#but when it’s him you never mind💕

[kingkatsuki]

We’re just being fed so well this season I’m😫

[juhotonin]

How petty do you wanna be?

FNC: Yes.

[shmothman]

I ALSO AM A LARGE FAN OF LAVENTON AND I AM SHAKING YOUR HAND SO HARD

BIGGEST HANDSHAKE MEME I miss my wife, tails… I miss him so much

[coweye]

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice. 

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was. 

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot. 

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired. 

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face. 

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her. 

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised. 

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features. 

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully. 

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling. 

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red. 

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man. 

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry. 

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.  

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits. 

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?” 

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed. 

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping. 

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline. 

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers. 

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted. 

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet. 

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists. 

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.” 

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp. 

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?” 

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form. 

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue. 

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now.  “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-” 

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily. 

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other. 

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion.  “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that. 

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground. 

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind. 

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him. 

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy. 

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you. 

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead. 

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do. 

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip. 

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura. 

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan. 

He’s just Logan. 

You bury yourself deeper in his neck. 

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut. 

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs. 

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?” 

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you. 

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back. 

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not. 

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue. 

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter.  He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his. 

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.  

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist. 

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart. 

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you. 

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close. 

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve. 

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him. 

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him. 

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional. 

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he. 

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth. 

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-” 

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you. 

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch. 

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth. 

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast. 

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole. 

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin. 

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it. 

 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach. 

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin. 

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard. 

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy. 

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you. 

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers. 

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go. 

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does. 

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing. 

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably. 

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down. 

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh. 

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection. 

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again. 

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind. 

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence. 

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched. 

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“AGH!”  Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you. 

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend. 

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous.  Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands. 

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you.  Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?” 

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously. 

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest. 

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different. 

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours. 

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back. 

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“Love, you really don’t have to.” Simon murmured, his heart racing as he watched you sink to your knees in front of him. His heart was racing a mile a minute, his hands shaking as he struggled with where to put them.

He’d never gotten head before, not once. Nobody had ever offered, and Simon wasn’t the kind of man to ask for any favors in bed. He was always curious though, always wanted to know what it would feel like.

“I want to.” You replied, batting your beautiful, lust blown eyes up at him. “Want to make you feel good, Simon.”

Simon let out a soft groan at your words, and watched as you pulled his hardening length out of the confines of his pants. He held his breath in anticipation, his eyes struggling not to flutter closed as he felt your warm hand wrap around his length.

His breath hitched in his throat as you swirled your tongue across his tip, your eyes fluttering shut at the taste of the accumulated pre-cum soaking the head. He felt you moan softly against it, your tongue beginning to drag up and down his now rock hard cock.

His mind went numb when you finally took him into your mouth, your pretty pink lips thinning around the thickness of his length. He felt your mouth tighten around him, creating a tight, wet suction.

It took everything in him not to cum then and there, between the sight of you taking what you could of his length in your mouth, mixed with the feeling of your wet, hot mouth around his cock was overwhelming.

He let his hands fall to your cheeks, gently cupping at your warm flesh as you began to bob your mouth up and down his length. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, twisting at what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Simon let out chorus of soft grunts and groans, his mind still blissfully numb as he concentrated on the wet, lewd noises your mouth was making, and just how fucking good your pretty lips felt around his cock.

The pleasure was almost too much, and Simon could feel his stomach tighten, a pleasant burn filling his abdomen as his orgasm rapidly approached. His whole body began to tingle, his legs beginning to tremble as you attempted to take him deeper into your mouth.

“Wait, wait, please I’m going to cum.” Simon breathed out, his hands which were on your cheeks gently urging you to pull your head away. “Sw-sweetheart, please.”

But you remained where you were, fully intent on finishing what you started. You hollowed your cheeks further, your tongue skimming along the underside of his length at you continued to bob your head.

“Shit, fuck!” Simon growled, his hands finding your hair and gripping harshly, his cock pulsing inside your mouth as his hot cum shot down your throat. Butterflies filled his belly as he struggled to regain his breath, his cheeks burning crimson from embarrassment. “F-fuck, I’m so sorry.”

You pulled away, your eyes locked on your lovers as you made a show of swallowing what was left of his cum. Simon felt his cock twitch at the sight, as a low grown escaped him. “Oh fuck.”

It was simply the hottest fucking thing Simon had ever seen in his life. And god he wanted to do it again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As always thank you SO much to all the immense support recently!!!💕💕💕💕

[dumbbitchgalore]

Aphrodisiac chocolate ft. old man!Price 💕🍫

A few days ago, you receive a box of chocolates from your best friend. It was a black velvety box which almost seemed too sophisticated for a chocolate box. You couldn't help but remember the look on her face when she gave you the box. All winky and smily. At one point you thought that she either had a stroke or that her face got stuck in that position

Now a few days later, you stare at the same box in your fridge sighing softly. Most be one hell of a good chocolate if the box looks like that. You shrug your shoulders and open the box to see what the stroke-like face was all about.

You open the box and only see three divots where the chocolate is supposed to sit, except one is missing. Thinking John may have eaten one, you go to your shared bedroom to ask what it tasted like before you eat one yourself. You've always been skeptical of new desserts so you want to ask him before you tried it just incase it wasn't your cup of tea.

But when you enter the bedroom, you do not expect to find what you did

John Price, former SAS captain, in bed with his eyes screwed shut fisting his cock which looked painfully hard. You drink up the sight in front of you as you listen to his breathy pants and desperate grunts. You walk up to the edge of the bed and move the hair that's clinging to his forehead.

"Honey." You call out to him.

His doesn't stop his movements and just simply opens his eyes slightly, jerking his cock at a brutally fast pace,

"Sweetheart." He croaks out as if he's in pain.

You frown at his discomfort.

"What do you need, handsome?" You whispers softly.

And that was enough to have John manhandle you onto the bed, laying on your chest with your arse in the air. You gasp at his roughness but have never seen John like this before.

John simply moves your panties to the side and rams his cock inside of you. You yelp in shock but that soon turns into a moan when he starts fucking you.

Nice and deep. Hard and merciless. Fuck, this felt good. It felt too good. Your moans are salacious as they reverberate off the walls of your bedroom.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You squeal.

John lets out a breathy laugh as he continues his brutal pace not stopping for a second. And poor you had your face smashed against the pillows but it's not like you mind it one bit. Your moans only get obsscenely louder

A few more thrusts and his cums so hard inside of you that you yelp at the new sensation. Hot, thick and sticky cum coating your insides. And at the same time you chant his name like a prayer as your orgasm hits you hard. John teasingly pulls out and with it, his cum starts to leak out of your hole. You pant and you go limp in bed. Damn, that felt good.

John chuckles, kissing your forehead. "Sometimes I wish that I could do all the time. You deserve being covered in my cum, birdie."

You chuckle hoarsely too. "I don't think I could keep up with you if you're like this all the time." You mumble softly.

He hums in agreement, laying down next to you as he rubs your back gently. "Those chocolates are something else, huh?"

Your eyes widen slightly.

Oh so that's what the chocolates are for.

[targaryen-dynasty]

SET ME ALIGHT AGAIN.

Cregan Stark x female!Targaryen!Reader (Part 2 here)

"It was on request of your younger brother's small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And now it's at his hands that the haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s giving back to you. And you let it flood you."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; p in v, oral (fem receiving), angst (?), breeding kink, size kink, size difference, romantic fucking in front of the fireplace, afab reader, post dance of the dragons

WORDS: 4.8 K

NOTES: I dedicate this to @sylasthegrim. You're not only one of the few people I really grew fond of in the short time we truly got to know each other, but since both our minds basically came down to the same idea, this is for you! Thanks for beta reading this. 💕

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

You’ve been in Winterfell for a moon’s turn by now, and have quickly noticed that the ancestral castle possesses a beauty and calmness the Red Keep can be jealous of. But even that isn’t enough to make you feel at home – as if you could ever call a place your home again. Not after you’ve witnessed almost everyone in your family, no matter whether you liked them or not, perish at the hands of each other. 

It was on request of your younger brother, now dubbed King Aegon the third, or rather of his small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And while you’re grateful for the chance to flee the one place that has caused you more hurt than good, riding in a carriage up to the far North like a commoner wasn’t exactly pleasant. 

But how else should you have gotten there when your precious mount died along its kind as the common people stormed the Dragonpit?

For the past month, you’ve very rarely seen the sun – or anyone else than your maids. 

Your days are spent in your chambers, not leaving the safety of the Guest House as you often try to find the sleep you can’t seem to get at night. And during the night, when the Hour of the Owl strikes and no light other than that of the moon reaches Winterfell, one often finds you wandering the quiet halls of the castle. Sometimes one even spots you outside in the Godswood, regardless of the low temperatures that make the three pools fed by an underground hot spring look even more inviting. 

But warmth and comfort are never what you’re after. 

You feel incredibly daring tonight, sitting beneath the ancient weirwood tree on one of its roots. Although there is a thick fur coat draped around your frame, the thin nightgown beneath does not allow you to be kept as warm as one usually desires, your bare feet hidden inside of the coat not a big help either. 

Tiptoeing barefoot through the snow was the hardest part, but it was worth it as it gave you exactly what your body longs for. 

You’re far too absorbed by the reflection of the moon dancing on the pool of black water beneath the tree, and the peaceful allure of the snow-covered night that you don’t notice you’re not alone anymore.  

“Princess?” a husky voice rings out from the shadows, one you’d even recognize in a room full of loud and drunken men. 

Almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, the tall frame of the Lord of Winterfell approaches you without any sudden moves, becoming more visible with the moonlight shining down on him. “What are you doing out here this late?”

Only when he’s stopping not far away from you do you avert your eyes from him to the water again. “I could ask you the same, Lord Stark,” you reply softly. 

A chuckle rumbles in his chest at your remark, and you can’t help the tint of heat hearing it brings to your cheeks. “Indeed you could,” he says. “I have not slept well, and the night has a peaceful allure. But you should not be out in the open without any guards, especially not this late at night.”

You drag your index finger through the snow at your side, drawing a mindless pattern in the dark as you do not pay any mind to his words. “And why is that, Lord Stark?” you ask, a certain snarkiness to your tone. “There is nothing worse that could happen to me than what I have already endured.”

Cregan sighs, and even in the dim light you can make out that he’s scratching his stubble covered chin. “And yet, should something else happen to you, I would not like myself for neglecting you and not protecting you just as I have sworn to the king,” he explains. “Besides, there is a cold chill in the air that I can not believe you are not feeling right now.”

“Perhaps that is the answer you’ve been looking for, my lord,” you mumble. “Perhaps I came here to feel something.”

The Wolf of the North doesn’t immediately answer you. Instead, there lingers a pause between you. But it’s not uncomfortable or feels as though it doesn't pass, no, you find yourself to actually enjoy his company. 

His next words, however, even surprise you as you didn’t think he was capable of it. “Feeling the cold of the snow has its way to make one feel alive, that much is true,” he agrees, and then looks up to the dark sky. “You wish to feel something else than the pain of the absence of the people you’ve lost in this war, I understand… I think.”

His words make the feeling of emptiness, the hollowing ache of loss just worse, while at the same time, he seems to know the feeling of craving pain when you’re just so used to it. 

“This cold bite, the chill that lingers on the skin — no one should want to feel it, Princess. It makes even my bones shake, do you know that? Surely you must be shivering, and we should be getting you inside. I should be getting you inside.”

You know he‘s right. While his words are blunt in nature, they are very much that of truth. You shouldn’t be out here, nor should you want to be out here. There‘s nothing to enjoy about this cold chill and the snow, not when you‘re as sparsely dressed as you are. You‘re not yet used to the chill of Winterfell, of the North. 

Cregan offers you his hand, but you‘re still hesitant to take it. Albeit you reach out, your significantly smaller hand hovers over his, not yet grabbing it. “You‘re not exactly wearing proper attire to be out in this wretched cold for very long,“ he remarks. “Let me help you get up, your feet must be in agony by now.“

“And what if I don‘t want to?“

“Then I will still get you up.“ There is a tinge of amusement in his voice now, seeing this little bit of rebelliousness from you, your strength of mind. Even if he doesn’t exactly approve of it. “I shall simply pick you up myself, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you inside to your chambers, even though I‘d get you quite angry and don‘t imagine you want me to do just that.“

You don’t believe he actually has the gumption to do something like that at first, although you know he’s able to muster a decent amount of strength that would easily allow him to lift you up. But then, you wonder if he would truly do it if challenged. “Try that, if you dare, my lord.”

He lets out a snort of amusement, enjoying the teasing that slowly shapes between you two. It still is a challenge, and as a man of his station, he could never let words like this go unspoken. “Oh, I dare, Princess.” 

Putting forth his arm, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and easily pulls you forwards onto your feet without applying too much pressure. You’re certainly caught off guard by his actual willingness to lift you up, and a squeal escapes your lips before you’re tossed on his strong shoulder as if you are some silly, helpless girl. 

Cregan carries you through the Godswood and towards the Guest House, though you don’t resist too much as you’re hanging there over his shoulder – a part of you is grateful you don’t have to walk through the snow with your bare feet once more. 

“Lord Stark, put me down at once!” you demand with a little twinge of laughter in your voice. You feel so light, much lighter than you imagine he’s used to lifting up, almost as if it’s taken all of the pressure off your shoulders. 

But when there doesn’t come an answer from him, you grow slightly frustrated. “What if anyone sees, you madman!” you remark, embarrassment warming your cheeks. 

“Madman? That’s rich coming from the woman who was willing to freeze to death in the snow,” he says jokingly, approaching the large doors. “Who do you think could see us at this hour, princess? The rats? And what if they do? What if someone sees me carrying the poor princess, who had the gall to get out of her bed after midnight and wander the Godswood while in her nightgown?” Although there is amusement in his voice, you also notice the faintest hint of flirtation laced within. “Will they judge me for carrying her, or would they judge her for her imprudent midnight excursion?”

You stay silent thrown over his shoulder, not sure how to reply. You thought you had a good comeback, but it seems Cregan is one step ahead of you. The flirtatious teasing you’ve heard catches you off guard, not expecting to hear it from him at all. It makes your cheeks flush with even more embarrassment when you notice that he’s actually right. But you don’t want to admit the truth in what he’s said. 

“You mock me, but you shall see there would be much scandal if someone were to see this,” you retort, trying to keep calm as you’re now a little bit flustered by these sudden developments. “Besides,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and nonchalant, “who says I won’t tell a tale of you being the imprudent one?”

“Ah, you little rascal,” Cregan replies with a chuckle, giving your thigh a tight squeeze. “I see you’d find a way to turn the tides and have it end up with me being the bad guy, taking my chances on a vulnerable woman in the guise of protecting her.”

You’re clearly enjoying the teasing a tad too much, enjoying these quick and witty back-to-backs with him, taking your mind off of your grief. Drawing in a deep breath, you hold onto Cregan’s thick coat. “What would you have been protecting me from, Lord Stark?” you ask with feigned innocence. “Were the trees too menacing that you just had to sweep me off my feet to carry me away from their clutches?”

“No, I am afraid it was not the trees that had me worried, Princess,” Cregan replies as he brings you further into the Guest House, easily opening the door to the sleeping quarters with one hand. “The cold was the greater menace, and it had you in its grasp.”

Your words die in your throat when he puts you down on your bed, the soft furs very welcomed beneath your cold feet. You look up at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest as he towers over your significantly smaller frame, and you wait for him to make the next move. 

There’s a moment of silence between you, obviously he’s considering his next words. 

And boy do they disappoint you. “I shall make sure a fire is lit for you to warm yourself, princess,” he says, turning around to approach the hearth on the other side of the room. 

Cregan crouches down to build and start a small fire in the hearth that should last the night, not wanting you to stay too cold. But you wouldn’t be a thoroughbred dragon if it didn’t mean for you to take any risks. And so you get onto your cold feet, the coat still draped around your shoulders sliding down to the ground. 

Feeling a bit too exposed too quickly, you grab one of the thick fur blankets laying on your bed instead and wrap it around your frame, before you tiptoe towards the large wolf kneeling in front of the fireplace. 

“I have something different in mind,” you speak softly. Cregan, startled by your words and your sudden approach, turns around and faces you as he rises to his feet. You reach and bury your hands in the collar of his coat, the blanket falling to the ground in the process, and when you use your grip to pull him close, you find that he does not shy away in the least – if anything, he follows the tug to connect your lips in a heated kiss. 

He brings his large hands to your waist with ease, and presses his body against yours. The wolf feels like he’s drowning in you, in your lips, your warmth, your presence and scent. Wanting to lose himself in the moment, in you, his hands wander lower to your hips. 

“I did not expect you to do this tonight,” he breathes against your lips, breaking the silence. 

“And I did not expect some things from you tonight either,” you reply, breathlessly, voice breaking with every breath you take. “Is that a bad thing?”

His voice is low and smooth as he speaks, shaking his head. “Quite the contrary.” There is a flirtatious smile on his lips, and a playfulness you haven’t seen before in his gray eyes. It’s as if that small spark between you has quickly evolved into an inferno that now burns bright in the both of you. 

It’s a fierce and burning kiss when your lips connect once more, fueled by the fires coursing through your veins. You release a soft whimper with his large paws trailing over your sides, feeling the fabric of your nightgown. 

“If we continue this, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he rasps.

You tilt your head back to look at him, a cheeky grin on your lips. “Perhaps I do not want you to.”

Cregan’s eyebrows raise at your reply, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist once more. He can’t help but feel a jolt of arousal run down his back, which prompts him to release a low chuckle. “Well, if you wish for it that much…” he whispers in response, before pulling you back toward him, kissing you passionately. 

A breathless chuckle slips past your lips as you pull back from him, licking your kiss swollen lips. “But there are a few things we need to get you out of first,” you tease, tugging at the thick, furry coat that’s draped over his broad shoulders. 

“Are you this eager to have your hands over all of me?” he replies with a flirtatious smirk, but still unclips the coat and lets it fall to the ground. He doesn’t mind you seeming quite intent to get him out of his armor, allowing you to fumble with the clasps and buckles, and eventually helps you remove the heavy bits until he’s left wearing nothing but his breeches. But even those are quickly unlaced by you, left to be a puddle around his feet. 

“My my, do you not feel a little too hot still, Lord Stark?” you tease, letting your fingers wander over his exposed stomach. You can’t help but feel warmth creeping onto your cheeks as you see him in such little clothing, so exposed. He’s a muscular man, tall and large, and the sight of his bare skin with the dark of hair on his chest and a trail of it running below his undergarments is a welcoming one. 

Through the linen you see that he’s already hard and begging, waiting for you to take things further. Truly a shame you seem to relish in the teasing. 

Goosebumps prickle on his skin in the wake of your finger, making you smile. You drag your finger along the waistband of his undergarments, hooking it beneath to tug on it. He knows what you desire, and he’s not ashamed to give you just that. “I do not see you so eager to remove your own clothes, Princess,” he teases, undoing the laces in the front for his undergarments to join his breeches. “It is hardly fair you want to see all of me, yet I am not allowed to do the same.”

You take in a sharp breath at the sight of his hard cock, standing to full attention. It has you licking your lips. Batting your eyelashes at him, you’re quick to pull your nightgown over your head, a smirk on your lips. A flimsy piece of linen conceals what lies between your legs, but it’s still enough for him to all but devour your almost bare frame. 

“There,” you whisper, “now we are on equal grounds.”

Cregan takes a moment to look over you, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts fully exposed mto him. He knows you’re no maiden who’s completely untouched, you wouldn’t be as confident if you were, but it doesn’t stop him from appreciating the sight in front of him. 

“Equal grounds, truly?” he asks you, taking a step toward you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him, as his other hand fists the linen of your smallclothes. “I think you still have an advantage over me, Princess. Because I have yet to see what lies beneath your undergarments.”

Your palms rest flatly against his chest, and you press a chaste kiss to his skin. “I will not stop you, Lord Stark,” you whisper, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

“Then let’s make these ‘equal grounds’ a little bit more equal, hm?” Cregan whispers as well. He sinks to his knees with his mouth trailing a path down your body, licking and kissing over your skin until he reaches your navel. His large hands trail over your sides and thighs on his way down, the movement and sight making your breath hitch in your throat. 

A shudder ripples through your body as he tugs your smallclothes down your legs, and while you watch him with your hands buried in his dark curls, his eyes are all but focused on what’s between your legs. 

He drapes one of your legs over his broad shoulder, his dark blown eyes darting up to meet yours, and before you can make any teasing remark, his mouth is on you. A gasp catches in your throat. “Cregan, please,” you whimper, forgetting all courtesies the moment his tongue drags through your slit. There’s no softness, no gentleness in the way he all but devours your cunt, the previous teasing having made his patience run thin. 

Your head tips back in pleasure as his tongue alternates between sliding into you and swirling around your pearl, noticing both options have you grind your hips against his face. The tip of his nose rubs so perfectly against your pearl when his mouth pays attention to your entrance, and Cregan’s fingers dig into your flesh with your body tensing up already, keeping you steady. 

The Wolf of the North growls against your cunt as if he’s truly turned into one, devouring you with all he’s got, the sheer pleasure brought by his tongue and lips taking over you. 

As you look down at him again, you find him already staring up at you, watching you carefully as you slowly but surely unravel on his tongue. It’s intense, but you’re captivated enough not to break eye contact. 

“Gods, yes, I–” you whimper, and fall apart all over his tongue with a shudder. If it wasn’t for Cregan’s paws on your body, you would have lost balance by now, especially with the way he seemed to work his tongue in and out of you faster just in rhythm to his nose rubbing your pearl. 

He pulls away from you slowly as your peak subsides, and with his beard and lips glistening with the remnants of your arousal, how could you not pounce on him right then and there?

He supports his body with one arm placed on the ground and stretches his legs as you push yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his strong neck. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan against his lips before you deepen the kiss. 

Cregan’s hard cock is nestled between your bodies, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around it, stroking him once, twice, before you shift your hips and slowly sink down on him. 

Muscular arms completely wrap around your waist, making you very well aware of the size difference between the two of you. You’re significantly smaller than him, and relish in the feeling of being safe and protected with him around. You two haven’t been too close upon your arrival in the North, but it seems that there has been a hidden attraction lingering for quite some time. 

You know your hips would sooner or later become sore from pumping him with your core, hence you stick to rocking your hips back and forth with his cock stuffed deep inside you. It’s intimate and slow, but with the coarse hairs around the base of his cock dragging over your pearl with each swivel of your hips, you’re still racing for completion. 

While he mouths along your jaw and the curve of your throat, one of his hands comes up to cup your breast. Rolling the perky bud between his index finger and thumb, the slight sting works wonders to amplify the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“By the Seven,” you whimper, grinding your hips against him with more determination. 

There comes a sharp hiss in return from him, barely audible between the open mouthed kisses he presses to your collar bones. You’re clawing at his shoulders and neck by now, scratching it despite the sensuality of your movements, and it feels as though you’re even drawing blood. But he doesn’t care about that – he rather enjoys having a woman that doesn’t hold back. 

Trailing his lips up to your throat, he nudges your chin with his nose, prompting you to tip your head back. “It’s not them you need to pray to right now, Princess,” Cregan rasps, a clear strain to his voice. “But perhaps I should take that as a compliment, hm?”

His words cause you to chuckle, and you’re grateful that he’s quickly distracted by kissing your throat again, because otherwise he might have noticed the heat his words bring to your cheeks. “If that is…” you trail off panting, burying your hand in his curls to tug his head back, forcing him to look up at you. The sight of his dark blown eyes hungrily gazing at you sends a shiver down your spine. You feel desired. “If that is a compliment, then I shall have to say it much more often.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact you state wanting to compliment him more often, or if he’s just not used to having an appreciative lover in general, but your words seem to flip a switch inside of him. You quickly find yourself lowered on the fur blankets, warming your back while the flames heat up your skin and Cregan your blood. 

Nestled between your legs, he’s growing more determined now, the sensual rocking of your hips clearly not enough for him, but you don’t mind it. As much as you enjoy being in control, setting the tone, you also revel in following the lead. 

He’s propped up on one elbow, supporting himself as he thrusts into you, rolling his hips that make his cock drag so expertly against the sweet spot inside of you. 

With one hand, you hold onto his broad shoulder, digging your nails into his skin, while the other gropes at his chest, teasing his bud just like he’s done with yours before. The feeling of his coarse hairs beneath your fingers feels somewhat strange at first, for Aemond hasn’t had as much chest hair as Cregan does, but it’s also comforting. 

The familiar coil in the pit of your belly tightens slowly with his hips snapping into yours over and over again, split open by his hard cock.  

“Will you fill me up, my lord?” you moan breathily, arching your back with your breasts pressing against his sturdy frame. 

Cregan releases a choked groan at the question, and for a moment you can feel his hips stutter. You briefly wonder if you’ve pushed your luck too far, especially with him not replying immediately, until his raspy voice cuts through the heavy pants and moans. 

“Only if you let me take you to wife, Princess.” 

You inevitably clench down around him as a small, hiccuped gasp catches in your throat, resulting in Cregan drawing in a sharp breath. The haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s now giving back to you. And you let it flood you. 

Your hand comes from his chest to his biceps, holding onto it as you gather your thoughts. His hips haven’t slowed down one bit, and he’s truly expecting you to answer as if he wasn’t repeatedly impaling you on his cock right now. 

Staring up at him with wide eyes, your voice isn’t any louder than a whisper. “It would be foolish of me to turn this offer down,” you reply.

An impish smirk dances along Cregan’s features. “Is that meant to be a yes?”

“Y-Yes, it is, “ you whimper beneath him, arching your back once more. 

The warmth of his body, his weight and scent cloud your every being, and his thrusts are determined and harsh enough to render you speechless, your mind and body completely claimed by him. 

His hand snakes between your bodies, aiming for your sensitive pearl. Though the coarse hair around his cock has granted you at least a bit of friction, it’s not enough to bring you to your peak. His thumb circles over the little bud, fully coated with your arousal, and the thread in your belly is close to snapping. 

“Then I just might,” he grunts in return. 

Your body jerks at the sudden touch, but his muscular frame between your legs is enough to keep you pinned to the ground. “I need you… Cregan,” you whimper, bringing a hand behind his head to pull him down for a heated kiss. Your lips hardly part to release whimpers and moans, swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure without any shame. “Let me give you a spare.”

It appears that your words give him a new-found vigor that leaves you gasping, the pace of his hips increasing. As you start to roll your hips against his thumb, you not only create some friction that feeds your pleasure but his as well. It’s not long after that your peak washes over you with a soft gasp, walls clenching around him like a vice. 

With your small frame trembling between his strong arms, Cregan releases a strained grunt, his own peak being milked out of him by your cunt fluttering around his cock. He keeps on dragging his thumb over your sensitive pearl, prolonging your peak and the pleasure that comes with it.

You stare up at him with wide eyes as you’re milking him for every drop, because there’s something so vulnerable in this wolf of a man, towering over you with his skin glistening with sweat, so desperate to fill you with his seed and breed you. 

The last jolts of his peak force him to languidly rut his hips into yours, desperately chasing the feeling of bliss that courses through your veins. His chest heaves with every heavy breath he takes, and the dark curls are damp and fall into his face. 

Only as Cregan is certain there’s not one drop of his seed left inside of him does he slowly stop his ministrations, and the hand that has toyed with your bud seizes your hips, stilling them.

His erratic breaths fans over your sweaty skin with his lips pressing to your temple. The feeling of being whole with him doesn’t leave you, not when his weight pins you down and keeps you grounded, easing your tumbled mind.  

“I shall welcome the arrival of any child you bear me,” Cregan says, inevitably breaking the silence. 

A smile spreads across your lips as you wrap your legs around his hips, and your arms around his neck. “Be careful what you wish for. My children will certainly be just as stubborn as me.”

His heart is practically pounding against his ribs, and he can feel himself on the verge of being lost by your touch alone again. You make him go wild and feral, your bold and flirtatious nature bringing out another side to him that’s completely unexpected. And yet it feels so right.  

The teasing banter brings a smile to his lips and a light to his gray eyes, your wit and humor shining through. “Let them be stubborn, then,” he chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “They only need to be half as feisty as you, and I shall be the happiest man in Winterfell.”

[aurorawritestoescape]

SWEET CHERRY || Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,8k

Summary: Joel takes your virginity. Gently, slowly, talking you through it.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, pwp, big not specified legal age gap, virginity loss, insecure reader, soft!Joel, soft!dom vibes, praise kink, size kink, mirror sex, f/m oral, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, aftercare. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description.

A/n: here’s my first virginity loss fic, friends! Hope you will like it❤️ Joel whispers ‘thank you’ into @milla-frenchy ‘s ear for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

MASTERLIST

Joel is waiting for you in his truck, parked a block away from your house. He told you once that you didn’t want anyone to see you with an old man like himself. You kissed his scruffy cheek that time and assured him that he wasn’t old. Yes, he was older than you, much much older but you were an adult, very mature for your age and also you didn’t care. You loved him.

Joel is a real man, not like the silly boys who always try to pick you up. He looks like a real man, with gray patches in his stubble, his tired piercing eyes and wrinkles around them that you love to kiss so much. His body, big and broad, can easily envelop you whole like a warm cloud. The cloud usually smells like cigarettes and whiskey but you tell yourself, "he smells like a real man," and when you nuzzle his neck, that scent alone makes you soak your panties.

You hop into his truck with the happiest smile on your face, excitement and nerves swirling in your stomach. You’re wearing a red lacy set to show him how mature you are underneath his favorite dress, white with little red cherries on it. Joel always compliments you when you wear it and makes sure to kiss every single cherry on your chest.

Today is the day Joel is going to pop your cherry. You’re going to lose your virginity to the love of your life.

Joel greets you with a soft kiss, and while you’re a little hazy from his taste in your mouth, he starts the car.

“Where are we going?” you ask but you don’t really care. You’d go anywhere with him.

“A motel, baby. Only the best for ya.”

You almost squeal at the idea of you two having a whole room to yourselves. You usually spend time in his truck or he drives you to the outskirts of the town, far from the prying eyes. You love it there— lying on the soft grass and stargazing with his strong arms wrapped around you.

Joel is a man and men have needs so you give him a handie now and then but he never makes you do anything you don’t want to. He’s a gentleman.

He’s getting a room while you’re waiting for him outside of the reception, nervously pacing a spot at the parking lot. What if you fuck up and he sees that you’re just a silly girl, too young for him? What if it hurts too much? You’ve practiced with a toy but you know he’s much bigger.

You’re chewing on your lower lip, widened eyes glued to the ground, and miss the moment when Joel comes up to you.

"Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?" he cups your cheek, searching for your eyes, and you smile, enjoying the warmth of his giant palm in spite of the Texas sun, beating down on you both.

"Just a little nervous," you admit, looking up at his handsome face. Joel gives you an understanding smile and his gruff voice immediately calms you down when he says,

"Don't be, darlin’. I'll be gentle with you. And we can stop whenever you want."

“‘k,” you mumble with a nod and take a deep breath. You want it and you know, it will be perfect.

The motel room smells like cigarette smoke and old furniture but you don’t mind. You don’t care about its peeling off wallpaper, the flickering lights in the bathroom or the stained bedding with a pattern that looks like spider webs. You’re staring at it with disgust on your face, wondering who would choose such an ugly cover.

Two big hands on your hips bring you back from your thoughts and move you around. Joel locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing and curious.

“You’re so quiet today, babygirl. Sure you wanna do this?”

“Yes, Joel. Please,” you reply hastily, scared he’ll change his mind.

He gives you a little smile and pinches your chin between his thick fingers. His touch, his scent, his gaze, everything about him washes away your fears and worries. He’s huge and safe and you trust him to make this day special. For the both of you.

He leans down and kisses you, his lips warm and slightly chafed, his stubble and scruffy beard rubbing your sensitive skin but you’re enjoying him too much to notice. Like a little flower you are reaching up to your only sun - him. You’re drunk on the sensation of his tongue, licking assertively into your moaning mouth. Your pussy tingles and you feel yourself gush more and more. With Joel’s lips brushing the corner of your mouth you hear him whisper, “Ready, sweetheart?”

You nod, rubbing your cheek against his and then follow him to the bed, your little hand in his, giant, warm.

Joel sits down and you stand between his spread thighs. You nervously shift on your feet under his dark gaze as he looks you up and down and bucks his hips. His bulge is huge and you swallow loudly.

“Can I take your dress off, babygirl?”

With a quiet ‘yes’ you turn around so he could unzip you. You’re facing a mirror now, hanging on a wardrobe door, eyes locked with your reflection. Fear and anxiety paint your features so you take a deep breath again, not wanting to look like a scared little mouse. You want him to see you ready for what you two are about to do.

You giggle when Joel’s knuckles graze your soft skin, tickling you, gliding down along your back as your body erupts in goosebumps. Joel acknowledges your reaction with a soft chuckle and then his warm lips press to your exposed waist. You smile, helping him take your dress off.

“Fuck,” Joel mumbles as you turn around to face him, “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he apologises for the cursing as his obsidian eyes are gliding over your body, wrapped in the red lace as if you’re a present gifted to him. “You’re making my head spin. Are ya wearin’ it for me, baby?”

You reply with a shy ‘yes’ and he groans, palming himself.

“Naughty girl. Killing me over here,” he fake complains, wetting his lower lip.

His lustful gaze, barely noticeable shaking of his gruff voice, his bulge growing in his jeans— all the signs of his desire make your heart sing and core burn with need.

“Please, Joel.” You press your thighs together, desperate for any pressure, and he nods,

“Yes, babygirl, I know, I know. Let’s make you feel good.”

His palms placed on your hips turn you around, so you’d face the mirror again, and he pulls you down on his lap. You bite your lip, when his stiffness twitches under your left asscheek, and take a sharp breath, being reminded of how huge his cock is. Will you be able to take him?

As if reading your mind, Joel rasps against your shoulder,

“I’m big, honey, but ain’t nothing to worry about. We gonna get ya ready, yeah?”

“Yes, Joel, I trust you.”

“‘s good, babygirl. Jus’ relax and let me do the work.”

You whimper, imagining ‘the work’ he’s about to do. With a hum Joel places his hands on your inner thighs and spreads them apart. You lift your head from his hands to the reflection of you two in the mirror. You’re sitting on his lap, so small in comparison with his huge frame. He’s nuzzling the crease of your neck, and your nipples perk up under the thin fabric of your bra. His scent, his body make your pussy melt into your panties and your fear you’re going to soak them through and stain his jeans.

Your gasp breaks the silence in the room when you see and feel his hand slither to the apex of your thighs. With one arm wrapped around your waist, Joel cups your clothed pussy with the other hand and you breathe out his name.

“Yes, sweetheart, I’m right here. Fuck, ya soaked.” He gently sucks on your neck, stroking your seam with his thumb through a red lace, covering your pussy. You mewl and wriggle in his lap impatiently and he growls, when his cock twitches under your ass.

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby.”

His thumb slides under your panties and he pulls the gusset to the side exposing your wet folds to his and your eyes in the mirror.

He’s never gone that far, never seen you like this and your whole body vibrates with a heady mix of excitement and nerves. Your cheeks burn as embarrassment adds to all the emotions that are swirling in your stomach. You’ve never been that exposed for anyone, no one has ever witnessed your wet desire, coating your folds. As if sensing your discomfort Joel starts whispering words of reassurance in your ear, his gaze set on your glistening cunt in the mirror.

“Look at this pretty pussy, fuck, she’s beautiful. You’re beautiful, sweetheart.”

You whine, trying to close your legs but he stops you, his hand pressing on your inner thigh, rubbing your skin there.

“She’s crying for me, see? My cock’s cryin’ for her too. And I’ll make her feel good, baby. Gonna make her drool even more.”

You nod, fluttering your eyes shut at the sensations of his thick fingers grazing your hardening clit just barely. Suddenly Joel slightly bites on your earlobe and rasps,

“Open your eyes, babygirl. Want you to see how I’m gonna make you come.”

You do what he says and see the hand rise up from your belly to your chest and he pulls your bra down, exposing your breasts. He groans at the sight of your pebbled nipples and kneads your tit with his warm palm.

The other hand returns to your soft pussy and he starts stroking your twitching clit with his thumb.

He’s playing you like his guitar, making you sing for him with a calloused pad of his finger, brushing over your bud up and down, up and down, like it’s a string of his favorite instrument, at the same time twitching your nipples. His movements are slow and gentle but precise and determined, and you’re reduced to a moaning crying mess in a matter of seconds.

“Please, please, please— ,” you’re begging, barely breathing, lips brushing his scruffy cheek. You can’t watch him and you in the mirror anymore, it’s too much for your mind, for your eyes. You try to pace yourself, nuzzling his face.

“Yes, baby, I’ll make you come, soon. So soon,” he replies to your pleas as his tongue licks your lower lip and you open your mouth, letting him in. He’s kissing you passionately as he shifts his hand a little, making his fingers cover your sopping hole while his thumb is playing with your clit.

Joel traces your entrance with his middle finger and then slowly pushes it in. You gasp at the sensation and your walls clench hard around it, as he’s inserting it to the knuckle.

“Already warm and wet. Good girl.”

You dare to glance in the mirror and you see him plunge his digit in and out of your tight weeping hole, slowly, with a steady rhythm.

“Have ya been practicing like I asked you, babygirl?”

“Yes,” you reply with your brows pulled together and mouth slightly opened.

“Yeah, I see that,” he smiles into your cheek, “ya taking me well. We can add another one.”

As soon as he says it, his index finger joins the middle one in your slicked up channel and you feel the stretch, though it burns just a little, and you smile with relief.

Joel continues fingering you, and, to your horror, you hear squelching sounds, coming from your pussy. The pleasure is growing but you mewl with embarrassment, “Oh, no.”

Joel’s quick to comfort you, whispering in your ear,

“‘s a great sound, babygirl. Means she’s ready for me. All this juice gonna help me slide right inside ya.”

You nod and tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as his movements take you higher with every pump. Everything disappears, what’s left is only you and him, his fingers in your pussy, his broad chest at your back, his thick cock pulsating under your ass. You're so gone with ecstasy, that you don’t notice the third finger inserted into your widening hole.

“Gonna make you come now, sweetheart,” Joel gruffs and curves his fingers. He starts shaking his hand, not moving his digits in and out but keeping them hooked into your pussy, making vibrations with his hand. He’s hitting your clit with the heel of his palm and soon you unravel, crying and shaking so hard he has to keep you on his lap, holding you with his strong arm wrapped around your torso. Your face is twisted in euphoria but you don’t see it, your surroundings morph into a burst of fireworks behind your eyelids. Of course you had good orgasms before but never such a hard one.

Joel hums with satisfaction, kissing your temple, your cheek, your half opened lips, mumbling,

“That’s my girl… yeah, c’mon… god, she’s squeezing me hard… perfect little pussy.”

He’s embracing you tight through the aftershocks and when you finally still, he cups your sloppy cunt and holds it, keeping it warm as his whole body slightly sways from side to side. The motion is lulling you to sleep. Pleasant tingling in your body, his arms, which are giving you comfort, his heart, beating with a steady rhythm against your back, all of it makes your eyes close and you fall into darkness.

Joel wakes you up with a kiss on your lips as if you’re his Sleeping Beauty. You’re lying on the motel bed and your Prince Charming’s hard cock is poking your thigh. Joel got undressed while you were out and as you sit up, rubbing your eyes, you can’t help but ogle his tan chest with dark hair, gray patches here and there, his broad shoulders, his soft belly and a gorgeous cock. It’s long and thick and your pussy clenches with a mixture of fear and arousal. His red wet tip makes you want to wrap your lips around it but you’re too shy to ask.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you mumble. “How long was I asleep?”

“Don’t worry. Just a few minutes. And my eyes are over here,” Joel says with a chuckle and you realize that you’ve been talking to his cock the whole time. You smile, raising your eyes to his, feeling your cheeks heat up and he rubs your shoulder,

“‘s ok, sweetie. You can look.”

He brings his hand to his bobbing member and gives it a few pumps. You see a clear drop of precum bead and involuntarily lick your lips.

He notices it and smirks, “oh, baby.”

You get bold and ask with your eyes only, they dart from his cock to his eyes.

“Yes, baby, you can play with it a little. But not too long. ‘m afraid I’ll come too soon like that and we need to put it in your needy pussy first, yeah?”

You nod and hastily sit on your hinges, getting comfortable. You hover your mouth over his glistening mushroom and then wrap your lips around it. Your tongue gently dances over the slit as you drink his salty juice. The taste sends a new surge of arousal to your entrance and you shift on your knees, feeling wetness pool between your folds and thighs. Like a shark feeling blood, Joel brings his hand to your ass and glides his palm over the globes of your cheeks and then slides his hand between your messy folds. You push your hips back, rubbing yourself against his palm and at the same time taking him further into your mouth, licking the underside sloppily, drooling over his stiffness.

“Oh, fuck, hnggg,” you hear Joel’s groan and then he slightly slaps your folds, getting your attention.

“Easy, baby, or I’m gonna feed ya all of my cum. And we want it here today,” he gives your pussy another light slap from the back and you moan, pulling away from his cock.

The next second he sits up and hastily says,

“I want one more orgasm from you. And we’ll be good to go.”

His hands gently push you to lie down and he helps to slide your bra and panties off. You take a sharp breath when the air of the room hits your soaked folds, your pussy getting completely exposed to him.

“Look at you,” Joel’s dark gaze is taking in your naked breasts, a heaving belly, and a puffy cunt, dripping for him onto the sheets.

He brings his calloused palm to your throat and slowly glides it down, barely touching your chest, grazes your perked up nipples, then moves down to your stomach and the mound and then slithers between your thighs. He cups your pussy again and you whimper when he places his index and middle finger on your folds and presses your clit between them with his thick digits. He starts rubbing it over your pussy lips, moving his hand up and down, and you moan. Your eyes roll back as you concentrate on another orgasm building but soon they open wide when you feel his mouth on your folds and clit.

He flicks the peeking out bud with his tongue and sucks on it. Then he pulls his fingers away, gets comfortable between your thighs and starts licking you in earnest, rubbing your clit with the flat of his wet hot tongue. You clutch his graying curls with your fingers and hold on to him, afraid to float away, because of the immense pleasure he’s giving you.

“Ahh, Joel— please— so good— oh my god,” a string of moans and pleas is leaving your mouth, but he slaps the side of your ass and growls into your throbbing cunt,

“Wanna come? Take it from me, babygirl, c’mon.” With that he opens his mouth with his tongue sticking out and starts moving your hips up and down, as your pussy is grinding against his strong muscle. Then his hands leave you and you whine.

“I said, use me. Use my mouth, babygirl,” Joel commands and, desperate for another release, you swiftly follow his order and begin moving your hips up and down, making your dripping cunt roll against his tongue, lips, mustache and scruffy chin, chasing your high, feverishly.

A content smile tugs at his slicked up lips when he sees you take control, using him for your pleasure, and he hums with satisfaction when soon you are wriggling on the bed, moaning loudly, as waves of euphoria ripple through your body. You almost sob from the intensity, not able to believe how hard you come with him, as if everything before was bleak and dull and now you finally see the colors around you.

“Joel,” you murmur, your voice is barely audible, and he climbs up your body before taking you in his big strong arms. He’s hot and big against you, all around you, and you nuzzle his hairy chest for a few seconds, catching your breath and resting.

He mumbles his praise against your temple, “my good girl—did so good—came so hard for me.”

You smile and weakly raise your face to his,

“Am I ready, Joel? I want—.”

“Yes, baby? What do you want?”

“You know.”

He pinches your chin between his fingers, keeping your eyes locked with his.

“Wanna hear you say it? Need you to say it.”

“I want you inside me?”

“Are you asking?” he breathes out a chuckle.

“No, Joel. I want you to fuck me.”

“Jesus, babygirl. Ok.”

His face gets serious and he moves to the top of the bed with you in his arms and leans against the headboard. You try to slide off him but he manhandles you to straddle his thighs.

“Jus’ sit in my lap like that,” he gruffs, pressing his chest to yours. You look down and see his cock, nesting between your bodies. The tip smears precum on your belly and you whine with desire.

“It’s so big, Joel. What if I can’t take it?”

“You can. I stretched your pussy good. And we’ll stop if it hurts, ‘k?”

You nod and lightly roll your hips against his hard cock and heavy balls under your entrance.

“Hngg, stop it, little minx. You’ll make me spill the goods too early.”

You give him a mischievous smile and then peck his lips to apologize for your naughtiness but he doesn’t let you pull away and holds you tight, his tongue breaching your lips and stealing your kiss with hunger and love. So much love that you drown in it, in the feeling of his body, his hot skin pressed to yours, his mighty manhood throbbing just for you.

Not breaking the kiss, Joel lifts your body up with his arm around your waist and his hand guides his fat cock to your entrance. Soon you feel his tip nudge your wet hole and he slowly lowers you, spreading your folds with his fat head.

“Hnggg,” Joel roars and his chest vibrates against your squished up breasts. You take a sharp breath as his tip is filling you. A thought flashes in your mind, “it’s not that bad, I can take him,” but he keeps going and soon you’re whining, as your walls spread, your pussy trying to adjust to his girth and you start panting against his lips.

“Joel, it hurts,” you mewl and he stops spearing you with his cock.

“Shhh… you’re doin’ so good, babygirl. Jus’ need to go a little deeper.”

He kisses your lips, you both breathing heavily, as you are trying to fight the dull pain, licking at your core, and Joel is gathering all his strength to keep himself from plunging his cock as deep as possible.

“Fuck, ya tight. Never felt anything like this sweet cunt, baby,” he groans through gritted teeth, “Shoulda done it earlier. Coulda been balls deep in you every day by now.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whimper at his filthy words but the fire burning your insides is slowly morphing into pleasure, as he begins fucking up into you, getting deeper inch by inch. Your nails dig into his biceps, the sensation so overwhelming you’re afraid you might faint. Joel’s lips brush your cheek as he mumbles through the panting,

“Can you— hnggg, sit on my cock, sweetie, don’t wanna hurt ya, c’mon,” he grunts as his hands roam your body, sliding to your ass as he spreads your cheeks and you feel the air cooling your soaked folds and holes.

“Yeah, ok, I’ll try.”

You’d do anything for him right now. In need of his support, you take his face between your sweaty palms and search for his hazy eyes. Your thumbs rub his scruffy cheeks as you’re getting lost in his dark lustful eyes and, knowing that your pussy is close to swallowing his cock fully, you take a final step. You lower your body, piercing your crying cunt with his manhood. His big balls twitch, flush with your ass, and you gasp at the fullness you’re experiencing. You both moan loudly before Joel’s mouth crushes against yours and he’s drinking your whimpers, returning them with his own grunts.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby, you’re perfect for my cock,” Joel is praising you but the adrenaline coursing in your veins pulls you down into the pits of euphoria and you barely hear him. Your gaze falls to the place where you two are joined, your folds spread widely around his glistening base, surrounded by dark wet hair, and the sight, the sensation make you bite your lower lip till you taste metal on your tongue. You flutter your eyes shut but Joel calls for you,

“Baby, come back to me.”

You look at his face twisted in pleasure as he grunts, “Gonna fuck you now, darlin’. Can’t wait anymore.”

You nod and his hands slither under your ass before he starts moving you up and down his cock, your tight cunt massaging it. His strong arms lift you so easily, his muscles bulging as you’re holding on to them.

Joel’s forehead is covered in sweat, some of his curls sticking to it, as he’s groaning and swearing, pushing his member into you again and again.

You softly mewl with every kisshis tip is giving to your cervix, and you revel in the pleasure when he reaches something hidden and ecstatic inside your core.

“Gonna come, Joel!” you almost cry out, as he is taking you higher.

“Not yet, babygirl. Want you to fuck yourself on my cock. Ride me.”

“How? I— I don’t know if I can,” you breathe out, your eyebrows pulled together, as your gaze darts between his eyes.

“Jus’ bounce on it, like that.” Joel grabs your hips with his bear hands and shows you how to do it, guiding you. You follow his movements and soon you’re lifting and lowering your hips, pussy sliding up and down his huge manhood, as Joel leans back on the headboard and watches you work his cock, his eyes hazy but fully focused on you.

To steady yourself you brace your hands on his broad chest and scratch his skin with your nails, when your pussy starts clamping around a man’s cock for the first time in your life. You sob through moans, as euphoria is shaking your body and Joel’s hands keep you from falling off him, when you’re trembling hard in his lap.

“Yes, yes—I’m here, baby—I gotch ya—ahhh, keep squeezing my cock— your little cunt is drooling all over me— shit, gonna come—“ he chokes on his words and you suddenly feel warmth spread inside your contracting pussy. It’s such a great sensation when he fills up your already full cunt and you don’t stop jumping on his cock, churning his warm load deep inside you, squelching sounds mixing with Joel’s grunts and your whimpers.

Your juices and his cum soon cover your folds and asscheeks and his thighs get cold and slippery, coated with your joined liquids. You feel filthy and it turns you on so much, that it makes your head spin.

“Joel, hold me, please,” you beg, lowering your torso on his heaving chest and he squirts the last ropes of his cum inside you, his big arms wrapped around your heated up body.

You both descend from your highs, holding each other close, his chest making your whole body rise and fall, his lips pressed to the top of your head.

You’re quiet, completely spent, your limbs tingling as you’re focused on the sensation of your body — a twitch of his cock still buried deep in your cunt, your pussy slightly sore clutching his softening manhood, his skin hot against yours, his warm hands gliding over your back.

“My good girl. So brave. Took me so well.”

You smile at his praise, sighing happily, trying to memorize this moment forever.

“How are you feelin’? You hurtin’?” Joel asks.

“No,” you softly reply, “a little sore but it’s ok.”

“Good. Good,” Joel coos, “Let’s clean you up.”

You nod and he carefully lifts you off his lap, as his cock slides out of your stretched hole, and a trickle of his creamy cum tickles your folds. He lays you down on the bed and gets up with a grunt to get you a wet towel.

When he’s back, you want to take it from him but he shakes his head and cleans you up himself, his movements slow and gentle. His hands wrapped in the soft fabric glide over your skin, attentive to how oversensitive you are.

You watch him take care of you, hearts in your eyes, and you almost physically sense love expand in your chest. Joel’s taking more and more space inside you with every moment your gaze is set on him, every second you breathe. A thought creeps up in your mind, “what if he leaves me? What if this magic that happened between us never repeats?” Tears well up in your eyes as fear grips your heart. But you blink them away hurriedly, scared to worry him. Today is perfect and you want it to stay this way.

You reach your arms to Joel and he joins you on the bed, embracing you in his strong arms. You raise your face to his and he kisses you, wiping away your fears with every caress of his lips.

“Thank you, babygirl. For giving yourself to me. My perfect girl,” he mumbles against your lips.

You hug him as tight as you can, and not believing how lucky you’re, you whisper, nuzzling his neck, “Thank you for making my first time perfect, Joel.”

Soon you fall asleep in his arms, wishing to be with him forever.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback motivates me so much!😘💕

Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @fruityreads

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

[onlyswan]

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

PAIRING: JACKSON!JOEL MILLER X FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 1.5k

SUMMARY | Nowadays, he’s got the look of a man who’s discovered safety after survival, more life in his face, more weight on his bones. His hair has grown out, curling around his neck and more prominent streaks of gray at his temples and in his beard. This thing between the two of you remains undefined, comes and goes like waves crashing on a shore, but you’ll take what you can get because you’ve never been good about avoiding temptation.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | One glimpse of Pedro as Joel in the new season has turned me into a woman possessed. Thank you @undrthelights and @janaispunk for giving this a read for me 💕

ways to help palestine

WARNINGS | explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, porn without plot, mild angst, able bodied reader, no physical reader descriptions or age mentioned, jackson era, mentions of joel's weight (in the context of looking healthier in jackson), emotionally constipated joel, dirty talk, praise, pet names, kitchen sex, oral sex - f receiving (while standing), unprotected p in v, limited aftercare. let me know if i’ve missed any!

A noise breaks through your dreams, a loud banging that startles you from sleep and leaves you blinking at the ceiling. Thoughts still fuzzy, you stumble down the stairs and through your kitchen to the back door that rattles in its frame with each pound of a fist against it. You glance at the neon red numbers of the stove clock and at this hour, there can only be one culprit.

“Joel, what the fuck,” you groan, opening the door. “It’s two in the morning, what is wrong with you?” He doesn’t answer, simply shoulders past you and into your house. “Oh, sure come on in, make yourself—“

Your sarcastic remark is abruptly cut off by his lips crashing against yours, mouth hot and hungry as he skips any semblance of pleasantry and dives straight into carnal desire. His teeth graze your lip, the sting soothed by his tongue before it tangles with yours. Your fingers curl into his jacket sleeves, hanging on for dear life as he backs you into a wall, the two of you hitting one with a dull thump that disturbs the picture frames.

He shoves a knee between your thighs and pins you to the plaster, every sense invaded by him as he continues to consume you. When his mouth leaves yours and begins to leave hot kisses like brands across your neck, you finally find your voice again.

“Joel, what—“

“Shut up,” he grunts. You’re taken aback by the command and you have half a mind to smack him across the head for it, but he’s got his teeth on your earlobe and he adds, “I just, I need this, okay? Please?”

The fight leaves you in one fell swoop because you’d do anything for Joel if he just asks nicely. You nod and he returns to his task of turning you into a puddle with a single minded determination. When you start to rock your hips against his denim clad thigh in a desperate bid for friction, you feel, rather than see, the grin on his face.

“Mm, just as needy for me, ain’t you?” He teases. You frown.

“Don’t push your luck, Miller,” you snap. He laughs, a deep rumble that reminds you of the thunderstorms in the spring. “I can still kick you out of my house.”

“You won’t.” Confident, cocky, a man who knows he has you in the palm of his ridiculously skilled hands. “If you’d been smart, you would have kicked me out the first time. Now I’m just like a stray dog, ain’t gettin’ rid of me now.”

The first time, when he showed up in Jackson with a chip on his shoulder and a frown on his face. His hair had been shorter, his frame a bit smaller, his eyes a lot more vacant. He walked you home one night from the Tipsy Bison and when he kissed you under the glow of your porch light, his mouth tasted like whiskey, not unlike it does tonight.

Nowadays, he’s got the look of a man who’s discovered safety after survival, more life in his face, more weight on his bones. His hair has grown out, curling around his neck and more prominent streaks of gray at his temples and in his beard. This thing between the two of you remains undefined, comes and goes like waves crashing on a shore, but you’ll take what you can get because you’ve never been good about avoiding temptation.

While your thoughts drifted to the past, Joel has dropped to his knees and is curling his fingers into the elastic of your underwear, dragging the fabric down your thighs.

“In the kitchen? Really?” You huff. “There’s a perfectly good bedroom upstairs.”

“Too far,” he says, tossing your underwear aside.

Despite your complaints, there is something undeniably sexy about having Joel kneeling before you, impatient enough that he’ll take you right where you stand. He shuffles closer, lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and lavishes your clit with broad swipes of his tongue.

Your head drops back as you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls out every trick in the book of your pleasure, alternating between fast circles and sucking the bundle of nerves between his lips. It’s not long before you’ve reached the precipice of your release, teetering on a razor thin edge before finally falling into oblivion with a gasp of his name. He groans against you as you come, waves of it rolling through you.

“So fuckin’ good,” he says as he pulls away. You look down at him with a half-lidded stare, his chin wet in the low light and his own gaze dark with lust. He stands, slowly, with a bit of a wince because of his bad knee that he tries to hide with a grin. “C’mere.”

You let him pull you away from the wall and into his arms where he kisses you, his lips and tongue drenched in your taste. He walks you back to your little kitchen table, kicking a chair out of the way so that he can turn you to face it, a palm between your shoulder blades urging you down until you’re bent over the wooden surface.

The clink of his belt buckle falling to the linoleum makes your muscles clench in anticipation. Joel’s palm smooths down your back, almost reverently, before reaching your ass and giving it a rough squeeze.

“You’re killin’ me, you know that?” He asks. You turn your head, glancing at him over your shoulder.

“Me? I’m not doing anything, I’m waiting for you to quit teasing.”

“That’s just it,” he says, sliding the head of his cock through your messy pussy before notching himself at your entrance. “You ain’t gotta do anythin’ except exist and you’ll drive me crazy.”

Any response you had dies a swift death as he presses inside of you, filling you in the most tortuous way. The ache of the stretch quickly fades as he bottoms out with a deep groan, his hands gripping your waist tight enough that you know you’ll feel the phantom sting of bruises in the morning. He sets a rough, demanding pace, the sound of skin against skin cacophonous in your little kitchen. You can’t hold back the noises of pleasure he wrings from you as he slams in deep with each thrust and pulls out so far that you’re practically empty before doing it over and over again.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous like this, so tight,” he grunts. You arch your back the slightest bit, changing the angle so that each drive of his cock drags against that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars and whimpering his name. “God, that’s it, sweetheart. Take it so pretty.”

“Joel,” you moan. “Please, please, please.”

“Beggin’ to come again?” He asks. “So greedy, ain’t that right?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Need to come, please, Joel!”

“I gotcha, baby.” His hand slips between your thighs and his fingers pinch your sensitive clit. “Come on, come on my cock so I can fill you up.”

It’s an empty threat, but one that works. Your muscles go tight with your second orgasm, your cunt pulsing around him as his thrusts grow erratic, uncoordinated as he chases his own high. He pulls out just seconds before making good on his word, painting your skin with warm release.

As you catch your breath, his warmth leaves your side. You vaguely register the sound of running water before a cold rag is wiping away the mess on your ass and cleaning up the slick between your thighs, the rough fabric over your sensitive flesh making you jump. Joel shushes you, another pass of his soothing palm down your back as he finishes wiping you clean.

You stand up straight on shaky legs and collapse in the chair that he’d kicked from the table to make room for your bodies. He’s already pulled his pants back up, the only evidence of your tryst in the sheen of sweat on his brow and his hair in disarray. His jaw grows tense as you watch him and he shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot in the awkward aftermath.

“Thanks,” he says. “Needed that.”

“So you said,” you reply. “Did something happen?”

“Just some bullshit with Tommy.”

“Brother bullshit or town bullshit?”

“Bit of both.”

“Oh.”

He nods, glancing at the door. “I should get goin’.”

“Right.”

Joel doesn’t move for the door, though. No, he steps in close, taking your face in his warm hands and kissing you softly, gently, a wild juxtaposition to his earlier attentions. When he pulls away, you can’t help but reach up and smooth a thumb between his eyebrows, trying smooth the line of concern there.

“You don’t have to leave,” you whisper. You’ve said it before. You’ll say it again. You’ll keep saying it, until the ship that passes you in the night returns to your harbor.

“I do,” he replies, stepping back. You give him a tired smile.

Tonight isn’t that night.

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed! You can find more of my writing below:

Joel Miller masterlist | All character masterlists

[barbieaemond]

And I dream of a grave

Header by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs 💕💕

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: angst (!), smut, too many references to graves/burying, mentions of Blood & Cheese, miscommunication, Aemond's coping mechanism is violence and sex, in this order (good for him)

Word count: 3.8k

Author's note: the gif is self explanatory. This is a prequel to A Curse for a Curse, but can be read as a standalone. Big thank you to @irenadel for giving me the idea and being one of the most supportive souls <3

Taglist: @ladystarksneedle @arcielee @multyfangirl

MASTERLIST | English is not my first language

This is more than tempting the Gods. This is forsaking and impudently turning their backs on them.

As she sits down at the banquet, her mother’s words echo through her mind like the vexing sound of the wind on a storm’s night. It sets an unpleasant weight on her lungs, the close and yet shapeless feel of something dreadful. She’s almost grateful, looking around, to ascertain she’s not the only fool dreading this whole act.

The Dowager Queen sits at the table, barely able to contain a grimace. Queen Helaena, she is certain, has never looked so pale, her eyes so vacuous and yet so full of something unknown, elusive, smoke clouding and clearing her unnatural stare. The Hand has conveniently made himself absent. She can’t blame him. Actually, she envies him. If only she too could have been spared such a farce. But as the wife of the King’s brother, the very one they’re all supposed to celebrate tonight, she cannot do that, can she?

To cheers and the blaring of trumpets, the King enters shoulder to shoulder with his brother, tall and proud in his stride, wearing dark green velvet for such a special occasion, and such a special title.

“Do you know how they’re going to call you from now on?” the Queen Mother had asked when he came back from Storm’s end, dripping rain and mud and war.

“I do, Mother.” Aegon had answered, twisting a knife from his seat at the head of the table; she had never caught that glint of satisfaction in his eyes, not like that; it wasn’t dimmed by wine or flesh, but sharp as the blade in his hand. “A title he should be proud of.”

Pride was ever the easiest thing to wear for Aemond, the softest glove gliding on his skin, born out of a pit so deep and full of insecurities and negligence that that same endless depth had grown out of proportion in order to fill itself. To even try scratching his pride was like trying to climb the highest mountain with bare hands. She had cut her palms open to do so.

“What happened, Aemond?” she had asked once alone in their chambers.

“You know what happened.”

“What really happened?”

His good eye had pierced her as if she were made of crystal, but his jaw was too set, on the verge of breaking his own teeth if he carried on keeping the guilt, and truth, trapped inside.

“I didn’t want to.” He whispered, coming down from the peak, “I didn’t want to kill him. I only wanted—”

“Revenge? Well, you had it. Did it make you feel good? Did you bring that boy peace at last?”

It took him a lifetime to say no; a whispered sound, choked even, as if he had bitten off his tongue to get it out of that pit where he had never looked again.

He was biting his tongue in the council, the faintest clench in his jaw but here, here in the council, here in the world, he had to keep that pit buried and stand straight on the highest peak, looking up and up, never down, never back. How could he, how could he admit he had lost control. It was easier, safer, to let them think of him a monster, rather than just human.

“I salute you, brother.” The King had said, raising his cup “True blood of the dragon! We shall have a feast in your honor!" Otto had merely lowered his head in defiance, going unnoticed in the eyes of his King and grandson, drunk with power and finally free of his mother's leash, unaware that a golden noose now held him in check.

He had summoned jesters, musicians, even some dancers to coddle his brother, and raise him higher and higher. She imagined she just had to wait for the fall. Or perhaps pray to the Seven to overlook the insult, to keep a mortal up there with them for a little more. But then again, they shouldn’t ask the Gods for mercy. Someone more unforgiving, more bloodthirsty. Someone who, just as her husband and his brother and each one of their cursed dynasty, did not listen to either Gods or men.

“A toast!” the King says at one point, turning to his left. “To my brother Aemond and a long overdue justice, is it not?”

Out of courtesy and duty, she grabs her cup and raises it, but as everyone at the table sips their wine, all she tastes is contempt, and the cup hits the surface untouched. But not unseen.

“Brother, wine may cloud my judgment, but it seems to me that your beloved wife does not share the sentiment of this fine evening. I wonder why.”

She holds the King’s demanding stare with a firm one, aware of Aemond looking at her even if his eye is fixed on the table. He has ignored her for the whole night, not sparing her a single glance. Because she owns the truth, doesn’t she, and it’s a knife pointed at his back.  

“May I speak my mind, your Grace?”

There’s the slightest shift in Alicent’s posture, as if she were desperately waiting for her, or anyone, to cease all of this, to say this isn’t right.

Aegon pulls a thin, lazy smile and tilts his silver head, swirling his cup. “Why, of course, Princess. My brother tells me you have a habit of doing so.”

“Did he, now?” she resists the urge to scoff; such a despicable habit for a woman in this world.

“Fret not, good sister, I’m certain he holds no grudges against you for your silver tongue.”

“Oh, I’m quite certain too, your Grace. I know for a fact that he likes it.”

A few lords can do very little to hold their snickering, Aegon himself does not hide his malicious smirk, petty at the edges. It must run in the blood.

“Careful though, you don’t want to spend too much time talking, lest you leave my poor brother without any heir! It’s been a while since you two lovebirds tied the knot, isn’t that right?”

She glances beside her, surely Aemond won’t let that slight insult pass, but he stays still and silent like a statue. She can’t quite believe what she’s witnessing. This is the same man who would call the crowned head at the table wastrel, depraved, disgrace.

So much for a disgrace, now that he fosters your pride and lies.

“I can assure you, good brother, that the talking is well outweighed by other activities that involve very few words.”

Aegon plasters a big grin on his face, yet she’s not finished. “But perhaps the Gods are sparing me the burden of bringing a child in such troubled times. A realm at war is not the best place to live in, is it not?”

“It depends on which side you’re on, Princess.”

There’s suspicion in his tone, but she just blinks at him. “My apologies, I was not aware that my loyalty to your House, and my husband’s, was to be questioned.”

“Come now. We are bound by what if not words?”

“I was under the impression that the Crown should fear his own kin more than a simple foreign girl from the West.”

At that, Helaena lets out a strange noise, something close to a wince, and silence falls all over. It is only now that Aemond undoes the stone he walled himself in and acts as he always does when he feels belittled, or worse, threatened. He shuts her out.

“I’m afraid my wife is growing tired, brother. ’Tis best for her to retire.”

She bites her tongue and turns her head. There’s no mistake in his tone, that is an order. She stares at him and he stares back, blankly, and then, just as it is expected of her, she obeys.

She goes without saying a word, aware of Aemond’s eye on her, of Aegon’s little victorious giggle. He snaps his fingers and two dancing girls flock to his brother. She knows this because she can’t resist but turning before disappearing. The girls are said to come from Lys, no less. But he’s not sparing them a single glance. His eye follows her out of the hall, and even after.

Candles almost extinguished, casting a soft glow in the bedchamber, dim but enough to make the shape of her body visible under the covers.

“I know you’re pretending to be asleep.” He says, placing his dagger and eyepatch on the nightstand.

She doesn’t bother to wait a single moment to fly her eyes open. “Was I not supposed to pretend I was tired?”

When she gets no answer, she turns to face him, finding him on his feet near the bed, undoing the buttons of his doublet. His eye is on her, though, wide, as someone ready to hunt but seeing traps everywhere.

“Did you enjoy your feast?” she asks with piqued interest. “Such a shame that I missed most of it. I was eager to watch the girls from Lys dance. How were they?”

“Enough. You should thank me for dismissing you. You were bordering on high treason.”

“Since when telling the truth is considered high treason?”

“Is that what you were going to say? The truth? To make me look like a fool in front of the whole court?”

“I was only going to say that the feast was an insult and a challenge to the Gods or any common sense. And I know that beneath all the pats on the shoulder and the endorsement on your brother’s part, you are of the same mind.” she hopes to see the barest glimpse of validation on his face, at least here, where he can leave behind his pride and admit he made a mistake. Is that what you call starting a war?

But his expression is as closed as ever, wary.

She wishes it would hurt less than it does. “Of all the people ready to betray you, how quick you are to assume I’d be the first.”

“We’re bound by words, are we not?”

“Take your brother off your mouth.” She says absentmindedly; she tries to not let it sting, but it does anyway. It is a low blow, and she knows he does not believe it. He has raised the walls, coiling like a snake, and there’s no point trying to climb and risk cracking her skull open on the ground. She will have to wait for him to come down. “Then perhaps I should consider my father’s proposal.”

She leaves the bed and grabs a letter lying open on the desk. “He wrote me this letter. That is why my mother came all the way here, apparently to see how her daughter was faring.”

Aemond eyes it with the barest twitch in his lips, then looks up into her eyes and, with a sigh, she clears her throat.

“My dearest daughter,

It is with great concern and sadness that I write you this letter.

Words have reached me about the recent events involving Storm’s End and young Prince Lucerys’ demise. My spirits are low when thinking of the fate you’re enduring. But I want you to think carefully of this: annulments are rare but possible. Even more so since you bore no heirs yet. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins. I only need a word from you, daughter, and I shall hastily consult with a High Septon.”

She can barely register his arm moving, only sees his hand snatching the letter out of her grip, crumpling the paper between his fingers. Nostrils flaring, eye widening, she reads insult all over his face. About time.

“Is that it, Aemond? Is that the reason you’d think I would betray you? Because I didn’t bleed on a birthing bed yet? Is that how you measure my loyalty? What of all the times I drew your bath, washed your hair, pulled the boots off your feet? What about that curtain—“ she adds, pointing to the windows “and the fact that I told the maid to keep that side always closed so the sun will not bother your eye? Do you think I did all of this because of some empty words?”

He looks as if she has just slapped him. Mistrust and bewilderment run together all over his sharp features, trying to win one another, and she waits and waits, and she begs as all the purest things must be pleaded, wordlessly.

Come down. Come down. Lay down with me. In our bed, a grave, it matters not. I'll take the shovel and do the burying.

But he stands still on his high and cursed perch, the grip on the letter loosens, his shoulders slump a little, because this, this comes so easily. Violence. It’s the other glove he wears like second skin.

“You will write to your father and tell him if I hear another word about annulments, I will have his head for treason. And as for you… you tell a living soul what you know, and you shall join the Silent Sisters. You won’t even have to vow your silence, for I shall take your sharp tongue first.”

She watches him go, standing in the middle of the room like a fool; her hands bleeding still and a plea, unheard, choking to death in her chest.

Her hands heal, stay whole for so long. She feels she cannot reach him this time, no matter how hard she tries to climb. She finds no footholds, no inlets, until she stops looking for any.

She finds she has no strength to do it anymore. They’re all dead anyway, each of them in their own way, their own burial.

The king drinks and rages and drinks and rages. Helaena rocks on herself all day long, chasing the highs and lows of her laments. Jaehaera stares at her mother with her small lips sewn, her eyes wide and the Queen Mother weeps and weeps, wondering if the little girl is watching her mother go mad with grief or yet again her twin brother’s head rolling on the ground like one of her toys.

And Aemond…she does not know where Aemond chose to bury himself. He spends the day out, trying to escape the smothering grip of the Stranger’s claws, his curse…or is it only retribution?

Sometimes he’s in the training yard, sometimes that same yard becomes theater for revenge. He kills whoever helped Blood and Cheese enter the Keep, man or woman, he doesn’t care. He tortures them, and she wants to beg him to stop, to tell him that torturing one, two, or one hundred men won’t stop guilt from torturing him.

So, he wanders restlessly, basks in small and big cruelties, until the sun sets and she’s aware, as the bed dips under his weight, that she is his own burial. He takes her at any time, in any place, be it the bed, the desk, or bent over the vanity, she cannot do anything to stop him. She doesn’t want to and yet she aches to do it. Because it’s always sudden, and harsh and hurtful when he pulls her hair, when he spares no time to stoke her desire, when he keeps her bent with her back turned and a firm hand on her neck like some kind of punishment.

It never used to be like this. It had been playful, teasing, painfully slow as if he were separating salt from water, and then fast, urgent, unraveling for two inexperienced newlyweds.

But it had never been like that. There was no joy in it. Only a duty to be fulfilled. Some twisted way to gain control, while anyone else kept slipping from his hands. Just as Vhagar slipped out of his control on that fateful night of storm.

He remembered that dark thrill pounding in his veins, the laughter gushing out of his throat like poison. He couldn’t bring himself to stop. He didn’t know whether Vhagar was fueling his fire or the other way around, perhaps both. Just a little more, he’d thought, as Arrax batted his wings frantically, desperate, mirroring his young rider, to escape the gaping jaws of the Queen of All Dragons.

That’s what he wanted. He wanted to relish in his nephew’s dread, he wanted to drink it. He wanted him alone, desperate, hopeless, just as he had been.

And then he felt it, the shift in the ancient fire pit he was riding, like a boat tipping over and there was no helm to grab onto and bring it back to land. He had sunk his own family into the bleak abyss of Daemon Targaryen’s soul.

He had come to collect, thoroughly. A son for a son, yes, but he had taken much more than Jaehaerys. He’d taken Helaena as well. Even Jaehaera.

Will she ever be able to speak again?

Will my Mother ever forgive me?

Words never spoken, stuck on his tongue and then gagged and swallowed. He cannot look down, cannot look back. He must look up and forward, like soldiers do. To the next battle, to war.

But there’s this woman. And the sight of her in his bed that makes his breath hitch and for two reasons entirely opposite to one another. The first is the most ancient one. But she’s also a thorn in his side, for she knows. She knows everything. She knows all his peaks and depths, every brick in his walls and how to dismantle them; she knows he’s strong and weak, that he’s scared and guilty and worthy of his mother’s contempt, but he cannot bear any of this in front of her.

He flees her presence during the day, only to impose himself on her for the whole night. She cannot refuse him. And he cannot have her prying and dismantling his well-crafted walls and lies, so he takes her and takes her and takes her until he works themselves up to exhaustion and she’s a rag doll in his hands. It serves the purpose, though. As long as she has his cock in her mouth, as long as he harshly pounds into her, cutting her breath from the inside, she cannot ask questions. As long as he keeps chasing his pleasure, and his rugged breaths muffle his own ears, he cannot think straight.  

He's close now and it’s the second time already. The sheets are damp beneath their bodies, his back glints with sweat, damps his forehead as he thrusts inside her one more time. They’re lying on their side, but he keeps her caged against him, his arm has slipped on the mattress and under her neck to keep her still, with her back to him. With his cheek glued to hers, he croons praises in her ear, falling mindlessly from his lips but like drops in the ocean. Once, she would redden, smile blissfully, or challenge him, to go deeper, or harder, or both, but she’s a limp thing now. A mere body panting upon being fucked by another, that’s all.

This is possession. Or a desperate attempt to. Each night, he holds her as if it’s the last time and she could slip away from him at any moment, turning her back on him. She can feel it now, in the way he’s gripping her shoulder, the way his nails dig in her skin, carving into her bones: stay with me. Please. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave.

But it’s him keeping her away, turning her own back on him.

Don’t you know, she wishes to tell him, that I won’t, ever. I won’t. No matter how cursed you are. I won’t. I won’t.

He grabs her thigh, resting it on his hip, spreading his long fingers on her skin, spreading her legs so he can find the perfect angle and picks up the pace. She shudders with every thrust, gasping with her throat dry, feeling the long bridge of his nose sinking in her cheek, his grunts growing rougher and deeper; some strange choked sound at the back of his throat.

He comes quietly, panting shallowly against the damp fabric of her nightgown. And he stays there, claw gripping her shoulder, head sunk between her neck and collarbone, and deep to the hilt buried in her.

A tear rolls down her cheek. She doesn’t know where it comes from, who she is mourning, she can’t tell these days. Perhaps she’s mourning him, who he was, who he is now and who he is forcing himself to be. She doesn’t know where the deception lies anymore. She wishes she could push it back in, prays that it goes unnoticed, swallowed along with all the others, but she should know by now, the Gods are not in her favor anymore, if they ever had been.

“Why are you crying?”

She turns her head, and her breath hitches. The gemstone glints, yes, but she’s too struck by his eye to even notice the sapphire. There’s something raw there, bare, more than his very skin now. It’s the first time she sees that look on him, torn, heavy lidded and not by pleasure.

This is the burden of grief.

She wonders if that’s the reason he’s so keen on fucking her with her back turned, so she can’t see him. Perhaps she didn’t look hard enough. She thought he had risen too high, out of her reach, of anyone’s. She thought he would never fall, not in every sense of the word.

Hence, she’s at a loss for words, slightly pulling herself up, when he slowly comes down; he curls into himself, into her lap, resting his head there like a child. No Kinslayer, no Dragon Prince, no son, no brother. No husband. Just a human, bare in the skin and soul.

Aemond wraps his hand around her knee, gently, and then tighter and tighter, shutting his eye. He’s on land now, but the room is spinning, the whole world is spinning and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He feels he started it all, he threw a spinning top and got sucked into it. And she’s the only firm thing he can hold onto.

“Do you think I’m cursed?” he whispers, the barest flutter of his long eyelashes against his cheekbone.

But she has no answer. All she has are her hands, sliding on his naked skin, through his loose hair, gently, as if touching the thinnest glass, sealing the cracks. Her palms slice open again.  

“Aren’t we all?”

And I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more."

- The Castle, Franz Kafka.

[joelscruff]

a kindness you can't afford (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

kofi | a/n this is a sequel to my fic 'to freeze or to thaw', it's mainly just a lot of filth cause that's all my brain can handle at the moment lmao. pls be sure to check the warnings before reading & i hope you enjoy 💕 also shoutout to the incredible @toxicanonymity whose joel/reader/tommy fics inspired me to get tommy involved here. would highly recommend her fics stuffing & sweet little mess for a similar vibe. summary: there are no limits to how or when joel plays with his special girl. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: dark!joel, ddlg dynamics, daddy kink, big unspecified age gap (reader is of legal age), unprotected p in v sex, creampies, free use, somnophilia, cockwarming, squirting, light pussy slapping, size kink (joel's dick is huge), tummy bulge, oral (m receiving), praise kink, dirty talk, pet names (use of 'little one'), finger sucking, exhibitionism, mentions of pregnancy (but no risk), lil bit of tommy x reader teasing 👀(if you don't like tommy x reader then you prob won't like this) word count: 4.1k

He's so kind.

You've never known kindness like this before; never known the soothing whispers and gentle praises, the calming touches, the satisfying taste of homemade soup on your tongue, the comfort of a roaring fire, made just for you. You've never known the warm embrace of a much older man, the strong arms and solid chest, greying hair and sharp scruff, soft belly and thick cock. You'd spent most of your life in a frightening QZ, the past few years in a cold and unforgiving forest, and now - the warm safety of a cabin.

Woken by the gentle caress of two fingers against your forehead, pushing your hair back gently, a kiss to your bare shoulder, the heat of his solid form behind you, and the press of his hot tip to your soft opening. He doesn't ask, but he doesn't need to.

He pushes inside and you hum sleepily, drifting in and out a little as he feeds you the rest of his cock in one slow movement. Your eyes flutter but you keep them closed, nuzzling against the fluff of your pillow as he pulls you in and presses his body to yours, the hair along his torso tickling the sensitive skin of your back as the throbbing tip of his cock kisses that special spot in your tummy. He's so big inside you, taking up so much space in your body that it's mind numbing.

"Go back to sleep," he murmurs, pulling more hair away from your face and trailing his fingers along your cheek soothingly. His big cock twitches inside you, but he doesn't move, stays still as he waits for you to drift back into unconsciousness.

And you do. But not for long.

You're woken what you're sure must only be a few moments later to the feeling of his cock throbbing within the furthest parts of you, pulsing thick spurts of cum deep inside your body as he holds you tight and groans raggedly in your ear. His fingers are suddenly working furiously against your clit, circling and rubbing and pressing and making you cry out sleepily into the dark cabin. With barely any awareness, you feel the hot coil in your lower belly snap - and you're gushing. You feel him tug his cock out of you at just the right moment, just as a steady stream of liquid makes it's way past your freshly fucked hole, and you squeal.

"Shhh, baby," he soothes, but you can hear the smile in his voice as he watches your juices stain the dark wooden floorboards, watches it drip down into the blankets and soak the cotton, "Shh, I know, I know."

You whimper and squeeze your fists together, releasing another stream of liquid as your eyes roll back. An unintelligible string of words slip past your lips, slurred and broken, almost like you're speaking another language. He pulls you in and hushes you again, presses a finger to your lips as you convulse beside him in the bed.

"That's enough now," he murmurs softly, kissing your cheek and still rubbing your clit, pushing for more, "That's enough, little one. Go back to sleep."

He says this to you as if you can even control your sounds, your movements, as if your pussy continuing to gush isn't a result of his own actions, but he already knows this. He enjoys it, likes watching you fight to regain proper consciousness again after you squirt, likes watching you try to stop it from happening. And god, does he love to make it happen.

"Can't, daddy," you mumble, voice thick with sleep and pleasure, brows furrowed as you open your eyes to look down and see where he's still circling, "Can't stop wh-when you rub it like that."

You feel him press a kiss to your ear, watch him pull his fingers back from your pussy and slap them down lightly, then again, then twice more in succession. Another small gush of liquid spurts from your hole after the fourth slap, and he chuckles.

"Sleep," he whispers, slowing his movements, "I'll stop now, promise."

So you do, and he does - not before slipping his wet fingers past your lips for you to gently suck as you drift. You vaguely hear him murmur Daddy's perfect girl before you're lost to the world again.

You dream of him, as you always do.

--

He learned very early on that you could squirt. It wasn't even something you were aware of yourself - how could you be? It's not like you'd had many sexual encounters before this, none of them ever worthwhile anyway, and you'd never had it happen to you on your own either. But it's somehow easy for Joel to make it happen, once he knows he can, so easy that now it's one of his favorite things to do when he plays with you.

The first time, you'd been more than surprised - and very confused. You'd been spread out naked between Joel's clothed legs, back against his chest while four of his thick fingers pumped deep inside of you, thumb tapping your clit. He'd crooked them, curved his fingertips in the slightest way - and suddenly there had been a gush of heat, a heavy stream of release. You'd thought you'd done something else, something that had your cheeks warming and embarrassment flooding through your body as you twitched and cried in his arms. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, it was an accident.

He'd hushed you softly, kissed your lips tenderly and explained to you what it actually was.

"You're such a good girl," he'd praised, carefully easing your head into his lap and threading his fingers through your hair, eyes peering down at where your legs lay open, pussy still dripping, "Such a good girl with the sweetest little pussy, baby. Squirtin' just for me, just for her daddy, huh?"

You'd closed your eyes and let him hold you, soothe you, relax you. I know, little one. Did such a good job. M'so prouda you. Then he'd unzipped his jeans and fed his heavy cock into your mouth, let you suck on his leaking tip quietly for a few moments before he came down your throat with a long sigh, still stroking your hair. After you'd swallowed every drop, opened your mouth wide and showed him your clean tongue, he'd bundled you up and disappeared from the tent to make you dinner, off to fulfill that never-ending kindness and care he'd promised from the beginning. It had only been about a week since that first night where he'd first come into your tent, and you were already settling into the role of his special girl and doing it quite happily.

He'd made you squirt again later that night, had you shaking in his arms and gushing around his cock and close to tears, not because you were afraid or in pain but because it just felt so good. A relief, a release, a moment of bliss, all because of him. Your pussy had pushed his cock out of you with the pressure of your release, and you'd fallen back against him, sleepy and sated.

"Daddy," you'd whined, overstimulated and exhausted as he'd slipped his dick back inside your dripping heat, "Daddy, m'gonna fall asleep."

"That's okay, baby," he'd whispered, fucking into you slow with no plans of stopping, cock bulging in your trembling belly, "You can go to sleep."

You'd woken again a little later, warm in his arms, globs of cum drooling from your opening. You'd whimpered softly, reached down and touched where you were leaking, and - without even really thinking about it - gathered what he'd left there and pushed it back inside yourself before drifting back to sleep, safe against his chest.

--

The cabin you reside in is only temporary, though you wish you could stay longer. The group came across it in the early hours of yesterday morning, and you've spent most of that time naked in one of its four beds, sleepy and content among the warm sheets. It's been so long since you felt the comfort of a real bed, a soft mattress and thick blankets, and from the moment you passed the threshold Joel was adamant that you spend as much time in it as possible.

He's so kind.

He's been planning something with the others, an upcoming raid, a plan of attack, but you don't pay much attention to those things. When it all goes down, Joel has assured you that you won't be anywhere near the carnage, still safe and warm in the cabin until his return.

"Need you safe, little one," he'd told you softly last night, fingers scratching soothingly across your bare back, "Can't have anythin' happenin' to you." He'd kissed you tenderly, whiskers tickling your lips and making you giggle. "You'll stay here with Tommy, he'll take care o' you."

"Tommy?" you'd asked curiously, unsure which member of the group he was referring to.

"My number two." He'd brushed his nose against yours, touching his index finger to your bottom lip and tugging gently, "Don't worry, baby. I trust him."

"Okay, Daddy."

You can hear his muffled voice now through the door of your room, though you can't make out what he's saying. He's addressing the group, going over plans, but you're sleepy and have been in and out of consciousness for most of the afternoon, lost in the comfort of your warm bed. It's only when you hear someone say the girl, that your ears prick up, brows furrowing as soon as you realize they're talking about you.

Only seconds later there's a light tap on your door and you sit up in bed, gathering the sheets around yourself as it opens. You peer wide eyed at one of the other men of the group, standing there with a hand on his hip and his head tilted charmingly to the side. He's very handsome, dark haired and mustached and from what you've seen, always pretty well put together. You think this one is Tommy, the number two, but you're still not entirely sure.

"Your daddy needs you, sweetheart," he says calmly, though his eyes tell a different story - he looks at you hungrily, like they all do, gaze going glassy and dark. "He asked me to help you get dressed."

"Oh," you whisper, nodding slowly, "Okay." Knowing it's what Joel wants, you let the sheets drop, and now the man you think is Tommy can see that you're completely naked on the bed, exposed and soft. It's nothing new or alarming - Joel has not been discreet when it comes to your relationship, and you're no stranger to the men taking peeks at you, peering inside your tent when Joel's not there, watching the rise and fall of your breasts as you pretend to be asleep.

You watch as this man's eyes fall to your pussy, and you can't explain why it throbs beneath his gaze.

"He just wants you in a dress," he murmurs, leaning down and assessing the few garments folded near the bed that make up your incredibly simple wardrobe; two dresses, two shirts, one pair of jeans. He picks the warmer dress, the blue one with long sleeves, which you greatly appreciate; the cabin may be warm, but it's still the middle of winter.

He approaches the bed with a smile, unfolding the dress.

"Arms up, sweetheart," he says softly, and you obey. You wait for him to help guide your arms and head through but he doesn't, instead opting to stand there for a moment just looking at you. His eyes are glued to your breasts, smile still curving his lips as he reaches out and very gently strokes the side of one with his knuckle. You shiver.

"You're so pretty, honey," he murmurs, trailing his finger up and down slowly, just shy of your nipple, "You know that?"

You nod slowly, eyes hooded and arms still extended, "I- I think so."

His thumb finds your nipple and rubs it gently, bringing it to life under his fingertips. "Your daddy's been takin' real good care of ya, hasn't he?" he asks quietly, circling the hardening nub, "In a lotta ways."

You nod again, aware of a slow trickle of warmth beginning to pool between your legs, and unsure whether what's happening right now is something Joel would want. "Y-yeah."

"Heard him fuckin' you to sleep last night," he breathes, and the words send another throb to your pussy, "He was all up in your guts, wasn't he?" His hand suddenly moves from your breast to your bare tummy, and he palms the soft skin there delicately, "Right here?" You nod again and he smiles.

"You make the prettiest little sounds when you're gettin' fucked like that, babygirl."

His praises send tingles up and down your spine like Joel's do, as well as a blooming warmth to your cheeks. "Thank you," you whisper, unsure what else to say to such a statement.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." As he says it, the fingers on your stomach trail downward a little bit to rest on your mound. He strokes the skin there gently, thumb dipping low to brush against your outer lips. "Soft little pussy," he murmurs, smiling kindly at you again, "You like havin' this all filled up, honey?"

You nod again, still unsure the point of his questioning, of his touches, but also not really wanting him to stop. A quiet whimper slips past your lips when you feel the tip of his thumb lightly brush past your clit and prod very gently against your hole. There's no way he doesn't feel the sudden wetness there, the slow drip of stickiness and the warmth of your arousal, as well the faint remnants of Joel's cum still leaking from where he'd fucked you a few hours ago - he hums quietly, unsurprised.

"Yeah, you like bein' full," he breathes, that dark glint returning to his gaze as his thumb just barely pushes inside, "Y'like bein' used."

It's not a question, but you nod anyway.

He suddenly removes his hand from your pussy and finally helps you with your dress, pulling it down over your arms and shoulders and helping you stand on wobbly legs. With another kind smile, he brings his hand up and gently brushes your cheek.

"So pretty, babygirl" he repeats quietly, "Like a little angel, ain't ya?" He suddenly presses his thumb gently against your mouth, lightly prodding for entrance, and without much thought you allow him to slip it inside; it tastes like your arousal. Eyes sleepy and pussy throbbing, you suck on his thumb obediently, as if it's just second nature to do so.

"Christ," he mutters, watching your lips as you suckle around his thick thumb, "Now that's a good girl."

"Tommy!" Joel's voice from the other room suddenly shouts, and the man who you now know for sure to be Tommy - the man who Joel is planning on leaving you with during the raid - quickly pulls his thumb from your wet mouth.

"Come on, sweetheart," he says, smiling crookedly, "Let's go see what your daddy wants."

--

There are five other men in Joel's group, from what you've gathered, including Tommy. Four of whom currently stand in a half circle in the front room of the cabin, arms crossed, boots tapping, attention directed at Joel who sits in a dusty armchair in the corner of the room. They all turn to look at you when the bedroom door opens, and watch with those familiar glazed expressions as Tommy brings you to their leader.

Joel's serious expression grows soft when he sees you, a small smile gracing his lined face. He peers at you, crooks his fingers. Without needing to be asked, Tommy carefully hoists you up into Joel's lap. His thumbs linger for a moment on your waist, a small stroke so quick you're not sure Joel notices - you're not sure you want him to - and then he's pulling away to stand beside the chair, asserting the role of number two.

It only takes a few seconds for you to realize that Joel's cock is out, hidden beneath the thick cotton of his jacket, out of sight. With no hesitation you wrap your arms around his neck and open your legs, laying your face against his shoulder and sighing contentedly when you feel his tip notch at your wet entrance. Not fully hard yet, he pushes inside carefully, subtly, and you ease yourself down just as quietly to sheathe him inside of you. You close your eyes and nuzzle into the warmth of his coat, already feeling the soft weight of him begin to stiffen.

You've done this before. Sometimes when he's overwhelmed, in over his head, needing to be grounded, he likes to have you sit on it. The first time it happened you weren't sure how to feel, self conscious with the other members of the group staring and knowing that you were full of him, soft whimpers escaping your mouth with every small movement or jostle. It's okay, little one, Joel had whispered, barely audible, you just focus on me.

Now, it's second nature. You can feel their eyes on your back and you know they can tell what's happening beneath Joel's coat. But now you find that you don't really care.

He starts talking then, continues whatever it was he was discussing before you left the bedroom. It becomes white noise almost immediately, your eyelashes fluttering as you bury your face further into his shoulder and focus on the feeling of his thick cock growing large inside of you. You love the way it stretches you, pushes, begins to prod up and against your cervix. It pulses and twitches within your walls and you squeeze down on him tighter, mewling a little without really meaning to.

At your noise you suddenly hear a soft chuckle from directly beside the armchair. You open your eyes halfway, looking up sleepily at Tommy who's still standing to your left. He smiles at you like he did before, a twinkle in his eye, and then winks. He obviously knows what's going on - standing so close, there's no way he didn't see you settle onto Joel's cock.

You peer back at him, blinking your eyes slowly and tightening your arms around Joel's neck. He tilts his head, and you suddenly let a smile turn up the corners of your lips. Look Tommy, you almost want to whisper, he's all up in my guts, like you said. You're not sure why you feel so unbothered under Tommy's gaze, why you don't yearn for him to look away like the others and for him to pretend it's not happening. There's a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can't explain, that you don't want to explain.

You stay settled like that on Joel's cock for about fifteen minutes, letting the deep voices of the men around you fade into the background. You close your eyes again but you can still feel Tommy's eyes on you, watching, assessing. Every now and then Joel carefully adjusts you, driving himself a little deeper each time, sending tiny bursts of pleasure throughout your body as your pussy leaks around the intrusion. If Tommy were to lift you up again you know there'd be a dark spot at the front of your dress, a trail of slick on Joel's coat.

One particular adjustment moves the edge of the lining of Joel's coat between your folds, coming to rub against your clit, and without any warning you feel yourself start to come. Your soft cry interrupts the voices of the group, a hush of silence suddenly blanketing the room as you tighten around Joel's cock and gush around him, shaking in his embrace. His arms come up to hold you close, rubbing your back soothingly.

You look up at Tommy again and find that his eyes are hooded as he watches you, lips parted and brow furrowed with what can only be arousal as he watches you fall apart on another man's cock.

"Christ," you hear one of the men murmur, and you feel heat flush your cheeks and ears, the self consciousness returning in full swing as you come down from your orgasm, burying your face in Joel's coat once again.

"Not a fuckin' word, Perry" Joel states, voice firm.

The conversation continues like nothing happened, and you try to let the sudden embarrassment you feel dissipate as much as possible despite still being impaled on Joel's length. You nuzzle against the warmth of his neck, sighing and trying to get your breathing back to normal. Your cunt continues to spasm around him in small twitches, aftershocks, soft whimpers still falling from your lips unconsciously. It doesn't take long for the sounds and sensations to set him off, and there's another lull in the discussion as Joel tenses underneath you and starts to come.

"Oh for fuck's sake," you hear the same voice from before mutter, but his commentary is suddenly lost beneath a soft groan from Joel as his cock twitches inside you. It pulses warmly, thick bursts of cum painting your insides. You gasp softly and squeeze your thighs against his, letting him fill you up in slow and steady spurts, claiming you. Daddy's special girl.

There's a moment of silence, a deep sigh from Joel, and you wait with the rest of the group for him to speak.

"You wanna say that again?" he finally says, voice gruffer this time but stern and serious, as if he didn't just come inside you in front of a room full of his men, "Huh, Perry? You wanna fuckin' say that again?"

Another beat of silence. Then-

"I'm just sayin'," the man named Perry grumbles somewhere behind you, "Aren't you worried you're gonna get her pregnant? I mean, Jesus Christ, Joel, we don't need another fuckin' mouth to feed."

The words send a shockwave through your body, eyes widening.

"And where the fuck do you get off tellin' me what I can and can't do?" Joel asks angrily. His body has gone stiff beneath you but you think you've gone equally as stiff against him, Perry's words suddenly circling over and over again throughout your mind.

Pregnant? Could you be pregnant?

"I don't know if y'all remember," Joel says coldly, "but back in my day there was a little thing called a fuckin' vasectomy. Need me to explain it?"

"Oh, fuck off, Miller."

You suddenly find yourself peering upwards again at Tommy, eyes still wide as Joel and Perry start to have a go at each other. He looks at you once, brows scrunching together when he sees the sudden look of shock in your expression, the confusion, the fear.

"We've all been thinkin' it," Perry is saying, voice slightly shaky in his anger, "It's a valid fuckin' concern."

"Well now it ain't a concern at all," Tommy suddenly jumps in, hands clenching into fists at his sides, "She ain't gettin' pregnant, he's shootin' blanks."

His protectiveness sends another confusing feeling of warmth to that pit in your stomach. Your heart is pounding as you continue to peer up at him, eyes still wide, and he shoots you a soft look of reassurance before turning his attention back to Joel.

"Don't know why you had to have her in the fuckin' first place," Perry spits, "She's just some fuckin' girl. And now we gotta stand around and watch you fuck her all the time? It's fuckin' sick."

Joel stands suddenly, almost like he's forgotten you're sitting in his lap, jostling you to the side as his cock slips out of you. You take a step backwards, finding yourself bumping into Tommy's solid form as Joel zips up his jeans and tilts his head from side to side, bones cracking loudly in the tense room. You can finally see this Perry now, a much younger man with dark hair, standing a few feet away. He's thin, almost gaunt looking.

Joel could kill him so easily if he wanted to.

But he doesn't. Instead, he reaches down and takes your hand, pulls you away from the group and back toward the cabin bedroom. He mutters something under his breath to Tommy in passing, something you can't make out, and as he ushers you inside the room you hear the heavy shuffling of boots as the men are lead back out into the snow.

--

He explains to you what a vasectomy is.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

Wrapped up in warm bedsheets again, you close your eyes and nuzzle against his chest, letting his large form crowd and comfort you, his arms firm around your waist. You can feel his cum starting to drip from you under your dress, making a mess of your thighs.

"I don't like the way he talked to you, daddy," you whisper like it's a secret, voice hushed and muffled against his coat, "I didn't like it at all."

He sighs, pulls you in closer and presses a kiss to the top of your head. "I'll take care of it, little one," he murmurs softly, a sense of finality in his quiet words, "Don't you worry your pretty little head."

He's so kind.

[sunrizef1]

Please Please Please

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: None

Authors Note: this isn't what the poll was for dw lmao | also I've been caught out by lando once again 😭 he's just the best fit for this song

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yourusername

📍Buenos Aires, Argentina

liked by taylorswift landonorris and 2,349,022 others

yourusername Had a great time opening for #TSTheErasTour in Buenos Aires! Muchas gracias, Argentina! 🇦🇷

load comments…

user1 so so so pretty 😭

user2 I was there 🥰

user3 loml

user4 I LOVE HER SO MUCH

user5 just looked in the mirror and sighed

user6 my favorite outfit from this leg of the tour

taylorswift 💕

yourusername 💕

user7 I FEEL SO MUCH LIGHTER LIKE A FEATHER WITH YOU OFF MY MIND

user8 that second picture is so adorable I’m screaming 😭😭😭

user9 IM TALKING NONSENSE

user10 new album when???

user11 Lando Norris in the likes??? 😭

user12 wait who is that

user13 an f1 driver 😭

user12 what’s he doing here

user13 idk 😭

user14 Y/N RUN QUICK LANDOS HERE

user15 we can’t let him get her 😭

user16 she’s so pretty I’m in love with her 🫶

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yourusername added to their story

landonorris

🤩🤩🤩🤩

yourusername

🤭🤭🤭🤭

landonorris

I saw you open for Taylor

in Brazil

your were wonderful

yourusername

I’m flattered 🥰

landonorris

I’d be even more flattered if I could take you on a date

yourusername

You usually this confident?

landonorris

No, I’m actually not

yourusername

Well

I’d love to go on a date with you Mr Norris

landonorris

😅 thank god that worked

You ever around Monaco?

yourusername

Not usually

But I could be 😚

I’m off next week <3

landonorris

Perfect

See you then

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TWITTER

MESSAGES

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by landonorris jackantonoff and 4,777,008 others

yourusername that’s that me espresso ☕️🩵

load comments…

user17 rip sharpay evans you would’ve loved espresso by y/n l/n

user18 it’s actually so good omg

user19 best song ever made fr

user20 love love love

user21 truly that girl

user22 ON REPEAT

user23 I love her more than life

user24 IM WORKING LATE CUS IM A SINGERRRRRR

user25 face card never declines

jackantonoff rly good!

yourusername thanks jacky 🥰

user26 jack x y/n collab when???

user27 Landos back in the likes…

user28 free my girl from the shackles of a man

user29 oh my god is the song about him

user30 they haven’t been seen together in a while so I sure hope not 😭

user31 song of the year

user32 🩵🩵🩵

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yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by taylorswift maxfewtrell and 4,000,112 others

yourusername I'm working lateee cuz its my birthdayyy 💛

load comments…

user33 how to lose a guy in 10 days dress!!! 💛

user34 💛💛💛

user35 that polaroid looks suspiciously like lando

user36 that could legitimately be anyone

user37 of course but unfortunately she's been seen with him recently so…

user38 not lando…

user39 so pretty 🤩

user40 y'all rly hate lando? That mans been so supportive I legit can't not like him

user41 ikr! I'm a proud lando defender. No reason to hate him.

user42 I love them together idc

maxfewtrell happy birthday!

yourusername thanks max 🫶

user43 still not convinced that's lando

user44 girl.

user45 😍

user46 happy birthday girl!!!

user47 my favorite pop girlie

user48 IM WORKING LATEEEEE

user49 queen 👑

user50 I love lando 💛💛💛

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TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

🎵 Please Please Please - Y/N L/N

liked by landonorris maxverstappen and 9,880,771 others

yourusername I know I have good taste

load comments…

user51 hardest of hard launches

user52 I LOVE THEM TOGETHER I DONT CARE

user53 favourite couple 💛

user54 gorgeous gorgeous people

user55 LANDOOOOO

user56 lando wasn't even acting in that video that's just how down bad he is

user57 that first pic… 😍

user58 bring your bf to work day

user59 ...okay maybe I like him 🙄

user60 wait hes kinda hot 😭

user61 my royal couple

maxverstappen is lando gonna be an actor now???

yourusername its a good backup plan if the driving thing doesn't work out

landonorris I think I'll leave the acting to you

maxverstappen that's for the best mate

user62 lmao max

user63 they're so pretty 🥰🥰🥰

user64 so it couple core

user65 ATEEEE

landonorris yeah you do 💛

yourusername 🙄💛

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landonorris added to their story

user1

Y'all r so cute

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user2

yeah she is

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user3

😍😍😍😍

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user4

I still don't trust you car boy

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user5

the music video was so good!!!!

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yourusername

I love you 💛

landonorris

love you too 💛

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@casperlikej @evie-119

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort

word count: 4.9k

summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.

warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)

a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it

a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕

Joel was never that into gambling. 

Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy. 

He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it. 

Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way. 

However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up. 

One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs. 

Liam folds. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants. 

“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat. 

Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.” 

“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.” 

Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak. 

“You still have that pretty girlfriend?” 

Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.” 

“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins. 

“Fuck you, Miller.” 

“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.” 

Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes. 

“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.” 

“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.” 

You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.” 

That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?

“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.” 

“You should’ve thought of that before.” 

“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.” 

“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?” 

“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.” 

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.” 

You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.

“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.” 

“You can’t leave, where would you go?” 

The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world. 

And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes. 

You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing. 

Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color. 

Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded. 

The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate. 

You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart. 

You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything. 

And it seemed like you were no exception. 

Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners. 

You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear. 

“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.” 

Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there. 

And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam. 

It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much. 

And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self. 

The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another. 

You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel. 

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down. 

“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.” 

After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you. 

“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.” 

He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?” 

“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.” 

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow. 

Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.” 

“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.” 

Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue. 

He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?” 

“God, yes.” 

You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard. 

Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.

He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most. 

Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh. 

“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.” 

Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion. 

Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed. 

“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?” 

It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.” 

The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage. 

“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue. 

Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight. 

After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin. 

“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.” 

He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?” 

“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.” 

You pout, “Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely.  “Don’t make me say it again.” 

You sink to your knees immediately after that. 

He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek. 

You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks. 

“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.” 

You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.” 

“Get on with it then.” 

Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock. 

“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth. 

“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”

Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.  

“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.” 

As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—” 

His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses. 

“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.” 

Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts. 

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.” 

“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.” 

“Is this pussy mine?” 

“Yes, it’s fucking yours.” 

Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning. 

He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?” 

“Yours! It’s fucking yours!” 

Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking. 

You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger. 

“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?” 

“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust. 

“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words. 

His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously. 

“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?” 

“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.” 

His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.” 

Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him. 

With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.” 

“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.” 

Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!” 

You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you. 

“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!” 

“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself. 

“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.” 

You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful. 

You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone. 

“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—” 

Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out. 

If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips. 

“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls. 

“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.” 

“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss. 

Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss. 

“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?” 

“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you. 

Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm. 

Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides. 

Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together. 

“I think he left, sweetheart.” 

“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.” 

Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore. 

[gtgbabie0]

helloo could i request a cregan stark x reader? Where the reader has the ability to see the future or possible outcomes? I hope it isnt to bad of a idea😅 Thank you so much 🫶��

-Cregan Stark x Dreamer!Reader

{Your dreams are often plagued by nightmares of events that are yet to unfold, Cregan is always there to hold you}

Love this! Thank you for requesting, enjoy lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

It was not lost on Cregan Stark that Rhaenyra’s daughter was… unique to say the least. It was known way before your engagement was planned, a quiet ceremony hidden away in the woods near Winterfell, it seems love still prevails even through war.

Although this never deterred Cregan, he was utterly head over heels for you yet confused at the same time whenever you would whisper cryptic insanities into the cold night air with wide fearful eyes full of knowledge about events that loom over the horizon like dark storm clouds.

He would spend hours brushing your white hair, speaking gentle, loving words against your shoulder when your mind seemed to have wandered too far from your grasp.

He was just as lost as you were when it came to figuring out what exactly it all meant and the Maesters were no help, especially on nights like this when you were awoken by such horrific sights that infest your mind.

“Aliments of the mind are far more trickier than those of the body, my Lord.” Maester Owryn says, still adamant about just giving you tea to help you sleep.

His words only serve to annoy an already exhausted Cregan, he can’t count how many times he has been told the same thing with a look of pity. It killed him that he could not provide you with more comfort, he cannot help but feel as if he has failed you.

“Do you see her, do you?— it’ll take more than damn tea to calm her from this.” Cregan scolds, looking down at the Maester with dark narrowed eyes. He glances back over to where you are curled up on a chair, your fingers buried within your messy locks, clutching harshly as you mutter the same words over and over again.

The Maester shuffles, fiddling with the small piece of parchment, his brows pulled together in confusion. “Might I suggest milk of the poppy?” He whispers, clearly unnerved by the glare that Cregan was scrutinising him under.

“No, bring her the tea.” The Lord settles, his tone rough with irritation. He did not want to subject you to the horrible drowsiness that the sweet milk brings, numbing your mind was not the answer.

With the Maester gone Cregan tries once more to approach you, drawing closer to you like he would with a wounded animal, he wraps his fingers around your wrists in an attempt to stop you from pulling at your hair, his touch is gentle despite the callouses on his palms.

“Not so hard my love… you’ll hurt yourself.” He whispers, eyes searching your face desperately for any signs of the woman you were before you woke up from this nightmare.

Although he finds nothing of the sort, you are all glossy-eyed and chapped lips, blankly staring at the floor like you were miles away.

A moment of silence settles around the room, the sound of your heavy breathing and the soft crackle of firewood is the only thing breaking through it. It takes a few moments and soft words of encouragement before you allow him to lower your hands down to your lap, your fingers still clutched tightly into fists.

“Dragon breath… burning flesh.” You whisper fearfully, a gasp escaping past your red-bitten lips. The same words you’ve been muttering all night, it unsettles him, calling to something deep within him.

Cregan hums, brushing your messy hair behind your ears. “I know my love.” He sighs, grazing the rough pads of his thumbs across your knuckles.

“Come back to me y/n, come on…” he whispers into the backs of your hands, closing his eyes as you continue to whisper the words madly.

The mumblings stop, your breathing coming back down into a steady rhythm as you begin to unclench your fists slowly. Relief hits Cregan like a gust of wind, his expression softening when your gaze meets with his own.

“… burning… bedevilled crown.” You try to explain to him all too quickly, stuttering over your words in a panic-stricken manner. Your hands trembling against his own rough ones.

“Slowly now, breathe for me first, my love.” He whispers, reaching over to cup your jaw to keep you grounded on the here and now, his thumb caressing your cheek.

Your senses soon come back to you making you aware of your surroundings, the softness of your nightgown and the warmth of your husband’s hand against the side of your face.

The Maester walks in with a small cup of soothing tea, placing the ceramic down on the dark oak table before taking his leave with a curt nod. The herbal aroma brings you into the present moment, keeping your mind occupied.

You watch with tired eyes as he gives you the cup, minding the way your hands still shake ever so slightly. He guides you to take small sips, smiling gently in encouragement.

“There were two, but I could not see— the smoke and flames��� screams.” The words are a struggle to get out and it pains him to see you like this, the pain and fear in your eyes.

Your words are too vague to try and make any sense of them, after all, it was a war between Targaryens, and the involvement of dragons and their formidable flames was inevitable.

“I want to stop it… to prevent the pain but I do not know how.” You whisper, voice strained with unshed tears.

“That may be beyond you. I won’t have you shouldering blame for anything that transpires.” He says, his tone full of love despite the roughness of it.

You nod softly, looking down at him from where he is kneeling in front of you. The soft glow of the fireplace flickers against his features, highlighting the exhaustion that hangs below his eyes.

“You can go back to sleep…” you suggest softly, clearly feeling too shaken up to go back to bed.

At your words he immediately shakes his head, taking your hands to pepper gentle kisses along your knuckles, his beard tickling your soft skin. “Not until you’re okay…”

You know there is no point in arguing the point, he is as stubborn as a mule. Instead, you shuffle over, giving him room to sit down next to you. The warmth between you, as he pulls you onto his lap, calms the restlessness that has built up within your chest, allowing you a moment of respite.

[jo-com]

Oscar but with a very dear-like girlfriend (she's very shy, skittish and very rare to see on social media because she avoids the cameras like the plague)

🩰 ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ୨ৎ ➛ Bambi

Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

Summary: Based of the request☝🏻

Genre: Fluff and a little bit of SMAU

Fc: Kathryn Bernardo

Note: there are some grammar errors and i am sorry if i just answered this request now, i was finishing some of my og works in my draft soo i hope you enjoyed this!!.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ⊹⁺ 💋⋅˚₊𐙚 ─ ───────

The bustling city roared with excitement— the mix of music and chatters filled the lively streets. Within that, two friends were walking amongst the crowd when they suddenly spotted one particular driver that was walking at the side with a girl?

With nerves that fueled both their curiosity and joy, they slowly approached the couple with smiles that stretched across their faces.

One of them lightly tapping Oscar’s shoulder making the couple turn around to completely face the two. “Uhm hi, me and my friend saw you guys and were wondering to get a picture?”she spoke, some of her words came out stuttered.

Before answering, Oscar looked back at you— his eyes curling into questionable ones,”Is that alright with you my love?” He asked, his tone soft and gentle. Like he always have with you.

“Yeah baby it’s fine” you muttered, your voice barely audible, but was loud enough for him to hear.

Oscar knew how anxious and shy you get whenever there are others; it was a habit you developed when you were small that came with you throughout adulthood. Luckily you met a guy who was willingly patient for you to open up.

And you were forever grateful for that.

The two friends looked at awe at their relationship, their eyes shined with adoration, but their minds still processing the new found information.

It was never said or announced that Oscar had a girlfriend— she was also rarely seen in both the media and the paddock. So they were shock to see a girl that nestled close to his embrace.

Oscar coughed, getting the attention of the two, he smiled at them and answered back politely, “yeah sure, we can take a picture.”

The two girls squealed with happiness as they put out their phone and took one or two shots of pictures.

After that, the friends thanked them both and let them to enjoy the lively city.

…

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Randm_girlie OMFG JS MET THE OSCAR PIASTRI (I still can’t believe it)

Tagged; @M_Bff

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Username1 WAIT WHO IS HE WITH

Username2 wth who is she!?!!

Username3 Does @Mclaren know abt this!

Username4 EWWW WTF

Username5 I’ve not seen her in the paddock

Randm_girlie CHILL GUYS, it’s his gf and she’s very pretty in person💕

Username6 ohh gross

Username7 js like u??

Username8 WAIT I JUST SAW HER INSTA

Username9 damn that fast?

Username8 It’s @Just.yn but it’s private

Username16 saw them once, they’re perfect

Username17 SHES NICE ASF AND GETS VERY SHY I LOVE HER

…

With that single picture— the two of you have been the talk of the social. People from his circle and friend group asked numerous times who you were and whether or not the rumors were true.

They were honestly begging for details.

“My baby is so famous”, Oscar joked, his hand sliding up to caress your cheeks.

You playfully rolled your eyes and pouted, “Not funny osc, you know how i hate attention.”

Oscar let out a few giggle and pinched your cheeks. “Too late baby, you’re just too adorable that people are so interested in you.”

“Should i be jealous?” He added, his face jokingly shifted into a shock.

You happily laughed back at his antics. The two of you sharing a laugh as you guys joked around some more.

…

Liked by Mclaren, Just.yn, Charles_leclerc and 4,789,701 others

Oscarpiastri Compilation of me and her (this is the closest you will get to seeing her pictures)

Tagged; @Just.yn

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Username10 SHES SO PRETTY WHAT

Username11 R U GATEKEEPING HER SIR??

Oscarpiastri yes she’s mine forever

Username12 CAN SHE BE MINE

Oscarpiastri uhm no.

Username13 Admin come get ur boy

Landonorris No wonder you don’t hangout with me anymore🙁

Oscarpiastri she’s way better ngl

Username14 BRUTAL😭

Username15 WAIT SHE KINDA FINE

Oscarpiastri KINDA??? Girl please she’s hella fine

McLaren We need to teach you some selfcontrol☺️

…

I hope i did it okay?? Idk it felt off🥹🥹