#every time i watch this back. i have to giggle

[okwonyo]

HIGH HEELS SHOES ✶ when you wear heels 𓈒

𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗥𝗦或 ❜ 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽.

【 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 】 𝑙’ enhypen & female!reader 14OO established relationship ⠀ ｡ ｡ skinship kissing

骚人 ܃ i have .. no idea of what this is ㅠㅠ

reblogs⠀⠀ꢾ꣒⠀ feedbacks please

HEESEUNG

“baby,” he calls from the bathroom upon finishing to get ready. he gets out of to go to the room where you are getting ready. “we have to leave soon, are you—”

his mouth gets dry when he is hit by the heaven-like vision of you standing in front of the mirror. he stops in his movements, unable to say anything for a while.

it gives you enough seconds to turn around and look at him. your giggles echoes in the room when you see his face.

your body grows hot as your boyfriend checks you out with barely controlled lust written all over his face.

you can tell by the expression on he his wearing the the red dress you are wearing is driving him into a spiral— but, you see him crumble when his eyes fall on your heels and lingers on your legs.

he groans as he walks to you, “you can’t do this to me, baby,” his hand comes settle themselves on your waist before he pulls you close. he kisses you first, yet he is the one that says, “we really need to leave soon.”

JAY

“they are so beautiful,” you breathe out, holding the beautiful heels you just got gifted by your boyfriend. you barely remember mentioning this brand and specific shoes but he does, vividly.

he smiles, relieved as if you could ever dislike anything he gives you. his hand holds the back of your neck gently as he gives you a forehead kiss, “i’m glad you like them, princess.”

you let yourself get kissed— as you are still in a dreamlike state, you don’t even realize that you are giggling when his lips connect with your skin. and you are too busy staring at the beautiful gift to realize that the man is getting on one knee.

he delicately takes the box out of your hands, “let me help you,” he tells you, putting the box on the floor.

he takes one of the heels in the box and under your adoring gaze, as if you were a princess, he lifts your legs up ever so gently, high enough to slide the shoe on your foot. your love for him grows, although you thought that was impossible, as you watch him do the same for your other foot.

“perfect,” he says when he is done. he gets up, and kisses you again— on your mouth this time. “you are perfect, angel.”

JAKE

as soon as you arrive home, you reach for the bedroom— closely followed by your boyfriend— to lay on the mattress. back resting against the soft mattress, a soft sigh leaves the barrier of your lips as you stare at the ceiling.

“let me help you, m’love,” his sweet voice declares. for a moment, you are confused about what he could be possibly talking about then you feel his hand wrapping around your ankle.

he holds one of your high heel, sliding the louboutin shoe off your feet— with such care that it almost makes you dizzy.

“you didn’t have to,” you chuckle when he takes off the other half of the pair of heels. you shamelessly watch him take off his suit’s vest from the front side of the bed.

shortly, he finds himself crawling on top of you, “you are so pretty,” he whispers. he doesn’t think that adding ‘tonight’ would be truthful. he thinks you are always gorgeous. “i thought i wouldn’t be able to control myself everytime i looked at you.”

you wrap your fingers around his tie, slowly pulling you closer to your lips. he sighs when you finally kiss— as if he was waiting for it all day long. honestly, he was.

SUNGHOON

there is nothing about you that goes unnoticed by him. because he spends most of his time staring at you, he notices every bit of your expression. even if you are smiling, he catches the wince when you think no one is looking.

however, he waits until you are in the intimacy of the back of the car, drove by your chauffeur, to do something about it. your legs are already over his laps when the car starts to move.

“are they hurting?” his question reaches you after a long silence. you raise a brow, silently asking him what he is talking about. you nod when he asks again, “your feet. are they hurting?”

the man gets out of the car quickly when it stops, just to rush and open the door for you. upon your feet gets in contact with ground, as you steadily stands on the floor, he steps closer.

you let out a surprised noise when your body gets almost turned upside down. his strong arms hold you, carry you like a newly married woman going ro spend time with her husband.

you will always be amazed about how he can pick you up with no efforts needed, as if you weighed nothing. it’s so attractive, you want to kiss him.

SUNOO

he gladly accepts to help you choose what pair of heels you are going to wear tonight. he is the one who encouraged you to wear them, and he is always more than happy to help you out.

but the truth is, your lover is way too distracted by you to think straight. his opinion is clearly biased because he thinks that everything you wear is beautiful.

“what about those ones?” your voice pulls him out of his contemplation of you. standing between his legs as he sits on the couch, you stare at the heels as he stares at you.

he doesn’t even try to look at the shoes on your feet. he only holds your hand to make you sit on his lap instead before breathing out; “gorgeous.”

you chuckle, shyness takes over you when he kisses your cheek gently and rubs your thigh with his thumb. “you didn’t even look at them, sun.”

his lips peck your cheek once again, then another time, clearly waiting for you to turn your head and kiss him— you do it and against your lips he murmurs, “everything you wear is beautiful, baby.”

JUNGWON

he loves it. he loves when you wear heels, he loves how it makes your legs look so alluring— more alluring than the already are— he loves how hypotonic it looks as well as it sounds when you walk.

put on heels and the man can’t think about anything else, he can’t do anything else other than stare at you, he doesn’t want to do anything else but touch you.

his large hand holds your hip and rests on your lower back as you walk. his hands holds on your waist as you talk to your friends, he pulls you closer to his body every time he feels like you are too far.

from behind you, he leans in to reach your ear as your friends discuss. his lips brush against your neck, kisses your skin before he whispers, “you look so good, doll.”

you laugh quietly, it is barely audible for anyone that isn’t as close to you as he is. in a teasing tone, you warn him. “jungwon, you are going to strangle me.”

the ongoing conversation fades out, for the both of you as he kisses your neck again. his mouth trails from your exposed shoulder to behind you ear and you elbow him when he tries to bite your earlobe.

RIKI

he is deeply in love. his heart starts to beat as soon as he gets a glimpse of you face through your house’s door. he stands correctly as soon as he sees you— so lovesick.

his mouth falls agape while you approach him, his eyes scans your entire being with nothing but pure awe. it’s the first time you wear this kind of shoes and he prays it’s not the last.

he doesn’t realize that his hand moved to his chest. feeling his heartbeat beneath his palms, he breathes out as you are finally to him, “you didn’t used to be that tall.”

he feels like he is going crazy when you tilt your head to the side, he mirrors your movement hopelessly as well as the smile you wear as you answer, “is that all you have to say?”

he can’t help but laugh at your cute fake pout. then he comes closer to your face, “of course not,” he gives you a sweet kiss before continuing; “you’re beautiful, sweetheart.”

he is satisfied when you smile widely at him, as the saying says ‘happy wife, happy life’ even if you are not married. yet.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[hottt-cakes]

The only reason I watched the show fr😅ANYTHING FOR BTS!! But since we’re on the topic let me rant a little🤭

Warning Spoilers ahead (YOU SHOULD PROBABLY STOP READING NOW)

Also it’s kinda long…my bad🫶🏾

This show pisses me off don’t get me wrong it was watchable but the plot and the storyline gave the potential to be BINGEABLE!! At a certain point I had a hard time wanting to continue watching.

Now if you loved it great!! Good for you but since this rant is about ME!! I’m going to say what I want to say.

Because how do you take a show with a plot as juicy as this and FUMBLE it😩 (here’s what I mean)

The MC FL was given the chance to go back in time keeping all her memories of the future and SHE DIDNT BECOME A MENACE?!?!?

Like she could’ve made her ex bf and ex besties life miserable (IN-Fucking-TOLERABLE) but instead SHE TOOK THE HIGH ROAD lowkey 🤦🏽‍♀️

She honestly could’ve gone BEAST MODE on them and have us all gagged clutching our pearls BUT NO!! ( out of the whole show only two scenes gave something close to that energy)

I just felt like she could’ve done way more she was just too nice in my opinion

Yes the bf and bestie got what deserved in the end but it would’ve been way more satisfying if SHE! messed with them more and made every moment of their lives unlivable until the very end😅

Next if we don’t watch a show for the plot best believe we in it for the LOVE story but IT WAS SOOOO DRYYYY (I wanted to rip my hair out). I couldn’t tell if they even wanted each other until the very end like WTF!!!

At that point it felt thrown in my face because the whole show there was NO CHEMISTRY NO SPARKS!!!

Supposedly the MC ML has been in love with the FL since college?.?.? But never got the chance to tell her and after she died he too died and was also sent back in time (with his memories mind you) to SAVE HER!!

The love plot alone could’ve been a GOLD MINE. We could’ve had scenes/moment that had us all screaming, going feral and gasping for air BUT NO!!! Instead we got NOTHING!!

Not even talking about steamy scenes or anything like that. In the kdrama world we keep it cutesy and demure strictly hugs and hand holding but nonetheless the scenes be giving you butterflies and having giggle being all shy but not with this show NO!! WE GET NOTHING!!

Not once while watching did I ever think the couple were specifically chosen by the stars and put together in the same timeline just to be together 😩

While watching, it got so bad I started begging PLZ MAKE ME FEEL LIKE THE THIRD WHEEL🫠

Also even the side characters had a little kindling romance and usually those be hitting the spots the MCs romances missed. Take Goblin or Business Proposal for instance those side character romances were so delicious I couldn’t get enough.

With this one it felt forced/rushed I feel like they could’ve worked on it a little more. She’s a foodie and he’s a chief like come on the shit basically writes itself. They could’ve been so cute☹️

Anyways I’m done, it just didn’t give what it was supposed to or could’ve give🙄

how to find fellow time traveler. tell them about your favorite unreleased BTS song

[lostinlovingrevery]

Playing with old man Logan’s dick, just playing, making it bounce, massaging his balls.. I’m ovulating…

Pretty Toy

Old Man Logan X GN! Reader

Coming home and playing with your toy

A/N: God I wanna play w him so bad...

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI pls :), you play with Logan, descriptions of pee-pee, handjob/blowjob, cum-sharing, playfulness

Logan was already in bed when you got home.

He was in nothing but his boxers, arms behind his head, eyes closed as if he were sleeping, but you could tell by the rise and fall of his chest he wasn't.

He always waits for you to come home, just like you wait for him.

You kicked off your shoes, silently walking over to the mattress, careful not to bump into anything. When you reached the mattress you slowly climbed on, straddling his lap, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his collarbone, up to his neck. He turned his head to look at you, and you pecked his lips.

"Hi."

"Hi." He greeted back, a small smile on his face, his eyes blinking sleepily. "You're a little late." He mumbled.

"Oh, were you waiting up for me baby?" You cooed. He let out a grunt, moving his arms down to your hips. You leaned forward to kiss him again. "You sleepy?"

"I don't get sleepy." He mumbles, eyes closed. You giggle.

"You too sleepy for some fun?"

His eyes shot opened, and a grin grew on his worn face, making you laugh. "That woke you up huh?"

"What kind of fun we talking bout?" He asks. You bit your lip, climbing down him, and he pushed himself up, his elbows bracing him. Your fingers teasingly traced over his boxers. You could see the outline of his dick becoming more and more prominent as you continued to tease him through the fabric.

"The kind you like." You say, you walked two fingers across the outline of his cock, before you reached the hem of his boxer shorts, looking up at him with a cheeky smile, you carefully and slowly pulled his boxers down.

His cock popped out, semi-erect, a small wave of it and you bit your lip observing it. You tilted your head, your eyes observing the veiny girth. His tip, large and becoming redder by the second. A slight curve upwards towards his belly. His balls sat heavy below, slightly wrinkled from his older age. The base of him was covered in curly salt and pepper hair, to match the hair on his head and beard.

"What, you grading me or something?"

You tipped your head back as you settled onto your belly, smiling at him, before winking.

You brought your finger up, playing poking at the erect member, watching it as it swings from your touch. You turn your hand and brush your knuckles up and the down the length, before moving and rapping your fingers along it - slowly becoming more and more fascinated in the way his cock moves from your touch.

Logan watches in amusement as you play with him. Poking and prodding his member. Most times, he'd probably get irritated, tell you to hurry the hell up or simply grab you and make you suck him off and quit with the teasin'. This time, he lets you have your fun; he could see the exhaustion in your eyes and the fact that you still had will to come home and want to be with him, well, he'll endure a little teasing.

"Like your toy?" He grumbles with a quirked brow, as you wrapped your hand around his base. Every touch you give him makes the muscles of his belly flex, making you giggle as you watch his belly jump as you softly brush your fingers up and down his cock.

"Mhm." You nodded, still admiring him length. "It's very pretty."

His face flushed at your comment, as he swallowed- nearly choking on his own spit at your words. He took in a sharp breath, as he felt himself throb slightly. He watched you continued admiring him till your eyes landing back on his balls.

Watching you lean down, you pressed a chaste kiss to each one, before pressing a kiss to the base where they connect. He was losing his composure now- his hands gripping the sheets and white-knuckling them.

You started waving his cock in the wave, bouncing it against his belly- before moving it as if you were using a joystick of an old game station, making "pew pew pew" noises. A warm chuckle came from him,

"Real cute love." He says. You giggle, before bringing your other hand to cup his heavy balls, rolling them across your fingers as you tapped the head of his cock against your lips. He let out a soft groan at the sight. You look up at him sinfully, soft parted lips and eyes full of lust, and he throbs in your hand.

"Pent up baby?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." He grumbles as he looks at you with narrow eyes.

You smile, and gave him a small, delicate stroke up to his tip, where you watched a bead of pre-cum. Slowly at his tip, you gave him another stroke and watch it fill, before slowly becoming too heavy and begins stream down his tip and his shaft.

You watched it with fascination. Similar to an ice cream cone that was beginning to melt. You leaned forward, sticking your tongue out and lapping up the pre-cum, a small moan escaping you as you taste him. Salty, and sweet.

"I taste that good bub?"

"Like a delicacy." You beamed. He let out a laugh. You rested your head on his thigh, still massaging his balls and bouncing them along your fingers, while your other hand began to stroke him slowly. He tipped his head back, a deep rumble escaping his chest.

You still messed with him as you increased the speed of your strokes. Using his pre-cum as a lubricant, a slick noise was repeated throughout the room. You teased him, slowing down, speeding up, bouncing him against your cheek, sucking on his balls, and running your tongue over his Adonis belt

You fisted your hand over his swollen tip, rubbing circles over it with your thumb and watching as pre-cum continously bead, where you gathered with your thumb, tasting it and moaning loudly.

"Fuck." Logan hissed as he watched you. His spread his thighs farther apart, and you noticed a small thrust of his hips, becoming more desperate for his release as you worked over him. You smiled,

You've played with him long enough now.

Lifting your head, you took his tip between your lips, your tongue licking and twirling around his slit as you sucked on him. Your hand gripped him tighter, as you drew out longer strokes. You watched his thighs tremble and opened your eyes to see his worn face, filled with pleasure- his lips parted as he pants, his cheeks burning red, and his eyes heavy- full of desperation.

A grunt escaped him, as he thrust his hips forward and you felt him spasm in your hand, as spurts of cum shot out over your tongue. You heard gasps and whines escape him, his chest heaving as you continued working him through his ecstasy.

He twitched one more time, one last spurt on your tongue, and you felt him lax in your touch. His chest rising up and down, you climbed over him- his cum still on your tongue and lips.

He smiled at the sight of you, despite her exertion. His hand brushed into your hair, pulling you down into a wet, open mouth kiss. Pressing his tongue against yours and sharing the taste of him.

You moaned softly, your lips brushing over his as you talked. "Don't you see how good you taste?"

"Only cause it's got you in it." He mumbles, his fingers softly tracing your scalp, down to your neck. You smiled, kissing him again. "So, whats my grade?"

"Mm....B+"

"B+? The fuck?" He looks at you offended. You giggle.

"I haven't gotten to see the rest of what my toy can do yet." You argue.

He grunted, hands coming to your waist, and flipping you onto your back with him on top. "Alright then. Let's show ya."

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Coming Home to You

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: it’s senior night a very big night for Paige indeed.. and you can’t miss it not when you’re each other’s home

For the past few weeks, keeping this secret had been absolute torture. Every time Paige texted me about how much she wished I could be at her senior night, my heart ached. I wanted to tell her, wanted to ease that longing in her voice, but I knew it would be worth it. Everyone was in on it—her teammates, the coaching staff, even her parents. The only person in the dark? Paige herself.

Now, as I sat on the plane with my niece squirming beside me, I felt the anticipation bubbling in my chest.

“Auntie, are we there yet?” my five-year-old niece, Aria, whined, her little legs swinging beneath her seat.

“Almost, baby,” I reassured her, smoothing down her curls. “Paige is gonna be so happy to see you.”

She grinned, showing off the gap where she had just lost a tooth last week. “She’s gonna be so surprised, right?”

I laughed, nodding. “Yeah, she has no idea we’re coming.”

Aria giggled, kicking her feet harder. She adored Paige, and the feeling was mutual. Anytime we FaceTimed, Paige always asked about her, sending little gifts and promising to teach her how to dribble properly one day.

As the plane began its descent, my stomach tightened. I had spent months away from Paige, only seeing her through a screen, listening to her talk about the season, about how it felt knowing this was her final year in a UConn jersey. She deserved to have her people there, and I needed to be there for her—just like she’d always been for me.

By the time we landed, the rush of excitement made my fingers tingle. Paige’s mom picked us up, greeting us with a warm hug before driving straight to campus. The plan was simple: hide in the tunnels until the seniors were honored, then walk out as they announced her name.

Aria bounced in her car seat, unable to contain herself. “I wanna run to Paige first! Can I? Can I?”

“Of course, baby,” I smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “She’s gonna love it.”

Game Night: Gampel Pavilion

The energy inside Gampel was electric. The crowd was buzzing, the students loud as ever, and the court gleamed under the bright lights. My heart pounded as I hid just behind the tunnel entrance, holding Aria’s hand tightly while the announcer began reading out names.

Each senior walked out to cheers, their families meeting them at center court. Paige was the last one to be called.

“And finally, our captain, our leader—number five, Paige Bueckers!”

The crowd erupted. My breath hitched as I peeked around the tunnel, watching Paige step forward, waving to the fans, her eyes already glassy with emotion. She thought her parents were the only ones waiting for her—but that was about to change.

“Now,” I whispered to Aria, squeezing her hand before letting go.

She took off like a shot.

“PAIGE!”

Paige barely had time to turn before Aria’s tiny body launched herself at Paige’s legs. Her arms instinctively wrapped around Aria, shock flashing across her face before realization dawned.

“What—? Aria?” Her voice cracked, looking down at the little girl clinging to her.

That’s when I stepped out.

The second Paige’s eyes met mine, everything around us seemed to fade. Her mouth parted in disbelief, her hands still frozen around Aria as if she thought she might be dreaming.

I smiled, my throat tightening. “Hey, baby.”

The moment shattered as she let go of Aria and practically ran to me, wrapping me up in the tightest hug imaginable.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice trembling against my ear.

“I’m here,” I murmured, holding onto her just as tightly. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

She pulled back slightly, cupping my face with both hands, her thumbs brushing over my cheeks as if she needed to make sure I was real. “You—you flew all the way here? When? How? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I laughed, my own tears welling up. “Because I wanted to surprise you. Everyone knew except you.”

She shook her head, laughing through her disbelief. “You’re evil.”

“You love me, though,” I teased.

Her grin softened into something more tender. “Yeah,” she murmured, pressing her forehead to mine. “I really, really do.”

The crowd was still cheering, the moment stretching between us as if we were the only two people in the gym. Paige’s hands never left my face, and I could feel her heart racing just as fast as mine.

“This is the best surprise ever,” she whispered.

I bit my lip, glancing down at Aria, who was grinning up at us, completely unbothered by the fact that she had just helped execute the best senior night surprise in history. “I had some help.”

Paige laughed, ruffling Aria’s curls before scooping her up into her arms. “You little sneak,” she teased.

Aria giggled, hugging Paige’s neck. “I missed you, P!”

“I missed you too, munchkin.” Paige pressed a kiss to her cheek before turning back to me. “God, I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“I wasn’t gonna let you finish this without me,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You deserve to have the people who love you here, Paige.”

Her expression softened, and she tugged me close again, this time pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead. “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” she whispered.

I smiled. “I think we both got lucky.”

She let out a soft laugh before glancing at the crowd, then back at me. “You’re staying for a while, right?”

I nodded. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Her grin turned into something mischievous. “That’s a dangerous offer, baby.”

“I’m serious.” I squeezed her hand. “I don’t wanna be apart anymore. I wanna be with you.”

For a moment, she just stared at me, and then—right there, in front of everyone—she leaned in and kissed me.

It was soft, sweet, and full of every unspoken word between us.

When she pulled away, her eyes were bright, full of something deeper than happiness. “Then stay,” she murmured. “Stay with me.”

I grinned. “You don’t even have to ask.”

She kissed me again, and this time, I knew—no matter where life took us, no matter what came next—I would always come home to her.

Paige’s POV

The adrenaline from senior night hadn’t worn off, but the moment we stepped inside my apartment, exhaustion hit me like a freight train. The last few hours had been a blur—cheers, speeches, hugs, and the overwhelming joy of seeing her again. Seeing them again.

Aria clung to me the entire time, refusing to let go even after we left the arena. Every time I tried to pass her off to her aunt, she just tightened her grip around my neck, mumbling, “I missed you too much.”

I wasn’t gonna fight her on it. I missed her too.

Now, after a well needed shower, the little girl was curled up against my chest, completely knocked out, her tiny fingers still clutching the front of my hoodie like she was scared I’d disappear again.

I glanced over at the love of my life—because that’s what she was, no doubt about it—as she set her bag down by the door, stretching out her arms with a soft groan.

“You look dead,” I teased, my voice barely above a whisper.

She shot me a tired glare, but the small smile on her lips told me she wasn’t really mad. “I feel dead. That flight, the sneaking around, wrangling her—” she gestured at the sleeping child nestled in my arms. “I deserve a medal.”

I laughed, adjusting Aria slightly so she wouldn’t slip. “You deserve a lot more than that.”

Her expression softened, and she stepped closer, reaching out to brush a stray curl from Aria’s forehead. “She missed you like crazy, you know.”

“I missed her too,” I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Aria’s head.

Her eyes flickered to mine, something unreadable in them. “And me?”

I smirked, tilting my head slightly. “You? Who’s that?”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh, okay. That’s how we’re playing this?”

I bit my lip to hold back a laugh, but the playful glare she shot me made it impossible. “Come here,” I said softly, and the teasing faded from her face.

She stepped between my legs, resting her hands on my shoulders as I pulled her closer with one arm, the other still supporting Aria.

“You know I missed you,” I murmured, letting my forehead rest against hers.

Her breath hitched, and I could feel the weight of the months apart in the way she exhaled, like she was finally letting herself breathe again.

“I hate being away from you,” she admitted quietly. “I hated every second of it.”

I tightened my hold on her waist, pressing my lips to her temple. “Then don’t be.”

Her fingers dug into the fabric of my hoodie. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “You said you wanted to stay. So stay. I don’t care how we make it work—I just know I don’t wanna go another night without you.”

She swallowed hard, searching my face like she was trying to memorize every detail. “Paige…”

“I’m serious.” I brushed my thumb over her cheek, letting myself get lost in her warmth. “I love you. I don’t wanna keep doing this long-distance thing when we both know where this is going.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she let out a shaky laugh. “And where’s that?”

I gave her a knowing look. “Where do you think?”

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes flickering between mine, and I could see the exact moment she realized I meant every word.

“You mean—”

“I mean,” I cut her off gently, “that I see forever when I look at you.”

Her face crumbled, and she let out a soft, shaky breath before pressing her lips to mine. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—just right. Just home.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against mine, and she whispered, “I see forever with you too.”

I smiled, feeling something settle deep in my chest. “Good.”

A tiny, sleepy voice suddenly mumbled between us.

“Paige?”

We both froze before glancing down. Aria stirred slightly, blinking up at me with half-lidded eyes.

“Yeah, munchkin?”

Her tiny hand reached up to touch my cheek, her voice drowsy. “Don’t go away again.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, holding her just a little bit closer. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

She sighed contently, snuggling deeper into my hoodie.

I glanced at the love of my life, who was watching us with nothing but pure adoration in her eyes.

Home wasn’t a place. It was this. It was her. It was the sleepy little girl in my arms, the steady heartbeat against mine, and the unspoken promise that we’d never have to say goodbye again.

I had everything I needed right here.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[bootycallin]

since the oscar’s literally js happened i thought of something. cw: fingering (r! receiving), cunnilingus (r! receiving), swearing ig, a lil titty play. written w modern! vi in mind for obvious reasons. not proofread.

“vi… vi!”

you spoke between giggles as vi attacked your chest, kissing your tits, sucking on your nipples. you had jokingly said that if you two’s favorite actress won, you would make love. and, if she lost, you’d fuck. well, you’re in luck.

“terms of service,” she groaned, kissing your sternum, groaning softly. her palm is rubbing your cunt over your little shorts. she was more than a little eager, and stressed, as the awarding went on and on and that damned actress got nothing. she knew you were joking, but she was already horny and prepared the strap.

“vi—vi, she didn’t even get best actress!”

“don’t fucking care,” she grumbled, shutting you up with a kiss, hand slipping under your bottoms and rubbing at your clit. she had already seen you didn’t have panties on. every other minute of the celebration, you were looking sideways at her, teasing. she’s never watching any awards with you, ’cause this is hell.

she swallows your moan, two fingers slipping into your pussy with the ease. you’re so wet, so easy. how is she supposed to wait any longer?

“fuck, she won, right?” she asks, lowering herself till she was between your legs, already in the process of pulling your shorts down. “right?”

“she didn’t even—ah,” you gasp as her tongue licks right over your clit. “she didn’t even get up there y-yet…”

“but her movie won, right?” she didn’t give you time to answer, sucking strong on your clit, kissing and licking the puffy member like she was making out with your cunt. she might as well have been. her fingers are relentless, scissoring you open, until yet another finger fits in, curling up against that spongy spot deep inside you. she fingers and sucks on your cunt, your folds, licking a stripe up the slit. it’s practically worshipful, your pussy a temple for her. she’s drunk off the way you taste alone.

she notices your eyes are fixated on her, and stops just to say, “keep watchin’.”

“vi…”

you turned your head to the tv, shaky sighs and moans escaping you. how long did these speeches even last? she had been down there for five minutes tops and you were already building up to an orgasm. your neighbors would definitely be complaining.

“shit, vi—“ her fingers curled up just a little bit rougher. she practically growls as she sucks on your clit, rough, eyebrows knit together in concentration. it taken a few more thrusts of her fingers and suctions of her tongue before you’re cumming right on her face, to which she just removes her fingers and mouth from you. you whined at the sudden loss of stimulation, pulling a grin from her, as she just shoves her tongue into your hole, tasting your release.

“ah-shit, vi…!” you moaned, giggled all the same, head thrown back, one hand in her hair to keep her close. she doesn’t stop until your thighs close around her, nearly suffocating. she wrenches them apart with her hands, pulling away from your puffy, abused cunt—not before kissing your clit, tongue and all.

her lips crash against yours immediately. you can taste yourself on her. only parting to lick her fingers, she kisses you again, just to make sure you can taste all of her, all of you. one hand on your nape, yours tangled in her hair, moaning and groaning reverberating, until…

“she lost best actress,” you said, breathlessly, both looking at the tv simultaneously. she shrugged.

“it’s a win-win, then.”

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[daddysl1ttl3toy3]

Daddy’s play time Part 1: Daddy told me I could play on the Xbox while he went to the shows but I might have to come off when he’s home. But when he got home he sat right behind me on the sofa and watched me play asking questions about what I was doing. Daddy said that I could play more often because I was so good but that I could only play if he was there to help me if I got stuck… well I did get stuck and turned around to see if daddy could help me and when I did I saw that he was wearing the same as me just a top and underwear. “It’s so hot today isn’t daddy” I giggled while asking for his help. “It sure is baby girl” daddy replied as he removed his hand from his boxers and grabbed the controller from me to help me on the bit I was stuck on. As he handed back the controller he said “you’re sitting too close to that screen baby you need to move back a bit.” I shuffled back a little “no baby right back here” daddy said as he grabbed my waist and pulled me back lining my Princess parts up with his but leaving a small gap so he could still see everything. The way he pulled me caused the fabric in my panties to bunch in my mound and show off every fold and bump perfectly. I giggled and said “okay daddy” as I continued to play daddy continued to play too although I didn’t know what he was doing as I wiggled and squired around trying to beat each lever and quest in the game it didn’t take long before daddy said “if you’re getting too hot you can always take some clothes off” I didn’t know but the heating was on full blast and the sun was breaking down on the big bay window “thank you daddy it is too hot” I took off my top but left my panties on exposing my delicate skin and bare perky little tits. Daddy took his top off too and continued to play with himself. About an hour passed and now sweat was starting to bead all over my body. Daddy said carefully, “baby girl I’m sorry but daddy needs to take his boxers off it’s too hot is that okay?” I nodded not really listening and then heard him say “do you need me to taken your panties off you too?” I nodded still focusing on my game as daddy peaked my panties off and began using them to jerk his hard cock admiring my pussy in detail close up for the first time. My legs slowly started to spread wider as I played exposing my glistening little pussy and tight little ass hole to daddy beautifully as daddy continued to jerk his hard cock into my damp panties in became too much as he wrapped the panties around the tip of his cock he exploded into them shooting his load filling and staining them with his juices. After that he grabbed the other controller and started playing the game with me for a little bit his hands resting on my ass then as he started to get hard again from the sight off my legs spread so wide, pussy exposed and glistening with sweat and my juices he got an idea. He leaned back but kept his hands fully outstretched and rested one side of the controller hand grip on my clit the vibrations from the games controller shot through me making a moan rip from my lips as my pussy visibly clenched and juices began flowing out from my tight little hole. Daddy kept the controller there for 30 minutes until I was just a moaning squirming messy little pile in front of him. “Right baby girl daddy wants the play a little game with you and if you do really really well then maybe I’ll take you shopping tomorrow and you can buy anything you want. Here’s the rules. Daddy is going to try and distract you but you have to focus on your game you have to keep playing no matter what. Do you think you can do that?” I giggle and nod excitedly “anything daddy?” I question. Daddy is quick to reply “yes baby I’ll buy you anything but daddy has one hour to distract you so much you drop your controller or you stop playing for a full minute.” I nod and continue playing as daddy starts his fun.

[no-144444]

confronting- o.piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Skyf1interviewer! reader

summary: a confrontation in a hotel room doesn't go so well thanks to Franco's loud mouth...

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Entertaining the idea of dating Oscar when you knew you’d be gone at the end of the season wasn’t fair. He deserved someone who’d be there for every race, be there for him. You weren’t that person. You weren’t the person anyone should want, you just weren’t like that. 

Qatar rolled around and Oscar won the Sprint, and he was P3 in the race. You were meant to do the interviews. He knew that. That’s why he frowned when he was met with Jenson’s face at the end of the race. 

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, not holding the microphone up to his mouth. 

Jenson smirked. “Missing her?”

Oscar nodded. 

“She’s with Franco, he was pretty upset after the crash.”

“Oh,” he nodded, and the interview began. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

It’s not like you were trying to avoid him, it was just… easier that way. And Franco really was quite shaken after the crash, so that part wasn’t a lie either. You just didn’t want to deal with all of the shit the media and people online would give the two of you. You just wanted a nice, clean break from the world of F1, and the people online who shipped you and Oscar would never let that happen. It was upsetting, because he really was a good friend to you, and you thought you were a good friend to him. Maybe it could’ve been something else, if things were different. You sat with Franco, calming him down since he was pretty upset that his second last race of the season was fucked by a silly turn-one incident. 

“What’s going on with you and that model?” you asked. He chuckled. 

“Oh my, you saw it too? It’s so embarrassing,” he sighed. “Even my mother has been asking me about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” you laughed at his reaction. “We can talk about anything you want.”

“What’s going on with you and Oscar?” he smirked and your face fell slightly. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “We’re friends.”

“Friends?” he pried. “You two seem like more than ‘friends’ to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re not. We’re just friends,” you assured him. 

Franco sat up, leaning closer to you. He was so close his breath was on your cheek, his eyes staring longingly into yours. You knew what he was doing.  “So he wouldn’t mind it if someone kissed you, no?”

You laughed, pushing him back down to his previous position of lying down. “Stop being weird. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He shouldn’t care anyway.”

“Let’s test that,” Franco challenged. “Kiss me in front of him, and then we’ll know. I’ll ask Lando to tell me about it, they’re close, right?”

You sighed, something about it felt a little bit… manipulative. And it’s not like you were looking for Oscar to like you back, he didn’t. That’s what he’d said the last time, it was only a joke, a prank, a mistake. Which was fine with you, of course. It made sense. You couldn’t be there for him while you were supposed to be there for someone else. Someone else on his team. 

Ok, so maybe the move to Indycar isn’t just about Sky starting to cover it. Maybe, they need more European fans, and you have to go over there and sell it to them with a relationship with Pato O’Ward. Maybe McLaren is paying you a lot of money to do that. 

Just maybe though. 

“I can’t do that Franco,” you explained. “It’s not fair. And anyways, I’m kind of… seeing someone.”

“Is it Oscar?!” he questioned. You shook your head. “Lando? Lance? Zhou? Yuki? Who?” “He’s not in F1!” you giggled, watching as Franco freaked out. 

“Who is he?! You have to tell me right now!” he begged, taking your hands. 

“He’s in Indycar, that’s all I’ll tell you,” you smirked and his jaw dropped. 

“Is that why you’re leaving?!” he almost shouted. 

“No! Sky really is just branching out, but yes, it is nice that I’ll actually be able to watch his races,” you chuckled. 

“I’ll miss you,” he frowned. 

“I’ll miss you too,” you chuckled, pulling him in for a hug. “Now, I have to go do my post-race duties, so I’ll see you in Abu Dhabi, alright?”

He frowned even deeper. “Alright,” he mumbled. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me!”

You left the Williams garage with a smile on your face, very much amused by your conversation with Franco. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You pulled up to the media pen, really to meet with Jenson and Nico, your co-hosts this weekend, but they were nowhere to be seen. Regardless, you prepared yourself with the running order. 

Lance, Lando, Max, Checo, Zhou, and Fernando. That’s all you had to get through before you got on a flight to Abu Dhabi the next morning. After another few minutes of waiting, Nico and Jenson showed up, acting slightly strange. They weren't really speaking to you, only with each other. It’s not like they were excluding you, just… not asking for your input. They seemed guilty too. 

Lance, Lando, Max, and Checo were all fine, polite and out of there quickly. Oscar didn’t show up. Unsurprising, as you had been avoiding him. Zhou and Fernando went by in a flash, and you were back to your hotel by 2am. 

When you walked into your hotel, you were not expecting to see Oscar Piastri standing outside your door. 

Holy shit. You were so astronomically fucked. 

“What are you doing here?” you questioned. He turned to you. 

He cleared his throat. He’d been thinking of a response to that question since the second he’d started waiting outside for you. What was he doing? This was insane. His plan was to make you stay, but he was much too upset to talk rationally when he got the text from Franco about you seeing an Indycar driver. Honestly, it crushed him. He genuinely thought you’d liked him. “I wanted to… talk? Or something, just to gauge what the fuck is going on here,” he was getting heated, and you understood he was probably angry with you, and it’s not like he didn’t have a reason. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, opening your hotel room door and letting him inside. 

“You’re going to Indycar?” he questioned. “What the fuck?”  

You gulped, hard. “Yeah?” 

“Why?” he demanded. “What does Indycar have that F1 doesn’t? F1 is faster cars, faster drivers, more money, more races, more countries, more-”

“Oscar! Did it ever occur to you that this wasn’t my fucking choice?!” you shouted over him. Silence. “Indycar doesn’t have Sky coverage, but Europeans are interested in the sport and they need a known interviewer to go there and make it easier to sell it to people, and I got picked. That’s it.” 

“So it has nothing to do with whatever Indycar driver you’re fucking?” he scoffed. Your face fell. Your eyes fell to the hardwood floor beneath your feet. “Yeah, I know.”

Your face soured and you looked up again, offended. Who did he think he was? He had no say in your life at all. You’d hated him for 2 years, and you had no real reason to, now you had one. “I owe you nothing Oscar. I’m an adult in a consenting relationship, and yes he’s in Indycar, is that a crime?” 

“Is that why you’re going over there?” he asked, stepping closer to you. You could cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife. “Or are you running away from something here?” 

“Fuck you,” you pushed him back. This wasn't the Oscar you knew. He was different, angry, mean, and rude. You owed him nothing. “Get out.” 

He nodded, and left without another word. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

taglist:

@anotherapollokid @chelseyyouraverageluigi @suns3treading @patis643 @trees-are-books @stressed-cherry @revrse @awenthealchemist @imdyinghelpplease @successfulgarlic81

[wonkizz]

blossom of a flower

in which: you post yourself doing a sexy choreo for the first time ever and it makes enhypen feel…hot and heavy.

엔하이픈 x fem reader genre: highly suggestive warn: very suggestive language, flirting, usage of pet names, cursing, reader can be picked up in riki’s

now playing ▶️ : dance for you by beyoncé

희승

you had posted it on purpose, knowing your boyfriend had your post notifications on. no caption, just the video alone.

you were currently apart, you at your own practice while heeseung was at his. although it wasn’t long before he called you.

“hello,” you answered, trying not to giggle as you heard his harsh breathing on the other end of the phone.

“you’re fucking crazy, you know that?” he says, not even waiting for you to answer before going on a spiel.

“i know you and i know you did that on purpose, knowing we’d be apart. im not there to tease you. not there to tell you how well you did, how good you looked. i can only imagine what was going through your head doing that. was it me? were you thinking of me, baby?”

“i’m always thinking of you hee,” you respond, feeling the temperature in the room get 10x hotter than it already was.

“just wait until later, i’ll give you all the attention you’re probably craving right now.”

종성

your background in hip hop made the genre of dance very easy for you to do and accomplish. jay always praised you whenever you posted a new video of you doing choreo, complimenting you moves. though you had never done something like this.

you decided you wanted to expand your horizons and give another type of dance a try. you didn’t tell jay, wanting it to be a surprise for him as well as your fans.

when you posted it with him right next to you, watching as he got the notification, you gauged his reaction. his eyes widened hearing the song and its lyrics, but his eyes followed you on the screen, watching you move across it in ways he didn’t know you could move.

as the video finished, jay didn’t move nor speak for a moment.

you finally chose to break the ice, “so, what’d you think?”

“i think i have a problem and only you can solve it,” he says, tossing his phone aside, grabbing your hand and leading you to the bedroom.

재윤

jake was your biggest hype man. nobody did it for you like him.

whenever you posted a new video showcasing your talents, he’d be the first one to text you, complimenting you on how good you are.

this time though, when you posted, your phone was eerily dry in terms of texts from him.

you sat on your shared couch, confused as to why he hadn’t texted. did he not like it? was he angry you had posted something like that?

the door suddenly swung open, showing an out of breath jake, sweating like he’d just ran a marathon.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, immediately concerned.

you get up, vying for the kitchen to get him some water when a hand grabs you from behind, turns you around and lips crash onto yours.

the kiss is heated and you can barely keep up as jake moves hurriedly, discarding every piece of clothing he can reach.

“do you know how fucking crazy it drove me seeing you move like that. i had to run out of practice before anyone saw how hard i was.”

성훈

sunghoon was in the dorm when you sent him the link.

“tell me what you think 😘” you had said.

and he watched it, not knowing what to expect.

but the way he immediately got hard was astronomical. he had to use a pillow to cover himself before anyone could see.

“get over here immediately.” he texted back.

you arrived 10 minutes later, jolly with yourself.

the others had thankfully retreated to their rooms, not there to witness sunghoon’s embarrassment. he practically dragged you to his room, throwing you onto his bed and locking the door.

“you think you’re so fucking funny huh?”

you laid there, pleased with yourself if the smile on your face said anything, “i think i’m pretty much a comedian.”

sunghoon started undoing the tie on his sweats, “i’ll show you funny, sweetheart.”

선우

sunoo was also very big on supporting you. he always did his best to show you love and affection, cheering you on with everything you did. this time was no different. he texted you almost immediately after you had posted the video, giving you a live reaction.

“omg im watching it now.”

“okay, love the song choice”

“ohhh this is different for you!!”

“how do you move like that, seriously??”

and then it was quiet for a few minutes.

“are you okay?” you had texted, worried something had happened.

the text bubble popped up immediately and you couldn’t help but laugh at his next text.

“i’m okay, but im hard and horny now :( how could you do this to me?”

“do you need me to come help you?”

“yes please.”

정원

you and jungwon danced together frequently.

today you decided to show him a new choreo you had learned with your choreographer. he was excited of course, always ready to see whatever it was you wanted to show him.

what he wasn’t expecting was the loud bass and slow melody to come out of the speakers.

nor was he expecting the way you moved to the floor. the way you moved…how else could he describe it other than enticing and absolutely beautiful? by the time you finished, he had to wipe the drool that had escaped his mouth.

you walked up to him, laughing at his shocked face, knowing this was something you’d never done before. something he’d never seen before.

“so, what’d you think?”

jungwon had to take a second to think about his next words. he got up, going to the door of the practice room, locking it.

he came back to you, “i think i need you right now and i can’t wait until we’re back home.”

니키

riki was in the bedroom, getting ready to go out with the guys while you were sat in the living room.

you posted the video on purpose of course, your intention to make him stay home with you, without words of course.

within seconds, you could heard the video playing from the bedroom. you giggled to yourself, praying your plan worked.

you thought it would end after one play, but then you heard it play three more times.

is he good? you thought to yourself, but not getting up to check on him.

suddenly, he came out of the bedroom, phone in hand, video playing again for a fourth time, half dressed by the way.

“if you wanted me to stay home, you could’ve just asked,” he said, smirking at you.

you shrugged your shoulders, “maybe i just needed a reason to post the video.”

riki suddenly ditched his phone in favor of picking you up off the couch and carrying you to the bedroom as you laughed.

“we’ll see how much you’re laughing by time i’m done with you.”

WONKIZZ 2025

note: i got kinda lazy as we went so pls ignore that :/ i hope u enjoy anyway andddd yeah hehe

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭“Smile for the Camera!” - Suguru Geto

Synopsis: one night really does change all - where you meet a hefty porn director Suguru and in the process of misunderstandings, you end up in his office, in the cutest maid suit.

— word count: 4.5k (i am sorry i just dk how to stop and how to start)

— a/n: this had been in my wip for so long lmao - it feels a little rushed to me but i'm also a bit rusty since it's been a while so yes lol @indiewritesxoxo you'd asked for a tag so😭hope you do like

— warnings: MDNI!!Fem Reader!! slightly manipulative! suguru, i tried to make him as gentle as i could; dumbification(?); camera; soft!dom geto; very botched representation of the porn industry; i have nothing against porn actors; masturbation; dressing up; Suguru is bisexual here, so is Satoru; reader has fem clothing; leashes and stuff; humiliation; praise kink: oral (fem rec)

The two men sat pretty and sprawled, Suguru Geto, head director of the freefuckforall website, along with Satoru Gojo, the website's longest running and most loyal actor.

“The industry is getting boring,” Satoru rolled his head, eyes closed, words directed towards his best friend who sat across from him on the couch.

Suguru only smirked, eyes stuck and watching every moving slide with lucrative detail - “I’ve been telling you, start filming sex with men, you already have it - just film it, more money, more opportunity,”

Satoru only giggled to himself - the boyish nature somehow suiting his towering self, "you know i have a different sort of fanbase - full of perverts who like seeing me fill up a cunt,"

He popped in his mouth the last of his grapes, eyes hazy as he looked at Suguru, “besides, what for? To fulfill your wretched fantasies? You already act as half a cuck anyways,” 

Suguru snorted along, shutting his laptop then and getting up to stretch, “a. develop a new fanbase then, those who'd like watching you get your ass stuffed, b. someone has to edit and direct, no? Lest you want people to see all the clips where you lie all fucked out - which would fall in common with your new style if you try it,”

The story was so fresh in both their heads - that one time Satoru had been reduced from his cocky self to a pleading and begging mess as the girl rode him - it took a lot of convincing (read: sex and treats) from Satoru before Suguru agreed to keep his ego intact.

Satoru just pouted, reaching over to grab Suguru’s share of snacks - having finished his own, “that was one time - and that girl was such an amateur, just started going at it suddenly,” 

“And the might Satoru, the amazing porn star couldn’t take it,” Suguru teased, his voice a low drawl, “but eh, it’s true, i don’t have fun filming the same shit over and over myself - it’s all repetitive,”

“Any new projects then?” Satoru asked, popping a grape in his mouth, Suguru grinned and shook his head - “not for you, but...I’ve got this new chick, she’s cute,” 

Satory raised a brow now, “cute like…date cute or cute like new fuck and more bucks?”

“Both,” Suguru grinned, “met her last night, at a party - seemed a little slow at first, she was awfully innocent,” he laughed, and Satoru did too.

“So the corruption kind huh,” 

They laughed again.

“I called her for a meeting today, said she had a dream for modelling, wanted a breakthrough in the industry - well, not this industry but..yeah,”

Satoru smirked, “you lied? How’d ya’ get her to agree?”

But Satoru knew all too well how Suguru got girls to agree, especially your kind - a few smiles, a few drinks, a little back story about himself and a little attention sprinkled, as gentle as he could be, Satoru really couldn’t remember any girl who had denied him a second date.

“Didn’t lie or nothin’...just told her i’m a director, we shoot a bit…unorthodox but it is what it is and makes good money, she couldn’t see an issue there,” he laughed.

Satoru did too - it wasn’t a lie, nor the truth.

“When’s she coming?”

Suguru checked his watch, smirked, “15 minutes, better get going then,” he grabbed his phone and laptop, ready to reach his office.

“And when would she really come?” Satoru egged on, with a grin. “Well they usually get wet by the time the camera begins anyway so…” Suguru grinned as he stepped out of the lounge and towards his office, where you were already seated.

-

The buzz felt alive, it made him feel alive.

Another wink to some girl he’d been gazing at - another sleazy line whispered in the ear of a boy who’d been grinding against him all night, none would accompany him to his mansion, he revelled in that itself.

Suguru focused on a waving hand - Shoko’s, he smiled softly at her, striding over to her, “yes ma’am?” he grinned, watching her down her drink.

“Wanna meet someone?” she said simply - a little flicker of a smile on her face. “Like a date?” he asked, before following her regardless, he knew better than to question.

And that’s where he saw you, a sight, he deemed you instantly.

A mini skirt you’d on, and a little top - just a tease - clearly out of your zone as you sipped on your-whatever-drink, eyes instead, drinking into the crowd, obviously searching for Shoko.

“Her?” Suguru asked, leaning down to Shoko’s ear, “sure?” 

A hint of worry seeped into his voice - girls like you often proved to be tough to work with, a little silly, always nervous around his work space and huge cry-babies.

Shoko grinned in response - she’d been tasked weeks ago to find Suguru a new girl for his pieces, a new face, some new energy to spice things up.

What he hadn’t expected was that she’d find someone so…inexperienced with his workspace, clearly.

Well, of course Suguru could tell who was and wasn’t - the director in him was keen, very keen — he saw money shots before one could even consider one.

And just like that, introduced to Suguru Geto you were, a nervous smile, yours and a smirk, his.

-

One drink, three and then a total of five, the bartender merely glanced up as he passed suguru’s bill to him, you sat beside him, all giggly now.

“How much do i…?” you slurred - a grin on your face, Suguru chuckled, “don’t worry darlin’ - got ya’ covered,”

You smiled wide at that, “you’re so nice - at first i was scared of you,” you confessed innocently, promptly, making his grin almost wolfish now.

“Tell me,” he nudged, hand leading you through the crowd so gently, to a secluded spot in the club, to the couch, “what did you think, hm?” 

His voice was smooth, his touch smoother - comforting and yet, you’d felt on the edge the entire night.

And yet, Suguru had nothing but sweet all night, not a single touch that went wrong, not a single gaze that was lifted wrong - just a long ear offered as you spoke and spoke, about work and life, obviously you'd needed this little escape.

Shoko has been gone ever since she introduced you to this gentleman.

“I thought…I thought…” you slowly had your eyes meet his, a flicker of confusion in them now, “i’m still thinking, what do you…do?” you asked - rightfully so - even if you did jump the conversation all too sudden for his taste.

Something he'd been avoiding all night, respite the true intentions of this meeting.

However, You’d bared your days and nights already - a huge mouth that you had, all under the drink of course, otherwise, the sober you was biting your lip beside him so hard that he was afraid you’d bleed.

And all you’d learned about him was that he was named Suguru Geto, and his friend was Shoko, all details shared by Shoko.

Suguru smiled, considering how much to share, “I’m a director,” he mused, watching your eyes widen, “yeah? I always wanted to become a model,” your tone was almost excited,  “what kinda’ director?” you asked next, he shrugged casually.

“Here and there, ya’know?”

You shook your head in a no, he smiled softly and slowly helped you out of the club, it was getting late anyways.

-

You both stood outside, his car was right there in the parking.

“Rather have me drive you home doll? Or do I get you an uber? Whatever makes you feel better but…” his words trailed off as your fingers tugged at him partially from the cold and partially from the many people lined outside the club, “...i think it’s better i drop you, yeah?”

And so, that’s what he did - civic duty? Maybe; Did he find you adorable and wanted to hear you talk more? Definitely.

As you climbed in his car, he hummed - mind unsure but he didn't want to let the shtick drop just yet, “you asked what kinda’ director, yeah?”

You nodded in your seat, as he fixed your seat belt, hands brushing against your plush skin, you licked your lips at the contact, he did too.

“Well, it is a bit…unorthodox,” he said, lips pursed, debating if it was okay - if he wanted to drag you in, “how desperate are you, to be in the industry doll?”

He asked softly, as the car revved, somehow you felt your cheeks heating up, “uhm…it’s like…a dream, i - well, not very ambitious but…if a chance,” you stammered out, he couldn’t help but chuckle, deepening the warmth you felt.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said as he nodded to the directions you gave him for your house, “why don’t you drop by at my office tomorrow hm? You can come, see the work and all, and if you are interested, why not? Shoko will have you filled in with the details, yeah?”

You could only nod, after all, this gentleman wouldn’t be an issue, right?

-

A deep breath inhaled, a lot of regret exhaled.

You flinched every time you heard footsteps approaching, you recoiled every time a moan sounded out from one of the adjacent rooms.

You were officially in a porn-making-building-or-whatever-those-are, wearing the shortest, sluttiest outfit you ever had on - the little maid suit that Shoko had handed you right as you left the house.

“Don’t peek, it’s a surprise,” she’d reminded, and you just complied - like an idiot.

Because now, seated in this dingy office that you were, posters of porn-actresses and actors, you were sure you’d seen some of them a couple of times yourself - until, your eyes panned to the logo of the website in the corner of one of them.

Officially in the office of the biggest porn website - all because a stranger asked you to.

The previous night was fresh in your eyes - well, not really, but the regret was.

What were you even thinking? Letting a random man drive you? Coming to meet him? Talking to him about your work and life?

Perhaps, nothing.

What were you thinking when the said man actually walked into his office? With his busy footsteps and a gaze that meant business now, last night you’d thought everything else - with his charming face and laptop which would essentially also hold your file in a while?

Nothing, you really couldn’t fathom a single thought to be exact.

“Ms….l/n, is it?” he read from his sheet - pretense - yours was the only appointment he’d scheduled for that day, cancelling all others. He didn’t bother eyeing you properly, but he knew well, about how enticing you did look.

He smiled, the same smile, more twisted now, “why hello, nice seeing your pretty self again,” he said with a grin, you could only nod.

You let a small silence etch between the two of you, unacceptable, Suguru opened his laptop promptly.

“How was the ride over? All comfortable? My…” he said in almost disdain, “you haven’t even been offered water? How long have you been-”

“-why didn’t you tell me it is all this?”

The disgust was so evident in your voice, he almost felt bad.

Almost.

He hummed, “I did mention it is unorthodox…”

“How dare you assume i’m into all this - what the fuck?” you muttered, ashamed by just entertaining the thought of you being a pornstar.

“Assume what? That you would want to work in the porn industry?” he smirked, all business now, “you really can’t tell with people and then,” he rolled the cuffs of his shirt’s sleeves now, “the innocent ones like you are often the biggest whores,”

He seemed amused, you seemed tense.

You huffed, “fucking whatever - i don��t…i’m not the kind of girl… and - and this dress? Goodness it is so…” a scowl on your face finished the rest.

Suguru couldn’t blame you.

Geto shrugged, a hand raised, gesturing to the door, “very well then, you can always walk out, i understand, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea…” 

All bluff, the confidence, the flair, all bluff - he wanted you, ever since last night.

You got up, right on cue, all bluff as well, you wanted to play the gamble.

“It’s a shame…” Suguru mumbled, “shame indeed,” you did too.

His eyes narrowed as you turned, eyes dipping then to take an appreciative glance at your ass, “tell you what?” He took a deep breath.

It felt desperate, it was.

“Let me take your profiles, yeah? You’ll get it for free - by a professional of course, just compensation for all the trouble,” he shot you a smile, you gulped.

“I…i’m not sure…it was - last night, just a lot of babbling, i don’t think i’m cut for…you know? And then this outfit also…”

You weren’t sure how a smile appeared on your lips so easily when you’d been pissed the moment you realised what he’d called you for, but it did.

He shrugged again, “just some pictures doll - and who doesn’t like dressing up, yeah? I’ve got plenty more for you to choose from,” he licked his lips, eyes boring into you, you could only nod.

-

“Tilt your pretty face a little to the right, please,” you gulped, still in that maid outfit - which was now being used to its full potential, the top was half open, you were on a steel chair that felt so cold against your flushed skin, and sitting right under the spotlight - while the director sat behind his camera, not rolling, nothing, just making assessments now.

Your profiles had been done half an hour ago, the photos had been sent too, it was a little job for Suguru, you were so compliant after all, following every instruction to the dot.

Which is why it had been harder for him to resist this.

After the pictures you were served drinks again, all hefty smiles and silly conversations - about porn of course. He told you everything, how he’d shot this shot, how long the process goes, how sweet you look, and how cute you are.

“Why don’t you just show me off once again, yeah? Just…so I can see, take inspiration?”

And ever the generous that you were, ever the charming as he was, somehow, you once again found yourself at a loss for no.

Which was how you’d ended up finally, in this position.

“Press your breasts together please…i want to…ah yes,” he murmured as you did what he asked for, albeit with a gulp, it felt so weird.

In front of a camera, his gaze on your every move, and he sounded so professional, dressed well too. And then there was you, just a built in thong with that dress, the top had a sheer torso, your side boob seemed so tantalising to him.

Your nipples had hardened just as well, it was just so cute, matched with your nervousness.

-

Your top lay now open - still on, after all Suguru wouldn’t ask you to do anything out of your comfort zone, right? On the monitor suguru only watched you fidget with your fingers on your thighs, smoothening the hem of the short dress as if it would help - provide some modesty.

Top open, thighs spread - a sheen of sweat from the small humid room and face hotter than ever - hair messy and eyes now dazed, Suguru had halted with his instructions for the moment, and you -? 

You continued staring at his fingers, thoughts ran rogue - you wondered if he’d ever been on camera himself, if he’d used those skilled hands for something other than recording, if he was anything close to as long and thick as his fingers - you looked away.

shameless.

The room went quieter then, just a slight buzz, Suguru stared at his screen with eyes furrowed, “hm..i don’t know, it’s not working out very well,” he said - tone regretful, your face jocked to the side. “What? …why?” 

Suguru wanted to coo at your simplicity - so bothered, he then got up, “you were correct, it’s not for girls like you,”

Such an insult it seemed, an unknowing pout fell on your lips, you got up too, your shorter frame moving slowly towards Suguru, the skirt was so short and given the humidity, it clung to your curves perfectly now - “can i…” you licked your lips, see? 

You wanted to ask that simply but refrained, too shy of his disappointment and too prude to watch yourself.

And thus the secret of the fact that Suguru was recording nothing of you displaying yourself so shamelessly remained all but a secret.

“I’ll…oh, i’ll do whatever you ask,” you ended up muttering - exactly how he wanted to have you.

“You can’t…” he just muttered, not even trying anymore, just a small smirk as he stared at you - all aware of that raging boner in his pants, hidden only because of the dark, all aware that just a glance down would show your pretty tits, all so aware.

“I can,” you said determined this time, “it’s only for your inspiration…right? And if they do come out good…it might help somewhere,” you licked your lips, now he touched you, your cheek - his hands felt warm, sweaty.

Oh but it would help somewhere indeed.

“You sure doll? Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

It felt patronizing, the smile - the eyes, he knew you  wouldn’t say no, he knew exactly how he’d sprawl you.

“So well…” he sighed deeply and then looked you up and down, “take the blouse off actually, please, go in back to the seat,” he spoke smoothly.

And you did just that.

You sat there - breasts, soft peaks - your gasps softer still, all exposed to his skillful eyes, “atta girl,” he murmured, smiling now - finally.

“Play with yourself - don’t be shy okay? Forget i’m here…”

You licked your lips…play…?

If you’d have told Shoko yesterday that you would be found half naked in the office of a man you’d found about 12 hours ago, she’d laugh in your face.

And so you began, hands cupping your tits, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh, they felt so full now - your face scrunched in focus as you tried to make it appear as sexy as possible.

“Perfect, jus’ like that…” suguru encouraged, a gulp of his own drawn - the camera finally began shooting, he couldn’t help himself after all.

your hands  - all over the swell of your breasts, slender fingers kneading and squeezing the flesh, you massaged them, slowly drawing circles around your nipples. 

“Pinch them,” he ushered from front of you, moving the camera closer now, moving towards you - he could tell with your hesitation, you were still nervous.

Your eyes remained stuck on him, so wide as he moved closer to capture your hardened nipples - “so cute,” he mumbled as you flicked them, “you play with your tits often doll?”

“N–no i…well,” you looked away shyly - only so long, Suguru had his fingers grip your jaw quickly, forcing you to look into the camera.

“Rule no. 1: always face the camera,” you nodded, he patted your cheek with a slight smirk, “go on, maybe imagine me…mm’hmm, imagine i was squeeziin’ those pretty tits, yes…”

He smiled - almost proud as you finally closed your eyes, a soft inhale as your back arched, chest obscenely jutting out - same ministrations, much hotter.

And just when you moaned - he paused the recording, “ok enough of this, get up.”

Swift you moved - feeling the shyness coat you again, he himself placed the camera down momentarily - jogging back to his table to grab you a new fabric, bright pink - shorter, skimpier.

“Wear this now, like it better than the last one?” it was small playboy bunny suit, the little bunny ears gave it away - and the tail of course.

“If it is okay by you, of course…you’re already doing so good,” he drawled and then without a word - his own hands latched t your boobs, pressing them softly - feeling them, “mmhmm, so pretty,” you gasped as he pinched your left nipple.

He continued fondling your boobs - as you stumbled a little, his practiced hand held you tight as he switched between your two boobs perfectly - teasing just so perfectly.

And when he did pull away, his fingers had you so sore - you could practically beg.

“Ready to change?” he added with a small smile - chuckling to himself as your eyes cast him a desperate look - exactly as they all did.

He handed you the costume, eyeing you expectantly, and you looked around - for the changing room.

“Uh…here?” your voice was squeakier than you’d have preferred, he laughed, “well don’t be silly,” he booped your nose then, “it’s a small office for me - of course, no changing room.”

So whatever else remained of your little shame, you pulled that down just as swiftly as you pulled the maid-skirt off, aware of just how Suguru stared.

And he did so with utmost detail, he took not of just how your slick clung to the gusset of the built in panties - of how cute you looked, trying to hide yourself, of pretty your entire body was, of how stiff his pants felt and of how he wanted to absolutely eat you up from how adorable you looked.

And he made a mental note of definitely not posting that recording anywhere.

The bodice of the suit was flattering to say the least - the pesky heart cut out for the breasts barely contained anything, and Suguru made you give him a twirl too, only to watch the little tail bounce on the curve of your ass.

“Now…i want you to get on the floor, all okay?” he asked - not caring any longer, “get down and spread your legs f’me,”

The camera was up once again, capturing every detail, the shiny suit and the way you sprawled out.

“I want you to touch yourself - forget that i’m here or we’re recording, okay? Play with that lil’ cunt for me - please?” he added the please with a little pout - as if it would solve the issue at hand.

“T- touch myself?” you echoed, eyeing him now, “isn’t that…oh it’s…”

“Too much? I get it,” suguru was quick to file in - so easy to make you think otherwise, “as i said…you’re not cut for this,”

You sighed - not wanting to prove him right and closed your eyes, “uh…okay but…fuck, okay,” you caved in, suguru wanted to kiss you deeply to comfort you instantly, to tell you that he would be the only one who got to fuck his fist while watching this recording.

But he didn’t, at the moment at least.

Thus you began again, this time your fingers on your clothed sex, rubbing slow - deliberate circles, eyes closed and mind focusing, the camera was set, Suguru simply sat aside and rubbed his own bulge, muttering little praises for you every minute.

Five minutes in and the shiny pink fabric of the bunny suit had ridden up, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of your inner thighs. Suguru felt his mouth go dry at the sight, his heart pounding in his chest.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "Now, I want you to start rubbing yourself faster through the fabric. Slowly, teasingly. Pretend it's my hand touching you, stroking you, making you feel good."

It was a stretch, using his name to get you off - but he knew it wouldn’t fail, never did.

Suguru watched as your hand moved between your legs repeatedly, fingers brushing faster over the front of the bunny suit. He could see the fabric beginning to dampen, to darken as your arousal grew. The sight made his cock throb, straining against the confines of his pants.

"That's my good girl," he praised, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Keep rubbing yourself, doll. Imagine it's my fingers teasing your pussy, my thumb circling your clit. I want to see you get yourself nice and wet for me."

He watched, enraptured as the camera continued recording, as your fingers moved more deliberately now, rubbing yourself more firmly through the damp fabric. 

Your breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling more rapidly as you lost yourself in the sensation.

"Fuck, you look so sexy like that," Suguru growled, his own hand moving faster to palm his aching cock through his pants. "Don't stop, baby. Keep touching yourself, keep teasing yourself for me. I want to see you get so fucking wet, so ready for me."

Suguru watched, transfixed, as your fingers moved, your hips beginning to rock against your  own touch. 

You dared not to look into the camera - or at suguru, “go on, get yourself to cum for me doll,” he called out - eyeing the way your fingers moved more frantically - eyeing the way your breath was more ragged.

But as the minutes ticked by, Suguru began to sense something was off. 

Your touches - more frantic; breathing - more labored,and  yet the telltale signs of an impending orgasm were nowhere to be seen. Your cheeks were flush with exertion and frustration, brows furrowed as you gritted your teeth.

And just like that, Suguru's patience began to wear thin. 

He had expected you to pick up easily - but obviously, your shyness just got the better of you.

Because here you were, struggling, failing to deliver the intense, authentic performance he craved. Irritation flashed in his purple eyes as he watched you, his grip tightening on the camera mic.

"Fuck, y/n," he called, his voice a low, annoyed rumble. "What's taking so long? You should be done by now doll, not just... come on- don’t toy with yourself halfheartedly."

He watched as you tried to pick up the pace, her fingers moving at a frenzied speed, the wet spot on your bunny suit growing larger, darker. But still, no release came. Suguru clenched his jaw, his cock twitching - begging to be the help you desperately craved.

"Dammit, you're not trying hard enough," he snapped, his patience finally snapping. 

With a harsh curse, Suguru ripped off his headphones and stormed out from behind the camera. He marched over to where you sat, panting and flushed, her fingers still moving weakly between her thighs.

"Enough," he barked, grabbing your wrist and yanking your hand away. "Get your fingers out of there. I'm going to show you how it's done- can’t manage nothing without me, huh?"

You looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of shame grappling back at you -  But there was also a glimmer of excitement, of anticipation, at the thought of Suguru finally taking control.

And as promised Suguru didn't waste any time. He dropped to his knees in front of you, pushing your legs further apart, exposing the soaked crotch of the bunny suit to his hungry gaze. Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against the damp fabric, his tongue laving over your clothed slit.

"Ohhh!" you gasped out loud, your back arching off the floor at the sudden, intense sensation - fingers moving to grip his hair.

Suguru was quick still, to move the crotch of your suit aside - tongue lapping on your slick folds.

Suguru groaned against her, “shit, been thinkin’ bout’ this cunt since last night,” the vibrations of his voice did none but to add to the incredible stimulation. He could taste your arousal through the thin   drenched fabric anyways, but what fun would that be ? he could smell the heady scent of your desire. It spurred him on, making him lick and suck at your clit harder, more insistently.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered, his words muffled against her pussy. "I bet you're just aching to come, aren't you, baby? Desperate for release? See…told ya’ you’re perfect for this,"

He punctuated his words with a hard suck on your clit, making you cry out, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth studio floor. Suguru could feel your thighs beginning to tremble, your hips starting to buck against his mouth as he ate you out with wild abandon.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low, approving growl. "Let go. Come for me. I want to feel you fucking explode in my mouth. Want you on record as you lose yourself."

He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub. 

At the same time, he pushed a finger under the crotch of the bunny suit, rubbing your bare, slick folds, stroking your inner walls.

"Ahhh! Oh god, Suguru!" you choked, your voice echoing off the studio walls. Your body went rigid, muscles locking up as the intense pleasure crested over you. 

Suguru groaned in satisfaction, feeling your juices gushing against his finger, soaking the bunny suit even more. He lapped at you greedily, not letting a single drop of your juices go to waste.

For a minute, neither spoke - as he allowed you to catch your breath - “well, that would make…one hell of a video,” he finally muttered, picking you up along side him, “you okay doll?” he confirmed once, smiling when you nodded.

He sat you down on his chair now - behind the camera as he paused the recording again, “i won’t post it, i just…well, it’s shady but you did say you …i mean,”

You hadn’t known him long - but it felt cute to see him fumble, “it’s okay - i…i liked it,” you said shyly and he grinned - “what will you do with it then?” you asked quietly as he handed you water.

“later use of course…” he chuckled, “you want a copy?” he laughed again when you nodded.

“Say…ready for round two…without that badboy?” he referred to his camera - “with handcuffs and chains maybe?”

You could only giggle at his suggestive eye brow raise.

All of this work is original and entirely my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[annasfantasies]

Snuggles

/Joaquin Torres x fem!reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.

ALL CREDITS GO TO THE AUTHORS OF THE PICTURES

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x fem!reader

Summery: sleepy Joaquin

Warnings: fluff, nicknames (pretty boy, handsome, love, baby, pretty girl)

Word count: idk but it’s short

masterlist

ENGLISH ISN’T MY FIRST LANGUAGE

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.

His sleeping body shifted and tightened his grip around me. My fingers ran through his dark locks. They were soft and still damp from the shower he had earlier. Joaquin was laying on top of me, face buried in the valley between my breasts and probably smile on his lips as he snored quietly.

He got back from a mission few hours ago and wouldn’t leave me alone. Padding behind me all the time like a lost puppy, wearing nothing but sweatpants and every time I’d stop his arms would sneak around me. Not that I’m complaining.

I looked at the digital clock next to the tv. 9:03 pm. “Baby.” I stroked his back causing him to stir and murmur something in mix a of gibberish and Spanish. I chuckled and tried to wake him up again. “My love, wake up.”

“Hmm, ten more minutes” I could barely hear him as he tried to hide in my chest.

“C’mon let’s go to the bed, yeah?” That finally made him perk up, sleep still evident on his face and dump love stuck smile on his lips.

He tilted his head, scanning my face for a second before speaking up. “You’re so pretty.” His hand suddenly landed on my cheek as he caressed me. “My pretty girl.” He whispered once more.

My cheeks must have looked like the reddest apples in the world. I gave him one of my smiles. “Come on, handsome.” I brushed out one of his curls out of his face and cupped his cheeks.

He leaned into my hand and nodded. “Yeah.” I expected him to get up but he remained staring at me without any intention to move.

I giggled and stroked his cheek. “Baby, get up.” I pushed him slightly and he finally got the memo and stood up, pulling me with him.

He automatically wrapped himself around me. “You’re so soft and warm.” He murmured into my neck from behind me.

My hands landed on his and I gave him a peck into his hair before shuffling us into the bedroom.

Once we were tangled under the sheets Joaquin trapped me under his form, throwing his arms and lags around me. He snuggled into the crook of my neck and mumbled. “I missed this.”

I stroked his hair, brushing them out of his face before kissing the crown of his head. “I missed you, pretty boy.”

I could feel him smile against my skin and then giggle. “I love it when you call me that.” And with that he squeezed my body.

“Good night, pretty boy.”

“Good night, pretty girl.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.

A/N: Hi guys! I watched the new Cap movie last week and now I’m in love with Joaquin. This is one of the worst things I’ve ever written but I hope someone enjoyed it.🫶

[damneddamsy]

falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part vi)

summary: Joel's summer is the picture of ease. Until it isn't. It's really just a fuckload of hard work, patience and control.

a/n: hi! here you gooooo! i was kind of going through a really bad writer's block, overthinking a lot, and now here I am - through with this chapter and onto the next! one chapter at a time, everyone! we've got this :)

Summertime rolled into Jackson like a long, slow breath, and with it, the winter blues lifted.

The snow was long gone now, melted into the earth, feeding the rivers, softening the soil. The air had lost its bite, and traded it for something warmer, sweeter. The trees stretched their limbs, green and full, and the town itself seemed to breathe easier.

And Joel, for one, found himself wishing, just this once, that nothing would change. That the warmth would linger. That the sun would keep rising over the valley, spilling golden light across rooftops and filling every corner of his life with a feeling he hadn't let himself believe in for a long time—peace.

He had always loved the heat. He’d spent most of his life in it, the thick Texas sun pressing into his skin, soaking into his bones, of summers thick with cicada songs and the dry crackle of grass underfoot. Jackson didn't have the swelter—not as humid, not as relentless—but damn if he didn’t appreciate the way it felt against his back, the way it painted the world in gold.

And without realizing it, he had started marking the passage of time by more than just the shift in seasons.

By the little things.

By Maya’s laughter, louder and brighter than any sun, when he took her to walk through the first sparkle of fireflies in the front yard. How she had clung to his guiding, balancing fingers, her tiny feet stumbling over the grass, feathery curls bouncing, but she hadn't cared—too caught up in the golden flickers floating in the dusk. Her chubby hands reached out, fingers opening and closing in wonder, taking a tumble into the grass.

“Watch it now. C’mere, baby girl,” Joel had murmured, crouching beside her, cupping her tiny hands in his. “Gotta be real gentle. Or you'll smush the poor basta—bugs. Sorry.”

He had to watch his filthy mouth nowadays, she'd gone into the stage of babbling. You can imagine both their surprise when Maya's first words were, 'ma'. Maybe because he'd said it so much around her, praising her mama, calling her a 'mama's girl'. Yeah, that was on him.

Maya had blinked up at him, her dark eyes wide with understanding, before she turned her attention back to the soft glow drifting in front of her. This time, she didn’t grab. She just watched, waiting, patient.

And when a firefly landed—just for a moment—on her little palm, fluttering its wings, buzzing and blinking, she gasped so hard it turned into a giggle.

Joel chuckled, warmth spreading through his chest. “There you are. See that?” He brushed a kiss against her temple. “Takes a little patience, huh, sweetheart?”

Maya hummed in that distracted way of hers, but Joel barely noticed—because when he glanced toward the house, his breath caught.

Leela was watching them. She sat on the front lawn, cross-legged on a blanket, the faint glow of her old digital camera screen flickering in the dim light. Her hair had grown even longer, softer, strands of it slipping free from behind her ears, catching the wind.

She lifted the camera slowly, tilting her head, and framing the shot. The soft click of the shutter broke the hush of the evening, but she didn’t lower it right away.

It was all in the way she looked at him now that he understood, not like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but like she was starting to believe he wasn’t going anywhere.

And Joel—he was starting to believe it too.

It had taken him long enough. He’d spent decades convincing himself he didn’t deserve something like this. That he was meant for suffering, for loss, for violence. Maybe it had been true once. Maybe there had been no way out of it back then. He'd seen so much—more than any man should. He’d seen summer mornings with Sarah, bright and full of promise. He’d seen endless nights of blood and fire when he was nothing but a raider clawing his way through the world. He’d seen the ragged edges of humanity as he crossed state lines with Ellie and watched life fade in too many eyes. And for years, all he’d done was survive.

A survivor. A raider. A smuggler. A man who had lost too much, done too much. A father again, when he never thought he would be.

But somehow—all of that had led him here.

To a town in the mountains. To a big, white house across the street, he was trying like hell to keep from crumbling. To this woman who grew up in it, who somehow trusted his twisted instinct more than anyone in this town. To a little girl who reached for him when she was sleepy, whose laughter had rooted itself so deep in him he didn’t think he could tear it out if he tried.

Maybe now, now, he finally deserved it.

Sure, there were days when the work was hard. When patience ran thin, old aches settled deep in his bones. That was among the realizations he'd earned before he hit sixty: life was going to come at him hard, and he was going to face it with a fuckload of—

Hard work. Patience. Control.

Hard work had never scared him. He’d spent weeks on this patch of land, Leel's garden, breaking his back, kneeling in the dirt, coaxing life out of the frozen ground. Jackson’s winter had been particularly cruel, leaving the soil brittle and unforgiving. He had planted and re-planted, tested the earth, and tried again. It was the kind of work that made his knees ache, that left his hands raw and sore, but he’d be damned if he let this motherfucker win.

Then Leela had shown up, as she always did, just when he was about to curse this thing to hell.

"This shit's fucked, darlin'," he grunted to her, scowl deep and tools flying behind him. "Just get your food from the store like everyone else."

"You're giving up?" she asked, surprised.

He pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Don't push me, I'm done in as is."

She stood at the edge of the garden, arms crossed, head tilted as she considered his struggle with what could only be mild amusement. Then, without preamble, she pulled something out from behind her legs—a strange-looking contraption, cobbled from old scrap parts, with wires and tubes snaking out of a small metal canister.

"The hell is that?" he asked.

"Your saving grace," she said, adjusting a knob on the side, as if that explained everything. "Condenses moisture from the air and converts it into usable water for the plants. It’ll keep the soil hydrated."

Joel wiped the sweat from his brow, eyeing the thing like it might explode. "Christ, it looks like it's gonna—"

"Fix the garden before you throw your back out again." She set it down, adjusting the tubes. "You're welcome."

He huffed, shaking his head, but there was no bite in it. "Oh, you think you're hot shit."

Leela just laughed, kneeling down to secure the device in place. "Incredible, actually," she admitted, surveying her work. "I should show this to Maria. Work it out on a larger scale for the greenhouses."

Joel exhaled, resting his hands on his hips, grinning down at her. He watched her work, the way her fingers moved deftly, the way she wrinkled her nose in concentration. It was a look he was starting to recognize—the one she got when she let herself care about something. Always thinking about making it work. Always fixing things. How she made everything feel a little less impossible.

Less afraid, is what he would say. Like the walls she'd built around herself weren’t quite so thick anymore. That was mostly Maya, he figured. That baby had knocked the breath out of her, giving her that tangible reality to anchor to.

But some part of him wondered if it was him, too. Hoped, more like. He genuinely hoped.

Now patience... that was another thing entirely. It was never his strong suit. Not before. Not with himself, not with the world. And definitely not with this.

Maya was closing on eight months, and she still hadn’t started to attempt to crawl. Joel had tried. Hard. For weeks, he sat on the floor with her, scattered the toys just out of reach, and made an absolute fool of himself coaxing her forward.

"Come on, baby girl," he'd mutter to me, stretching his hands out, and tapping the mat in front of her. "You got this, honey, it's all in the knees."

Nothing. She’d just blink up at him with those big, brown, knowing eyes, then drop her gaze to something far more interesting—her own fingers, a loose thread on her overalls, the tiny fabric ear of the stuffed rabbit in her lap.

And when she finally did react, it was to lift her arms toward him, her little hands opening and closing, silently demanding to be picked up. No movement.

Joel would sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. "You ain't even tryin’, Maya."

She'd giggle at him, that noise that would've made his whole day if it weren't for the cruelty of the situation.

Leela, of course, found the whole thing funny. “She’ll get there eventually,” she’d say, watching from the couch, one leg tucked beneath her. "You're making it a bigger deal than it is."

But he wanted her to get there. He wanted to see her move, explore, and chase after things the way the other kids did. It would be nice to not go find her in her crib every day, just have her come to greet him at the door. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it didn’t matter in the long run, but Joel wasn’t great at waiting. He never had been.

And then, one day, Maya just—skipped the whole damn thing.

It wasn’t even some big, dramatic moment. There was no warning, no coaxing, no slow buildup. One second, she was on the ground, surrounded by her stuffed animals, gnawing on her own fingers like usual. And the next...

Joel caught movement in the corner of his eye as he lazed back on the couch one afternoon. He almost didn’t believe it at first. His breath stalled, brow furrowing as he lowered the magazine in his hands. The fuck?

Maya was standing. Standing.

Maya was on her feet by the coffee table. Teetering, swaying—somehow balancing, her fingers flexing like she was bracing herself. Her eyes were locked on him, her mouth rounded to that curious 'o', and he swore he saw it—something click into place in that clever, tiny brain of hers.

Then, she moved.

One wobbly foot forward. Then another.

Joel barely had time to push off the couch before she stumbled, catching herself in a squat, then rocking forward, lunging with a squeal—straight into his arms.

His hands came up automatically, steadying her, lifting her up before she could fall. And Jesus Christ, he could hardly breathe.

Maya just grinned at him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. Her legs still twisted off-balance, still getting the hang of it.

Joel let out a stunned breath, then laughed—actually laughed, loud and bright, chest tight with something so big, so full, he thought he might burst.

"You’re my little miracle, baby. Did you just walk?"

He lifted her higher, pressing quick, tiny kisses to the side of her head, barely able to stop himself, overwhelmed with pride, with love. She squealed, giggling, her legs kicking, completely unbothered by the fact that she’d just broken every rule in the parenting books.

Joel kept her close, his nose brushing against her soft curls as he swayed a little, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. His fingers spanned across her tiny back, feeling the rapid, excited little breaths against his chest.

"Look at you," he murmured, pressing another kiss to her temple, softer this time. "My beautiful, brilliant, big girl."

Maya made a triumphant little noise, wriggling in his arms like she wanted down, but he wasn't ready to let go yet. Not yet.

"You really went and did that, huh?" he said, pulling her back just enough to look at her. Her dark eyes were wide and full of mischief, her grin open and still gummy. She lifted her hands, smacking them against his cheeks before babbling something that sounded almost like words.

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, I’m real proud of you, too, sweetheart."

She beamed like she understood. Like she knew what she did was something big. And maybe it was nothing to her. Maybe it was just another thing she figured out, just another step forward.

But for Joel—it was everything.

He tightened his hold, pressing his forehead to hers for a second, just breathing her in. "Ain't nothing gonna stop you now."

Maya just giggled, happy as anything. Then—before he could stop her—she suddenly launched herself backwards, her trust in him so complete that it nearly took him out.

Joel’s heart stopped. "Jesus—alright, okay, I gotcha," he said, catching her easily, pulling her back upright. "Goddamn, baby girl, maybe let’s work up to that, huh?"

Maya, completely unbothered, laughed that wild, open-mouthed laugh like she thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

Joel groaned, shifting her in his arms. "Yeah, you think you're real funny, don't ya?" He pressed another kiss to her cheek. "Gonna be the death of me."

Maya just patted his chest, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, tucking her head beneath his chin, already winding down.

She was Leela's, alright. That genius baby shit, it was all her mama. And patience had actually paid off for the first time in his life.

And when it came to control, that wasn't exactly an issue to him. He was a pro. Control was something Joel had spent a lifetime learning, but damn if it wasn’t tested now.

As summer in Jackson deepened, it was hot, the kind of heat that slowed people down, and sent them ducking into the shade, fanning themselves on porches. The days stretched long, the sky burning orange before it faded into dusky purple.

But Leela, she didn’t soften for anything.

She didn’t even seem to notice how the heat changed things, how it made people shed layers, roll up sleeves, and loosen collars. She was practical and efficient. And oblivious.

Which is why she had no fucking idea what she was doing to him.

It was the afternoon he walked past the garage and caught sight of her. The Maranello was parked inside, the hood lifted, and tools scattered across the workbench. And there she was, elbow-deep in the engine, wielding a turnscrew with the ease of someone who'd done this a hundred times.

And fuck him, but this was hell.

The top she wore had no back. Just thin straps tied at her neck and a bow at the arch of her spine, flimsy printed material clinging to her like it was barely there at all. Her cutoffs were—Christ, barely shorts. She'd obviously grown out of it. Joel was willing to bet there was more fabric in Ellie’s bandanas than what she had on. The denim rode high on her hips, long legs bare, glistening with sweat, sun-warmed and golden in the sunlight.

Joel immediately looked away, eyes darting to the street, checking to see if anyone else was getting an eyeful of her. No one. Dead end, of course. Thank fuck.

And then, just to twist the knife, she called him over. "Joel, can you give me a hand here please?"

Oh, yeah. He could.

He shouldn’t.

But he would.

No matter how much he told himself to walk away, to not look, to not think—he still found himself moving, closing the space between them, bracing for the next hit to his self-control.

"The wrench. Half inch," she asked, absentminded, like she had no idea he was about two seconds away from losing his shit.

Joel blindly reached for the nearest tool—only to realize at the last second that it was a screwdriver.

"Joel," she called again, her brows lifted. "I said wrench."

"Right." He grabbed the wrench and didn't think to check the size before forcing it into her palm, awkwardly clearing his throat. "There you go. Wrench."

She hummed her approval, adjusting her stance, bracing a foot on the frame of the car. And then—

She stretched. Sweet mercy. Gleaming arms raised, body lengthening, the hem of her top lifting just enough to show off the faint line carved down her stomach, the soft, impossible dip above her navel, all that adorable pregnancy belly he'd adored gradually yielded to whatever tormenting hell this was.

Joel swore his vision blurred for a second. It had been too fucking long since he's seen a girl like this, felt what it would do to a man. Especially a girl like her, fine as hell, smart as shit, belonged on a Hustler mag—she was light years out of his league.

The wrench nearly slipped from his fingers, a sharp metal clang against the side of the car.

Leela startled, lowering her arms. "What's wrong?"

Joel cleared his throat again. "Nothin'. The heat is all."

She blinked at him, then glanced at the wrench in his hand. "Are you sure you don't want to lie down for a bit?"

"Peachy," he muttered.

She frowned but let it go, turning back to the engine, her fingers deftly working over the machinery. Joel exhaled, trying—really trying—to shake it off, to focus on anything but the way her top barely clung to her frame, the way the sunlight played in the stray wisps of hair sticking to her temple.

He wasn’t sixteen. Wasn’t some green kid who didn’t know how to keep his damn head straight. But right now? His thoughts weren’t running straight at all. They twisted, turned, caught on little details—the smooth expanse of her back, the dark freckles, the faint curve of her stomach, the way her thick braid draped over one shoulder into the engine, shifting every time she moved.

And then—something else hit him.

She was comfortable. Relaxed.

She was here, standing out in the open, close to him, wearing whatever the hell she wanted, no fear, no hesitance. Sure, it shouldn’t have been a big deal. But it was.

Because he knew what she had been through, just a vestige of it. Knew how easily this could’ve gone another way, how some people never stepped outside without layers of fabric shielding them, without constantly looking over their shoulders. But Leela—she stood here in nothing but a thin top, cut-off denim, and skin kissed golden by the summer sun. Focused. Happy. Unapologetic. Free. Finally.

She had every reason to hide. To shrink herself down, to be small, to disappear. But she hadn’t. And fuck, if he wasn’t proud of her for that. He was goddamned pleased of who she was standing as in front of him today. A fighter.

"Joel?"

His head snapped up. "Yeah."

She was watching him now, eyes questioning, adjusting the strings at her neck. "Is it grease? Where?"

He blinked, needing a second to catch up. There was a smudge—dark against the honeyed warmth of her skin, just by her temple.

"Uh—just there," he muttered, reaching for a rag off the workbench and holding it out.

She took it, swiping at the spot. "Gone?"

Joel let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He stepped closer, reaching out before he could think better of it, catching the stubborn smear near her jaw. He pressed the cloth there, slow and careful, his fingers grazing along the soft curve of her face.

Leela stilled. His hand lingered.

He could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, the faint pulse of her breath. Those parted lips, chapped yet tempting. There wasn't a moment when he was alone that he wasn't thinking about this, why patience and control were just two skank bitches in his life right now.

He pulled back. Cleared his throat. "Gone now."

Leela smiled—soft, effortless, damn near dangerous. Joel exhaled, forcing his focus anywhere but her mouth. That mouth just waiting for his. He was really losing it.

"You uh," he waved vaguely at her, at the whole situation, "you like this kinda stuff?"

She glanced down, playing with the hem of her top, twisting the delicate crochet between her fingers. Then she nodded at him with a carefree smile. Like she really, really had no clue. It was fucking painful now, how she'd truly grown up like a babe in the woods, guileless.

"My mom made a bunch of these for me from an old blanket," she told him, proud. "They're the best."

Joel swallowed hard, rubbing at the back of his neck. Goddamn it. "Yeah. I like 'em, too."

Leela arched a brow, smirking now. "I think you can pull it off."

He narrowed his eyes. "Ha-ha, I forgot how to laugh."

Still grinning, she wiped her hands down on the towel, then reached up and shut the hood with a satisfying clang. She patted it twice, dusting off her palms. "So. Your early birthday present is finally done."

Joel squinted at her. "You're about too many months ahead. And you can't just gift me a damn convertible."

She tapped the hood again, stepping back with that quiet, smug satisfaction he was quickly learning to recognize. "Too late to complain, it's yours. You can take her out for a spin whenever you like. I'll give her a few years until we call it."

He dragged his gaze from her to the car, then back again. Jesus. She really was something else.

He nodded toward her, feeling braver today. "D'you come with the car?"

Leela just laughed, tossing the towel onto the workbench. "More of a solo experience, right? You, the accelerator, and the whole of Jackson."

Joel huffed, shaking his head. He wasn't so sure about that.

And it was nothing, really, this overarching thing between them. That was what he told himself sometimes. It wasn't something they talked about, and gone above board. No you're-mine-I'm-yours-bullshit. It didn't have a name. But they both knew what it was.

Some passing moments. A habit. A reflex. A touch. The first time, she flinched. The second time, she tensed. That was as far as his confidence around her got.

One evening, Leela was in the kitchen, standing at the counter, tying up a bag of flour. A smudge of it dusted the curve of her wrist, stark white against her skin.

Joel had walked in for something—what, he couldn’t even remember now, she just seemed to rob him of sense—but his hand found her shoulder as he passed behind her.

Light. Barely even pressure. Just a touch to let her know he was there, that he was moving past.

His fingers skimmed warm skin, the edge of the bow on that backless top of hers.

She turned, just slightly, just enough that she caught the tail end of his touch as it slipped away.

And this time, she just let it happen. Let him happen. The third time's the charm.

Joel paused. Not for long—just a breath, feeling that rigidness in his muscles, before he kept moving, kept the moment from stretching until she noticed.

It had been months. Months of patient, careful inches. Of her giving just enough room, him taking just enough to not make her pull away. He never let himself ask for more than what she was willing to give, and for a long time, that had been next to nothing.

But lately—lately, it had been more.

A guiding press at her back when they crossed paths in the hall. The little brush of his fingers at her wrist when he handed her Maya. The curve of her waist, the fleeting press of his palm there, when he reached around her in the kitchen. A cheer-up pat on her cheek or gentle ruffle of her hair if she'd been feeling down the whole day. A small goodbye kiss on her forehead before he left for his place, although that had been a fairly recent advancement.

The way she seemed to grow into his touches made him feel like he was finally getting somewhere, like seeing a wound healing from the inside out—gradual and raw.

He turned back to her and watched as she dusted the flour off her hands, fingers dragging down her pants. Her hair was a little messy, a few strands falling loose against her cheek, and she exhaled through her nose, eyes on the counter, murmuring, “Did you need something, Joel? You hungry?”

He blinked. He didn’t, not really. He’d come in here for—hell, he still couldn’t remember. A drink, maybe. Or to check on Maya, who was napping in the other room.

Instead, he was standing here like an idiot, happier than a pig in shit over something as simple as touching her shoulder. And she didn’t even notice.

He cleared his throat. “Nah,” he muttered, eyes flicking away. “Just… came to see you.”

Leela breathed a small laugh. “You're checking my kitchen skills now?”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “More like makin’ sure I don't end up poisoned. Not a great way to go.”

She gasped in mock offence, swiping a bit of flour from the counter and flicking it toward him. Joel stepped back, lips twitching, but not before a dusting of white landed on the front of his shirt.

“Real mature, darlin',” he muttered.

Leela’s smirk deepened, her eyes dragging slow over him, lingering on the flour-streaked fabric. Then, like she meant to do it, she reached out—just a little—and brushed the specks off with the tips of her fingers. Soft. Barely there. Suddenly too aware of the lightest pressure of her touch.

"I promise it's edible," she teased. Then she took a step back, patting her hands together like nothing had happened. "Pecan sandies?"

"Jesus, you're killin' me," he breathed.

Joel shook his head as he forced himself to shift on his feet, to look away, to do something before he forgot how to fucking breathe. He wasn’t gonna make this a thing. Wasn’t gonna linger and make her see whatever was sitting heavy in his chest. But the moment stuck with him anyway.

He didn’t play down the past few months when it came to Leela's maternity either. To how things had changed.

She was different now—maybe not in the big, obvious ways, but in the calm, careful ones. The ones that mattered. She didn’t move like she was bracing for impact anymore, didn’t hesitate before touching Maya, like she was afraid she’d do it wrong or stain her. She held her like she was hers, her greatest effort and creation, and somewhat in love.

She was actually there.

One evening, he came up the stairs after patrol, shoulders aching, boots heavy against the old wood. He was expecting the usual—Maya fussing, Leela humming under her breath as she rocked her warily, quiet and restrained.

But when he reached the nursery, he paused in the doorway. And he listened.

Because, this time, Leela was talking to her daughter. Soft and pensive, her voice weaving through the dim glow of the room, smoothing over the walls like a balm.

Joel leaned against the frame, arms crossing over his chest, and just took it in.

She was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, back against the crib, holding Maya close. Her little fingers were curled into the fabric of her mother's top, dark curls sticking to her forehead.

Leela didn’t even notice him there.

“...I’m from,” he heard her halfway murmur, her thumb brushing absently along Maya’s back, “we had this beach.”

He’d never heard her talk about where she was from before. It was like he was piecing together a puzzle, filling in the blanks she’d never given him before.

“I don’t remember much,” she continued, almost to herself. “I was too young. But I remember the water. The smell of it. How the sand stuck to my skin. The tiny crabs.”

Maya yawned, pressing her face against Leela’s shoulder.

“I used to find seashells every time I went,” she went on, voice dropping to something almost fond. “And I’d poke a hole through them, string them together, and make these necklaces. Tourists used to buy them off me—sometimes for more than they were worth. Ten dirhams, twenty for some.” A small smile played at the edge of her lips. “I thought I was a genius.”

Joel swallowed.

This—this was new. Something she had never shared before.

He could almost see it. The version of her that existed back then, back before she'd come into this home of hers. A little girl on the shore, knees in the sand, sifting through bits of broken shells and sea glass, tucking the best ones into her pockets. That was the part that got him.

"I'll make you one someday," she promised, her lips brushing the crown of Maya’s head. "Just for you."

And Joel just stood there, his grip tightening around the doorframe, that satisfaction warm in him, in a way he didn’t have words for.

But then there were the other moments. The hard ones that came to bite the good ones in the ass.

The times when Maya got too fussy, too inconsolable, when the crying turned into something high-pitched and unrelenting, and Leela just froze up.

As if she didn’t know what to do. Or she wasn’t sure she should do anything. That kind of fear wasn’t what practice fixed. Wasn’t something that just went away with time.

So, Joel was always there to take over.

She’d pass Maya off to him, hands shaking just a little, eyes darting away like she was ashamed. Like she hadn’t spent months loving this little girl in the ways that mattered. Like she was resigning herself to failure.

And Joel would sigh, settling the baby against his chest, rocking her instinctively. He pressed a kiss to her temple, rubbing slow, steady circles against her back.

Maya would calm and Leela would turn away, busying herself elsewhere, relieving her tension with calming breaths.

"You’re doin’ good, mama," Joel would murmur to her, every time, without fail. More than a reassurance, it was a conviction, to remind her that she was still moving forward, right now she'd just hit pause.

Leela let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, shaking her head. "You don’t have to keep saying that."

"Ain’t sayin’ it just to say it," he triumphed.

Joel didn’t push. Didn’t tell her she was wrong, didn’t try to fix it. Because later—when Maya was calm, warm and sleepy again—Leela would come back.

She always did. And she'd try again.

X

Safe to say, at this very moment, Joel was more than content. He could pass on happy, knowing he'd seen this.

That was a rare thing these days, fleeting, it was best to catch that moment before it was gone. But right now—right here—he was.

The night air was warm, laced with the scent of grilled meat and charred corn, the last remnants of the summer morning fading under a lazy evening breeze, the sound of laughter curling up into the sky. They were all sprawled out on the porch, boots propped on railings, chairs tipped back, the easy lull of conversation moving between them.

Tommy had brought out cold beers for everyone, and Ellie was half a bottle in, already on a roll, spilling some wild gossip about a couple in town at top speed.

Joel sat back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. His beer bottle was solid in his palm, condensation slipping down the dark glass.

It was nice, this. Real. Complete.

But, Joel wasn’t really listening to anything. Not with her sitting right there.

Leela had settled a little ways from him, close enough that the light from the porch lamp caught the curve of her shoulder, the way her skin gleamed faintly from the heat of the day. She kept to herself mostly, only chiming in when she needed to, but she was present, body and mind. She was showing up.

A while ago, she wouldn’t have. Would’ve found some excuse, some reason to keep to herself, to slip away before anyone got too close. Now she was right next to him, stealing bites of that spicy sausage off his plate. Tearing a piece apart with her fingers, chewing slowly, licking the oil from her thumb while listening to Ellie.

Without giving it much thought, he reached over, grabbing his plate and leaning forward. He loaded it up—more sausage, a good selection of meats, some of that grilled corn Ellie had raved about earlier—and set it onto her lap.

Leela blinked, looking down, then up at him.

He didn’t bother with anything more, he knew what a single glimpse of that smile would do to him. Just took a sip of his beer.

And for a second—just a second—he let himself think. If things were a little different, if she were more comfortable, if he were more transparent—he’d have her closer. Right up against him, stretched over his lap, arm hanging off his shoulder, laughing with everyone, his palm stroking against the bare skin of her back, brushing lazy kisses wherever he could. Just hose down and be with her. As his.

The thought was so real, that it almost hurt.

So, he pushed that away to focus on Ellie, leaning against the porch railing, who was already mid-story, voice high with amusement. “I’m serious, this guy’s been sneaking out past curfew every single night, and you won’t believe who he’s been meeting—”

“Y'know,” Tommy cut in, tipping his beer toward her, “for someone who breaks curfew at least once a week, you sure got a lot to say about other people doin' it.”

Ellie ignored him. “Anyway, rumour is, he’s been—”

He let her trail off in the background, his attention pulled elsewhere. His eyes were on Maya, who had flat-out refused to stay in anyone’s lap for more than a minute.

The moment they sat down to eat, she’d wriggled free, her little legs determined to carry her across the porch, across the room, across everywhere she could reach. It didn’t seem to matter that she still wobbled on her feet, still stumbled more than she walked. She was going.

Maria chuckled when Maya toddled over to the newspaper stand, babbling the same sound under her breath, gripping the edge before promptly yanking a few pages out. All that curiosity only made her more mischievous.

“Look at her go,” she said, shaking her head. “God, she really is amazing, Leela. I can't believe she’s walking so soon.”

"It's all Joel," Leela deflected easily, waving a hand. "He's been with her all along."

Joel nudged her ankle with his foot, light but firm.

Leela glanced at him, and he shot her a look. There she goes again. Diminishing herself. Like she hadn’t spent these few months, killing herself trying, rocking that girl to sleep, teaching her how to eat with her tiny fingers, soothing every cry, every nightmare.

Joel knew. So he gave her a look that said as much.

Leela rolled her eyes at him, but he caught the twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips before she turned away.

Across the porch, Tommy wiggled his fingers from his chair. “C’mere, sweetheart. Wanna come to Uncle Tommy?”

Maya, still clutching a crumpled newspaper, gave him that big, gummy grin, hands flapping excitedly as she stumbled forward, her legs moving before the rest of her could catch up. All excitement and cute, pink booties that Joel had picked out for her tonight.

Tommy caught her easily, scooping her up with one arm and blowing a loud raspberry against her belly. Her laughter rang out, bright and breathless, tiny hands grasping at his beard.

Maria leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs out in front of her. “You know, she’s gonna start running soon.”

Tommy groaned dramatically, still holding Maya on her hip. She squealed, wriggling against his hold. “Don’t say that, darlin', please. Let me enjoy this wobbly stage before I gotta see Joel huffin’ and puffin’ after her down the street.”

Maria smirked. “Might be good for him. He could use the exercise.”

Joel narrowed his eyes at her, pointing the mouth of his bottle at her. “You wanna say that again, ma'am?”

She threw up her hands, grinning, and mimed zipping her mouth.

Ellie, who had been leaning against the railing, picked at a splinter in the wood before glancing up with a smirk. “Yeah, keep complaining, but Maya’s got more stamina than you fogeys already.”

Tommy scoffed, bouncing Maya once to make her giggle. “I know how much trouble you were, and you were already, what, fourteen when we met you?”

Ellie gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “I am a constant fuckin' delight.”

Maria snorted, shaking her head. “Mhm. A regular ray of sunshine.”

Ellie pointed at Maya. “She gets it. Baby girl's a menace already, I can tell. Future troublemaker in the making.”

Maya, as if proving Ellie’s point, grabbed a fistful of Tommy’s beard and yanked. Tommy let out a strangled noise, drawing out a laugh from everyone.

Joel just sat back, taking it all in. Yeah. This was good. That warmth. The one that came with nights like this. Family. A strange, messy, complicated kind of family. It was the end of the world anyway, even simple was difficult.

When Tommy abruptly stood up, Joel clocked it instantly.

The movement was purposeful, a hasty departure. Tommy adjusted Maya against his hip, bouncing her lightly as she tugged at his collar. But it wasn’t just him standing—it was why. He was obviously staying out of this; smart man.

Joel’s stiffened. Something was coming. Going to happen.

“You need a change, baby girl?” Tommy muttered, though his voice was casual. Too casual. He rubbed at Maya’s back, kissed the top of her dark curls, and then turned toward the house.

No one questioned it. And that was the part that put Joel even more on edge.

Ellie slid into Tommy’s empty seat, dragging her bottle with her. Maria reached over to rub aimless, soothing circles on her back, her expression set, unreadable.

Joel’s grip tightened around his beer. “Alright,” he muttered. “What?”

Maria exhaled. Slow. Then came out with it.

“The distillation system at the dam is busted.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, pressing the bottle to his lips. He took a slow, deliberate sip, letting the words settle, pretending he gave a damn about the cold burn of the beer down his throat.

Maria kept going. “Overheating. Something’s jammed up real bad, and we’re looking at maybe two weeks’ worth of fresh water before we run dry.”

Joel lowered his bottle, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“And?” he asked flatly.

Maria’s gaze flicked to Leela. Leela—who hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, too intent on learning about this issue.

“This is her expertise,” Joel continued, waving a hand. “Get her over there, let her fix it. Problem solved.”

And sure enough, Leela was already straightening up, nodding, looking like she was ready to knuckle down and get to it.

But Maria wasn’t done.

She shifted. “It’s bad,” she admitted. “But—”

Joel set his beer down. There was always a ‘but.’

Maria glanced at Leela again. “That new system you mapped out a while back, the one we didn’t put into place ‘cause of the lightning battery project—”

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He knew where this was going.

Maria looked at him now. Directly. She was shooting this point blank. “We need new parts,” she said. “And no one knows exactly what we need except for you.”

And there it was. The fucking catch.

Joel went completely still. Maria wasn’t asking him anything. She was telling him. And she knew exactly how he was going to react.

Ellie was the first to break the silence. “Yeah, no. That’s a stupid idea.”

Maria turned to her, brows lifting. “Is it?”

“I’m serious.” Ellie sat forward in her chair. “You want her to go out there? For what—some metal scraps? Jesse and I took down a bloater—a fucking bloater, Maria—five days ago, not too far from the lookout point. Jesus, we'll figure something out.”

“Ellie.” Joel’s voice was quiet, but firm.

Ellie clamped her mouth shut, eyes darting to him. But she waited a moment before she went on anyway.

“Then get the list of shit you need and send someone else over,” Ellie snapped. “Me and Joel and someone who—”

“There isn't anyone else,” Maria cut in.

Ellie’s mouth opened again, ready to strike. Then shut. Quietly looked away, jaw tight, seething.

Joel exhaled, finally moving from his stiff stance, elbows on his knees. He stared at the ground. At the dark wooden planks beneath his boots. His thoughts twisted, tangled. He knew one thing. He didn’t like this at all.

Maria sighed, rubbing her temple. “I get it. I do. But we don’t have time to waste. We need this up and running, and no one here has Leela’s knowledge.”

Leela finally spoke. “I'll do it. I can do it.”

That was the last straw. Joel snapped.

He pushed up from his chair, the scrape of his boot loud against the porch floor.

Everyone turned.

He ignored them, muttering, “Need a goddamn drink,” and turned for the house.

The screen door creaked as he pushed through, but he barely heard it slam over the pounding in his ears.

He knew himself. Knew his temper, knew the way it burned low and controlled until it wasn’t—until it came bursting out in a way that never did anyone any good. Knew what he was capable of when it came to this. When it came to her.

So he walked. Put distance between himself and the porch, between Maria’s careful wording, Tommy’s orchestrated retreat, Ellie’s immediate reaction, and Leela’s quiet resolve.

Because he knew exactly what the hell this meant. And he didn’t fucking like it.

"Joel, c'mon!" Ellie tried to call out to him. He wasn't ready for that just yet.

Inside, the house was dim, lantern lights flickering against the walls. The voices from the porch dulled to a murmur, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the words already hammering in his skull.

Joel barely registered Tommy leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him like he’d expected this. Maya was at the coffee table amusing herself, small fingers pushing at a coaster, flipping it up, letting it fall.

Joel blew out a breath, stalked toward the shelf he'd frequented too many times, and grabbed the bottle.

Tommy's speech was coming, he could feel it. But he was in no mood to hear it.

“Joel—”

“No,” he cut in sharply. He yanked out the cork with his teeth and poured himself a glass. “You don’t get to stand there actin’ like this makes sense.”

Tommy sighed. “It does make sense. You just don’t wanna hear it.”

Joel scoffed, shaking his head. “You hear yourself? You really think this is a good idea?”

“We can handle it.”

“We—she’s got a kid. A baby.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “She’s survived on her own for years, man. She knows what she’s going up against.”

Joel slammed the bottle onto the counter. Maya who had wandered over from surface to surface, stood by Tommy's leg now, fist in her mouth, staring up at Joel. His anger faltered for a moment.

“You know that doesn't mean shit,” he whispered instead.

Tommy’s lips pressed into a line, like he wanted to say more, but he held back.

Joel let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You were standin’ right there,” he muttered. “You heard her. She just up and agreed, no fuss. Like she doesn’t have somethin’ to lose. Fucking pisses me off.”

Tommy exhaled sharply, stepping away from the doorframe, closer. “And what—you think you’re the only one who gives a damn about that?”

Joel’s hand curled around his glass, grip tightening.

Tommy watched him, voice dropping lower. “I get it. You’re scared.”

Joel laughed—sharp, humourless. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Tommy shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “She ain’t a prisoner, brother. You can’t keep her locked up just ‘cause it makes you feel better. She's contributing, and I appreciate it.”

Joel clenched his jaw, looking away, looking anywhere but at his sly fucking brother. He wasn't keeping her locked up. She's free to roam about Jackson to all her heart's content. Anywhere outside those gates was death.

Tommy let out a short breath. “One day, Joel. That’s all it is. A quick trip, in and out. Not even too far. Colten Bay, where the cars are at. We get the parts, we get out.” He pointed between them. “If anyone can pull this off safely, it's the two of us.”

Joel swallowed down a mouthful of whiskey, felt the burn tear through his chest, but it didn’t do a damn thing to loosen the tension gripping him. His first drink in weeks, so really—Maria and Tommy can burn in hell.

He didn’t fucking care that it was one day. Didn’t care that Maria had spun it like a need instead of a gamble. Didn’t care that everyone in Jackson seemed to forget that time had nothing to do with luck. That all it took was one second, one wrong move, one stray bullet, one clicker—

Joel’s fingers curled around the glass, his grip too tight, his knuckles white.

Tommy glanced toward the window while bending down to pick up Maya, and Joel’s eyes flicked there without thinking.

Leela was still on the porch, still sitting in that chair, but she wasn’t listening to Maria anymore.

She was watching him.

Her gaze was indistinct. She wasn’t pissed. Wasn’t waiting for him to come back out and start swinging words at her. He knew she was trying to figure him out, trying to make sense of the way he’d walked out, the way he always did when something didn’t sit right in his chest.

Joel turned away first, the whiskey still burning at the back of his throat.

Nothing fucking mattered. What mattered was that it was her, facing this head-on.

And he wasn’t convinced of a goddamn thing.

X

Joel and Leela walked on home in silence, and it wasn't the good kind.

The wind had died down some, the night settling thick and warm over Jackson. It was quiet this time of night—just the occasional rustling of leaves, and the distant bark of a dog.

Maya waddled ahead of them on the road, booted feet scuffing the pavement, hands out like she was steadying herself on air. She still stumbled, still tottered every few steps, but she always caught herself. Every so often, she’d stop short, crouch down with intense concentration, and pluck some tiny thing from the asphalt—a loose button, a round pebble, a twig stripped bare. Each discovery was met with a moment of serious inspection before she turned to Leela, holding out her closed fist.

Leela didn't rush her. She crouched every time, let Maya show her whatever treasure she found, murmured little words of encouragement as she carefully tucked them away in her fists.

Joel watched them, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

Maya was still tireless, determined to walk herself out, and they let her. Better she exhausted herself and slept without waking through the night.

Joel let the silence hang between them a while longer, turning over the conversation from earlier, rolling it like a stone in his palm. It sat uneasy in his gut.

He hadn’t said a thing since she told them all. Since she made it clear that she was going on that supply run, no matter what he thought about it.

And maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was what had him feeling like his ribs were closing in on him, like he had no way out anymore.

Because she wasn’t asking. She wasn’t waiting for his approval, for his permission, for the fight he was expecting. She had made up her mind, and all he could do was either accept it or lose his goddamn mind over it.

Joel let out a slow breath through his nose, rubbing a hand along his neck. His gaze flicked to Leela, who walked beside him now, letting Maya waddle ahead, her little hands clutching another button and a leaf—all prizes from her slow road exploration.

He envied her, in a way. The simplicity of Maya. The way her world was still so small, so safe. She didn’t know what was waiting beyond Jackson’s gates. Didn’t know about the things that hunted in the dark. Didn’t know what it was like to lose the people you loved. Not just yet.

The silence stretched between them as they reached the end of the street. It wasn’t tense, not really, but there was something unspoken lingering between them, thick as the humid summer air around them. Maybe Leela thought he’d just walk away, and head back to his own place without another word. Hell, maybe he thought he would too.

But his feet didn’t turn.

Instead, he followed her up the steps of her house, moving in quiet tandem with her. The porch light flickered faintly above them, casting long shadows, and softening the sharp edges of the night.

Leela reached for the doorknob, hesitating for just a second, as if half-expecting him to stop. Then, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye—surprise flickered there, barely a spark before she smothered it, burying it deep where he wouldn’t see.

She didn’t ask why he was still here. Didn’t call him on it. Like she’d already made peace with the idea that he’d walk away. That he always did when things got too tangled in his head. When he got too pissed to think straight.

“Joel,” she tried anyway, quiet. Not pushing. Not pleading. Just saying his name, like she needed to acknowledge him still standing beside her.

He shook his head. Stepped inside after her. “We'll talk after, darlin'.”

Their playful baby girl was still awake, cradled in her mama's arms now, her chubby fingers curled around something—studying it with immense curiosity. Then she turned them up to him, holding out her tiny hand.

Joel exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he knelt beside her. “Oh, for me? Thank you.”

She blinked up at him, solemn for half a second before breaking into a slow, gummy smile. He kissed her fingers, then pried the object from her grasp—a small, worn button, edges fraying. It's wonder how it hadn't found its way into her mouth. He pocketed it anyway.

“I want these though,” he murmured, touching the soft curls on her head before pressing another kiss to her hand.

Maya stared at him, absorbing his words with the kind of gravity only babies seemed to have. Then, consciously, she put a hand to her eyes and dragged it down in a peekaboo motion—an awkward, uncoordinated version of what Leela had been working on with her.

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh, repeating her motion with his own hand and eyes. “Yeah, sleep time. G'night, sweetheart.”

She grinned like she understood, letting her head flop to the side, little fingers curling into the skin on her mother's neck.

Joel lingered for a moment longer, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, before finally straightening. Leela had already stepped away, slipping upstairs without another word. Not dismissing him—just giving him space. Maybe testing whether he’d still be here when she came back down.

He needed to get his head straight before that happened. The whiskey was settling in now, thickening his thoughts, and making everything feel heavier. He strolled into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, swallowed it down in slow gulps, and let his fingers rest against the cool rim of the sink. Tried to clear the haze.

His mind wouldn’t fucking settle.

He considered every possible thing that could go wrong once she stepped outside Jackson. About how exposed she’d be. About what she didn’t know, what she hadn’t prepared for. Or had she?

He glanced at the lights in the room. Did she even own a flashlight? A pack? His gaze shifted toward the shoe cupboard. Sturdy boots? Maybe she could take his. No, that’d be suicide—his shoes would slow her down. Maybe he could fix something for her, repurpose something—

He ran a hand over his face, pressing his fingers against the slow-forming ache between his brows.

His eyes drifted to the farthest end of the living room, past the record player and fireplace, where she kept the rifles on display. Two out of three hooks were filled. Good rifles. Sturdy make. Definitely not the US. The stocks had rough engravings on them—one, the bigger one, had a cowboy hat carved into it. The other, smaller but similar to the one he took on patrol, had a sunflower.

Joel never asked if he could try the big one. Never asked why she had them. He wasn’t sure if it was respect or something else holding him back.

Joel heard her before he saw her.

Soft footsteps against the wooden floor, hesitant but not uncertain. He didn’t turn. Kept his eyes on the empty space on the wall where the third rifle should’ve been.

“Hey,” he called to her. “Where’d the other one go?”

A pause. “Oh, um.”

The hesitation made him glance over his shoulder, just in time to catch the way her expression flickered—quick, close to distress—before she forced it smooth.

“I lost it. A while ago.”

Joel didn’t say anything. She was good at keeping her face unreadable when she wanted to be. Too good. But her hands gave her away—fingers twitching at her sides, body shifting like she was bracing for something. For him to push.

Instead, he turned fully, giving her a long, quiet look. “So you can use one?”

Leela lifted a shoulder in that casual way of hers. “You just aim and pull the trigger.”

Jesus Christ. Joel exhaled sharply through his nose. “More to it than that.”

That finally got a reaction. Not much, but he saw it—the way her back straightened, the way her gaze flickered toward the rifle hooks like she wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed or pissed off.

Joel dragged a hand down his face, his patience thinning. The irritation burning in his chest wasn’t at her. Not really. It was the world that had left her this unprepared. At whoever had let her believe that knowing how to run was the same as knowing how to survive.

And then, softly—like she could hear every damn thing rattling around in his head—Leela said, “You don’t have to worry about me, Joel.”

His jaw locked. His hands curled into fists at his sides. That was easy for her to say.

“That right?” His voice was low, edged like a knife. “I don’t have to worry?” He let out a short, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “The hell kinda thing is that to say?”

Leela sighed, not looking away. “Because Tommy’s right,” she said simply. “I do know how to take care of myself.”

Joel scoffed, glancing away like that might help settle the heat crawling under his skin. “That ain’t the goddamn point.”

“I’ve been alone for years before you or Maya.” Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact. “You think I don’t know how to get out of a bad situation?” She shook her head, lips pressing together. “I know when to run. I know when to escape. I know how to survive.”

Joel clenched his teeth. His voice came rough, gravelly. “That doesn’t mean you should have to.”

“I won’t have to.”

Joel let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “See, now you’re just tryin’ my patience—”

Leela scoffed. “And you’re not trying mine?”

His jaw ticked. She had that look again—stubborn, set in her ways. Like she’d already decided she was right and he was wrong. That this was just some argument she could win if she dug her heels in deep enough.

Joel felt his pulse in his temples. He took a slow breath, working to unclench his fists. “Darlin'—”

“No, I get it.” She threw up a hand, a sharpness flashing in her eyes. “You don’t trust me to handle myself.”

Joel’s stomach twisted. That wasn’t it. That wasn’t it.

“This ain’t about trust or confidence,” he bit out. “It’s about common damn sense. You head out there thinking it’s just about knowing when to run, you’re gonna wind up dead.”

Leela flinched—barely. But he saw it.

“Yeah, that scared you already?” he goaded.

She blinked, and her expression flickered for the first time in the conversation. It wasn’t much. Just a shift—like his words had hit somewhere deep.

His pulse pounded in his ears, and the heat of it was too much. He couldn’t breathe around it.

She didn’t get it. Didn’t get that he had to worry about her. The fact that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her. How it pissed him the fuck off that she was moving through the world like she didn’t expect anyone to look out for her.

Look, he’d seen what happens to people who think they know how to survive—people who get cocky, get comfortable, get trigger-happy and think they can handle the world outside these walls.

And then they don’t come back. Then they end up dead. Or worse.

He could still remember it so clearly. The way she’d disappeared inside herself after—days, maybe weeks, of silence.

She’d been hollow back then. Like someone had cracked her open and scooped out everything that made her her, leaving behind this void of a person. And even now—months later—she still shrank sometimes. Still tensed when someone moved too fast. Still got too deep in her own head, lost in the shadows of what had been done to her.

And now she wanted to act like she knew better than him? Like she could handle herself just fine? Like she could walk out there and face the world, and all its horrors? No fucking way.

Before he could stop himself before he could shove it back down where it belonged—

“Exactly,” His voice was low, rough. “I bet you didn't give that much thought the last time you stepped outta Jackson. Everything went just fine, ain't it?”

The second the words left his mouth, he felt them hit. Joel desperately wanted to take them back.

Leela didn’t move or even breathe. And for a second—one terrible, drawn-out second—Joel thought maybe she hadn’t heard him right. Maybe it hadn’t landed the way it shouldn’t have. Maybe she understood where he was coming from.

Then he saw it.

Saw the way her eyes widened—just a fraction—before she caught herself. The way her throat bobbed like she was swallowing down something jagged, that wouldn't go down. The way her fingers curled around her elbows, gripping tight, too tight.

She looked—

No.

Fuck.

She looked like she’d just been struck across the face.

Joel felt his stomach drop out from under him, cold and fast. His hands twitched uselessly at his sides.

He opened his mouth—to say what? What the hell was he supposed to say? That he hadn’t meant it? That it had just slipped? That it wasn’t meant to come out like that? That he loved her too much to see her turned into one of those monsters? That he'd have to be the one to end her life?

None of it would matter. The damage was done.

Leela blinked—slow, making sense of what he'd said in her head, like she was trying to reset herself, to push it all down before it could spill over.

Then, wordlessly, she took a step back.

It wasn’t a flinch. Just one slow, careful step, like she was putting distance between herself and a flame.

His throat felt tight, but he forced out, “Leela, I—”

Her dark eyes lifted to his, and whatever he was about to say—whatever useless, pathetic attempt he had at making this right—died in his throat.

He saw it then. The hurt rising inside her like a tide, like something too big for her body to hold. She fought to keep it contained, to keep herself from drowning in it.

She had spent months clawing her way back from the wreckage. Months forcing herself to breathe when breathing hurt. He had seen her battle it every goddamn day—watched her press forward even when it would’ve been easier to crumble.

And now—now—he had gone and ripped her right back to the place she had fought so fucking hard to escape.

The realization made him sick. His stomach twisted, bile burning at the back of his throat.

He took a step toward her, hands aching to reach out—he didn’t even know for what—but she moved first.

Another step back. Fear or hesitance would've been better. No, she was just done.

His chest caved in.

She pulled in a breath, slow and shaking, and turned away.

No words. No parting shot. And for the first time in a long time, Joel felt that patched-up thing inside him splinter once more.

He lingered, just long enough to watch her shoulders tense, just long enough to see the way she folded her arms around herself like she had to physically hold herself together, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead.

Then he swallowed hard, fisted his useless hands at his sides, and turned for the door. He knew when he wasn't needed. Even if he wanted to stand there and fight, he knew he'd only make it worse.

And this time, she didn’t stop him, or even look his way. Like he wasn’t worth looking at anymore.

And that—more than anything—was what finally did him in.

X

Joel had gone over that conversation a hundred times that night. Maybe more. All the would've, could've, should've.

He rewound it. Paused it. Picked it apart with brutal precision, replaying every word, every pause, every flex in her expression, every goddamn moment where he could have said something else. Done something else.

He thought of all the ways he could’ve worked around it. How he could’ve found a way to talk her down without tearing her apart. How he could’ve swallowed his damn pride, fought back his temper, and let the moment pass instead of driving a blade straight through it.

That failure pressed into his chest like a dull, grinding ache. A constant, gnawing thing that wouldn't leave him alone. He could still see her face—see the way she’d gone still, like all the fight had been ripped out of her. See the way her fingers had curled, clinging to herself like he was something she needed to guard against.

And now—he was lying awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling like his own body was too goddamn tight around him.

Had he lost them both in less than a few words out of his angry skull?

The thought twisted inside him, sharp and ugly, sending him rolling onto his side, then onto his back again, unable to settle. He clenched his fists into the blanket and breathed through his nose. It was a mistake. A bad one.

But mistakes could be fixed.

By the time dawn started bleeding through the cracks in his window, he was already up. Already moving, feeling like a goddamn pushover despite the gnawing panic chewing at his gut.

He had ten different ways to apologize. A dozen ways to make it right. All those months—those careful, fragile months he’d spent trying to earn his place in her life—those hadn’t just disappeared overnight. Right? She had to know he hadn’t meant it. She had to know why he said it. She had to know that he—

All of them crumpled into nothing the second he clicked the handle of her door.

Locked.

His gut went cold, his hand flexing against the handle before he tried again. Tighter. Harder.

Still locked.

That was his first red light, and his pulse picked up.

He knocked once. Twice. No, she wasn't shutting him out like this. Then again, louder, the heel of his hand landing flat against the wood.

"Fuck!"

Silence. A silence that stretched too long and felt wrong. His pulse kicked up, a slow, insidious dread creeping under his skin.

He stepped back, his gaze flicking across the windows—the kitchen, dark. The living room, empty. His eyes dragged toward the nursery window on the far right-hand side—nothing.

No shadow shifting behind the curtain. No rustling, no sound—not even Maya.

The sick feeling in his gut twisted tighter.

He exhaled, a sharp, uneven thing, running a hand down the corners of his mouth. Think, dammit. Think.

She could be out. Could be at Tommy and Maria’s. Could be at the stables, or the gardens, or anywhere but here. Really early in the morning. Where—where—where—

His breath came shallow. His hands flexed at his sides. And then, like a slow, sick unravelling, the realization started to set in.

No, that wasn’t it.

It wasn’t just the locked door. It wasn’t just the empty house.

It was the details. The little things he hadn’t noticed before. The way the street was too still. The way the morning air carried no trace of her scent—woodsmoke and something soft, something clean. The way Maya’s cries hadn’t woken him up at the crack of dawn.

Because she was gone.

Because she’d already left.

With Tommy. Or Ellie. Or Maria. Sometime in the morning.

"Shit," he hissed.

And Joel was too fucking late.

His heart lurched as he broke into a sprint, boots pounding against the dirt road as he raced toward the stables. His breath came rough, shallow, burning his throat, but he didn’t slow.

Didn’t stop. He just couldn't.

Not when he already felt the loss clawing its way under his skin, tightening in his ribs, wrapping around his throat. He could picture, her, out there, alone with Tommy. He should be there, no matter how much she despised him at that moment.

This fucking girl. Stupid, dumb, impulsive girl. So what if she could fix everything, so what if she could solve Jackson's every problem? What about her? What was he then, chopped liver? What the fuck was he here for?

He shoved through the stables, pushing past a startled ranch hand, heading straight for the gun rack. His fingers curled around the first rifle in reach, yanking it loose with a sharp tug.

“Joel, Maria said—” Someone stepped forward, half a warning, half a question, but he wasn’t listening.

He held up a cautionary hand. “Son. Don't.”

And that was enough for him to back the hell away.

Joel's body moved on instinct. A force of will, of desperation, of that something clawing at the edges of his sanity, telling him to get the fuck on.

He threw himself onto the saddle, boots slamming hard into the stirrups, hands locking around the reins with a grip tight enough to turn his knuckles white. The horse beneath him shifted, sensing his urgency, muscles coiling beneath its hide. He yanked the reins, heels pressing in.

The gate loomed ahead.

"Open the goddamn gate," he barked.

No hesitation. No arguments. Damn straight. The heavy doors groaned, splitting apart just wide enough—and he was gone.

Bolting through, dirt and gravel kicking up in his wake, muggy wind cutting against his face. His pulse was hammering, his breath sharp, ragged. Riding like hell itself was behind him.

Out for her.

X

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[theyluvivi]

pretty little angel...m.s

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ: FILTH. p in v (#wrapthat #dont do this!!) theres barely plot. riding. use of angel n baby. (heh.) sub!matt<3 teasing. creampie. use of ma. (ONCE) praise. thas abt it.

You've been wanting Matt for a while. It's not a crush at this point. It's an obsession. You've been jumping over hurdles to get with this guy. Every party you see him at, every hang out you guys have—There's tension, the eye contact, the almost kisses... it's ridiculous. Everyone else can tell you're into him, and as far as you're concerned, he's into you.

You were so sitting on the couch watching a movie with Matt, his finger tracing patterns on your thigh when you just couldn't take it anymore. "Matt?"

"Hmm?" His eyes don't tear away from the screen, "I'm gonna fuck you."

He slowly turns towards you, eyes widening. "....wha?" You smile at his reaction. "That okay with you?" He nods. "Y-yeah— that's amazing with me—"

One kiss leads to another kiss, which leads to you dragging him to your room and his Matt's boxers being discarded on your floor along with your panties. You're so finally happy to have him under you like this. Flushed cheeks and sweaty hairs sticking to his face while he can let out are moans and whimpers. This'll be engraved in your memory for sure.

A helpless whine escapes his lips as you roll your hips, stimulating his cock perfectly. He throws his arm over his face. "Nuh uh, none of that, Angel. Wanna see your pretty face as I fuck you." His hips rise to yours in small, careful thrusts. "Don't call me th—that—"

"Why?" You remove his arm from his face, "You look like an angel, you should see how good you like right now," You purr, moving your hand to his chin. "Maybe I should fuck you in front of my mirror so you can see for yourself."

His dick twitches inside of you as his eyes widen. "N-no— mh—" You giggle at his reaction. "Why...? You'd get to see how good I'm taking your cock, you'd like that wouldn't you?" You tease, his cheeks flush as his breath hitches. His hips move in sync with yours, "M' just teasing. Maybe next time, though.... since you like the idea so much." You release his chin, beginning to bounce on his cock.

He throws his head back into the pillows, a loud cry of pleasure escaping his lips at your movements. His fingers dig into your hips, desperately trying to find something to hold onto. "That feel good, Angel?"

His face scrunches up, his nose crinkling. He lets out a shaky moan. "Mh-hm... toogood— when you bounce like that—" His hips stuttering up, "G-gonna make me cum—" You smirk at his words, leaning down to leave marks on his neck, "So pretty, Baby.. so, so, pretty." You murmur into his neck. He melts at your words, the praise getting to his head. "Shi— stop calling me pretty or m gonna cum—"

"But you are.." You purr, sitting up to give his neck a break. "Such a pretty boy...makin' pretty noises all f'me." His eyes roll back slightly, a deep moan escaping his lips as he struggles to maintain control. "Fuccccck— you're gonna make me cum!" His hips buck wildly, his cock throbbing inside you. "Wan— wanna cum with you— b-but I can't hold it—" He whines, tears forming in his eyes. "Shhh, you can make me cum later, kay?" You kiss his cheek before slamming down your hips on him, making him gasp.

"Gonna cum for me, Matt?" He nods desperately, face twisting in pleasure. "Yyes— gonna fucking cum! Gonna make me cum so hard— please– let me cum inside you—" He pants, you tilt your head at him. "You want it that bad?" He nods frantically, his body trembling. "Yyes! I want it so bad– want to fill you up, want you milk every drop out of my cock!" He's barely coherent at this point, completely lost in pleasure. "Please... I'll be your good boy." He's too cute.

You slam down your hips one more time, "Cum for me, Matt." His body tenses then convulses as that band in his stomach snaps. A loud, pathetic cry leaves his lips as his cock pulses and throbs, releasing a hot stream of cum deep inside you. His hips buck uncontrollably, riding out the waves of pleasure as he empties himself completely. You kiss him deeply as his thrusts slowly come to a stop. "Was that..?"

He pants heavily, his chest heaving as he comes down from his high. He looks up at you with unfocused, satisfied eyes. "That was.... fucking incredible." He swallows hard, a soft smile on his lips as he slides from under you and onto the floor. "You said I could make you cum later, right?" He says softly, parting your legs and licking at his cum and your juices running down your legs.

"Gonna make you feel so good, Mama."

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizzzsstuff @sosasturns @drewswife @strnilolover @cvnts4demi

a/n: idk where this came from tbh.....erm!

[xoxochb]

“mhmmm what time is it?” your voice comes out muffled within the pillow as you roll over onto your tummy.

but percy rolls you back over onto your back and you whine. you reach out, eyes closed, until you at last feel your boyfriend beside you. you hit him with the utmost force you can muster in your current sleepy state. which isn’t much but you try.

“time, please.”

your hand slides off his chest as percy slides to the side to find the bedside clock. you leave your arm outstretched until you feel him lay back down and his cold skin is back beneath your fingertips.

“three-fourteen.” he smiles and takes your arm into both of his hands, beginning from your fingers and peppering them in light kisses.

you whine a second time. “‘s too early, perce.”

“I can’t sleep.” his mouth works its way up your wrist and beginning over the expanse your arm.

“‘course you can’t…” you inhale before sitting up alongside him, taking the blankets with you to bear the coldness over your bare skin.

you watch as his lips travel higher. you turn on your side facing him so once reached your shoulder he is allowed easier access. soon, he does. percy’s mouth falls upon your shoulder, your neck, and remaining there like a leech.

his hands rest sprawled along the skin of your back, while your own drape around his neck, twirling his hair lazily. you feel his smile between kisses. it makes your own lips turn upwards.

“percy, what’re you doing?” the smile is oh-so prominent in your voice it brings such a pink flush to your cheeks.

he finds your jaw quickly, then your chin and your cheeks and your temples and your forehead and your hairline and the bridge of your nose and the tip of it then your top lip and your bottom lip and each corner of your mouth before at last, finally connecting his lips with yours.

it’s there and gone too quickly for your liking it was at the very least ten seconds. when he pulls back you exhale.

“you’re dodging my question.”

“oh.” anyone else may have believed it was sincere ‘oh’ but you knew better. you also knew his smirk all too well. he shrugs and begins pecking your neck again. “just wanna kiss you, sweet girl. that okay with you?”

you roll your eyes. yet your smile never does falter. “it’s three in the morning— you couldn’t wait until at least six?”

percy nips at your neck. breaking your nonchalance, you giggle softly. his smirk is exchanged for a smile, to unbearably wide he’s no longer able to kiss your skin. he settles for resting his face on your shoulder instead.

“I think you know the answer to that, sweet girl.”

he was right. but you suppose it was still nice to hear his voice.

“touché.” you nod and place a tender kiss to his forehead. “do i get to go back to sleep?”

“also no.”

of course. might as well get comfortable.

you sigh and tangle your legs with his. he is cold in comparison to your warmth and you’re sure nothing has felt better. or maybe an exaggeration percy would never let you get away with saying but the point is still understood the same.

“do I at least get to go to bed early tonight?”

“I’ll think about it.”

you lightly tug at a strand of his hair. “there’s nothing to think about.”

“there is. it depends—” you can hear the smirk. “are you planning to wear that new blue dress you got the other day?”

“I was but now I’m having second thoughts.”

“pleaseeeeee wear it, you look so good in blue, sweet girl.”

you recall when you had bought it. a rare occasion when you had been able to leave camp with percy. typically mr. d did not trust the both of you together. but just this once you had gone shopping for summer clothes. percy had found the dress himself, actually.

you had allowed him to enter the changing room with you as you had tried it on. his plan from there, the sight of the pretty blue sundress on you, was to drop every social moral he owned as he dropped to his knees before you.

you told him no but promised to wear it sometime during the week. honestly, you had been dying to wear it yourself.

“I suppose I will.”

like presumed, you had not gone to bed early the following night.

༯ “love you to the moon and to saturn neptune” - seven, taylor swift, folklore.

[urno1luv]

need more ryuxnatty she drives me crazy 😞 I love how they just .. do as they please withh reader

popular girl natty × jock ryujin × helpless reader

pt 1

cw: dubcon, fingering, choking

natty, the rich, popular girl everyone hates but wants to be friends with — always perfectly dressed, and always in everyone's business. the type to ace every class without trying and still have time to party every weekend🙂‍↕️

ryujin, the effortlessly hot athlete — always in sweatpants, hair messy, with a cocky smirk like she knows exactly how good she looks. the reason half the campus shows up to the soccer games, but she only cares about whether you and natty are watching.

they both have completely different energies, but somehow you ended up right between them — natty spoiling you rotten while ryujin manhandles you like her personal stress relief🤞

natty will buy you expensive lingerie just to see you blush when she makes you try it on in front of her. "doesn't she look so pretty, ryu?" she coos, running her fingers along the lace. ryujin just smirks, leaning back on the bed with her hands behind her head. "yeah… but I think she'd look better if I took it off."

ofc you'd try to stop them, but it's useless bc there's a hand over your mouth and their fingers in your cunt :((

they love showing you off — natty parading you around at parties like her little doll, while ryujin wraps a protective arm around your waist, making sure everyone knows you're off limits☝️

they spoil you together — natty pays for your nails, your clothes, your little iced coffees… and ryujin buys you snacks and lets you ride around campus on her motorbike like you're her pretty little passenger princess!!

they never let you forget you're theirs — natty with her soft, sugary voice whispering, "our pretty girl…" while ryujin's hands grip your hips, holding you exactly where she wants you.

natty likes to drag it out — kissing every inch of your body, brushing her fingers over your skin until you're squirming, only to giggle and pull away.

"patience, sweetheart… good girls wait, don't they?"

ryujin is the one who loses control first — all sharp teeth against your neck, rough hands pinning you down. She loves making you cry for it.

"you can take more, baby… can't you?"

when you're all done and completely ruined, natty's the one who cleans you up — soft kisses on your forehead, gentle hands wiping away the mess they made of you. meanwhile, ryujin just silently watches, already planning how she's going to wreck you again once you've caught your breath

[bejeweledinterludes]

— ⌈ dean x reader headcanons that are way too specific and very important TO ME! ⌋

『 part 2 of @bejeweledinterludes’ headcanon series. 』

read my headcanons part 1 here!

↳ . . . YOOOOO HEYYYY here’s a part 2 since everyone seemed to like the first one! thinking about doing a solely nsfw headcanon post OR some chubby!reader headcanons for deano 😋 bc i’m in the trenches of ovulation week rn and my stupid thoughts have to go somewhere. also, if anyone had requests, i’d definitely be open to that as well! anyhoo enjoy my pookies <3

𖤐 ────────────────────────

> being a decent hunter, the winchester brothers had heard of you before, and you them— you’d heard stories, of course, but you never officially crossed paths until you were at bobby’s house at the same time they were. you’d known bobby— because everybody knew bobby—since you started hunting.

your greeting to them came almost as quickly as your goodbye, nodding at them with a “hey” while clambering down bobby’s front porch to your car, your usual bag full of weapons and books in hand— but not before you notice the jet-black ‘67 impala next to your own.

and you know your way around a car, having your own ‘baby-esque’ vehicle that you love more than life itself (can be vintage or newer model, doesn’t matter, because it’s yours). dean had noticed your car in bobby’s driveway immediately, too— who wouldn’t? the man had eyes.

anyways, you walk past baby in all her glory while nodding appreciatively— turning just a little to dean and tossing a free thumb towards her with a grin before saying a quick: “dude. bitchin’ car.”

and after initially being thrown off by the way you carried yourself, a mixture of confidence, respect, and almost familiarity— dean shoots back with a “could say the same about yours.”

at that remark, you freaking smiled. and dean almost fainted right then and there at the sight. you got in your car, and that was it, due to your visit to bobby’s house really being just a pit stop/supply run before you headed right back on the road again, a new hunt already waiting for you in montana.

> because despite sam and dean being the most good-looking hunters you ever laid eyes on, you weren't one to dilly dally over just a pretty face (when lives were on the line, of course). but somehow, you knew that you’d see them again. hunting wasn’t exactly a booming career field, after all.

> that being said, it took dean a while to get comfortable around you whenever you did end up working together— like a while. you’d only crossed wires with the brothers a few times, helping them out when you could on hunts over the next few years. sam and you made easy friends almost immediately, but dean took longer to warm up to you. but you didn’t mind, or take it personally. you never pushed dean to be your friend even with how much you wanted to be.

> when you guys do work together, though, you and dean understand every single pop culture reference you guys throw at each other. he was shocked when he referenced a classic 80s movie (it was weird science) while working one of your first cases together.

and not only did you understand it and laugh— you made your own joke about it. now you two can’t shut your traps once you get going (for the love of god, do not ask about die hard around them).

> dean and you have also almost blown your cover and gotten caught on hunts because you guys laugh/giggle too loud at what the other says (especially in serious situations).

your favorite running joke is finding old portraits of ugly dead guys, pointing a finger at them and saying to dean “huh, i didn’t know you were alive in *checks plaque under painting* 1837” (and don’t worry, he does the same exact thing to you.)

> dean once fell asleep on your shoulder during a stakeout/recon/watching a potential victim’s house and you didn’t move an inch the entire time. when you finally tried to gently wake him up, he had the audacity to sleepily mumble “jus’ five more minutes” into your shirt and cling to you like a koala in the car. you, being the saint and not wanting to argue, let him sleep for another 2 hours couple minutes.

> and soon enough, dean eventually came around. you knew he cared about you way before he did, but you never forced anything. he appreciated that more than you knew.

and it wasn’t just one single moment of realization like in the movies when dean knew he cared about you. it was quiet, simmering, and when he looked, it was already just… there. but the feelings he hadn’t noticed he’d been pushing down for so long came to a head on a hunt when you almost died— the way they always did when someone he cared about was hurt.

after that, something shifted. you could feel and see it, even if dean didn’t say anything outright to you. for one, he called more often when you were away— he’d need help with something you knew that he already knew damn well how to do, or with something you knew he had much better contacts for.

i mean, come on. he knows freaking rowena, and he’s calling you for assistance on a spell? and sometimes, he’d call for no reason at all, making up some excuse just to hear your voice. you never mentioned it, out of fear he’d stop calling entirely.

> because you always loved when dean called.

───────────────────────── 𖤐

you have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

i genuinely believe that i tweak out over this man at least 4 times a day stg. and the gif i picked lives in my mind rent-free. he looks so ethereal sigh i wish he was real 💔

ANYWAYS here’s my taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

[usomads]

Slow Burn // Jimmy Uso x Reader

Author’s Note -> Hiiiii :) had this sitting in drafts so I decided to finish it… and I’m– 🤤. Will be working on more stuff in the coming days, so stay tuned! Also, my lovely friend @zyvngi made this clip and I just… yeah there was no way I wasn’t using it lol. As always, happy reading y’all!

Pairings -> Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Fluff (if you squint), Cursing, Drug Use (Weed), P in V, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 4.4k

You enter Jon’s house as you always did, swinging the door open without knocking and waltzing right inside– your body collapsing on his living room couch. Media had kicked your ass today, more than usual, and you were definitely feeling the effects of it. Jon happened to have a day off today, one that was hard to come by, especially with the work you two did at WWE– him being a talent and you a producer. That’s how the two of you met 4 years ago, and you’ve been inseparable ever since.

“Well, good afternoon to you too, princess.” Jon teases, as you shoot daggers at him. 

“I don’t know how much more I can fuckin’ take. Paul’s driving me crazy, the work is endless, and absolutely nobody seems to appreciate how much work I’m putting into this to make shit happen every show. I’m about to fuckin’ lose it.” You groan, flopping down onto the couch and rubbing your eyes.

Jon leans against the island countertop, grinning, clearly amused by your frustration. “Sounds like you’ve had a day… wanna vent or just keep it low-key?”

You sigh dramatically, sitting up on the couch. “No, no, I should probably let it all out. I swear, I’ve been busting my ass, and every time I think I’m ahead, something else gets thrown on me. And everyone thinks I’m this superhero that can just fuckin’ fix it,” you pause, rubbing your temples. “I just want a break, but I feel like there’s no time to take one.”

He nods sympathetically, then walks over to the end table and pulls something from the drawer. “You really need to take a break though, you keep goin’ like that, you’re gonna burn yourself out.”

You laugh bitterly, half-glancing at him. “I know, I know. It’s like I don't even know how to take a break anymore. It’s always work, work, and more work.”

Jon takes out a joint from his pocket and lights it casually, raising an eyebrow at you. “You want some help with that?”

He takes a slow drag, exhaling slowly as you stare at him– shocked.

“You… smoke?”

He laughs, shrugging nonchalantly as he continues to puff on the joint. “Yeah, ‘s not somethin’ I bring up, but yeah, sometimes it helps me unwind. And you look like you could use a lil’ somethin’ to take the edge off.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “I just… I never thought you’d be the type to do… that.”

“What, smoke?” he chuckles. “Well, you never really asked. Trust me though, a little bit won’t hurt. It’s just us, Y/N. No work, no stress…” he grins, taking another drag then passing it to you.

You’re hesitant, but also curious. You take the joint from him, your voice getting soft.

“I don’t know… I’ve never done… this before.”

Jon smirks at you, sitting down and leaning back on the couch as he grabs another joint– one for himself. “First time for everything, right? No pressure, ma. Just take it slow.”

Nervously, you take a drag, coughing slightly. “Oh my god…” 

He laughs softly, leaning closer to you and offering you a reassuring smile. “Yeah, it can be a bit much at first. Just breathe through it, you’ll get used to it.”

You exhale, giggling nervously and shaking your head. “Okay, okay, I’m definitely not used to it. But… this actually feels kinda nice.” 

You’re growing more confident by the second, taking another drag. Jon watches you intently, a gentle smile on his face.

“That’s it, you’re doin’ great, ma. You deserve to feel nice, just let go of all that stress, you know?” he soothes you, his voice dropping lower than usual. 

As the night goes on, you both start to relax, the conversation flowing more freely. The effects of the joint take hold, and the atmosphere shifts in a way that has allowed the two of you to open up in a way you hadn’t before. You lean back against the couch, your eyes a little heavier but more relaxed. 

“You know, I never realized how much I needed this… to chill. I feel like I’m always runnin’ around, doin’ everything for everyone, and never doin’ anything for myself.”

Jon nods, a softer tone to his voice as he responds to you, looking at you intently. “I get it. You’re always taking care of other people, but you forget about you. You deserve to slow down. You gotta take care of yourself, too. Not everything’s on you.”

You turn to look at him, the weight of his words hitting you deep within your chest. “I don’t know why I feel like I have to do everything. It’s like if I stop, everything’s gonna fall apart.”

He softens, his expression growing more serious. “You don’t have to be everything to everyone, you’re enough just as you are. But I get it, you don’t want to disappoint people.”

A moment of quiet rushes in between them as the room feels more intimate, the casual chatter fading into something more profound. The connection between you feels intense, a shared vulnerability settling in. 

You look down, almost embarrassed, as you speak softly. “Maybe I don’t know how to stop being so… perfect. Like, I always have to keep everything together. I don’t know how to let someone help me.”

Jon reaches over and tilts your chin to face him, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to always be perfect, Y/N. With me, you can just be you, no pressure.”

The mood shifts. Your eyes lock, and there’s an undeniable charge between you, something unspoken but deeply felt. The air is thick with tension as you unconsciously move closer together. Before you can even process it, Jon leans in and kisses you, slow and unexpected. It’s not rushed, but full of emotion, a silent acknowledgement of everything you’ve both been feeling. The kiss deepens naturally, your mutual desire growing, and in that moment, the world outside fades. Reality hits you after a moment and you pull back slightly, eyes wide in shock as your breath catches in your throat. 

“Wha–?”

He pulls back quickly, his own eyes growing wide, clearly panicked. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to– I just– I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have–”

He stands up, pacing slightly, his hand running through his hair. After a beat you stand as well, still in shock as you move towards him and gently place your hand on his arm. 

“Jon…” 

He turns to you, his eyes pinged in fear and nervousness as he looks at you. You step closer, looking at him with a soft but intense gaze. Before he can utter another word, you reach up, gently pulling him back down to you, kissing him again– this time with more certainty, as if you had wanted it too. You pull away slightly, breathing a little heavier as his eyes search yours, his expression mixed with relief and surprise– then, a smile starts to form on his face. 

Jon leans in, his forehead nearly brushing yours as that signature smirk of his plays on his lips. “Damn, Y/N… You got me over here thinking I messed up, and then you go and kiss me like that?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something deeper laced within it—something raw, something real.

You exhale a soft laugh, still feeling the warmth of his lips lingering on yours. “Maybe I just wanted to shut you up,” you tease, running a hand through his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

Jon’s grin widens, his hands still resting on your waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles against your skin. “Oh, word? That’s how you feel?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, Y/N. I think you’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

You raise a brow, playing along. “And if I have?”

His gaze darkens, his fingers tightening just slightly at your waist. “Then I’d say we got a whole lot of catching up to do.”

Before you can respond, he reaches over to grab the joint resting in the ashtray nearby, taking a slow drag before bringing it to your lips. “Here,” he murmurs, voice dripping with something dangerously smooth. “Relax a little. We got all night.”

You hold his gaze as you take a hit, the smoke curling between you as he watches you, his eyes flicking down to your lips before dragging back up. The tension between you thickens, wrapping around you both like a slow burn.

Jon leans back slightly, exhaling, his lips curving into a lazy smile. “You always look this good when you’re high, or is it just ‘cause you’re sittin’ here with me?”

You smirk, handing the joint back to him, your fingers deliberately brushing against his. “I don’t know, Uce… Maybe it’s just you.”

His laughter is deep, rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “See, now you just gassin’ me up,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he studies you. “But I ain’t mad at it.”

You shake your head, biting your lip as you watch him. “You like the attention, huh?”

Jon leans in again, this time close enough that his nose nearly brushes yours, his voice nothing but a husky whisper. “I like it when it’s from you.”

Your heart stutters, and for a moment, all you can hear is the faint hum of music in the background and the sound of your own breathing. The world outside doesn’t matter—right now, it’s just you and him, the air thick with smoke and something even more intoxicating.

“Say the word, Y/N,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing up your arm, slow, deliberate. “Tell me you want this as bad as I do.”

You swallow hard, meeting his gaze, your pulse pounding in your ears. Then, with a small smirk, you whisper, “What took you so long to figure that out?”

Jon grins, and before you can say another word, his lips are back on yours, the kiss deeper, more urgent, as if he’s making up for lost time. He groans softly against your lips, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you flush against him. The warmth of his body, the lingering haze of smoke in the air, and the way his fingers tease at the small of your back all send a slow-burning heat through you.

“You tryna drive me crazy, huh?” he mumbles between kisses, his voice husky, dripping with amusement and something deeper.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly to the side as you let your fingers trail up his chest. “I think I already have.”

Jon exhales a slow laugh, shaking his head before taking another hit of the joint, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Oh, you definitely have,” he murmurs, exhaling the smoke lazily before slipping a hand up to cup your jaw, tilting your chin back slightly. “But I ain’t mad at it, baby.”

Your breath catches as his thumb traces along your bottom lip, his touch featherlight but enough to send a shiver straight down your spine. You hold his gaze, letting your lips part slightly, teasing him just enough before you take the joint from his fingers and bring it to your lips. His eyes darken as he watches you, his expression shifting into something unreadable but entirely consuming.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” you murmur after a slow exhale, the smoke curling between you both, “and I’m gonna start thinking you want me.”

Jon chuckles, shaking his head as he licks his lips. “Oh, I been wantin’ yo’ fine ass,” he admits, his voice dropping lower, thick with something almost possessive. “Just been waitin’ for you to catch up.”

Your pulse quickens at his words, at the weight behind them, at the way his fingers are still tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the pull between you both magnetic, undeniable.

“And what happens now that I have?” you ask, arching a brow, challenging him, teasing him.

Jon grins, slow and knowing, his hands sliding down to your hips before he pulls you onto his lap, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Now? Now I finally get to show you how bad.”

His words send a spark of electricity through you, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly just to hear the way his breath hitches, the way his grip on you tightens.

“Damn,” he chuckles, his nose brushing against your cheek as he tilts your head, lips ghosting over yours but not quite touching. “You really been holdin’ out on me, huh?”

You smirk, your fingers still tangled in his curls as you whisper, “Maybe I just wanted you to work for it.”

Jon lets out a deep, satisfied hum, his lips finally capturing yours again, this time with even more urgency, more fire. His hands roam your body, fingertips grazing exposed skin, setting every nerve ablaze.

“Mm,” he murmurs between kisses, pulling back just enough to let his forehead rest against yours. “I don’t mind puttin’ in the work, baby. Not if it means I get to keep you right here.”

Jon’s grip tightens on your hips as he tilts his head back slightly, looking up at you with a mix of amusement and hunger. His fingers trace slow, teasing patterns along your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The warmth of his hands, the faint burn of the smoke in your lungs, and the deep pull of his gaze make your head spin in the best way possible.

“You really got me like this, huh?” he murmurs, his voice husky, rough around the edges. He smirks, exhaling a slow breath as his fingers press just a little harder into your waist. “Sittin’ on my lap, lookin’ at me like you already know what you doin’ to me.”

You bite your lip, dragging your nails gently down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. “Maybe I do,” you tease, tilting your head slightly, watching his expression shift. “And maybe I like it.”

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as his hands slide up your thighs, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. “Oh, I know you do,” he says, his lips ghosting over your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. “You playin’ it all sweet, but you been wantin’ this. I can feel it.”

Your fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt, holding on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. Maybe he is. The heat between you is thick, the air electric with the weight of everything left unsaid. But right now? You don’t need words.

He leans in, his lips just barely brushing against yours, teasing you, making you chase the kiss. “Damn, baby,” he murmurs, smirking as he pulls back just a little, enough to make you whine softly. “You really gonna make me work for it?”

You smirk, tilting your head playfully as you drag your fingers up the back of his neck, pulling him closer, your lips barely touching his. “I thought you liked putting in the work?”

Jon groans, shaking his head with a laugh before finally closing the distance, kissing you with a deep, slow intensity that sends heat pooling in your stomach. His hands explore, memorizing every curve, every dip of your body like he’s wanted to do this for far too long.

He pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “You taste too damn good, Y/N.”

Your heart pounds as you smirk, brushing your nose against his. “Must be all that smoke.”

He grins, his fingers tracing lazy circles at your waist. “Nah… it’s just you, baby.”

The way he says it, low and smooth, makes something flutter deep in your chest. You were just playing before, flirting for the fun of it, but now? Now, you can feel it. This is more than just a moment.

Jon studies you for a second, his gaze softer now, a little more serious. “What you want, Y/N?” His voice is still deep, still teasing, but there’s something genuine underneath it. Like he’s really asking.

You hold his gaze, your fingers still tangled in his curls as you whisper, “You.”

He grins, slow and satisfied, like he just won a game he was always meant to win. “Then come here, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you closer. “Let me give you what you been waiting for.”

Jon’s lips move against yours with a slow, deliberate hunger, like he’s savoring every second. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady on his lap as his tongue brushes against yours, deepening the kiss in a way that makes your head spin. 

His hands wander, sliding up your back, tracing along the curve of your spine. His touch is firm, possessive, but there’s a tenderness beneath it too—like he’s memorizing you, committing this moment to memory. When he pulls back, just slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath is heavy, his eyes dark with something deeper than just desire.

His lips find yours again, this time slower, deeper, his fingers gripping you tighter like he’s afraid to let go. And you melt into him, letting yourself get lost in the moment, letting yourself feel everything.

He leans back slightly, his dark eyes drinking you in, his expression smug but soft at the same time. “So you admit it,” he murmurs, tilting his head, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your hip. “You been wantin’ me too.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but you can’t hide the smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe,” you tease, dragging your fingers down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. “What? You need me to spell it out for you?”

Jon lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Nah, baby. I just like hearin’ you say it.” His grip tightens on your hips as he pulls you even closer, making you feel just how much he’s enjoying this moment. “Say it again.”

Your breath hitches as his lips brush against your jaw, his voice like honey and smoke, smooth and intoxicating. “Say what?” you whisper, tilting your head slightly to give him more access, your pulse racing.

His grin grows against your skin as he places a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your neck, his tongue just barely teasing you. “That you want me.”

You let out a soft laugh, biting your lip as you slide your hands up to his shoulders, gripping them just enough to make him hum in satisfaction. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression smug. “Oh, hell yeah.” He licks his lips, his gaze dark and hungry. “But I’d enjoy it even more if you quit playin’ and told me what I already know.”

You take a deep breath, your body fully pressed against his, the heat between you undeniable. “Fine,” you murmur, dragging your fingers up the back of his neck, playing with the curls at the base of his skull. “I want you, Jon.”

The second the words leave your lips, his grip tightens, his hands sliding down to your thighs before flipping you onto the couch, pinning you beneath him. You let out a surprised gasp, but it quickly turns into a soft moan as his lips crash against yours again, this time more urgent, more possessive.

“You have no idea how long I been waitin’ to hear that,” he murmurs between kisses, his lips trailing from your mouth down to your neck, his hands roaming every inch of you.

Your head tilts back against the cushions as you breathe out, your heart pounding. “Then why the hell did you wait so long?”

Jon lets out a low laugh, his breath hot against your skin. “’Cause you play too damn much,” he teases, nipping at your collarbone. “Had to let you catch up.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at his hair just enough to make him groan. “And now?”

Jon lifts his head, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. He smirks, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip before leaning in so close you can feel every word as he whispers, “Now, I ain’t holdin’ back no more.”

Jon’s kiss is slow, deep, and consuming, like he’s savoring every second of finally having you in his arms. His body presses against yours, his warmth sinking into you, making it impossible to focus on anything but the way he feels—solid, strong, right. His hands explore, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before gripping you like he’s afraid you might slip away.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something deeper than just desire. Possession. Affection. Something real. His thumb strokes your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the heat burning between you two.

“You sure you ready for this, baby?” he murmurs, his voice husky, his breath fanning against your lips.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding, but there’s no more hesitation. The tension, the teasing– it was always leading to this. To him.

You nod, looking into his eyes with a level of certainty that surprises even you. “I’m sure,” you say, your voice soft but filled with passion. “I want this. I want you. Now.”

He groans against your lips, his hands sliding down to the waistband of your pants, undoing them with a practiced ease. Every touch sends a wave of pleasure coursing through you, making it harder to think, harder to breathe. You tug at his sweats in return, eager to get him closer, to feel all of him, and when the last barrier is gone, the world outside completely fades away. 

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel him, feel all of him, as he enters you. Moans fall from your lips as your walls adjust to his length, entirely consuming you as he slides in deeper. The sensation is intense, overwhelming, and it leaves you breathless as you both adjust to the fit.

You move together, the rhythm natural, fluid, as though you’ve been doing this forever. His groans match your own, every snap of his hips intensifying the connection between you. The way he touches you, the way he kisses you, it’s all so much more than physical. It’s about something deeper, something you both have been unknowingly craving for so long. There’s tenderness in every touch, urgency in every kiss, and beneath it all, there’s that deep, undeniable love that’s starting to take shape.

“God, Y/N,” Jon groans against your skin, his voice strained, as if it’s taking everything in him to keep control. "You feel so fucking good. So perfect.” He presses you closer, if that’s even possible, and you can feel him, feel every inch of his body hard against yours, as if he can’t get close enough. Each touch, each kiss, feels like an explosion of raw, unfiltered emotion, and as you move together, there’s an undeniable sense of belonging that wraps around you both like a cloak. His hands are everywhere, tracing the lines of your body, pulling you closer to him with every breath, every movement.

Your lips are caught in a feverish kiss, hungry yet tender, each one of his caresses sending waves of electricity through your body. His lips leave your mouth only to graze your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, making you tremble beneath his touch. There’s something about the way he kisses you, something intimate and all-consuming, that makes you feel like he’s not just touching your skin—he’s touching your soul.

"You feel so damn good," Jon murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His hands slide down your back, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the way he's completely consumed by this moment, this connection. His lips find the soft curve of your neck again, pressing kisses there that make you tremble, and you can’t help but moan softly.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, your voice shaky, your body vibrating with need. Every inch of you is on fire, every nerve alive with the sensations he's stirring within you. You want him, need him, and there's no turning back now.

He looks at you then, his eyes dark and filled with raw emotion. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N,” he breathes, his lips hovering near yours. “You’re mine. I’m all in. Always have been.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sincerity in his words, at the vulnerability he’s showing you. The intensity of what’s between you both only deepens, and you can feel the truth of it, settling between you like a promise.

"I’m all in too, Jon," you breathe, your voice steady now, filled with the certainty of everything you've been feeling. "Always have been."

His lips meet yours once again, and this kiss is different. It's softer, more intimate, filled with everything you’ve both been hiding—desire, love, longing. Every part of you is connected to him now, body and soul. You move together, slow and steady, savoring every touch, every kiss, like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

You can feel him, feel the depth of his affection, his love for you, and you respond with the same intensity, giving everything you have to him. The world outside doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just the two of you, here, in this moment, and nothing could ever compare to the way he makes you feel.

“Fuck, Jon…” you moan, your head falling back. “I’m–”

“I know, baby,” he groans in the crook of your neck, “I know.”

And as you move together, your bodies becoming one, there’s a sense of completeness, a feeling that you’ve found exactly where you belong. And when you finally reach the peak of that all-consuming desire, it’s more than just physical pleasure. It’s an emotional release, a release of everything you’ve been holding back, everything you’ve been too scared to say.

When you both collapse into each other’s arms, breathless and sated, you can’t help but smile. There’s no question anymore. What you’ve shared tonight is only the beginning. This is only the start of something deeper, something real. And you know that with Jon, you’ve found exactly where you’re meant to be.