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stylesispunk · 9 days ago

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"I don't want to look at anything else but you"

post outbreak! Joel miller x f!reader

summary: You and Joel had found peace in the quiet life you had built together in Jackson. Despite him hurting from the growing distance between him and Ellie, he knows he has you and you have his back.

wc: 6,4k >

warnings: a bit of angst for joel but is mostly fluff. Age gap but not specified. Remember English is not my first language and i'm lazy when it comes to checking.

a/n: okay. I didn't write a lot of blind faith during this week and I'm giving you this other joel fic as a sorry and because i'm already grieving Joel. I hope you like it 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Ever since you and Joel had settled into a normal life in Jackson. The dynamic between the two of you changed. The cold mornings spent outdoors turned into mornings wrapped in sheets. The two of you, your head on his chest and his arms around your waist. The closest thing to normalcy Joel had experienced since the world had ended that September, years ago.

It wasn’t the easiest path, not for him, not for you. Years ago, when everything was ash and violence, the QZ had been nothing more than a temporary shelter with concrete walls and a rot at its core. But somehow, even in that godforsaken place, you had found Joel. Or maybe he had found you. Either way, you clung to each other like driftwood in a storm.

He was older, weathered by loss, hard edges and thick walls that didn’t crumble easily. And you—well, you were younger, yes, but you’d seen enough to understand him without needing him to say a word. That’s what got him first. The way you looked at him—not with pity, not like someone trying to fix him—but like you saw straight through him and chose to stay anyway.

You were a constant when the world refused to be. He never told you just how much that meant, how many nights he laid awake beside you in the QZ, eyes tracing the ceiling, wondering what he had done to deserve someone like you. Maybe he didn’t deserve it. But you stayed. Even when the Fireflies whispered about change. Even when the world outside called to you both with the promise of something more.

And then came Ellie. The girl who turned everything upside down. The moment Joel took her in, you followed without hesitation. You were the only one who never questioned him—not when he made the choice that changed everything. You held his secret like your own, wore the burden of it in silence. And when the truth finally tore open the fragile thread between Joel and Ellie, you were the one caught in the middle. Not because you chose to be—but because you loved them both.

Ellie had barely spoken to Joel in months now, but you still caught her glancing toward your porch sometimes, like she missed him but couldn’t quite forgive. You didn’t push. You gave her space, the same way you gave Joel comfort. Even when he didn’t say it, you could feel the guilt radiating off him in waves—quiet, heavy, and relentless.

But he still came home to you. Always. His hands shaking slightly when he poured whiskey into a glass at night, the ghosts of the past flickering behind his tired eyes. And you would press your fingers to the side of his face and whisper that he was not the man he used to be. That maybe, finally, after all this time, he deserved peace.

He didn’t say much in response. Joel wasn’t one for poetry or declarations. But his love was in the way he kissed your forehead in the mornings before you even opened your eyes. It was in the way he made sure the firewood was stacked high so you’d never get cold. It was in every silent glance across a crowded dining hall, in every soft murmur against your temple when the nightmares woke him.

Joel had built a warm home for you. A place where the both of you would end up dying after cherishing all the loved you shared for each other. After a fulfilled life, a happy life.

He became a fundamental part of Jackson, a community that grew every year thanks to his efforts and help. A community where he had become loved, and not just by you. While Joel reviewed maps and extensions that could continue to be built, you were part of the group patrolling the outskirts of Jackson.

And when you rode out past the gates on patrol, he stood on that damn porch, arms crossed, waiting for your silhouette to disappear into the trees. He never said “be careful,” never asked you to stay. Because he knew you wouldn’t. But he always waited.

Because no matter how many years passed, no matter what came between him and the world, he knew one thing:

You were the one thing he had never wanted to live without. He would rather die before seeing life leaving your body in a lifeless frame.

Joel had built a warm home for you. A place where the both of you would end up dying after cherishing all the loved you shared for each other. After a fulfilled life, a happy life.

Today was one of those freezing days of winter when snow covered all paths. You'd been riding with Rick for nearly two hours in silence, save for the sound of snow crunching under your horses’ hooves and the occasional radio crackle from the patrol team. The morning was cold, but sunlight still broke through the trees in patches, casting gold across the frostbitten forest. You were glad for the silence. Patrols were always easier when you didn’t have to think too hard.

But Rick was fidgeting.

You noticed it as you dismounted to check the broken fence line on the north perimeter. He stayed unusually close behind you, clearing his throat every few seconds like he was about to say something and then thinking better of it.

You finally turned to him with a raised brow, snowflakes sticking to your lashes.

“Spit it out, Rick. You’re twitchier than a Clicker.”

He looked at you, flushed already from the cold but turning visibly redder. “Okay, so—I wasn’t gonna say anything. Like… ever. But if I don’t, I think I’m gonna explode or something.”

You leaned on the post you were fixing and blinked. “That sounds dramatic.”

“It is. I’m being dramatic,” he admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. “Look, I know you’re with Joel. Everybody knows you’re with Joel. Joel definitely knows you’re with Joel. And he could probably kill me with, like, a stare. But… I kinda like you. I have for a while.”

You stared at him, hammer halfway raised, not sure if you’d misheard him or if he’d actually just said that. “Rick.”

“I know! I know. It’s not cool. It’s kind of stupid. But I figured maybe if I just said it out loud once, I could move on and stop acting like a dumbass every time you’re around.” He ran a hand over his face, half laughing, half mortified. “Jesus, you’re gonna tell Joel and he’s gonna bury me under the tomato garden, huh?”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. Hard. Rick blinked at you like he wasn’t sure whether he’d just been spared or sentenced.

“I’m not gonna tell Joel,”You said, still chuckling as you shook your head. “Unless I need leverage to make him do the dishes.”

Rick exhaled loudly, shoulders slumping in relief. “God, please don’t do that.”

“Hey, I might. That’s premium blackmail material,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge with your elbow before getting back to work on the fence. “Look, I appreciate the honesty. I really do. It’s weird—but kinda sweet, in a ‘high school crush’ kind of way.”

He gave you a sheepish smile. “I’ll take it.”

“But Rick,” you added, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, your voice gentler now, “Joel’s it for me. I love him. He is my husband, law or not law. You know that, right?”

“I do,” he said quietly. “Hell, everyone does. Just needed to clear my chest.”

“Well, chest cleared,” you said, patting him once on the shoulder. “Now let’s go back to our work or something. You’re not gonna make me do all the work just because you embarrassed yourself, are you?”

He laughed, finally relaxing. “Nah, I’ll take point. You just hang back and bask in the awkwardness.”

“Perfect,” you muttered, smirking as you mounted your horse.

As the two of you rode off, the moment settled behind you like footprints in snow. Something a little strange, a little uncomfortable—but harmless. You knew Rick wouldn’t cross any lines. He wasn’t that kind of guy. And besides, by the time the sun dipped low and Jackson came into view again, your thoughts were already back home.

To the porch where Joel would be waiting, arms crossed.

To the way his jaw would twitch the moment he saw you, trying and failing to hide the relief in his eyes. To the warmth of his hand on the small of your back when he pulled you close and muttered, “Took you long enough.”

Because no matter what happened outside those walls, you always came back to him. You always would.

The sun had dipped behind the trees by the time you and Rick made it back to Jackson. The patrol had been uneventful after the confession—thank God—and Rick had thankfully returned to his usual self, cracking a dumb joke or two to break the tension. You left him at the stables with a casual wave, brushing the snow off your coat as you handed off the reins.

As you stepped out into the chilly late afternoon, your breath puffed white in the air. The lanterns strung along Jackson's paths were starting to flicker on, casting a golden hue over the snow-covered streets. You shoved your gloved hands into your pockets and turned toward home.

And then you saw Joel walking your way, just down the path near the greenhouse, shoulders relaxed in that slow way of his, with the glasses still perched low on his nose that made you pause and smile like a fool. He rarely kept them on outside. Said they made him look “too damn old.” But there they were, catching the glow of the lanterns as he walked, reviewing something in a worn notebook like the world wasn’t even there.

He looked up as if sensing you before he even saw you.

The second his eyes found yours, his entire face shifted—like watching ice melt under a flame. His mouth tugged into a lopsided smile, soft and real and just for you. And God, it still got you. After all this time. After all the hell, the healing, the hurt—he still looked at you like that.

“You’re late,” he said, voice low and warm as he closed the notebook and tucked it under his arm.

“You’re wearing your glasses,” you replied, unable to keep the grin off your face.

He huffed. “Didn’t mean to. Just got caught up in the numbers. Didn’t wanna strain my damn eyes again.”

You stepped closer, heart easing in your chest the way it always did when he was near. “You look good.”

Joel gave you a look, tilting his head. “You makin’ fun of me?”

“No,” you said, wrapping your arms around his middle. “I mean it. There’s something kind of... sexy librarian about you.”

He let out a dry laugh, hand coming up to tug the glasses off and hook them into the collar of his shirt. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know, but you love it, though”

“I do,” he said without hesitation, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Then his gaze shifted a little more serious, a little softer. “Everything go alright out there?”

You nodded, leaning your shoulder into his chest. “Yeah. Nothing we couldn’t handle. Rick confessed his love for me, though.”

Joel stopped mid-step. “He what?”

You burst out laughing at his expression. “It was harmless. Kind of awkward. I think he mostly just needed to say it to get it off his chest.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, but there wasn’t an ounce of jealousy in his face, just amused disbelief. “Poor boy.”

“Right?” you said, still grinning. “He looked like he was about to faint. Said you’d probably bury him under the tomato garden.”

Joel gave a thoughtful nod. “Not a bad idea.”

You swatted his arm as he slipped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close against him. His body was warm, solid, familiar.

“You know I only love one grumpy man in this town,” you murmured, tucking your hand into the space between his coat and flannel.

He looked down at you, something tender and unspoken in his eyes. “I know.”

Your steps slowed, gravel crunching gently beneath your boots as the space between the two of you closed even more. You turned to face him, chin tilted up, your hands sliding into the open edges of his coat to rest against his chest.

Joel's brows lifted just a bit, eyes flickering between yours and your mouth. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. You leaned up and kissed him softly—just enough to make him pause and breathe you in. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek in that way that always made you feel like you were something rare. Something precious.

The kiss lingered, unhurried and warm in the freezing air.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his. “Tell me about your day,” you whispered.

Joel hummed low in his chest, his nose brushing against yours. “Not as excitin’ as yours, apparently,” he muttered, and you could hear the faint smirk in his voice.

You grinned. “Still wanna hear about it.”

He sighed, but it was soft. Content. “Well, I argued with Tommy about expanding the southeast fence. Again. He’s still convinced we need to pull it in tighter. I told him he’s just scared of dealing with the extra patrols.”

You chuckled. “He is scared of extra patrols.”

“Damn right,” Joel muttered, clearly pleased you agreed. “Helped Maria sort through some of the winter inventory. Got roped into fixing a leaky pipe in the clinic because somebody thought I was the only one with ‘good hands.’”

You looked up at him with a grin. “Well… they’re not wrong.”

That made him laugh again, the sound low and rough and good. “Are you flirting with me, darlin’?”

“Maybe.”

“After all these years?”

“Especially after all these years.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for a beat. “You keep that up and I’m gonna have to warm you up properly once we get inside.”

You raised a brow. “Promise?”

Joel groaned and gave a playful shake of his head. “You’re trouble.”

“You love it,” you said again, smiling as you slipped your hand into his and started walking toward home, where the hearth was probably still warm and the bed even warmer.

And God, you really did love this life. This normal, beautiful, quiet life with him.

As you reached your home, Joel’s hand squeezed yours gently before slipping away. He paused on the porch, his eyes drawn toward the garage across the yard. A faint flicker of light glowed from the crack beneath the door, soft, irregular, probably from that old lamp Ellie refused to replace. You followed his gaze, the air suddenly still around the two of you.

“She’s in there,” Joel murmured, his voice lower now. Not tense, exactly—but something sad, almost wary. You knew that tone. He’d been using it a lot when it came to her lately.

You nodded, shrugging off your coat. “Yeah, she seems to spend a lot of time in there.”

Joel lingered, eyes fixed on the garage like he could see right through the wall and into her thoughts. “Do you know if she’s going to the New Year’s thing tonight?”

You turned to look at him, reaching out to take his gloves from him as he pulled them off. “She didn’t say a lot to me this morning.”

Joel nodded; lips pressed into a thin line. He looked older when he worried—shoulders heavier, jaw tighter. “I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn´t.”

“Things are different now,” you said softly, brushing a bit of snow off his shoulder. “She’s still figuring out how to be... okay with everything. With you, okay. With both of us.”

“I don’t blame her,” he said after a moment. “I just… I hate not knowing how to make it better.”

You stepped closer, resting a hand against his chest. “Maybe it’s not the right time. You’re still here, waiting, still being there for her.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. He looked at the garage one more time, eyes soft with a regret and longing, something like hope, but worn thin.

Then he turned back to you, lips brushing your forehead as he let out a long breath. “C’mon,” he said quietly. “Let’s get inside before you freeze that smart mouth off.”

You smiled and nudged the door open. “Too bad. I had plans to use it tonight.”

Joel laughed under his breath as he followed you inside, letting the door close gently behind you.

The world felt warm and still when you opened your eyes.

That fuzzy kind of stillness where the light was soft and golden through the curtains, and your limbs were heavy in the best way—boneless and relaxed under the weight of a thick quilt. You blinked slowly, adjusting to the calm, to the scent of pine still lingering from the firewood and Joel’s flannel shirt close by.

Your head was resting on his lap.

Joel sat slouched back against the couch cushions, legs stretched out, a book open in one hand, his glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t noticed you waking yet. Or maybe he had, and just didn’t say anything.

The fingers of his free hand combed lazily through your hair, tracing slow, thoughtful paths over your scalp and down to the nape of your neck. Over and over again, like it was as natural to him now as breathing. That kind of tenderness that wasn’t loud or showy, just there—anchoring and steady.

You smiled, sleep still in your voice. “You’re gonna put me right back to sleep doing that.”

Joel’s eyes flicked down from the page to meet yours, and a slow smile spread across his face. “That a bad thing?”

“No,” you murmured, shifting just slightly to curl closer into his thigh. “It’s a really, really good thing.”

He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest, low and warm. His thumb brushed along your temple in a soft arc. “Didn’t mean to wake you. You were out cold.”

“Blame your lap. It’s cozy.”

He chuckled, eyes returning briefly to his book. “Didn’t think you’d fall asleep halfway through tellin’ me about how Rick nearly dropped his gun while trying to impress you.”

“He did!” you laughed, eyes closing again. “It slipped right outta the holster when he tried to be all cool and stretch like nothing hurt. I nearly fell off the damn horse.”

Joel shook his head, the quiet amusement clear in his face. “Man’s a disaster.”

“Mmm, but at least a harmless one,” you yawned.

Another beat passed, quiet except for the sound of pages turning and the fireplace crackling low in the background. His fingers never stopped moving in your hair.

“Do you ever miss it?” you asked softly, not even sure where the question had come from. “Before here. All the chaos we used to live in. The constant movement. The adrenaline.”

Joel’s hand slowed, just slightly. You felt the pause. Then the steady rhythm picked up again, gentler.

“Sometimes,” he admitted after a moment. “Not the danger, but the feeling of having to keep going. No room to think too hard. Now Ellie doesn’t talk to me.

You nodded; eyes still closed. “That would be temporary, you know.”

“Yeah.” His voice lowered, more thoughtful. “But I’d trade a hundred years of running for one of these. You and me like this.

That made you laugh again, and his hand cradled the back of your head as you shifted to look up at him.

“You’re getting soft in your old age, Miller.”

He looked down at you over the rim of his glasses, brow raised. “Say that again and see if I let you keep using my lap as a pillow.”

You smirked. “You’d miss me.”

“I would,” he said quietly, and just like that, the teasing faded into something real.

You smiled at him, “I should start getting ready for the party tonight.”

“You look perfect just like this.”

“How romantic, Joel Miller, but I probably smell bad.”

Joel snorted softly, eyes crinkling at the corners as he closed the book and set it aside. “Darlin’, we’ve both smelled worse. Remember when we reached Bill’s house?”

You groaned dramatically, burying your face into his thigh. “Don’t remind me. That was not my best moment.”

“I didn’t mind it then either,” he said, his fingers grazing down your jaw, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You could be covered in mud and I’d still think you’re the prettiest girl in the room.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by how easily he could say something like that now. It hadn’t always been like this. It used to come out in actions, his silence, his worry, the way he stood between you and anything that even looked like a threat. But now… he let himself say it. He let himself mean it.

And you never took that lightly.

“I’ll take the compliment,” you murmured, sitting up slowly and stretching under the blanket. Joel helped you out of it without a word, and you lingered just a second longer to brush your lips over his before standing.

He watched you, content and quiet, as you moved toward the bedroom. “Do you want me to wear that sweater you like?” you asked over your shoulder.

Joel raised an eyebrow. “The one with the buttons?”

You nodded, already pulling your hair back into a messy bun.

“Hell yeah,” he said, voice a little rougher now. “That one drives me crazy.”

You laughed as you disappeared around the corner, the sound making Joel lean his head back against the couch with a quiet, content sigh. His hand drifted absentmindedly to the spot where your head had been resting only moments ago, like some part of him still needed to hold on.

From the window he noticed the light in the garage had gone dark. Maybe Ellie was getting ready too. Maybe tonight would be a little bit closer to feel like a whole again.

You stepped out of the bedroom a few minutes later, brushing the last bit of lint off the front of your sweater—the one with the buttons Joel never shut up about. It was a little snug at the waist, hugged you just enough to make your point. Paired with the jeans he said made your legs look “dangerously good,” you were banking on at least a solid double-take.

Joel looked up from the couch, still lazily sprawled across the cushions, glasses sliding down his nose.

And damn if you didn’t get more than a double-take.

His hand went straight to his chest like he’d been physically struck. His mouth opened, then closed again like he forgot how to breathe.

“Jesus,” he muttered, sitting up straighter, eyes trailing slowly from your boots to your eyes. “You trying to kill me?”

You grinned, one hand resting on your hip as you posed, just a little. “What, this old thing?”

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You look…” He trailed off, searching for the word. “I don’t even get a word for it. Beautiful doesn’t make it justice.”

“You’re such a liar,” you teased gently, though your cheeks were already warm.

“I’m not,” he said, still staring. “You walk into that party lookin’ like that, I’m gonna have to fight half the town.”

You walked over and stood between his knees, his hands naturally coming to rest at your waist, thumbs sliding along the hem of your sweater.

“Don’t worry,” you said, brushing a hand through his hair with deliberate slowness. “I’m only going with one man tonight.”

His eyes met yours, serious under all the teasing now. “You’re mine,” he said lowly, not like a warning, but like a vow.

“I always have been,” you whispered back.

And for a second, it didn’t matter where you were going or who’d be at the party. There was only this, his hands steady on you, your breath soft against his, and the quiet thrum of a life you’d built together piece by piece.

“C’mon, Miller,” you said, pulling back with a smile. “Get dressed. Can’t show up to a New Year’s party looking like you just came in from the stables.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “I was gonna wear the flannel you like, but now I’m reconsidering.”

You leaned down and kissed him slowly, “Wear the flannel. Then lose the flannel later.”

Joel groaned into your mouth. “You’re evil.”

You smirked. “You love it.”

He planted a kiss on your lips before standing up from the couch.

The lights in the main hall of Jackson’s community center glowed warm and low, casting golden halos over strings of mismatched decorations—handmade banners, old Christmas lights, paper stars that crinkled every time the door opened and let in the wind. Music played softly from an old radio in the corner, laughter and voices mingling with the hum of people pouring in, already loosening up with drinks and stories.

You stood near the back wall, a glass of something vaguely sweet in your free hand, the other laced tightly with Joel’s. His thumb brushed slow circles over your knuckles as you chatted with Maria, who was animatedly retelling something Tommy had done earlier that day involving a runaway chicken and a very confused patrol dog.

You were half-listening, smiling and nodding along, but you felt it more than saw it—that Joel wasn’t really paying attention. His body was here, steady beside you, but his focus had shifted.

You followed the subtle line of his gaze, and there she was.

Ellie.

She was standing on the edge of a table, watching Dina, dancing in the middle of the place. Her hair surprisingly neat. She wore one of the jackets Joel had patched for her last winter, and she looked... better. Not completely at ease, but not avoiding people either. Laughing at how Dina enjoyed herself, her face lit up in that rare, open way that used to be more common. That Joel hadn’t seen in too long.

Your fingers squeezed around his, gently tugging his attention back to you. He blinked, then looked down, sheepish.

“She showed up,” you said quietly, so only he could hear.

Joel nodded, but didn’t speak at first. His jaw worked slightly, like there was something caught there that he couldn’t quite get out. “Didn’t think she would,” he murmured eventually.

You leaned your head into his shoulder, your hand still holding his like it anchored you both. “She’s trying,” you said softly. “Just like you are.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just watched Ellie for another long moment. His face unreadable, but you could feel the storm behind it—the guilt and the love and the endless what ifs he carried like extra weight on his back.

“She still wears that jacket,” he said finally, voice a little rough.

“She still loves you,” you said, just as sure. “Even when it’s complicated.”

Joel looked down at you then, the depth in his eyes something that stole your breath a little. “You think it’ll ever go back to how it was?”

You turned slightly to face him, brushing your thumb along the inside of his wrist. “No,” you said honestly. “But maybe it’ll become something new eventually.”

He nodded slowly, like he was trying to believe it. Maybe tonight helped.

The minutes had stretched into hours, in a few ones. A new year would come into your lives and you were enjoying the hope that brought to all people in the community. Yes, you were enjoying the party, until something completely shifted the ambiance.

When Ellie’s voice came.

Loud. Angry. Hurt.

“I don’t need your fucking help, Joel!”

You froze.

The room quieted, just a little. Just enough.

Joel didn’t say anything at first. You watched his face—how it closed off, his expression almost neutral except for the way his jaw clenched. There was something like shame in his eyes. Like he’d overstepped. Like he knew this was coming.

He turned. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just quietly stepped back, like every inch he put between himself and Ellie was one he’d deserved. He didn’t look at you. Just walked toward the door of the hall, shoulders tight, hands in his pockets, and disappeared outside.

You turned slowly, your gaze falling on Ellie.

She was still standing there. Chest rising and falling like she'd just finished running. Dina beside her, wide-eyed, unsure whether to step in or stay back. The room had started to move again around them, but you stayed where you were, heart sinking.

Ellie looked at you.

And you didn’t say anything. Didn’t frown or shake your head. Just… looked.

There was disappointment in your eyes—yes. A flicker of sadness too, not just for Joel, but for her. For the pain stitched between them. For the ways she still didn’t understand that Joel didn’t defend her to take control, or because he thought she was weak—but because he loved her.

Because she was still his.

And whether she was ready to admit it or not, he would always be hers.

Ellie looked away first. Back to her shoes. Her jaw tensed like she was biting back words. But she didn’t say anything else.

You waited another beat, then gently set your glass down, excused yourself from the people at your table with a small nod, and went after Joel.

The cold had settled deep by the time you made it back home.

The porch light cast a soft glow across the wooden steps, and there he was—sitting in the chair like he had nowhere else to be, guitar in his lap, hands quiet on the strings. He wasn’t playing. Just holding it, his fingers curled around the neck like they used to when he didn’t know what else to do with his hands.

His glasses were off, resting on the side table next to him. The soft creak of the porch boards under your steps made his head lift, and his eyes met yours.

You smiled gently. “Hey, cowboy.”

Joel didn’t say anything right away, just gave you the ghost of a smile before looking down at the guitar again.

You crossed the porch and crouched in front of him, resting your hand on his knee. “She didn’t mean it.”

He let out a breath, slow and tight. “Yeah, she did. Maybe not in the way she thinks. But she did.”

You didn’t argue. Instead, you just leaned your head against his leg, wrapping your arms around his knee. “Come inside,” you murmured. “It’s freezing.”

“I like the cold,” he said quietly.

“You’re getting old,” you teased, tilting your face up toward him with a smile. “Your bones can’t handle it anymore.”

That pulled the faintest smirk from him. “You keep talking like that and you’re getting a snowball to the face next time it drops.”

“Promises, promises.”

You stood up and reached out a hand to him. He hesitated for a moment before placing the guitar gently against the wall. His hand slid into yours, warm and rough and steady, and you led him inside.

The house welcomed you with its familiar warmth, soft light spilling from the kitchen lamp. You tugged him into the living room and stopped, turning to face him, fingers still wrapped around his.

“You remember how to dance, Joel?”

He raised a brow. “Now?”

You nodded. “Now. Just us.”

There was no music, just the sound of the wind outside and the hum of life still buzzing faintly in town. But you stepped closer, placing your other hand on his chest as his found your waist, and you started to sway slowly, like there was a song only the two of you could hear.

You looked up at him, voice soft. “You know there’s no life for me after you, right?”

His eyes flicked to yours, searching. Quiet.

You swallowed. “Not just no one else… No life. I’m not made for this world without you in it.”

His jaw tensed, his hand tightening slightly on your hip.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. More than I even thought I could.”

Joel's voice was rough when he finally spoke. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“But it’s true.”

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, and you saw the fight in him—the weight of it all, the doubt, the guilt. But you also saw the way his heart ached for you. How much he wanted to believe he deserved it.

“You’re all I’ve got,” he said finally. “You… and her. And I keep messin’ it up.”

You shook your head and pulled him closer, pressing your forehead to his. “You didn’t mess anything up tonight. You stood up for her. That’s what love looks like, even if she doesn’t know how to take it right now.”

Joel let out a shaky breath. You leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. “Always.”

And with his arms wrapped around you in the middle of that quiet living room, Joel let himself hold on.

You kept swaying with him, barely moving, your arms snug around his broad frame like you were afraid he might drift away if you let go.

The firelight from the hearth flickered softly across his face, casting shadows that danced along the lines etched into his skin. You lifted your gaze, taking him in—really taking him in.

His hair was more silver than brown now, especially at the temples, and his beard had followed suit, peppered with white that hadn’t been there when you first met him back in the QZ. The creases around his eyes were deeper, more permanent, carved by years of worry, loss, and that rare, secretive laughter you’d always tried to pull from him like a prize. His hands, still strong, still steady, were rougher too—scarred by more than just time. And his eyes… God, those eyes. Still the same deep brown, still full of everything he never said out loud, but they were heavier now, more tired.

But even in all of it, in every reminder that time had passed, that the world had taken its toll on him—he had never looked more beautiful to you.

This was the man who had survived when others hadn’t. The man who had chosen you when he could’ve kept his walls up forever. The man who still held you like you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world.

Your fingers slid up his chest, fingertips brushing over the soft fabric of his flannel before curling lightly at the collar. You rose up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, slow and lingering. Then another, along the edge of his jaw. One at his temple. His brow.

Joel's hand tightened on your hip, the other cradling the back of your head now, and his breath caught when your lips found the corner of his mouth.

You pulled back just an inch and whispered, “I love all of it. All of you. Then. Now. Always.”

He looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face.

And then you kissed him—soft, deep, like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. His lips moved against yours with that familiar tenderness, that unspoken hunger that had never gone away, no matter how many years passed. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate. It was slow and sure, like he wanted the moment to last forever.

When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, breath warm on your lips.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

You shook your head gently. “That’s not your decision to make.”

Joel let out a quiet, broken laugh and kissed you again—softer this time, like a thank you.

You leaned in again, drawn to him like the tide to the moon. Your lips brushed over his once more—slower this time, tender and unrushed. A kiss that said everything without needing words. His hand slid up your back, fingers splayed gently between your shoulder blades, holding you to him like he never wanted to let go.

When you finally pulled away, your noses still touching, you smiled against his mouth. “Happy New Year, Joel.”

He exhaled softly, his breath warm as his eyes opened to meet yours. “Yeah?”

You nodded, heart full. “This is to us,” you whispered, “to spending more years like this. Together.”

Something flickered in his gaze—quiet, reverent, a little disbelieving like the weight of your love still knocked the air out of him every time. His thumb stroked along your jaw, rough and careful all at once.

“Until the end, darling,” he said hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion.

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, resting your head against his chest, right over the steady thrum of his heart. And there, in the soft quiet of your living room, with the muffled echo of fireworks somewhere in the distance and his arms holding you like a vow, you knew there was no one else you’d ever need.

Joel held you there for a long, quiet beat—his hand resting at the small of your back, the other curled at your nape, cradling you gently like the world might crumble if he let go.

Then he tilted his head slightly, eyes finding yours again under the soft glow of the fire. There was something raw in them now—unguarded, soft in that way only you ever got to see.

“Happy new year, baby,” he said, voice low, gravelly, full of something deep and real. “To more years. However, many we’re lucky enough to get.”

You felt your throat tighten, the words catching in your chest. But then he said it, firm, steady, like it had lived in him for years.

“I love you.”

Not rushed. Not whispered. Just said. Like a truth that didn’t need any decoration.

Your hand slid to his cheek, thumb brushing over the slight stubble there. His eyes closed at your touch, leaning into the warmth.

This was your beginning. Again, and again. Every year. Every moment. Joel was your home.

#fic: I don't want to look at anything else but you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller angst #pedro pascal

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aajjks · 9 months ago

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Have A Baby By Me (m)

warnings: èxplïcït sèx, rïdïng hïs dïck, báby tràppïng, brèèdïng kínk, cöèrcátïôn, 18+ THÈMÈS, wràp ït bèfórè yôu táp ít, créàmpíe, yándèrè, èxplïcït thèmès, MDNÏ.

note: @looneybleus, I know it’s been so long but I finally got to finish this, forgive me if it’s shitty but I wrote this for you like you wanted 🥹🥹 ALSO SHARE FEEDBACK AND ENJOY! Ignore my mistakes. I’ll edit it later. I got sick. 💀♥️

note: Art by @/nada_ge on twt, this is not mine, cr to owner.

Geto just loves fucking you.

He loves being inside you, fucking you until his dick is aching and you’re full of his load. And now, he hates it when you’re on birth control,

He obviously hates wearing a condom.

And right now? He’s really fucking horny, he cannot stop thinking about fucking you raw, make you bounce on his dick the whole night and breed you like his little doll.

He’s sitting inside your shared bedroom, his shirt off, as he waits for you to finish changing, Geto is throbbing tonight, he will get a baby, he will make sure you get knocked up by him.

Because you’re such a good girl as well, Geto is so in love with you, he wants nothing more than to be with you forever and what is the best way to be with you forever than to have a baby with you?

He is waiting, eagerly. He’s freshly showered, his hair in a lazy bun as he stares at the LED. Even the TV is not interesting enough for him because he’s got some motives. He wants to fulfill tonight.

“Sweetie, where are you?” He suddenly asks, his voice a tad bit loud so you can hear him in the bathroom, he taps his feet on the marble flooring.

“Coming babe.”

He smirks, oh you definitely will be.

He smiles to himself, the thoughts only getting more intense in his mind, his patience is really wearing thin now you need to come here right now.

And it’s like God heard him because there you come all glory in pajamas, your face without any make up, but eyes freeze on you.

You are so beautiful, so pretty and so perfect, the sounds of your steps are enough to take his all of his attention.

“Hi princess.” Geto smiles lazily.

You give him your gorgeous smile, which makes you look 1000 times more pretty, and he pats his lap. “Why don’t you come here hmm?” He speaks in a low tone, his eyes filled with a haze.

A haze you recognize well.

You approach him, Geto wants nothing more than to feel your weight on him, he spreads his legs, “come on pretty girl.” He coos, you are definitely blushing now, as you slyly sit on his lap.

The weight of your ass on him is absolutely delicious, he groans. His arms immediately settling around your waist as he adjusts you.

“Better?” He questions, whispering in your ear like the good caring boyfriend that he is, you nod, and that’s when geto grabs your face and pulls you in for a slow kiss.

His lips move against yours, gently at first, as you register his advance, kidding him back, he enjoys and savors the warmth of your mouth on his.

The kiss only kicks away his sanity, oh he’s so horny. “Mhmm yeah, pretty girl, I really missed you today yknow?” He begins a decent conversation with you, after disconnecting your lips,

You begin talking with him, but all he’s focusing on is being inside you. “Hmm yeah, today wasn’t so eventful, anyways, yn.. let’s focus on the night shall we?” He caresses your face, his fingers tapping your cheek.

“You see? I’m really fuckin needy right now, I’m pretty sure you can feel it.” He winks, hinting at his boner pressing against your ass.

“You look so hot to me right now, please let me fuck you.” He pouts, his tone getting softer yet pleading, but his moves growing bolder, his lips find your neck, as he awaits your response, pressing open mouthed hot kisses against your neck.

He groans again as he takes in your scent, “mhmm fuck.” He moans, his hand sliding inside your shirt, his eyes darken when he realises you’re not wearing a bra.

He starts to tease your naked breast, “oh baby you’re such a naughty girl aren’t you?” His hips start to move, and that’s when you finally mutter a ‘yes’

Geto smiles wide, making you stand up as he immediately kicks his pants off. His muscular thighs soon unveil and throws the pants away.

“Straddle me.” Geto pushes his boxers off soon too, his hard erection painfully obvious, his cock hard and ready. “See that, ‘s all because of you.” He purrs.

“Come on baby ride me.” He takes your wrist and manages to lift you up by your hips, his fingers take off your pajamas and he practically rips your panties off, slamming you down on his cock.

And he cries out in pain, soon replaced by a sound of pleasure as he finds himself inside you, you moan in pain and surprise, “mhm fuck ‘m so sorry baby.”

He’s acting stupid right now.

“Fuck you geto ugh.”

“Yes please fuck me.”

He begs, his grip on your hips tightening as he waits for you to start,

A moan of ecstasy leaves his mouth as you begin to move, “mhmm oh fuck.” He’s always so vocal in the bedroom, he encourages you to go harder, faster.

“Please please please make me cum yn.” He whines, making your hips move faster using his hands to slam you down on his cock.

You moan, matching him as you both give into the pleasure, you settle your hands on his naked shoulders, Geto buries his head in your neck “oh baby mhm yeah please please keep g-going ugh.” He mewls, the feeling your hips slam down on him.

Your thrusts get more aggressive and it makes his eyes roll back. He’s going to cum soon, and inside you.

“Yn oh ngh- mhm.” He wants to kiss you so badly but his mind is frozen, too horny to actually think.

“My ugh- my love you always make me feel so good.” He kisses your neck, his tongue licking all over the skin, his hips bucking up, you keep on riding him.

You’re clenching around him so tightly it’s impossible to last.

“‘M gonna cum.” It’s all he says before he’s exploding inside you, his cum painting your insides white, his orgasm is strong and mind blowing.

The pleasure only intensifies more when he feels you cream all over him as well, you get so quiet during sex, it’s endearing.

His whole body is shaking as he rides the aftershocks, you both a panting mess.

He’s still inside you.

But what’s really got him panting is the knowledge that you’re not on birth control and you didn’t even realize that he just came inside you raw.

Geto smiles, kissing your neck again.

Soon, you’ll be pregnant because he will make sure.

“Oh you’re so good, mhm got me fucked up.” He moans against your neck. “We should continue this hm? This time I’ll be on top okay? I love you.”

Feeling satisfied and accomplished.

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osarina · 3 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 MAYBE I JUST WANNA BE YOURS

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai does not get jealous. he especially doesn't get jealous over someone he's not even dating. because he's not dating you. he doesn't want to date you... right?

(wordcount: 5k; fem!reader, nsfw, lots of smut LOL idk what got into me this is the first fic ive written with more smut than plot in ages. but anyway: jealous!dazai, fingering, oral (f->m), semi-public/public sex. whiplash from dazai's thoughts (as always). unedited.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hihi. SO this actually wasn't going to be connected to anything, but i decided like mid-fic that i wanted to make it a continuation to the adareader universe ive been considering building. i was too lazy to go check for inconsistencies, so if there's any dihfausihdfsudf just ignore them LOL. when i eventually make the masterlist for it and officially connect them all, ill go thru and double check for them. first i need to write them something with actual substance and not just horny posting LOLLLL.

Dazai is not a jealous man.

He’s not.

In fact, he’s the most un-jealous person in the whole world. He has no reason to be jealous, especially over you. He’s not dating you. Dazai never asked you to be his girlfriend, and that was intentional because Dazai doesn’t want a girlfriend. More specifically, he doesn’t want to be someone’s boyfriend. You’re just a friend—a friend that he sometimes fucks and occasionally seeks out to spend time with. He doesn’t want someone relying on him in a way a girlfriend would, and he certainly doesn’t want to rely on someone in the way a boyfriend would, because he doesn’t want the rug pulled out from under him when it inevitably goes to shit.

The thought is suffocating, it makes his skin crawl.

Almost as much as the realization that the cop the two of you are assigned to be coordinating with is clearly head over heels enamored by you. Dazai scowls from where he’s standing a few steps behind you, watching as you go over the details of the file that the man brought to you—Dazai didn’t care to learn his name. And yes, Dazai means you because when the officer came over with the file, he didn’t even acknowledge Dazai’s existence and walked right over to you.

He still hasn’t acknowledged Dazai’s presence, staring at you with an adoring expression as you read through the file. Dazai thinks if this were some sort of cartoon, the officer would quite literally have hearts in his eyes—it’s disgusting, Dazai can hardly stand to watch it.

“Dazai,” you finally say, voice a soft hum. He likes the way you say his name—it rolls off your tongue prettily, and it makes his chest oddly warm. He’s not used to people saying his name with such softness; he’s used to anger, irritation, fear, but never this. He’s wondered how his given name would sound, he’s spent many nights imagining it, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other wrapped around his cock, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask you to call him by it. That’s a step too close to actual intimacy and he’s not willing to take it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, and Dazai realizes you must have said something after you said his name, but he didn’t catch it because he was too absorbed in the way you said his name to notice.

“Come here,” you say again, nodding your head for him to drag himself out of the corner he’s sulking in to come to you. He feels a bit too gleeful watching the way the officer’s expression shifts in surprise as he turns to look at Dazai, finally noticing him.

Dazai pushes himself off of the wall to take a few steps closer to you, and he may or may not stand a bit too close on purpose just to see the other man frown. He stands behind you, chest brushing your back as he looks over your shoulder to scan through the file you’ve been reading. It takes him twice as long as it usually does because he didn’t realize that being in such close proximity to you would make him as dizzy as it did, and he’s too stubborn to back off now.

Your hair smells like vanilla, and Dazai can smell the faint scent of your favorite perfume dabbed on your neck, worn off throughout the long day. His attention strays from the file to you, tracing the smooth curve of your neck, dipping down to your collarbone and swallowing when he realizes that the top three buttons of your dress shirt are undone, the stuffiness of the tiny room and the lack of air conditioning causing small, visible beads of sweat to form on your skin. His breath catches as his gaze lowers just a bit more and-

You turn to look at him and his gaze snaps up before it can drop to dangerous territories, and Dazai catches the amused look in your eyes—you know exactly what he was looking at. Instead of having some shame, because Dazai has no shame, he shifts just an inch closer to you, one of his hands resting on your hip. He watches the way your lashes flutter the same way they always do when you’re trying to pretend you’re not affected by his touch, and his lips curl up into a small smirk.

“What do you think?” you ask after a second.

To your credit, your voice isn’t as strained as he expected, so Dazai ups it a notch, fingers sliding from where they’re caressing your hip to trail across your inner thigh. All out of sight from the officer on your left, but Dazai can tell he’s aware that something is going on from the way his enamored expression starts shifting into a more awkward one.

Dazai gives him a smug, sardonic smile before saying, “I think our friend over here should go get us the CCTV tapes—that’ll be much more useful to us then a bunch of reports.”

The other man’s face shifts in confusion, brows furrowing and lips curving down, but before he can say no, you speak up and agree, “That would be great.”

Dazai rolls his eyes when it makes the man straighten and nod, “I’ll get it right away.”

Before he steps out of the room, Dazai tosses another look over his shoulder, this one colder than it is smug, and he says maybe a bit too snidely, “Don’t come back until you have them.”

The officer doesn’t reply as he leaves the room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, Dazai is pulling away from you to walk over to it. He locks it quickly and then turns to face you, tilting his head to the side as his gaze roves over your body. You’re leaning back against the table, eyebrows raised, and Dazai doesn’t stop himself this time when his gaze lowers to the swell of your breasts just barely made visible by your partially unbuttoned shirt.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, motioning for you to come over to him.

You don’t budge. Instead, you raise your eyebrows and say dryly, “There are cameras in here, Dazai.”

He pointedly looks up to the two corners of the room that they’re in and then back down to where he’s standing, silently telling you that this is a blind spot. After a moment’s hesitation, you push yourself off the table and make your way over to him. Dazai tilts his head back against the wall, looking down at you through his lashes as you come to stand directly in front of him. He pretends that his throat doesn’t bob when he feels your fingers slip into his belt loops.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, but your eyes are glittering so he knows you know exactly what the problem is—and to think he thought you weren’t cruel, you might just be the worst type of cruel there is, hiding it behind pretty smiles and sweet words. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous because that cop has a crush.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Dazai replies with a simpering smile, lifting one hand to cradle your cheek, breath catching as your eyes flutter shut, pressing your face into his hand. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Dazai thinks that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—he’s thought it since the day he met you, but he thinks it especially now when you’re leaning into his touch like it isn’t poisonous, like his hands aren’t stained with blood and his soul isn’t black and rotten. You deserve better than him, and that’s another reason why he refuses to take that next step: he knows one day you’ll realize it too. You’ll realize that you’ve fallen for a mask, that the man you care about doesn’t actually exist, it’s a thing that can barely call itself human pretending to be him.

He wonders if you know. He wonders if you know that something is wrong with him—he thinks that you must have some inkling after the bout of paranoia he had a few weeks ago when he was at your apartment, but he doubts you know the extent of it. He doubts you know that thoughts running through his head whenever that officer looked at you were anything but just casual jealousy; that every time he leaned in closer to you, Dazai’s fingers twitched in the direction of the gun given to him by the Agency that he’s only supposed to use in emergencies.

Old habits die hard, Dazai has always been quite trigger happy. They never should’ve put a gun in his general vicinity.

He leans down to ghost his lips below your ear, savoring in the way he feels you take in a sharp breath. His fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head back just enough to kiss the spot beneath your jaw that makes you writhe, and just as he expects, you let out a breathy moan against his ear that makes his head dizzy, your hands darting up to cling at the sleeves of his jacket.

“Dazai,” you gasp as he kisses down your neck. He hums in response, his free hand resting on your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Are you sure…”

“I’m sure,” he says, and then adds smugly, “When am I ever wrong?”

He doesn’t have to see your face to know that you’re probably rolling your eyes at him, but he doesn’t give you the chance to make a witty remark about the first time the two of you met. His grip tightens on your waist as he flips you around so that your back is to his chest.

His hands immediately work to unbutton your slacks, lips finding their way back to your neck to pepper kisses up and down your skin as he watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He lets out a low groan against your skin when he slides his hand into your pants and feels just how damp your panties are.

“This better be for me,” he mutters more to himself than to you, nipping at the skin of your neck. His voice is a bit more rough now as he asks you, “Lace?”

He lifts his face from your neck to look at you. Your eyes are half lidded as the pads of his fingers trace the cloth of your panties, head lolled back against his shoulder, breath ragged and lips parted, but there’s something teasing in your gaze as it flickers up to meet his.

“The ones you like,” you breathe out, and Dazai swallows thickly. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over after this.”

“Shit,” he whispers, putting pressure right over where your clit is hidden, watching the way your thighs tremble. “Look at you, only I make you feel this good, yeah?”

“Don’t tease.” The whine that clings to your words makes Dazai’s head spin. He can already feel his cock straining against his pants and tries to ease some of the friction by pressing you back into him, rolling his hips against your ass. “Dazai-”

“Shhhh,” Dazai soothes with a grin, kissing up your neck to your ear when he hears the distress in your tone. “I’ve got you.”

With practiced ease, he slides his fingers beneath your panties, middle finger dipping between your folds. He inhales sharply, immediately losing his grin when he feels how wet you are.

“This better be for me,” he repeats, a bit more seriously this time as he slides his finger between your folds, putting pressure on your entrance but not quite pushing in. “Hm?”

He waits for a response, relishing in the way your whole body trembles against him. He doesn’t even know if you know what he asked, you already seem so fucked out—lips wet and parted as you breathe in and out shakily, lashes fluttering and chest heaving.

“Tell me,” he presses, his free hand sliding up your body, untucking your shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to feel your skin.

“‘course it’s for you, Dazai,” you say after a few seconds of confusion, like you were trying to remember what he asked. “What kind of question is that?”

Dazai doesn’t respond to that, letting out a pleased hum as he kisses your jaw again. He also doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, quickly plunging his middle finger deep inside of you. The sudden intrusion has your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the cry that escapes your lips—he almost wants to pull your hand away, but decides against it because he doesn’t want anyone else hearing you like this.

You try to rock your hips to get him moving, but Dazai’s hand flattens against your stomach, holding you still against him.

“Dazai-” you gasp his name again, this time your voice is more pitched, caught between a whine and a complaint.

“Patience,” he coos, but his voice is strained and his breath is heavier as your tight walls hug his finger, imagining that it’s his cock instead. He drags his finger out until only the tip remains inside of you. He teases your entrance again, tracing a gentle circle but not pushing back in. “Bet you could already take two fingers for me, yeah?”

“What if he comes back?” you suddenly ask panic flying through your eyes as if you’ve only just remembered where you are. Dazai is distinctly displeased by the thought of another man crossing your mind while his fingers are inside of you. “Dazai, what if-”

“He won’t,” Dazai answers you, making his displeasure known as he nips your neck.

“How do you-”

“The corner that the disappearance took place on—it’s a blind spot for the CCTV cameras,” he answers before you can finish. Dazai knows this because he killed a target in that exact same spot two and a half years ago. “He’ll be gone for a while. He won’t want to come back empty handed to you.”

Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to question him anymore, sliding his middle and ring fingers inside of you and watching as your jaw falls slack. To make up for the displeasure he felt at you bringing up that irritating cop, he fucks you hard with his fingers—you barely have time to bite the palm of your hand before his fingers are stretching your walls.

He thinks he might be pushing his luck—he doesn’t know if the cameras in the corners of the room pick up sound, and if they do, he doesn��t know how well they pick it up. Even if you’re doing your very best at muffling your moans, there’s no hiding the sloppy sound of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt—it’s wet and filthy, and it has Dazai’s head dizzy.

His eyes drag up from where his fingers are plunging in and out of you back up to your face. Your pretty eyes are almost fully rolled back as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge and your lashes are wet. One particularly rough snap of his wrist has your hand falling limp from your mouth to your side and your lips parting in a moan that Dazai doesn’t dare allow anyone else to hear. Quickly, his free hand darts up to grab your jaw hard, turning your face toward him so he can press his lips to yours messily, swallowing the keening moan before you can let it out.

He kisses you deeply, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth gently in contrast to the rapid thrusts of his fingers. You try to kiss him back, but you can hardly even breathe with how deep his fingers fuck into you. He knows you're close—he can feel it in the way your whole body is trembling, and how your pussy flutters around his fingers, so he picks up the pace, just as desperate to bring you over the edge as you are to get there.

He’s the only one that can make you feel like this. He’s the only one that can make your body shudder and writhe, he’s the only one that can make your eyes roll back in pleasure, he’s the only one and he needs to prove it.

“C’mon, baby,” he pleads against your lips. The pet name that spills from his lips is not the teasing bella he likes to hit you with like he intended—it comes out strained, breathy, just as desperate as he feels. The lack of control scares him a bit, but he’s too out of it for it to take hold. “C’mon, once on my fingers, then as many times as you want on my cock when we get home, alright?”

He doesn’t know what you’re trying to say, the noise that spills from your lips, muffled against his mouth, is a moan, caught between his name and a please and something else he can’t make out. Distantly, he thinks that the bandages on his forearm must be ruined, he can feel your slickness dripping down his hand to his wrist and he can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you. He doesn’t care—in fact, the thought only makes his lower abdomen tighter.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, the only word she can make out and Dazai grins.

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps, scissoring his fingers inside of you and rubbing his index finger over your clit, and you’re gone.

Dazai groans when he feels you moan his name against his lips, hand dropping from your face to your waist to hold you upright as your knees buckle. You cum hard on his fingers, hips stuttering and stilling, and he can feel tears spilling over your cheeks. His cock is painfully hard now and he wants nothing more than to unbuckle his pants and replace his fingers with it, but he thinks that would be pushing his luck—he’s never had any semblance of control once his cock is inside you and he needs to keep an ear out for footsteps approaching the conference room.

He rides out your high, pace slowing as he continues to fuck his fingers into your sensitive cunt, wiping your tears with his free hand once you’ve steadied yourself. You tremble, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, and Dazai only removes his fingers when you claw at his wrist for him to stop.

His fingers are dripping with your cum, and though Dazai is aching for a taste himself, he instead lifts them to your lips. You’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, leaning back against his chest and breathing heavily, but you instinctually part your lips for him. His breath catches when you take both of his fingers into your mouth, lashes fluttering shut and tongue swirling around his digits as you taste yourself off of him.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand dropping down to rub the heel of his hand against his cock, desperately trying to alleviate the pressure. He has no idea how he’s going to hide this before the officer gets back and…

His thoughts trail off when you finally push off of him, your legs are still trembling, and your eyes are still a little hazy, but your gaze drops from his face to his rapidly rising and falling chest down to where he’s rubbing his cock through his pants. And then, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he repeats, voice breathy this time and pupils blown wide as he watches your fingers work at the buckle of his belt.

Dazai almost wishes that the officer would come back soon, just so he could walk in on you with a faceful of Dazai’s cock. But if that happens, all of Ango’s work will go out the window because there’s no way he’s letting someone see you like this and walk out alive.

Dazai’s cock twitches as soon as you free it from its confines. He’s already leaking an embarrassing amount of precum, and his tip is flushed red, but you waste no time before ghosting your lips across his length, suckling gently at the vein running along the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around his tip.

Dazai chews at his lower lip, thighs tensing as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat. Instead, his throat spasms as he swallows, reaching out to cradle the back of your head gently, carding his fingers through your hair soothingly.

“Lookit you,” he breathes out, voice wavering as he swallows another low groan. His fingers tighten in your hair just a bit, but he doesn’t push your face down on his cock, head falling back against the door as you work his cock further down your throat. His breath is ragged and heavy as your tight muscles spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to the intrusion, and he can feel your nails digging into the bandages wrapped around his hips. “That’s my girl.”

Another loss of control that should probably concern him, but you’re quick to take his mind off of it with the way he can feel you let out a whine around him, nails digging a little bit deeper into skin as you take him fully into your mouth, lips flush to his pelvis and nose buried in his pubic hair.

His head falls forward as he pants, watching your throat struggle to adjust to him. He strokes your hair gently, silently beckoning you to look up at him because he worries that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll let out a pornographic moan, one that will be impossible to deny if anyone over hears.

Your lashes flutter as you look up at him, eyes wide and glassy with fat tears that roll steadily over your cheeks.

Beautiful, he thinks hazily, and his—all his. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to imagine you like this—you’re his.

He chokes over air, free hand coming up to cover his mouth and hips jerking forward. He feels you gag around him and his hand drops to caress your cheek in apology, trying to wipe away your tears, but it’s clumsy and frantic—the sight of you on your knees for him, tears streaming down you face as you take him down your throat, is enough to send him spiraling over the edge.

His vision spots with black dots, the taut cord in his abdomen tightens and then snaps. He’s hardly able to muffle the moan that spills from his lips as his eyes knock back and his head falls against the metal of the door. His whole body tenses and spasms as he cums down your throat, he gasps for air, thumb still stroking your cheek as you struggle to swallow all of his cum.

It takes a minute for Dazai to regain some semblance of control over himself. By the time he has, you’re standing on shaky legs and tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants. His hazy gaze focuses on your face—your lips are wet and swollen, your eyes are still glassy, and this time Dazai doesn’t have an excuse as he lifts his hands to cradle your face and says quietly, “Mine.”

Your smile is teasing. “‘I don’t get jealous,’” you mock lightly, leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as his hand slinks around your body to your back, pulling your body flush to his as he deepens the kiss, sinking into the familiar feeling of your lips sliding against his.

“I don’t have reason to be jealous,” Dazai murmurs, this time with a different meaning. He pulls back slightly so he can button your pants back up and tuck your dress shirt back into them, making sure you look presentable before the officer gets back.

Instead of teasing him again, your smile softens and you affirm, “You don’t,” and Dazai’s throat tightens.

The thought of being in an actual relationship has always been suffocating to Dazai. Imagining having to spend the rest of his life with one person, having someone rely on him when his will to live is fickle at best and nonexistent at worst, becoming dependent on someone who could leave him on a moment’s notice… It makes his stomach churn with disgust, his chest tight with anxiety.

But when that faceless someone turns into you, Dazai realizes that the thought of a relationship is not quite as unappealing as it’s always been to him. Does it still make him skittish? Sure, but does it outweigh the green hue that colors his vision whenever someone looks at you and thinks you’re not his? Does it outweigh the bolt of fear he feels whenever he sees someone display interest in you, wondering if maybe you’ll get sick of his flighty behavior and give them a chance?

Absolutely not.

Dazai hears footsteps approaching the door he’s leaning on, and quickly unlocks it, motioning for you to stand back by the conference table. When the officer opens the door, the two of you are standing there casually like you never moved.

The officer gives you an apologetic smile that makes Dazai’s eyes twitch. “It doesn’t seem like there’s any CCTV footage from the area.”

Before you can respond, Dazai smiles tightly and says, “Wow, and it took almost twenty minutes for you to realize that—no wonder the police keep coming to us for help.”

You elbow Dazai, but he’s unrepentant, giving you a sweet smile before turning a cooler one back onto the officer. “If you don’t mind, we can finish the rest back at our office tomorrow now that we have the files. We have a date to get to.”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re raising your eyebrows at him, but he keeps his gaze trained on the officer, finding sick satisfaction in the way the man’s eyes dart between the two of you, a dawning expression crossing his face.

“A… date?”

“A date,” Dazai confirms, picking up the file and motioning for you to leave. He pointedly ignores the amused expression on your face as you make your way out of the room, walking past the officer who dumbly steps out of the way. “Thanks for the help… or, well, lack thereof.”

It’s only when the door slams shut behind the two of you, do you finally echo, “… A date?”

Hesitantly, Dazai confirms, “A date?”

When you don’t immediately respond, Dazai’s smile starts to freeze, considering that maybe you don’t want to date him and he read all of this wrong. You want to keep things casual, no strings attached. But after a few agonizing moments, you hook your arm around his and lean into him.

“Where are you taking me then, hm?”

“… It’s a surprise,” he replied.

A surprise for both of you, because Dazai hasn’t thought that far ahead yet.

A tenseness that he hadn’t even realized was in his shoulders dissipates when you laugh and press your lips to his upper arm before resting your head against it.

“Alright,” you agree, although he’s pretty sure you know damn well this is all spur of the moment. “Let’s go then.”

Though Dazai tries to rifle through all of the options of places you like to go, when the two of you step outside, all coherent thought washes right out of the window when you turn to look up at him, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow over your face.

“What is it?” you ask when he freezes in his tracks to admire you. “Dazai?”

For just a split second, Dazai can imagine it. He can imagine a life with you, and there’s no sign of any of the suffocation or discomfort he usually feels when he thinks of long term commitment too hard. He imagines waking up to you in the morning and falling asleep to you at night, he imagines spending his days laid up in bed with you sharing kisses and sweet nothings and he imagines dragging you around the city to show you off to anyone and everyone. His thoughts start to spiral out of control, and he’s glancing down at your ring finger, wondering-

“Dazai?”

Dazai’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt, and he swallows thickly when a more realistic image comes to mind—the expression on your face when you find out about his past, the disgust, the fear, the realization that he’s just not who he made himself out to be, that he’s been lying to you since day one.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, voice a little raspy, so he shakes his head, giving you a disarming smile and clearing his throat. “You’re just so stunning that it leaves me at a loss for words, sweet bella.”

You don’t seem to buy it, but you don’t press, arm tightening around his as you make your way back over to your car.

As soon as you look away, his expression shifts into a more downcast one as his gaze tracks back over to you. It’s only a matter of time, he remembers. His past will catch up with him sooner rather than later, and no matter what you may insist about the past being in the past, he knows everything will change when you finally realize what all he’s been hiding from you.

… but maybe there’s not too much harm in indulging while he still can. He just has to keep reminding himself that he can’t get too attached.

“You should let me drive,” Dazai says sweetly. “So I can drive us to the place and keep it a surprise for you.”

You laugh in his face. “As if.”

You usher him over to the passenger seat before making your way back over to the driver’s side, and Dazai finds a genuine smile unconsciously curling at the corners of his lips. One that quickly falls when his fingers wrap around the handle of the car door.

He thinks, maybe, it might be far too late to stop himself from getting attached.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs smut

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victorluvsalice · 2 years ago

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It's Winter Tuesday in the Chill Valicer Save, and we're into the final stretch of prepping the store to actually open! Don't worry, though, this particular update is not primarily them just standing around fishing. XD Instead, we're spending a lot more time at home on the farm, with the gang catching up on a few things and plumping up a few skills --

-->Smiler started their day entertaining Shadow and feeling the love, mopping up some mysterious symbols in the barn, and singing a few songs while jamming on their guitar -- soon joined by Shadow and Shock, the latter of whom decided to start singing along. XD I may not have planned on these darn kittens, but they are very, very cute. :) They then headed back out to the barn to tune up Bugs and Elmer again -- gotta keep those garden-bots in good condition if we want the help in the greenhouse!

-->Victor eventually woke up and got put on perfume-making duty, as I only had a couple of slots to fill on those shelves and figured Victor could stir up a few pots at home as easily as he could at work. He made a bottle of Happy scent, which got him up to Perfumery skill level 4, which allowed him to make a Flirty scent as well! :) Always great to be able to make something new for the store!

-->Alice, meanwhile, got up, used the toilet, and then immediately had to fix the toilet when it broke right after she got up off it. And then got sent downstairs to finish taking care of the laundry before she herself could get dressed. In case you were wondering why she looks depressed in that picture. :p She eventually got clothes on and sped upstairs to try starting another book for her Bestselling Author aspiration (a fantasy title based on Looking-Glass Land, called "Knight To E-4") -- but then her werewolf instincts started getting in the way, first demanding that she take a nap (she LITERALLY JUST GOT UP), and then demanding that she got outside. *shakehead* Being a werewolf is tough sometimes, y'all!

-->Though being a medium isn't particularly easy either, as Victor found out when he went out on the back porch to try and clear the specter there by giving it a Nimble Mind potion. It did NOT appreciate the present (perhaps because it doesn't have a brain to learn skills with?), and Victor quickly fled into his greenhouse to tend his plants instead. Fortunately, by this point, Smiler had finished tuning up the garden-bots and had wandered upstairs to mix some drinks at the bar -- I let them make a Fruity Fizzy Drink so they could try giving it to the specter later. Perhaps a "juicy" drink would work where a skilly one had failed?

#sims 4 #the lazy save #victor van dort #alice liddell #smiler always #don't worry Toothy wasn't trying to do anything to Shadow in that first picture #that's just where Smiler and Shadow ended up playing #I don't think pets can interact with cowplants at all #which actually that's a bit of a missed opportunity #I'm not saying cowplants should be allowed to eat pets of course #but maybe it should be possible for them to sniff each other and play a bit?#that'd be cute right?#anyway yes we got perfumes we got bots we got Alice trying desperately to write a book as her instincts yap at her #seriously it always annoys me a bit when she gets the 'need to hibernate' moodlet right after she wakes up #like I get it I don't want to be conscious either most mornings but come on #you have the world's best bed #and I am getting annoyed with specter pickiness in this game too #throw me a bone here guys I'm trying my best to appease you!#maybe it's time to start looking into soul trades...#queued

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tizeline · 5 days ago

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TSAU Season 1 Finale - Part 1

It's about damn time I go over the TSAU's version of the remaining season 1 finale, as well as episode 1 of season 2, so HERE WE ARE! I am too lazy to adapt the entire thing into a proper comic, especially considering several plot points remain rather unchanged from canon, so we're doing whatever this format is instead.

(You should read Cell Talk and Gearing Up before this if you haven't already)

But a quick recap, the Gearing Up comic ended with Draxum in the Dark Armour going up to the surface with Mikey to start with the whole conquering humanity thing. Raph and Leo have offically joined Team Good Guys and they, alongside Donnie, Splinter, April, Shelldon and Mayhem went after Draxum to stop his evil plans.

When they make surface, Draxum and Mikey have already started their rampage and are just kinda wrecking the baseball stadium. The Foot are also at the stadium, clearly still expecting The Shredder to show up or something. Team Good Guys (yes that's their name now) figure it's probably good to try to get whatever info about the Dark Armour they can so April and Mayhem teleport to where The Foot are to try to gather some intel that might help them in the fight against Draxum.

Meanwhile, the others start fighting Draxum and Mikey. Draxum is low-key kinda baffled that Raph just straight up switched teams lmao. Leo is one thing, but Raph has always been so loyal and responsible so it's real suprising that he's completely disobeying orders. None of the Draxum family members are really enthusiastic about fighting each other (except maybe Mikey he's kinda pissed at this point) but they engage in battle anyway. Donnie, Shelldon and Splinter are less hesitant about kicking Draxum's ass and don't really hold their punches lmao. Despite that they're kinda struggling considering both Drax and Mikey are so strong, but that's when April and Mayhem teleport back with that useful intel!

What April learned from her intel-gathering is that The Foot think there is some kind of flaw with the armour, like in canon, you know the deal. What differs from canon is exactly how that flaw occured. Turns out that Donnie when he was younger got a little bit carried away with giving Shelldon cool powerful weapons and Shelldon enced up accidentally shooting up the teapot to smithereens, oopsie! Donnie managed to reassembe it before Splinter saw, but with one of the pieces having gone missing he had to sacrifice his Atomic Lass figurine to plug up the final hole (he's still upset about that to this day btw). BUT POINT IS, like in canon this means that the armour has a obvious weakpoint and if they hit that it might be enough to knock Draxum out of the armour!

You know what happens next, they resume the fighting with this new strategy in mind and eventually they manage to get a lucky hit in and as predicted knocking out the Atomic Lass toy causes Draxum to get knocked out as well. Except YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS and you know it's not quite that easy. Lo and behold, the Atomic Lass figurine was the last thing keeping The Shredder from being resurrected, so now that it's gone? Yeah, the Dark Armour is finally completed, it slurps Draxum's life-force or whatever and then spits him out.

The Shredder is back.

... Except not entirely of course, like in canon he's acting like a wild animal attacking anything that moves, but regardless it's still a new threat they have to deal with. With Draxum being so hurt, Leo makes the decision to portal him back home, and to also send Mikey with him. Both because Draxum probably needs someone to look after him and also Leo doesn't really wanna deal with Mikey's attitude at the moment with everything else going on lmao.

From here on out the battle against Shredder begins. This too goes mostly the same way as in canon, Shredder kinda kicks all of their asses before suddenly teleporting away, and then that song and dance repeats a couple of times before Team Good Guys figure they need a better strategy. Splinter brings up how Big Mama would probably have a way to subdue Shredder, only problem is that it's BIG MAMA and he does NOT wanna go anywhere close to her. In canon Leo brought Splinter with him to BM anyway, but in the AU he kinda respects Splinter, or rather Lou Jitsu, too much to force him to come along. Instead Leo decides he and Raph will go to BM for help, while the others keep Shredder from completely wrecking New York.

The rest of the finale will continue in Part 2! (which is coming soon)

#tiz sep au #tizel art #my art #digital art #tmnt #rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt au #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt april #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt draxum #rottmnt shredder #rottmnt shelldon

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vamptizm · 12 days ago

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THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY — p. bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x ex-teammate!reader

synopsis: draft night brings the spotlight, but all paige cares about is your new chapter together. you can’t keep your eyes off her and she can’t keep her hands off. between flashing cameras, whispered touches and a whole lot of eye fucking— you can’t wait to leave the after party.

warnings: fluff. nasty smut. dirty talk. switch!paige. switch!reader. oral (both receiving) fingering (p! receiving) strap-on sex (r!receiving)

word count: 6.9k lol

note: this took a while to finish cuz i’m lazy… so sorry but yeah i love former teammate reader like thats my shittt (anyway lmk if u wanna be added to my main/regular taglist) also idk if i properly proof read ts tbh

@brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @ekisokay @paige05bby @sierrale8ne @ohmybueckers @pboogerswbb @yailtsv @xxloveralways14 @prettygirl-gabi

It started in the massive hotel suite Paige had insisted on paying for herself, no matter how much you protested. She'd told you it was a once-in-a-lifetime night — her night — and she wanted everything to be perfect, down to the last rose petal in the oversized bathtub neither of you had touched.

The two of you got ready in separate areas of the suite, your glam teams swirling around you like little clouds of hairspray and lipstick, carefully keeping you from seeing each other before the big reveal. Paige's hair and makeup wrapped up before yours, her naturally striking features needing far less to glow.

It wasn't long before your own team was finishing the final touches. A dab of maroon lipstick. A spritz of setting spray. A gentle hand smoothing a strand of hair into place before sealing it all with hairspray. You sat still under their soft, expert touch, your heart pounding a little harder with every second — not from nerves about the cameras or the crowd, but for her.

A knock. Light, impatient.

"Can I come see the bride?" Paige called through the door, her voice teasing, giddy.

Your glam team exchanged knowing smirks as you bit back a laugh, heat blooming on your cheeks. You rolled your eyes playfully, giving them a nod. One of them called out, "Come on in, Romeo."

The door creaked open. First just her head peeking in, then the rest of her as she slid through the opening — and paused.

The second Paige laid eyes on you, she froze. Her breath caught audibly, her lips parting just slightly in awe. You were still seated, body facing away from her, draped in a black gown with a high slit that sparkled under the lights. It hugged every curve like it had been sewn onto your skin, dipping and hugging at the chest just enough to make her heart stop. Your hair was swept into a loose updo, face framed by soft strands, eyes rimmed in smoky shadows, lips painted a deep, seductive maroon. Femme fatale didn't even begin to cover it. You were art — and Paige was speechless.

And god, you weren't any better.

Your eyes raked over her slowly, shamelessly. She stood tall in a three-piece sparkly suit — a deep and ashy, dark brown that looked like it had been dipped in stardust. It clung to her frame in all the right places, tailored and sharp. Her beachy waves were tousled to perfection, her makeup darker than usual — eyeliner smudged just enough, blush warm on her cheekbones, lips a soft nude gloss. She looked dangerous. And all yours.

You stood, heels clicking softly against the floor, your team slipping out with satisfied smiles. You took a few steps forward until you were right in front of her — so close, you could feel her breath.

Her hands found your waist instantly, pulling you close with a possessive kind of tenderness, her eyes slowly dragging down your body like she was memorizing every inch.

And you mirrored it — gaze trailing over her black chrome nails, the rings on her fingers, the subtle glint of jewelry. You wanted to devour her. To tear every piece off just to see the flushed skin underneath.

But for now, you just stood there. Breathing each other in. A heartbeat before the world would finally see what only the two of you had known all along.

Your hands found solace on her shoulders, the rough shimmer of her suit catching under your palms. You let your fingers trace a line down the structured lapels before resting again, just feeling her there, grounding yourself in her presence.

"The bride, huh?" you teased with a grin, your voice low and warm as it echoed her earlier joke.

Paige's features softened — just slightly, but enough. Her gaze flicked down, and for a moment, you saw her disappear into the thought. You could see it all over her face: flashes of white silk, a crowded aisle, you waiting at the end of it — radiant, hers. She didn't think you could ever be more beautiful than you were right now... but something told her you'd prove her wrong again.

"I mean, it's fitting, isn't it?" she said, the smirk creeping back onto her face as her hands tightened around your waist. "Got my girl getting ready for the world to finally see us together."

You chuckled quietly, eyes soft. "Sure. Maybe one day."

And just like that, her heart stuttered in her chest.

Your perfume lingered in the air between you, thick and dizzying, but it was nothing compared to her — her grip on your hips, the look in her eyes, like she wanted to swallow you whole.

"Wanna kiss you so bad, mama," she murmured, breath fanning hot against your lips. Her voice was rough with restraint, and the weight of it sent a shiver down your spine.

You leaned in, your mouth close — so close — just barely brushing hers without giving in. The teasing was mutual torture. "Can't mess up my lipstick, baby. We've got, what, five minutes before Brittany busts in here yelling at us?" Your hand slid to the back of her neck, nails gently grazing her skin as you held her close.

Paige groaned quietly, rolling her eyes like a petulant child. "Yeah, yeah... whatever," she muttered — but her hands had already moved, trailing down the curve of your waist until they landed on your ass. She gave it a greedy squeeze and kept her hands there, possessive and smug.

You arched into her a little, biting down a smirk, doing everything in your power not to push her back onto the bed and climb into her lap. The tension buzzed between you like static. Just one move would set the whole thing on fire.

Right on cue, Brittany's voice rang from the other side of the suite. "Whatever you two are doing in there, knock it off — we've gotta head out now."

Paige groaned dramatically, burying her face briefly into your neck. "Cockblock," she mumbled, before stealing a kiss just beneath your jaw — a soft, sultry press of her lips that made you melt into her just a second longer.

She pulled back with one last squeeze of your ass. "Can't wait to show you off to the world, pretty girl," she murmured, lips curling into a smirk that made your knees weak.

Finally, the two of you stepped out of the room hand-in-hand like you owned the world — or at least each other.

Brittany stood waiting with crossed arms, one brow raised in that auntie way she had, but a smile tugged at her lips despite herself. She plucked Paige's lip gloss from her bag without a word and dabbed it over her lips.

"Kids," she sighed with a fake huff and a real softness in her eyes.

The orange carpet was buzzing, cameras flashing like stars against a twilight sky. You stepped out first, the flashbulbs catching every detail of your sparkly black gown as reporters immediately swarmed your way—calling your name like clockwork. Rookie of the Year, WNBA champion, former Husky. The attention came with the territory. You didn't love the spotlight, but you knew how to own it when it was time.

Still, this wasn't your night. It was Paige's. You'd made sure of that by insisting she arrive a few minutes after you, allowing her the entrance she deserved—undivided and electric.

And when she finally stepped out, it was exactly that.

From where she stood a few feet away, Paige watched you pose. You looked every bit like a cover star—poised, graceful, devastating. Her heart kicked up in her chest as she took you in. You were a vision, and she was absolutely obsessed.

She wasn't even looking at the cameras when it happened—her body turned toward a reporter, mid-interview, answering a question about the big moment ahead—when her head suddenly twisted, eyes locking on yours as you passed behind her. It was like she'd felt you. Or maybe she'd caught your perfume in the air. Either way, her smile grew wide, involuntarily. And yours matched, just as quiet and private in the middle of all that noise.

It was nearly time. The orange carpet faded behind you, and the buzz of the venue took over as the draft finally began.

You hadn't seen Paige's second outfit yet. All you knew was that it was black—and she'd only told you that because she was desperate to match. You'd teased her for it, but you'd picked your gown with her in mind.

Instead of sitting with your new Dallas Wings teammates, like you were expected to, you were already tucked into a seat at Paige's table—right beside her parents and Geno—while she finished up press duties and changed. She had insisted you sit with them. No words needed to be said. The message was clear: you were hers, and she wanted the world to know it... without ever needing to say it aloud.

"Get out my spot, boy."

You turned at the sound of her voice, just in time to see her shoulder-bump her dad playfully.

And then—your breath hitched. The suit. That suit.

A black Louis Vuitton suit tailored to perfection. The deep V-neck of the blazer dipped low—dangerously low—bedazzled in beautiful black gems, catching the light when she moved. She wore nothing beneath it, and the amount of skin on display was enough to short-circuit your thoughts entirely. You wondered if you leaned just a bit forward, just for a second, would you catch a glimpse of her bare chest?

You already knew the answer.

She sat beside you, casual as ever, like she wasn't single-handedly wrecking your entire existence. "Just a heads up," she said, leaning in close. "I'm mic'd up."

You almost snorted—but you couldn't. Not with the way she looked. Not with her new hairstyle, slightly more neat than before, perfectly intentional. Not with her legs subtly spread and her hand draped lazily over her thigh. Not with that open blazer staring back at you, smug as hell.

You took a slow, measured breath and tried to remember how to think. The lights dimmed slightly and the commissioner approached the stage.

You felt her hand slip beneath the table and find yours, fingers lacing together. Her grip was tight, excited, grounded in something bigger than nerves. This wasn't fear. This was anticipation.

Your eyes met, and she squeezed once.

Then came the words.

"With the first pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft... the Dallas Wings select... Paige Bueckers."

The weight on her shoulders lifted all at once—her mouth tugging into a soft, almost dazed smile. She stood, and so did you, your hand reaching to fix the slight scrunch in her blazer out of instinct, smoothing it down without thinking.

You expected her to hug her family first. Geno second. You figured she'd save you for last, maybe sneak in something later, off-camera.

Instead, she turned and kissed you. Right there. Soft, quick, but real.

You barely had time to register it before she pulled you into a tight embrace. And even though it hadn't been planned—hadn't even been discussed—it felt right. Natural. Easy.

Your arms wrapped around her in return, smiling against her shoulder, eyes a little wide but heart so full it nearly ached.

She moved on to her parents, to Geno, before finally making her way to the stage. The camera flashes picked up again as she accepted her Wings jersey and posed for photos, a confident grin painted across her face.

You looked up at her, your heart swelling in your chest as a tear slid silently down your cheek. You were the epitome of heart eyes. She looked radiant up there. Like she belonged. It was everything she'd worked for — and now, everything the two of you would take on together.

Her name echoed through the stadium.

Paige Bueckers. Dallas Wings.

You smiled, wiping at your cheek, still staring up at the stage like she hung the moon. Because to you, she always had.

Paige got swept up the moment she got off that stage — pictures with fans, videos, congratulatory hugs from just about every recognizable face in the building. You'd hung back with your Dallas teammates at first, still giddy with adrenaline from the draft and high on the electricity of it all. Your Wings hat sat perched on your head, pride swelling in your chest as you hugged, dapped up, and jumped with your new team. Nobody in that building was more thrilled to have Paige in Dallas than you.

After that, you found yourself surrounded by your UConn girls—Nika, Aaliyah, Aubrey, KK and everyone else. Screaming your lungs out together when Kaitlyn's name was called, jumping up and down with Aubrey when hers followed. Paige had jogged over at some point, catching the tail end of Kaitlyn's stage moment, joining your crew just long enough to plant a quick kiss to the side of your head and recording a few moments. It was chaos— but the best kind. And through it all, your eyes kept drifting back to her.

The after party was in full swing by the time you and Paige made your entrance, each of you having slipped into something a little more relaxed but still striking enough to turn heads. Her oversized, shimmery white button-up caught the dim lights just right, while the soft gray checkered pants hung low on her hips. Your outfit — hair down, a sparkly two-piece that shimmered with every step and pushed your chest up like a gift-wrapped secret — had her nearly stumbling the moment she laid eyes on you again.

Later, under the haze of neon and soft bass rumbling through the floor, you found yourself dancing with Nika and Aaliyah, swaying your hips to whatever song was flooding the space. Paige stood just across the room, still holding court, still playing it cool — until she wasn't. Her eyes kept finding yours like magnets. Your thighs squeezed every time they did. You couldn't stop thinking about the way her lips felt on yours. The way her hand had squeezed yours under the table. The way her eyes had traced your body in that black gown like she was starving.

When she started handing out shots, you knew what time it was. You weren't much of a drinker, but for her? Tonight? You'd drink the whole damn bar.

Paige made her way back to you with a devilish glint in her eye, already holding two shot glasses in one hand. She handed you one, but when you went to lift it to your lips, she stopped you with a cocky smirk.

"Nah, lemme." She tilted your head back with her fingertips, pouring the liquid down your throat like she owned you — and she kinda did. You coughed, laughing, a stray drop sliding down your jaw. Her tongue was on you before you could wipe it away, licking the trail down your neck with a low hum of satisfaction.

"Fuck," you whispered, eyes fluttering. The heat between your legs had long since stopped being subtle. Your panties were soaked, your body begging for hers.

She stayed glued to you after that — one arm slung around your shoulder, or curled protectively around your waist. Her chin pressed to your shoulder while you talked to others, her fingers occasionally brushing over the skin peeking between the hem of your top and the waistband of your skirt. You tried to stay composed, but her touches were calculated. She knew exactly how to unravel you without anyone else catching on. At least not yet.

By the time the clock hit 2 a.m., all hope of keeping things low-key was gone.

You were dancing on her now, her front pressed tightly against your back as your hips rolled in slow, hypnotic circles. Your ass ground into her hips every time the beat dropped, her kissing the tattoos on your arms, and hands gripped your waist like she was holding on for dear life. One slipped lower, guiding your body against hers until you could feel the heat of her through her pants. Her lips were at your ear, whispering the nastiest things that made your knees weak and your breath stutter.

You didn't even care who was watching.

It had been over a year of private kisses behind closed doors. Of lives where you had to stay away from each other, hidden dates, stolen glances, fake stories. Tonight? You were done hiding.

You turned to face her, lips brushing hers with every breath, your hands sliding up the firm line of her chest, palms resting against the shimmer of her shirt. "Take me home," you whispered into her mouth.

She didn't say a word.

Just grabbed your hand and led you out the back door, that same smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

The second the elevator door clicked shut behind you, Paige had you pinned to the nearest wall.

Her mouth was on yours with a hunger you hadn't tasted in weeks — not like this. Not publicly buzzed, not in celebration, not with months of restraint finally breaking like a dam. Her hands gripped your thighs before sliding up, catching under your ass to lift you effortlessly. You gasped against her lips as your legs wrapped around her waist.

"Wanted you all night, ma," she breathed into your neck, kissing a path down to your collarbone. "Looking like that... fuck were you thinking?"

"Thinking about you taking this top off with your teeth," you whispered, fingers tangled in her hair.

Her laugh was low, dangerous, sending a shiver straight through you. "You're not making it to the bedroom if you keep talking like that."

"Then don't make me wait."

She didn't. She carried you through the hallway, her hat tilted backward on her head, your body wrapped around hers like it belonged there. Which it did. You barely registered being pinned to the still locked door, too distracted by her mouth nipping at your jaw, her hand slipping between your legs, pressing through the thin fabric of your skirt. You whimpered into her mouth as she pressed her fingers harder against your core, smirking when she felt just how soaked you were for her.

The second the hotel room door opened, you guided her towards the bed, pushing her backward and watching her fall onto the bed, legs sprawled, shirt half open.

You took your hat off slowly, teasing, eyes locked on hers the whole time. Then you climbed onto her lap, straddling her with a slow grind that made her hiss through her teeth.

Her hands were on your hips immediately. "Don't start something you can't finish."

You leaned down, your lips brushing hers again. "I plan on finishing all night."

You kissed her hard, desperate, grinding against the firm heat between her legs. Her hands pushed up your top, fingers grazing the soft skin of your stomach, then higher, until your bra-covered chest was in full view.

"Fuck," she muttered, pulling the fabric down and burying her face between your breasts. Her tongue flicked over your skin, her hands squeezing, kneading, touching like she was trying to memorize every inch.

You whimpered, your fingers digging into her shoulders. "Take it off. Please."

She obliged— unhooking your bra with one hand and carelessly throwing away to the floor. Immediately, her lips wrapped around your nipples, sucking and tugging on them, gently grazing them with her teeth.

Paige sat up, your legs still wrapped around her and now it was her turn to toss you onto the bed and on your back. The girl crawled over you, her eyes studying you like you were a deer and she was the starving lion waiting to tear you apart.

Her tongue trailed down your body, slow and dangerous. The blonde pushed your skirt up to your waist and when she finally kissed the inside of your thighs, you almost cried. But she didn't dive in right away. She teased. Kisses, nibbles, her nose brushing against the wet patch of your panties.

"You smell so good," she whispered. "So fucking sweet."

You whimpered again, arching into her touch. "Paige..."

And when she finally pulled your flimsy panties aside and dragged her flat tongue up your slit, you forgot how to breathe. Once. Twice.

She licked you like she was starved—fingers digging into your thighs, as your back arched and your hands scrambled for something—*anything*—to hold on to. That Dallas Wings hat still backwards on her head. She wrapped her arms under your thighs and pulled you closer, locking you down, owning the way your body responded to her. You could barely squirm as she dipped her tongue deeper into you. She moaned into you when you tugged her hair, the vibration making your legs shake.

Paige's lips tugged at your folds, your pussy slick with a mixture of your arousal and her spit, and every single time she wrapped them around your clit, it elicited yet another whine from you.

You mindlessly pushed her head closer to your pussy, feeling the tip of her nose against your clit while her tongue circled your entrance, dipping in and out — letting your wetness seep into her mouth.

"Tastes so fucking good." She mumbled against you absentmindedly, sending more tingly vibration up your spine. She could stay between your legs for hours, just lapping at your soaked pussy.

She didn't stop. Not when you gasped. Not when your voice cracked. Not when you almost crushed her head with your thighs. Not even when you came on her tongue, thighs trembling, mouth open in a silent cry.

You barely had time to recover before she was climbing up your body again, her mouth shining with you, her eyes dark and blown.

You were still catching your breath when she pulled away—her lips red and swollen from kissing you, eyes low and dark with desire. Without a word, Paige leaned in to kiss your jaw, then your neck, and finally your shoulder.

"Said you'd finish all night f'me, yeah?" she whispered, kissing your swollen lips again. "Wait here, I got something for you, baby."

You did as told, legs still a little shaky, heart still racing as the heat between them pulsed with anticipation. You watched her disappear into the walk-in closet of the suite, her shimmery white button-up shirt sticking slightly to her back from the sweat of your bodies pressed together on the dance floor all night.

When she returned, your breath caught in your throat.

The shirt was completely unbuttoned now, hanging loose and exposing her chest. Her pants were still on, but unzipped, just low enough to reveal the black harness hugging her hips, snug against her skin. And in place — her surprise — bold and thick, gleaming slightly from the lube she'd clearly already applied. She stood at the foot of the bed, letting you take it all in.

"Y'gonna let me fuck you?" she asked lowly, voice raspy from drinks and desire. Her eyes were on you — predatory, hungry.

You couldn't speak, only nodded, lips parted slightly as your thighs pressed together unconsciously.

Paige stepped forward slowly, her hand gripping your chin gently, tilting your face upward. "Told you I wanted to show you off tonight," she whispered. "But honestly? I fucking hated how everyone had their eyes on my girl.”

She flipped you over onto your stomach with little effort. Her hands found your hips, tugging the already hiked-up sparkly skirt a little higher, exposing you. She bent you forward until your chest met the sheets, arching your back just the way she liked it.

"You kept teasing me all night," she murmured behind you, dragging her nails down your spine. "Dancing on me like that... talking all sweet, acting innocent. You thought I wasn't gonna do somethin’ about it?"

You whimpered at the feeling of her lining up behind you, the blunt pressure just barely pushing against your entrance. "Wanted you to."

"You got it, baby."

Her hand slid up your spine, slowly, tracing the curve of your back like she was memorizing it. You felt her press a kiss to the small of it, soft and warm, just before her palm smoothed over your hip and her other hand settled firmly between your shoulder blades, holding you steady.

The first push was torturously slow — just the tip, easing in with deliberate patience. You gasped at the stretch, your body instinctively trying to push back for more, but Paige tightened her grip, keeping you exactly where she wanted you.

"Nuh-uh," she said, her voice dark and low, lips brushing against your ear as she leaned over you. "Y'gonna take it slow first, yeah? Want you to feel every inch."

And you did.

Paige didn't rush. She rocked her hips in gentle, controlled thrusts, just deep enough to make your breath hitch every time she bottomed out. The wet sounds between your thighs, the soft pants leaving your mouth, the way your fingers gripped the sheets — she drank in all of it, eyes locked on the way your body moved beneath her.

"You're fucking dripping," she muttered, almost to herself, voice thick with awe and arousal. "Knew you'd take me so good."

And then, just when you started to settle into the rhythm, thinking maybe she'd keep it tender tonight, she pulled almost all the way out—then slammed back in with a force that knocked the wind out of you.

Your moan was immediate, raw, punched from your throat. Face pressed down into the mattress, ass up high for her.

"There she is," Paige growled, hand fisting into your hair and yanking your head back just enough to keep you gasping. "That's the sound I wanna hear."

"Makeup's getting all over the sheets." You barely managed a coherent sentence.

Paige only chuckled, "On my life, i don't give a fuck."

She didn't hold back after that.

The slow, sensual strokes were over—replaced by quick, deep thrusts that had you clawing at the sheets, crying out her name. One hand stayed gripping your hip tight enough to bruise while the other slipped around to your front, finding your clit with practiced ease.

"Such a good girl," she murmured against your neck, voice ragged, "taking all of me like that. Look at you. Fuck—look at you."

"Eyes up, ma," Paige grunted, roughly grabbing your chin and turning your face toward the floor-length mirror just a few feet away. "Want you to see how fucked out you look when I'm guts deep inside you."

The sight had you whimpering. Your sparkly skirt was bunched around your waist, your thighs trembling, and Paige — shirt open, chest bare, pants low on her hips — looked like a goddamn dream behind you. One hand gripped your hip, the other pressed flat against your lower back, keeping your arch deep as she thrust into you again, hard enough to make the bed shake.

You chased her eyes and you saw her watching your pussy swallow her strap, her lips parted and eyes filled with lust.

"Fuck, baby," she groaned, watching her hips slam into you in the reflection. "Look at you takin' it so good. Dripping all over me, makin' a mess."

Your eyes fluttered but Paige's fingers gripped your jaw again, more demanding this time. "Nah, keep 'em open. Look at what I'm doin' to you. You see this? You feel how deep I am?"

You nodded, broken sounds spilling from your mouth that didn't even sound like words anymore.

"That's right," she purred. "You're mine. My pretty girl. Fuckin' mine."

She slammed into you again, rougher, and the mirror caught the exact moment your body gave out just a little, arms trembling under your weight. Paige growled behind you and pulled you upright by your chest, your back flush to her front now, her length still buried inside you.

"Can't even hold yourself up, huh?" she rasped against your ear. "I love you like this. So fucked out for me. So needy. You were waitin' for this, weren't you?"

You nodded frantically, breath hot, your hands clawing at hers where they gripped your body.

"Use your words," Paige demanded. "Tell me who got you like this."

"You, mama," you whined pathetically, helpless and aching. "Only you."

"Damn right. I fuckin’ own this pussy."

Paige was so fucking wet and her clit throbbing, begging for stimulation but there's only so much she could do while focusing on digging deep in you.

She bent you forward again, one hand now tangled in your hair, the other wrapped tight around your waist as she started pounding into you, relentless. You met her eyes in the mirror — dark, focused, full of hunger—and that look alone had you spiraling.

"Wanna feel you cum on me," she muttered, her voice deep and filthy. "Right here, on this dick. Make a mess f'me. Can feel you gripping my shit, mama."

The knot in your stomach began to tighten impossibly at the sound of Paige's sinful words and the squelching sound of your sopping cunt. You hadn't even had the chance to warn her before the rope snapped, your mouth falling open in a high pitched moan before it went silent. There was no doubt that you'd made a mess on her, just like she wanted it.

"That'sss it, mama," she grunted lowly, blunt nails digging into the skin of your hips. "Just creaming on this dick, hm?"

After the high, you collapsed onto your back, chest heaving, your lungs chasing air like you'd just run miles. The room spun just a little — not from the alcohol, not even from the high — but from her. From Paige. The way she looked at you like you were the only thing that existed in the entire damn world.

Paige's hand found yours almost immediately, her fingers weaving through yours, grounding you. Her other hand smoothed over your stomach, slow and gentle, tracing mindless patterns as she pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your neck, then your cheek.

"You're okay, princess," she whispered against your skin, voice warm and low and so full of something deeper. "Breathe for me."

You did, exhaling shakily as her lips moved across your jaw. She brushed your hair back with a careful touch, thumb caressing your cheek. You leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut, your body still trembling slightly from the aftermath.

"Still with me?" she asked, softer now, teasing but laced with love.

You nodded, letting out a short, breathy laugh as you sat up. "Barely."

That earned a quiet smile from her, and she pulled you close for a moment, your head resting against her chest as she kissed your temple and held you there.

But not for long.

You shifted, slowly, your muscles still warm and loose. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eye and one last deep breath, you flipped the two of you over — her now beneath you, laid out again in all her glory.

Paige grinned up at you, winded in a different way, hands automatically resting at your hips. "Oh," she murmured, clearly amused, "we're not done, huh?"

You leaned down, your lips brushing hers just barely. "Not even close."

She stared up at you, her eyes hungry, her chest rising and falling just a bit faster now.

You took your time, letting your hands trail down her arms, then her thighs, coaxing them apart with slow, teasing pressure. She let out a soft breath, already pliant under your touch.

"You always look so fucking sexy. It's not fair." you spoke, as you began to work her pants lower — slowly, watching every flicker of expression on her face. She groaned under her breath, tilting her head back as the fabric dragged against her legs.

"Only for you," she breathed, her voice low and wrecked.

Once her pants and your skirt were discarded, you kissed your way up her thighs, gentle but purposeful, trailing soft touches over her hips. Her fingers tangled in your hair before you even got all the way up, desperate to feel more of you, to ground herself in the moment.

"You're killing me, mama," she rasped, the nickname slipping from her lips like a prayer.

You smiled against her skin, your breath warm against her stomach as you moved higher, the tension between you crackling like fire.

You pulled back slowly, your body tingling, your breath a little uneven. Paige whined quietly at the loss, eyes fluttering open, chasing your touch even as you sat up.

But instead of diving right in, you just... looked at her.

The room was quiet again, save for the heavy sound of her breathing. The sight before you made your chest ache — and something deeper burn.

Paige lay sprawled across the bed, her legs parted slightly, her arms loose by her sides like she'd completely unraveled for you. The oversized white button-up clung to her in the most sinful way, the fabric open and exposing every soft curve of her chest and waist. Her skin practically glowed in the dim lighting, flushed from heat and wine and everything you'd just done to her.

Your eyes traveled down her body slowly, drinking her in. The black boxers she still wore clung to her hips in a way that made your mouth go dry, riding low, the waistband stretching slightly over her stomach. She looked like a Calvin Klein ad, if Calvin Klein ads were made to ruin you.

"You're so..." You couldn't even finish the sentence, voice catching in your throat. Your fingers trailed lightly along the hem of her waistband, dragging just a little.

Paige's lips parted, her eyes hazy and wild with need. "Say it."

You let out a soft laugh, the pads of your fingers dipping just beneath the band now, teasing. "Perfect," you whispered. "You're perfect like this."

She smirked, but it was weak — dazed. "Then what are you waitin' for, ma?"

That was all it took.

You leaned back over her, your lips brushing her jaw, your hands firm on her hips now as you tugged the boxers down her legs — slow, like you wanted to savor every inch of skin as it was revealed. She lifted her hips for you without needing to be asked, letting you strip her bare, bit by bit.

Her hair fanned out around her on the pillow, chest rising and falling in quick, eager breaths, legs open and waiting.

And when you crawled between them, her hands reached for you again — like she couldn't stand another second of distance.

It started out with you pressing open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin of her inner thighs, teasing her torturously slow, trailing your way up higher inch by inch. You couldn't refrain from looking up at her with an infuriating grin.

You were eye level with her cunt in all it’s glistening glory— how could you possibly deprive yourself any longer?

The last bit of oxygen in her lungs was lost when your index and middle finger lay gently over her to spread her folds, tongue darting out to lick a fat, painfully slow stripe up. Her wetness coated your tongue, slick and warm, and you couldn't help but groan before burying yourself into her.

Paige's back arched off the bed slightly, her hands twisted tightly in the sheets as you settled between her thighs. Her breath hitched and the sound that left her lips had you clenching your eyes shut for a second — like it physically hit you.

"Fuck—baby," she gasped, one hand flying up to push her hair back. "You tryna kill me or what?"

You hummed against her, teasing, "Just making up for lost time. Fucking missed this pussy."

Her thighs instinctively tightened around you, and her head fell back against the pillow, the open collar of her button-up slipping further down her shoulders, exposing more of that skin you'd already memorized. She looked wrecked — flushed, glowing, utterly undone. You wanted to etch that image into your mind forever.

The tip of your fingers teased her slick entrance, stretching her out with just the tip of two digits before fully sliding them into her. Moving your head side-to-side, your tongue laid flat against her, digits curving where she needed you most.

"Mama," Paige rasped, voice deeper than usual, breathless. "Right there—shit, right there."

You glanced up at her through your lashes, your smirk impossible to hide. "Yeah? You like that?"

She nodded, biting down on her bottom lip, then whined when you pulled away for a moment just to breathe.

"Say it," you whispered, fingers plunging in and out of her at the perfect pace. "Tell me how good I make you feel, Paige."

Paige's hands tugged at your hair with just the right amount of desperation. "So good. Like I was made for this," she panted, eyes heavy and glassy with need. "Made for you."

You didn't reply with words — you didn't need to. The way your mouth returned to her, slow and intentional, said everything. She cried out, her voice turning into soft curses, muttered praises, her thighs trembling.

"God, you're so fuckin' good," she near to whined. "My girl. All mine."

Her hips began to stutter and you knew she was close — could hear it in her voice, could feel it in the way her hand gripped your shoulder the longer you hit that spongy spot over and over, clenching around you.

"Don't stop," she begged, "please don't—"

You didn't.

The room was dimly lit, but the large mirror across from the bed reflected the scene perfectly — her sprawled out, makeup melting, skin flushed and glowing under your touch. She caught sight of it and groaned softly.

"Look at you," you whispered, glancing up. "Can't believe how good you look falling apart for me."

Paige let out a soft, broken sound—her head tipping back, hand reaching blindly for yours and interlocking. Her legs curled around you, heels digging into the sheets, trying to ground herself against the slow, deliberate way you devoured her. She looked a hot mess, but in the most angelic way possible.

" 'M s-so close— f-fuck." The girl stuttered, too deeply lost in pleasure to form a perfect sentence.

"I know, pretty girl. 'S okay, you can let go for me.”

Every flicker of touch had her unraveling — every movement echoed in the mirror, in the shallow breaths she let out, in the way her back arched off the bed.

And when she finally shattered, trembling and gasping your name, it was with a kind of reverence—like you were everything she'd been waiting for.

Paige was still catching her breath, chest rising and falling steadily. Her skin was flushed, glowing, lips parted as she blinked up at the ceiling, stunned and speechless in the best way.

You pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of her thigh before slowly making your way back up her body, dragging your fingertips across her skin as if memorizing every curve, every freckle. She shivered at your touch, still so sensitive, and let out a soft laugh.

"Aight," she mumbled, her voice hoarse and blissful. "I actually can't feel my legs."

You grinned, settling beside her on your back with a deep exhale, heart still racing. "Good. I was aiming for temporary paralysis."

That earned you a playful smack to the arm, and Paige turned to face you, her cheeks still a little pink. She reached up to brush some damp hair away from your face, fingertips feather-light as she trailed them down your cheek.

"You really don't play fair," she murmured, eyes searching yours. "Ruin me every time."

You leaned into her hand and smiled, lips brushing her wrist. "You ruin me too, you know. It's very fair."

The two of you lay there for a moment, sharing slow breaths in the quiet, your bodies tangled under the sheets. Paige eventually pulled you closer, her arm hooking around your waist and her leg draping over yours, keeping you snug against her.

"I should've worn something uglier," she teased, burying her face into your neck. "didn't expect you to eye-fuck me the second I sat down."

You giggled, carding your fingers through the back of her hair. "Don't know what you expected when I could almost see your tits."

There was a long, blissful silence after that — the kind where words weren't needed, where the warmth of each other's presence said everything. Paige traced slow circles on your back with her fingertips while you lightly tickled her side, making her squirm and giggle before settling again.

Finally, she whispered against your skin, "We really did it. Same team, same future. You and me."

You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. "You and me."

Wrapped in each other's arms, hearts steady and slow, you drifted off with the quiet hum of music still playing from outside the bedroom and the promise of so many more nights like this ahead.

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