue you walk into the room with a confident stride, wearing the same plaid skirt from the video and a tight-fitting white blouse. You greet him with a playful smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief

"Hey, Joel," you say, your voice dripping with sweetness. "Can I get you something to drink?”

Joel feels his face flush with heat as he tries to maintain his composure. "Hey there, darlin', uh sure," he replies, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're looking... very nice today.”

You giggle and do a little twirl, the skirt flaring out slightly to give him a glimpse of your thighs. "Why, thank you," you say, batting your eyelashes at him. "You're looking pretty good yourself.”

Before he can say anything else you walk over to the fridge and bend over to grab a couple of drinks, your skirt rides up to reveal a glimpse of your bare pussy, so perfect and fuckable.

You hand him a beer and wink at him, your lips curling into a seductive smile. "Enjoy the view?”

Joel takes the beer from you, his hand shaking slightly. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his mind filled with images of you from the videos and the messages you've exchanged. He knows that he should excuse himself, that he should leave before things go any further, but he can't seem to tear himself away from you.

Just then, your father walks back into the room, oblivious to the tension between you. "Hey, Joel," he says, clapping him on the back. "I'm glad you could make it. Let's head out to the backyard. I've got the grill fired up.”

Joel nods and follows him outside, grateful for the distraction. 

As the afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the backyard, Joel tries to focus on the conversation at hand, but his gaze keeps drifting back to you. The skirt you're wearing teases him with its familiarity, a tangible reminder of the illicit videos he's watched late at night, alone in the darkness of his room. The way the fabric swishes around your thighs as you move—it's enough to make his head spin and his heart race in his chest.

You seem to revel in his discomfort, your eyes sparkling with mischief every time you catch him staring. You're the perfect picture of innocence and seduction, flipping burgers on the grill, laughing at your dad's corny jokes, all the while subtly taunting Joel with your every move.

With each playful glance, each coy smile, you're pulling him deeper into your web, ensnaring him with the promise of forbidden pleasures. And Joel, for all his attempts at normalcy, can't help but be drawn in.

He reaches for another beer, the cool bottle a welcome relief from the heat that seems to be building inside him. The alcohol loosens his inhibitions, making it easier to laugh at your dad's anecdotes, to join in on the conversation, even as his mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you.

As night approaches and the drinks continue flowing, your dad’s found his limit. He stands up from his lawn chair with a contented sigh. "Well, I think it's time for this old man to hit the hay," he announces, stretching his arms above his head. "You two kids have fun, but not too much fun, alright? Make sure you take the guestroom Joel."

You flash him a cheeky grin, the corners of your eyes crinkling with amusement. "Don't worry, Dad. We'll be good," you assure him, your gaze flicking briefly to Joel, who's suddenly found something incredibly interesting on the bottom of his beer bottle.

As your dad disappears into the house, the air between you and Joel grows charged with anticipation. The playful banter, the secret glances traded throughout the evening have led to this moment, where the unspoken promise of something more hangs heavy in the air.

The stars above twinkle with a knowing light, as if privy to the secret that simmers just beneath the surface. The night, once a backdrop to a casual gathering, now feels like an intimate cocoon, sheltering the two of you from the outside world.

Joel, with his guard lowered by the evening's camaraderie and the remnants of alcohol in his system, finds himself adrift in the sea of your gaze. The laughter and casual conversation that filled the air earlier has given way to silence.

You lean back in your chair, your eyes locked on Joel's and a mischievous smile paints your lips. "You know, Joel," you say, your voice low and teasing, "I've been thinking about our little chat yesterday."

Joel's heart skips a beat. "Oh? And what chat would that be, darlin'?" he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

You lean forward, your eyes sparkling with excitement. "The one where you told me all about your - impressive horse," you say, your voice dripping with innuendo.

Joel nearly chokes on his beer, caught off guard by your boldness. He coughs and sputters, his face turning a shade of red that has nothing to do with the alcohol. "I... uh... “he stammers, his eyes darting nervously in the direction of the house. Joel feels the color drain from his face, his palms growing sweaty. He had hoped that the anonymity of the internet would keep his secret safe, but now, as he looks into your knowing eyes, he realizes that you've seen right through him this entire time. "I... uh... I'm not sure what you're talkin’ about," he stammers, his gaze darting nervously around the backyard.

You laugh, a soft, melodic sound that sends a shiver down Joel's spine. "Oh, come on, cowboy," you say, using his nickname on the site. "You don't have to be so shy about it."

Joel's eyes widen in shock, and he feels his face flush with heat. "How did you-?" he begins, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

"Let's just say I have my ways," you reply, your smile widening. "what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Joel runs a hand through his hair, his mind reeling. He had never imagined that his online interactions with you would spill over into the real world, and he's not sure how to handle the situation. "I just... I didn't think you knew it was me," he admits.

You lean back in your chair, your gaze never leaving his. "Well, I did some digging, and let's just say your profile picture was a bit of a giveaway," you say, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Joel feels his face grow even hotter, if that's possible. He had been so careful, so cautious, and yet, here he is, exposed and vulnerable.

"What's the matter, Joel? Scared?" 

“It's not that, darlin'," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... complicated."

"Life's complicated, cowboy," you say, your voice steady and sure. "But sometimes, you've just got to take the reins and ride it out.”

Before he can respond, you stand up and extend your hand towards him, a silent invitation to follow you into the unknown. Joel hesitates for a moment, his mind racing with the potential consequences of what he's about to do and what you could possibly be offering. But in the end, desire wins out over caution, and with a resigned sigh, he places his hand in yours.

You lead him through the quiet house, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. As you reach the guest room, you pause and turn to face him, your hand resting on the doorknob.

"This is where you'll be sleeping tonight, cowboy," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "But remember, I'm just down the hall if you need anything.” 

With that, you give him a playful wink and disappear down the hallway, leaving him standing there, his heart pounding and his mind filled with images of what he thought was going to happen and what might happen if he takes you up on your offer.

—

The next morning, Joel wakes up with a slight headache, the sunlight streaming in through the curtains. He sits up in bed, rubbing his temples, and tries to piece together the events of the previous night. His mind is foggy from the alcohol, but the memory of you in that skirt is crystal clear.

He gets up and stumbles out of the guest room, his bare feet padding against the cool hardwood floor. He's still half-asleep, his thoughts are muddled and disoriented, and in his groggy state, he accidentally turns the wrong way down the hallway.

Before he knows what's happening, he finds himself standing in the doorway of your bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, and through the crack, he can see you lying on the bed, your legs spread wide, your hand buried between your thighs. You're completely lost in the moment, your eyes are closed and your lips are parted in a silent moan. You're wearing a thin pair of panties. 

Joel's heart stops in his chest as he watches you, his breath catches in his throat. He knows he should turn around and leave, but he can't seem to tear himself away. He's transfixed by the sight of you, the way your body moves, the soft, needy sounds you make as you touch yourself.

And then, as if sensing his presence, your eyes flutter open. For a moment, you just stare at him, your gaze filled with surprise and desire. But instead of stopping, instead of pushing him away, you moan his name, your voice husky and full of need.

“Joel," you whisper, your fingers still moving in slow, deliberate circles. "I've been waiting for you."

Joel feels a jolt of electricity shoot through his body, his cock hardening in his boxers. He steps into the room, his movements slow and hesitant, and you beckon him closer with a curl of your finger.

"Come here, cowboy," you purr, pulling your panties to the side to give him a better view.

Joel's mind is a whirlwind of emotions as he steps toward the bed, his body acting on instinct despite the lingering doubts in his mind. He's acutely aware of the line he's about to cross, yet, the sight of you, so wanton and unashamed, is an irresistible siren call that he cannot ignore.

He reaches the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on the intimate display before him. The scent of your arousal fills the air, a heady perfume that makes his head spin. He watches as you continue to pleasure yourself, your fingers dancing over your clit with practiced ease, your hips bucking in response to your own touch.

"Touch me, Joel," you beg, your voice trembling with need. "I need to feel you inside me.”

Joel swallows hard, his hands shaking as he reaches out to touch you. His fingers graze your inner thigh, the skin soft and warm beneath his touch. With a gentleness that belies the hunger in his eyes, Joel slides your panties down your legs, exposing you fully to his gaze. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him—your pussy glistening with arousal.

Joel positions himself between your thighs, his gaze never leaving yours as he lowers his head to taste you. The first touch of his tongue to your heated core elicits a sharp gasp from you, your body arching off the bed in response to the sudden sensation.

"Oh, God, Joel," you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as he begins to explore you with his mouth. His tongue traces the contours of your pussy, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

He takes his time, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your body responding to his touch. His hands slide under your hips, pulling you closer, his tongue delving deeper into your depths. You can feel the tension building inside you, a coil of desire winding tighter with each passing moment.

"You taste so fuckin good, darlin'," Joel growls, his voice muffled by your flesh. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, your moans growing louder and more insistent as he continues his ministrations.

You're lost in a sea of sensation, your world narrowed down to the relentless rhythm of his tongue and the feel of his hands on your body. "I'm close, Joel," you gasp, your body tensing as the first waves of your orgasm begin to crest. "So close..."

With a final flick of his tongue, Joel sends you tumbling over the edge. Your body convulses as the orgasm rips through you, your muscles clenching around his tongue as you cry out his name. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, a white-hot surge of ecstasy that leaves you breathless and shaking.

As the aftershocks subside, Joel crawls up the bed to lie beside you, his body humming with need. You turn to face him, your eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction, a sated smile playing on your lips. "That was... perfect," you murmur, your hand reaching down to stroke his rock-hard erection through his boxers. "But now it's your turn, cowboy."

Before Joel can respond, you're pushing him onto his back and deftly pulling down his boxers to free his straining cock. You lean down to take him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, your hand pumping the shaft in time with your movements. Joel groans, his hands fist the sheets as you work your magic on him. He can feel the pressure building in his balls, the telltale tingling that signals the approach of his orgasm. "Fuck, darlin'," he grunts, his body tensing. 

“You're gonna make me come.”

You pull back, releasing him from your mouth with a wet pop. "Not yet," you say, a wicked gleam in your eye. "Wanna take that ride.” You straddle him, your hand guiding his cock to your entrance. You sink down onto him with a moan and your body stretches to accommodate his girth. Joel grips your hips, his eyes locked with yours as you begin to ride him, your movements are slow and deliberate.

The sensation of being inside you is almost too much for Joel. He can feel every inch of your tight, wet pussy as you move on top of him, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. "You feel so fucking good, darlin', so fuckin good,” he groans as his hands move to cup your breasts.

You lean forward letting your lips brush against his ear. "I want you to fuck me, Joel," you whisper, your voice thick with desire. "Fuck me like you've been dreaming of."

With a low growl, Joel flips you onto your back, his body covering yours as he drives into you with deep, powerful strokes. You wrap your legs around his waist, your fingers dig into his back as he pounds into you, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes through the room.

"Yes, Joel, yes!" you cry out as your body arches off the bed. "Harder, fuck me harder!"

Joel obliges, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor, each thrust pushes you closer and closer to the edge. And then, with a final, brutal thrust, you're both coming, your bodies shudder in unison as you ride out the waves of your orgasms. 

As the last spasms of pleasure wrack your bodies, Joel collapses on top of you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You lie there for a moment, basking in the afterglow, your bodies still intimately connected. Then, with a playful grin, you nudge him with your hip. "So, cowboy, how was that ride for you?"

Joel lifts his head and his eyes meet yours. A slow smile spreads across his face. "Darlin'," he drawls, "that was the best ride of my life."

You laugh, the sound light and carefree. "I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did. We should probably get cleaned up before my dad wakes up."

Reluctantly, Joel pulls out of you and rolls onto his back. You sit up, stretching your arms above your head, and then climb out of bed. You pad over to your dresser and pull out a pair of clean panties and an outfit, then turn to face Joel.

"Coming?" you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Joel grins and gets out of bed, his eyes roaming over your body. "Yes, ma'am," he says, saluting you with a mock-serious expression.

You both head to the bathroom, where you shower. As Joel steps under the spray of hot water, you take a moment to drink in the sight of him. The water cascades down his broad shoulders, tracing the contours of his muscular back and flowing over the firm swell of his ass. You allow your gaze to travel back up to his face, watching as the water beads on his skin, runs down the sharp angles of his jaw, and drips from the tips of his lashes.

Joel turns, his movements languid and unhurried. The water washes over his chest, highlighting the definition of his muscles and the ridges of his abdomen. A smattering of greying hair adorns his chest, trailing down his stomach to form a line that disappears beneath the water. His cock, still semi-hard from your earlier escapades, rests against his thigh.

For a moment, you're lost in the sheer masculine beauty of him. He's not a young man, but there's a timeless quality to his physique, a sense of strength and resilience that transcends age. You can't help the surge of attraction to him like a primal pull.

Joel catches you staring and a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. "See somethin you like, darlin'?" he drawls, his voice thick with amusement.

You feel a flush of heat creep into your cheeks, but you refuse to look away. "Maybe I do," you retort, your gaze locked with his. "Do you have a problem with that, cowboy?"

Joel chuckles. "No problem at all, feel free to look your fill."

You step forward and reach out to trace the line of hair that bisects his chest. His skin is warm and slick beneath your fingers, the muscle beneath firm and unyielding. 

Joel's smile fades, replaced by a look of intense concentration as he watches you explore his body. Encouraged by his reaction, you drop to your knees in front of him, your hands sliding over the wet skin of his hips. Joel's breath hitches as you lean forward and press a kiss to his stomach, just above the line of hair that leads to his rapidly hardening cock.

You look up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of innocence and lust. "I want to taste you, Joel," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. "I want to feel you in my mouth."

Joel groans, his hands tangling in your wet hair as he guides you closer. His cock is fully erect now, the head flushed with arousal and beaded with moisture. You part your lips and take him into your mouth, the taste of him mingling with the clean, fresh scent of the soap.

Joel's hips jerk in response to the sensation, his fingers tightening in your hair. "Fuck, such a good girl for this ol’cowboy.”

You hum in acknowledgment, the vibration sending a shudder through his body. You can feel his control slipping, his movements becoming more erratic as you work him. With each stroke of your tongue, each suckling kiss, you're pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm gonna come, darlin'," Joel warns, his voice strained. "If you don't want to swallow, you better pull back now."

You respond by taking him deeper, your hands gripping his ass as you suck him with renewed vigor. Joel's control snaps, his body tensing as he erupts in your mouth. You swallow reflexively, the salty-sweet taste of his release filling your senses.

As the last spasms of his orgasm subside, Joel pulls you to your feet and captures your lips in a searing kiss. 

As the water from the shower begins to cool, Joel reaches out and turns off the faucet, the sudden silence punctuated only by the sound of your shared breathing. He steps out of the shower first, taking a moment to grab a fluffy towel from the rack and wrapping it around his waist. Then, with a gentlemanly gesture he offers you his hand to help you step out onto the mat.

You accept his help with a grateful smile, your fingers curling around his as he assists you. He takes another towel and begins to gently dry your body, his movements tender and unhurried. The care he takes with you, the way he looks at you with a mixture of awe and desire, makes you feel cherished and beautiful.

Once you're both dry, you lead him back to your bedroom, the cool sheets a welcome relief against your warm skin. You crawl onto the bed, your body still humming with the aftereffects of your shared pleasure, and Joel follows suit, lying down beside you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. There's a sense of contentment that fills the room.

Joel reaches out and takes your hand in his, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your palm. "That was... something else, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You turn to face him, your eyes locking onto his. "It was," you agree, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I'm glad you took a chance on me, cowboy."

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "I think it's safe to say that I'm the one who got lucky."

You giggle, the sound light and carefree. It feels good to let go of the tension, to bask in the afterglow without overthinking the situation.

As the morning wears on, you both dress, the reality of the day ahead slowly beginning to intrude on your private world. You know that eventually, you'll have to face your dad, to pretend that nothing has changed, but for now, you're content to linger in bed with Joel, the world outside temporarily forgotten.

When you finally emerge from your room, you find your dad in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. He looks up as you enter, a smile spreading across his face when he sees the two of you together.

"Well, good morning, sleepyheads," he greets. "I hope you two weren't up too late."

You feel a flush of heat creep into your cheeks, but you manage to keep your expression neutral. "Not too late, Dad," you reply, your voice steady.

Joel, for his part, seems completely at ease, his years of friendship with your dad serving him well in this moment. He claps your father on the back and grins. "You know how it is. Once you get to talking, the time just flies by."

Your dad nods, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. He stands up from the table and stretches, his joints popping in the quiet of the kitchen. "Well, I'm glad you two had a good time. How about some breakfast?

Throughout the meal, you're acutely aware of his presence, the knowledge of what lies beneath his clothes, the feel of his skin against yours, the taste of him on your lips. It's a heady secret, one that you carry with you as you navigate the normalcy of the morning.

Eventually, the meal comes to an end, and Joel stands up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I should probably be heading home," he says, his gaze meeting yours. "I've got a few things I need to take care of today."

Your dad nods, pushing back his chair and standing up as well. "I understand. Thanks for coming over. We'll have to do it again soon."

You walk Joel to the door, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the first time you've been alone all morning since the shower. He turns to face you, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I had a great time, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "Thank you for... well, for everything."

You smile up at him, your eyes shining with emotion. "I had a great time too, Joel. Take care, okay?"

He nods, his hand dropping back to his side. "You too, pretty girl."

With a final, lingering look, Joel turns and walks away, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the morning. You close the door behind him and lean back against it, your mind racing with the events of the past 24 hours.

As you make your way back to the kitchen, your dad looks up from the dishes he's washing and gives you a smile. "He's a good man, that Joel," he says, his voice filled with a warmth and affection that only comes from years of friendship. "I'm glad you two get along so well."

You nod, a sense of peace settling over you. "Yeah, Dad. He’s really good.”

And as you help your dad finish the dishes, the memory of Joel's touch, the sound of his voice, the taste of his kiss, all of it lingers in the back of your mind, a sweet reminder you can only hope happens again and again. 

Special taglist for @milla-frenchy 😘

[fastandcarlos]

Dangerous Game : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: losing your independence whilst pregnant was tough, but when you try and be a little bit dangerous, oscar is far from impressed to see you do so

Panic struck you as soon as you heard the front door open, dropping the paintbrush down onto the floor as your feet scrambled to get you down the ladder that you were up. As Oscar called out through the house you shouted back, placing the lid back on the paint pot and hiding the brush underneath one of the cardboard boxes in the room.

As your eyes darted around you kept finding things to hide, moving bits around the room as the sound of Oscar’s footsteps got louder and louder towards the room.  

Just as the door handle was pushed down, you sat yourself down on the rocking chair that was in the corner of the room, leaning back with a smile on your face as Oscar walked in with his suitcase just behind him. 

“I didn’t think I’d find you in here,” he remarked, glancing around the room. 

It had been a couple of weeks since Oscar had been home but straight away his eyes narrowed as he looked around the room. Something wasn’t quite sitting right with him, taking a good look around the room as he remembered how things were when he left a short time ago. 

“It looks different in here,” Oscar commented, noticing your eyes looking a little more nervously at him then they usually did. “Have you made a few changes?” 

Your head nodded as you forced a smile onto your face, “I’ve just been doing the odd little bit here and there, trying to make life easier for you so there was less to do when you got back.” 

Oscar nodded too as you spoke, walking further into the room. Your heart began to race as his eyes narrowed on something, walking over and picking up the paintbrush that you had tried your best to hide, quickly noticing that it was still covered in paint, as was the ladder where droplets had fallen. 

“Please tell me you’ve not been up a ladder painting this nursery,” Oscar asked you, although he already knew the answer, unable to quite believe what you had been up to. 

Oscar had left you under the promise that you would do everything possible to keep yourself as safe as you could without him there. He was reluctant to go, but he trusted you. The worried part of you couldn’t keep that promise though, conscious of how much you had left to do and how little time you had before your baby arrived. 

“What if you’d have fallen from the ladder Y/N? Are you actually out of your mind?” 

Your body tensed up at the harsh tone in Oscar’s voice. “No, I’m not. I’m fed up of being treated like I’m unable to do anything though, I was only a couple of steps up and I was completely in control of what I was doing Oscar.” 

“Anything could have happened Y/N.” 

It didn’t exactly seem like the most dangerous job in the world to you, but to Oscar, it was almost as if you were tempting fate. He was happy for you to do a few jobs around the nursery, but the hardworking jobs, like painting and building, he wanted to do to make sure that you didn’t run the risk of injuring yourself. 

Oscar dropped the paintbrush back down, brushing his hands through his hair as he tried his best to stay calm. There was an anger in him that you hadn’t seen for a long time, taking you by complete surprise. 

“I’m not joking when I tell you not to do these things,” Oscar spoke, turning back to face you again. “It’s hard enough leaving you at the best of times, but especially so when you’re pregnant, and even more so when I know you’re not being safe.” 

“Surely I’m the one who decides when I’m being safe and not safe,” you argued. “Every time you say you’ll do something, something else comes along, we can’t keep doing that forever Oscar.” 

Painting the nursery was one of those things that Oscar had insisted that he would do for quite some time, but nothing ever materialised. It was either work, or family, or the time when he came home and fell asleep instead because he was so tired, but Oscar seemed unbothered that time was running out. 

“We’re supposed to do these things together, as parents,” Oscar calmly reminded you. 

“We can, but you’re never here.” 

“I’m here right now,” he huffed, throwing his arms down by his sides. “I know that I’m busy, and trust me, I wish that I wasn’t, but the thought of something happening to you absolutely terrifies me love.” 

A soft sigh came from you, “I didn’t realise that you were this worried about me.” 

Oscar took a step towards you, taking a hold of both of your hands. “Every second I’m worrying about you, nervous when the phone goes that it’ll be someone to tell me that something has happened to you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as Oscar gave your hands a squeeze. “I guess I’m quite calm right now, I just assumed that you would be feeling the same.” 

To Oscar, you were far too calm for his liking, he couldn’t believe how you just took pregnancy in your stride like it was nothing huge. He watched you carry on as if nothing was changing, with your big smile constantly still on your face. 

He was well aware that you wanted very little to change, you still wanted to be you, to be independent, and to be organised, even if he didn’t want you to be. Oscar wanted to step up though, your pregnancy was a chance for him to take control and take care of you, despite your protests. 

“The only person going up that ladder for the next three months is me,” Oscar told you, “but I still want you to be involved and doing things as well.”  

You nodded at Oscar’s suggestion, although you knew the ladder was pretty harmless, before you drove Oscar insane, you knew not going up it anymore was the best decision. 

“We’ll get this done, together,” Oscar assured you. 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“How about we make a start tonight?” He proposed. “Let’s order some food and plan out the jobs that we need to get done. I’ll get up the ladder and we can bring one of the chairs in from the dining room so that you can sit down and paint the lower parts of the walls. Does that sound like a plan?” 

Your smile turned up as soon as Oscar started speaking. “That sounds like the perfect way to spend tonight. You don’t have to do all of this though Oscar, the baby isn’t going to be arriving tomorrow.” 

“I’ve not done enough so far, I’ve got plenty of making up to do for all the jobs I’ve neglected,” he assured you. 

Your hands slipped out of his and wrapped around Oscar’s neck. “I’m sorry for breaking your trust whilst you were away, I promise it won’t happen again.” 

“Don’t be sorry, I get it. We’ve just got very different definitions of what safe activities are for pregnant women to do,” he couldn’t help but joke. 

“I only did it because I was bored without you around.” 

Oscar questionably glanced back at you, “I know for a fact you’d have been up that ladder anyway, but I’ll pretend to believe you. I love you, just promise you’ll take care of you, of both of you, for me.” 

“I promise that we’re both safe, and healthy, and we will continue to be too,” you smiled, pressing a kiss against Oscar’s lips. “Welcome home by the way.” 

“It seems like I got home just in time.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[withmyloveasyourgarden]

NINE YEARS LATE

EDDIE MUNSON x F!READER

A yearly Halloween tradition, zombie films and best friends who touch too much for it to not mean anything. 4K of fluff. [Re-uploaded from my old blog]

When you met Eddie Munson at eleven years old, he pointed at your exorcist t-shirt and asked what your favourite horror movie was.

To anyone else it might have been strange, the way the boy's eyes were so bright, his expression caught between nervous and excited like nothing else at that time was more important than the answer you were about to give.

But you gave it with a shy grin and without hesitation, watching a little stunned as the boy brightened and his lips stretched wide into a beaming smile that, even then, left your heart warm and you completely powerless to resist the hand that circled your wrist and yanked you down onto the grass beside him.

He took a cookie from his lunchbox and pressed it into your hand, skin smudged with chocolate and pride in his voice when he told you how he had sneakily watched Night of the Living Dead when his uncle wasn't home and that was now his favourite.

You wrinkled your nose a little as you ate, unable to help the reaction because you didn't understand the zombie appeal, cheeks flushing when Eddie caught it too and threw both hands to his chest, his back hitting the ground with a thud as he flung himself down, like you'd personally betrayed everything he held dear.

"Don't tell me you don't like zombies!" He'd gasped in horror, struggling not to grin when he lifted himself up on his elbows and noticed, far too pleased, that despite the way you had hid your face in your hands, there was a telltale smile in your voice at his theatrics.

"I don't not like them exactly." You countered, eyes appearing above your fingers to watch the way the boy snorted and quirked a disbelieving brow in your direction before you allowed your hands to fall away, huffing. "I mean it! It's not that I hate them or anything, they just give me creeps."

He nodded at your shirt. "And demonic possession doesn't?"

"No?"

'Weirdo." He mumbled, voice soft, and then almost immediately winced, his eyes darting worriedly to yours because what if you didn't catch the way his tone turned fond as he said it? He didn't want you to think he was being mean like so many other kids were in Hawkins when someone wasn't like them.

But then you laughed, the sound clear and sweet, and there was relief in Eddie's chest mixed with a little awe, something innocently adoring because even though he would never admit it, he was pretty sure that was his new favourite sound in the whole world.

'Says the boy who thinks a zombie movie is the best horror." You teased, tongue poking out at him when he shook his head and aimed a playful little kick to your leg, scuffed trainers nudging at your thigh.

There was a moment of easy silence that followed, a few beats where the two of you shared soft, toothy grins before the boy ducked his head and you tipped yours back to gaze at the cloudy autumn sky, fingers twisting in the grass whilst joy swirled in your chests at this new found friendship.

It was impossible to miss the exact second he had the idea, the way he scrambled to sit upright, all long arms and gangly legs because even back then Eddie had been tall for his age. The grin that stretched his cheeks was wild, excitement crackling from him as he scooted closer until he was sat directly in front of you, knees brushing against yours.

"There's only one way to settle this." He blurted suddenly, pleased when your startled gaze turned instantly curious, body leaning forward to signal he had your full attention. "We have a movie marathon. You can come to mine and we can watch both of our favourites and maybe a few more and then we rank them."

You nodded slow, thoughtful , the sharp trill of the bell signalling the end of recess making you jump and Eddie groan. "Okay. That sounds fun. But what if we can't agree on what ranks first?"

Eddie rose ungracefully to his feet and you had to shield your eyes from the low burning sun when you looked up at him, light dousing him in gold that made his eyes look like pools of warm caramel when he grinned down at you and offered you his hand.

"Then we keep having marathons until we do."

**

Nine years later and you Eddie still hadn't agreed.

You were beginning to think you never would. Or maybe even if by some miracle you did, you still wouldn't tell the boy that had become your best friend the moment he'd asked you that question in the playground.

Because it had become your tradition now. These marathons that you had every October 1st without fail because that was the same date that you showed up at Eddie's door for the very first time, a box of cookies in your hand that your mom had sent you over with and a beaming smile that had matched his when he'd flung the door wide open and pulled you inside.

You weren't sure when it became your favourite day of the year or when Eddie became your favourite person but it did and so did he. Never happier than when you were surrounded by warm blankets with a hot chocolate cradled in your hands.

There was always plates piled with freshly baked goods on your laps, movies playing that you sometimes wouldn't remember the names of after and your face pressed to the boy's collarbone when things occasionally got too scary. His arm looped around your shoulder so he could murmur, soft and sweet, against your hair. "It's okay, it's nearly over."

You also weren't too sure when your feelings for your best friend began to change, only that they most definitely had.

He was still the same Eddie, your Eddie. He was big, warm eyes and startlingly pretty grins, an energy that made you think of bottled lightning, the kind you couldn’t tear your eyes away from, beautiful and utterly unruly.

He was all-encompassing hugs, tangled limbs in a too small bed when one of you stayed the night because even if you were to lay at the other end, the boy would somehow still find his way to you in his sleep, strong arms pulling you tight to his chest and a happy sigh on his lips.

But somewhere through the years, through the horrors that started on the screen where they should have stayed but then seemed to leech into your real lives, the familiar touches came more frequently and hands lingered long enough that it caused pulses to spike. Hugs got a little longer too, a little tighter.

There was a reluctance to let go when mornings came around, no longer shy or embarrassed when streams of pinkish gold filtered through the window and stirred you awake only to find the two of you were once again moulded around each other, fingers linked between your bodies.

Instead it felt right, like that was how you belonged. A Feeling that only grew with each year that passed.

Each October 1st that you refused any other plans because this was yours and Eddie's day. Every time you turned up to the other's homes, sitting a little too close on the couch than was considered friendly, eyes drifting to watch each other instead of whichever person was fighting for their lives on the tv when you thought you wouldn't get caught.

It grew, blooming wild and stubborn in your chest, snaking around each rib, until you were forced to admit to yourself that you were in love with him.

And that scared you more than any horror movie ever could.

**

"Sweetheart, you're supposed to be watching this, not hiding through the whole thing."

The admonishment in Eddie's voice was weak - too soft to be truly serious and even if you couldn't tell by the boy's tone, the way he grinned at you when you finally lowered your mug, with what he thought was the most adorable pout on your face, immediately gave him away.

It made you poke your toes into his jean clad thigh in retaliation, a choking gasp of faux betrayal bubbling past your lips when he caught at your ankle and tickled your foot with quick fingers before you could yank it back under the safety of the blanket he'd thrown over you earlier.

You were a lot less mad than you would have been had it been anyone else and christ if Eddie didn't know it, his eyes bright even in the low flickering light of the room and the pillow of his lower lip caught between his teeth to choke down a laugh as he threateningly wriggled his fingers at you once again.

Glaring at the boy across from you, there was a half hearted grumble to your voice when you aimed a nod towards the person being ripped apart by the undead horde on the screen and told him. "You know this wouldn't be a problem if you didn't bring a zombie movie nearly every year."

The noise he made in response told you that wasn't going to happen. But as he leant forward, stretching over to the coffee table to grab a cookie that he then practically inhaled, you could feel his eyes on you. The way he was silently checking if you actually thought the movie was too much or if you were just playing up because you liked to mess with him.

"You want me to turn it off? We could put the next movie on?" He asked in the way he always did, a little teasing but still sweet, touched with hope because you both knew what he would ask next when you shook your head, determined like you always were to sit through the movie just because Eddie loved it.

And you tried to not let it show on your face the way your heart fluttered and swooped in the cage your ribs when he opened his arms the moment you gave your answer, looking far more enticing than you thought a best friend ever should.

All wrapped in a large sweater with sleeves that drooped over his ringed fingers, cosy blankets tossed over his lap and curls still messy from the weather outside.

It really was unfair just how fucking pretty Eddie was.

"Wanna come here?" He murmured in a way that made your cheeks warm, your pulse jumping from fear that he'd caught the way you were staring and his lips tugging up into a soft grin when he added. "Promise I'll keep you safe from zombies."

You narrowed your eyes like it was an offer that you needed to consider - something that took a ridiculous effort considering how badly you suddenly ached to fall into the boy.

In return he rolled his own at the suspicious gaze that you flicked over him - from his fondly exasperated expression to the hands that made impatient little grabbing motions whilst you fought back a smile and warned. "Only if you don't tickle me again."

There was a soft snort when he laughed, grin turning impish as he took matters into his own hands and reached over to pluck your mug from your fingers, placing it on the table before catching you in a gentle grip. "I swear on Dustin's mother I won't tickle you again. Now c'mere."

And so you went - with a shake of your head to hide your smile, you let yourself be pulled into him.

Desperately trying to ignore the way your skin buzzed beneath his touch as he lifted the blanket and folded you tight into his side, waiting for you to throw your arm around his waist and swing your legs over his lap until there was no part of you left that wasn't pressed up against him.

He looked like he was trying and failing to hide how pleased he was as he drew the blanket over the two of you and you all but melted in his arms. Corners of his lips quirking and a soft dusting of pink creeping over his cheeks when his hand automatically began stroking over your hair and you let slip a quiet little sound that was half sigh, half moan - his body still burning despite the innocence of it.

For a little while after that an easy silence fell over you both, a sense of contentment that couldn't be broken by the sounds of gore that came from the screen.

Eddie smelt like Autumn with every slow inhale you took, like cold, night air and smoke, spice from the cologne you bought him two birthdays ago and the cinnamon off the pastries you'd baked especially for that night that he'd almost completely devoured within half an hour of sitting down.

He was warm in a way that felt like safety when he wrapped you up in him like this and it was all too easy to forget how much the movie had previously made your stomach turn slightly. Now barely even batting an eye when somebody screamed because you were too happy being lulled by the rise and fall of Eddie's chest beneath your cheek and the weight of his head rested atop of your own.

You watched the screen with an almost foggy type of interest. A little dazed by the hand that had previously been playing with your hair now slipping down, fingers dancing over the nape of your neck and down your spine to where it eventually stopped. Palm moulded flat to the dip in your back - the heat of it searing through your shirt.

His other hand was curved around your knee - thumb stroking soft circles on the inside that made a tremor sweep over your skin.

It took you far too long to realise when he eventually spoke, oblivious to his smile, the question he pressed to your hair at your shiver, until your trance was broken by the rumble of a soft laugh when a beat too long passed without any response.

Gentle fingers that had previously been resting on your knee were now hooking beneath your chin, tilting your gaze to meet his as he dipped his head to look at you in a way that made your mouth run dry.

"Still with me there sweetheart?" He asked. Voice low, hushed, a little rougher and less teasing than you think he had intended it to be.

And suddenly the room felt a little warmer than before, an electricity present that crackled in the limited space between your bodies.

You swallowed hard, stomach twisting, the sounds of horror in the background fading to a mere hum as you nodded. Your breath hitched when your nose brushed his but you made no move to pull back and if the boy heard it, he didn't say anything. "M'here." You whispered. "What- what did you say?"

In the near-dark you watched him bite back a strained smile, curls bouncing as he shook his head ever so slightly, not at you, but at the way he suddenly felt tongue tied. Frozen with his fingers still cupping your chin and his mind alarmingly blank because you were just so close and fuck, what was it that he'd said again?

"I uh," He stumbled, words a little awkward as he attempted to subtly clear his throat." I was just wondering how you can't watch a zombie movie without hiding behind me, which to be clear, I am not complaining about , but when we got attacked by demon bats you were totally fucking fearless."

You felt flushed at how awestruck he sounded, gaze lowering and your hand coming to clasp his wrist, touch gentle on the scars that only recently healed there. "I was hardly fearless Eds." You muttered.

But the boy was already tutting, an argument ready on his tongue before you could finish your dismissal.

"Babe, I watched you decapitate one of those things with an oar like it was nothing." He grinned, feeling a little more daring as he grazed his thumb just below your lip, eyes dark on you as your lashes fluttered and you swayed further into the touch. "It was the most metal thing I've ever seen, maybe the hottest too."

He added the last part like a whisper and maybe it was the way you felt too fuzzy, not quite connected to your brain - a little too lovesick and touch-drunk from the way Eddie was surrounding you. The words that set your blood alight.

Or maybe it was just that the credits were rolling on a movie the two of you had barely watched because you'd been too focused on each other, the room falling into the type of darkness that made you a little less afraid of giving away your feelings for the boy.

But you found yourself telling him, unflinchingly honest and without a second thought. "I was only like that because they tried to hurt you, I was beyond terrified until then."

"Is that so?" Eddie mused. He was beaming like you'd just said the best thing he'd ever heard, like having proof of you being murderous at the idea of him being hurt was enough to light the boy up from the inside and make his features glow with a new softness.

You only hummed in response, heart suddenly in your throat, pulse fluttering wildly and you briefly wondered if Eddie could feel it when his hand slipped along your jaw. Thumb teasing along the edge and fingers warm on your neck.

"So if we ever got attacked by an undead horde instead of bats and cat-eating lizards?"

You laughed, shrugging. "Then I guess I'm beheading some zombies."

It was meant to be a light comment but it made the air around you grow heavy, like you couldn't move away even if your life depended on it, when he pressed his forehead to yours with a little theatrical groan.

The way his eyes bore into yours under the dark fringe of his lashes making you breath catch, lungs tight when he teased. "Careful babe, with that kind of talk I might think you're trying to make me fall in love with you."

You don't know what possessed you, the words spilt passed your lips before you could catch them.

"What if I was?"

You felt more than heard the sharp inhale of his breath, the way he froze beneath you, slack-jawed, eyes wide and searching like he was nervous of the possibility you'd suddenly laugh and tell him you were only joking.

But then he seemed to find something in the shyness of your own gaze that made his turn bold, his hand on your back pressing you that little bit firmer against him as he shifted to turn into you fully.

The smile tugging at his lips was one you'd never seen before, the type he only ever gave when he was sure you weren't looking because there was no doubt in his mind that every ounce of love he had for you was written all over his face.

And Eddie swallowed hard before he spoke, his voice shot, affection flooding through the cracks, whilst he bumped his nose to yours. "Then I'd say you're about nine years too late."

Oh.

Wait-

You made a choked sound of surprise as you jerked back to look at him, stunned, fingers curling tight into his jumper and the warm skin of his wrist so you could steady yourself.

"Nine years?" You repeated, feeling dumbstruck whilst Eddie laughed.

But then he was cupping your cheeks with both hands, drawing you back to him with a grin that was all dimples and soft honey eyes and it felt like your heart would burst in your chest when the moment he was confident he had your full attention, he told you. "Sweetheart, I was a goner from the moment you showed up on my doorstep."

"Oh."

It felt like you'd been utterly floored.

It hit you that through all the years that you'd been in love with your best friend you had never truly considered a reality where he felt the same, and now you had no clue how to react.

However you were suddenly, painfully aware of all the times where you'd ached to touch him in a way that you'd then had to remind yourself wasn't allowed, all the time you could have spent learning what his lips felt like on yours, how he tasted. How long you could have called him yours if you both hadn't been so scared.

It felt like a crime to let it go on any longer.

"Eddie?" You whispered, nerves like a champagne fizz in your belly that then spread all the way to your fingers and toes as your eyes fluttered closed at his breath on your lips.

You could smell cinnamon and smoke, a hint of mint underneath, and god, you'd never craved something so bad as you did him.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

He sounded no better than you - voice hoarse - a little wrecked. Thumbs digging into the hinges of your jaw like he was desperate to keep you anchored to him as he waited with baited breath for you to ask.

"Can I kiss you?"

His mouth was on yours before you could finish.

Soft and sweet at first despite the energy you could practically feel thrumming beneath his skin. You swallowed the groan that almost immediately slipped from his throat, both hands coming up to clutch at his wrists as he tugged you closer, tilting your jaw so he could deepen the kiss - lips sliding over yours again and again as you clung to him.

When you parted, it was only for a handful of seconds. A beat to catch your breath, to stare at each other like you couldn't believe this was finally happening. But then you caught sight of Eddie, eyes burning dark and hooded, lips swollen with your kisses, and it already felt like far too long.

Clearly Eddie felt the same.

The kiss became demanding when you crashed back together, greedy lips and greedy hands, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before hungrily licking into your mouth. And then you were being pulled onto his lap, soft thighs falling open for him to fit beneath you and the prettiest moan you'd ever heard coming from the boy as your hips settled flush over his.

You gasped against him, a desperate noise that sent heat rushing to your cheeks, when his hand slipped under your shirt to grip your waist. Dizzy at the contrast of cold rings and warm fingers that were gently neading your skin, making you melt further into him than you thought possible.

It made him grip you that little bit harder, squeeze a little tighter to see if you'd make the same sweet sound for him again and Eddie felt like he'd go wild when you did. Like he could lose himself right there and then, with your fingers buried in his curls and your mouth hot on his, because you were all he could think about, see, hear and smell.

He was drowning in you and if you asked anything of him in this moment you can be damn sure that he'd do it in a fucking heartbeat if it meant you'd continue looking at him the way you were when your lips finally parted and you swayed back.

You were all soft smiles and slightly glassy eyed - a bit drunk on the way your best friend had kissed you like he would die if he didn't - and he couldn't resist stealing another, a second and then a third. Quick and a little clumsy because Eddie was smiling too.

There was so much warmth in your chest it felt like you could burst with it. All the emotions and feelings for the boy that you'd buried for so long now free to bloom wild and unhindered in the spaces between your ribs.

You couldn't help the bubble of laughter that poured past your lips, grinning so hard it hurt as he pressed his forehead to yours, thumbs stroking circles over your sides whilst he tried to pull you even closer.

'Strange." You mumbled, soft and a little drawn out like you were just waiting for him to ask.

He didn't let you wait long, nose brushing yours, heart-achingly indulgent.

"What is?"

"I think I've changed my mind about zombie movies, maybe they're not so bad after all."

[pinkmirth]

KEEPER!

SYNOPSIS! ⸻ you’ve fallen for your darling bodyguard, and you’re over the moon to discover that he feels the same. but this feels borderline forbidden . . . for just how long can you keep what you have with reiner under wraps?

CONTAINS⸻ ( 5k+ words of . . . ) bodyguard!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), fluff, nsfw, modern au, scion!reader (descending from a rich family/influential bloodline), hyperfeminine ‘girly-girl’ reader, reiner’s german, mutual pining, secret relationship / sneaky link, public display of affection (pda), food play, car sex (unprotected), slight dacryphilia, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. mama, baby, honey, princess), reader calls reiner ‘ papa, ’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

MY LOVE LETTER! ⸻ this post is an answer to an anonymous ask: ‘ what about secret dates (turned sneaky links) with body guard! reiner??? ’ oh. my. goodness! nonnie, you’re a sexy genius and you should know it. tagging the amazing @ramonathinks! she’s the one who even introduced this bodyguard!rei-rei concept to me, and for that i’m so grateful :) ramona my love, thank you again for all the delicious reiner thoughts you always send my way! now enjoy, xoxo ♡︎

reiner’s your bulking shadow, never trailing too far behind.

he’s been hired by your parents to ensure your safety. nothing more, nothing less. he’ll follow your every step and drive you wherever you please; after all, it’s what he’s paid to do.

things started off the way they should— professional. from the very beginning, reiner knew to keep his distance, and that he did. but he soon realized just how hard that would become . . . you’re effortlessly gorgeous, sharp with your words and caring to a fault. his growing affection was only a matter of time.

nowhere on the criteria for the job does it say that he should be developing feelings. observing your habits, committing them to memory and predicting your behavior is the only thing he’s got any business doing. yet, he loves to feel the softness of your palm in his hand when he helps you into the backseat of your car, even if the contact is just for a split second at most. he finds himself peeking glances at you from the rearview mirror, soaking in how pretty you look when you’re unaware of his gaze. in truth, reiner wishes you didn’t have such an effect on him; that would make work-life much easier on his poor soul. well, love isn’t known for being simple, now is it?

it takes about four weeks on the job for him to grow a soft spot for you. reiner’s always been a hopeless romantic, oh-so quick to fall. he’d willingly lay down his life for the sake of your own, and not just because he’s getting a paycheck for it. thanks to the job description, his devoutness isn’t questioned.

before long, reiner can tell you’re becoming attached to him as well. on a fateful night, he even overhears the phone call between you and your friend, something about ‘ mister braun being so sexy that it hurts . . . ’ your bodyguard is nothing if not a man of dignity. he never meant to eavesdrop! it’s just that he's stationed outside your room for night patrol. he’s now especially glad about being up at five in the morning; he wouldn’t have been able to hear this otherwise. your confessions pry a subtle grin from his lips. there he stands, smiling to himself in the dimly lit hallway where nobody can see him blush like a schoolboy.

‘ nuh-uh, i can’t! that man works for my parents . . . he’s completely off-limits. it's a damn shame, isn’t it? ’ you release a sigh, one so exasperated that he can hear it through the other end of the door. call reiner crazy, but it sounds to him like you’re yearning to have him all to yourself. in a sudden moment, you're emerging from the room, donned in a tiny pink nightgown. cute, but thin as fuck. leaves nothing to the imagination, even. it’s the flimsiest thing he's ever seen you wear.

reiner’s cheeks burn so red that is downright embarrassing, thankfully you're unable to see him. he’s quick to lift his head and look towards the ceiling instead— much more suitable than ogling the tits of his very own client. you wouldn’t be able to catch him staring regardless, considering how the entire corridor’s tainted with darkness, but he wouldn’t dare try to steal a peek anyway.

what he can see, though, is your leisurely smile as you tell him you’re headed to the kitchen to grab a cool glass of water.

“would you like to escort me there too, mister braun? or can i go do something by myself for once?”

you’re playing with him, he realizes. just mere teasing meant to be absolutely harmless. your voice sounds much sweeter at this hour; soft and casual, coated lightly with fatigue from a busy day’s schedule.

“as long as we’re indoors, you can go anywhere you like, madam.” says reiner, “i’ll be here if you need me.”

you make your way to the refrigerator, prancing down the mansion’s luxe spiral staircase, and reiner’s rampant heart finally begins to calm. he wonders if you’d meant for him to hear you on that call. (by now, he knows just how cheeky you can be; it was definitely purposeful.) nevertheless, he's got a job to keep. neither your mother or father would respond kindly if they were to find out that he's become attached to you, or vice versa. he can hardly imagine playing the boyfriend when in reality, he’s supposed to be making sure nothing suspicious comes anywhere near a mile-long radius of you . . . it’s laughable! he’s sure your parents have more than enough money to make him disappear in the blink of an eye— that chilling fact alone puts him on his best behavior.

reiner decides to conceal it; the way he feels for you. keeps his back straight and arms folded to portray the unapproachable persona that got him hired in the first place. you eventually decide to question him over why he so-often wears that solid expression, ‘ like he doesn’t know how to smile, ’ is how you put it. it’s the very first time that you ever hear him laugh, and you turn out to like the sound. rumbly and full of bass. he couldn’t bring himself to admit that in every waking moment, it takes everything to suppress his smile whenever he sees you.

eight months of being in his company brings you to notice that reiner’s a decent listener. he makes for a great conversation, too. sure, he’s just your bodyguard, but he’s got a good ear and a smooth voice. your talks with him are always so lovely; he gives you the comfort to open up about things you’d never be able to tell your parents. pride washes over him when you admit that he’s the only one you genuinely trust. and in these moments, reiner allows himself to get vulnerable too. he tells you of his love for football as a youth, how he takes combat classes five times a week, and that he’s got tons of sisters, brothers and cousins back home in the countryside. the pair of you are so different that the contrast could almost be considered terrible. though, the longer you stay in each other’s presence, the less you can bring yourselves to care.

you and your bodyguard have grown . . . close, to say the least. the way you’re always latching onto his brawny form seems much more than friendly, especially to your parents. ‘ i feel secure with him! ’ is your claim. they’d beg to differ, but your wellbeing is enough to keep them satisfied. reiner excels at his job, and more importantly, the big blonde lug makes you happy. nobody they’ve hired in the past was ever able to get in your good graces; you utterly hated all your former bodyguards. they were much too controlling, lingered too close.

but mister braun was able to differentiate himself. he listens to your dreams and fears alike, treats you like a capable woman instead of some spoiled brat. it also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly easy on the eyes . . .

reiner can no longer take it. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. the smoothest advance he can make is standing at your right side and slinking an arm around your waist, with claims of it being for your ‘protection.’ but the both of you know it’s only the proximity he’s chasing after. the way he looms beside you was always more self-indulgent than it was for safety. he just liked the closeness of it all.

he feels so much for you, and he’s virtually dying to tell you. but there’s countless reasons why he shouldn’t— particularly the risk of losing his job. every now and again, reiner chooses to be a little bit stupid, all consequences be damned. he works up the nerve to release his confession with slow and careful words. you quickly reciprocate, arms thrown around the back of his neck and tugging him into a cozy hug. he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer in— god, he’s been wanting to do this for so long. reiner hums when your manicured fingers ghost his nape, nails grazing the ends of his hair, with your tits pressed to his own chest. the pair of you fit better than he ever could’ve imagined.

you don’t know whether to call yours and reiner’s relationship ‘ official ’ — can it really be deemed as such when you’re the only ones who know? you dare not mention this to your parents, ‘cause he’s got a job to keep and you couldn’t possibly bear him not being around.

so, you’ve both decided that it’ll be a secret. shared only between you and him, so nobody’s able to intervene. dating your bodyguard is fun— brief kisses being shared when you’re the only ones in the room. the way he snugly hooks his arm around your body when escorting you feels tighter, a little more intimate. in a way, keeping things under wraps feels exhilarating.

your particular relation with mister braun isn’t verified to the outside world, but people are catching on. whenever you go out, reiner’s sure to follow. paparazzi-taken photos of you are occasionally uploaded to the internet, and it’s always a given that he’ll be included. after several months of being seen together time after time, it’s typical of people to assume that this so-called ‘ bodyguard ’ of yours is more of a boyfriend. they aren’t too far off, but you clearly won’t go out of your way to confirm their suspicions. you’re always captured in a picture of you clinging onto his burly arm with a glossy smile. your sweet expressions contrast nicely with his forever-furrowed brows. he’s handsome in this intimidating way, the tabloids say.

it’s a slow-moving thursday when reiner decides to take you on your first date with him. he waits a good hour and forty-five minutes for you to get ready. he’s used to this, of course. by now, he’s got nearly a year’s experience of waiting on you hand and foot. but tonight, his nerves get the best of him. you finish up when he least expects you to— for fuck’s sake, you even catch him pacing in the goddamn kitchen. the sight of you melts his concerns, just a little. you’re done up glamorously from head to toe, and reiner can’t contain his smile, nor hold back his stare. your light lashes are curled and wispy, with blush scattered along your cheekbones. your plush lips are pink with tint, and you’ve got on this figure-hugging outfit that he’d love to tear off of you.

you scan your surroundings, peering at every angle of your spacious home in search of your parents. after ensuring the coast is clear, you engulf him in your arms, wishing you could kiss him but you’re all dolled up and your lips are lined and glossed. reiner nuzzles his nose into the crook in your neck, inhaling faint traces of your most beloved vanilla parfum.

“god, you look so fuckin’ beautiful,” his whisper is soft against your warm flesh. you rub your hands along his broad shoulders, then slide them down his firm biceps. “and you look sexy in black,” you perk up at him, eyes round and gleaming. he loves you, he’s come to realize. and the last thing he wants is to screw this up . . .

he’s thinking too damn much. you can easily tell. it’s obvious in the way his thin blonde brows wire downwards like something’s wrong.

“reiner . . . stop it.” you order, voice serious. you only ever speak that way when you want his utmost attention. to that, he fixes his posture and stands tall as if he’s on patrol.

“stop what?” is his vague response, hands loosely positioned at either one of your hips. you lift your palms to cup his face, feeling the definition of his high cheekbones and firm jawline beneath your fingertips. he’s gorgeous, you think.

“for one, you’re clenching your teeth,” you mention, caressing his rigid jaw line until the tightness lessens. his stubble’s rough and scratchy, but it fits him so damn well. “and you’re frowing, baby.” next, your thumbs trail up to his brows, gently kneading at the creased arch. “relax.”

“m’sorry,” reiner lets out, tone low and pleading. his hands rub at your sides in an anxious pattern. “it’s jus’ that you’re so important to me . . . i wanna do this right, y’know?”

“i bet you will, rei. no need to worry, hm?” you shoot him a soft smile, and he returns it; one of the rare times you catch a glimpse of his nice and shiny teeth. “now show me a good time, papa.”

right before taking your leave , your parents have questions for you— almost too many. you don’t have any business meetings or mall trips on your schedule, so where on earth is he taking you to? rei-rei claims that he’s bringing you to a new restaurant that you’ve been meaning to try. he’ll drive you there and stay on patrol; or so he says. they decide not to question the unusually neat way his blonde hair is slicked back, or how his black dress-shirt and slacks look sharper than usual. hell, he smells amazing too. it can’t be denied that mister braun cleans up nicely.

see, reiner told a partial truth to your family. you’re on your way to a new german restaurant that’s about twelve minutes out, it’s just that you wanted to try it out with him in particular. on the drive there, you just can’t seem to restrain yourself from gazing at the man. reiner looks so put together like this, in a strapping black outfit that‘s snug against his arms, chest and thighs. his side profile’s flawless— he’s got a perfectly defined nose that slopes down to his lips, and you yearn to lick on his protruding adam’s apple. he’s got one hand on the wheel, merging into lanes and making u-turns, while the other that’s unoccupied intertwines with your softer, smaller one.

upon reaching a red light, he takes the opportunity to lift your hand up to his face, trailing his lips along the back of it. “lieblich . . .” he murmurs something in his native tongue that you can’t seem to understand, though you know its meaning is a sweet one. your grin makes him forget all about the risk he’s taking.

upon reaching your destination, reiner’s back in bodyguard-mode. that’s how he gets whenever you’re in public. yes, you’re on a date, but your safety will forever be his number one priority. he escorts you in with a large hand fit snugly into the small dip of your back as he confirms the reservation. his touch never leaves you, not even for a second. he does that thing; where he takes a brief one-over of the area, scrutinizing his environment before making the next move. you go one, two, three stories up, to the VIP floor where your dinner seats reside.

it’s a lot, he knows— the velvet floors, fancy cream-white seats and glass-like walls that showcase an aweing view of the city. you’re more than used to the finer things in life, so the only thing he wants to give you is what you deserve.

you’re raving on about how nice everything looks, leaning back into your seat as you sip on a flute of sheer-pink rosé. he’s relieved to know that he was able to make you smile tonight. a waiter presents themselves, and reiner effortlessly engages with them in german conversation. his words are smooth and fluid as he translates all the entrée and sides you asked for. even when placing a simple order, he’s still the sexiest man on earth. would now be a bad time to kiss the hell out of him?

the next three hours go by quick. you’re chatting and laughing and trying bits of each other’s platters ( though, it's mostly you eating a over half of the food from his plate . . . ) you got yourself salted-caramel ice cream for dessert, and reiner’s mischievous enough to lean close and lick the dripping residue off the corner of your lips. you gasp at him and deliver a playful kick to his foot from under the table.

“what? you had somethin’ there.” is the given excuse for his rascal behavior. naughtiness twinkles in his golden-brown eyes. there aren’t many people up here on the expensive floor, apart from two other occupied tables located on the other end of the room, and a handful of waiters that leave the kitchen every now and again. he’s lucky there isn’t anyone to catch you both.

“you’re crazy,” your laugh is infectious, “don’t make me return the favor.”

in a quick motion, reiner swipes a finger into the ice cream, his touch meeting a subtle cold. before the caramel gets the chance to melt all the way down the length of his digit, he smears some across his bottom lip. his tongue juts out to lick up the rest of the treat from his index finger.

“oh, please do.”

being away from probing eyes has made reiner bold as ever. you take him up on his request, tilting forward so that your tongue can eagerly swipe over his lips and wipe them clean. mostly sweet, just the tiniest bit salty. you want more of him already.

there’s isn’t a soul watching, so reiner escalates it. in an instant he’s got your lips merging, his hand squeezing your thigh from under the table, hot puffs of air escaping you both. “oh my god— you’re g’na get me in trouble, rei!”

“so be it,” reiner mumbles in reply, his words ticklish against your lips. from underneath his fingertips, reiner senses how tightly you press your thighs together, hungry for friction. he’s even beginning to feel worked up himself. but, the pair of you haven’t gone that far yet. the most you’ve done are hour-long makeout sessions on your king-sized bed in the earliest points of the day, when you have enough privacy to get away with it. but you wouldn’t mind feeling him in a new way tonight . . .

“you wanna get out of here, don’t you, mama?” reiner coos, cheeks rosier with his eyes slightly lidded. “mhm,” you’re quick to agree. so he puts the payment for the meal on his tab, takes your hand in his and leads you back down to floor one until you’re out of the building and back inside your window-tinted g-wagon.

mister braun is big. you’ve always known it from his appearance alone, but fuck, it holds a much greater meaning when he’s got you tucked into the backseat of your mercedes with his slacks pulled down to his ankles and your dress strewn sideways, making a slow attempt to press himself into you.

“fuck. let me in, princess,” reiner’s grunt is low, throaty enough to make you clench. your flesh feels hot and your pussy’s leaking all over the coffee-brown suede seats. he knows well enough to play around with your clit, reveling in the noises you make when his pressure increases. simultaneously, his lips suction at the smooth flesh of your neck. it feels like you’re burning up, and he’s the only one who can quench your fire.

experimentally, his hips tilt forward, and another two inches make its way in. he’s only got his fat tip and then some past that dripping hole of yours, but it’ll take much more to stretch you wide open for him. he’s groaning and muttering all sorts of profanities— about how tight you are, how good you feel, how fucking nasty this is of you.

“c’mon, woman,” reiner sucks a sharp breath into his lungs, goading you on, “lemme fuck this tight pussy.” he’s got you dangerously aroused, done by the effort of a few dirty words. wetness dribbles down from your slit to the place you and reiner carnally join, slicking up his girthy shaft as he continues to break himself past your tight rings of muscle. you claw at his solid arms, basking in the stretch. his size is imposing, forcing you open to accommodate all of him. it burns in the best way possible.

“m—more, papa,” you make out a pretty whine, knowing just how he loves your begging. you’ve got your lips agape, kissed raw from reiner’s earlier advances. you grow restless and begin to rock your hips, aching to take the entirety of him.

“mm, don’t worry, baby. i’ll give it to you so good,” it takes a little more of reiner bucking his pelvis, movements careful and shallow, for him to finally make it in. he’s bottomed out, and you can feel the throbbing from his underside. having you wrapped around him feels so incredibly right. you clench rapidly, enveloping him in an incomparable warmth.

by the time he’s made everything fit, you’re a darling little mess. your hair’s gotten frizzy and your eyes are all big ‘n glassy, with your lower lip tucked underneath your teeth. one moan after another escapes you, streaming into his ears like liquid gold. reiner throbs at the sound of every little mewl. he licks away your tears which you hadn’t even known began to fall, catching them before they can roll down the apples of your cheeks. you love the feeling, it’s just that there’s so much of him to handle at once— his fat cock, searing-hot tongue, large roaming hands . . . he's this close to consuming you whole, and you want him to.

reiner’s attentive with the way he fucks you. out, in, the pattern goes, hips drawing back before he slams back into your shaking frame all over again. he hits so unbelievably deep every time, like the width of him can’t help but prod against every spot you have. he manages to stimulate every inch of your walls, bumping every crook and ridge possible. not a part of you goes unattended to. reiner dips his head low to catch your beaded nipple between his lips, while his cock drives further inside and impels you to make more room, just for him.

as gentle as he may try to be, reiner’s undeniably a hefty man. taking it slow won’t make any difference; every deep plunge he makes into your cunt has the car creaking on its very own wheels.

“i fuckin’ love you,” he drops the heated words, punctuated with drilling thrusts; but the dick’s got you goin’ all dumb on him. it’s cute, he can’t deny, but reiner needs you to know exactly what you mean to him. so he grips at your chin from either side and lightly squeezes your cheeks together, tender with care but steady enough to make your eyes uncross and focus on him alone.

“you hear me? i— goddamnit, love you more than anything. love you so much,” the deeper he pushes in, the less you can manage to breathe. you feel the pulsing of his cock in your tummy, and it’s like the tip snags so deep that it nearly lingers in your throat. you feel yourself bounce against the seat, tits jiggling whenever he sinks inside, draws out, and snaps right back into you. your gut feels tightly wound up, and your pussy’s become impossibly more sensitive.

you’re close, he can feel it. your walls flutter with more ardor than before, squishing against the base of him with a tightness gratifying enough to spur moans from deep within his chest. you even bring your hands down to claw at his asscheeks, firm and round to the touch; the perfect source of leverage.

“r— reiner!” you cry out to him, and he’s sure his name hasn’t sounded so good up until now. he wonders if you can actually hear yourself and just how slutty you sound. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” to that you nod, head bobbing desperately. you don’t have to tell him, he knows. reiner’s knowledge is keen on the topic of you. what you like, what you don’t, and when you’ve had enough. now he’s truly taking his sweet time getting to know you from the inside out.

he presses a consoling peck to your forehead, maintaining that undoing pace of his. the repetitive ‘plat’ of his heavy balls smacking into your sticky cunt is dull compared to the huffing, panting and whining, but it’s there in all its vulgarity.

“ooh, i know exactly what y’need, princess. papa’s g’na take care of you . . . ” reiner doesn’t even say it above a whisper, just declares his devotion in the softest way he can. he slips a hand down the middle of your sweat-streaked bodies to bring some attention back to your precious clit, lewdly slick and much puffier than earlier. he gives swift strokes using the pads of his fingers, combined with the fluid roll of his hips, until you're arching into his broad chest and snapping your quivering thighs closed, trapping his wrist in between them.

reiner can unravel you with such ease, like he lives for the sole purpose of your pleasure and nothing else. you convulse against him, so he slows. but reiner hardly lets up. not completely, that way he’s able to ride you through it. he continues on, feeding you shallow thrusts to near his own high. his movements turn borderline erratic; thighs trembling, cock throbbing. he’s so close, “gonna cum,” his warning comes off as a groan, straight from the depths of his gut, erotic and primal. he’s clenching his teeth again— this time, for good reason. “where do y’want me?”

not a second is wasted before you plead, ‘ inside! ’ and with that, you’ve officially fucking broken him. never did he think his wildest dream would’ve come true by the very first date. lucky mister braun, getting to fill you up— especially when it’s what he’s been stroking himself to the thought of every other night. now, you’re practically crying for him to give it all to you. undoubtedly, he will.

he comes through one final, sloppy jerk of his hips. with a breathy grunt released into the car’s stuffy atmosphere , his warm seed spurts into you, tainting your womb. once reiner slips out, his thick cum pours down to present the most obscene view. it’s all so slippery, seeping down until there’s a wet puddle of your and his making beneath your ass. reiner’s body goes lax, thoughtfully balancing himself over you with his face propped onto your boobs. it’s only now that he realizes, legs cramped up, that he’s a bit too large for the backseat.

“ . . . i meant what i said earlier.” reiner’s voice comes off muffled, with his face stuffed between your tits and all. he looks adorable this way, gazing up at you with his lips curled into a slight pout. his arms loop your waist, snug and secure.

“mm, you said a lot of things earlier,” is your soft laugh, recalling his crude mouth and how worked up it made you. he allows you to rake your nails through his short blonde fringes.

“applying for this gig is the best thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to me,” reiner makes an attempt to sit upright and show his conviction, but he ends up with his back hunched over in the restrictive space. he disregards his comfort and reaches for your hands, clasping them in his own. “i said that i love you . . . and i mean it.” his words are airy. he’s still winded from the sex.

“and i love you,” you mean it, too. with all your being. you love him in a way you've never loved anybody else. mister braun keeps you safe, sprinkles you with compliments, slips on your heels for you, puts you first. he makes you feel like this pairing has a chance, like you don’t have to hide it. besides, he deserves your all. you should be proud to call him yours, and that you are.

reiner always wants your kisses. in the morning when you wake, right before dinner, and as you’ve recently discovered, after sex too. you’re always eager to receive his lips pressed to yours. “i love you,” reiner adds in between pecks. he now says it like it’s second nature— he loves you. it makes your heart leap from beneath your chest. he kneads your bare thighs in his palms, slowly gliding his tongue into your mouth. without shame, you moan against his lips. slivers of spit tether you both even after you part.

“i want everyone to know that we belong to each other, reiner . . . my family, too.” you admit, peering up at his handsome face through your curled lashes. you’ve got your hands planted at his chest, feeling at the solidity of his pecs.

“tonight?” he asks, tone unsure.

“yes, tonight, rei!”

he adores your sudden zeal for honesty. he truly does, but—

“maybe another day would work better, princess,” reiner muses, “when your parents wouldn’t kill me for all those hickeys on your neck.”

©PINKMIRTH! . . . all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ୨୧

[lets-try-some-writing]

I got the image of the Jack, Miko and Rafael learning to imitate Distressed/terrified Sparkling cries and using them against the decepticons. It’s a very efficient defense mechanism. Every cybertronian who heard them is freaking out because oh primus how is the squishy thing making that noise and I gotta protect it at all costs. The sheer chaos that would ensue as the ‘protect/rescue the sparkling’ programming kicks in full force.

——

The vehicons are clustered at the other end of the room panicking. They don’t know what to do. The human sparklings are looking right at them and making distress noises. The guilt is killing them.

Knockout going “is the car form less alarming?! If I turn into a car will you stop seeing me as the threat?!”

Breakdown is having a breakdown.

Starscream pinned to the wall on the other side of the room having an internal crisis. He doesn’t like this. Make it stop.

Soundwave makes no noise but you can FEEL the sheer distress radiating off of him.

Megatron is frozen. No thoughts, head empty. He’s not moving at all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.

——

The autobots have mixed feelings about this. They’re glad the kids have a way of defending themselves but please don’t do it near them. They’re stressed out enough as it is.

(This might sound kinda dumb but I thought it was kinda funny. Very tired while writing this)

Wait no this is actually brilliant.

The Decepticons never anticipated their long buried parental nature to be used against them. No one did. But they day the human children turned up on the battlefield looking far too confident, every Bot and Con present had the all encompassing feeling that something was terribly wrong. Their suspicions were quickly confirmed when, before the Decepticons could do much of anything to get the relics they were after, Rafael began to wail.

Normally, human screams meant nothing. But there was a certain pitch that sounded so close to a cry of distress from a sparkling that, to warriors who had not heard a sparkling in millennia, it was enough to send them running to help. In this case, the issue was only compounded as the children scattered like mice and started making the same noises. The Decepticons could hardly focus on the Autobots booking it to the relics as they frantically tried to locate the fictitious sparklings calling for aid.

The Vehicons managed to get to Jack, but he just kept looking up at them defiantly. Every time one of the dozen or so Vehicons on the field tried to grab him, blast him, or otherwise hurt him, Jack would chirp like a sparkling and send all of them scurrying back. It wasn't cute to the Vehicons. Having never seen actual sparklings but still having the coding needed to adore them, they looked at Jack and saw a weird frame-walker. They weren't sure what to do about it except try to haul themselves away while also keeping a vague circle around the human male.

Miko on the other hand made it a point to chase after Megatron and Soundwave, screeching like a sparkling about to be shredded. Neither stopped for her, but Megatron completely lost his train of thought every time that screech rang out. He could have been aiming at Optimus with a perfect head shot and he would be unable to fire as Miko's distressed sounds rang out in his audials. He KNEW she wasn't a sparking. His coding wasn't even that strong. But by Primus, hearing her screech was the same as watching a civilian get run over by a bus, repeatedly. Focus was impossible.

Soundwave wasn't much better. He didn't react outwardly, but the slowing of his steps and the way he tried to sidestep Miko gave away his distress. He avoided her like the plague, trying to refocus but being unable to really get far as Miko screamed like a demon. It was a fight against the Unmaker himself to keep Soundwave from bolting over to collect the sparkling who sounded so very upset.

Rafael, for his part, followed Miko's lead and harassed the other three members of High Command most often found out on the field. Breakdown ran screaming the moment Rafael started chirping at him. This was both out of fear of the frame-walker and to escape the inevitable overreaction of his coding. He may or may not have attempted parkour once or twice to get as far away from the smallest of the humans as possible.

Knockout tried to ignore Rafael when the kid chirped up at him, he really really did. But how does one ignore the Cybertronian equivalent of a soaking wet kitten meowing up at you? Simply put: you don't. Knockout gave in and quickly dropped down to try and soothe the non-existent sparkling every. single. time. Rafael pulled his noise trickery. He never fails to panic and attempt to flash colorful things at Rafael to get him to stop. Every Decepticon has since been endlessly disappointed in him.

Starscream, being terrified of things that really shouldn't be there, took the skies the instant the trio began screeching. Nope. Not today Unicron. He'll get the mission done or get the heck out of dodge to avoid coding coming online. He doesn't need empty nest syndrome on top of a crippling case of "I Love Power." He also doesn't need to deal with the horrific mental image of a squishy somehow managing to sound like a sparkling. Nope. Nope. NOPE.

The Autobots are grateful the kids can protect themselves a bit now. But by Primus, they have known NO peace since the kids figured it all out.

[seventeenpins]

a slight miscalculation - pt. i

pairing: Joel x F!Reader

word count: 8.3k

summary: Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. They road trip out together, and as she spends her first night in her new apartment, he's staying in a nearby hotel. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.

content/warnings: smut, age gap, mycologist!reader, dick sucking, implied pussy eating, fingering, no outbreak au, reader likes to hike, reader also infodumps, joel miller has a big cock, he also has anxiety, reader has anxiety too, and a cat, reader is in early 20s--exact age not established, one (1) use of daddy, alcohol and weed consumption, joel is a diligent condom wearer, set in present day, discussion of girl scout cookies, joel is sweet and soft and hasn't been eviscerated by the death of his daughter

a/n: I'm intending this to be about five parts. This may change, but right now it's looking like five. I've been struggling to write for a while, unable to focus, but I think I'm back at it? as always, your feedback is hugely appreciated, and i'm kissing all likers and commenters and rebloggers deeply and with tongue 🩷

check out pt. ii

For the first time in nineteen years, Joel is completely adrift. Sarah's starting college in just two months.

It's the kind of realization that hits him like a bucket of ice water, a sudden shock and then an unpleasant trickling of anxiety wrapping about him in nasty tendrils. And then he feels guilty, because he's so, so happy for Sarah because he knows that she's thrilled, but fuck she's gonna be two time zones away and now what's Joel meant to do on Thursday movie nights when he's here without her?

It's terrifying, and it's new. And it's not that he's new to anxiety. He's usually anxious, and he has the Sertraline on his bedside stand to prove it. But if his general anxiety baseline usually hovered around a 6.4, where he was at now far surpassed a 10. It felt exponential, and totally exhausting.

When he voices his fears to Tommy, to Joel's horror, Tommy just doubles over in laughter.

"Jesus, Joel," he wheezes, wiping fake tears from his eyes in exaggerated movements, "You looked so serious I thought you were gonna say you'd killed someone."

Joel scowls. "The fuck you laughing for?"

"She's going to college, it's not like she's dying!"

"How'm I gonna be there for her? What if she needs me? What if-"

"Joel-," Tommy pats him gently on the shoulder, "She can always call you, and you can always call her. And we both know she's got a good head on 'er shoulders."

Joel snorts in concession. "Yeah, yeah. Better than yours and mine put together, and then some."

"Exactly." Tommy agrees, "And if there's ever anything that really goes wrong, you got me. We can drive out together and make sure she's okay."

Joel nods and feels the tiniest bit of tension leave him. One step at a time.

Just over nineteen years ago he found out he was about to be a dad. Suddenly, he had a purpose. Having a kid at twenty-two wasn't something he'd ever intended, but somehow he knew he loved his baby girl from the moment he knew she was a possibility. He spent a solid seven months running around, hustling, doing everything he could to get the very best for his kid. He'd take on doubles, working himself to the bone to make sure they had the best crib, and the best stroller, too. He was thrilled and terrified and so, so green.

Now, his heart feels so big he doesn't know how to handle it. His baby girl is an honest-to-god adult, moving out and going to college, and he has no idea what he's gonna do with his time now.

He has work, of course. But beyond that? He's really gotta to widen his circle, he realises, because who's he gonna hang out with? His brother?

He'd only just turned forty-one and had absolutely not come to terms with an empty nest--the few friends from high school he'd kept in touch with were so much further behind than him. The ones that had kids had them later in their twenties and thirties, and now they're raising middle schoolers while Joel's kid is a real fucking person, leaving home and everything. All the scrapping and saving he'd been doing since before Sarah was born–for his little girl to be able to follow any dream she chose–it was finally paying off. The precocious young woman she is, she graduated early and spent nearly a year working retail to save up some cash. She'd applied to colleges all across the country, and a few international ones, too. Joel had been crossing his fingers for months, hoping she'd choose something near Austin, but cheered with her all the same when she got her acceptance letter from Oregon State University. The previous summer, just before she'd started her applications, she and Joel and Tommy spent a miserable, wonderful week hiking round the Pacific Northwest. She fell in love with it, and the university offered a few of the majors she wanted to consider.

Joel didn't know what he'd do with his baby girl so far away, his life, his reason, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna tell her that. He will not clip her wings. His baby's gonna change the world and he's not gonna hold her back. He is, though, gonna require regular phone calls and check-ins and god they grow up so fast.

"Y'all should road trip out there," Tommy suggests one night over the dinner table.

Joel knew the conversation of how Sarah would get to the West Coast would come up, and it oughta be sooner rather than later. He was half afraid that she wanted to head out on her own, that she didn't need her dad anymore. Worried she would say she wanted to get a plane ticket, or take the Amtrak all the way to Corvallis. But he knows he needs to loosen his grip a little, so he braces himself when he turns to her.

"What'dya think, Sarah? You wanna be stuck in a car with your old man for a cross-country trip?"

Sarah rolls her eyes, but her face breaks into a grin. "Can we, Dad?"

This was too good to be true, he knew, but he wasn't gonna give up one last opportunity to spend some time with his girl till winter break.

"Course, baby," he tells her, and that flicker of anxiety quells just the tiniest bit.

The next few weeks fly by, and the knot of anxiety in Joel's chest feels like it's consuming him from the inside out. He's taken some time off, more than Sarah or Tommy can remember, but he's constantly trying to suggest ideas for activities to Sarah. For the most part, she's a good sport, understanding how much it means to her dad. She took pity on him, and let him drag her to places that ideally she would've gone to when she was little, but she humored him and he appreciated her dedication. He did his best to step back when she was heading out to spend time with friends--her time here was limited, after all, and she was always a social butterfly.

There are five weeks till classes start, four weeks, three, two, and in the blink of an eye, they're loading up the truck with all of Sarah's things, and Tommy is hugging Sarah goodbye, teary eyed. He gives Joel a hug, too. Joel would never admit it, but fuck he had really needed that hug.

They would take the scenic route. Make a memorable trip of it. Joel would make sure she settles in safe and sound, and then he'd head home.

6am Sunday.

You wake with a start. It's just over a week before term starts and your entire body aches. Fuck, you think to yourself, definitely overdid it with that last hike.

(The hiking part wasn't itself a problem, but one of the trails had washed out. You thought you'd found your way, but the "easy" three and a half mile hike took about five hours, leaving your calves bruised and your heels blistered.)

You roll over in your hotel room bed and, at the sound of a slight yelp followed by a gentle thud, realise with a sudden start that you just catapulted your cat off the corner.

"Shit, sorry goblin," you tell Spatula, who glares up at you with disdain as he licks at his paw. You reach down and, despite your inadvertent cat launch, he immediately rubs up against your fingertips and lets you scratch behind his ears.

"I'm sorry, baby," you soothe.

He meows, loudly. Howls, really. You take it as an apology accepted.

You sit up properly and look at your phone calendar. Nothing immediate. You don't need to get keys to your new apartment till tomorrow, nor do you meet your roommates till then–they're both moving in today, and moving is already horrible without having to navigate around the belongings of two other people. No, thanks. You can afford one more night at the hotel, and it'll make everything go that little bit more smoothly tomorrow. Besides, you have a bit of reading you'd like to get through, maybe stock up on non-perishables till you have a full-sized fridge, and get to know the city just a little.

You move gingerly, testing the ache in your muscles as you unfold yourself from the position you've been sat in and pull yourself from the bed. It hurts, but not something that won't be fixed with a little movement.

A plan forms. First, a walk, to try and loosen up your tight muscles. Then, errands. You have a whole list, with everything categorised by store, but then you enter IKEA and exit fifteen minutes later, only to find that five and a half hours have passed and it's evening now.

How was it that IKEA harnessed such a malicious power. How could anything harness that?

You need a fucking break. And a goddamn drink.

"Hey Dad," Sarah calls from the adjacent bedroom as Joel sweats, hauling another box towards her. The drive has been good, but it has been long. His legs ache. His back aches. There are parts of him that he didn't know existed that now ache.

"Yeah?" he calls back.

"Are you sure you're okay with me staying here tonight?"

Joel lets out a breath. He wants to be okay with it. And there's no way his nineteen year old would want to hang out with her dad when she could be spending the very first night in her brand new apartment. But he also wishes she wanted to spend one last night, hanging out in a hotel room with her dad. They could watch shitty movies together. Make the most of the final night before this cataclysmic shift.

But no.

That'd just be him being selfish. He can handle a night by himself. He's gotta handle a whole lotta them soon enough.

"O'course baby," he nods, hoping the smile he's plastered on his face looks totally genuine. "But we're still doin' breakfast in the morning, right?"

She nods, vigorous, and then waves her phone around. "I was looking up places! There's a diner called Tommy's," she laughs, "Wanna try that? 9:30?"

"Let's do it," he smiles, and this one is a little less forced.

"How much more do we have?" Sarah asks, nodding towards the box Joel's still holding.

"Last box," he grunts, "What else can I help with?"

He places the box down and lets out a slight, almost silent whimper. Sarah catches it, though.

"Maybe you should take it easy the rest of the day, Dad," she tells him, "We both know you have old man back."

He rolls his eyes but nods. "Guess you're right," he shrugs, "That my cue to take off?"

Sarah blushes but turns to him sheepishly. "Yeah, I-"

"No need to explain," Joel assures, "I know you must wanna get unpacked and settle in, get to know your roommates an' all."

She jumps up and, almost startling him, wraps her arms around him in a bear hug.

"Love you, dad," she grins, and she squeezes just a little tighter than usual.

He squeezes back, and they both pretend there aren't tears in his eyes.

As you step through the doors of the hotel bar, you decide you like it. The lighting is comfortably low. It's not loud, but it's not quiet, either. Colorful bottles line the shelves, the light of the filament bulbs glinting off the glass in rainbow prisms.

You take a seat at the bar and give a nod of thanks as the bartender passes you a small menu. It's unsurprisingly extortionate, hotel bar and all, but it'll do.

"Old fashioned, please," you tell the bartender, who nods in response. A minute later, he hands you a glass, delivered with a twist of orange and a cherry on top.

With your first sip, you feel your shoulders start to relax and some of the tension loosen from your body. The warmth of the burn envelops you and your stress starts to unravel, leaving only the buzz feeling good.

You order a second, and as the glass is handed to you, a voice to your right catches your attention.

"This seat taken?" a man asks.

You shake your head and offer a quick smile, gesturing towards it, "All yours."

"Much obliged," he nods, and slips into the backless stool next to yours.

The bartender comes over and passes him the same menu, but without looking at it he asks, "Could I get an old fashioned?"

You smile and catch his eye, tipping your glass towards him. "An excellent choice," you praise, "Though if you don't have a sweet tooth, I'd recommend asking Jeff there if he can go easy on the simple syrup."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, and then he leans in conspiratorially. "T'tell you the truth, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Suddenly, he breaks into a grin and it's dazzling.

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've got cookies stashed in secret locations all through my house."

You raise an eyebrow. "If I keep 'em in my pantry, my brother'll find 'em and eat 'em all," he explains, "But ever since my kid was a girl scout, I always get cravings for girl scout cookies, so I buy an armful o'boxes and try and preserve 'em throughout the year, till I can replenish."

"What's your favorite girl scout cookie?"

"Caramel deLites, hands down."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely," he nods.

The bartender, Jeff, sets the man's drink down with a clink. You catch one another's eye and both erupt into a fit of laughter.

You're not even sure what's funny. Maybe it's just been a long day? Maybe the whiskey was getting to you?

Whatever it is, it feels good.

The man takes a sip of his drink and lets out an aaaahh and it's goofy and charming and then he extends his hand.

"Joel," he tells you, "Joel Miller". You shake his hand, introduce yourself, and then take a sip of your own drink.

"So, tell me about yourself," you smile, "You coming from out of town?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, "Come up here from Austin."

"Texas?"

Joel nods.

"That's a long trip."

"Yeah," he laughs, "It really is."

"So, you're a nice Southern boy, huh?"

"Well," he swishes his glass and tries to bite back a smile, "I don't know that I'd go quite so far, but my mama did raise me to be a gentleman."

"That so?" you ask and his blush deepens.

"I... have been known to get up to some trouble, but I like to think I've mellowed in my old age." He gestures at the beautiful little smatterings of silver at his temples, and you cackle.

"Okay, that's hot," you tell him and he chokes, but you keep going, "Old age, though? What are you, like, forty?"

He exhales, chagrined. "Forty-one."

You roll your eyes. "That ain't old."

"It feels it sometimes," he smiles, "My kid is grown. My little brother's married with a kid of his own on the way. My back hurts, pretty much all the time."

You snort. You also notice, without trying to look, that he doesn't have a wedding band. Doesn't have a tan line for one, either. Interesting.

"But more than that," he continues, "I guess I feel- I don't know. A little... aimless?"

"Yeah," you nod, and you let the moment sit. "I get that."

He lets out a little breath, and then turns back to you, focused.

"What about you? Where're you from?"

"Oof," you exhale, "All over. Spent a bit of time on the East coast. The Midwest. Lived a few months in the South, even," you tease as you bump your shoulder into his and he laughs. It's a surprisingly familiar gesture, but miraculously comfortable.

"Ever make it to Texas?"

"Naw," you shake your head, "My time in the South was all in Mississippi. After that I moved out to California, and I've been slowly working my way up the West Coast."

"And what have you been enjoying about the West Coast?" Joel asks.

"The mushrooms," you grin, and Joel frowns.

"Like, the kind you get in a little baggy from the dealer down the street, or-?"

"No," you laugh, "Or, well- Okay, sometimes. Gotta say it is great out here for that, too. But I mean fungus as a whole--mushrooms, mold, yeast, lichen. But I'm most interested in mushrooms. They're just really fuckin' cool, and there's so much we don't understand about them. And, they're delicious."

"Huh," Joel ponders, "T'tell you the truth, I've never thought much about mushrooms, besides enjoying 'em as a pizza topping."

"Most people don't," you agree, "But fuck, like-- Okay, so we know there are over five million types of fungi on Earth, but we've identified less than two percent of them. Some fungus aids decomposition. Some fungus is bioluminescent. Some are known worldwide for their delicious flavours, and others are known by the slow, horrible ways they kill you."

Joel raises his eyebrows, and suddenly you feel a little self conscious.

"Sorry, I do this," you laugh, rubbing at the back of your neck, "I get very excited about fungus and manage to alienate everyone around me."

You half expect him to stand up and walk away.

Instead, though, he leans in closer. "Don't apologise," he tells you, "I'm learning something new. Tell me more?"

"No, I should stop. Otherwise I'll never stop talking," you wince.

"How about just one more fungus fact?"

You sit for a minute, pondering. "This is- well, I guess this is one of the reasons I find fungus so fascinating. So, fungus can't photosynthesise the way that plants do--they can't produce their own food from sunshine, and water, and carbon dioxide. Instead, their mycelium-- they're these thread-like networks--they branch out beneath the earth, seeking out food, growing in the direction where it can find the nutrients it needs and breaking down organic material all around them, sometimes living organisms, as a parasite, and sometimes dead organisms as a decomposer, or both. And it's just- It's this hidden world, that exists right beneath the surface even in some of the extreme places on earth, temperature-wise. And most days, we don't even think about it."

You punctuate your thought with a large swallow of your drink, which is half-watered down now that the ice is melted, and doesn't hit quite as hard as you'd hoped, but then you look up at Joel and he's smiling at you, pensive, and--

"That's- That's actually really interesting."

Before you can respond, though, Joel glances at his watch and balks. It is getting late. "Shit," he shakes his head, "I think I oughta call it a night," he says, pulling back. "Early morning tomorrow, and if I stay at the bar I'll just keep drinkin'."

Fuck. That's a dismissal. Of course you went on too much about mushrooms. You'd fucked this up. You'd thought this was going well, but now it felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. "Oh," you nod, matching his posture, and try to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment. "Of course. Have a good night, Joel."

Joel stands up and then looks you up and down, considering. It's not brazen, but it isn't shy, either. And then understanding flashes across his face.

"Wait- Sorry, that's not how I meant it." He reaches out towards you and you melt into his touch. "I'm messin' this up." He chuckles, but it sounds pained. "Now look, I don't wanna make any presumptions. And I'm really hopin' I'm not coming off as some--dirty old man. Jesus, I haven't done this in a while. But I'm in room 308."

Your eyebrows shoot up. What you'd taken for disinterest was just--nerves?

"I reckon I'll be awake for a while yet. You're welcome to... drop by."

The disappointment melts, making way for a fluttering in your stomach.

"Twenty minutes," you assure him, "308?"

He nods and he brakes into a sheepish grin, shedding what you now realise had been something of an anxious wince. "308."

You watch him leave. When he's out of sight, you toss back the rest of your watery drink and go to pay your tab, but Jeff tells you it was already settled. You thank him and tuck your shaking hands in your pockets. You feel an electricity running through you as you take the elevator up.

When you get back to your room, you hop into the shower, just to freshen up--you keep your hair dry but scrub your body. Once you're clean, you brush your teeth.

Stepping back out of the en suite, you survey the hotel room. Spatula is lounging on the corner of the bed, entirely uninterested in your movements. You top up his dry food bowl and place a kiss between his ears before slipping out.

When you knock at Joel's door, you hear a slight rustle and clatter and then the door swings open, Joel's staring a little wide-eyed, like he didn't actually expect you to show. He's wearing grey sweats and a Johnny Cash t-shirt that looks like it's been around nearly as long as you have. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, an anxious tell that's desperately endearing.

"C'mon in," he smiles, and you step in, closing the door behind you.

You reach out to cup his face, delighting in the feeling of coarse stubble beneath your fingertips. Your first kiss is chaste. You both lean forward and press your lips to one another gently, exploring.

Then, you let out a little moan and Joel shudders. Heat surges between you, and his hands are cradling your head and brushing your cheek and he's pinning you against the closed door. You're kissing again, nothing chaste remaining, learning the taste of him, his rhythm, the crashing waves of give and take between you.

You wrap one leg around him and smirk when he lets out a throaty groan as you grind against his hard cock. You're pretty sure he's not wearing underwear, the thick bulge seemingly unconstrained in his grey sweats, the whole length pressing against your thigh.

Your head falls back and you let out soft, breathy noises as his lips trace along your collarbone, up your throat, and against that tender little spot behind your ear. When he puts your earlobe between his lips and presses his teeth gently against the skin, your knees go weak and he chuckles, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you up.

"Bed?" he asks, and you breathe yes and then, with a yelp and a throaty chuckle, you're lifted up and spun around and both tumbling into the duvet.

You're grasping at each other, desperate to keep your hands on one another. The only times you part is when you undress, and even then, you're helping each other--pulling the hem of his shirt over his lifted arms, pressing into him as he reaches around and moves to unhook your bra, but then he realises you're not wearing one and lets out a groan, his thumbs brushing alongside the tender skin along your ribs, moving gently as if to cup your breasts, but then he pulls back.

Normally you might wait, do this part slowly, draw out the tease just a little bit longer.

Tonight, though, you're ravenous.

As you fiddle with the buttons of your pants, you tug at the drawstring keeping Joel's sweats on his hips. The bow comes loose in one smooth motion, and he lifts his hips and you pull the sweats down.

Your mouth immediately waters seeing him bare, laid out for you. You watch a bead of precum drip down the head and pool on his belly. The coarse hair of his happy trail glistens with it. He's thick, uncut, and looks painfully hard, his cock head ruddy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," you tell him, and his cheeks redden but he grins. It's boyish, the way he grins, and devastatingly charming.

And, what you're saying is true. His body is gorgeous, something you wish you could sketch. Soft flesh over hard muscle, visible tan lines where his chest and shoulders are noticeably lighter than his arms. The muscles and veins along his throat are driving you absolutely fucking insane as he swallows and looks up at you.

He's got freckles on his shoulders, too, and without thinking, you lower yourself down to kiss at his shoulder. He shakes, just a little, and lets out the most beautiful gasp. It's addictive, pulling these noises from him. You follow the curve of him, giving him a taste of his own medicine--tracing feather-light kisses along his collarbone, up the tendons of his neck, behind his ear. You can feel the blood pulse in his veins as your lips brush along him. Joel goes from panting lightly to full on groaning, rutting his hips up towards you and, frustrated, meeting only air.

"Can I taste you?", you ask, and Joel lets out a half-strangled sound and nods, vigorous.

You scoot back, lower yourself, poke out your tongue and, without any preamble, lick at the slit of his head, tasting the salty, tangy precum.

Joel tips his head back and groans and you decide to be kind. You grasp onto his hips and take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down, inch by inch by inch and now you can feel him at the back of your throat, your saliva dripping down the shaft and collecting in the hair between his thighs.

You bob your head up and down, taking him deeper with each thrust, but your throat is full and there are still inches to go. You relax, doing everything you can to take him deeper, and he starts to thrust up gently.

You let him fuck into your mouth but release one of his hips, allowing him to move as freely as he needs and freeing up your hand, which you shove into your underwear, rubbing furiously at your clit.

It doesn't take much to lose yourself in it, to focus only on the sensation. You're so wet, slick coating your fingers, making the glide that much smoother as you touch yourself. Joel tastes so good, too, the intrusion of his cock the most delicious thing, feeling the way he shudders when you moan, the way he moans when you shudder.

"Fuck-" Joel gasps, and then there's a hand guiding you gently off of him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

He swallows, hard, and nods. "More than okay. Felt too fuckin' good."

"Oh yeah?" and you lean down, as if to take him back in your mouth, but he chuckles and pulls you back again.

"It's been... a while. For me. And-" He drags his palm down his face, wearing an almost pained expression. "Christ, you just look too fuckin' good down there, mouth stretched 'round me while you touch yourself. An' it feels too fuckin' good, too. I ain't ready for this to be over yet but if you keep lettin' me fuck your throat like that it's gonna be over real quick. And I wanna feel that pretty pussy myself."

You sit back up and he pulls you towards him so you're straddling him.

"You gonna fuck me, Joel?"

"Yes," he breathes, "Yes, baby, please-"

You do an awkward wobble and then stand up, shedding your pants and letting your panties drop, stepping out of them, one foot and then the other, and the way he's watching you is addictive. He watches you with beautiful eyes, drinking all of you in, and suddenly the moment has changed into one of those quiet, intimate moments where you both exhale a laugh.

You straddle him again, and lean down to kiss him, and the electric current surges up. He grabs you by the jaw, meeting your desperation. His lips on yours are exactly the balm you need and you can taste the whiskey on his breath.

"Feels fucking good," you tell Joel as you slide up and down his length. He's not penetrating you, not yet, but the lips of your pussy are spread and you're gliding along him, feeling his head at your clit and thrusting back till you're nearly seated on his balls.

He watches you, nearly unblinking, drinking it all in. Then, he lets out a groan, and half-sits up, suddenly focused.

"Shit," he closes his eyes in frustration, "I don't have any condoms. Shit shit shit-"

You push him back down and kiss him again. Then, you hop off the bed and sift around in your jean pockets.

"Ah-ha!," you exclaim, once you've found your treasure. Joel raises and eyebrow and you wink. "Saw they were selling them in the lobby. Figured it might be a good idea."

"Shit," Joel laughs, and presses his lips just to the side of your mouth. "Clever girl," he tells you, and a shiver goes up your spine.

He leans to help, but you shoo him away and he watches, entranced, as you neatly open the condom wrapper and, with a small amount of difficulty, roll it down his cock.

"Feeling okay?" You ask him, "Shit, I shoulda gotten the Magnums. Is your dick okay? It's not being choked to death by an inappropriately sized rubber, is it?"

Joel snorts. "We'll manage," he says, and then he grips you by the hips, lines himself up. He draws his knuckles along your cunt and groans, "Fuck, so goddamn wet for me-" and, the moment you look at him and nod, he holds the head of his cock against your drooling lips and presses into you.

It's a big stretch as he lowers you down onto him, the intrusion almost painful, but before you can even take a breath, it melts into absolute pleasure. You've fucked people with longer cocks before, and you've fucked people with girthier cocks before, but never have you fucked someone with a cock that's both this long and thick and it feels like you're being split in two and it's perfect and you realise, with a sudden flip of your stomach, he isn't even fully seated inside you yet.

Then, you manage to focus on the words Joel is saying-that had really just been background noise for the past ten seconds or so-and suddenly you're tuning back in for "Tha's it," his voice low and hoarse, surprisingly gentle, "Good girl, takin' this cock so well, look at you."

His brow is furrowed and he's looking at you with such dark eyes, nearly black, the pupils are so blown. "Just a little more, that's it, just one more inch, you can do it, christ, look at you, takin' all of me."

His tone is reverent and it sets a fire through you. You can feel more slickness build and drip out of you, and from the way he moans, you're certain he can feel it too despite the condom.

"So fuckin' wet," he groans, "Soakin' my cock- grippin' me so nice-Fuck--"

He leans towards you and cradles your head in his hand, kissing you hard.

When you both pull back, you know your lips must be kiss swollen and red. His are--they're soft and bright, and you want to eat him whole.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

He's thrusting into you lazily, holding you in place, but you need more, you need all of him.

You push forward and move his hand from your waist to your clit. As you manoeuvre him, his nostrils flare, and you'd wonder if he was angry, if not for the way you felt his cock stiffen even further inside of you. You start to move your hips, to rub up against the thumb on your clit, and to feel every fucking inch of him.

Urged on by the way he groans, you start to ride him, properly. Holding each other close, you fuck down onto him and he leans back, awed.

"Enjoying the show?" you ask.

"Damn- right- I- am-," Joel breathes, every word punctuated with a shuddering breath after you drive back down onto his cock, "Jesus- you- look- so- good- like- that."

You like being watched. Being admired. It sent an extra thrill through you, and your hips stutter, just a little, and now you're following a new, faster rhythm.

"Fuck, that's it, baby-" he praises, "Shit, yes- bounce on it."

You lean forward and kiss his throat, and then he makes this noise, half-strangled and beautiful.

"Shit, honey-- honey, honey, hold on-," he holds you still and you're glad he has, because your brain hadn't quite processed his words.

He's looking at you so earnestly.

"Baby, if you keep ridin' me like this I am gonna blow my load in the next twenty seconds and I don't wanna end this quite so soon."

You hum, a moment of consideration. You stare into his eyes, and part of it is calculated seduction, but another part is getting genuinely lost in the way he looks at you. The crinkles round his eyes. The way he seems able to focus on you, in a way that feels as frightening as it is exhilarating.

"How about this," You smile, "You get yours, and then you can eat me out till I get mine. And if you're ready to go again by the time I've come, we can see where we're at then. Hmm?"

You see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, and take a moment to appreciate how much he's clearly trying to control himself.

After a moments of avoiding your eye, he looks at you again and he looks utterly wrecked. "You- talkin' like that?" He shakes his head and tries to even his breath. "Fuck, I nearly came right there."

"It's okay," you soothe, and you cup his jaw and resume you movements, riding him like you had before. "You can come if you need to-" your fingertips stroke the stubble of his chin, "You're close, huh? It's okay, daddy, you can let go."

Joel lets out a strangled noise and busts immediately.

You savor the way it feels, the pulse of his cock as he spills into you. No, into the condom, you correct yourself, but you can always pretend-

After his balls relax and you can feel him start to get soft, you hold the condom down as you pull yourself off, and you're nearly unseated when there's a sudden squelch noise that sends you both into tumbles of laughter.

It takes a while to calm down, and you find yourselves heaving, tangled in the sheets, and wrapped up in each other. The condom is hanging limply on Joel's now-soft cock and it's oddly cold and gooey as you accidentally roll against it, and that sends you both off again.

"Fuck," Joel snorts, and tugs at the condom, starting to roll it off his length, "I'd almost forgotten the weird texture of a used condom. Fuckin'... Slug-like."

"That-" you declare, "Is visceral. And I hate it. Thanks."

He snorts, and you suddenly have a question.

"Condoms not making too many appearances in your life?"

"Not many, no."

"What, you usually fuck raw?"

"Just haven't been sleepin' with anyone," he shrugs, nonplussed.

"Well, I gotta say, the good people of Austin have been missing out."

Joel shrugs again, and it comes off as casual, but you notice the way his ears tint pink. "Just- not been something I did. But now, I guess, I can. And with way less guilt."

"Why guilt? Are-" you venture, dread pooling in your stomach, "Are you married?"

His eyes flit up to you sharply, and then soften immediately. He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "No. Nothin' like that. I was married, but I've been divorced nearly twenty years now."

The tightness immediately uncoils and you realise how tense you were only a moment ago. I am not a cog in the machine of a collapsing marriage. Thank fuck.

But now your curiosity is piqued. "So... why the guilt?"

"Sorry, I- I really didn't mean to get into it. I'd rather not get into it. It's- complicated."

"Of course," you shrug, and it isn't a problem because this is just a hot fantasy hookup that you'll remember fondly, and it'll be wonderful masturbation fuel for probably the rest of your life, but you don't wanna make the poor guy go into his life's trauma, especially when he's looking at you so fucking earnestly and you are actually really fucking fascinated but no, you would not let this become a problem.

"Thanks," he says, and then steps out of the room. You hear the clang of the bin as he steps on the pedal, then drops the condom, takes a piss and washes his hands.

"You hungry?" He asks, and you realize very suddenly, you're absolutely famished.

"Yes," you jump up and he laughs when you run, bare-assed and shameless, over to the corner of the room filled with brochures and traveller info and finally, you raise it in triumph when you find it, the list of nearby takeaways.

"Okay," you look at the list, "There's one place at the top of the list here that's apparently highly rated, but I actually have plans there soon and I wanna wait till then to eat there. Hope that's okay."

Joel comes over to you and rests his head on your shoulder. "No problem."

"But... alright," you continue. "There's pizza. Or... more pizza. Or, look--there's a Southern-style place, that'll make you feel right at home!" Joel pokes you in the side and you swat at him as he grunts a laugh.

Suddenly, a warning sound starts playing on loop in your brain. It was dreadfully domestic, wasn't it? This was an absolute stranger you'd just met in a hotel bar? But... it also felt... nice? And it felt nice in ways that you'd never found yourself enjoying before. Even with long-term partners. Maybe because this was so low-stakes, you reasoned, such an inevitably temporary situation, so you weren't putting the same kind of pressure on yourself.

As soon as you think that, the eternal curse of overthinking shows itself and you suddenly feel desperately self conscious. Before you can pull away and make some excuse, though, Joel's arm wraps around you and his thumb starts rubbing little circles into a tender bit of skin between your hip and your tummy. The anxiety spiral you'd been teetering on the edge of suddenly vanishes.

"How about-," he nods at the list, "Pizza?"

After Joel calls in your order, the pizza delivery service tells you to expect your food in about thirty minutes. You remember you have a little box of edibles. You ask Joel if he minds if you take one, and he doesn't. You offer him one, and he automatically declines, but then as he starts to explain, he pauses and pivots, goes "Wait, actually. Yeah. Why not?"

A freckled kid who looks no more than sixteen pulls up with a short stack of pizza boxes and a two liter bottle of root beer. He raps awkwardly on the door after exactly thirty five minutes, and it swings open.

The room looks utterly wrecked, clothing strewn along every surface. Joel answers the door wearing a robe, his entire face smelling of sex, and his moustache still shining with the slick of your release.

"Thanks, kid," Joel nods, and hands him a small wad of cash. The kid eyes him and shrugs. "Keep the change," he tells him, and the door swings back shut.

The edibles have hit beautifully. You're both blissed out, comfortably hazy, lost in the sensation of bare limbs on bedsheets and the flavors of the pizza and it's assorted sauces. You lay together on the bed, paper plates strewn between you. In the background, an X-Files rerun plays.

"Ooh!" You sit up as you catch the premise of the episode, "I love this one! See the goo? There's a giant fungal... entity.. that's working on digesting them, and giving them hallucinations as they die."

"You and mushrooms, huh?" Joel laughs, but then looks back at the episode and contemplates the viscous yellow goo. "Jesus christ," he frowns, and sniffs, now contemplating the mushrooms on his pizza slice.

You spot his glare and snort. "I think you're safe."

He takes another bite and shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I'm getting tired," he admits.

"Me too," you agree.

"No pressure, but in case it wasn't clear, you're welcome to stay the night here."

"That's sweet," you tell him, and think it over. "If I took you up on that, would you be offended if I slip out early?"

Joel raises a brow.

"I have a cat," you explain, "And I'm working on moving into a new place, and meeting a friend for breakfast, and then I need to check out after breakfast because I won't be able to get my keys for the new place until the breakfast but I can't take my cat to a diner-"

You take a breath.

"Basically, I've got a bunch of things I need to do in the morning, but if you don't mind me slipping out around, maybe, 5-ish, then I'd love to stay."

He stares at you.

You regret saying as much as you said. You don't need to over-explain yourself to this actual stranger. He doesn't care. There's no reason for him to care. He's probably in it just for the fuck, and it was fun and if you stay then there's a chance the two of you will wake up at some point in the night, still horny and lustful and you might fuck again and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't part of the draw. You realise, though, you'd also be lying if you said you didn't care what he thought of you. All of a sudden, you are overwhelmed with caring what this man thinks of you.

How fucking inconvenient.

"I wouldn't be offended at all," Joel chews, swallows, wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and speaks again. "What's your cat's name?"

You don't know what you'd expected he'd say, but it wasn't that. You buffer for a moment. "It's- Spatula."

"Spatula?"

"Yep." You feel foolish.

"Huh. Spatula."

A silent moment between you.

"Got any pictures?"

You weren't expecting that, either. "I... do? Do you want to see them?" He nods. You pull out your phone to scroll through.

Joel, suddenly scrambled around for his phone, too. It was late and he hadn't checked it for hours. Had it been on silent? What if Sarah had called and he'd missed it?

His panic eased when he saw he had only two notifications. Both from Sarah, but neither were bad. He hadn't been neglecting any crises. The first text was a selfie of Sarah and an unfamiliar person, which she'd texted to him with the caption New roomie!! The second contained an address to the place they'd have breakfast tomorrow along with Just wanted you to know I've invited a friend to join us tomorrow morning! Is that okay? Realized I should maybe have checked with you? 😬

There was an ache in his chest. He wanted to keep her to himself, get to spend one last day, just the two of them. It was the start of a whole new chapter, but more than anything, he wished he could hold onto the moment for just a second longer.

But Sarah was stressed, he knew this, so he wasn't gonna make it worse and put this burden on her. He could handle it. He had to handle it. He typed back- No problem, baby. Can't wait to meet your friend.

After a moment, he followed up with another text. Gonna turn in now. Good nite!

The less he texted right now, the better. He did not want Sarah to know anything about the night he was having.

His screen lit up a moment later. Night Dad! He takes a deep breath and wills some of the tension away.

He slips his phone aside and you scoot into bed next to him.

"This," you announce, "Is Spatula."

Joel scrolls thru, his brows raising higher with each image.

With a single nod, he opens his mouth and instead of speaking, he collapses into laughter. It comes out a wheeze- "I-- I know this won't make any sense, but your cat looks just like my goddamn brother."

You're laughing now too, both of you almost hysterical, even though you have no frame of reference. You cherish the absurdity.

Then, Joel pulls up a picture on his phone and shows you, and now you're doubling over again because his brother looks exactly like Spatula.

You don't remember falling asleep. You curse your body's internal clock because you wake up right at 5am, and even though you know you should get up and leave, you wish you could have just a little bit longer.

It's such a comfortable way to wake up. One arm is folded under your pillow, and the other is slung over Joel's hip. He's asleep, snoring softly, and strands of his hair are mussed along his forehead. Your hand is holding his tummy, but you realise there's something pressing against the heel of your hand, and then realise, with a delicious jolt, that he's hard and straining against his boxers.

It's so fucking hard to get out of that bed, but with enough barely-effective reminders--you're gonna fuck up your whole day if you're late, gotta make a good impression, Spatula's gonna be so disappointed if you're late with his breakfast--you manage to bully yourself out of the warm and wonderful bed containing blankets and absolutely fantastic dick, and you tiptoe through the room, dress quickly, and, after making a note and leaving it on his bedside stand, you slip out.

Joel wakes up with a jolt, and then rolls over to see that the alarm clock (which he dared not contemplate the number of times he must have snoozed) was telling him it was 9:13.

He was late. Really fucking late. And then the panic made his brain spin faster and that's when he noticed the note on his bedside table.

I had a really good time If you're in town for a little longer, don't be a stranger?

It's followed with your name and phone number, and a rather detailed mushroom sketch across the page. He wasn't sure what kind of mushroom it was, but it was beautiful, and clearly hand-drawn, and for whatever reason you'd decided to tear it out of, presumably, your sketchbook? And you gave it to him, and he's gonna read that note and replay last night for the rest of his fucking life. It felt incredibly precious. He placed it in a book so it wouldn't get creased or folded. Made sure it was all contained and neat, totally flat in between the pages.

Then, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.

After scrubbing the smell of sex off of his entire body, he dresses quickly and checks his watch again. 9:28.

He texts Sarah and lets her know he's a few minutes behind. She responds with an eye roll emoji.

Joel settles in his truck and pulls up directions. It's only a few minutes away. He won't be too late.

When Joel steps into the diner, he's charmed by it. It's old school, with a checkerboard floor and bright red vinyl seats. He scans the room till he spots Sarah in a booth in the corner. She's laughing over a hot chocolate, and her friend must be in the seat opposite her.

He catches Sarah's eye and she grins at him, waving him over.

You've been at the diner about fifteen minutes, and you and Sarah are already getting along beautifully.

You'd met on a university message board and had become fast friends, but meeting someone in person was always a little terrifying. On top of that, you'd already committed to spending at least one (academic) year with this person, so you were damn sure gonna make it work.

Sarah waves over her dad. You can't see him yet, the back of the booth too high.

But then he's standing right there.

You already have a hand outstretched, but when he sees you and you see him, your stomach flips and dread runs through you. All the color drains from his face. He looks like a deer in headlights, and you'd be surprised if you didn't look the same.

Sarah looks between you, not quite concerned, but definitely confused. Sarah smiles and tries to diffuse the situation.

"Hi dad!" She grins, "This is my new roommate! Well, the other new roommate--the one in the picture, their name is Ellie, they weren't able to make it this morning. BUT. Breakfast seemed like a great time to hand off keys!"

Joel is still frozen and white-faced. Your brain whirs, and you know you've just fucking catapulted yourself into a disastrous mess, but you do your very best to save face.

Reaching your hand out further so he can't possibly miss it, he gives into some familiar social instinct, takes it and you shake. You think of his hands, how they dragged along your body last night, touched you, felt you, wrecked you.

You introduce yourself. He nods, avoiding eye contact.

"Joel." He grunts. "Miller."

Sarah frowns at him, but turns back to the menu.

This- was unexpected. Problematic. Arguably, really fucked up. All of those things and more. But it'll be fine.

All throughout breakfast, you repeat that to yourself, letting the words bounce around your head. It will be fine, you repeat your mantra, it will be fine, and you try not to feel too hurt at the way Joel's avoiding eye contact as if simply looking at you will cause him unimaginable disgust.

Everything will be fine.

Note: The fic's premise is loosely based on the book Mistakes Were Made which is a fucking excellent sapphic romance novel that utilises this trope. Would strongly recommend the book if you're into smutty queer stories.

[thicctails]

I need more info on the get better children au, especially about when Bill shows up.

*rubs hands together* I finally got some extra time to draw up some new art for this AU, so let's give it some substance >:3 Long post below the read more with extra art :D

Before Euclydia was destroyed, Euclid and Scalene Cipher were some of its most powerful members. Bill saying that everyone loved him as a baby was true for a time; children aren't born very often, and the Ciphers are considered to almost be royalty. It wasn't until Bill's mutation became apparent that people began to shun him. If he had been born to any other family, he likely would have been abandoned.

Though neither Euclid nor Scalene could really comprehend the concept of something being "up", let alone what "stars" could possibly be, both of them used their status to try and find any scrap of forbidden information, hoping that they could find an answer, could find some confirmation that their son wasn't crazy, and didn't need to be blinded by his "medicine."

It was this research that eventually saved their lives. Having the knowledge that it was possible for things to, hypothetically, exist in a three dimensional plane allowed them to pool their powers and create 3D forms for themselves when Euclydia began to burn, pulling themselves off the 2D plane like a sticker being peeled off a page. It wasn't a smooth transition in the slightest, and the flames managed to damage parts of their bodies before they managed to fully free themselves. The rest of their power went into escaping their collapsing reality, and when all was said and done, they were left near catatonic and floating in the space between time and space for many, many years.

They don't really start to recover until a certain frilly guy upstairs nudges them into a new, stable dimension. This one is almost entirely 3D, and inhabited by creatures that look completely alien to the Euclydians. Creatures called humans.

They meet Dipper and Mabel not long after, and the two triangles attach themselves to the babies, doing their best to care for them in their weakened states when their young, unprepared parents fail to be adequate caretakers. Being 2D is far easier for them, so they stick to the walls like shadows and find ways to speak to the twins, slipping into videos and pictures, music and books, their forms changing slightly to match whatever media they slipped into. They teach Dipper and Mabel their colours, shapes, ABC's, ect, comfort them when they get sad or scared, and once they're old enough, how to do basic things like getting themselves food and water when they get left alone too long.

Neither Pines parent really notices their children making grabby hands and babbling at open air at first, though they do become a bit concerned when years pass and they still stare at walls and empty corners like there's something there.

Eventually, as we all know, the Pines twins get shipped off to a sleepy town in Oregon, and Euclid and Scalene are, of course, coming along to watch over their little stars. However, they become deeply uncomfortable when they start to see visages of their son carved into every room of the twin's temporary home.

It doesn't take long for the show's antics to start, but Grunkle Stan gets involved in the twins adventures far earlier because during The Inconveniecing, Euclid uses his ability to manipulate televisions to play one of those old PSA's on loop until he gets spooked enough to actually check on the twins, only to find them missing.

Eventually, through the help of Scalene using a radio to drag up an old advert for the Dusk 2 Dawn, he figures out where they are and arrives just in time to see the tail end of their ghostly encounter. Unable to deny his knowledge of Gravity Falls' weirdness, he and the twins have their Season 1 finale talk that night, and Dipper shows Stan Journal 3, which leads to all three of them searching for Journal 2 (Stan doesn't reveal the portal yet)

Bill gets summoned by Gideon like in Canon, but things veer wildly off course when, upon entering Stan's mind, Mabel asks him if he knows Euclid or Scalene. He freezes up upon hearing the names of his parents, and he immediately calls off the deal with Gideon, ripping himself out of Stan's Dreamscape. Before he can process what happened, he comes face to face with someone he's only seen in daymares for the past trillion years

Bill dips the fuck out once he realizes he's not hallucinating, disappearing to Axolotl knows where to do fun, productive things such as: scream, cry, break shit, sob on the floor, drink until the teeth in his eye ache, stare at the space between stars for days on end, and interrogate every single one of his henchmaniacs to see if they spiked his drink.

Mans has absolutely zero clue on how to navigate this situation, eventually settling on stalking the Pines because he genuinely cannot think of any possible way to approach his (apparently alive????) parents. How do you go about atoning for the extinction of your entire species?

Bill Cipher has never been one to do things for others for any other reason than to get something back, but he figures the best place to start is by protecting these fleshy human young that his parents seem so attached to.

Wait, would that make them siblings? Axolotl, he sure hopes not.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Needy Lucifer x Reader - Morning Routine (NSFW)

Waking up next to Lucifer every morning was nothing short of a dream come true

More often than not, he’d be up before you, waiting for you to open your eyes and greet you with a gentle smile

It wasn’t long after that he would hop out of bed and offer to make you breakfast just so he could bring it to you in bed

But one particular morning, you woke up to something a little different

You forced your eyes open, the harsh light of hell shining through the window of your room

But when your eyes finally adjusted, you didn’t see Lucifer smiling like he always does

Instead, you felt his arms wrapped around your waist, his forehead pressed into your back and his breath quiet and shallow

Lucifer’s bucked into your body continuously, tiny little whimpers escaping his throat despite his best efforts to keep quiet

The poor angel was humping into your body like his life depended on it!

And God, the feeling of his hard cock pressed up against you could have driven you to the brink

It was very rare to see your king this needy so early in the morning; you decided to take advantage of the situation

“Lucifer? What are you doing?~”

“H-Honey! Shit, I-I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Just a little bit. But you didn’t answer me, what are you doing?~”

“I-I…fuck, I’m sorry…I don’t know what came over me…I just…I need you, please…”

“Was last night not enough for you, Luci?~ You’re being a little greedy now, don’t you think?~”

“N-No! Last night was perfect! You’re always perfect, love! I-I just…” You teased him by wiggling your ass against the tent in his pants, causing him to whine and shudder at the unexpected friction

”I don’t know, baby, do you think it’s becoming of a king to behave like this? Begging like a man who’s never been touched?~”

“Sweetie, p-please, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…I mean, I’m not…”

“Luci, I need to shower! You have to let me go.~”

Lucifer let out the most pathetic cry you’ve ever heard from him; he was already too far gone and you loved everything about it

You felt his arms loosen around you as he pushed himself away from you reluctantly

You giggled to yourself as your hands found the hem of your panties and shoved them down until you could kick them off

You looked over your shoulder to see Lucifer’s stare, his mouth hung agape

You flashed him a coy smile before reaching down and spreading apart your glistening pussy for him

“Oh come on now, Luci, you know I would never leave you in the state you’re in! I was only teasing you.~”

“B-But I thought…”

“I just needed you to let go for a moment, I couldn’t give you access with the way you were wrapped around me!”

Lucifer’s tail appeared suddenly, thrashing back and forth like a predator about to pounce

All he needed was your word

“Go ahead, it’s okay my little angel, I want you to fuck me like a good boy~”

Not even a second passed before Lucifer’s briefs were removed and he resumed his previous position of being wrapped around you like a koala

But this time, his cock was fully sheathed inside of you leaking cunt with his tail wrapped impossibly tight around your thigh that you had held up for him

His thrusts were utterly desperate; the only things he could utter were weak “thank you’s” and completely needy moans

You didn’t fair any better as his cock was absolutely destroying you; unable to form any coherent sentence

If he was like this now, you wondered how he would respond to an invitation to join you for a shower after he was done filling you with his angelic cum~

[monstersflashlight]

Okay, hear me out: Oviposition with your insect-morph or alien partner that can go either to a cnc/dubcon play space if you want, but like...reader slowly becomes addicted to being a broodmother. Bonus points if reader is a fembunny with strong breeding instinct? :3

A/N: Hi there! This was hella fun to write, I though it would make more sense not to make reader a bunny hybrid but hope this meets all your expectations, I personally think turned out pretty good. (Also want to recommend this Stardew Valley fic because it’s the first time I read brood-mother kink and it def changed my perspective). Enjoy!

Brood-mother

Insect-monsters x fem!reader || oviposition, free use, heavy dub-con, breeding, brood-mother kink, aphrodisiacs

You walked into that cave without idea, without knowing what the fuck you were supposed to do there. When the wizard hired you for a special mission, going as far as looking specifically for you because apparently you had everything he needed, you didn’t argue much. He said some cryptic stuff as he gave you instructions to walk into the cave and look for something, he only said you’ll know when you found it, and you, silly you, accepted. It was good money, and it seemed simple enough, even if the wizard was creepy as fuck and you didn’t even know what you were looking for.

You had been walking in the cave for less than ten minutes when you felt something against your back, and you fell face down to the ground. You didn’t have time to turn around, didn’t have time to react before you felt some slimy substance around your hands and ankles. It was disgusting and you tried to get it off but you couldn’t move, the substance pinned you down to the ground. You were panicking, unable to move in any direction… and then you felt it. It was like tiny pokes against your back, against your legs, and buzzing sounds that made you shiver. What was that?

You turned your head to the side in time to see a bunch of crawling-insects running in your direction, you were about to scream when something was shoved inside your mouth. You didn’t know what it was, but it tasted amazing and you latched to it, sucking strongly to get more of that substance. The reaction was fast, your whole body getting hotter as you felt the first insects getting to your body.

The tore your clothes off, your body being stripped as you groaned and moaned against the weird thing in your mouth, unable to scream, unable to stop sucking that sweet nectar that was driving you slowly insane. You barely remembered the words of the wizard when they said you would be prepared and ready when they arrived. What seemed cryptic at the moment made total sense when you realized they were preparing you for them, they were making sure you were fertile and breedable for them.

They needed a queen… and they found you.

That was your last thought before you felt something akin to a cock was shoved into your pussy without preamble. It felt weird, ridged and harder than a human penis, but it rubbed against your walls in a way that made your head dizzy with pleasure as you got wetter and wetter. It didn’t take long before you felt the appendage parting inside of you, the side pressing against your G-spot, the tip probing at your cervix before something was inserted into your uterus. An egg. They were laying eggs inside of you. You wanted to run away, to scream… to care. But it felt so good. It felt too good and your brain wasn’t even yours anymore, you could only think of pleasure and breeding, of being full of them so you could be their queen. Their real queen.

That cock was pulled out and another took its place, thrusting into your body without mercy as you squirmed in pleasure, your pussy convulsing as you came around it. Another egg was pushed inside you. And another dick shoved inside your dripping pussy. An egg. A dick. An egg. A dick. It was an intoxicating circle that drove your brain and body into a frenzy.

You’d never felt something like that, being at the complete mercy of creatures you couldn’t even name was making you aroused, aroused to the point of juices pooling under your body. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac, but deep down you knew you were just perverted, and the fact that you were just a fuck-hole to breed for them… it made you hot. The idea that you will be pregnant with all their eggs… it made your clit tingle harder as another egg was pushed inside of you. It was intoxicating.

It continued for hours, they pumped you so full of eggs you felt about to explode, your stomach distended pushed your body into an awkward angle that only made your pussy more available for the next round. So many of them filled you, you lost count of how many eggs there could be inside of you. You came so many times you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.

But then the buzzing stopped. “Shush little explorer, I’ve sent them away, they already did their job… They found the brood-mother,” the creepy voice of the wizard resonated inside your half asleep brain as you felt the slimy restrains disappear and he took your body, too tired to fight back.

[bettymylove]

Hiii, just started following you, your work if amazing 👏 love it. I love smut but I love fluff as well. Was wondering if you could do a fluff for me.

Reader × Theodore nott

Reader is shy, sensitive and can't say no to anyone. Reader and Theo are already dating and he is super overprotective. One day when she's in class, a boy asks her to tutor him so she starts tutoring him, but during their lesson he starts touching her is inappropriately, she ends up leaving in tears(he didn't do much, he just touched her thighs then shouted at her when she complained). Theodore finds her crying and finds out why and beats the guy up till he has to visit a hospital. I know its long 😭 I just love jealous men

protect

pairing: theo nott x reader

content: read the ask, warnings: fighting, use of the word slut and whore, crying, inappropriate touching

a/n: I love jealous men too😭

Theo had not one idea as to why you were with him. You were a complete sunshine, never said no to anyone and were by far the kindest human theo had ever met.

Though people try to take advantage of your kindness, Theo's always there to protect you. He hates seeing his girl unable to say no even when she wants to and so, he helps her when he can.

However on that particular Saturday morning, your boyfriend hadn't accompanied you to breakfast, running late as usual and you had been approached by a boy in your class.

He had taken the opportunity of the empty seat beside you, which you saved for Theo, and decided to sit on it. Mattheo looked at him with an amused expression, eager to see Theo's reaction.

Theo came stumbling into the great hall, no robe, tie askew, and eyes searching for his beloved. His eyes land upon you, along with your uncomfortable expression.

He sits beside Mattheo, "You've not said anything to this boy?" Theo looks at you while you nod your head at said boy once more and he gets up while having a mischievous smile on his face.

"You really think, if I had said something he would still be there?" Theo chuckled at the statement, getting up to finally sit beside his girlfriend.

"Morning darling, what was that about?" he had a toast in his mouth, hanging off. He was trying to find the butter and you were sure you've never seen a much cuter sight.

Your hands instinctively find his tie, adjusting it as you speak. "He wants me to tutor him this afternoon." You pat his tie one last time before returning to your breakfast.

Theo rolls his eyes at your naiveness and how you don't see that boy was flirting with you, but decided to not say anything.

Later that afternoon, you wished you were still with Theo when you were sitting in the library with the boy whose name you had forgotten by now was sitting way too close.

You had decided if he moved any closer you would say something, anything. His hand moved around your shoulders, awkardly pulling you in, while his other hand met your thighs and you pulled away.

Your pulling away didn't help because the hand around your shoulder only pulled you closer. "Please move away from me." You had finally let out.

"Why, cause you're a little slut, whoring yourself out for your little boyfriend?" His words hit you, is this how people perceived you?

You had finally broken free of his hold, pushing yourself up along with your bag and running towards your dorms.

You shut the door, threw your bag on the floor, and got in your bed. You hugged your knees to your chest and started bawling your eyes out.

It was evening now and Theo hadn't seen you, deciding to check up on you, he went to your dorm. Knocking slightly, he entered and immediately thoughts of worry filled him.

You had cried, that much was clear from your face, but he wanted to know why. He sat beside you and you immediately hugged him, starting to cry again.

"What happened darling?" He asked in the most gentle voice he could muster up. He was ready to kill whoever had done this to his girl, but first he needed her to calm down.

"That boy, from this morning he-" you choked up, remembering his words and his touch and feeling disgusted by it.

"What did that fucker do, did he touch you?" Theo was seething, his jaw was tensed, few of his veins were visible.

You nodded and continued, "He touched me here," You brought his hands to your thighs. "He called me a slut, who was whoring herself out for you" Your voice was heavy and you looked ready to cry again.

Theo pulled up the sleeves of his shirt, wiping your tears with it, and pulled you up on your feet. Getting your shoes, from beside your bed, he knelt and helped you put them on.

"Where are we going, Theo?" you asked while he held your hand and pulled you towards with him to his dorm, you had never seen him this angry.

"To show that idiot, whose girl he was messing with" Slamming the door to his dorm open, he went into his bathroom while Mattheo, Enzo, and Draco looked around in confusion.

Theo came out with a baseball bat, handing one to Mattheo who only grinned and yelled, "Hell yeah" at the sight.

Theo held your hand again, pulling you along with him once more but this time three more boys were accompanying you.

The boy was sitting at the table in the great hall, surrounded by his friends, Theo left your hand and kissed your forehead before pulling the guy backwards using his shirt.

He was on the ground, while all four of them were surrounding him, the boy's friends had ran after seeing exactly who had pulled him down.

"Do you really think, you will mess with my girl and I'll stay silent?" He asked, laughing slightly, swinging the bat over his shoulder and the guy had just started to utter some words before Theo's bat hit his leg.

He groaned out in pain, and you winced at the sight. All three boys had now begun hitting the boy with all their might.

Finally after a while, professor Snape had arrived to break off the fight, giving them all a week's worth of detention while carrying the boy to the hospital wing.

Theo's hand came up to clean his face while he walked towards you, putting your face in his hands he whispered, "I'll always protect you, no matter what" and all you did was smile.

[girlgenius1111]

healing

alexia putellas x reader you don't like to admit when something is wrong, alexia knows this. she also knows that with a a scheduled surgery coming up for you, she'd have to wade through these hidden emotions as best she could to support you. basically, r has a breast reduction surgery, and alexia does her best to take care of her, even when r is a bit resistant. this is, obviously, very self indulgent. potentially the most self indulgent fic i've ever written. it's very reflective of my experiences recently so. you know. i hope you enjoy. hugeeeeee thanks to @pickledwoso who sent the request in and gave me sooo many ideas to work with.

------

You sat up with a loud gasp, clutching at your chest. The specifics of the nightmare evaded you instantly, but you knew it had been horrifying. Filled with needles and doctors and knives and pain. 

“Amor?” Alexia mumbled groggily, emerging from where she was curled up under the covers, despite it being a warm evening.  She had barely been dragged from sleep by the sound you had made, only one eye cracking open to look at you.“You okay?” 

Unable to say much in response, you could only whimper quietly and shake your head. Alexia was wide awake in a second, sitting up and tilting your face towards her.

 “Ale-” You cut yourself off with a sob, leaning forward to bury your face in your girlfriend’s soft sleep shirt. 

Shaking once more, Alexia pulled you into her, cradling your body close. “What is wrong, mi amor?” 

“I-I… nightmare. I had a nightmare.” You admitted, too far gone into panic to try to hide your anxiety from your girlfriend. Alexia didn’t say much for a while, just nodding her head to show that she’d heard you, before she got to work calming you down. She did it rather easily, reminding you to breathe, stroking her fingers through your hair. She was soft, gentle, loving, and her affection bled through every light touch. Alexia always cared for you so easily; she made it seem simple. 

“Easy, just like that amor. In and out, slowly. It was just a dream, you’re right here with me. You’re okay.” 

It took a few minutes for you to calm down, and even still, you were still practically vibrating with anxiety. Alexia shifted over so that you were curled against her chest, and she could lean back against the headboard. With your face barely visible buried into her shirt, your girlfriend couldn’t really tell if you were still crying or not. Breathing steadier, for sure, but the sniffles coming from you every so often told Alexia that you were still very upset. 

The blonde began to run her fingers through your hair, massaging gently at your scalp. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You were quiet for so long, she was sure you’d fallen back asleep. “I don’t remember what happened. It was about the surgery I think.” You murmured finally. “I’m a little nervous, I guess.” 

Alexia repressed a sigh. It was beyond clear to her, and had been for weeks, that you were more than mildly anxious about your scheduled breast reduction. She’d been waiting, less and less patiently, for you to just tell her how scared you were, but now the night before your surgery, she knew she couldn’t let this go on any longer. 

Wrapping both her arms tight around you, she pulled you even closer before she spoke. “It seems like you are maybe more than a little nervous, hmm?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You seem completely terrified, mi amor.”

“I am nervous, but I know I want to do this. I’m sure, Ale, I’ve made my mind up, and I-”

“You can still be nervous, even if you feel confident in your decision. That’s okay, amor. Why would you think it’s not?” 

“I… I just didn’t want you to try to change my mind.” 

“Why would I do that?” She sounded confused, and logically, you knew why. Ale was a deeply respectful person, and she’d never ever presume to tell you what to do with your body. Ever.

 No reply came, and Alexia realized you’d begun to tremble again. Frowning, she gently guided your chin up so she could look into your eyes, less than content with the anxiety so clear on your face. “Amor, talk to me. Please.” 

“What if you don’t like them? You know… after?” 

Alexia could have laughed at the completely ridiculous notion, but she saw the wet shine in your eye that told her you were completely serious. “Do not be silly. I will love them. ” She insisted. 

“You love them now.” You argued. “They won’t be the same.” 

Carefully, Alexia took your face in between her hands, insistently gazing down at you. “I know. They’ll be different. They won’t hurt you so much anymore, and that is all I want. Nothing will make me happier than you feeling better. I will love them, just like I love you.” She promised, her voice low and soothing. “You could get them removed completely, you could do anything, and it wouldn’t change how I feel about you. This is your body, mi amor. I love your body, and I will love it even when it changes.” 

“But… it doesn’t have to change.” Chewing on your lip, you took in your girlfriend’s completely puzzled expression. 

“I don’t understand. It doesn’t have to change, but you want it to, no?”

“I… don’t you think I’m being dramatic about this? A whole surgery just for some back pain…” Your words were not things you really believed. You knew you weren’t being dramatic, and you knew you were getting this done because of more than just back pain, although if you had, that would have been okay too. You’d just spent the last years hearing from your family and your doctors that you were being dramatic about your pain and the issues that came with having an absurdly large chest. Even getting a surgeon to agree to do the surgery was difficult, though you wouldn’t have even gotten there at all without Alexia. 

Not until you were with her, did you find yourself being believed. When you said you were hurting, she believed you. She wasn’t skeptical that you were exaggerating, or just looking for attention. It was this earnest belief that had you reconsidering, and ultimately deciding on, a breast reduction. Now, though, the years that people had spent belittling you and your struggles were rushing back to you, and you very suddenly felt like you were being ridiculous. 

The lights flickered on in the bedroom, and Alexia rolled back over to you. Having been lost in your thoughts, you’d missed her roll away to turn the bedside lamp on, and now she was studying you with a focused look on her face; one you knew to mean she was concerned. 

Her hand found yours, and she absentmindedly pulled the shoulder of your shirt back up as she spoke. “It is not a little back pain. It is debilitating. This affects your whole life, amor, you’ve wanted this for years. You know you aren’t being dramatic. Where is this coming from, hmm?” 

There was a deep reluctance in you to tell Alexia what you’d been through in the past with doctors and your family alike. You weren’t sure where it came from, or why it was so persistent, but you were too exhausted to fight it. Too terrified to even think of doing something that would make your anxiety spike. 

Your girlfriend seemed to sense this reluctance, because she brought your intertwined hands to her lips, leaving a kiss on your knuckles. A part of you had expected her to be annoyed for not talking, but another part of you knew better. Alexia didn’t get mad about stuff like that. All she had for you now was a sweet smile, and another kiss for your cheek that had you blushing unnecessarily. 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” She promised, mumbling the words against your face as she interspersed kisses in between her words. “You are not being dramatic. Your body changing does not bother me, could never bother me. I love you, and everything is going to be okay.” 

Entire body seemingly deflating, you leaned heavily into your girlfriend, torn between exhaustion, anxiety, and the overwhelming feeling of being adored. It wasn’t one were sure you’d ever get used to. With your face tucked into Alexia’s chest, it was hard to feel anything but safe and reassured, so you focused on the soft fabric of her shirt against your cheek, instead of what would be occurring the following morning. 

“I love you.” You murmured, burrowing in closer when your girlfriend tightened her arms around you. “Ale?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you come with me tomorrow? And stay?” You hated the vulnerability seeping from your words, didn’t want Alexia to ever see you as pathetically as you saw yourself. 

She only nodded, though, rubbing your back slowly. “Of course, cariño.” 

“It’s not too late to get out of training?” 

Alexia gave you a soft smile, though slightly embarrassed, rubbing her thumb across your cheek affectionately. “I am already called out, mi amor. I was going to stay anyway.”

“You were?” You asked with a shy grin. 

Alexia nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. I thought you might change your mind, and if you didn’t, well… I would have just pretended to go to training. I want to be there for you, and I would not be able to focus anyway.” 

You were overcome, for a moment, with affection for your girlfriend. She always seemed to anticipate what you’d need even before you knew herself. There was something about not only being loved, but known by Alexia that made you feel like the most special person in the world. You felt it even more when she placed the gentlest of kisses on your lips, and smiled at you just enough that the dimples on her cheeks appeared. 

“I am so lucky to have you.” You murmured, feeling emotion tug at you once again. 

Alexia shook her head with a grin, almost exasperated. “It always amazes me that you think you are the lucky one, when it is me. Because you are perfect and beautiful and I love you.” 

Before you could reply, and begin a back and forth of who was luckier, Alexia had pulled you to lay down practically on top of her, stretching her long arm to turn the bedside lamp off. 

“You need to rest, amor.” She insisted. And though when you’d woken from the nightmare, you had been sure you wouldn’t be sleeping any more tonight, there was something so soothing about being held so securely against your girlfriend. Your eyes began to shut of their own accord when she began to run her fingers through your hair, and you wondered briefly if there was anything Alexia couldn’t do.

------

The following morning came much too quickly. The first alarm went off at 6, only rousing you. Knowing you still had 15 minutes before you had to get up and get ready, you curled yourself back into Alexia’s side, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that today was no different than any other day. Of course, the persistent anxious shaking of your body woke your girlfriend, though, an alarm in and of itself. 

It took her a second to realize what had woken her, as she couldn’t hear the alarm going off. Soon, though, she processed the way you were clinging to her, feeling her heart simultaneously melt and break.

“Oh, mi amor.” Alexia sighed, sliding her hand up the back of your shirt and splaying it across your spine, knowing you liked to feel her skin on yours. 

“Sorry I woke you early.” You whispered. 

“Don’t be sorry. I am always happy for 15 extra minutes to lay with you.” She said sweetly, tucking her face into your hair and sighing contentedly. She knew that if she kept herself calm, and didn’t react to your anxiety with her own, you’d be able to stay calmer. 

It felt like only minutes later that your second alarm was going off, and you groaned into your girlfriend’s chest as it did. Extracting herself from your rather tenacious grip, Alexia quickly rose from the bed and walked around to your side, grabbing your hand before you could bury yourself under the covers. 

“No hiding, amor. Time to be brave for me, sí?” 

Not one to deny any of your girlfriend’s requests, you let her tug you from the bed with a pout, one she very determinedly kissed off your face. Once she was done with that, she pulled you into the bathroom. 

“Okay. Shower quickly, I will eat something, and then we leave at 7:03.” She said, as if that was a normal time to plan to leave. You were long used to Alexia’s strict punctuality, though, so you just shook your head fondly at her. It was only when she attempted to pull away from you that your anxiety really rose, and you clung onto her hand with a look of panic on your face. 

Alexia turned back to you, expression completely open, as if she was ready to do whatever you needed her to do to feel better. 

“Shower with me?” You asked shakily, looking up at your girlfriend with wide eyes. 

“Siempre, guapa.” 

Your movements were practically robotic as you undressed yourself and allowed Alexia to guide you into the shower. For a moment, you allowed yourself to just rest against her under the warm stream of water, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly. As always when you showered together, Alexia insisted on washing you herself. Somehow, she knew that you needed to use the special medical soap on your chest, but could use your regular body wash everywhere else. 

You thought you caught a glimpse of sadness as she gently washed over your chest, and she must have felt you stiffen under her hands, because she was tilting your chin up and looking down at you, forehead crinkled in concern. 

“Are you sure you won’t hate what I look like after?” You asked, voice wobbling. 

Your girlfriend’s face softened. “I am sure. I will love you all the same.”

“You won’t miss them?” 

“Oh I will miss them. I should say farewell, no? Goodbye,” Alexia said wistfully, cupping each of your breasts in her hands. “I will miss you, but I will be happy when you stop bothering my pretty girlfriend.” 

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, flushing at the attention on your chest, but feeling your heart soar at how genuinely she seemed to mean what she was saying. You appreciated her honesty. It wouldn’t have been believable that she wouldn’t miss them at all; the blonde had made it very clear in your time together that she very much enjoyed them. But for Alexia, she’d happily give that up if it meant that you were happier and more comfortable. And then felt like another level of love she must have for you. 

 Alexia leaned down to kiss you again, this time a bit more intensely as the water rained down over your heads. 

She broke away after a minute, a satisfied smile on her face telling you she was pleased that she had successfully distracted you. And distracted, you were. 

“Do we have time to-”

“No.” Alexia said sternly. “That is why we made sure to have enough time last night. We will not be late because you are horny even after I made you co-”

“OKAY. I don’t want a reminder if I can’t really enjoy the reminder.” You argued, barely noticing how Alexia turned the shower off and wrapped you in a towel. She really was doing a good job distracting you, because the mere step forward in your morning routine didn’t make you nauseous like it normally would have. 

The rest of the morning, Alexia went out of her way to keep you distracted. Whether it was giving herself a beard with bubbles in the shower, or forcing you to have an impromptu dance party in the kitchen while she ate a quick breakfast, your girlfriend gave you very little time for your mind to wander. Once you were in the car, though, it was inevitable. You were on the way, and there was nothing else to think about. 

Alexia kept her hand on you throughout the ride, noticing as you grew quieter as she pulled out of the drive, and brushed a few tears away when you thought she wasn’t looking. 

“Alright, mi amor?” She checked, well aware that you were not even close to alright.

“I’m so scared.” You whispered, Alexia just barely hearing your voice over the hum of the car engine. She moved her hand from your bouncing knee to grab onto your hand, squeezing it three times. 

“I know. Everything is going to be okay, amor. They do this every day, you will be in such good hands.” 

“What if I wake up in the middle?”

“You will not.” She sounded so sure. 

“What if I don’t wake up at all?

“You will wake up.” Again, her voice was filled with confidence. Whether it was truly what she believed, or if she was just saying it for your sake, you didn’t know, but you appreciated it nonetheless. 

“What if something goes wrong and I come out with three boobs or something?” 

“I will buy a sewing machine, and get to work making bras for three boobs.” Alexia said seriously. 

You gave a wet laugh, wiping at your eyes. Alexia smiled at you happily, fixing her eyes back on the road as the light turned green. Her hand didn’t leave yours the rest of the way to the hospital. 

------

Without Alexia there with you, it was likely that you would have bolted out the front doors of the hospital within a few minutes of arriving. You weren’t alone, though, and Alexia began to resort to absolutely ridiculous tactics to distract you and see a smile on your face. 

First, she blew up a glove she found in the room you were brought to wait in and then let it fly all around. It wasn’t really funny but the way she released it, and then looked at you with a hopeful grin on her face made you laugh anyway. If you counted correctly she made six bad jokes when they made you take a pregnancy test, that had you giggling even though they were quite juvenile. As the nurse put your IV in, the blonde reminded you of the time she got stitches in her leg on the sidelines of the football pitch, in the middle of the game, going so far as to point out the scar on her shin that you’d seen many times before. This wasn’t really funny either, but the somewhat disturbed look on the nurse’s face was. 

She was goofy when you needed her to be, she was serious and listened carefully whenever anyone was telling her important information, and she didn’t let go of your hand for the entirety of the pre op process. The minute your heart began to pound in your chest, or tears began to well in your eyes, you’d feel her squeeze your hand, and feel inexplicably comforted. Realistically, you knew Alexia had no ability to keep you safe once you were in the operating room. Still, you had the overwhelming feeling that because she was here with you, nothing bad could happen. 

“Okay, it’s time.” The nurse said kindly, walking into the room just moments after the surgeon had left. He had drawn all over you while answering Alexia’s seemingly endless questions about your recovery. 

You looked at the blonde next to you, willing yourself to remain calm, breathe deeply. She leaned in, kissing you softly. Once on the lips, then once on each cheek. 

“I love you. You are going to do so well, mi amor. I will be right here when you wake up.” She promised, helping you to your feet and squeezing your hand one last time. “Brave for me, okay?” the last part was whispered just for you to hear, and you nodded.

You could be brave for her. For her, you could do anything. 

“I love you, Ale.” 

She smiled at you until you disappeared out of sight, finally allowing the anxiety she’d been repressing all morning to let itself be known. It was going to be a long three hours, and she’d known that. She was absolutely resolved not to let you see her own nerves, knowing they’d only make you feel worse. Already calling her Mami as she was led to the waiting room, she hoped she did a good job at making you feel more comfortable. And she hoped, more than anything, that you’d be okay. 

-------

It felt nearly impossible to keep your eyes open. They opened and closed of their own accord, the room a bit different every time. Very vaguely, you recognized the surgeon coming to talk to you, saying something about everything going well. A nurse asked you about pain, and you focused enough to notice a slight twinge on your chest. 

The only coherent thought you had, though, was of your girlfriend. She said she’d be here when you woke up, and the beautiful blonde was nowhere in sight. 

“Would you like a sip of water?” The nurse asked kindly, holding a straw up to your mouth. You shook your head, though, frowning dramatically. 

“Alexia.” You murmured, eyes falling shut once again. The nurse chuckled, replying even though she wasn’t sure you were hearing her. The heart monitor attached to you was making a rhythmic beeping sound, and you were bobbing your head along to it gently, though you didn’t seem aware of it.  

“We’ll bring you out of recovery in a few minutes, and then you can see her.” 

Sure enough, you felt the strange sensation that you were moving, before you opened your eyes once again. Now in a different room, there was a smiling face next to yours, a gentle touch on your cheek. 

“Ale.” You sighed happily, eyes half shut, but a big smile adorning your features. 

“Hi, bonita.” Alexia chuckled. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmm.” You hummed. “Sleepy.” 

Alexia thought you looked incredibly adorable, all groggy and happy to see her. Clumsily, you reached for her hand, pulling it to cup your cheek. Your girlfriend laughed lightly, stroking her thumb over your cheek bone. 

“Are you in any pain?” 

“I loveeeeeee you.” You sang, clumsily patting her face with your free hand. 

Alexia laughed again, her features soft as she gazed down at you. “I love you too, cariño. Can you tell me if anything hurts?” 

“Nothin’ hurts.” You slurred. “Are my boobs small?” 

“Sí, look. The buttons on your shirt aren’t pulling apart anymore.” 

You’d bought several cotton button up pajama shirts especially for the occasion, having been told not to lift your arms above your head to put a shirt on. As always occurred with button ups, though, the buttons pulled tightly across your chest. Or, they had. Now, the shirt sat unstretched across your chest, and you felt a staggering amount of joy course through you. 

“Oh.” You said weakly, blinking hard as your eyes filled with tears. 

Alexia’s face fell. “What? Does something hurt? What’s wrong?” She asked frantically, looking around for something to stop the pain you weren’t actually feeling. 

“No, no. It’s good, it’s happy. They’re small and my shirt fits. Shirts like this never fit right and now they do.” You cried, too out of it to really feel embarrassed for crying so hard over such a small thing. 

“Oh, amor.” Alexia whispered, feeling like crying herself. She knew more than anyone how much you struggled with the way you’d looked before. She’d genuinely never seen you look so happy over your appearance before, and it was her new favorite thing. “I’m so happy you’re happy.” 

“I’m happy.” You mumbled, allowing Alexia to dry your face of tears. Carefully, Alexia brought the water to your lips again, and this time you drank some, feeling more and more awake with every passing second. And even though she was pretty sure you wouldn't remember this later, Alexia had to make sure you knew something. 

“You know what, amor?” She asked. 

“What?”

“You are beautiful. Even more beautiful now, with such a happy smile on your face.” 

It didn’t matter that you’d just cried, or that your hair was a mess. It didn’t matter that you were decidedly not beautiful at the moment. Because Alexia thought you were, and that made you think it, too. More than ever before, you felt beautiful like she said you were. 

------ 

The first two days went pretty smoothly. Everything ached a bit too much for you to really do anything on your own, and Alexia was more than happy to help. The trouble came after you were given clearance to shower, on the third day of your recovery. You wanted to do it by yourself, and Alexia was insisting on helping you. 

“No, Ale.” You snapped, trying to sit up and get out of bed on your own. Alexia wouldn’t move, though, still perched next to your legs, arms resting on either side of you, and honestly, you needed her help to get upright. 

She was being overly patient with you, and that only bothered you more; you didn’t like to be treated like you were fragile. “Amor, it says in the instructions, ‘have someone nearby to help for the first few showers.’’” 

“Nearby. Not in the bathroom with me. I’ll be fine, please just let me do this myself.” 

“It is not safe, I would like to be in there with you. I don’t understand, you have never had a problem with showering me before.” Alexia’s hazel eyes squinted at you, as though she was trying to visually ascertain what the issue was. 

“It’s different.” You grumbled, feeling your stomach twist at the idea of your girlfriend having to do another thing for you. Enough was enough, you had to be independent. If you couldn’t shower on your own, you’d feel completely helpless and you hated to feel helpless. 

“How is it different?” Alexia wondered, her patience with you still unwavering. 

“It just is! Move so I can get up, please.” 

The blonde just shook her head. “Not until you tell me how it’s different.”

“Alexia, I am disgusting right now, I’m gonna be all bruised and swollen and I haven’t showered in two days. It’s gross, I’m gross.”

She didn’t even blink, as though she’d already known this. “I don’t care about that, cariño. I just want to make this easier for you. Please let me help.”

“I don’t need help.” 

“You do, and that’s okay. Please, amor, just let me come into the bathroom with you. I’ll sit on the counter if you want me to, but let me be in the room. Please.”

Your girlfriend had a way of asking you things and making her eyes wide as she did so, making you agree without really thinking. It was genuinely difficult to say no to someone so pretty, who very clearly just wanted the best for you. This was how you found yourself in the bathroom, allowing Alexia to carefully unbutton your shirt and remove the bra from your chest. 

You’d tried to do it yourself at first, but it was ridiculously difficult to get your arms to do what you wanted them to do without pressing against your chest or your sides, and your yelp of pain had Alexia firmly telling you that she was helping you, and that was that. 

You waited for her face to turn disgusted, or at least for her eyes to give her away. It didn’t happen. She looked pained at the sight of the bruising on your body, but that was sympathetic. The kiss she gave you filled your body with warmth, but that warmth disappeared as soon as Alexia stepped away to turn on the shower, and you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. 

It was the first time you were really seeing your reflection, seeing the full results of what had been done, and you were more than a little horrified. 

When Alexia turned back around to help you into the shower, you had turned several shades paler, and your legs were shaking. Eyes fixed on your chest in the mirror, you looked completely disgusted with what you saw reflecting back at you. 

 Worried that you would pass out or something, Alexia stepped in behind you, carefully placing her large hands on your upper arms to hold you steady. “Amor? Feeling okay?”

“Dizzy.” You managed, leaning back into her. Alexia grabbed the water she’d had the foresight to bring into the bathroom, and carefully urged you to take a few sips. She knew how you were with stuff like this, ever since you’d passed out once watching her get stitches after a nasty tackle. 

“Just breathe. In through your nose, and out through your mouth. Don’t look if it’s bothering you.” 

“I-I… please don’t look, either, Ale.” You requested, shutting your eyes tightly. Alexia only hummed in response, resting her chin on your shoulder and rubbing her hands up and down your arms. “It’s awful, it’s so gross.” 

The bruising and the sight of the incisions through the tape over them was enough to make you nauseous, but Alexia being there only made it worse. She shouldn’t have to see you like this. 

She seemed unphased, though, her eyes on your face in the mirror, not distracted by your chest. “It looks exactly as the doctor said it should look. Your body went through so much, healing isn’t going to be perfect and pretty. Everything is okay, I promise. Just look at my face, and focus on me. Everything is okay.” 

You did as she asked, breathing deeply for a few minutes, your eyes fixed on hers in the mirror. Only when some color had returned to your face, and you weren’t shaking as badly, did Alexia move from where her body pressed to yours. 

“Are you ready? She murmured in your ear, enjoying that at least from this angle, from behind you, she could feel your body against hers. You enjoyed it too, your head dropping back to her shoulder as you nodded. “Okay. We’ll go quick. I’ll wash your body, wash your hair and then you can lay down.” 

Too afraid of what would happen if you stepped into the shower by yourself, you nodded again. 

It always struck you how gentle Alexia could be. On the pitch she was a force to be reckoned with, her body a well oiled machine that always got the job done. Her job was so physical, it always surprised you how soft her hands were, how gentle her touch was. 

She was so careful with you, especially now. The blonde maneuvered you under the stream of water, getting to work right away, as if she knew how exhausted you already were, just from standing for a few minutes. She hummed as she worked the loofa across your skin, intermittently leaving kisses wherever she saw fit. Done with that, Alexia moved on to your hair, her fingers feeling absolutely magical on your scalp after several days of it being tied back in a bun. 

You were mostly silent, only speaking to reply to Alexia’s quiet check ins every few minutes. It was only when she was facing you, massaging the conditioner out of your hair as you tilted your head back under the stream of water, that you said anything of substance. 

“Thank you for helping.” 

“Always.” Alexia mumbled, her lips pressed to your forehead. “I miss hugging you.”

You melted even further, as if the careful way she washed your hair for you wasn’t soft enough. “You’re adorable.” 

“No, I am tough and strong.” Alexia objected. 

“And incredibly adorable.” You insisted. For the first time that day, Alexia saw the ghost of a smile on your lips, and she made herself a promise that she’d make you smile more often. Even if she had to be ridiculous to do so, though it would prove to be harder than she wanted. 

------

It felt like there was a dark cloud hanging over you. You were irritated and depressed and near tears for no discernible reason. Alright, there was a reason, but you were too upset to really think rationally about it. Everything hurt more once you’d stopped taking the prescription painkillers you’d been prescribed, and the lack of the drugs was definitely not helping your mood. The last two days had been horrible, your recovery hitting a wall. It had been a week exactly, and suddenly, nothing was moving fast enough. 

Now that you were used to the sight, your breasts didn’t seem as small as they had at first. They were swollen, you kept reminding yourself, but the worry that they wouldn’t be small enough, that you’d gone through all this for nothing, persisted. It didn't matter that logically, you knew they were smaller. You’d seen what was removed, been told the measurements, and still. You’d convinced yourself they looked mostly the same. It hurt to move and showering took you at least an hour every time. You hyper fixated on your appearance, worried that now that your chest was supposedly smaller, everything else would be bigger. Alexia kept taking days off work, and when she didn’t, her mother or her sister would randomly show up with something random to drop off or pick up. You hated that she felt like she couldn’t leave you alone, and you hated even more that she was right to feel that way. You couldn’t lift anything, could barely sit up on your own. Your girlfriend was stuck helping you with every little thing, from showering to walking down the stairs. It was miserable. 

It felt like she asked you every other minute if you were in pain. And god, you were. More than you thought you’d be. Everytime, though, your answer was the same. Just a bit, you’d tell her. Both of you knew you were lying. You’d grit your teeth and bear it, unwilling or perhaps unable to admit to Alexia that your chest ached and stung and pulled and hurt. Your brain didn’t feel much better. 

Of course, Alexia knew you were miserable. The doctor had warned her this might happen; it wasn’t uncommon for individuals to fall into a depression after surgery like this. There were a lot of complex emotions involved. Combine those emotions with pain and narcotics, of course you didn’t feel like yourself. She’d been awake last night, when you’d cried next to her, holding her hand like a lifeline even as you stayed as quiet as you could. Alexia knew you didn’t want her to see you in pain, and if she could bring you comfort because you thought she was asleep… she’d take that. 

Still, though, every part of her ached with how sad you seemed, and how shut down you’d become. She was sure that if you talked about even one of the things bothering you, you’d feel so much better. You weren’t talking, though, and Alexia was running out of ways to help you. 

The blonde had one final idea before she broke and called your doctor to tell him that you just weren’t coping well, and she really didn’t want to do that. So, she made you tea, put on a boring documentary, and played with your hair until you were half asleep on top of the covers of your bed, as snuggled into Alexia’s pillow as you could get at the moment. 

She gently roused you, informing you that she had to run out for groceries but she’d be back very soon, before grabbing her list and slipping out the front door. Alexia had assumed you’d gone right back to sleep, but you hadn’t.

Instead, you’d realized you had to use the bathroom, dragging yourself off your bed and into the bathroom. It was there that you bumped into the door, which hurt way more than it normally would have. It had been the last straw of an already horrible day, and you just couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t be brave anymore. 

Alexia had been in such a rush to leave so she could come back, that she forgot her wallet, turning the car around only a few minutes into her drive to return and grab it. 

“Amor, I forgot my-” Alexia’s whispered words halted as she walked into the bedroom, and the sounds of your sobs hit her ears. You weren’t in bed where she’d left you, and your girlfriend whipped her head around in panic. “Baby, where are you?” She shouted, able to tell that you were closeby. Answering her own question, she rushed towards the bathroom, only relaxing slightly when she found you. 

Hunched over by the sink, your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs. Somewhere in her mind, Alexia realized that the movement was likely causing you pain. The blonde hadn’t ever heard you cry this hard in her life, and when you whipped your head around to look at her when she pushed the door open, you looked broken. You only looked more upset at the sight of her, and your girlfriend tried not to panic. 

“Baby, are you hurting?” Alexia questioned, moving forward as her hands fluttered uselessly in the air. All you could do in response was continue to cry, and reach one shaky hand towards the blonde. “I need you to talk to me.” 

It was all just too much; you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You needed her to kiss you and hold you and promise that everything would be okay. “I..I- hurts, Ale, it hurts so bad.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Alexia frowned, giving your hand a squeeze. “What can I do?” 

“I d-don’t know, it just hurts.” You sobbed, your chest stuttering. 

“The crying is not helping, amor, try to breathe.” She encouraged, exaggerating her own breaths for you to copy. It worked only slightly, and your face was still contorted in pain. “Let me get you some more medicine.” 

“No, stay.” You panicked, only tightening your grip on your girlfriend’s hand. 

“Okay, I’m right here.” She cooed, trying to move closer and give you a gentle hug. You winced away from her, though, in too much pain and too afraid of it worsening to allow her close to you. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whimpered, wanting the pain to stop if only so she could hug you. 

Pausing and pursing her lips, your girlfriend tried to think logically. Getting up was difficult for you, standing only worse.  Sitting propped up on the bed was the only way for you to be even slightly comfortable, so Alexia took each of your hands in hers. “Back to bed, okay? You’ll feel better sitting.” 

You nodded, and allowed your girlfriend to carefully lead you out of the bathroom, and back towards the bed. “Okay, almost there. You’re doing so well.” 

It felt ridiculous to be praised for something as simple as walking back to bed, especially as you needed her help to do so. Still, she sounded so earnest and encouraging you couldn’t doubt her sincerity. 

Alexia got you settled on the bed just how you liked, and adjusted the pillows until they were just right. You sighed shakily, shifting as you tried to get comfortable. 

“Tell me how to help you.” Alexia practically pleaded. 

“I want ice please.” You sniffled, desperate for anything to numb the pain on your body, and the pain inside your head. Alexia tucked the blanket around you, using her thumb to wipe a few tears off your cheeks, gazing at you regretfully. 

“I’m sorry, amor, the doctor said no ice, remember? It is bad for the circulation. I can get you more medicine and a cool towel for your head?” Her suggestions felt weak, and she wished she could just take it from you, take away how badly you felt. 

You nodded, a few more tears falling from your eyes as you did so. It seemed to Alexia as though every time she offered to help you, you cried more. She rose to go get what she needed, and you let your head fall back on the pillows, a few quiet sobs escaping. You wished you could stop needing her so badly. 

Crying too hard to notice her return, you jumped when she placed her hand on your upper arm, crying out quietly as you did so. 

“Easy, amor.” She soothed, handing you two pills and holding a straw to your lips. Once you took the medicine, she wiped the tears off your face with the wet washcloth in her hand, her features wrinkled with worry. You hadn’t stopped crying, and she didn’t know what else to do to help you. 

“Are you crying because it hurts, or because of something else?” She wondered. 

“I don’t know, I just can’t stop.” You whimpered, clutching almost desperately at your girlfriend’s hand. 

Letting out a sad, sympathetic sound you’d never heard her make, Alexia took her place on her side of the bed, scooting over so she was pressed up against the pillow that was pressed up against you. It was the best she could do at the moment, even if she wanted to pull you into her and never let go. You reached over the pillow to grab onto her hoodie, the brown one with holes all over it you liked to make fun of. She’d put it on earlier, hoping you’d do just that, but she’d had no luck. 

Alexia just watched you for a few minutes, both of her hands on you, tracing patterns into your skin wherever she was sure wouldn’t hurt you. It became clear to her that you were exhausting yourself, your eyes barely even open anymore as you wiped at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. 

“Amor, you need rest.” She whispered, watching your eyes flutter open to look at her helplessly. 

How were you supposed to sleep when you were so upset? 

“I can’t.” 

“Try for me. Close your eyes, relax your body.” The blonde instructed, smiling despite herself as you instantly did as she asked. Grabbing the cool washcloth again, she folded it in half and draped it over your eyes. Sighing you settled back into the pillows a bit, chest still stuttering every few seconds, but less intensely than it had been. “Sleep, cariño. I’m right here, I love you, and everything is okay.” 

Her words had an incomprehensible power over you, and it wasn’t long before you were barely clinging to consciousness. The tears had stopped, and all you could really think about was that you were really glad that Alexia was here with you. 

------

Alexia wasn’t sure how long you’d cried for before your grip on her sweatshirt had gone slack, and you’d finally relaxed. She let you sleep for an hour or so, though, unmoving so she didn’t disturb you. She busied herself with her phone, placing an order of the things she needed so she didn’t have to leave you, but mostly, she just watched you sleep. Swollen and red eyes, tear stained face, uncomfortable frown on your face even as you slept, you were still the most beautiful person she’d ever seen in her life. 

Once the delivery was made, your girlfriend slipped out of bed as carefully as she could, heading for the front door. Turning around with the bags from the front porch in hand, Alexia jumped a little at the sight of you standing behind her. She hadn’t heard you follow her out of the bedroom, but she saw you now, more tears falling down your flushed face. 

“Hey,” she said soothingly, moving closer even as you backed away from her. 

“You were supposed to go grocery shopping and I ruined it,” you cried, feeling a little ridiculously upset that you’d messed up her plans. You just thought she needed the time away from you. It wasn’t as though you were pleasant to be around right now. “You didn't get to run your errands, I’m so sorry.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, mi amor.” Alexia cooed. “Come on, sit on the couch for me, and I’ll show you what I got.” 

Sniffling, Alexia led you to the couch, helping you sit down and once again, placing the excessive amount of pillows exactly as you liked them. She began to pull items out of the bags once she sat down next to you, explaining what she’d gotten as she did so in a very quiet, almost shy voice. 

“A new candle, it makes the crackle sounds you like. Your favorite candy. Some roses, and I will put them in a vase and you could put them next to your bed, if you want. This is supposed to be a cooling blanket, so you don’t get too warm. I noticed you were almost out of the hair ties you use, so I got more of those. You liked that one button up shirt you got, so I got more because they are easier than other shirts, and these are very soft.” She listed everything out, putting it all on the coffee table in front of you. 

It was endless, the number of things she’d bought for you. Favorite snacks, a book you’d mentioned wanting to read once. A new coffee mug, even though she always complained that you had too many already, just because she knew you’d like the color. One bag was full of the ingredients to make your favorite dinner. She grabbed the last bag off the floor, really rambling now that you hadn’t said a word in at least 2 minutes. 

“I can return this if you don’t want it.” She finished, pressing the small, plush elephant into your hands as her face turned red. “I thought he could keep you company when I’m at work, but it’s probably stupid-”

You cut her off, tucking the elephant under one arm as you tilted her chin up with your other. Her face fell further, because you were still crying. 

She didn’t know that they were no longer sad tears. 

“I love you.” You blubbered, absolutely sure that there weren't words to describe how grateful you were for her at that moment. Ale, your perfect, sweet Ale. What had you done in your life to deserve her? “I love the elephant, I love everything. What did you do all this for?” 

Alexia looked at you incredulously, her fingers linking with yours. “You have been so down. I just wanted to make you smile. I thought maybe one of these things could.” 

“Oh. I… I didn’t know you noticed. I thought I was doing a good job hiding it.” 

You would never be winning an Oscar, Alexia thought to herself. “Why would you hide that from me?” She wondered, her face adorably confused. 

“You’re dealing with enough from me right now, you don’t need-”

“I decide what I need and don’t need.” Alexia cut in, her voice so firm it had your head snapping up to stare at her. She wasn’t angry, though, just… passionate. “Don’t push me away because you think you are being too much. I knew what I was getting into when you scheduled this surgery. I arranged to have time off so I could take care of you. I know you are hurting and I know you are upset, and I want nothing more than for you to talk to me.” 

“You’re too good to me.” You murmured, eyes flitting all over her face, trying to memorize the sincere expression on her face. 

“This is what you deserve.” Alexia disagreed, her knee shifting over until it pressed into yours. “Now, I know you are hurting because you just had surgery, but I do not know what has you so sad. Can you tell me? Please?”

How could you say no to that? The issue was, you weren’t even sure where to start. “There’s too many things. I’m just… I don’t feel right.” 

Alexia hummed. “Amor, it is normal to be depressed after a surgery like this. It says in the post op notes, your doctor talked to me about it. This is normal, how you are feeling is normal and it isn’t going to last forever.”

It was the same thing you’d been telling yourself, except now it echoed around your head in Alexia’s voice, and that held so much more meaning. Nodding meekly, you wondered if you should keep going. 

“What else?” 

Nervously, you glanced down at your chest. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful. Not everyone got the chance to have this surgery, even if they needed it, and it felt so disgusting to complain. The feeling that they were still too big was unshakeable, though. 

“You don’t like how they look.” Alexia stated simply. You stared at her, jaw dropped, wondering suddenly if she could read minds. She gave you a small smile, tugging at her ponytail and fiddling with the ends of her hair. “That is normal, too. I read about it. They don’t feel different enough?” 

“No.” You replied quietly, still ashamed of your feelings. 

“They are still swollen. It will take three to four months for them to look how they are going to look. You have to be patient, you have to give yourself time. I know everything is overwhelming right now, but I promise you, they are smaller, and they will get smaller still.” 

This time, Alexia raised your intertwined hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of yours. “What else?” She asked again. A mind reader, for sure, you decided. 

You bit your lip before speaking, though it was progress that you verbalized your feelings without Alexia having to guess. “I’m in so much pain. It’s taking so long to go away. You can’t do anything or go anywhere because you’re here helping me. I’m such a burden right now and I hate it. I’m so tired of this. I don’t want you to have to help me with every little thing.”

Alexia looked almost offended. “You have never been a burden a day in your life, and I am sorry that anyone has ever made you feel that way. I am happy to be here, and help you heal. Really, amor. You’ve wanted this for so long, and this part isn’t very fun, but you’re doing so well. It hurts, and it sucks, I know that. It feels like it’s taking forever, but it’s just barely been a week. You aren’t helping yourself by keeping all these negative thoughts in your head, either.”

“Probably not.” You agreed timidly. 

“Probably not.” Alexia echoed, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I am here for you because I want to be, so let me help, okay? It isn’t your instinct to tell me when you are hurting, or when you need help, but I want you to try, okay? Just try.” 

“I’ll try.” You promised. Because, honestly, if Alexia was this good at making all your fears and stressors melt away and she was happy to do it, there was no justification for suffering in silence anymore. 

“I”m proud of you. You are doing so well, and I love you. Everything is going to feel better soon, and until then, I am right here with you.”

“Are you going somewhere once I am better?” You asked teasingly, just the hint of a smile tugging at your lips. This did not go unnoticed by your girlfriend, who leaned closer and got a look on her face you knew to be her I just won look. 

“A smile.” Alexia grinned, pressing her forehead against yours, still making sure to give your entire midsection a wide berth. 

“It’s just for you.” You whispered, holding eye contact with her, and enjoying that it no longer felt insincere because you were keeping so much to yourself. 

“I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” Alexia promised. Her words were barely more than a warm exhale on your mouth, and before long, she was brushing her soft lips against yours, giving you the world’s most careful kiss. 

She had magical kisses, you decided. Magic hands, as they linked with yours. A magic smile that made you grin, too. Good taste in get better soon gifts, you thought, picking up the elephant and asking her if she’d thought of a name for it. 

“Alex.” She smirked, looking rather proud of herself. 

And maybe she had egotistical taste in names, but you were more convinced every second that she was right, that things would get better, and a bit of ego was something you could handle. Especially when it came wrapped up in a package with overwhelming amounts of love and care. You were the luckiest girl in the world, you’d never been more sure of that. 

Hours later, after you’d eaten your favorite dinner and lit your new candle, settling into bed with a much more relaxed look on your face, Alexia thought the same thing. She was the luckiest to have you. Your smile was worth everything, and she’d missed it these past few days. It didn’t feel like she’d have to miss it anymore, though, especially as you drifted off, your hand in hers. Lips curved just slightly upward. You always had a smile to give Alexia. 

------

i'm honestly not sure if this is too niche for people to enjoy, so i'd appreciate any thoughts anyone has :) this feels wildly vulnerable and i will do my absolute best to not get embarrassed and delete it 🙏 love to you all 🫶🏻🫶🏻🥰🥰

[rhysazriel]

Feel My Touch [Azriel]

SUMMARY: After Azriel left you high and dry one night, he’s left with the task of coaxing you out of your subspace. (4.2k)

WARNINGS: kissing, teasing, swearing, smut, dirty talk, dom/sub relationship, unprotected sex, very brief mentions of daddy kink 

A/N: in my humble opinion, Azriel and subspace should always go hand in hand together, he is a dom!!

You’d been feeling a little soft the past couple of days. Azriel had been busy most days with gathering information against the mortal queens, leaving you to your own devices until the sun allowed the moon to shine and he loved on you a little. 

You’d been patient, to say the least, and last night he took his frustrations from the day out on you and offered no aftercare to follow.

It was something he’d done (or rather, hadn’t) a few times, but only when he had a bad day or he needed to teach you a lesson – when you’d been a bad girl. Well, you’d been a very good girl so you were awfully confused last night when Azriel fell asleep moments after slipping out of you; not offering any love or care that he usually showered you with after.

You were unable to sleep – too caught in your own head trying to figure out what you did to upset him. Did you forget to do something? Did you say something you wasn’t supposed to? You didn’t know. What you did know was that Azriel very rarely used his real dominant side unless you were in big trouble or he’d had a real bad day.

That strict rule he’d set on himself meant you’d only been in subspace once or twice before and it’d always been something to massively worry Azriel. He was used to seeing his love be this independent, badass female that didn’t let people boss you around. Not watching you mope after him with teary doe eyes and a permanent pout in your bottom lip.

But when you have one of those nights where he is ruthless and mean and doesn’t follow through with any aftercare, you’re left to coil into yourself and drown in this dark hole of submission where you feel like a tiny person that needs constant reassurance and love.  

You’d always been affectionate; you both were–Azriel more so secretly–but when you were in that turmoil state, it was worse. You’d seem like a child that leeched onto his limbs and wanted to sit in his lap while sucking on his fingers as he read a book. You never truly realised you did those things in your sub head because you seemed to disassociate from yourself and into a childlike mindframe.

The first time it happened, Azriel made the situation worse. He thought that by showering you with affection and love, he’d be able to coax you out of it. Unfortunately, it shoved you deeper into your dark hole and took almost three days to get you back to your normal state and frame of mind.

The second time it happened, he tried another approach. He was harsh and mean and demanded that you snapped out of it. It only made you coil into yourself more and for hours, all you could say was, “I’m sorry, Az. I’m sorry I was bad, please don’t hate me!” to which, Azriel’s heart broke and he coaxed you out of it again with a little more love and affection.

Maybe that was why he didn't like to delve too far into the kink very often. He much preferred you as your vibrant and independent self and if he was honest, seeing you in such a subby and insecure state had bile rising up his throat. He hated knowing that he rendered you to a helpless state outside of the bedroom. 

He’d had a long week and he knew he probably should have coddled you to his chest last night and reminded you he loved you, but he was fucking spent and when he awoke this morning to go back out again, you were still fast asleep and he didn’t want to wake you.

He hoped to come home to you lounging on the sofa with some snacks or wine waiting for him. But when he rolled home at 7:30 and kicked his shoes off at the door, he was greeted with the complete opposite. There was no warm scent of cookies wafting through the house and the sofa was bare with the cushions placed neatly; like you hadn’t sat down in hours.

Azriel made his way closer into the house with furrowed brows and a twitching nose. He could very clearly smell garlic and a cheesy hint of tomato sauces and meatballs. When he crept into the kitchen, he found you dishing up two plates of your homemade spaghetti and meatballs and popping little garlic dough balls into a side dish.

Your dining table was decorated with wax candles and two tall glasses of wine, the good cutlery put out by their placemats and Azriel was certain he could also smell a hint of caramel chocolate that you’d no doubt baked a cake from. 

His brows were still furrowed as your back stayed turned to him. Your hair was thrown in a messy nest atop your head and you were in nothing but a pair of tube socks and one of his dress shirts.

“What’s all this?” he coughed out to clear his throat and catch your attention. You had both plates in your hands as you spun around with slightly widened eyes and a big, toothy smile. 

“You’re home!” You squeaked, placing the dishes of piping food on the placemats. You reached for him on your tiptoes, pressing a longing kiss to his chapped lips and he kissed back but didn’t let his eyes close like yours did.

“I am, what’s the occasion?” he asked again, hands on your hips as you wrapped your little arms around his broad shoulders. 

His dress shirt rode up your body as you stretched and he could feel the delicate skin of your hips and soft material of your cotton underwear beneath his palm.

You seemed to blush at the question, avoiding making eye contact with him but Azriel tried to chase your line of vision to force it upon you. You tried to shimmy out of his grip but Azriel wouldn’t  have any of it. He gently pinched your jaw with a bent pointer finger beneath your chin and a thumb hovering across your bottom lip.

His head dipped to get a better look at you. There was a barely familiar look in your eyes and it was only when Azriel really looked that he noticed the perk pout in your lips. He should’ve known the second he saw you that something wasn’t right. 

You never pranced around the house in his shirt unless you were sick or  having a lounge day – neither of which were currently happening.

His shadows finally allowed themselves to circle your chest and up to your neck, a few straying to your arms before they returned back to their master. 

You were in subspace.

Azriel let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his wings droop on his back. He knew this was his fault, that he basically shoved you down into that little mindset last night when he left you to sort yourself out and didn’t kiss you goodnight. He knew you were  feeling needy and just wanted to please him.

“Baby…” he cooed, both hands cupping the sides of your face and your plump lips squished slightly between his hold. 

“I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore,” you murmured in a slight whine, like the words were stuck in your throat and you were too scared to mutter them out.

Azriel leaned down and kissed softly at your mouth, nudging the tip of his nose against your own. Brushing stray chunks of hair from your face, he pulled back just enough to allow you to look at him. 

“I’m not mad at you, my love. I never was,” he told you in a gentle tone. His words were spoken in a soft drawl – slower than usual to stress how much you needed to listen to him.

You let out a pathetic whine and tears started to pool in your eyes. You wanted to argue that he was, that surely you’d done something to upset him for him to act the way he had. 

Azriel seemed to know what was running through your head. Like you were too worried to speak in case you angered him further or he punished you. 

Punished you outside of the bedroom. Something he’d never done and never would. 

“But I made you dinner to apologise. I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you mad,” you pouted in a frantic state, like you were desperate to show that whatever you did to warrant the cold shoulder after sex last night, you didn’t mean it and you were sorry.

Azriel shook his head and kissed you again. “You didn’t make me mad, angel. You never make me mad,” he mumbled against your lips. 

The look in your eyes suggested you didn’t believe him. That perhaps you were telling yourself that his gentle tone was a trap. That he’d shower you with affection before neglecting you again, right when you believe he wouldn’t. 

“I was mean last night. I didn't take care of you after, did I?” he tried to encourage you to agree, to get you to nod your head but you stayed silent.

“It’s okay, my love. I’m not mad at you, could never be mad at you, baby,” he shushed you. Azriel released his hold on your cheeks and coddled you into his warm chest, pressing comforting kisses to the top of your head as your arms wrapped around his middle.

You didn’t seem to believe him, worried that maybe he was just saying that to coax you to warm back up to him before he punished you. Maybe as soon as you start smiling he’d throw you over his knees and give you a spanking. You were unsure if that’s what your subby mind wanted or not.

Azriel pulled you out of his grasp and held your face again. There was denial swimming in your eyes. You didn’t believe that you had done anything wrong – you didn’t think you deserved to be let off the hook. Azriel squinted and tilted his head a little, trying to read what was going through your head.

Do you want to be punished? Wouldn’t that just shove you further into your submissive headspace?

He knew you, it was best not to entertain the thought of Azriel being above you—being dominant—being daddy. Every other time he’d snapped you from your subspace, he’d had to remind you that he didn’t want his little girl – that he wanted his baby, his fiancé, his strong and independent female. 

He had to remind you that he was Azriel and he wouldn’t respond to you if you didn’t address him as such. But he also had to be careful. If he didn’t go about it the right way, you could fall deeper and it was the last thing he wanted.

He leaned down to kiss at your lips again but you didn’t kiss him back. You didn’t think you should be allowed to. Azriel frowned, his lips smearing against your closed mouth. 

“Why won’t you kiss me back, baby? Just want some kisses,” he pleaded softly, nose bumping yours and he coaxed tiy to open up; to kiss him back just as gently.

“That’s better…” he breathed. 

You let yourself sink into the kiss, your arms wrapping back around his neck as your chest bumped with his. Azriel still had his hands on the sides of your flushed face and they sunk down your body in tender holds. His palms rested on the little dips in your hips as he pulled you closer. Your neck craned up to meet his kisses and he dipped down to keep your touch intact.

An idea sparked in Azriel’s head and his grip on your hips loosened. His hands snaked around to the front of your (his) shirt and he began unbuttoning it from the bottom to the top. You don’t break the kiss or comment on his advances. You let him have his way with you, do what he pleased because you thought this was it: your punishment was just beginning.

But oh, how wrong you were. 

When the shirt slipped from your shoulders and swam at your ankles, goosebumps broke across the surface of your soft skin. Your nipples pearled and they scratched against the material of his leathers. The sensation caused a careless whimper to slip from your mouth, and into his. Azriel tried not to grin at the noise and let his warm, scarred hands run up the expanse of your bare back.

“Feel good, baby?” he mumbled into your mouth, hot tongue sliding against yours and you hummed again, welcoming his heavy taste of coffee and mint. 

Your mind was in a state of turmoil. Was he going to punish you? Was this his way of proving he wasn’t mad? What was he going to do? You can’t think straight.

You nod your head, kissing back with just as much vigour as you could but Azriel slowed the pace, wanting you to just feel him. 

“Just taste my lips,” he guided. 

His mouth moved slowly across yours, touch barely there but enough for you to feel him, to taste him. The gentleness of his touch helped to clear your mind to a state of blankness where you had nothing but him.

From the thumping of the bond that tugged on his chest, Azriel knew what word was festering on the tip of your tongue. His mouth barely caressed you as his left hand came up to massage your jaw. 

“Azriel,” he corrected you before you even spoke, his words a breathless whisper. He didn’t let his eyes close and you didn’t let yours open.

He watched you keen for more, to get a stronger taste and he felt you shiver in just your underwear and tube socks. Azriel allowed his hand to wander to the backs of your thighs before hoisting your small frame into his arms. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his middle, minding the expanse of his wings, and with his lips still on yours, he carried you through the hall and into the bedroom.

He didn't throw you on the bed like you expected. Instead, Azriel slowly eased you back on the balls of your feet while keeping his tongue against your own. 

“Daddy,” you mewled as he backed out of the kiss just enough to unbutton the lapels that contained his weapons to him. 

You felt the rough graze of the leather brush across your nipples and you expected him to blindfold you, to tie you up with the belt that holstered his weapons. But he let it fall to their ankles and you were left in another state of confusion. 

“Azriel,” he corrected you again, nosing at yours and tugging the leathers off his chest. Azriel guided your small hands to his torso, allowing the heat of his skin to warm yours. 

“I’m here, Y/N. Just feel my skin,” he encouraged in a soothing mutter.

He guided your hands across his chest and shoulders, coaxed you to squeeze and grope at his muscles and he started to swell harder in his pants when your thumb brushed over his nipples and fingers reached to lock in the tendrils of hair on the nape of his neck. With your mind and hands occupied on his body, Azriel took the opportunity to unbuckle his belt and slip out of his trousers.

He toed off his socks and kicked the clothing to the side; a prominent tent pitched in his boxers and you bravely let your hand fall further down his body. Your wrist knocked against his length through the cotton pants and he stifled a groan. “Please, daddy,” you whispered in a shaky tone against his lips and he could taste the cinnamon bagel you had for lunch.

He subtly shook his head against you, nose bumping yours as he eased you onto the bed – crawling between your parted legs and helping your head to lay back on his pillow. He knew his scent was encompassing your senses and boggling your mind. He also knew it was what would bring you back to him.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered softly. 

You’re swarmed by the darkness of his shadows that caress your skin, that whisper gentle reminders that he wasn’t made. Even through the shadows that swarmed you and the dim lighting of the bedroom, Azriel could still see your face – still make out your fluttering eyes beneath closed lids and he urged you to open them.

“Open your eyes, my love. Feel my touch,” he breathed.

His hips were gently rutting against yours, body keeping your thighs parted. Azriel reached a hand between your bodies. He didn’t want to break the touch to take off your underwear, so he opted to pull his aching cock from the waistband of his boxers instead. His tip was oozing with precum that he knew you loved to taste but you can do that later.

Azriel just wanted his love back.

He massaged your dripping core over your knickers, soaking the fabric as you whined desperately at him. Azriel peeled the fabric aside, thumbing at your swollen little clit and he felt your body jolt under his touch. “That's it,” he coaxed encouragingly, rubbing slow circles and you felt his cock bump at your entrance.

You let out a shallow shrill, one that was drowned by the silence of the room and he cooed at you. Azriel had one arm bent by the side of your head to hold up his weight and his hand was angled perfectly for him to brush strands of hair from your clammy forehead. “Gotta come back to me, Y/N. Gotta taste my lips and feel my skin, my love.”

You keen under his touch as Azriel dragged his thick cock to your weeping hole, feeling it flutter against his tip at the anticipation of intrusion. “Shh,” he cooed, circling your entrance before pushing in just a few inches. You gasped against his mouth, welcoming his tongue as he massaged his against yours.

He slowly sheathed in, vision dotted and he tried to muffle his belts of pleasure. You were clamping him down, walls soaked and warm and he felt so fucking snug in your tiny little cunt that stretched around him. 

“So good,” he praised, shuddering breaths across your face and your back arched, your chest out and into his.

“Daddy, please,” you mewled in a soft gasp, eyes wide open but you were staring straight through Azriel, like you didn’t really see him. He shushed you, rolling his lips deliciously and suckling on your tongue. “Come on, Y/N,” he guided. “Come back to me, love. Come back to Azriel.”

His hazel embers were drilling into yours in a gentle manner, like he was trying to get you to find the light in his eyes and swim to it. He tugged on that bond again, surging as much love and force as he could. 

He could feel your heart hammering against his chests and you were clawing at his back when your eyes met. “Yes,” You gasped as his cock hit against your precious little spongy spot.

Azriel grunted and panted above you, a sight so fucking holy toy thought you might’ve gone to heaven. But his thrusts were anything but angelic and his curls and wings were feigning devil horns above his head. 

“Azriel,” you choked, fingernails tearing into the taut skin of Azriel’s shoulders but he fucked into you harder at the mention of his name spilling weakly from your lips.

“That’s it. Just feel me, my love,” he grunted, slick sounds of your pussy squelching and his cock thrusting filled the air. Az’s chest was heavy on yours, a crushing weight that he couldn’t seem to hold up but the touch of his body on yours was what you needed. That push of guidance and pulling of grounding that knocked you into you right mindset.

“Azriel!” You cried again. 

Your voice was much harder, louder – you were more sure of yourself and him and where your mind was racing off to. Your eyes were still locked in an intense gaze and he didn’t know if your body was relaxing because you were close to your release or because you were out of your subby headframe.

You tugged back on that bond, finally, and Azriel could hear the pleads and cries of his name that you echoed through the bridge that connected your souls. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Want you to cum all over my cock, baby. Come on.”

Azriel nipped at your bottom lip, let your tongue run across his gums and lick into his mouth. He could feel your thighs trembling from either side of his body and he kept going.

“Wanna cum! Please, please, please,” you begged, eyes frantic and wide. Azriel’s lips smeared against yours messily, cock sliding easily as you gripped him tighter and tighter. “Cum, baby. You don’t have to ask, just cum,” he promised.”

“Azriel! Fuck, Azriel!” 

Ecstasy washed over you with a shrill cry, eyes shut tight as Azriel met his own release and spilled into you hotly. You squirmed as he stilled, panting and frantic. Your hands were all over his clammy skin as you tried to regain a sense of consciousness.

Azriel’s hands looped around your face, shushing and cooing you to open your eyes, to come back to him. “Hey, shhh. Open your eyes, my love. Come on,” he spurred tenderly, tip of his nose nudging yours as your eyes slowly fluttered open. 

You blinked away the orgamsic blur and a toothy grin sat lazily on your lips.

He waited a beat, tried to decipher for himself whether or not you’d snapped out of it and was back with yourself. 

“Cauldron, you literally fucked it out of me,” you choked out a drunken giggle. 

Azriel let out a sighed laugh, head in the crook of your neck and your eyes were dazzling in post-orgasmic bliss.

“You’re a nightmare,” he joked into your chest, kissing his way up to your mouth. You offered an exhausted giggle, cheeks tinted pink from embarrassment of the underlying situation at hand. 

“I’m sorry, you know. Don’t know why I got like that,” you apologised. You felt a little silly, if you were honest, but Azriel never let you feel that way for long.

He shook his head and kissed your swollen lips again. “Don’t,” he said. “Was my fault for not making sure you were alright after. I normally do, I don’t know why I didn’t last night,” he admitted lowly. 

It was your turn to shake your head and scratch your blunt fingernails through his curls and at his scalp. “Not your fault, we both know how I get sometimes. Thank you, for snapping me out of it.”

Azriel kissed you softly, lips enveloped in a tired kiss as he slipped out of you, both of you hissing at the lack of warmth you offered each other. He sighed as he fell onto his back, sweaty chests cooling from the air. You coddled into his chest, his seed dripping from your sore cunt but you didn’t make any attempt to stop it.

Azriel snorted. “You’re dripping on the sheets.” 

You rolled your eyes at the comment and peeled your body away from his, sitting up to look between your parted thighs. Sure enough, there was a soaked patch just beneath you where arousal was starting to stick to the sheets.

You shrugged. “It’s your cum, not mine,” you argued playfully, shooting fake glares at the culprit. Azriel grinned cheekily at his love, reaching out for you so he could massage at your thigh the way he knew made you relax. 

“Well I do apologise,” he quipped in a playful tone and you hummed, playing into his mood.

“Mhm, you can change the sheets.” You leant down to kiss his cheek before hopping off the bed and padding nakedly to your bathroom. You switched on the light and allowed it to drown out into the bedroom so Azriel could see just how much mess you made. He couldn’t stop the blush that sat heavy on his cheeks.

You peered your head out of the bathroom and Azriel swore his heart fucking grew twice it’s size and he almost forgot how to breath. You had a shy smile on your lips and a look in your eye that he knew all too well. “I know you snapped me out of it but I still want to feel you… can we take a bath?” You asked, eyes hopeful as you gnawed on your bottom lip.

Azriel swallowed back the love that wanted to spew out of his mouth and nodded his head. “You can have anything you want, my love,” he sighed, dreamily. 

He followed you into the bathroom. When the water was drawn just enough and to the perfect temperature, you climbed in together with your back resting against his chest and Azriel’s lips pressed to your neck.

feedback is always appreciated!! <3