#for a quick little thing this turned out really good

[celiababy]

already in love w ur page! i would love to see dads bestfriend joel from you!!

hi! thank u sm!! and ofc coming right up on a very hot and steamy platter 😛

Not Your Daddy

Pairing: Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You're back from your first year at college. You've changed and Joel is quick to notice.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (36/19), swearing, p in v, size kink, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (fem!recieving) no Sarah, alcohol

Celia's note: Heres jus a lil something :) (not proofread sorry) also part 3 of ain't right is coming so so soon I promise!!

Joel Miller and your father were good friends.

When you and your dad moved in next door a little over three years ago, they hit it off quickly. Their tendency to take on random jobs for cash is what bonded them. Also sports.

You were shy then, never able to hold eye contact and always avoiding him whenever he was around.

But thankfully, you've grown into a woman. Your first year at college changed you.

Now, you were back for the summer, eager to sleep in your own bed and spend time with your home-town friends.

But honestly, you were most excited to see Joel.

You wanted him to see how much you've grown. See how mature you've become, how confident.

You always had a little crush on him—mostly because he was the kindest out of all your dad's friends.

You also wanted him to be the one to pop your cherry.

You were a virgin, and kinda always fantasized about Joel being the one to take it from you.

Sure, you’ve done some stuff with guys, but never gone all the way. You were saving that for him.

You knew it wouldn't take long until he made an appearance.

Your dad had offered to host a small get-together to celebrate you being back. He would barbecue in the backyard and hold bets for the basketball game.

It was really just an excuse for him to break out the grill and gamble, but you didn't care. Only because you knew Joel would be there.

You even put on your shortest white sundress and blew out your hair for the occasion.

Your body was buzzing with the idea of seeing him again.

You wondered if he had changed at all.

Your mind started spiraling at the thought.

What if he had changed? What if he was dating someone now? What if he was engaged?

You glanced in the mirror at your nearly perfect reflection and suddenly felt so silly. What if this was all for nothing?

You didn't have long to ponder that thought because the doorbell rings.

You peak out your window and see Joel's truck in the driveway.

Your dad answers the door downstairs, the faint murmur of voices distracting your ears.

The anticipation was gnawing at you like a hungry dog.

After collecting your nerves, you slowly descend the stairs to meet them in the kitchen.

The loud cussing gave away their location. "You've lost your damn mind if you think there's a chance in hell the Privateers of all fucking teams are gonna beat—oh, hey darlin'," Your dad greets you, clearing his throat like he wasn't just cussing out Joel.

His back is to you, but when he turns around, your heart fucking ignites.

He's just as handsome as the day you left. He looks momentarily stunned by you, his eyes flickering all over your figure. God—how was it possible for someone to change so much? You looked more than amazing.

He immediately feels ashamed for basically checking you out in front of your dad, his eyes snapping back up to your face.

"Christ kid, they feedin' you up there at A&M?" He teases before stepping in for a hug.

He even smells the same as he did all those months ago, pine and smoke. You feel relieved.

It seems like the only thing thats different about him is a few gray hairs.

"Hey Joel," you greet with a giddy smile, hugging him back and relishing in his warmth. "How are you?"

Joel is very surprised. He almost doesn't recognize you. You're so much more...more.

"M'alright, aside from the fact that your dad's gonna give me a fuckin' aneurysm one of these days."

You laugh and shake your head. "Fighting about the game tonight?"

"Yeah, this fuckin' asshat thinks the longhorns might lose tonight—messin' up the whole fuckin' mojo," Your dad rambles, his voice beginning to raise before the doorbell rings again. "I'll get that, need to get away from this traitor." He snorts before heading to the door and leaving you both alone.

Joel rolls his eyes before landing his gaze back onto you and your cute little sundress. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns to face you with his body.

"You behavin' up there at school?" He asks light-heartedly, though you find it excruciatingly hard not to reply in some suggestive way.

"Mhm," You hum unconvincingly with a charmingly guilty smile, holding back a laugh.

Joel cocks a brow, pretending to look at you judgmentally. "Lyin’ is a sin, y’know." He huffs, a smile creeping on his lips.

“I’ve been good, just a lotta temptations s’all..” You murmur softly, your body naturally drifting closer to Joel by swaying on your feet.

The tension in the room is palpable.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head the tiniest bit to the side, his voice dropping what seemed like several octaves.

In fear of your voice cracking when giving a verbal response, you opt for a nod of your head, but then shrug just to tease him.

He glares at you but then scoffs, shaking his head.

"When'd you become such a little shit-stirrer, huh?" He chides, reaching over to ruffle the top of your hair.

You laugh before pushing his hand away, your fingers lingering on his wrist for longer than it needed to.

His skin is warm, he's almost hot to the touch. You're having a very hard time tearing your eyes away from his face.

All the sudden, your father calls you into the other room.

"Get in here! Max and Ruby wanna hear about your classes." Max and Ruby being your neighbors who had undoubtedly stopped by for the party.

You peer up at Joel, your eyes almost begging him to ask you to stay. But instead, he gestures with his head for you to listen to your dad.

"Go on now," He husks out, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Reluctantly you leave him behind in the kitchen, your body still whirring with the adrenaline high you got from just talking to him.

***

It was nice seeing everyone that stopped by for the party. You hadn't realized how much you missed your people.

But Joel was making it hard to concentrate on conversation when you guys were playing eye-tag the entire night.

He really couldn't help himself. There was just something so magnetic about you now—it was impossible to tear his eyes away.

He watched you talk to some of your high school friends, then get up to fetch something from the kitchen.

He couldn’t stop his gaze from falling to your ass once you turned around, his cock twitching in his pants because of the way your dress taunts him with its length.

He clears his throat.

Fuck was he thinking.

This was you he was ogling for christ sake. His best friends daughter.

These thoughts were not allowed. He needed to shut this down.

But the night goes on anyway, people getting more drunk and rowdy with each passing second.

Especially your father, who was currently in a screaming match with his work buddy about the game. They're all crowded around the small box tv in the kitchen, intently watching the tiny screen.

You're watching them from afar, amused by your father and the absurdity of it all.

"Ah fuck, we're outta ice," your dad groans, lifting up the empty bowl in annoyance. "Alright, one of you sons of bitches needs'ta make an ice run, m'not missing this game."

Joel groans out, dragging his hand down his jaw. "We're obviously gonna win—the team's up 46. Make the damn run yourself." He berates your father, who in turn just shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand at Joel.

"Every time I don't watch the game to completion, we fuckin' lose. M'staying riiiight here."

"Fuckin' superstitious bastard." Joel groans from under his breath, picking up his truck keys from the counter. "You want some more beer while I'm out? Maybe my liver too? God knows you need a new one, goddamn alcoholic."

You're laughing at them in the corner, finding their banter extremely amusing.

Then, you suddenly realize this might be your chance to spend more alone time with Joel.

You lurch forward, quickly blocking his path. "Can I come with?"

He looks down at you, a barely noticeable smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He's just about to reply to you before your drunk father cuts in.

"Ya, go with him, he can't carry the ice by himself or else his back’ll give out."

Joel turns his head to yell at your dad. "Shut your damn mouth," he barks, then turns back around to face you, placing his hand on your lower back. "'Course sweetheart, c'mon."

The drastic change in his voice when he talks to you versus your father makes your heart flutter.

He guides you outside to his truck, only dropping his arm from your back when he opens the passenger door for you.

Hopping inside, you settle yourself into the worn down bench seat. Your eyes follow him as he rounds the front of the vehicle, swinging open the driver side door and cranking the engine.

His old country music starts blaring from the speakers of the car, accompanied by the loud drum of his engine.

He’s quick to whip out of the driveway, steering with one muscular arm on the wheel.

You want to drool at the sight—you know your other lips most certainly are.

"So, you got a boyfriend up there at school?" He asks after clearing his throat.

He wants to subtly test the waters, whether he knows it now or not.

You smile, the thought of dating any guy besides Joel was laughable.

"Nope. They're all kinda gross."

"Gross? Yeah, well, most guys your age are." He mumbles, thinking back to his late teens, early twenties—Yikes.

"What about you? Got a woman yet?" You ask, following his line of questioning.

Joel scoffs, keeping his eyes trained on the road. “Does it look like I got a woman in my life?”

He looks down at himself for a second to get his point across, making you follow his gaze.

His wrinkly navy shirt had paint stains on it, his jeans were so old, they looked one wash away from disintegrating, and his beard needed a trim.

You try to stifle your giggle by turning your head away. “Yeah, guess not.”

Your mind starts wandering off, imagining what being Joel's woman would look like...having dinner together...sharing a bed...showering together...

God you wanted to be his girl so bad.

You hear yourself speaking before you even know what you’re saying. “Maybe I can help you—y'know, find a woman n’all.”

Joel casts you an assessing glance, cocking his eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? N’how would you do that?”

He doesn’t even mean to sound sexy but the way he talks makes you wanna melt.

“Well, for starters, a haircut might do you some good.” You tease, scooting closer to him on the bench seat to fiddle with the overgrown hair by his neck.

The way your body is turned to face him gives Joel a clear view down the front of your dress, the skin of your breasts making his cock twitch.

“What’re you talkin’ about? My hair looks great.” Joel knows he’s lying, but he just wants to see you laugh.

Which you do. “Yea, maybe to a blind chick.”

“Oh, you got jokes, huh?” Joel chides, using his free hand to come up and playfully tug at your hair.

You erupt in giggles, swatting his hand away while simultaneously trying to tug his hair back.

Eventually, you two stop messing with each other, but you reiterate that you're serious.

"I mean it—it’d be super fun giving you a make-over."

Joel pulls into the gas station and shifts his truck into park.

"You've lost your damn mind if you think I'm gonna let you get anywhere near my head with clippers."

You roll your eyes and giggle, following him out of the vehicle.

"C'monnn, it'll be fun!" You squeal, trailing behind him as he walks into the store, the bell chiming as you both enter.

He pretends to ignore you, walking along the isles to the freezer section.

"I'll be super careful," You muse, snagging a bag of skittles from off one of the shelves before he can notice.

“I promise I won’t fuck up your cut.” You joke, laughing at yourself.

“Hey—watch it.” Joel warns when hearing your profanity, snapping back to look at you, only half-joking.

You roll your eyes—it's ironic coming from him who cusses like a sailor. You brush past him as he opens the freezer, letting your back lean against one of the glass doors, facing him.

"You're not my daddy, y'know. Can't tell me what to do." You purr, a shit-eating grin beginning to form on your perfect face.

Joel feels his blood pressure spike.

You're making this impossible for him and you know it.

His body moves for him before he can stop himself.

After he grabs two ice bags, he closes the freezer and subsequently steps closer to you, popping your personal space bubble.

"You're right. M'not your daddy." He husks, looking down at you and your parted lips. Your chests are centimeters away from each other, and you find yourself holding your breath. “Consider yourself lucky.”

The way he’s looking down at you like prey yet speaking so nonchalantly has your brain spinning. There was definitely an underlying threat in his words.

Before you can respond, he’s turned around and walking up to the register, throwing down a 10 dollar bill and telling the cashier to keep the change.

Science can’t explain the drastic acceleration your heart rate just experienced—but you can.

Joel fucking Miller.

He had to be insinuating something, right?

Your face is hot and so is the rest of your body, stumbling to catch up with him as he walks out the store.

He lugs the ice into his trunk like nothing happened, the tension in his muscles catching your eyes.

Yet, he still comes around to the passenger side, opening the door for you.

Now was your chance to get him back.

You lift yourself up in the truck, purposefully climbing into the bench seat in a way that gave Joel a clear view of your ass—as well as your thong that wasn't really covering much.

His hand clamps down so hard on the car handle that it nearly crumbles under his grip.

You hear him clear his throat before the door slams shut next to you, making you jump a bit.

When he passes in the front windshield, he's shaking his head and dragging a hand down his scruffy jaw. You can't help but giggle at his exasperated expression.

His takes longer to get into the car and start things up this time, trying real hard not to meet your instense gaze.

When he refuses to make eye contact, you huff out a breath and rip open your skittles bag.

This catches Joel's attention.

"You pay for that?"

"...sure." You murmur unconvincingly with a shrug, trying not to smile. "Want some?"

He watches as you pop a few in your mouth, holding out the bag for him.

Begrungingly, he grumbles out a 'yeah' and holds out his palm.

***

The party had fizzled out when you guys returned. There were a few stranglers sitting around and chatting, but for the most part, things seemed to be dying down.

So much for the ice.

Your dad and his friends had migrated to the living room and once Joel put the bags away, he joined them.

He sat on the couch with a grunt, his legs immediately settling into the manspreading position.

You tried not to drool but your mouth was definitely salivating. To avoid moaning just at the sight of him, you head upstairs, the old wood boards creaking beneath your feet.

You don't see it, but Joel's got his eyes on you, following you with his gaze till you're out of sight.

He feels guilty thinking about how much he wants to fuck you when he's literally sitting right next to your father, but he can't help himself.

It's a while before you come back down, when you do, theres a razor in one hand, clippers in the other.

"No." Joel instantly says, shaking his head.

"Yes." You squeal, beaming down at him.

"Awh, go on Joel, you been needin' a clean up." Your dad chimes in, smacking his shoulder. His other buddies encourage it until he has no choice than to give in just so everyone would shut up.

"Fine—fine. Y'all gon' get yours, thats for damn sure." Joel grumbles, stomping up the stairs.

You're laughing all the way up, bubbling with excitement.

"Come down and give us the reveal when you're done!" Your dad screams to which you giggle.

You basically shove Joel into your bathroom, pulling in a stool for him to sit on.

"You better know what yer doin'." He grunts, sitting down on the stool and looking at you with weary eyes.

"Anything I do to you would look better than what you have now."

Joel promptly stands back up when hearing your words, trying to walk away, but you grab onto his arm. "I'm kidding, I’m kidding! I promise I'll do a good job."

You press on his shoulders to sit him down again, your throat running dry when you see the way he’s glaring up at you.

He’s not actually angry—just a bit peeved that he doesn’t have enough self control to stop thinking about fucking you against the bathroom sink.

You start working, none the wiser, bringing the electric razor to his jaw.

Your bodies are close, Joel can smell your delicious perfume and it makes him wanna eat you up.

You start to notice how sometimes his eyes will flicker to your chest, before abrupdtly looking away and clearing his throat.

Your boobs did look great in this dress, maybe you should give him a better view...

The devilish thought pops in your brain and you're acting it out before you know it.

You set the razor down and grab the clippers, stepping around to the front of his body. "May I?" You murmur, not even waiting for his answer before straddling his lap.

You sit on his thighs and Joel feels himself straighten like a board.

“Kid—what do you think yer doin’?” He immediately sputters out, his expression stern.

He’s trying so hard not to look down at where your dress had ridden up from straddling him. He can almost see your cunt, for christ sake.

“Nothin’.” You murmur, bringing your shaking hand up to trim the hair on his jaw. You curse at yourself for not even having the wits to keep calm, you just know your flushed fave is giving you away.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel reiterates, completely unbelieving as his eyes drag down your body slowly.

Then, everything shifts.

There’s something more assertive in Joel’s demeanor that you can’t quite put your finger on, but you know it’s there.

You feel his calloused hand on your thigh, your body erupting in goosebumps when he travels it up dangerously high. Using his other hand, he grips your wrist, pulling it down and away from his face.

“Doesn’t look like nothin’ to me.” His voice is a low murmur.

You’re both locked in eye contact now, hearts beating in sync.

He hears your breath hitch and sees how your eyes are flashing between his gaze and lips. He knows what you’re after—he’s just not sure if he wants to give in yet.

You, on the other hand, are dying of anticipation. He’s not budging, so you’re left to drag your hips up his lap and press down on the bulge in his pants.

"Girl—" He growls out before his hands come up to stop your waist from moving any further. "You don't know what your doin'."

"Do I have to fucking spell it out for you, Joel?" You rush out, dropping the scissors and latching onto his shoulders. You're panting and your face is pink, a needy/irritated expression woven into your features.

He feels your nails digging into his shoulder blades and sees that desperate look in your eyes—he's done for.

"No, I won't make ya do that f'me, sweet heart." He murmurs before abruptly picking you up from under your thighs.

A squeak of surprise leaves your lips at his effortless display of strength. You swallow your nerves after he sets you down on the counter, lodging himself between your legs.

"But I am gon make you say it."

Is he teasing you?

No, his face looks too serious for him to be teasing.

Oh, maybe he just wants clear clarification.

Your heart swells at his consideration.

Sucking in a deep breath, "I want your dick in my vagina." You giggle out, knowing he was probably expecting sexier wording. Joel smirks, crashing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah? S'that what you want?"

You're nodding against him, smiling wide because you just admitted something that you never thought you would.

"N'have you done that before? Y'know, dick in vagina." He copies your candance, but you stop smiling.

Out of all the fucking questions, that was the one that you didn't want to be asked the most.

You had hoped if you came on strong and flirted like you had done it a million times, he would've just assumed you weren't a virgin.

But the bastard always had to be so careful.

You didn't want him to know because you figured it would turn him off—then all you'd become is his best friend’s daughter all over again.

You knew if you lied he would just sniff it out anyway, but you tried nonetheless.

"...Yea. Couple times."

You watch as Joel's face forms into a 'yea right' kind of expression before he sighs out.

"Why'a lyin' to me, kid?"

You groan, throwing your head back and hitting the mirror with the back of your skull.

"Thats why—I don't want you thinking I'm a kid anymore. M'not. I'm grown. I'm grown and I want..your dick in my vagina."

He scoffs, dragging a hand down in jaw in disbelief. "Lyin' ain’t a good way to show me your grown."

He was right. You hated that he was right.

Your face crumbles because you think you just ruined this whole thing. Yet, Joel's hands come up to cup your face, holding them there a moment before they drift down to rest on your neck.

"S'alright, you're alright. M'not mad at'cha." He reassures, making sure you're looking in his eyes before he continues. "M'flattered sweetheart, I really am but-"

"Please don't say some bullshit like you don't think you're the man for this job because trust me when I say this Joel, you're the only guy I've ever wanted to be with."

You gush out, your mouth a leaky faucet. But Joel still looks conflicted.

You figured now would be a good time to bring out the big guns.

"If you won't do it cus I'm a virgin, I'll just have sex with the first guy I see, how about that?"

Joel's eyes darken and his jaw clenches. Now you've just pissed him off. "Don't manipulate me like that." He says sternly, to which you immediately falter in your confidence.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. I didn't mean it." You shake your head at yourself, biting down on your bottom lip. Joel sighs, leaning back but still keeping himself between your legs.

"Look," you start up again, bringing your hand down to hold his muscular bicep. "I've wanted to do this with you for so long. I really want it to be with you. Even if it's just one time, that's okay. Just need you in some way—Joel."

Your voice tapers off into a whisper because his stare intimidates you.

He exhales through his nose before running a hand through his hair and fixing his back to stand up straighter.

"Alright." He huffs, his face looking like he just surrendered in war.

"Alright?" You repeat, hopes high.

"I'll do it," He removes himself from between your legs and slides his grip down to your thighs. "But not right now."

Your heart drops.

"Why not?" You whine like a kicked puppy.

He brings one hand up to pinch your cheek. "Cus your daddy's down stairs, m'not a fuckin' monster." He grumbles before letting go and starting to walk out, but you grab him.

"Fine, but can we at least.." You hop down off the counter and pull him back, kissing him abruptly.

It starts slowly at first, you're both scoping out the scene, but then you get eager.

A tongue slips into his mouth and he returns the favor, his hands finding themselfs back on your hips.

In no time, he has your back up against the wall while he devours your mouth like a man starved. And just as his hand starts sliding up your dress and he's about to go back on his word, a voice comes from downstairs.

"C'mon down Joel, we wanna see the new cut!"

You groan as Joel slips from you, walking back downstairs while wiping his jaw and adjusting the boner in his pants. *** Now it was a waiting game.

Everyone but your dad's friends had left the party; they were just sitting around, watching TV and drinking beers.

You and Joel can't stop making eye contact from the opposite ends of the room. It was like torture not being able to fuck him immediately.

You're quick to conjure up a plan, though.

"Hey dad," you start, twirling a loose thread from your dress around your finger.

"Ya?"

"Didn't they reopen Chambers, like, two weeks ago?" You ask, trying to keep your voice as inconspicuous as possible.

Chambers was the local bar that your dad and his buddies loved to go to. You were just trying to plant a seed.

"Mm, yea, I reckon they did." He sighs out, eyes glued to the TV.

"S'been awhile since we've been there." One of his friends chime in.

"We should go grab a few drinks—I've missed picking up broads from there.." Another friend says, to which your dad promptly hits his arm because he doesn't like that kind of talk when you're present.

Nevertheless, he casts you a questioning glance. "You gon' be alright if we go?"

You try so hard to mask your instant glee. "Oh yeah, I'll be fine! Y'all go n' have fun."

"Alright punkin," They all stand, gathering up their wallets and keys—everyone except Joel. "You comin'?" Your dad asks him.

You glare at him to make sure he understands what you're trying to do.

Joel inhales through his nose before sighing out with a smile. "M'gonna call it a night, boys."

Thank god.

They all grunt and groan in protest, but eventually everyone filters out of the house.

You stand in the door jam and watch as your dad and his buddies file into the car, Joel standing on the porch to wave them off. Words are exchanged between everyone, mostly cussing, as they make their depature.

You both watch as they leave the culdesac, even waiting until you couldn't hear the car engine in the distance before looking at Joel.

Your breath catches in your throat when he turns around to look at you, folding his arms over his chest.

"Sly work." He murmurs, walking forward and forcing you to walk back into the house.

You're not sure why you're so nervous all the sudden.

Because you were pretending to be bold and experienced before, you had no choice but to mask your nerves. Now, that Joel knows the truth, you feel...vulnerable. But in the best way possible.

He backs you into the house before closing the door behind him, his head hanging to look at the ground.

"I had to get you alone somehow." You murmur with a shrug of your shoulders.

It was the truth.

You hear Joel chuckle and watch as he brings his head up to look at you. He's assessing you.

A beat of silence washes over you both.

"You said you would, Joel." You try to say sternly, although your voice wavers because you're scared he might've changed his mind.

"I know what I said." He steps closer, your torso's centimeters apart.

The eye contact is heavy—it feels like an avail against you. But you love it—love him. You're holding back from jumping his bones right by the front door.

"Good." You practically whisper, slowly taking his large hand in yours. You wait until he interwines your fingers before turning around and guiding him up the stairs.

Every creak under his and your feet sounds deafening in the silence between you both.

His hand is sweating, but so is yours.

When you make it to your bedroom, you walk inside and sit on the edge of your bed, gazing up at him.

"How many women have you slept with?" You hear yourself blurt before you can stop yourself.

His lips tighten into a line before he sits down next to you. Your sides are touching, his hands are resting on his knees.

"A few." He grunts, turning to face you. "Lot of 'em forgettable. But this," he gestures between the two of you. "ain't no comin' back from this, you hear me?"

You nod, your hand slipping over his knee. You're trying to trail it higher up his thigh, but he stops you with his hand.

"Need to make sure you know that before we do this. Don't want you regrettin' it later-"

"I won't." You say curtly, only because you know with complete certaintly that there was no way you'd ever regret this.

Everything is still for a moment, the only sound in the room is the both of your breathing. He's staring at you so hard, just waiting for even a hint of hesitation.

But it never comes.

In one swift movement, Joel's lips are on yours, pushing you back into the mattress and settling on top of you.

It makes you dizzy how effortlessly he's making out with you now.

He slots himself between your thighs and you moan at the feeling.

It's embarrassing how little he had to do in order to get you off.

But it's Joel, for christsake—he could just stand there and you'd probably find a way to orgasm at least twice.

It feels like he's engulfing you entirely; his musuclar arms wrapped around you, tongue down your throat, chests pressed together—pure bliss.

Suddenly and devastatingly, he breaks away for just a moment. "Sit up." He husks, to which you immediately oblige.

He lifts your dress up and off, momentairly stunned by the sight of your bare breasts.

"Christ, you're unreal." He groans before latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, using his hand to grope the other one.

You're a mess of moans, but you manage to speak in between. "Take your clothes off too," you whine, pawing at his shirt.

Joel grumbles, taking his time. He strips his shirt off and your hands are quick to latch onto his belt, fumbling with the leather strap but eventually yanking it out of the loops.

His hands come out to steady yours. "Slow down, no rush." He purrs in his texan drawl, making you shiver.

You groan out in frustration, letting your back fall down against the bed again. "You gonna make me wait all summer?"

"If you keep bein' a brat, then maybe." Joel huffs, yanking you back by the legs so he can pull your thong off. He dangles the stringy piece of fabric by his finger, looking at it assessingly.

"Joel!" You squeal, embarrassed. He effortessly holds you down with one hand against your stomach, not letting you swat it away from him.

"This what you go 'round wearin'?" He teases, grinning sharply.

You shrug, all squrimy, prodding him with your legs. "Would it turn you on if I said I wore them for you?"

You almost don't notice when Joel stuffs your underwear into his back pocket because of how drawn you are to his eyes. He's looking at you like a man starved—you love it.

"You been plottin' on me, is that it?" His voice makes your wet hole clench around nothing. He's teasing, but you also feel like you've just been caught.

You definitely weren't as suave as you thought you were.

"Stop makin' fun of me. " You huff with a flustered face, narrowing your eyes at him.

Joel smirks, finally prying apart your legs and taking a good, long look at your dripping cunt. "Christ almightly..." He groans at the sight of you, his cock straining hard against his jeans. "Pretty lil thing."

Your back arches off the bed when you feel Joel's thumb brush against your folds, tantilizingly slow. "Nice n' wet, atta girl." He muses, spreading your lips apart with his fingers.

You wanted to make a joke about him inspecting you like some doctor, but the words died quickly on your tongue when you felt him stroke your clit.

"Joel," You moan, hips squirming impatiently. "Fuck, I need you,"

"You got me, babygirl," Joel murmurs before lowering his head and devouring your cunt completely.

His tongue laps at you with fever, primarily focusing on your aching clit. The sensation nearly makes you pass out, especially when he pushes a finger inside of your hole.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," You whine, fisting the sheets so hard that your knuckles turn white.

Having someone eat you out and it being actually enjoyable is one thing, but having Joel Miller eat you out and it being amazing, was blowing your mind.

He didn't even take breathers.

Joel was consuming you like he didn't need air. Soon, you feel another finger stretch you open, then another, until Joel has three fingers smoothly pumping in and out of you.

It quickly becomes all too much for your little brain. "Hmph..fuck Joel m'gonna come," You whine, your hips staggering against his mouth.

He doesn't answer you, in fact, Joel just wraps his musclar arms tightly under your thighs, securing you in place. In this position, you were rendered completely immoveable.

He kept you right where he wanted you.

"Waitwait, shit, Joel," His tongue is relentless, drinking you up like he was dying of thirst in the desert. Tears are forming in the lining of your eyes, the stimulation overloading you.

"Fuck!" You cry, coming completely undone beneath him. Your entire body shakes with pleasure as you finish, thighs squeezing the sides of his head.

Joel laps you all the way through it, humming contentedly against your soaked cunt.

When your body goes limp against the bed, thats finally when Joel lifts his lips off you. His entire face down past his nose is drenched in your juices; the sight makes your stomach flutter.

"Holy fucking shit Joel," You whimper, out of breath, chest heaving up and down. "That was amazing."

Joel lands a couple soft warning pats against your cunt, making you flinch and squirm from overstimulation.

"You cuss like a sailor, y'know that?"

"S'hard not to when you're makin' me feel so good." You're mumbling, wiping at the tear streaks on your face with the back of your hand.

"Mm, I know," He hums in that caring tone, crawling on top of you and placing a few chaste kisses on your lips.

It doesn't take long for your libido to rise again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kissing him back.

You bring a hand down to palm at his boner, giggling into the kiss. He groans at the feeling, rutting his hips into your hand. "Fuck me now please," You say breathlessly into his ear, nipping and licking at his neck.

He scoffs at your enthusiasm.

Finally, Joel pulls his pants off, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

You're enamoured by the sight of it. Long in length, even bigger in girth. You practically start drooling.

"You got a starin' problem too." Joel grumbles, grabbing you by the jaw and tilting your head up so he can kiss you again.

You chuckle into his lips, breaking away for a moment to speak. "I can't help it. It's handsome..you're handsome." You muse, getting a fist around his cock, managing to stroke it a few times before Joel stops you.

You don't have time to think or argue before he turns you over onto your side, situating himself behind you.

He's spooning you, except his left arm is hooked around your chest and his right has your leg lifted up, allowing his cock to slip between your folds.

Once again, he's got you right where he wants you.

"Joel," You bring your hands up to hold onto his forearm, pushing your ass back into him. "Put it in." You all but demand, trying to desperately grind your cunt on him.

He tightens his grasp on your collarbone, pulling you tighter against his chest. "Keep your leg up baby," Joel mutters lowly in your ear, letting go of your leg to guide his cock to your entrance.

His fat tip prods against your willing hole, making you dizzy with need. He runs his fingers along your folds one last time, gathering up your slick and using it to lubricate his cock.

Your heart is beating a million miles per hour. The moment you had been dreaming of for so long was finally here.

Joel, taking your virginity—your prayers were answered.

Slowly, Joel starts inching his way inside, the stretch making you gasp.

It feels fine at first, just a dull ache, but then it hurts—bad.

You squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth, trying to push through the pain. However, your body clenches down on the intrusive appendage, causing Joel to groan out.

It feels good for him, but he's been around the block a few times to know what's happening.

"You okay? I need'a stop?" He asks in that raspy voice of his, to which you immediately shake your head.

"Nonono, god no, don't stop. Just—just ram it in." You say foolishly, making Joel scoff.

"No, sweetheart, as much as I want to—bad idea." He brings his hand back down between your legs, rubbing a few slow circles into your clit. "Just relax and open up for me, thaaaats it," He encourages in that tone that lights fires in your core.

The perfect stimulation on the bundle of nerves made you forget all about the pain, letting your hole ease up a bit.

He takes the oppurtunity to keep breaching you deeper, peppering kisses to your neck and back in the process. His fingers stay glued to your clit, and before you know it, he's half way inside.

Your holding onto him so hard that your nails are leaving imprints on his forearm.

But you're so full of him and it's perfect. You can feel every twitch, every notch, every vein; or maybe you're just convincing yourself you can. Either way, mewls and moans are slipping from your lips and feeding Joel's growing ego.

"You feelin' good sweetheart?" He rasps in your ear, thrusting back and forth till he reaches that half way mark. You nod frantically, craning your neck to face him, desperate for a kiss.

He satisfies your wishes, kissing you slowly and passionately, like everything you've ever wanted.

His dick in you, his tongue down your throat, his arms pinning you to him. Fuck.

But you still want more.

In a shocking move, you slam your hips back against him, burying him all the way inside.

Moans fill your little bedroom, both his and yours, and for a moment, a flash of regret hits you like a truck.

He's big, and it fucking hurts.

But once the initial pain subsides, it’s like ecstasy.

"Fuck—girl, what'd ya do that for?" Joel hisses, tensing up because he's trying not to come fast.

"Couldn't wait," you pant, tears spilling out the corners of your eyes. "Please move." You're pleading because being stationary is somehow even more painful. You squirm in Joel's strong grasp, trying to stop the ache between your legs.

He's no match for you.

In a gentle but swift motion, Joel situates himself on top of you, closing your thighs together and putting them on one side of his body—all while still inside of you.

He cages you in with his big strong arms, looking down at your needy expression as he gradually starts rocking his hips into you. You're twisting your torso to remain looking at him, clawing at his biceps with your nails.

"This how you like it?" He huffs out, the sweat evident on his brow. "Deep n' slow?"

You want to respond to him, but it's hard to because every other sound you make is a moan.

He's so deep and never fails to hit the one spot that just makes you melt.

Opting for a non-verbal response, you nod with fever, gyrating your hips to meet his thrusts.

He chuckles, the sound alone makes you wanna come.

His name slips from your lips like a prayer—Joel finds it so cute because when he hits deep, your voice raises in pitch.

But he's no better, he'd been groaning in your ear since the start of it. He really cant help it, your cunt is like a silky, wet vice molded perfectly for his cock.

Joel lifts one of your legs up to his chest, securing his muscular arm around your thigh to keep it there. He continues he's deep thrusts, only this time picking up rhythm. He also brings his other hand down to lazily rub circles in your clit.

Christ.

Your head lolls back and your eyes roll into the back of your head. The stimulation was insanely perfect and all too much at the same time.

Your body wracks with jolts and spasms—your body trying to cope with everything it's feeling. Joel takes notice, a proud and lopsided smile spreading across his face.

"M'gonna cum," You whine, your body writhing against him with each thrust.

Your pussy is clenching down on him with each piston of his hips, Joel is not far behind you.

He rubs your clit in a way that makes you come undone, your back arching up off the bed and your toes curling from pleasure.

At the same time, Joel picks up his pace, only to pull his cock from inside you and pump it a few times before unloading his seed onto your naked torso.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the heavy breathing coming from the both of you. Joel's staring down at your pussy, entraced with the way your hole is constricting around nothing.

Then, he looks at your face. Your eyes are closed, your lips are parted, your chest is heaving up and down. He's admiring you and all your fucked-out glory.

He brings a hand up to your face, wiping off the tear stains with his thumb. "You alright?" He husks out, looking down at you assessingly.

"M'perfect." You coo, slowly opening your eyes and leaning up to kiss him. Joel returns it, loving the way your mouth opens so readily for him.

He'd have to try it out with his dick next time.

"Can we go again?" You murmur into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

Joel scoffs because he thinks you're kidding. You're not. When he realizes this, he shakes his head in disbelief, pushing you down onto the bed by your shoulders.

"Don't worry, we got all summer."

[bootycallin]

I see your reader who needs their clit played w, I raise you....Vi x reader who needs penetration to cum? And Vi just playing w her clit, edging her, and it feels good obviously but she just need need needs to be filled up to cum and Vi is so condescending about it and just won't give her what she wants okay I'm rambling but think ab it

UGHHH this lowkey sucks but i wanted to write it. cw: wlw. female reader with strict female anatomy. pet names (cupcake, baby, etc.). clit play obvs. dacryphilia if you squint a lil. a littttle degradation? idk. kinda fluffy at the end. not proofread.

this is torture.

one mention of it. one single mention of it to her and she’s on you. she’s making it her life’s mission—not one thing is going inside you. not her tongue, strap, fingers- whatever.

she wants you to feel what it’s like.

“vii…!” she could listen to you cry and whine for ages, really. she’s humming against your clit, and only your clit. she’s not tried to move down once. it’s frustrating—worse when your clit’s so fucking sensitive you’re bucking up into her, back away, all the way back to her eager tongue.

“mhh… what, cupcake?” she knows damn well what. you’re almost in tears, poor girl. but she wants to hear it from you. she needs to hear it from you.

“f-fuck—vi, too much…!”

how do you explain it’s not? it’s not too much, but it’s so little at the same time. every little touch of hers on your clit feels like electric shocks, poor spent bud twitching under the wet muscle. and yet it felt so good. but not enough, and god, you just wanted to fucking cum. by now you could’ve let it all go, but nooo.

because vi is as stubborn as a goddamn mule. and she’s gonna do whatever she sets her mind to. and right now, that’s making you cum through your clit.

“so wet,” she briefly nips at your clit, grinning at the way you squeal and arch your back at the shock that runs up and down your spine.

“pretty fucking baby.” she says, and you don’t have to look at her to know she’s got a shit-eating (well, pussy-eating) grin on her face. her attack is only briefly stopped, as she replaces her tongue with her fingers, pulling the hood of your clit back and running sharp little circles right on the nub. her movements are quick, and she only needs one finger to make you fucking scream.

“shiiit!-“ you’re sure you sound stupid, but you can’t help yourself. your legs try to close out of instinct, but vi is right there to force your legs open, tutting.

“no, no. keep those legs open,” does she really think you’re listening?

“fuck, fuck, viiii…!” you whine, throwing your head back. fuck, so cute. vi can’t help but think, watching your thighs twitch, toes curling into the sheets, pretty back arching. her fingers are working on automatic, even as she lifts from between your thighs and kisses up the valley of your breasts.

“ah-!”

her hand is firm holding open your thighs, fingers still working on your wet, sensitive nub. she kisses up your tits, trailing up, up, up. a kiss to the underside, to your pretty areola, right on top of your nipple, a sharp gasp catching in your throat. she’s hungry, giving open mouthed kisses to your perky nipples, biting, working her tongue the same way she did when you were making out.

your brain’s as messy as your pussy. wet, plain dirty noises sounding, along with your echoing moans and whines and whimpers that turn her own brain into mush. she could cum untouched just listening to you moan and cry like this. there’s a particular little gush of wetness on her fingers that tells her she’s on the right track, the way your noises get somehow needier and louder. you’re close, she can tell. she’s growling as she slobbers on your chest, tits still in her mouth as she makes an effort to look at you and give both tits the same attention as she gives your dripping cunt.

“vi, vi, vi, vi—“ fucking broken record. “fuuuck…!”

it’s something you’ve never felt before. you’re squirming, almost like you’re trying to run from her. you can’t close your legs to find some respite—so you’re left to bend your thighs and kick your feet slightly as if that would help anything.

“mmh, close?” she groans, finally letting your tits go and lifting her head, staring right down at you. you didnt notice how flushed her face was, coated in a slightest sheen of sweat. this was fucking hot for her too. her pussy’s aching like fucking crazy, but she’s not focused on that.

“baby’s gonna cum, yeah?” you could only reply with a dumb whine as her fingers press harder on your clit. she’s a blabber mouth, she can’t help it—“yeah. pretty baby’s gonna cum, hmm? like it when i play with your clit? isn’t it so good? see, don’t even gotta fill this slutty cunt up to make you cum.”

you can’t formulate phrases. you can just barely process her chuckle as you whine and cry, blubbering senselessly, you can just barely process as she fucking slaps your clit—and you burst. a flash of white over your vision, your back arching instinctively, body tensing.

the noises are fucking delicious for her. fingers working quickly on your clit even as you cum, watching as your pussy grows impossibly wetter with sticky cum, your voice raspy by now with how you scream.

she only has some mercy when you genuinely start to cry, figuring your clit’s too sensitive—and you can’t even breathe right, so she definitely got to her goal.

that doesn’t happen without her slapping your clit one last time, though, grinning almost cruelly at how you nearly sob.

her hand meets your cheek, gently rubbing her thumb over your skin and coaxing you to open your eyes. she kisses your tears away. lips just barely brushing over your wet lashes.

“that hurt,” you whined slightly, and she chuckled softly.

“yeah. sorry. overstimulated you a little.” and that’s because she had mercy. if she didn’t, you would be sobbing by now.

“but did it feel good?”

“yeah…”

…

“think you can handle another one?”

“no!”

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

[oldsoul007]

Guess

older!joel miller x brat!younger!reader

summary: Joel never asked to be saddled with you—wild, reckless, and always testing his patience—but what started as a favor turned into something he couldn’t ignore, and by the time he realized he was in far too deep, it was already too late.

a/n: I never got over brat summer, forced proximity, tension, banter, kissing, suggestive scenes

joel miller masterlist

The first time I see Joel Miller, he’s scowling.

Like, really scowling. Deep line between his brows, mouth set in a firm, unimpressed line, arms crossed over his chest like he’s already exhausted before I’ve even said a word.

And that just makes me want to push his buttons.

He was older—forty-five, maybe—but damn if he didn’t wear it well. Tall, broad, built like a man who knew hard work and even harder days. The kind of man who didn’t waste words or time on things he thought weren’t worth it.

“Y/n,” Tommy grins, throwing an arm around me, “meet my older brother, Joel.”

Joel gives me a once-over, slow and deliberate. I feel his eyes drag over me, taking in my short dress, the bare skin, the slight smirk tugging at my lips. And just for fun, I shift my weight, tilting my head, letting my smile turn just a little more smug.

Tommy, oblivious, keeps talking. “Figured you two should finally meet since you’re always hangin’ around.”

Joel sighs, clearly already over this interaction. “Yeah. Great. Nice to meet you.”

I raise a brow. “Wow. So warm. So welcoming.”

Tommy snorts. “Don’t take it personal. He’s always like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, tilting my head, eyes flicking back to Joel.

Joel just stares at me, like he’s debating whether or not to entertain me. Finally, he mutters, “Serious.”

I grin. “And I’m guessin’ Tommy here told you I’m the opposite?”

Joel doesn’t answer, but the way his jaw flexes tells me enough.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

I step a little closer, watching him carefully, waiting to see if he pulls back. He doesn’t—just watches me, unimpressed, unreadable, but I don’t miss the way his fingers twitch, like he’s restraining himself.

“You got somethin’ against fun, Miller?” I tease.

Joel exhales through his nose. “Just don’t got patience for trouble.”

I grin. “Good thing I ain’t trouble then.”

His eyes flick down to my lips for half a second before snapping back up. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Sure.”

Tommy laughs, clapping Joel on the back. “She’s a handful, huh?”

Joel shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before looking back at me. “You always this much of a pain in the ass?”

I beam. “You always this grumpy?”

His jaw tightens. I know I’m getting to him. And I love it.

Something about Joel Miller tells me he’s the type to resist—to hold himself back, to act like he doesn’t want.

But the way he’s looking at me now?

Yeah. He wants.

I never planned on ending up at Joel Millers house.

But life has a funny way of screwing with me.

One busted pipe in my apartment—water everywhere, maintenance useless, and suddenly, I had nowhere to stay. Tommy was out of town, and before I could even think of booking a motel, he was already on the phone, talking to Joel.

“Just for a few days,” Tommy had said. “Joel’s got the space.”

Joel, who was already looking at me like I was a problem before I even stepped foot in his house.

Now, standing in his doorway, duffel slung over my shoulder, I give him my best grin. “Miss me?”

Joel just sighs, running a hand down his face. “Just don’t make me regret this.”

“No promises.”

His jaw tightens, like he knew I was gonna say that.

I step past him, into his space, and the second the door shuts behind me, something shifts. It’s one thing to tease Joel out in the world, to push his buttons when there’s always somewhere else to go. But here? His house?

There’s nowhere to run now.

And by the way his eyes flicker over me—quick, sharp, like he already regrets agreeing to this—I can tell he’s thinking the same damn thing.

The first night at Joel’s place is… tense. In a way that has nothing to do with the fact that my apartment is currently unlivable and everything to do with him.

He didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat when Tommy volunteered him to take me in. He just grunted, muttered something about “just for a couple nights,” and now here we are.

Joel’s house is simple. A little messy but lived-in. It smells like sawdust, coffee, and whatever soap he uses. I shouldn’t be noticing those things, but I do.

“You got a spare bedroom, or do I gotta fight you for the bed?” I ask, dropping my bag by the couch.

Joel gives me a look like he’s already regretting this. “Spare room’s down the hall. Not much in there, but it’s got a bed.”

I smirk. “A bed and a grumpy host? Wow, I’m spoiled.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand over his beard like he’s trying to summon patience. “You need anything, just… don’t.”

I grin. “Don’t what?”

He glares. “Don’t push it.”

Oh, but that’s my favorite thing to do.

—

It’s late when I finally settle in. The house is too quiet, too still, and I can’t sleep. Not used to this place, not used to him just a room away.

I pad down the hall, oversized t-shirt hanging off me, socks silent against the wood floor. The lamp in the living room is still on, and Joel’s sitting on the couch, looking lost in thought.

“Can’t sleep?” I ask, leaning against the doorway.

He looks up, eyes flicking to me—just for a second, just long enough to make me feel barely covered. He exhales, looking back at his floor. “Didn’t expect you to be the quiet type at night.”

I snort, walking over to perch on the arm of the couch. “Bet you thought I’d snore or talk in my sleep.”

Joel shrugs. “Still debatin’ it.”

I watch him for a moment, the way the lamp casts shadows over his face, the way he looks at everything except me. There’s something charged in the air, something neither of us want to acknowledge.

“You don’t like this, do you?” I tease, nudging his knee with my foot. “Having me here.”

Joel takes a slow look up at me. “Ain’t about likin’ it. It just is.”

I hum, watching him closely. “You’re so bad at lying.”

Joel’s jaw flexes.

And I know, I know, if I keep pushing, I’ll get something out of him. But for once, I don’t.

Instead, I stand, stretching dramatically. “Alright, Miller. I’ll stop bugging you. For now.”

Joel huffs. “Doubtful.”

I grin, heading toward the hallway. But just before I disappear into the dark, I hear him mutter—just low enough that I almost miss it.

“Sleep tight, trouble.”

And damn it, that shouldn’t make my stomach flip. But it does.

—

The thing about living with Joel? It’s too easy to mess with him.

I’ve been here for three days now, and I swear, every time I walk into a room, he looks like he’s debating whether or not to strangle me or throw me out. And honestly? I love it.

Like right now.

He’s standing in the kitchen, coffee in one hand, flipping through the mail like it personally offended him. His shirt is still wrinkled from sleep, hair a little messy, eyes heavy with whatever dreams he never talks about. And I? I’m perched on the counter, swinging my legs, eating the last piece of toast he made for himself.

Joel notices. His eyes flick to the empty plate in my hand, then to his own very empty hands, and then—then—he exhales so sharply it’s almost funny.

“Really?” he grumbles, setting the mail down with way more force than necessary. “You ain’t got hands to make your own damn food?”

I grin, taking a slow, deliberate bite. “Yours just looked better.”

Joel mutters something under his breath, something that sounds suspiciously like a curse, and turns to pour himself more coffee.

“Y’know,” I continue, voice sweet, “for a man who claims he doesn’t like me being here, you sure do take good care of me.”

Joel tenses. His grip on the coffee pot tightens.

“Wouldn’t have to if you took care of yourself,” he mutters, taking a sip.

I smirk. “Aww, Joel. You worried about me?”

He doesn’t answer. Just glares over the rim of his mug like he’s daring me to push him further.

So, of course, I do.

I hop off the counter, stepping closer, my bare feet silent against the floor. Joel watches me warily, like I’m a stray cat that might bite. I stop just in front of him, tilting my head.

“You sure you don’t like having me here?” I tease, my voice dropping just a little, just enough to make his fingers twitch.

Joel doesn’t move. Doesn’t step back. But his eyes darken just enough to make my stomach flip.

“You really wanna test me this early?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The challenge sends a thrill down my spine. I grin, leaning in just a fraction, enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

“Maybe,” I whisper. “Depends on what happens if I do.”

Joel huffs a laugh—one of those deep, frustrated, you’re-gonna-be-the-death-of-me laughs. Then, suddenly, his turn to get close. He leans down, voice right against my ear.

“You keep pushin’,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin, “you ain’t gonna like what happens.”

My pulse jumps. My smirk falters—just for a second.

Joel sees it. And the bastard smirks.

Then he pulls back, grabbing his coffee, walking away like he won this round.

I exhale sharply, watching him go, my skin still tingling.

I really need to stop underestimating him.

—

I know he’s awake the second I step through the door.

The lights are dim, but Joel’s still sitting on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, the other holding a half-empty beer. He looks relaxed—pretends to be, anyway—but his eyes flick to me the second I walk in.

I smirk. “You waitin’ up for me, Miller?”

Joel exhales sharply through his nose, setting the bottle down on the coffee table. “Just happened to be up.”

Uh-huh.

I ignore him, walking into the kitchen, feeling his eyes drag over me as I move. The dress I’m wearing is short, tight, and backless—very backless. My tattoo is on full display, the black ink running across, teasing the dip of my lower back.

I reach for a glass, pouring myself some water, letting the silence stretch, letting him look.

Finally, I hear him shift behind me. “Where the hell were you?”

I take a slow sip. “Out.”

“With who?”

I glance over my shoulder, raising a brow. “Didn’t know I had to check in with you, dad.”

Joel clenches his jaw. His fingers flex on his knee. “Y/n.”

I turn fully now, leaning against the counter, glass in hand. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” The lie is so blatant, so immediate, that I almost laugh.

I take another sip, watching him. “You sure about that?”

Joel doesn’t answer right away. His gaze flicks lower, over the curve of my back, the exposed skin, the ink. His jaw tenses even more—like he’s mad. Like the tattoo itself is personally offending him.

I set my glass down, smirking. “Something wrong?”

Joel exhales, drags a hand down his face. “You got no damn shame, you know that?”

I grin, stepping closer, closing the space between us. “And you got no damn claim,” I say, tilting my head. “So what’s your problem?”

Joel watches me, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes.

I lift a finger, tracing a slow, teasing line down my own spine, over the tattoo he won’t stop staring at. “You like it?” I ask, voice low.

His nostrils flare. His fists clench.

Then—just like always—he forces himself to lean back, to put space between us, to shove all that tension down deep.

I take my time walking past him, making sure he gets a real good look at what’s been driving him crazy all night. I can practically feel the heat of his stare burning into my skin, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

Not yet.

Instead, I reach for my water again, taking a slow sip, just to draw this out a little more. Joel exhales, long and slow, like he’s trying to keep himself calm.

I almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

“You always go out dressed like that?” His voice is low, rough, like he’s forcing himself to sound casual.

I smirk against my glass. “You always staring at me?”

Joel lets out a sharp breath, but he doesn’t deny it.

I finally turn, leaning back against the counter, crossing my arms so my dress shifts even higher up my thighs. His gaze flickers, betraying him for half a second before he locks it back on my face.

“I just don’t get why you feel the need to—” He waves a hand vaguely at me. “—put everything on display.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Everything?”

Joel rubs a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. “You know what I mean.”

I grin. “What, you don’t like my tattoo?”

He clenches his jaw. “Ain’t about the tattoo.”

I tilt my head, watching him closely. “Then what’s it about?”

He doesn’t answer.

I push off the counter, closing the space between us, slow and deliberate. “Is it the tattoo, or is it the fact that other people got to see it?”

Joel tenses. Just a flicker. Barely noticeable. But I see it.

And I know.

I smirk. “That’s it, isn’t it?” My voice drops, just above a whisper. “You don’t like that someone else got to look at me like this.”

Joel’s breathing is heavier now, his fists clenched at his sides. “Go to bed, y/n.”

I step even closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, smell the faded whiskey and aftershave clinging to his skin. “Make me.”

His jaw flexes. His hands twitch. For a second, I think he might actually do something, might finally snap and grab me, kiss me, claim me like we both know he wants to.

But then—

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face before turning away from me. “You’re a damn brat, you know that?”

I grin, victorious. “And you love it.”

Joel mutters something I don’t catch, shaking his head, still refusing to look at me.

I lean up on my toes, just enough to whisper near his ear. “Sweet dreams, Miller.”

Then I turn and head toward my room, my steps slow, unhurried, knowing damn well he’s watching.

Knowing damn well he won’t sleep tonight.

Not yet, anyway.

—

Joel is a walking contradiction.

Always looking out for me, always acting like I’m some damn problem he’s gotta fix. But then, when he thinks I’m not paying attention? He watches me.

Like right now.

I’m sitting on the tailgate of his truck, sipping a gas station soda, swinging my legs while he loads up the last of the supplies he picked up. The summer heat is thick, sticking to my skin, making me feel slow, lazy.

Joel, meanwhile, looks like he’s one deep breath away from losing his patience.

“Where’d you run off to last night?” he asks, not looking at me.

I smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

That gets me. I raise an eyebrow. “You are keepin’ tabs on me.”

Joel exhales, setting down a case of water a little harder than necessary. “Just know when you start trouble.”

I grin. “Who says I started trouble?”

He gives me a look.

Fair enough.

I take another sip of my drink, watching him work, the way his shirt clings to his back, damp from the heat. My stomach tightens, and I blame it on the weather.

“You got somethin’ to say?” he mutters, not turning around.

I smirk. “Nope.”

“Then quit starin’.”

I laugh, kicking my feet against the truck bed. “Oh, that’s rich.”

His jaw tightens. “What’s that mean?”

I tilt my head. “Means I see you lookin’, too.”

Joel freezes.

It’s quick. A small thing. But I notice.

For the first time, he actually looks at me, really looks. And there’s heat there, burning under all that restraint.

I set my drink down, hopping off the tailgate, stepping close—too close.

“You ever wonder what’d happen,” I murmur, “if you stopped pretendin’ you don’t want me?”

Joel’s breath is slow. Measured. He doesn’t step back. Doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” he says, voice low, gruff.

I tilt my head, biting back a grin. “Maybe I do.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Something dangerous.

For a second, I think maybe—maybe—he’s gonna snap. Gonna grab me by the waist, drag me in, let all that tension finally break.

Instead, he just exhales, long and slow, before stepping back.

“You’re trouble,” he mutters.

I grin. “You like trouble.”

Joel shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath as he turns away.

But his hands? They’re clenched into fists.

And that tells me everything I need to know.

—

Joel’s been trying to ignore me all damn day.

Which, honestly? Fair. I’ve been making it real hard for him.

I’m leaning against the counter in his kitchen, the space between us just enough for me to feel that slow, simmering tension that’s been building up all afternoon, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of—well, that’s the game, isn’t it?

Joel walks in, fresh from a shower, hair damp, t-shirt clinging to his chest just enough to make me look. He barely glances at me as he grabs a water from the fridge, pretending I’m not there.

Like I’ll just let him get away with that.

“You ever gonna put on some damn clothes?”

I smirk, not even looking up. “I am wearing clothes.”

Joel exhales sharply, taking a long sip of water. “Not enough.”

That makes me grin. Gotcha.

I stretch, letting the hem of my shirt ride up just a little. “Oh, relax. It’s just a t-shirt.”

Joel scoffs, finally looking at me. His eyes flicker down, slow, then back up, jaw tightening. Yeah, he noticed.

“Guess,” I say suddenly, watching him.

His brow furrows. “What?”

I sit up, tilting my head. “Guess what I’m wearing underneath.”

Joel exhales, shaking his head. “Not playin’ this game, y/n.”

“C’mon.” I stretch, making sure the hem of my shirt lifts just enough to tease. “Just one guess.”

“Clothes.”

I grin. “Not much of ‘em.”

That does it. His grip tightens on the bottle, jaw going stiff. He still doesn’t turn around, but I see it—the way his shoulders tense, the way his breath goes a little heavier.

But then, to my surprise, he plays along.

Joel finally turns, slow, lazy, eyes dragging over me in a way that makes my stomach flip.

Slow. Controlled. Like he knows exactly what this is doing to me.

And I feel it—his presence filling the space, the heat between us thick and undeniable. Joel stops just a breath away, too close for comfort, but I don’t move. I won’t.

“You’re awful pushy tonight,” he mutters, eyes dark as they settle on me.

I tilt my head, not backing down. “You’re awful curious for someone who doesn’t wanna play.”

Joel’s eyes drag over me, deliberate and slow, as if he’s taking in every inch, every detail. Then, like he can’t help himself, he leans in a little more—close enough that I feel the warmth of his body, the weight of his presence.

His breath hits my cheek, and I’m sure my heart skips a beat. I freeze, barely able to keep my focus.

The space between us is thick with something heavy, something that has my pulse racing, but Joel’s not moving. He’s standing there, looking at me like he’s debating something—maybe whether or not to keep playing. I keep my eyes locked on his, deliberately challenging, just to see how long he’ll stand there before he breaks.

I know he can feel it too—the weight of the air between us. It’s thick. Electric.

But I’m not the one to crack first.

I lean back a little, letting my hands slide across the cool counter, trying to act casual, like I’m not aware of every inch of space between us, of how close he’s standing now.

Joel doesn’t say anything for a while. He just watches me—his eyes intense, like he’s studying every move I make, waiting for me to slip up.

And then, in one smooth motion, he steps forward, close enough that I feel his presence without him even touching me. Just the weight of his gaze, the pull of his body.

I freeze for a second, breath catching in my throat. Damn it.

He doesn’t rush—he never does. Joel’s always deliberate, calculating. But I can see it now, the way his lips press together, the faintest twitch of his jaw like he’s trying to hold something back.

Without saying a word, his hand moves slowly to the bottom of my t-shirt. His fingers brush against the fabric, barely grazing the skin of my thigh. The touch is light—almost too light—but it still sends a shiver through me.

I stay still, even though every part of me is aware of what he’s doing, of the way his hand hovers, teasing, as if he’s testing my patience.

“Alright,” he drawls, voice lower now. “Guessin’ you want me to say somethin’ like… lace?”

My mouth goes dry.

Oh.

I wasn’t expecting that.

I recover fast, tilting my head. “Maybe.”

Joel takes a slow step closer, his eyes locked on mine, like he knows he’s caught me off guard. Like he’s finally flipping the script on me.

“Red?” he guesses, voice all deep and rough.

I swallow. “Wrong.”

“Black, then.”

I press my lips together, refusing to react.

“Bet they even have a little bow”

Joel just huffs a quiet laugh, taking another slow sip of water, looking way too satisfied with himself.

I narrow my eyes, sitting up. “You think you’re real smooth, huh?”

He just shrugs. “Ain’t that hard, darlin’. You’re an open book.”

And then, just as I’m about to respond, he shifts again—moving in, just enough to make the back of his hand brush mine. The contact is so light, but I feel it like a damn spark.

His lips are so close to my ear now, and I know he’s teasing. He’s testing me, waiting to see what I’ll do.

But I don’t move. I hold my ground, staring up at him, willing myself not to let the heat get to me.

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “but you ain’t nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

I try to keep my cool, but there’s a hitch in my breath.

Joel steps back then, like it’s nothing. But I can feel the pull, the weight of what just happened. I know he’s not done with this—not by a long shot.

��

Joel is pissed.

I see it in the way his shoulders tense as he shoves open the bar door, his grip firm around my wrist, dragging me outside like I’m some wayward kid in need of a lesson. The humid Texas night air wraps around us, thick and sticky, but it’s nothing compared to the heat burning between us.

“What the hell was that, y/n?” Joel snaps, letting go of my wrist just to turn and face me, standing toe-to-toe like he’s ready for a fight.

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “I was having a drink, Joel.”

“You were flirtin’ with every damn guy in there,” he growls, his hands landing on his hips like he’s holding himself back.

I smirk, tilting my head. “Oh, that’s what this is about? Didn’t realize you were keepin’ tabs on me.”

Joel huffs, his nostrils flaring as he shakes his head. “I am keepin’ tabs on you. Tommy asked me to keep an eye on you, and you—” He gestures toward the bar behind us, exasperated. “You don’t make it easy.”

I laugh, the alcohol warming me but not enough to dull the way my pulse spikes at his words. “I’m twenty-five, Joel. I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

“Well, you sure as hell act like you do,” he shoots back, eyes dark and burning with frustration.

That gets me. My spine straightens, my chin tilts up, and suddenly, I’m really not in the mood for this conversation.

“Excuse me?” I take a step closer, poking a finger against his chest. “I don’t belong to you, Joel. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Joel exhales sharply, like he’s trying to get a grip, but it’s useless because I can see it—the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers flex at his sides, the way his eyes flicker down to my lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up.

Oh, he hates this.

Hates that I push him.

Hates that I get under his skin.

Hates that he wants me.

“I didn’t say you belonged to me,” he mutters, voice lower now, rougher.

“But you sure as hell act like it.” My voice is quieter too, the space between us shrinking, the air crackling.

Joel clenches his jaw, breathing hard, and for a second, I swear he’s about to say something—admit something. But instead, he just lets out a frustrated growl, dragging a hand down his face.

“You drive me crazy,” he mutters.

I grin, stepping even closer, my chest nearly brushing his. “Yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it?”

Joel goes still.

I see it—the moment something shifts between us, the way his breathing changes, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to grab me, pull me closer, do something about it.

But instead, he just exhales sharply, turns away, and runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to physically shake me off.

“Get in the damn truck.”

I laugh, but there’s something breathless about it, something shaky. Because if he had made a move—if he had snapped—I don’t know if I would’ve stopped him.

Hell, I know I wouldn’t have.

But for now, I just smirk, walking past him with a slow sway in my step, knowing damn well he’s watching me.

And as I climb into his truck, I wonder just how long it’ll take before Joel Miller finally breaks.

—

Sometimes, Joel does the dumbest shit, and I can't help but laugh at how he digs himself deeper without even realizing it. I've been pushing him all night, just little jabs here and there, watching him get more and more frustrated. It's my favorite game-seeing how long I can mess with him before he finally cracks.

But this time? This time, he really crossed a line.

He thinks he knows what’s best for me, and the way he treats me like some helpless kid? It drives me insane. I’m 25, not a teenager, but he always acts like I need someone to babysit me. It’s honestly infuriating.

But I guess he just couldn’t let it go anymore.

I’m standing there, crossing my arms, staring him down as he tries to come up with something to say, but all he can do is look at me like I’ve broken his favorite damn toy. He’s so damn stubborn, but right now, there’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before—guilt.

Then, out of nowhere, Joel drops to his knees in front of me.

What the hell?

For a moment, I just stare at him, caught off guard.

I'm not even sure what he's doing, but the way he looks up at me-like he's some kind of punished dog-throws me off balance. He's trying to make a statement, I can tell. He's not embarrassed, but he's also not letting this go.

"I messed up," Joel says, his voice gravelly, as he slowly slides his hands up to rest on my thighs.

I blink at him, not sure how to react. The tension is different this time-this isn't about him giving in; this is something else entirely. There's no fear in his eyes. No submission. He's still the same stubborn bastard he's always been, but there's something else there too-something challenging.

He wants to make things right, but he's doing it on his terms.

"You're not sorry enough for this to work," | tease, holding back the grin that's threatening to break free.

He smirks, eyes flicking up to meet mine. He's still got that damn cocky attitude, even with me standing over him, and I don't know whether I want to slap it off him or kiss him.

Maybe both.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his hands tightening on my thighs, but there's no hesitation in his voice. "But I'm not getting off my knees until you know I'm serious."

I let out a laugh, not backing down, my body giving off every signal that I'm in control. "And what's that supposed to mean? You think this is gonna impress me?"

His grip on my thighs tightens, pulling me in closer, and now I can feel the heat of him through the fabric. But instead of giving me an inch, he's still staring up at me with that damn challenge in his eyes.

"You want an apology? You got it," he says, voice low and steady. "But l'm not some puppy you can just command. Don't think for one second you're gonna play me like that."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. I was expecting him to grovel, to at least try to show some weakness. But Joel? Joel doesn't do weakness.

"I never said you were a puppy," I murmur, looking down at him with a smile that's too smug for my own good. "But you are on your knees."

His eyes darken as he holds my gaze, not backing down, not even a little. "Yeah, and I'm here because you deserve the apology, not because I'm asking for permission."

The heat between us shifts again, and it's not the playful teasing anymore. It's something more-something a little darker, a little more real. He's not going to give in, but he's also not letting me win either.

"So, what do you want?" l ask, my voice almost a whisper, the challenge still there but mixed with something else.

Joel doesn't hesitate. "I want you to stop testing me and accept that I'm not going anywhere."

And for just a moment, it feels like he's got me right where he wants me.

But then, I realize-he's not the only one who knows how to play this game.

"Well, if you're so eager to apologize," | start, running my fingers through his hair, "maybe you can make it up to me in a way I actually want."

Joel looks up at me, his hands still gripping my thighs as his breath catches. There's a flicker of something in his eyes-something wild, but also totally surrendered.

"Name it."

The words land between us with the weight of a promise. And for the first time, I feel the air between us change completely. I step back, my body a little off balance from how suddenly he's shifted everything.

But damn, if that doesn't make my heart race.

And then—

His hands are on me.

Gripping my waist, dragging me in hard, pinning me against the wall like he can’t hold himself back another second.

“You happy now?” His voice is low, rough, wrecked. His breath is hot against my lips, his hands firm, possessive on my hips.

I grin, breathless. “Ecstatic.”

And then he’s kissing me.

It’s not soft. It’s not slow. It’s everything he’s been denying himself—all the tension, all the frustration, all the goddamn hunger crashing down on us at once.

I moan into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He groans, deep and low, like he needs this, like he’s craved this for so long it’s driven him mad.

His hands slide lower, gripping my thighs, lifting me effortlessly against him. I wrap my legs around his waist, gasping as my back presses harder against the wall, his body solid and hot against mine.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growls, dragging his lips down my jaw, my neck, biting just enough to make me gasp.

I laugh breathlessly, tugging his head back up, eyes locked on his. "Took you long enough to admit it."

Joel glares at me, but there's something wild behind it now, something dangerous. "You got no idea what you just started."

I smirk, running my fingers down his chest, feeling the way his breath shudders at my touch.

"Then don't stop," | whisper.

And he doesn't.

—

It’s like once we started, we couldn’t stop.

Every touch, every look, every little moment of tension we used to ignore? Now it’s all fire.

It starts in the kitchen. I brush past Joel to grab a glass of water, my fingers barely skimming his arm, and I swear I hear his breath hitch. It’s subtle, but I know him. I know how much I get under his skin.

And then, before I can even turn around, he’s on me.

One hand grips my waist, the other presses into the counter beside me, caging me in. His body is warm against my back, his breath hot against my ear.

“You do this on purpose,” he mutters, voice low, rough, like he’s barely holding himself together.

I smirk, tilting my head slightly, just enough that his lips graze my neck. “Do what?”

Joel exhales sharply, his fingers tightening on my waist. “Brat,” he murmurs, but it sounds wrecked, like he’s already given in.

And he has.

Because in the next breath, he spins me to face him, pressing me against the counter. His hands grip my hips, his body hot against mine, and I can feel the tension rolling off him.

“You’re playin’ with fire,” he warns, lips barely an inch from mine.

I grin, dragging my fingers through his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

Joel groans, kissing me.

Hard.

It’s desperate, messy, like every ounce of restraint he had is just gone. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him impossibly close, gasping into his mouth when his fingers dig into my skin.

We barely make it to the hallway before he grabs me again, pressing me against the wall, his mouth never leaving mine.

“You just can’t help yourself,” I murmur against his lips, breathless.

Joel groans, his forehead pressing to mine, his grip firm like he's staking a claim. "Neither can you."

And he's right. Because the second we're alone again, I'm on him-hands in his hair, pulling him down, both of us too far gone to stop now.

Because now that we've started?

We're never stopping.

—

I leave the bathroom door open on purpose.

And the glass shower door? Yeah, that stays cracked, too.

The hot water cascades down my body, steam curling through the air, fogging up the glass just enough to blur the edges but not enough to hide me. I know Joel’s home. I know he’ll walk past. And I know he won’t be able to help himself.

It takes a minute, but then—there he is.

I catch the movement out of the corner of my eye, the way he pauses in the doorway. I can’t see his face through the steam, but I know that look—the one where his jaw tightens, where his fists clench like he’s fighting every urge in his body.

I smile to myself and tilt my head back, letting the hot water pour down my neck, dragging my hands slowly over my skin.

Joel exhales sharply. “Jesus Christ, y/n.”

I bite my lip. Bingo.

There’s a beat of silence, thick with tension. And then—I hear him move. The rustle of fabric. The soft clink of a belt buckle. The sound of a shirt being pulled over his head.

My pulse spikes.

The shower door swings open wider, and suddenly—Joel is there.

Steam clings to his skin, droplets forming against the hard planes of his chest, his broad shoulders.

His eyes are dark, locked on mine, his expression somewhere between exasperation and something dangerous.

“You really are a damn brat,” he mutters.

Before I can reply, his hands are on me, gripping my waist, pushing me gently but firmly against the cool tile. His body is hot, solid against mine, his breath warm against my skin as he leans in.

“You left that door open on purpose,” he accuses, voice rough, wrecked.

I smirk, fingers sliding up his arms, feeling the tension there. “Maybe.”

Joel exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” But there’s something else in his eyes now—something wild, something hungry.

His hands grip my hips, fingers pressing hard into my skin, and he kisses me.

Hard.

It’s desperate, messy, like he’s been waiting for this, like every ounce of restraint he’s ever had just snapped. I moan into his mouth, pressing up against him, feeling the heat of his body, the way his hands roam, gripping, claiming.

"You gonna keep playin' games, sweetheart?" he mutters against my lips, his voice rough with need.

I grin, breathless, pulling him closer. "Always."

Joel groans, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath heavy, his fingers digging into my skin like he needs this.

And then he kisses me again.

And this time, neither of us stop.

—

The first night back in my apartment should feel good. Should feel like a breath of fresh air. No more waking up to Joel grumbling in the kitchen, no more stolen flannels, no more him lurking in doorways like he’s just waiting for me to do something reckless.

But it doesn’t feel good.

It feels wrong.

I don’t like waking up alone. I don’t like the quiet. I don’t like that Joel just let me go without a damn word.

So I do what I always do. I go looking for trouble.

And I find it at his doorstep.

Joel barely reacts when he opens the door and sees me standing there, arms crossed, wearing one of his shirts I forgot to return. His face is unreadable, but I know him. I see the way his shoulders tighten, the way his jaw clenches.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asks, voice low, cautious.

I step inside without waiting for an invitation, brushing past him like I belong there. Because I do.

“I dunno,” I say, throwing myself onto his couch. “Figured I’d see if you missed me.”

Joel exhales sharply, closing the door, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s already tired of this conversation. “Y/n—”

“—You didn’t even call me.” I cut him off, watching him carefully.

He shakes his head, pacing like a man who’s got too much in his head and no idea how to get it out. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

I scoff, leaning back against the cushions. “Bullshit.”

Joel stops pacing, pinches the bridge of his nose, and mutters something under his breath.

“What?” I push, sitting up. “Go on. Say it.”

“You know why,” he says, finally looking at me. His eyes are tired. Guilty. “I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did.”

I laugh. A short, bitter thing. “Let things go as far as they did? You mean you finally gave in? You finally admitted you wanted me?”

Joel clenches his jaw, turning away, but I’m already off the couch, already closing the distance between us.

“You do want me,” I say, softer now. “You just don’t want to let yourself have me.”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, looking like a man at war with himself.

“You think it was a mistake?” I ask, my voice steady even though my chest feels tight.

Joel doesn’t answer right away. And that silence? It kills me.

Finally, he exhales, voice rough. “I think it ain’t fair to you.”

I stare at him, disbelief creeping in. “Fair? That’s what you’re worried about? Jesus, Joel, I’m not some kid you need to protect. I know what I want.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t get it—”

“No, you don’t get it,” I snap. “I waited for you to stop fighting it. I waited for you to stop treating me like I’m too young, too reckless, too much for you. And the second you let yourself have me, you run?”

Joel’s breathing is heavy now, his hands flexing at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I ain’t runnin’—”

I step closer, forcing him to look at me. “Then what the hell do you call this?”

His face twists, something breaking behind his eyes. “I call it tryin’ to do right by you.”

My chest aches. God, he’s so damn stubborn.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I say, softer this time. “You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

Joel looks at me, looks through me, and I see it—that need, that longing, that war inside him.

But I won’t beg.

So I take a slow step back, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Fine,” I say, voice carefully even. “You wanna push me away? Go ahead. But don’t you dare pretend it’s for my sake.”

I turn, heading for the door, my heart hammering in my chest.

And I wait.

I wait for him to stop me.

But the door closes behind me, and Joel lets me go.

—

I should slam the door in his face.

I should.

But I don’t. Because it’s Joel. And even after everything—even after he let me walk out that door without a fight—I still want him.

And the bastard knows it.

He stands there, looking rough around the edges, like he hasn’t slept. He rubs the back of his neck, shifting on his feet, like he doesn’t know how to say whatever it is he came here to say.

“I fucked up,” he says, finally.

I snort, arms crossed. “No shit.”

Joel exhales, glancing down for a second before his eyes meet mine again. They’re dark, tired, but honest.

“I was scared,” he says, voice lower now. “Ain’t used to wantin’ something this bad. Ain’t used to thinkin’ maybe I could have it.”

That stops me.

Because this? This is new. This isn’t Joel pushing me away, telling me I’m too young, too much, too reckless. This isn’t him trying to convince himself he doesn’t need me.

This is him admitting that he does.

I swallow, my throat tight. “You can have it, Joel. But not if you keep pulling this shit.”

He nods, like he knows, like he’s been sitting with that realization since the second I left.

I should make him work for it. Make him suffer a little. But then he steps closer—slow, cautious, like he’s making sure I don’t shut him out first.

And when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse.

“Come back.”

It’s not a demand. Not a plea. Just Joel laying it all out, raw and real, for me to decide.

I let out a slow breath, studying him, making him wait.

Then I step forward, just enough that I can tilt my chin up and brush my lips against his—light, teasing, cruel.

His breath hitches. His hands twitch at his sides, like he’s dying to touch me.

And I smirk. “Took you long enough.”

Joel groans, grabs me, and finally—finally—kisses me like he’s making up for every second he wasted.

[chxnsgirl]

황현진 & 한지성 ─── pas de trois

♡ pairing ៸៸ ballet dancer!hyunjin x ballet dancer!jisung x afab!reader ៸៸ genre ៸៸ love triangle, ballet academy au ៸៸ cw ៸៸ none really. just jisung pining and hyunjin being a womanizer. ♡ synopsis ៸៸ in the world of ballet, every step is choreographed—but love never follows the script. what happens when you get accepted into the ballet academy of your dreams? a/n ๑ hi hi i decided to make this multiple parts because it's long as FUCK and i couldn't make you guys read over 10k words per part LMAO. ive been working on this for about two weeks and im STILL writing this story. comment below if you want to be apart of the taglist for this series, there will be smut in the next part ;3 ♡ masterlist

it was a day filled with nerves and anticipation.

today marked your first day at lumière ballet company—the most prestigious and renowned company in the country. you, along with fourteen other dancers, had earned a coveted spot to train, undergo rigorous evaluations, and prove your potential for a place in the company.

getting accepted into lumière ballet company had been your dream for as long as you could remember. now, here you were—far from home, chasing that dream with everything you had, determined to turn it into reality.

the only thing that unsettled you was the distance. your parents had always been supportive, but they hadn’t been thrilled about you leaving. they feared for you—not because they doubted your talent, but because they worried about the heartbreak if things didn’t go as planned. they didn’t want to see your dreams shatter before you even had the chance to live them.

you pushed those thoughts aside. after all, here you were—standing in front of the very place you had dreamed of since childhood.

as you struggled with your bags, pulling them out of the taxi, you heard a voice behind you.

“need some help with those?”

assuming it was just some random person, you rolled your eyes, irritation creeping into your tone. “no.” you tugged at your largest bag and turned around, ready to brush off whoever it was.

but your heart skipped a beat when you saw who was standing there. hwang hyunjin, the star dancer of the company. famous for his flawless technique and striking good looks, he stood before you with platinum blonde buzzed hair, plump lips, piercing dark eyes, and glowing, honey-toned skin.

you fumbled for words, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips. “oh, um…” you couldn’t help but take him in, a little starstruck that he was actually standing there, talking to you.

“‘no?’” he smiled, his eyes scanning you briefly.

“i mean… no, thank you.” you hugged your bag to your chest, politely declining his offer. he nodded, his expression unreadable as he took a step back.

“okay,” he said simply before turning and heading toward the company entrance.

you watched him walk away, a dazed, goofy smile spreading across your face.

you were definitely starstruck. you had seen hyunjin on tv and in performances before. he was undeniably talented, and adored by so many. it took you by surprise that he had even spoken to you, let alone offered to help carry your bags to your dorm.

the arrival at your dorm was quick and seamless, and you were relieved to find that your roommates were nice. yeji had been at the company for a while—she practically grew up there, and her seniority made you a little nervous. the other girl, celeste, was beautiful and kind, though you could tell she had a sharp tongue that might get her into trouble.

as you were walking around the dorms, you ran into yeji’s friend, minho. the two exchanged a friendly hug before she introduced you both.

“this is minho, and minho, these are my roommates—y/n and celeste,” yeji said, gesturing to you both.

minho gave a casual wave, leaning on yeji’s shoulder. “nice to meet you. you two new?” his tone made it clear he already knew the answer.

“yep, we are. that obvious?” you chuckled shyly. he laughed, shaking his head.

“maybe just a little. what are you guys up to, walking around the dorms?”

“i was just showing them around,” yeji explained.

“i see. want to play stakeout with me and felix? we’re keeping an eye out for our third roommate. supposedly, he’s coming from across the country,” minho said, nodding toward his dorm.

yeji looked to you and celeste for approval, waiting for your responses before agreeing.

“sure, we’ll hang for a little,” yeji smiled.

you spent the afternoon lounging around, getting to know minho and felix. the conversation flowed easily, filled with lighthearted jokes and stories. you learned that minho had been at the company for about four years—a fact that surprised you, given how effortlessly he carried himself. felix, on the other hand, was just as new as you and celeste, which brought you a sense of comfort. it was nice knowing you weren’t the only one still finding your footing.

the five of you were sprawled across minho and felix’s beds, laughing and sharing stories, when the sound of the door clicking open caught your attention.

in walked a stunningly handsome guy with clear, glowing skin and tousled dark brown hair that framed his sharp jawline. his cheeks had the slightest hint of roundness, giving him a boyish charm, but it was his eyes that truly struck you—warm, expressive, and impossibly friendly. he took in the unfamiliar faces before him, offering a small, hesitant smile as he waved.

“uh… am i in the right room?” he asked, shutting the door behind him and tugging out his dorm papers.

“you’re jisung?” minho spoke up, looking him over. you could’ve sworn there was a hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

“yeah, jisung.” he smiled warmly before setting his bags down next to the empty bed in the corner.

for a moment, minho didn’t respond, as if he had momentarily lost the ability to speak.

“um, i’m felix,” felix stepped in, standing up to shake jisung’s hand. “nice to meet you. that’s minho.” he motioned vaguely toward minho, who managed a small wave.

“nice to meet you too,” jisung replied with a grin, shrugging his duffel bag off his shoulder.

yeji stood up next, introducing herself, and celeste followed. finally, you extended your hand. “i’m y/n,” you said, offering a friendly smile.

jisung’s eyes flickered toward yours, his gaze lingering just a second longer than expected before his lips curled into a soft smile. “nice to meet you.”

“you too.” you hesitated before adding, “minho mentioned you’re coming from across the country?”

“yeah,” jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i flew in from la. my girlfriend dumped me for leaving her there.” his expression faltered slightly, the disappointment evident in his tone.

from the corner of your eye, you noticed minho let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, subtly relaxing against the bed once more.

felix let out a low whistle. “oof, rough. long-distance is tough, huh?”

jisung shrugged, forcing a small smile. “guess she didn’t think it was worth it. but, honestly, i can’t blame her. i left pretty suddenly when i got accepted here.”

yeji tilted her head. “how did you hear about lumière? i mean, it’s the top ballet company in the country, but la has some incredible programs too.”

jisung sat down on his bed, leaning back on his hands. “i’ve known about lumière since i was a kid. my old instructor used to talk about it all the time—said it was the kind of place that could turn a good dancer into a great one. so, when i saw the audition announcement, i figured i had to at least try.” he glanced around the room. “still can’t believe i actually made it.”

you nodded in understanding. “i know the feeling. this place always felt like an impossible dream, and now we’re actually here.”

minho, finally finding his voice again, smirked. “impossible dream or not, don’t think they’re going to go easy on you. lumière’s training program is brutal. if you survive it, you’ve got a shot at a contract, but only a few of us will actually get hired.”

jisung raised an eyebrow. “only a few?”

yeji sighed, crossing her arms. “yeah. it’s tough. there are fifteen of us in the program, but in the end, they only offer jobs to about five or six. maybe less, depending on the company’s needs.”

celeste groaned, flopping onto felix’s bed. “ugh, way to kill the excitement. let us enjoy the moment before we start panicking.”

felix laughed. “she’s right. we just got here, let’s not stress yet.”

jisung chuckled, shaking his head. “nah, i’d rather know what i’m up against. so, any advice? what’s the secret to surviving lumière?”

minho exchanged a knowing look with yeji before shrugging. “work hard, don’t mess around, and for the love of everything, don’t get on the instructors’ bad side.”

felix raised a playful brow. “sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

minho smirked. “let’s just say… they don’t forget easily.”

you laughed along with the group, but deep down, you felt the weight of their words. this wasn’t just a school—it was a proving ground. and if you wanted to stay, you’d have to give it everything you had.

the next morning, your alarm blared before the sun had fully risen, jolting you awake. a mix of nerves and excitement swirled in your stomach as you hurried to get ready, slipping into your leotard and tights before pulling your hair into a neat bun. this was it—your first official day at lumière ballet company.

by the time you arrived at the studio, the air was buzzing with hushed conversations and the occasional nervous laugh. the room was vast, lined with mirrors and ballet barres, the polished floors gleaming under the bright lights. the other dancers were already stretching, their movements graceful even in casual warm-ups. 

you spotted celeste and jisung near the back, exchanging a few words before he playfully nudged her, making her roll her eyes. yeji and minho were at the front, both exuding an effortless confidence that only came with experience.

you found a spot near the middle, smoothing out your leotard as you took a deep breath. just as you were about to start warming up, the studio doors swung open. the room instantly fell silent.

a group of instructors filed in, their sharp eyes scanning the room with quiet intensity. among them, a tall, distinguished man with graying hair stepped forward. his presence alone commanded respect, and you immediately recognized him—emile laurent, the head of lumière.

but he wasn’t the only notable figure in the room. behind the instructors, a small group of dancers followed, each one standing with an air of effortless poise. among them, your gaze caught on a familiar figure—hyunjin.

he was even more striking up close, his platinum blonde hair glowed under the lights, his black warm-up attire accentuated his lean, sculpted frame. you swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of his presence.

émile cleared his throat, and all attention snapped back to him.

“welcome,” he began, his voice deep and steady. “you stand here today because you have proven yourselves among the most talented young dancers in the country. but talent alone will not secure your place here. over the next several months, you will be tested—physically, mentally, and artistically. some of you will thrive. some of you will falter.” his sharp gaze swept across the room. “only a select few will earn a permanent position within this company.”

the weight of his words settled over the group like a heavy blanket. you tried not to let it shake you, but your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of your tights.

“as you train, you will work with our esteemed instructors, as well as the company’s leading dancers.” émile gestured behind him, and that was when hyunjin stepped forward alongside the others. “these artists represent the highest standard of excellence. watch them. learn from them. and, if you are lucky, perhaps one day, you will dance beside them.”

a murmur rippled through the room, dancers exchanging glances of awe and quiet determination. you were no different—your gaze flickered toward hyunjin once again, and to your surprise, he was already looking at you.

your breath hitched.

it was brief, just a moment—his dark eyes meeting yours before a small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. he tilted his head ever so slightly, as if amused by your reaction. 

you quickly looked away, heat creeping up your neck.

“your training begins now,” émile’s voice snapped your attention back. “we will push you. and if you survive, you may just earn the right to call yourselves dancers of lumière.” murmurs began to be heard, but before you could break to hide in your thoughts, he spoke up again.

“one more thing, we have the company gala next week, we invite our advanced students, such as yourselves, to attend the performance and help with the party afterwards. i expect to see you all there.”

with that, the instructors began splitting the group up, but your thoughts remained elsewhere.

“i hope he didn’t think that was inspirational,” you heard a voice behind you.

you turned, seeing jisung leaning against a barre, arms crossed over his chest with an amused glint in his eyes.

you let out a breathy chuckle, still trying to shake off the weight of émile’s speech. “yeah, if the goal was to make us all fear for our lives, then mission accomplished.”

he smirked, pushing off the barre and stretching his arms over his head. “honestly, i think that’s the point. they want to weed out the ones who can’t handle the pressure.” he glanced around the room, where some dancers were already practicing their footwork, while others whispered amongst themselves, their nerves palpable. “some people thrive under that kind of intensity. others…” he trailed off, watching a girl in the corner shakily adjusting her pointe shoes.

you hummed in agreement, then glanced at him. “and what about you? are you one of those people who thrive?”

jisung shrugged, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “i guess we’ll find out.”

his confidence was subtle—not the overbearing, showy kind, but the kind that felt steady, reassuring. there was something about the way he carried himself that made you feel at ease, as if no matter how difficult things got, he would take it in stride.

you exhaled, shaking your head. “i get that they want to push us, but still… i was kind of hoping for at least one encouraging word.”

he chuckled. “guess you’ll have to settle for me.”

you turned to him with a teasing smile. “oh? and what words of wisdom do you have to offer?”

he pretended to think, lips pursing in exaggerated contemplation. “how about… ‘don’t pass out on your first day’?”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “wow. so profound.”

“i try,” he said with a grin, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

you gradually became acquainted with a few other girls in the class, aside from celeste and yeji. yeji, being well-connected within the company, had a couple of close friends she primarily stuck with—yuqi and lia, both senior dancers who carried themselves with the kind of effortless confidence that came from years of experience. it didn’t take long to realize that they seemed to know everything about everyone, from which instructors were the toughest to which dancers were secretly dating.

sensing an opportunity to learn the ins and outs of the company, you made an effort to spend more time around them. their presence, along with celeste’s, gave you a sense of comfort amid the overwhelming newness of it all.

with their guidance, you managed to survive your first class. the session focused mainly on warm-ups and refining positioning, easing you into the company’s expectations without immediately throwing you into the deep end. you concentrated on every movement, working to ensure your form was correct, and though you were nervous at first, it quickly became second nature.

oddly enough, time seemed to slip away faster than you anticipated. what started as a nerve-wracking first class soon became a blur of controlled movements, stretching, and quiet concentration. by the time the session ended, you were left feeling relieved.

as class ended, you fell into step with the girls, chatting idly as you made your way toward the commons. the conversation quickly turned into playful gossip about various company scandals—who was secretly dating whom, which instructors were the toughest, and who had mysteriously dropped out of the program.

it wasn’t until yuqi casually mentioned a name that you had already become all too familiar with that the conversation took a more intriguing turn.

“did you see hyunjin’s back from korea?” yuqi asked, slinging her bag off her shoulder before settling onto one of the couches.

your ears instantly perked up. you and the rest of the group followed suit, finding seats around her, the air buzzing with curiosity.

“i’m surprised he’s back so soon, considering what happened,” yeji added with a knowing grin, the kind that suggested she was sitting on a particularly juicy piece of information.

“what happened?” celeste beat you to the question just as you were about to ask yourself.

yeji leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if afraid someone else might overhear. “right before the end of last year, hyunjin got dumped by madeline picard—one of the best dancers this company has ever seen.” she let the name linger, watching for your reaction.

your brows furrowed. madeline picard. the name sounded vaguely familiar, but before you could dwell on it, yuqi picked up where yeji left off.

“yeah, and apparently, it wasn’t just a normal breakup. he totally lost it—had a complete meltdown and accused her of cheating because she ended things so suddenly.”

you blinked, surprised. hyunjin didn’t exactly seem like the type to be dramatic over a breakup.

lia, who had been mostly quiet until now, tilted her head, her expression amused. “i heard all he did in korea was go clubbing and hook up with every girl he came across.” she raised a brow as if challenging anyone to refute her claim.

your stomach twisted slightly. you weren’t sure why. maybe it was because you had only just met hyunjin, and already, there was so much weight behind his name. or maybe it was the idea that, beneath his striking looks and undeniable talent, there was something messy lurking underneath.

"apparently, he hasn’t spoken to anyone from last year," yeji added, her tone dripping with intrigue.

"he talked to me."

the words slipped out before you could stop them, and the moment they did, regret settled in your stomach like a rock. instantly, all eyes snapped to you, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity flashing across their faces.

"what?" yeji practically narrowed her eyes at you, a sharp, almost jealous glint in her gaze.

"wait, hold on," yuqi leaned forward, gripping the edge of the couch. "you actually spoke to hyunjin? when?"

you swallowed, suddenly feeling very small under their intense stares. "it was nothing," you said quickly, waving a dismissive hand. "i mean… he just offered to help me with my bags yesterday."

silence. then—

"you’re telling me," lia started slowly, eyeing you with suspicion, "that he randomly decided to help you with your luggage?"

"it wasn’t like that," you rushed to explain. "i didn’t even recognize him at first. i thought he was some weird guy bothering me, so i kind of snapped at him."

yuqi gasped dramatically. "you snapped at hyunjin?"

"well, yeah, but i didn’t know it was him!" you defended.

celeste let out a low whistle, shaking her head in amusement. "wow. bold of you."

yeji folded her arms, tapping a manicured finger against her elbow. "and what did he say after you oh-so-graciously rejected his help?"

you hesitated, recalling the way his dark eyes had flickered with something unreadable when you told him no. how he had looked you over before flashing a knowing grin.

"he just smiled and walked away," you admitted, shifting uncomfortably under their scrutinizing gazes.

another round of silence followed.

then, to your utter shock, lia smirked. "oh, he’s interested."

your eyes widened. "what? no, he’s not! it was just a random encounter—"

"please," yuqi scoffed. "hyunjin doesn’t go out of his way for just anyone. and you’re new, so it’s not like he has some pre-existing friendship with you."

"yeah," celeste chimed in, grinning. "sounds like someone caught the star dancer’s attention."

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. "you guys are seriously overthinking this."

"are we?" yeji quirked a brow. "or are you underthinking it?"

you shook your head, but the butterflies in your stomach told you otherwise.

as the weeks passed, the reality of your position at lumière ballet company began to settle in. you quickly realized that, compared to many of the other dancers, you had a lot of ground to cover. your turnout wasn’t as refined, your footwork wasn’t as naturally strong, and the effortless grace that others seemed to possess still felt just out of your reach. every class was a reminder of how much work lay ahead of you.

celeste was a constant source of encouragement, always quick to remind you that progress takes time, but even her reassurances couldn’t stop the nagging doubt from creeping in. what if it wasn’t enough? what if, no matter how hard you pushed yourself, your technique still paled in comparison to the others? the thought of being cut prematurely haunted you, lingering in the back of your mind like a storm cloud threatening to break.

but it wasn’t until you were unexpectedly called to the headmaster’s office that true fear gripped you. your heart pounded as you made your way through the halls, every step feeling heavier than the last. was this it? had they already decided that you weren’t good enough? the possibility loomed over you, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

as you reached the emile’s office, you hesitated for a brief moment before gathering the courage to knock.

“come in,” a voice called from the other side.

taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. the office was grand yet intimidating, with towering bookshelves filled with ballet history, framed photos of past company stars, and the sharp scent of polished wood lingering in the air. seated behind an ornate mahogany desk was emile, a man whose presence commanded respect. across from him sat miss cassandra, your primary instructor, her sharp eyes scanning you the moment you entered.

“take a seat,” he instructed, motioning to the chair across from him.

your heart pounded as you settled into the seat, your palms pressing nervously against your skirt. miss cassandra crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap as the headmaster leaned forward, scrutinizing you for a moment before finally speaking.

“you’ve been here for a few weeks now,” he began, his tone calm but firm. “and i imagine you’ve realized just how competitive this company is.”

you swallowed, nodding.

“the reality is, ballet is as much about physicality as it is about artistry. this company—this industry—demands precision, discipline, and most importantly, the right body for it,” he continued. “your lines, your turnout, the way your feet work—it all matters. you have potential, but potential alone doesn’t earn you a place here.”

miss cassandra finally spoke, her voice carrying the same sharpness you were used to hearing in class. “you’re a hard worker, and that’s good. but hard work only goes so far when your technique isn’t where it needs to be. your turnout is lacking, and without proper turnout, your movements will never have the seamless quality we expect here.”

you gripped your hands together, your stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“the workshop performance is approaching,” the headmaster reminded you. “that performance will determine whether or not you earn your spot in the company. if you don’t show significant improvement by then, i’m afraid you won’t be able to continue training here.”

the words struck you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. you had known this company was difficult, but hearing those words so plainly was different—it was a direct challenge, a warning that time was running out.

“we aren’t saying this to discourage you,” miss cassandra said, her gaze piercing. “we’re telling you this so you understand the reality of what’s at stake. you have work to do, and not much time to do it.”

emile nodded. “if you truly want this, you need to prove it. show us that you belong here.”

you felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on you, but beneath the fear, there was determination. you had fought too hard to get here—leaving wasn’t an option.

“i understand,” you said quietly, but with conviction.

miss cassandra studied you for a moment before nodding. “good. then i suggest you start working twice as hard, because the clock is ticking.”

with that, the meeting was over. you stood, offering a polite nod before turning toward the door. as you stepped into the hallway, the reality of the situation fully set in. you had only a few weeks to prove yourself.

back at the dorm, you sat on the edge of your bed, your hands clasped together in your lap as you tried to process everything. the headmaster’s words played over and over in your mind, intertwining with miss cassandra’s sharp critiques. the weight of it all felt suffocating.

celeste sat beside you, her arm draped around your shoulders in a comforting squeeze. “hey, don’t let it get to you too much,” she said softly. “you’re working hard. that has to count for something.”

you let out a shaky breath. “i don’t know if it’s enough.”

celeste frowned, nudging you gently. “of course it’s enough. you’re not some talentless beginner. you got accepted here for a reason. if they didn’t see potential, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

you wanted to believe her, but emile’s warning still rang in your ears. potential isn’t enough.

before you could respond, the door to the dorm swung open, and yeji walked in, dropping her bag onto the floor with a thud. she glanced at the two of you before cocking her head. “what’s with the sad puppy look?”

celeste shot her a look. “she just had a talk with the headmaster.”

yeji raised a brow. “oh?” she tossed her shoes off and sat on her bed, crossing her legs. “let me guess. he told you your technique isn’t good enough?”

your silence was enough.

yeji sighed, shrugging as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. “well… he’s right.”

celeste stiffened beside you. “yeji.”

“what?” yeji leaned back against her pillows. “i’m just saying. this isn’t some feel-good ballet academy. if you can’t keep up, you get cut. that’s how it works.”

your stomach twisted at her bluntness. you knew she wasn’t saying it to be outright cruel—it was just how she was. but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

celeste shot up from the bed, glaring at yeji. “she knows that. she doesn’t need you rubbing it in.”

yeji rolled her eyes. “i’m not rubbing it in. i’m just being realistic.”

you exhaled, rubbing your temples. “she’s not wrong.”

celeste groaned, turning back to you. “no, don’t listen to her. you can do this. you just have to work harder, and i’ll help you however i can, okay?”

you nodded, offering her a small smile of appreciation.

yeji sighed dramatically, swinging her legs onto the bed. “i’m just saying, you should get used to criticism. if you can’t handle a little tough love, you won’t last here.”

celeste threw a pillow at her. “your love is just tough. there’s no love in it.”

yeji smirked, catching the pillow with ease. “fine. then consider it free advice.”

celeste huffed, plopping back down onto your bed with a determined look on her face. “alright, enough of this depressing mood. we need a distraction.”

you blinked at her, confused. “a distraction?”

she nodded, a mischievous grin forming. “yes. you, my dear, need a break. and i have just the thing—clubbing.”

your eyes widened. “clubbing?”

“clubbing,” she confirmed, already pulling out her phone. “we’re getting dressed up, going out, and having fun. you’ve been working your ass off, and it’s time to let loose for one night.”

yeji scoffed from her bed, stretching her arms over her head. “you? at a club?” she eyed you skeptically. “are you even the type?”

celeste shot her a glare. “of course she is. she just doesn’t know it yet.” then, without waiting for a response, she started texting. “i’m messaging minho, jisung, yuqi, and felix. we’re making a night of it.”

you groaned, already feeling exhausted at the thought. “celeste, i don’t know—”

“nope! no excuses.” she stood, hands on her hips. “you’re stressed, you’re overworked, and you’re doubting yourself. what you need is a night of dancing, drinks, and good music. trust me.”

yeji smirked. “i’ll go.”

“of course you will,” celeste muttered before turning back to you. “come on, y/n. when’s the last time you did something fun?”

you hesitated. you weren’t exactly the clubbing type, and the thought of being in a crowded place with loud music and flashing lights wasn’t something you typically sought out. but… maybe celeste had a point.

you had been completely consumed by ballet. the stress of proving yourself was weighing heavier by the day, and if you didn’t let loose even a little, you might actually implode.

“…fine,” you finally relented with a sigh.

celeste cheered, throwing her arms around you. “yes! i knew you’d come around.”

yeji chuckled, shaking her head. “this should be interesting.”

celeste turned back to her phone, quickly typing away. “minho says he’s in. jisung too. yuqi and felix are coming, so that means we officially have a squad.”

you bit your lip, nerves bubbling in your chest. what had you just agreed to?

celeste clasped her hands together. “alright, girls. let’s get ready. y/n, you’re gonna look so good, no man will be able to take his eyes off you.”

when you walked up to the club with celeste, yeji, and yuqi, jisung’s eyes lit up. it was almost as if he was in awe of you. of course, you didn’t notice, still too hung up on what the headmaster said to you that afternoon. 

jisung’s eyes roamed over you as you approached, his lips parting slightly as if he had something to say but couldn’t quite find the words. you looked different tonight—more than just dressed up. there was something about you that drew his attention like a magnet, something that made his chest feel a little tighter.

"you look..." he started, pausing as if searching for the right word. "wow."

you blinked, momentarily pulled from your thoughts. "huh?"

jisung let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "you look beautiful, y/n." his voice was softer now, almost hesitant.

you stared at him for a moment, then scoffed lightly, shaking your head. "yeah, right."

his brows furrowed. "i'm serious."

you offered him a small, polite smile. "thanks, jisung," you said, even though you didn’t quite believe him. it was a sweet thing to say, but after the afternoon you had, it was hard to see yourself as anything other than inadequate.

jisung frowned slightly, as if he could sense exactly what you were thinking. but before he could say anything more, minho clapped a hand on his shoulder. "are we going in or what?"

jisung gave you one last glance before nodding. "yeah. let’s go."

as the group made their way into the club, jisung couldn’t help but wonder why you brushed off his compliment so easily. and why, no matter how many people were around you, you still looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders.

once you all stepped inside, the pulsing bass of the music vibrated through your chest, the dim, colorful lights casting a glow over the crowded dance floor. the group pooled their money together for a table near the edge of the club, a spot just far enough from the speakers to talk but still close enough to feel the infectious energy of the room.

drinks were passed around, laughter filled the air, and everyone seemed to be letting loose—everyone except you. no matter how much you tried to shake it off, the nagging weight of earlier conversations pressed heavily on your mind, dragging you down. you sat there, absently swirling the liquid in your glass, your gaze unfocused as your thoughts spiraled.

that was when jisung carefully reached over, plucking the drink from your fingers and setting it down on the table.

blinking, you turned to look at him, confusion flickering across your face. “what are you doing?”

his fingers wrapped gently around your hand, giving it a light tug as a playful smile tugged at his lips. "you didn’t get all dressed up just to sit here and overthink, did you?"

you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, he nodded toward the dance floor, where bodies moved fluidly under the flashing lights. “come on,” he urged, his voice warm and inviting.

for a second, you hesitated. but the way jisung looked at you—like he wanted nothing more than to pull you away from whatever storm was brewing in your mind—made it hard to say no.

you hesitated for a moment, glancing between jisung and the crowded dance floor. the pulsing music, the flashing lights, the bodies moving in sync—it was all so overwhelming. but then you looked at him. his eyes held no pressure, only warmth, only the unspoken promise that he was there, that he wanted you to have fun.

with a breath, you gave in. “okay,” you said softly.

a grin broke across jisung’s face as he gently led you onto the floor, weaving through the crowd until you found a space of your own. the rhythm of the music pulsed around you, a beat so infectious that it was impossible not to move. you started off slow, still a little unsure, your body stiff with lingering stress.

but jisung was different. he wasn’t stiff, not even a little. he moved with an effortless ease, his body in tune with the music like he was born for it. and as he danced beside you, he encouraged you with little smiles, playful nods, the way he subtly matched your movements to make it feel less like you were dancing alone.

“see?” he leaned in, his voice low but audible over the music. “not so bad, right?”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “i guess not.”

the tension in your shoulders began to melt away as the music took over, and for the first time that night, you felt lighter. jisung noticed it too—the way your movements became freer, how your laughter slipped out more easily. and god, did he think you were beautiful like this.

the flashing club lights illuminated your features in shifting shades of blue, purple, and red. your hair framed your face just right, your eyes shining even in the dim light. jisung had always thought you were beautiful, but here, seeing you loosen up, seeing you smile after looking so down all evening, it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

you twirled, laughing as the movement made you stumble slightly, and instinctively, jisung’s hands found your waist, steadying you before you could lose your balance. it was just for a second, but when you looked up at him, your faces only inches apart, he felt his breath catch.

his hands lingered just a little longer than necessary before he cleared his throat, stepping back with a grin, though his heart was racing. “careful,” he teased. “don’t go falling for me now.”

you rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “as if.”

but the way jisung looked at you in that moment, his gaze lingering, his playful smirk softening into something fonder—if only you knew just how much he already had fallen. 

after what felt like an eternity of dancing—your body light with adrenaline, the weight of the past weeks momentarily forgotten—jisung finally pulled away with a breathless grin. “alright, alright,” he laughed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “even i need a break.”

you chuckled, nodding in agreement. “yeah, i could use a drink.”

together, you weaved through the throng of people toward the bar, where the neon glow cast everything in shades of blue and purple. jisung leaned against the counter, signaling to the bartender while you stood beside him, catching your breath. your skin was still warm from dancing, your heart racing—not just from the exertion, but from the lingering feeling of jisung’s hands on your waist, the way he had looked at you under the flashing lights.

you exhaled deeply, shaking the thoughts away as the bartender slid two drinks across the counter. you reached for yours absentmindedly, lifting it to your lips—

“didn’t expect to see you here.”

you froze, your fingers tightening around your glass. you knew that voice. slowly, you turned your head, and there he was.

hyunjin.

up close, the dim club lighting softened the sharp angles of his face, but his presence was just as striking as ever. his platinum hair fell slightly into his dark eyes, which were locked onto you with an intensity that made your heart stutter. he smelled faintly of expensive cologne and alcohol, the scent mingling with the warmth of the crowded club.

you swallowed, willing your expression to stay neutral. “didn’t expect to see you either,” you replied, keeping your voice even.

hyunjin tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “didn’t take you for the clubbing type.” his eyes flickered over you, taking in the way your dress hugged your figure, how different you looked outside of the company’s strict ballet attire.

you raised a brow. “and what type did you take me for?”

he chuckled, resting his elbow on the bar beside you, leaning in just slightly. “hardworking. serious. someone who wouldn’t waste time on things like this.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “so i can’t let loose once in a while?”

“i didn’t say that.” he lifted his drink to his lips, taking a slow sip before continuing. “it’s just… surprising.”

you chuckled and shook your head. “do you even know my name?” you raised a brow as you looked up at him. he looked down at you, that smirk never leaving his stupidly gorgeous face. 

“y/n l/n.” he smiled. “how could i forget a face like yours?”

something about the way he said it sent an odd thrill through you. it wasn’t just his words—it was the way he was looking at you.

before you could come up with a response, another voice cut in.

“everything alright here?”

you turned to see jisung standing beside you, his gaze flicking between you and hyunjin. his usual warmth was still there, but there was something else too—a quiet protectiveness, a subtle tension in the way he held himself.

hyunjin looked at jisung, then back at you, his smirk widening slightly, as if he understood something neither of you had said out loud. he straightened, stepping back slightly. “didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said smoothly, though the glint in his eyes told you he had done exactly that.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “we were just talking.”

“of course,” hyunjin mused, swirling the ice in his glass. then, with one last glance at you—one that lingered a second too long—he gave a small nod. “enjoy your night, y/n l/n.”

and just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd, leaving behind the scent of cologne and the faintest trace of something else.

jisung watched hyunjin disappear into the crowd, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. he turned back to you, studying your face—the way your eyes lingered on the spot hyunjin had stood, the way your fingers still gripped your drink a little too tightly.

“you okay?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

you nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. “yeah.”

jisung let out a breath, forcing a small chuckle. “you know… for someone who just met him, you sure look at him like he hung the stars.”

your eyes snapped to his, caught off guard by the edge in his voice. it wasn’t anger—not exactly. but there was something there, something deeper than his usual lightheartedness.

you shifted on your feet, suddenly feeling exposed. “i don’t—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “it’s not like that.”

jisung gave you a look, one that told you he wasn’t buying it. “isn’t it?”

you swallowed, trying to find the right words, but none came. because deep down, you knew there was truth in what he was saying. there was something about hyunjin—his presence, his reputation, the effortless way he pulled you in. it was exciting. addictive, even.

jisung sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “look, i’m not trying to ruin your night.” his voice was softer now, but there was a weight behind it. “i just…” he hesitated, then forced a small smile. “never mind.”

“no, what?” you frowned, stepping closer. “tell me.”

jisung studied you for a moment, then shook his head with a chuckle that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “nothing. just… be careful with him, okay?”

you wanted to ask why. wanted to pry into whatever was making his expression so guarded. but before you could, celeste appeared beside you, draping an arm over your shoulder.

“there you are! come on, we bought another round.”

you glanced back at jisung, but he had already taken a step away, masking whatever he was feeling with his usual easygoing grin.

“yeah,” you murmured, forcing yourself to focus back on the present. “let’s go.”

but even as celeste dragged you toward the bar, you couldn’t shake the feeling that jisung’s words weren’t just a warning.

they were a plea.

the air in the studio was thick with tension, the usual routine of class disrupted by the presence of an audience. against the far wall, the company’s most renowned dancers, including hyunjin, sat in a neat line alongside the instructors and the director himself, their watchful eyes scanning the room as they whispered amongst themselves.

it had been a few months since your first day at lumière, and you’d finally begun to settle into the rigorous schedule, but today’s class wasn’t just another routine. today, they were scouting for dancers to be featured in the upcoming workshop—a performance that could solidify your place at the company.

your heart pounded as you stepped up to the barre, standing between celeste and yeji. yeji, always composed, adjusted her arm with practiced ease, while celeste rolled her shoulders back, flashing you a reassuring glance. “relax,” she mouthed.

you tried. you really did. but when the pianist began to play, signaling the start of class, your limbs felt stiffer than usual.

the warm-up passed in a blur of tendus and pliés, and as the class progressed, the instructors led everyone to the center for adagios and pirouettes. it was there, under the relentless scrutiny of the panel, that your nerves truly took hold.

“focus on turnout,” miss cassandra’s voice rang out as she walked the floor, correcting postures with a tap of her stick. “shoulders down, breath through the movement.”

you moved into your développé, willing yourself to remain poised, but as you extended your leg, you felt the slightest tremor in your ankle. it wasn’t much, but you knew the observers were trained to notice every detail.

beside you, yeji moved with the elegance of someone who had spent her entire life training for this moment. she was fluid, controlled, every movement effortless. it was no surprise—she was practically a shoo-in for the workshop.

celeste, meanwhile, danced with raw passion. even if her technique wasn’t as pristine, her expressiveness more than made up for it. you could tell she was determined to stand out today.

then there was jisung. though he was newer to classical ballet, he moved with an ease that made it seem as if he had been doing it all his life. his jumps were strong, and his turns were quick yet smooth, full of a quiet confidence that was captivating.

when it was time for pirouettes, you swallowed hard. you weren’t bad at them, but they weren’t your strongest skill either. you tried to keep your focus on the movement, on your breath, on the control of your core—but the moment you spotted hyunjin watching you from across the room, your rhythm faltered.

you stumbled slightly on your third rotation, stepping out of the turn to catch yourself.

you heard a quiet hum of disapproval from the instructors’ side. heat rushed to your face, but you kept going, forcing yourself to push through.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw hyunjin tilt his head, an unreadable expression on his face. he leaned in slightly as if saying something to the dancer beside him, and for a split second, your stomach twisted with uncertainty. was he talking about you?

before you could dwell on it, the instructor clapped her hands. “next group.”

you exhaled sharply and stepped back, catching jisung’s glance as you did. he gave you a small, encouraging smile, one that you tried to return despite the weight in your chest.

the class continued with across-the-floor exercises, and though you did your best, you couldn’t shake the feeling that today had not been your strongest performance.

as the final reverence came to a close, the director finally stepped forward.

“thank you all,” he said, his hands clasped behind his back. his voice was calm, measured, but held a weight that made your stomach churn. “we’ve been observing closely, and over the next few days, we will be making our selections for the workshop.” his sharp eyes swept the room. “work hard. your future here depends on it.”

with that, he turned and left, the rest of the observers trailing behind him.

hyunjin was the last to go.

as he stepped out, his gaze flickered toward you once more.

you had only meant to make a quick stop at the drugstore, picking up a few necessities—shampoo, toothpaste, maybe even a face mask to treat yourself after the grueling week of training. but as you browsed the shelves, a familiar figure caught your eye from the corner of the aisle.

at first, you froze, your mind scrambling to process whether or not you were seeing things. maybe it was just someone who looked like him—platinum blond hair wasn’t exactly common, but it wasn’t impossible. still, curiosity got the best of you.

gripping your shopping basket a little tighter, you stepped out of the aisle and glanced in the direction he had gone. the moment your eyes landed on him, any doubt vanished. it was hyunjin.

he was standing by the skincare section, intently reading the label of a serum bottle, his sharp features relaxed in concentration.

without giving yourself time to overthink it, you strode toward him, adopting a casual air as you stopped beside him. “i’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” you quipped, a teasing grin tugging at your lips as you pretended to inspect the same shelf he was browsing.

hyunjin turned his head slightly, his lips curling into a smirk as he met your gaze. “oh?” he mused, raising a brow. “and here i thought you were stalking me.”

you scoffed, picking up a random moisturizer just to keep your hands busy. “i was here first.”

“so you say.” he let out a soft chuckle before setting the serum back on the shelf, shoving a hand into the pockets of his hoodie. “didn’t expect to see you outside the studio. you look different compared to how i saw you the other day.”

you blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. “different how?”

hyunjin tilted his head, scanning you briefly. “less serious. less…” he trailed off, searching for the word before finally settling on, “stressed.”

you let out a small laugh, though the statement made something twist in your chest. “guess that means i should work on my poker face.”

his smirk lingered as he leaned a bit closer, voice dropping slightly. “or maybe you should learn to loosen up.”

your breath hitched at the proximity, but you quickly masked it, rolling your eyes instead. “says the guy who takes himself so seriously he can’t even enjoy a simple trip to the drugstore.” you gestured toward the products in front of him. “what are you even looking for?”

“face cleanser,” he said, picking up a bottle. “ran out.”

you feigned interest, tilting your head as you examined it. “is that the secret to looking like a prince on stage?”

hyunjin scoffed, shaking his head. “it’s just face wash.”

“sure it is,” you teased, placing the moisturizer back on the shelf. “next you’re gonna tell me you don’t have some ten-step skincare routine.”

he chuckled, running a hand against his hair. “maybe i do. gotta keep up appearances, right?”

you found yourself smiling, the usual nerves you felt around him easing just a little.

for a moment, the conversation settled into a comfortable pause. then, with a glance at your basket, hyunjin nodded toward it. “what about you? shopping spree?”

you scoffed. “hardly. just grabbing some things i ran out of.”

“hm.” he tapped his fingers against the edge of the shelf, studying you for a moment before flashing a lopsided grin. “well, don’t let me keep you from your very important purchases.”

you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “yeah, wouldn’t want to get in the way of your skincare journey, either.”

just as you were about to turn away, hyunjin’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“hey.”

you glanced back at him, heart inexplicably picking up speed as he casually dropped a bottle of cleanser into his basket.

“have you had dinner yet?” he asked, his voice smooth yet unreadable. he took a slow step toward you, his head tilting slightly as he studied your reaction.

you froze, caught completely off guard. your fingers instinctively tightened around the handle of your basket. “um… no. not yet, anyway.” the words tumbled from your lips, slightly uneven.

hyunjin’s mouth twitched in amusement, clearly noticing your sudden shift in demeanor. “then let’s eat something,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

your brows lifted slightly. “what, like… together?”

he let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “no, separately. at the same place. sitting at different tables.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the tiny smile forming at the corners of your lips. “alright, smartass. i just wasn’t expecting you to—” you paused, suddenly hesitant. was this… a date? or was he just being friendly?

“wasn’t expecting me to what?” hyunjin prompted, watching you with an unreadable expression.

you shifted on your feet. “to, i don’t know, invite me to dinner?”

his smirk softened, and he shrugged. “why not? i’m hungry, you’re hungry. might as well eat together. better yet, how about we go to my place?”

it was such a simple reason. no deeper meaning, no hidden intentions—at least, none that you could decipher. and yet, something about the idea of sharing a meal with hyunjin made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t sure how to handle.

“okay,” you said before you could overthink it. “yeah. sure.”

hyunjin grinned, satisfied. “good.” he glanced down at your basket. “you done shopping?”

you nodded, and together, the two of you made your way toward the checkout counter.

as you stood in line, you stole a quick glance at him. this was the most time you had spent with him outside of class, and despite your initial nerves, it felt… natural. easy, even.

little did you know, jisung had texted you while you were shopping. and when you didn’t answer, he’d decided to call.

just as you placed your items on the counter, your phone buzzed in your pocket, you pulled it out, seeing the screen light up with a familiar name. jisung.

you hesitated, glancing at hyunjin, who was now placing his own items on the counter.

as the phone buzzed in your hand, you hesitated for a second before pulling it out and answering.

"hey, jisung," you said, trying to sound casual as you stepped slightly away from hyunjin.

"hey! i was just wondering if you wanted to grab some food or something? you kinda disappeared after class, and i figured you could use a break." his voice was as warm as ever, that familiar lilt making you feel at ease.

you chewed on your lip, glancing at hyunjin, who was busy paying for his things. “oh, um… i actually just made plans to eat.”

“with who?” jisung asked lightly, but you could hear the slight shift in his tone.

you hesitated. “hyunjin.”

there was a beat of silence on the other end. not long—just a second—but enough for you to notice.

“oh,” jisung finally said. “cool. guess he’s finally got you under his spell, huh?” his attempt at humor didn’t fully mask the disappointment in his voice.

you sighed, feeling a slight pang of guilt. “it’s just dinner. it wasn’t even planned or anything, we just ran into each other at the store.”

“right.” another pause. then, a forced chuckle. “well, have fun, then.”

you frowned at his sudden change in demeanor. “jisung, don’t be like that.”

“like what?” he let out a small laugh, but it lacked his usual warmth. “look, you can hang out with whoever you want. i was just calling to check in, that’s all.”

you exhaled through your nose, wanting to say more, but before you could, he beat you to it.

“i’ll see you later, okay?”

and before you could respond, the call ended.

you lowered your phone, staring at the screen for a moment. something about the way he had sounded unsettled you. you knew jisung cared about you—he was one of your closest friends here—but this felt different.

“everything okay?” hyunjin’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. he was standing next to you now, his bag in one hand, yours in the other, both receipts discarded. you didn’t even realize he bought your things for you, you were still hung up on what han said.

you forced a small smile, tucking your phone away. “yeah. just… my friend checking in.”

hyunjin raised a brow, but didn’t press. “ready to go?”

you nodded, pushing aside the lingering thoughts of jisung as you followed hyunjin out the door.

taglist: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin @tirena1 @nickgurl4life

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[jhyoos]

Off Limits

chapter two : maybe this time

soccer player vi x talis reader

mentions: player vi, besti ekko, romance, lesbianism, modern au, college au, drama, abby tou, ellie tlou, (they’re coming i promise) cheerleader reader, mention of sex, pierced reader, caitlyn being a bitch

notes: grab some snacks yall

The next morning, as you stood in front of your mirror getting ready, you ignored Jayce completely. He had tried apologizing more times than you could count—knocking on your door, lingering outside your room, calling your name softly—but you refused to acknowledge him. Even when he sighed in frustration, muttering something under his breath as he walked away, you didn’t budge.

Once dressed, you headed downstairs, the scent of warm butter and sizzling eggs greeting you as you stepped into the kitchen. Your mom stood at the stove, her hair still slightly damp from a shower, humming softly as she flipped pancakes. You hadn’t seen her in a while—she had been away on a business trip in L.A., and part of you had missed her presence.

She turned to you with a warm smile as you sat at the island, watching her cook.

“How was your first day of school, mi corazón?” she asked, carefully plating food.

“It was good, Mom,” you replied, picking at your nails absentmindedly.

She gave you a knowing look. “Did you make any new friends?”

You shrugged. “Mmm, not really,” you admitted. “I did see Ekko, though. And his little girlfriend, Jinx. She’s really sweet and pretty.”

Your mom’s smile widened. “I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there.” She placed a plate in front of you, the smell of eggs and toast making your stomach grumble. “What about that cheer tryout video? Did you get accepted?”

You sighed, stabbing at a piece of scrambled egg with your fork. “Don’t know yet. They haven’t said anything.”

She reached over and squeezed your hand. “You’ll get it. I believe in you.” She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping back and grabbing a set of keys from the drawer. She placed them on the counter in front of you.

“The car’s parked outside, right in front. It’s new,” she said. “Just don’t forget to wash the dishes before you leave.”

You nodded, still chewing your food.

She gave you one last smile. “Have a good day, sweetheart.” Then, with the jingle of keys and the soft click of the door, she was gone.

Just as you were finishing your breakfast, Jayce came downstairs, already dressed with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He barely spared you a glance as he headed for the door.

“If you’re coming with me, let’s go,” he announced flatly.

You didn’t reply, only reached over and jingled the car keys your mom had left for you. He rolled his eyes before walking out of the apartment without another word.

Once you were done eating, you cleaned up the dishes like your mom had asked, grabbed your bag, and made your way to campus.

The day had been going surprisingly well. Classes were straightforward, and during your break, you decided to head to the library, taking advantage of the quiet space to get ahead on your studies. You sat at a desk tucked in the corner, your laptop open, completely focused on the screen as you typed out notes.

You barely noticed when someone sat down across from you. Assuming it was just another student there to study, you ignored them. That was until your laptop was abruptly shut, you moved your hands away just in time.

Your gaze snapped up, and there she was—Vi, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, an unreadable expression on her face.

Before you could even react, she spoke first. “Where did you go after the party? I was looking for you.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Liar,” you scoffed. “You were too busy exchanging saliva with some other girl.” You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms. “And on top of that, you didn’t even do the one thing you said you would—distract Jayce. He caught me.”

Vi sighed, shaking her head. “That’s why you haven’t been answering my texts?” She tilted her head, smirking. “Did you actually think this was something?” She let out a short chuckle. “I just wanted a good fuck, baby.”

Your jaw clenched. “I know this might sound surprising, but so did I.” You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “But it’s kinda a turn off when the girl you show up with is kissing someone else before the night’s even over.”

Vi’s smirk faltered slightly, but you didn’t give her a chance to respond. Instead, you reopened your laptop, the screen blocking her from your view.

“Have a good fucking day, Violet,” you muttered before refocusing on your work.

Vi hesitated for a moment, as if considering saying something else, but then you heard her scoff softly before standing up and walking away.

After your last class, you made your way home, already hearing the pounding bass of loud music as you approached the door. You sighed, knowing it was most likely Jayce and his friends, which meant the apartment was about to be a chaotic mess.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you flipped through the mail in your hands, tossing most of it onto the small table by the door like you always did. But one envelope caught your eye—the school’s logo printed neatly in the corner. Your breath hitched as you flipped it over, fingers tightening around the edges.

This was it. The results from your cheer tryout.

Cheer had been your passion since middle school, something you threw yourself into completely—until your senior year, when your dad died. You knew you couldn’t keep up with the demanding schedule, so you let it go. But after moving back home, your mom had encouraged you to give it another shot, and you did. You needed something to keep yourself busy, something to feel like you again.

You walked into the living room, distracted as you worked to tear the envelope open. Your bag slid off your shoulder, landing in its usual spot beneath the coffee table. Just as you finally got the letter free, something small and crunchy smacked you right in the forehead.

“The hell?” you muttered, glancing up.

“You’re blocking the TV, dude,” Jayce said flatly, a controller in his hand.

You rolled your eyes but froze when you noticed who was sitting beside him. Vi.

Your stomach twisted as you quickly took in the rest of his friend group—mostly butches and one twink. You looked back at Jayce before stepping aside, muttering under your breath as you finally unfolded the letter.

“Don’t you guys have better shit to do? Like study or—” Your voice cut off abruptly.

Your eyes scanned over the words again just to make sure you weren’t imagining things.

Congratulations, you have been selected as a member of the Arcane Lions Cheer Team.

Your hands trembled slightly as the realization settled in.

“Jayce, read this,” you said, shoving the letter toward him.

He paused the game, ignoring Vi’s groan of protest, and took the paper from you, standing up. His eyes darted across the page, and soon, a wide grin spread across his face.

“Congrats, sis. You’re a Lion,” he said, clapping you on the back.

You smirked. “I’ve been a Lion, dumbass. But thanks.”

Snatching the paper back, you pulled out your phone. “I’m gonna take a pic and send it to Mom.”

Jayce held onto the letter for just a second longer, teasing you before finally letting it go.

From the couch, Vi leaned back, stretching her arms over her head as she smirked. “Guess that means I’ll be seeing you at all the functions,” she teased. “Thank god cheerleaders don’t cheer for the soccer team.”

You scoffed. “I don’t wanna be around you.”

With that, you turned on your heel and headed straight upstairs, ignoring the way Vi’s smirk faltered just slightly as you disappeared down the hall, over hearing their conversation.

“Damn Vi i never seen you fumble so hard”

“I taught my sister well.”

Your first day of cheer practice was absolute hell.

The sun beat down mercilessly as you and the rest of the squad ran suicides up and down the football stadium bleachers. Your legs burned, your lungs screamed, and the insane body workouts that followed only made things worse. Every squat, push-up, and burpee felt like a personal attack. But the real kicker? The person barking orders at you all, making sure you pushed past your limits, was her.

The blue-haired girl from the bonfire. The one Vi had kissed.

And, of course, she just had to be the cheer captain.

You clenched your jaw and kept your head down, forcing yourself through every miserable rep. You weren’t about to let Caitlyn see you struggle. She was already making you work twice as hard as the others, calling you out whenever your form faltered, ensuring you knew exactly who was in charge.

By the time practice finally ended, you felt like you had been hit by a truck. You wiped sweat from your brow, chugging water like it was the only thing keeping you alive. Just when you thought you were free to leave, the team was ushered into the locker room to get measured for uniforms.

You were exhausted, body sore, and the last thing you wanted was to stand around half-dressed while someone took your measurements. But you endured it, standing in line as tape measures wrapped around your waist, bust, and hips, trying not to think about how much you hated being scrutinized like this.

Just as you were about to grab your bag and head out, Caitlyn stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

“You’re Jayce Talis’ little sister, right?” she asked, her piercing blue eyes locked onto yours.

You forced a polite, fake smile and nodded. “Yep. That’s me.”

Her gaze flickered over you, eyes dragging from your face down to your torso like she was assessing your worth. “I expect the best out of you since you’re the sibling of a top athlete here.”

Before you could respond, she reached out and grabbed the waistband of your shorts, tugging them slightly to peek inside.

Your body tensed, a flash of discomfort shooting up your spine.

“You’re gonna have to take that belly ring out during games,” Caitlyn remarked, her tone casual, like she wasn’t just invading your space. Then, she tilted her head, smirking. “What else do you have pierced?”

You hesitated for a second, shifting uncomfortably before mumbling, “Um… my nipples.”

Caitlyn hummed. “Figures.” She finally let go of your shorts, stepping back. The movement of the shorts snapping back onto your body hit your belly ring which made you hiss from the sudden pain. “Nothing some boob tape won’t hide, I guess.”

You exhaled, hoping that was the end of it, but then she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just enough for only you to hear.

“Oh, and I’ve heard about you… from Vi,” she said, her smile saccharine but her eyes sharp. “Stay away from her, or I’ll make your experience here a living hell. Okay?”

She patted your shoulder mockingly before turning on her heel and walking away like she hadn’t just threatened you with a sweet smile on her face.

You stood there for a moment, fists clenched at your sides.

What the fuck had you just gotten yourself into?

The warm water had washed away the grime of practice, but not the lingering frustration in your chest. Your muscles ached from the brutal workout Caitlyn had put you through, and the last thing you wanted was to deal with any more bullshit.

You stepped out of the shower, grabbing one of the towels provided and wrapping it around yourself. The locker room was mostly empty now, just the faint sound of water dripping from the showerheads and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. You dried yourself off quickly, rubbing the towel over your arms and legs before slipping on your underwear.

As you reached behind your back, struggling to clasp your bra, the locker room door swung open. The sound of laughter and footsteps echoed off the tiled walls.

You glanced up in the mirror.

Vi.

And, of course, she wasn’t alone. A handful of girls from the soccer team trailed in behind her, still riding the high of their practice. They were loud, chatting and joking amongst themselves, but Vi’s attention was locked onto you.

Her gaze swept over you in an obvious once-over, a slow smirk pulling at her lips.

“Damn, Talis,” she drawled, leaning against a row of lockers, arms crossed over her chest. “You got a nice body.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to snap at her. Instead, you focused on finally securing the stupid clasp of your bra, your fingers fumbling slightly in irritation.

Vi didn’t seem to care that you were ignoring her. If anything, it just encouraged her.

She tilted her head, eyes lingering a little too long. “Is that a belly ring?” Her smirk widened. “That’s hot.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, grabbing your sweatpants and stepping into them.

“Vi, I don’t have time for you and your bullshit,” you muttered, pulling them up your legs and tightening the drawstring.

Vi just chuckled, like your attitude amused her. Like you weren’t still pissed off at her from the bonfire.

You refused to let her get under your skin. You refused to let her think she could flirt her way back into your good graces.

Not this time.

Vi stepped closer, her presence looming just as you pulled your cropped black shirt over your head, the fabric hugging your body snugly. The heat of her proximity made your skin prickle, but you kept your focus on adjusting your sleeves, refusing to give her the reaction she wanted.

“What are you doing later tonight?” Vi asked, her voice smooth, almost casual, like she hadn’t just put you through hell the past 24 hours.

“Homework,” you replied flatly, slinging your gym bag over your shoulder.

Vi didn’t take the hint. “How about I see you tonight?” she offered, her tone dropping into something more suggestive. “Your brother isn’t gonna be home, which is perfect.”

You finally turned to her, eyes narrowing in disgust. Did she really think she could just waltz in here and pretend like nothing had happened?

You scoffed. “Why don’t you ask your little girlfriend that was threatening me this morning?” you said, tilting your head. “You know, the blue-haired girl… cheer captain?”

Vi shrugged, that cocky smirk still plastered on her face. Like none of this mattered. Like you were just another game to her.

That was it.

You stepped closer, meeting her gaze with unwavering intensity. “Let’s get one thing straight, Vi, okay?” you said, voice cold. “I’m not your little plaything. I don’t have low standards for someone like you.”

Her smirk twitched, but she stayed silent.

“You kissed another girl while you were with me—God knows what else you did—and you expect me to run into your arms?” You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Get the fuck over yourself and get your head out of your ass. I don’t want you. So stop bothering me.”

Before she could respond, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the locker room, leaving her standing there, speechless for once.

After finishing your classes for the day, you made a quick stop at Dutch Bros, treating yourself to an iced coffee before heading home. The caffeine was much needed after the grueling cheer practice and the long lectures.

When you stepped into the apartment, the smell of food immediately hit you. Jayce was in the kitchen, standing by the counter, focused on making himself a sandwich. His broad frame blocked most of the counter, but you could see the neatly stacked ingredients—deli meat, cheese, lettuce—laid out beside him.

“Oooh, make me one, please,” you asked, setting your drink down on the island.

Jayce glanced up at you briefly before nodding. “Yeah, sure.”

A grin tugged at your lips. “Thank you, housewife.”

Jayce rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, just continued assembling your sandwich like the “good” big brother he was.

As you leaned against the counter, sipping your coffee, he spoke up. “Are you gonna come to the soccer game tonight?”

You sighed, already knowing there was no escaping it. “Yeah. I have no choice—Jinx is driving.”

Jayce chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, she’s just like her sister. She doesn’t let up.”

That caught your attention. You furrowed your brows, setting your coffee down. “Who’s her sister?”

“Vi,” Jayce answered plainly, as if it were common knowledge.

Your eyebrow shot up instinctively. You let that piece of information sink in for a moment before scoffing. “Honestly… not even surprised.”

Jayce smirked as he slid the plate with your sandwich across the counter.

Then, after a pause, he hesitated before speaking. “Are you still mad at me about the party?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation.

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Then go ahead and lash out on me.”

You set your sandwich down and stared at him, your jaw tightening. “If you yell at me and degrade me the way you did at the party, I will cut your dick off and shove it so far up your ass you’ll be coughing it up,” you said, voice calm but laced with venom.

Jayce winced but didn’t interrupt.

“You know how I feel about people accusing me of relapsing,” you continued, your grip on the plate tightening. “And I especially hate it when you or Mom do it. A stupid Cayman Jack isn’t gonna make me relapse. I’m not that fucking weak.”

Jayce sighed, his expression shifting to guilt. “Right. I apologize.”

You exhaled slowly, picking your sandwich back up. “You’re forgiven.”

Jayce glanced at his phone, checking the time before grabbing his sandwich. “I gotta go—meeting with the coach before the game,” he said, taking one last bite before leaning down to kiss your cheek.

You hummed in acknowledgment, still focused on your food as he made his way to the door.

Just as he pulled it open, he nearly ran into Jinx, who had her hand raised as if she were about to knock. The two of them froze, staring at each other in mutual awkwardness before Jayce finally stepped aside, allowing her in. Without another word, he closed the door behind her and left.

Jinx turned toward you with a playful grin. “Hello, (Y/N),” she greeted, plopping onto the stool beside you.

You glanced at her, swallowing the last bite you took before returning the smile. “Why are you here so early?”

“I wanted to get food first, but clearly you have that figured out,” Jinx teased, eyeing your sandwich.

Your chewing slowed as you glanced down at your plate, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious about eating in front of her. You placed the sandwich down with exaggerated slowness, making her snicker.

“I’m still hungry, though,” you admitted. “Let me change, and then we can go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jinx said with a mock salute, watching as you rolled your eyes and dashed up the stairs.

The game started, and within minutes, you understood why the entire school had shown up. Your team wasn’t just good—they were insanely talented. Jayce commanded the field with pinpoint passes, Ekko’s footwork and kicks were pure finesse, and Vi? She was everywhere. Aggressive, quick, and completely in control, she weaved through the opposing team like she was made for this. Together, the three of them were an unstoppable force, dominating the game like a well-oiled machine.

You and Jinx cheered every time they scored, and the entire bleacher section erupted with each goal. The energy was electric, and even though you weren’t exactly a sports fan, you couldn’t deny how exciting it was to watch them play.

When the game ended in an easy victory, the stands emptied out, but the buzz didn’t die. Whispers spread quickly—there was a party tonight. Caitlyn Kiramman’s house.

Jinx nudged you with her elbow. “You coming?”

You scoffed. “Absolutely not. But you should go—with Ekko.”

She rolled her eyes, but you didn’t miss the way her lips curled into a barely-there smile.

As the two of you waited near the locker room gate, the team finally emerged, still high off their win. Ekko spotted Jinx immediately and wasted no time slinging an arm around her, pulling her into a hug. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them.

But before you could comment, a weight settled around your shoulders. You stiffened, turning your head to find Vi standing there, her arm lazily draped around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your jaw tightened. “Was me telling you off in that locker room not enough?”

Vi gave you an easy grin. “We can’t be friends?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine.” You let her arm stay there—until her hand drifted lower, groping your chest.

You scoffed, shoving her off. “What the fuck?!”

Vi held up her hands in mock innocence, her smirk unrepentant. “I had to. They were sitting so perfectly.”

Your glare could’ve set her on fire. “Touch me again, and I’ll kill you.”

Vi only laughed, grabbing your pointing finger and giving it a playful squeeze. “Walk with me. Please.”

You stared at her for a long moment before exhaling sharply. “…Fine.”

She wasted no time grabbing your hand, leading you away from the crowd toward a more secluded spot behind the bleachers.

“I wanna try again,” she said once you were alone.

You narrowed your eyes. “Try what again?”

“Taking you out.”

You snorted. “Be for real.”

“I am serious,” Vi insisted. “We can try again at the pool party tonight.”

You blinked at her. “Caitlyn Kiramman’s house? The cheer captain? You want me dead, don’t you?”

“I talked to Caitlyn,” Vi said smoothly. “Told her we aren’t gonna see each other anymore. She’s cool with it. And…I told her to leave you alone.”

You eyed her skeptically. “And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

Vi shrugged. “Believe what you want. But I handled it.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “…What about Jayce?”

“He’ll be too busy with Mel,” she said easily. “They’ve got a date tonight. He said he’s ‘gonna get lucky’ or whatever, so he’s definitely not gonna be there.”

You hesitated, mulling it over. “…Alright. But I swear to God, Vi, if you embarrass me, I will never let you live it down.”

“Fine,I promise,” she said with a chuckle. Then, before you could react, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

You barely had time to process the warmth before she pulled away, grinning. “I’ll pick you up at 8. Have a swimsuit on.”

And with that, she walked off, leaving you standing there—flustered and way more interested in this party than you’d ever planned to be.

taglist <3: @mommymilkers0526 @rhian88 @wrappedinvines @nanajustnana-a @prettybunnyscorner @s7nburn @ghutzz4gutz @pornoangelz @veladeangl @chaengluva @hauntedbydreams @taurtel @lorasdolly @catvi6luvr @savedforlaterr @eggphobic @alex-thegiraffeboyy @artfairyyyyy @jordynhartley2001 @ellieslefttit @h0n3yf0rlif3 @rizzscary @bjjeweledx @cherrybomb2298 @brooks-lin @vintagekarma @ags-artnstuff @axolotl-arsonist @mingitheii @baylegend6 @kiiramiz @lez-zuha @jupitism

[softestqueeen]

prompt: "Oh? Does that turn you on?" a/n: sub!spencer lives in my head rent free. i hope you like it, enjoy <3 so, this is a repost beacause the original post got literally 0 notes and i want to see if tumblr is the issue or if it was really my writing 😭 original post + request warings:18+ MDNI!!, smut, pet names, hand job, dom/sub dynamics, mommy kink pairing: sub!spencer reid x dom!reader I 979 words special prompts I special masterlist

You were standing in the kitchen of your boyfriends flat. Spencer Reid could do a lot of things and knew how to do even more things, but the one thing he never quite mastered, was cooking.

By no means were you a good chef, but you knew you way around a kitchen and could whip up a few meals. Which is why you were currently in Spencers kitchen, showing him how to do a simple lasagna.

"And that's how you do the layers. The key is to stay consistent and make the layers even. Now you go ahead and try, Spence."

Your boyfriend didn't enjoy the cooking as much as the close proximity while you were showing him how to do all the steps, guiding his hands or just hugging him from the side while watching something cook.

Watching Spencer cook away made pride swell in your chest. This wasn't your first cooking lesson and it was definetely a dramatic improvement from your first one, where you had a quick bathroom back and once you returned he managed to completely burn the pasta sauce. He looked like a kicked puppy while you threw the sauce away.

But since then he had gotten significantly better, even surprising you with a home cooked meal on your anniversery.

Once Spencer successfully laid out the next layer of the long pasta and sauce, you couldn't help but smile.

"You did such a good job, you're getting better and better," you knew your boyfriend loved it when you praised him, so you decided to tease him a little bit with it ,"you're such a good boy, Spencer."

That made him stop. Spencer was glad that he wasn't facing you right now, but rather was standing at the counter with you standing behind him to his right, now looking at his face. You immediately saw his blush, but Spencer was glad you couldn't see the boner he was now sporting after hearing his words.

He knew you were teasing him in a way, though you were still earnest. Still, he couldn't keep his body from reacting, the words planting a seed inside of his mind in a place he hadn't dared to discover yet.

You could see immediately what had happened, how your words affected Spencer. A slow smile spread over your face and you stepped closer to him, your lips now directly next to his ear.

"Oh, does that turn you on? I didn't know you liked being called that, though you were always my good boy." Now you were being a bit mean, but you knew that Spencer would tap out if it got too much.

At you calling him a good boy again, Spencers breath hitched. He wasn't surprised that you almost immediately caught on to his feelings.

You reached around his hip, palming his length through his trousers, making Spencer moan. Starting to pepper kisses over his neck, while Spencer leaned against you, just teasing him for now.

"You like that, baby? Me calling you a good boy?" He could hear you so clearly with your mouth directlly to his ear and his cock twitched in reaction to your filthy words.

It took him a moment to register that you asked him a question, but once he did he nodded, putting more of his weight against you.

"Words, baby, I need words. Be a good boy for me or I'll stop."

"Y- Yes, I- uhm, do like it when you call me that. Please, please I need you."

You could feel him throbbing though his trousers, deciding to have some mercy. Slowly undoing his belt and popping open the button of his jeans. Reaching inside you pull out his length, the tip glistening with precum as Spencer let out a relieved sigh.

Taking him in your hand you slowly start to move up and down, spreading the precum on his length. His pretty moans and whines only spurred you on further, not yet increasing your speed, but the grip you had on him, making him gasp.

You knew this was a new situation for the both of you, the dynamic itself already familiar. You decided to test out the waters, Spencer now being able to think clear enough incase he felt uncomfortable with anything.

"Such a good boy for mommy, huh? You like my hand wrapped arounf you?" Spencer moaned at your filthy words, his cock twitching imaptiently in your hand.

"Yes mommy, please more." Jackpot.

You went faster over his length, your free hand wandering to his front as well, slipping under his t-shirt and sprawling out over his stomach, making his muscles contract.

"You're doing so well for me, baby. I can feel you're getting closer."

"Please, mommy, make me cum. I want to be good for you." His breathing was getting more irregular and you could feel him being impossibly close to his high.

"Don't worry baby, yo're already such a good boy for me. Cum for me, cum for mommy."

Your words finally tipped him over the edge, his cum spurting all over his stomach and your hand. You continued to stroke him, your movements slowing down while he calmed down as well.

You peppered kisses onto evey free patch of skin you could reach at the moment and retracted your hand, taking a paper towel to clean you both up. After washing your hands and cleaning up the evidence of your short lived passion, you were ready to get things done.

"Well I'd say you finish the lasagna and then we'll contine. What do you say, Spence?"

With those words you left a stunned and sputtering Spencer behind. He turned around, looking at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes. But once you gave him a pointed look, he immediately went back to the lasagna. 

You were sure you've never seen someone layer anything that fast.

the requests for this event are OPEN until sunday (16/02)! here are the prompts!

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueeen

requests open! (now also for the x files)

taglist: @silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@bigbananaa @mmmmokdok

[pomefioredove]

May I please have a sugar cookie, #7, with candy cane and sprinkles? 👉👈

certainly (* ^ ω ^)

order #7, sugar with sprinkles, candy cane

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ assertive

summary: after seeing you rebound, he realizes he's not quite over you tropes: exes to lovers, hurt/comfort characters: trey additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, short and sweet

"I just don't like the way he's looking at them,"

Cater looks up from his cup, and the foam heart he was trying to snap a pic of melts into his latte.

"You can barely see his face. And you've said that like, three times," the ginger says. "You've barely even touched your mug. It's basically iced coffee now."

Trey finally looks at Cater, his neck sore from craning over his shoulder.

His mug is cold to the touch.

"I'm starting to think you only invited me here 'cause you knew the Prefect was coming. Like, ouch," Cater smiles.

Trey's face flushes red. "What! No, I-I just thought the shop had a good deal today,"

Cater rolls his eyes.

"As much as I love drama, this is lowkey sad," he says. "You need to move on, Trey. It's been months."

Trey knows he's right, which makes his observation hurt even more. He mumbles some poor excuse into his cup of lukewarm coffee, but he can't keep his eyes to himself for long.

"He definitely goes to RSA. I don't trust him," he mutters, eyeing the boy you're with.

"Che'nya goes to RSA, doesn't he?"

"Would you trust Che'nya with your ex?"

"Yeowch. Point taken," Cater smiles, stirring his untouched latte with a dainty spoon. "So, what are you gonna do about it?"

Trey hesitates. He would have loved to just... march over there and steal you away from that pompous bastard...

But he won't.

"Nothing,"

"Pfft," Cater snorts. "You need to be more assertive, man. Otherwise we're just stalking the Prefect. Yeah, that'll impress them."

"It's not about that!! And it's not stalking!"

Cater rolls his eyes and returns to his phone, the uninvited third wheel of every outing with him.

Still, his words bother Trey. That was the problem, wasn't it? He just wasn't... assertive.

He didn't take your side, or stand up for you. He wasn't there when you needed him most, the fool. That's why you dumped him.

If assertive is what you want...

Trey stands, surprising Cater to the point of putting his phone away, and he marches across the coffee shop, brow furrowed, arms firmly at his side. The RSA boy you're with sees him first, and then you.

"Trey? What are you-"

"You," he says, pointing right at the white-uniform wearing, silver-spoon sucking little bastard.

Your jaw drops. The boys' eyes widen (does he look familiar or what?) Cater pushes his chair out, as if preparing to intervene.

Trey takes a deep breath.

"You... you treat them right, do you hear me? Prefect is the sweetest person I know, and they deserve someone just as perfect! Listen to them, okay? Be the person they can rely on, they can trust... the person I- that I wasn't. Just- you'd better be a good boyfriend, or I'll make you regret it, alright?!"

Cater sits back down. Both you and the boy you're with seem to soften, more confused than concerned now.

Trey turns and marches back to his seat. "Let's go,"

The ginger grins and looks behind him. Trey follows his gaze, and it's... you.

"Did you follow me?" you demand. His face goes bright red.

"Uh... um, I... yes. But I only wanted to make sure you were okay. That's... all I've ever wanted,"

Cater gives him a double thumbs-up. You frown, and he mutters a quick "I'll go wait outside" before darting out the door. Trey's blush darkens to crimson.

"Listen, I'm really sorry I interrupted your date. I just wanted to make sure you were being taken care of, and-"

"Trey," you stop him. "I'm not on a date. And that's not my boyfriend."

Huh.

...What?

"Oh?"

You sigh, gesturing between the two. "Trey, Neige. Neige, Trey," and you lower your voice. "I'm here on Vil's behalf. Some movie thing."

Ohh. That makes sense. Trey's face only gets redder, if possible, and he clears his throat. "...My mistake,"

Your frown softens, and you sigh.

"You couldn't have known... and... thanks for worrying about me, I guess. Maybe next time we can talk in private?"

Next time. Trey's heart flutters at the promise, if he dare call it that, and he nods.

"A-ah, of course. Next time,"

[00valentina-writes00]

How about sevika with a terminally sick gf. I really loved the one you wrote for vi

♡♥︎Sevika with a terminally ill girlfriend♥︎♡

♥︎ Sevika doesn’t show much, but she’s absolutely destroyed when she finds out. There’s a crack in her usually unflappable armor, a flicker of vulnerability she tries to bury beneath her usual hard edges.

♥︎ She doesn’t talk about it much, but she starts keeping tabs on doctors, researching treatments, and trying to get her hands on any illegal or experimental cures she can afford. She won’t let you give up, even if you’re already resigned.

♥︎ Her usual harshness turns into something colder. She doesn’t waste time with anything unnecessary. If she’s going to help you, it’s going to be in the most effective way possible. No sentimental words, just straight to the point: “I’ll fix this. You’re not dying on me.”

♥︎ When you start getting weaker, she gets more demanding. She pushes you to eat, to stay awake, to fight. She’s relentless because if she doesn’t see you fight, it breaks her apart

♥︎ There are nights when she stays up late, arms crossed, staring out at the dark streets of Zaun, thinking about ways to make you better. Even the shimmer she injects into her system doesn’t offer any comfort when she watches you fade.

♥︎ She spends hours researching obscure treatments, bargaining with shady figures, doing whatever it takes to extend your life, even if it’s just a few more weeks or days. It doesn’t matter how much it costs.

♥︎ At some point, she starts finding herself hovering at your side all the time. She doesn’t want to leave. Not even to sleep. It becomes a strange routine for her, a kind of forced comfort where the silence between you is full of things neither of you are brave enough to say.

♥︎ If you’re awake enough, she’ll push your hair out of your face, but she won’t look you in the eyes. She doesn’t know how to handle the emotions you bring out in her, and it terrifies her.

♥︎ She never asks you how you’re feeling or if you want to talk about it, because she’s afraid you’ll say that you’re giving up. She can’t handle hearing it from your lips, even though she knows deep down you’re right.

♥︎ She starts to get more agitated, snapping at people who are just trying to help because nothing feels like it’s good enough. If anyone says something remotely positive about your situation, she shuts them down hard. She can’t pretend like there’s hope when there’s none.

♥︎ When you can’t leave the bed anymore, Sevika starts bringing everything to you. Food, water, medicine, books to distract you—anything to keep you from slipping further into the darkness.

♥︎ She never shows her tears, but sometimes when she thinks you’re sleeping, she finds herself staring at you, face etched with raw pain, her jaw clenched tight to hold back the wave of emotions that threatens to drown her.

♥︎ Her temper is worse than usual. She’s quick to lash out at others, mostly because she’s so incredibly fucking scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of not being able to save you. And she hates herself for not being able to fix it.

♥︎ She makes herself scarce around people when it gets worse. She’s quieter, more brooding, because the weight of her guilt and helplessness is too heavy to share. The only place she feels even a little bit in control is by your side.

♥︎ On the nights you’re too weak to speak, she holds your hand with a tightness that borders on painful. Her touch is demanding, like she’s afraid you’ll slip away in the blink of an eye.

♥︎ She doesn’t let you see her fear. Every day is a reminder of how much she’s failing you. And every time she sees that spark of hope in your eyes, it drives her mad because she knows she can’t keep it alive forever.

♥︎ As things worsen, she starts avoiding the topic of your death. It feels like a betrayal every time someone mentions it. She ignores the reality, pretending there’s a chance things will magically improve.

♥︎ When you do finally die, it feels like she’s been hit by a freight train. The finality of it leaves her in a state of shock, unable to process it. She doesn’t cry in front of you, not even when she closes your eyes for the last time.

♥︎ Sevika keeps busy after your passing. She throws herself into work, into anything that will distract her from the empty space beside her. She stops sleeping, drinking herself into oblivion, until her body can’t keep up with her broken heart.

♥︎ There are days when the memories hit her in waves. She can still hear your voice in her head, your laugh, the way you’d complain when she pushed too hard. And every time, it feels like a weight she can’t shake.

♥︎ People stop asking her how she’s doing because it’s obvious. She doesn’t need words anymore. The silence speaks for her. She’s the same outwardly—cold, distant—but internally, she’s unraveling, a mess of emotions she doesn’t know how to deal with.

♥︎ She tries to convince herself it’s better this way. You aren’t suffering anymore, and she can’t deny that you were getting worse. But she also knows she’ll never be the same again. That part of her is gone, taken by something she could never control.

♥︎ In the long run, Sevika doesn’t let anyone get close to her again. The wound you left in her will never heal, and she doesn’t think anyone could ever fill the hole you left behind. Not that she’s ready for that anyway

♥︎ But every now and then, when she’s alone, she lets herself think back to you. To the time you spent together, how you made her laugh, how you made her feel alive again. And she lets herself grieve the woman who was once hers.

[sharky-teeth]

anyone looking for more wincest fic recs?? nobody?? okay here you go anyway. i have a bunch of fics i couldn't fit into the other list, so i needed to make a brand new one with more variety this time around. i organized it by wordcount to make things easier, however i rarely read long fics, so these are mostly pretty short. once again this list got way out of hand...

(for mature or explicit rating, you can assume it's [sometimes implied] bottom sam, or it isn't discussed. for bottom dean or versatile samdean, i made a small separate section of my favorites.)

1k~5k

Remember the Mountain Bed by nigeltde (G, 1k): post canon. sam and dean jr. one of the only fics that have ever made me cry and with only a thousand words! this one is so very dear to my heart, heartbreaking in its details, yet warm and soothing at the same time. just gorgeous.

Are You by lovetincture (G, 1k): one of my favorite gen fics. i adore second person POV and this is a great example of how it can maximize impact.

I Was the Dirty Little Boy (E, 1k): a quick weecest sparring session turning into spanking... you know. the good stuff.

Stealth Run by LaughableLament (E, 1k): late seasons + established relationship + possessive dean + slutty sam. i love this author a lot.

State of Mind by lovetincture (M, 2k): the summary goes "It's legal in the state of Ohio." yes it is as good as suggested. the tension in this fic mwahh

The Euphoria Emporium by Laughable_Lament (E, 2k): sam and dean visit a sex shop and dean gets jealous. quick and nasty.

Be Mine by De_Nugis (T, 2k): first part of a short series. for people who love silly, goofy samdean. this is no plot, pure crack. the kind that actually makes you laugh out loud.

Dating for Dummies by sevenfists (M, 3k): there's not enough first time aftermath fics. this has ruined me because it is the exact level of lighthearted i love, where the brothers continue being brothers first and foremost, even after boning.

We Are Drinking Beer at Noon on Tuesday by whirlpoolsleep (M, 3k): neat outsider POV. always love seeing the brothers through normal people's eyes.

With Mercy for the Greedy by whiskyandoldspice (E, 3k): unmatched weecest pwp. the amount of hits/kudos doesn't always mean quality but for this one it absolutely does. this is pretty much flawless in my eyes.

August 5th, 2001 by coricomile (M, 4k): established weecest! this was cute and tender with the right amount of angst surrounding sam's imminent departure. bittersweet ending.

Run It All Over by runawaydr3amer (E, 4k): first part of a series. the classic "brotherly handjobs" scenario, but it immediately stood out to me. really on point voices and hot amosphere.

Dean's palm would be rougher by FrancesHouseman (M, 4k): hand kink! i think we can all relate to sam here. this has a scene that's hotter than many pwps i've read lol

Know when to walk away and know when to run by deirdre_c (E, 4k): brothers playing strip poker goes too far... set in s3. great sexual tension and a super satisfying first time.

At Least It's Only One Song by ADeedWithoutaName (E, 4k): dean-gifting-sam-a-lap-dance fic. another outsider POV with an instantly likable OC. she can tell there's something off about those guys...

sticks and stones and weed and bones by aeroport_art (M, 5k): sam seeing a therapist at stanford. really great character study and winchester family dynamics. the conclusion to this story is just... crazy. so well done.

Shadows on the Sun by Linden (M, 5k): soft weecest first kiss! the thing i liked most in this story is how protective they both are. nice brotherly feelings.

wretched creation (M, 5k): one of my favorite reads of last year! criminally underrated work with less than a thousand hits. angsty feels and an unsettling atmosphere. dean facing a demon who knows more about his feelings toward his little brother than he'd like.

Forty-One by themegalosaurus (E, 5k): angsty unnegotiated kinky sex with lots of hell trauma. the kind of porn that's so nuanced and well written it doesn't get me horny (that's a compliment!)

Monumentally Stupid by strive2bhappy (5k): dean helps sam shave and it was hotter than i could ever imagine. great banter, tension, and emotional weight.

Double Solitaire by objectlesson (M, 5k): post mystery spot. amazing character study through a very creative concept. this is one of the authors who really knew how to write dysfunctional wincest.

6k~10k

this bullet inside me by missroserose (E, 6k): who's up for angsty first time in a long time? if you enjoy hathfrozen (i'm sure you do), this will definitely hit a similar spot.

Belonging by strive2bhappy (6k): wifey sam. i repeat Wifey Sam!!!

Lucky Streak by merle_p (M, 6k): thirsty pining done so right. incest that gives you butterflies in the stomach, believe it or not.

You Can't Lose What You Never Had by nigeltde (E, 6k): nigeltde is an incredible writer. from beginning to end this fic is insane. angsty, desperate, emotional, shameful, this takes you on a rollercoaster of emotions. top notch characterization.

How it Works by Dyed_Red (M, 6k): this is probably in my top ten fics of all time, peak codependent, obsessive, dysfunctional samdean. this particular fic really nails their dynamic and the most delicious, fucked up aspects of it.

Taking to Give by Dyed_Red (M, 7k): lovely character study. this one is a bit softer than most Dyed_Red works, it offers an emotional view of sam and dean growing up. heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time.

Wire Inside Me by merle_p (E, 7k): the sam-is-carrying-lucifer's-baby fic. this story is great for how it deals with the pregnancy pushing dean over the edge. the first time tension here is excellent!

Dean is badass. Sam has always known it. by FrancesHouseman (E, 7k): very interesting dynamic with sam and dean playing mind games to see who gives in first. i like this cocky sam a lot.

Hush Little Baby by hellhoundsprey (E, 7k): CNC weecest. sam and dean go to a haunted house and get up to some nasty freaky shit. it's even better than you can imagine. fyi there's dean in a clown costume.

they said it was the fall of man by jukeboxhound (M, 7k): set in s6, the aftermath of sam getting his soul back through dean's POV. pure angst and overwhelming emotions, beautifully written, it hurt so good.

Man of Steel by glovered (T, 8k): THE lighthearted incest fic for me. along the lines of paxlux's 'Artery', at least to me. this borders on crack, a hilarious, feel-good story that always makes me smile when i think about it.

Disney Princess Hair by Dyed_Red (T, 8k): gencest/weirdcest in its best shape. sam as sleeping beauty! and obviously dean being very very very weird about handling the curse. i loved how this touched on the obsessive aspects of their relationship while keeping the tone light.

Architecture of Choice by Dyed_Red (E, 9k): yes another Dyed_Red work bc they're my favorite author. this one has one of my fave tropes (fuck or die) and it deals with sam's lack of bodily autonomy in a visceral way.

Pull over by jjtaylor (E, 9k): for my piss play enjoyers! this has lots of great tension and it goes way beyond kinky sex.

This Is All Very Meta by road_rhythm (E, 10k): loss of virginity roleplay fic. except it's sooo much more than that. i thought this would be fun and lighthearted, couldn't have been more wrong. the emotional depth delivered here caught me by surprise, but it shouldn't have, given the author. flawless characterization as usual.

God will forgive me but by sammyatstanford (E, 10k): weecest with lots of pining!sam and angsty yearning. brothers who need each other in sick, twisted ways. there was also a great amount of actual brotherly feelings, which is always a plus in my book.

>10k

Acid by Goshen (E, 12k): to this day one of the most insane things ever written. this fic is a classic, it's a surreal experience, a fever dream. dissecting the brotherfuckers, no stone left unturned.

Baby Blue by Edwardina (E, 13k): sam gets hit with a curse that makes him need to suck on a pacifier 24/7. it turned out to be way less sexual than i expected, this is for caretaker!dean lovers.

Learn to say the same thing by glovered (T, 14k): great case fic. sam and dean go to a single's retreat in the mountains for a case and eventually have to confront their incestuous feelings. every glovered fic just fills me with joy.

Supersize Me, Sammy by awabubbles (E, 16k): sadly one of the only size queen sam fics ever written, but it is absolutely perfect so i made my peace with that.

Only Natural (Be My Hands) (E, 17k): sam manages to break both his wrists so dean steps up to take care of his needs. and i mean all of his needs.

Relapse by ani_coolgirl (M, 21k): lebanon AU. i adore this fic, i'm in love with it, i think about it all the time and will think about it forever probably. everything here was done incredibly well, one of those fics that feel specifically made for me lol

Edges by glovered (M, 23k): amazing banter and lots of UST. set in stanford era but it's not really angsty. the tone was just perfect for me, this fic had me GIDDY.

Driving Down the Darkness by Nutkin (M, 39k): one of my faves in terms of Brotherly Feels. extremely well written and thoughtful, super slow burn. outstanding early seasons getting together fic that everyone should read.

Like a Ghost with Two Voices by Dyed_Red (E, 46k): my favorite demon!dean fic. some of the wildest scenes i've ever read. pretty disturbing and incredibly delicious. if you're into fucked up consent stuff, this is a must read. it has a happy ending!

bottom dean and versatile samdean recs:

Take Backs by saltandbyrne (E, 2k): swesson + switching. hands down one of the best PWPs i've ever read, which was to be expected from saltandbyrne. it really doesn't get filthier than this.

How to Wear Polka Dots by homo_pink (M, 6k): swesson. this one is so so weird. and so charming. interesting and refreshing writing style, i had so much fun reading this.

Here's Your Future by autoschediastic (E, 7k): weecest with teasing!dean for a change. loved the power dynamics here, and the intensity throughout the whole fic. desperate, guilty first time, badwrong at its finest.

Enduring Love by oschun (E, 7k): really enjoyed the relationship study here, insightful and well written.

there will be better days by deadlybride (E, 9k): my favorite heaven fic! so warm and peaceful and emotional, full of love and longing and happy reunited soulmates. just thinking about this story makes my heart ache in the best way. really really beautiful.

Yeah, I'm a Back Door Man (E, 22k): established relationship. dean's hell trauma. this was a rollercoaster, great character study, good mix of angst and schmoop as well. probably the best bottom dean i've read so far (along with a couple Goshen works)

Yesterday, minnesota by Goshen: (E, 29k): speaking of applecrumbledore... this fic truly rewired my brain. the queen of "fucking for years without talking about it until one of them snaps". brilliantly executed, one of my favorite deans ever.

yay it's finally over! still i wish i had more long fics to rec lmao do check tags carefully before reading! enjoy the wincest goodness!

[kimoralov3]

click cute - 16

<- previous next -> | masterlist

your suitcase rolls behind you as you step into the air bnb, taking in your surroundings. being friends with sarah definitely had it’s perks.

“y/n, you’re here!” you hear a voice call from the top of the stairs. you remove your glasses with a smile, bracing yourself as sarah runs up and hugs you.

“sarah! oh my god, you look so good! fresh highlights?” you ask as you pull away, taking in your friend’s new look.

“of course. you know i had to look good for vacation.” she says as she does a little shoulder shimmy. you snort at that. she was really something else. “how was your flight? sorry i couldn’t go with you, i had to get here early to make sure everything was all good.”

“girl, you flew us first class. even if i did have complaints, you would not be hearing anything from me.” you say as you loop your arms together. she throws her head back in laughter, bumping her hip with yours.

“glad you enjoyed it. only the best for my girls.” she says teasingly before turning her head towards the stairs. “john b! come down here really quick!”

the sound of quick footsteps follow sarah’s call, along with the visual of a brown haired boy taking the steps two at a time. “oh hey, you must be y/n.” he says as he holds his arm out for a handshake.

“yeah, i am! it’s nice to meet the guy sarah won’t shut up about.” you say, causing sarah to playfully elbow you in the side. john b laughs at that, pulling sarah closer to him and slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“all good things, i’d hope.” he says as he presses a kiss to her head. as much as you hated to admit it in an attempt of solidarity with lex, the two of them were cute together. really cute together. 

“so, is anyone else here? or are we the first ones?” you ask as you grab hold of your suitcase once more.

“oh no, jess and jj are upstairs ‘blessing’ their room.” sarah says with barely contained laughter. you make a face of disgust, a hand coming up to your chest.

“ew, gross. please tell me my room isn’t right next to theirs?” you ask with a laugh.

sarah quickly shakes her head. “oh no, i could never do that to you. me, john b, and lex’s room is right next to theirs.” she explains. oh, thank god. you could not handle sleeping next to an overly “touchy” couple and— wait a minute.

“wait, you guys are sharing with lex? why?” you ask as you look between the two of them. god, let’s put those facial muscles to use to hide your shock at how bad of an idea this was.

“there’s only four rooms. we figured jess and jj would need their own rooms, and pope and rafe can’t share for some reason—” sarah starts.

“rafe complains about pope staying up all night to play his games, pope complains about rafe waking up at ungodly hours to do his in room workout routines or whatever.” john b intercepts as he scratches his eyebrow. there was definitely a story there. 

“so i’m rooming with pope?” you ask for clarification. judging by the look on sarah’s face, that was not quite the case. 

“no, actually. you’re uh, you’re rooming with rafe.” she says, looking anywhere but your eyes.

this was fine. it wasn’t a big deal. the two of you had made up or whatever, so you weren’t really mad at him anymore. but there was that whole thing about you possibly hearing him call you cute, so it was still awkward, as some people would say.

“that’s fine!” you say, pretending not to notice how high your voice had gotten. you clear your throat before speaking again. “so, does that mean pope is rooming with cleo and aubs?”

“oh, yeah. there really wasn’t anywhere else to put him. plus you know how aubs is, she goes to sleep pretty late anyways.” sarah says. she had a point; you had woken up to one too many 2 am text messages from aubree about any and everything that was on her mind. 

“well good luck to pope.” you say with a chuckle, ignoring that pesky feeling in the pit of your stomach. you were overreacting, really. it wouldn’t be that bad, or awkward, or weird or whatever to room with rafe.

right?

taglist: @arkofblake @ivysprophecy @murdockcastleslut @lmaowhatt @fruitcakerafe @ayy1234567 @freyawhitexxx1 @my-name-is-baby @baocean @yesshewrites1 @gxuxhdjdu @cyberkitty1 @hypnotizedstarkey @eddxemxnson @amterasuu @bee-43 @dreamybabbyy @hello-therree @marleymarleymarleymarley @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starsval @cali-888 @chalametlover444 @uarmyhopeworldwide

[lovelynim]

Vidyadhara's preferences

Honkai Star Rail - Caelus x Dan Heng

Collab with @otomiyaa

A/N: I'm sooo excited to announce that I could count on no other than @otomiyaa herself for this little project - in case you guys don't know where this came from

It was really fun to write this fic and I just want to thank Ginny for accepting my request. Hope I get the chance to repeat the dose again some other time, heheh ~

Summary: Did you know that the vidyadhara prefer cooler waters over hot baths? As for Caelus, not so much.

Word count: 2727 words nice

Pressing his eyes close, Caelus let out a soft groan as he woke up. What time was it, anyway? He was still struggling to understand the passage of time of the people from Okhema. Even the people inside Herta’s Space Station had nights and days, how come the people in here didn’t invent a better way to tell the hours apart?

Caelus brought his hand up to his face, rubbing the corners of his eyes to try to get rid of the drowsiness from his sleep. “Hnngh.. ahh ~” He gasped softly, sitting up and stretching his arms high above his head.

“Good morning, Caelus.”

The familiar voice coming from the other side of the room made his eyes open wide. Caelus looked around, his eyes quickly spotting Dan Heng’s figure, sitting inside the bath, all naked and- wait, naked?!

“D-Dan Heng- caham, you, ahm, did you wake up early?” Caelus ratched his cheek with his index finger, feeling a bit of heat under his digit while his eyes battled to not stare at Dan Heng’s bare silhouette like a hungry beast glaring at its prey.

Dan Heng smiled slightly, turning around to look at Caelus and leaning on the border of the bath. “I can’t tell. There was some noise outside when I got up, but I’m not sure if it’s the bath house’s workers or if it's open to visitors.”

“Right- ahm, d-did you-”

“No, I was waiting for you to eat something. I figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to have a meal by myself - or just with the company of the Heirs,” Dan Heng explained, leaning his head on his hand.

The clear water didn’t exactly do a good job covering Dan Heng’s body, neither did the small soapy bubbles floating around. Caelus wasn’t exactly the one to get shy - in fact, between them, he was the one to usually make the first move whenever they were at it - but being greeted with a naked man first thing in the morning definitely caught him off guard.

“Ehh? ~ Is it?” Caelus grinned, pushing himself up from his ‘bed’ and already tugging at the hem of his white tank top, taking it off in a swift move, “can I join you? A nice bath sounds like a good way to start the day ~”

“Got it,” Caelus coughed, trying to keep himself composed, “then, are you waiting for long?”

“Not really,” Dan Heng muttered, turning back around and sinking a little into the water, lifting his hand from under the water and letting it drip down his arm, “I decided to take a bath shortly after I got up, it must’ve been just a couple minutes I’m here… I must admit the water is, indeed, as relaxing as Aglaea promised it to be.”

“Be my guest,” Dan Heng replied quietly, resting his head back on the border of the bath.

Eager to join, Caelus noted Dan Heng’s subtle stare when he stripped his lower half as well and left the garments in a messy heap on the floor. However, without commenting, Dan Heng calmly watched Caelus as he dropped himself into the water right beside him.

A quick action he regretted very soon.

“AYEHH!” Caelus screeched at the sudden cold. The water was freezing! His yell still echoed through the room as he slowly turned his head to shoot Dan Heng a horrified look. Dan Heng calmly stared back.

“Is something wrong?” 

Pffft! “O-o-obviously! Why so c-cold?!” He would’ve jumped out immediately, but he found himself frozen, literally, as if an invisible force kept him trapped here in the bath next to his lover.

Dan Heng scooped some water up and eyed him quietly. “It’s not that cold.” 

Caelus couldn’t believe him. He sat down and crossed his arms over his chest, his whole body shivering. Scooting closer against Dan Heng, he pouted and tried to breathe in and out, trying to get used to the temperature. 

“Y-you’re right. It’s - f-freezing,” he whined. 

Dan Heng shook his head. “You’re exaggerating.” 

It definitely felt better when Caelus was pressed against Dan Heng whose body felt warmer than the icy cold water, but it didn’t stop him from shivering. Goosebumps were all over his body, and he leaned even closer against Dan Heng.

“Dan Heng~” he whined. He just couldn’t get used to it. He was pleased when Dan Heng finally responded by wrapping his arm around his shoulder, welcoming the cuddle.

“It’s really not that cold,” Dan Heng chuckled. 

Caelus rubbed against him. “It is. But I can handle it if you warm me up.”

“I’m already warming you up.” It indeed felt better with Dan Heng’s arm around him, but Caelus didn’t feel warm enough yet. 

“I n-need to get warmer,” he answered huskily, hoping to have the other to read between the lines of his actions. ‘Take the lead, dummy’, he repeated inside his head, pouting on the outside.

“It will no longer be a good bath if the water gets any hotter,” Dan Heng explained, his eyes staring at nothing as he rubbed Caelus’s shoulder with his thumb. “The water is perfect as it is right now.”

Tsk, for someone that smart, he was surely dense when it was convenient. Caelus rested his head on Dan Heng’s shoulder - refusing to unwrap his arms from around his own body. He could feel the cold piercing his skin, each new inch of skin soaked in that thing - that could be described as ‘liquid ice’ instead of water - making him shiver and tense up all over again.

Well, guess it was on him for trying to get steamy at his dragon boyfriend’s cold bath. Still, would it kill him to be a little romantic?!

“L-Lizards are supposed to like basking in t-t-the sun and things to warm their cold blood, not this,” Caelus tried to sound upset and make his scolding convincing, but his shivering jaw would barely allow him to speak.

Still, those words were clear enough to get into Dan Heng’s nerves. “‘Lizards’?” Dan Heng repeated, scooping some of the water with the bathing spoon and pouring it on Caelus' back, making him screech.

“D-D-DON’T DO THAT!” Caelus cried, arching closer to Dan Heng’s body.

“Hm? I just figured you’d need some help to clean yourself since you’re still getting used to the water,” he explained, barely bothering to hide the mischief as he settled the spoon away and wrapped his arm around Caelus’ body again.

“I-I told you to w-warm me up, not to mAHah- D-Dan Heng!”

It took Dan Heng a single poke against Caelus’ upper ribs to stop his complaints. He grinned, looking at Caelus with the corner of his eyes as he tapped the same spot again, teasing the other since he was ‘too cold’ to fight back anyway. 

“Yes?” He feigned ignorance, his finger tracing down from Caelus’ ribs to his side, leaving a trace of goosebumps and cold water on his skin. “Is there another problem besides the water?”

“D-d-don’t do t-that either,” Caelus hissed. He felt his face getting red instead of pale. There was a mischievous glint in Dan Heng’s eyes, and he recognized that look.

“Don’t what?” he asked. Caelus refused to say it, to fall for such a lame joke, but he didn’t need to. Suddenly Dan Heng’s finger tracing his side was joined by his four other fingers and they started to dance playfully up and down, tickling him effectively. 

To think a body could feel so cold and so frozen, but still be this ticklish. “AHHhah Dan Heheheng nohoho!” he whined dramatically. He tried to pull back, but Dan Heng grabbed him and held him tightly while continuing to tickle him.

“What’s wrong? I’m warming you up like you asked.” Well, Caelus couldn’t deny that. The way he was suddenly laughing by force, his body pressed against Dan Heng and with this strange tingly feeling rushing right through him, he was definitely feeling a little warmer than earlier.

Still, this was bad.

Caelus couldn’t help but to squirm, kicking and splashing the water around them. He wanted to run from the tickles and avoid that devious hand torturing his poor, cold side, but that would also mean he needed to crawl away and sit amidst the freezing water again, away from the slightly warm haven he just began to create.

“Thahat’s so unfahair!” Caelus giggled and cried, both at the same time. He held onto Dan Heng’s free hand with both of his, too stunned by the cold to do anything but to take the tickling. “Y-your- AhAHA, yohohour hand is cohohold too!~”

“I wonder why,” Dan Heng mocked, smiling along with his shivering boyfriend as he clawed a bit lower, dragging his nails around the curve of Caelus’s waist and up towards his back. Of course, he also needed to make sure Caelus was enjoying the bath to the fullest. “The more you avoid the water, the longer it will take for you to get used to it.”

“B-but ihihit’s cohohOHOLD!” Caelus gasped, not even sure of how he should react when Dan Heng suddenly shifted his attention back to his waist. “L-lehehet me o-out! H-hahHa, I-I dohohon’t want to bahath anymohore!”

Despite not having a proper answer - only managing to get some soft, quiet chuckles from Dan Heng - Caelus knew he wouldn’t be getting anywhere until Dan Heng said so. 

Ticklish. Cold. Ticklish, then cold again. His nerves flicked between both stimuli like a switch, leaving Caelus laughing like a dork in Cold Dragon Young’s embrace. As cruel as Dan Heng could be (according to Caelus’ records of this story), there was no denying in how he was, indeed, becoming more comfortable and used to the bath’s temperature as each second passed them by.

Warmth started flowing through his body again, starting from his chest and spreading through his limbs. While he continued to laugh and squirm in Dan Heng’s embrace, Caelus tried to move his arms, and when he noticed he was getting control back over his body in the freezing water, he immediately acted.

“I can see you’re warming up a bit. See? It does help when I’mー” Dan Heng did not get to finish whatever smug comment he was about to make. Before he could realize it, Caelus caught the hand that was still tickling him mercilessly and stopped it on its tracks. Uh oh. “Cael–”

Caelus tightened the grip around Dan Heng’s wrist, making sure those fingers weren’t coming back anywhere near his body anytime soon and using his returning strength to block that tickle attack. “Yeah, it was really helpful,” he sighed, taking a deep breath to let the air back into his lungs, his breathing still a bit erratic after the ticklish assault, “I think it’s only fair I return the favor”.

“But,” Dan Heng hissed nervously, trying to pull his hand free, “the water is perfect to me, I don’t need help with it.”

Flashing a playful, mischievous grin, Caelus pulled Dan Heng’s hand and dragged him closer. In a matter of seconds, he turned around and got himself on top of the other’s lap, his hand latched just above Dan Heng’s hip, digging his thumb in and rubbing circles on the tender (and cold) spot. “Then maybe help you bath should make us even, right?”

“Y-you’re nohot hehelping at ahall!” Caelus smiled to hear Dan Heng’s restrained giggles as he continued to touch him just lightly, rubbing and stroking his hip and moving up slowly. He wasn’t even really tickling him yet, but the soft touch and anticipation alone were enough to make the usually cool Dan Heng already react this way.

“Oh, but I’m going to,” Caelus sang. Dan Heng jolted as soon as he dug his fingers in, just slightly, but enough for it to tickle so much that water splashed all around them because of Dan Heng’s strong reaction. A water drip rolled down Caelus’s cheek and he cocked his head, a smirk stretching his lips when he noted Dan Heng’s cute, flustered expression.

Caelus felt a shiver slide down his back with the sound of that giggly cry. Part of him actually wanted to go a little harder and have Dan Heng cackling like an idiot for a change, but there was something so charming about this quiet laughter, the contained mirth and the held back gasps that Caelus couldn’t bring himself to go over it - at least, not now.

“Don’t you dare,” Dan Heng warned, trying to sound strict and firm, and Caelus admired his attempts. He would have to remind him later that he started it, but first… He dug his fingers into Dan Heng’s lower side again, wiggling his fingers up and down while he rubbed his palm against his cold skin in some sort of wannabe washing-movement. “N-nononohohho, Cahahaelus!”

He was nearly laying on top of Dan Heng while tickling him, trapping his boyfriend under his own weight while letting his fingers do the dirt - or, better saying, “cleaning” work. “I can’t get my job here done if your hands keep getting in the way, Dan Heng,” Caelus teased, prodding at the spot just below the other’s ribs.

“Yohou a-are not suppohohosed to be dohohoing this!” Dan Heng insisted, did he really think he could argue his way out of this? To appeal to Caelus’ reason and convince him that there was no need for tickles in their bath?

“Right,” Caelus rolled his eyes, his hands stopping and laying flat on top of Dan Heng’s waving chest. “I won’t get you clean like this… where did they leave the brushes-”

“!!!”

Caelus loved that adorable twitch and surprised reaction from Dan Heng when he managed to grab one of the nearby brushes. He could already tell this was going to be good.

“I-I’m seherious, Caelus…” he whispered huskily, his laughter still visible on his face as he gaped at Caelus and tried to reach for one of his hands.

Smirking, Caelus caught Dan Heng’s arm and yanked it to the side so he could drag the brush up and down his armpit. Now that did the cleaning job better, and it didn’t seem to tickle him any less, heh.

“CahAHahaelus!” Dan Heng screeched, his laughter almost going as loud as a dragon’s roar. He kicked his feet behind Caelus, splashing the water and causing ripples to go all around the once peaceful bath.

Working on his ticklish boyfriend, Caelus had long forgotten about the cold temperature of the water. He now only felt warmth. Warmth and pure enjoyment, and his body was still tingling, not because of the tickling earlier, but because of Dan Heng’s sweet pleasant giggles. 

Well, could he really help it? Dan Heng himself started it himself after all. 

Speaking of him, it was only when Dan Heng’s free hand landed on Caelus’ face that the trailblazer snapped back to his senses. The skin under his boyfriend’s skin was starting to look as flushed as his cheeks, but Caelus couldn’t really feel bad for it when his eyes quickly spotted the large, breathless smile on Dan Heng’s face.

“T-thahank you…,” Dan Heng sighed, his chest waving as his lungs tried to work for the lack of air. He looked so beautifully wrecked that Caelus couldn’t help but to blush a bit at the sight.

“You look like you’re about to go into your next incarnation,” Caelus joked, loosing the grip he had around Dan Heng’s arm. “And that was just half of my cleaning serv- pfftt,” he giggled, unable to hold back his reaction was Dan Heng stared at him completely frightened at the idea of going through that again.

“Fine, you can do the rest yourself,” Caelus hummed, tossing the brush over his shoulder and dropping himself on top of Dan Heng, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You were right, Dan Heng…”

“Hm?” Dan Heng arched an eyebrow, hesitating for a moment before resting his body on the bath’s border and wrapping his arms around Caelus’ shoulders, “about what, exactly?”

“A cold bath can be quite comforting… once you get used to the water, I mean.” Caelus smiled, kissing and nuzzling Dan Heng’s cheek. “We should do this more often.”

“Thanks to you, the water isn’t remotely close to ideal, but… yes, let’s make this a habit while we are here.”

[ikeupied]

NOT YOURS — sim jaeyun x fem reader.

how stupid.

When we arrived at the gym, the bleachers were still half-empty. Soobin quickly said goodbye before disappearing into the locker room, leaving Yeji and me to find a good place to sit.

Giselle and Yizhuo were already settled, chatting animatedly, and they waved us over to join them. A few minutes later, Chaeryeong arrived with Sunoo, whom I recognized from a few classes. We weren’t exactly close, but we’d always gotten along well, so conversation flowed naturally.

---

The sharp sound of the referee’s whistle signaled the start of the game, and within seconds, all our attention was on the court.

As team captain, Heeseung looked a little tense at first, analyzing the opposing team’s movements with a furrowed brow. But when Jake scored the first points with a clean, confident play, the energy of the team shifted completely. The pace intensified, and the game quickly turned into a fierce battle, with both teams refusing to give an inch.

The match continued at full intensity, every play keeping the crowd on the edge of their seats. Heeseung, now fully immersed in the game, led the team with precision, while Jake kept adding points effortlessly.

But in a moment of tension, when the opposing team tried to even the score, someone else caught my attention.

Jungwon.

I hadn’t really noticed him before, but now he was completely focused on the court. In the blink of an eye, he stole the ball with impressive speed, dodging a defender before passing it to Jake with surgical precision. Jake scored with ease.

"Did you see that?" Yeji said, amazed.

I just nodded, watching Jungwon as he calmly stepped back, as if he hadn’t done anything extraordinary. But he had. And even though I didn’t know much about him, at that moment, I felt a small spark of admiration.

The sound of the whistle marked the end of the game shortly after, and the players began to disperse.

---

The noise in the gym was slowly fading as most of the spectators left. I remained in my seat, absentmindedly playing with my hands as I waited. Yeji was still beside me, chatting with Chaeryeong and Sunoo, while Giselle and Yizhuo talked among themselves about some moment from the game.

I knew the guys would take a while to come out of the locker room, so I tried to be patient. But when I saw Jake emerge before the others, my attention locked onto him completely.

His hair was still damp from the quick shower he’d probably taken, his sports bag slung over one shoulder. His expression was relaxed, as if the game hadn’t exhausted him at all.

The moment I saw him, my first instinct was to think he was walking toward me.

He didn’t have to, but… he was the one who invited me. Wouldn’t it make sense for him to come say hi? Maybe just a simple "thanks for coming," a comment about the game—something.

I straightened slightly, feeling the beginnings of a small smile—until I realized he wasn’t coming toward me at all.

Because his destination was someone else.

A few feet away, a girl with short brown hair was waiting for him, an easy smile on her face. She was pretty, no doubt. I didn’t recognize her immediately, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was what happened next.

Jake reached her, and with the ease of someone who had done this many times before, he leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t a dramatic or exaggerated kiss. There was no show, no intent to flaunt it. Just a casual, effortless, automatic kiss.

And yet, it felt like a punch to the chest.

My stomach twisted, and the pressure in my throat became unbearable within seconds. I had no right to feel this way. I knew that. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I forced myself to look away, plastering on a hollow smile when Yeji said something I didn’t even process.

The minutes that followed were a blur. I don’t know how I managed to keep my composure until my brother and the others finally came out. But I did.

I made an effort not to react. I didn’t want my friends to notice, didn’t want anyone to ask if I was okay, because I knew that if someone showed me even a little bit of kindness, my mask would shatter. So I kept the conversation going, responded with small laughs and nods, even though every word felt automatic.

But my hands were cold. My chest felt hollow, my throat tight no matter how many times I swallowed. I rubbed my palms against my jeans—anything to distract myself from the heaviness in my chest.

When Yeonjun, Heeseung, and Soobin finally appeared, I focused on them, and we left.

---

The night air was cool when we stepped outside the gym, but I barely felt it.

Giselle, Yizhuo, Chaeryeong, Yeji, and Sunoo said their goodbyes, heading to the post-game party. I had already decided not to go—I wasn’t in the right state of mind for it.

Yeonjun walked beside me, chatting animatedly with Heeseung and Soobin about the game. I nodded from time to time, pretending to listen, pretending to be present.

But my mind was elsewhere.

Still stuck on the image of Jake leaning in to kiss that girl. On how easily he did it. On how, for a moment, I truly believed he was coming toward me.

How stupid.

I swallowed hard, exhaling slowly through my nose.

"Something wrong?" Yeonjun’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I glanced at him and shook my head with a smile I hoped was convincing.

"Nothing. Just tired, that’s all."

Yeonjun watched me for a second longer than necessary, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced, but he didn’t press.

"Come on, we’re almost there."

I nodded, and we kept walking.

I kept walking as if nothing had happened.

As if I didn’t feel like something inside me had just broken a little more.

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note: this is kinda long, I'M SORRY (pls pls pls igore timestamps)

taglist (open): @ghostiiess @yunthejin @strayy-kidz @jaerisdiction @yuyita-rosier @enhamonsterghoul

© all rights reserved to ikeupied, please don't copy.

[nightscythe]

dark sides of the primarchs' relationships

some of these are very dark (esp lorgar, angron, ferrus I guess) but I wanted to represent some of the less enjoyable themes in their relationships. some are kind of obvious, but I wanted to expand a little. again, it's how I write them, so you may not necessarily agree!!

18+ below the cut pls, it's sfw but some themes of death, obsession, etc, mostly pre-heresy

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the lion: struggles to interpret his feelings and often mistakes them as needs - namely, sexual need, but really any physical need. the heavy feeling in his heart because he hasn't seen you for weeks? must be because he had become used to your presence and his body must adapt to being without you. the burning in his chest when someone else dares to speak to you with a more suggestive tone? well, its not jealousy, it is his body telling him he needs you. overtime this would start to go, he would learn to interpret feelings in a more emotional way, but realistically he would need to care enough to want to try in the first place. he would always struggle though, turning every single one of his feelings about love into his duty. you're his responsibility, everyone else is a threat.

fulgrim: whilst it is obvious that his desire for perfection may have an impact on you, it has an equal burden on him. he always doubts himself, always taking a pessimistic view of both himself as a lover and to relationships as a whole. and your reassurance may never be enough, even if you do mean it and he seeks it out. he will always make each gift, each speech, each act of love bigger to meet his own desire to be better. and really? it can become more exhausting than anything. especially if he is always trying to prove himself and it sometimes starts to feel artificial. there would be a breaking point though where he finally realises to you, he is perfect, and there is nothing else he needs to do. but there is always that little, teeny doubt.

perty: trust issues will get to him more than anything. he'd need someone who has so much patience that it wears you down, but ultimately it would be worth it. the worst part is that he wouldn't often share how he feels, he keeps it to himself and sits brewing thoughts in his own head that you may just be like everyone else and not truly care. he'd keep it from you, never uttering a word, silently letting it all fester until it gets too much. and breaking down that wall he builds from his own thoughts would take a lot of time, a lot of effort, and a lot of letting him work things out on his own. that's probably the biggest issue - he has a lot of time, something you may not as easily afford.

the khan: his idea of love is different. in a good way, maybe, but different to others. love for him is choice, and he will not restrict you to it. if you want to leave him, then go. if you want to spend a day without him, then do so. he'd really need someone who can deal with his laid back approach (or more so, his promotion of freedom above all other things) to love. that can be tough. his free spirit may just be too free to some people, and that's just what life is like. don't expect reassurance or speeches of his feelings, they are not happening. he's quick to make his decisions, his conclusions, and he's quick to temper. in the right conditions, this can make a storm. if anything ever goes bad.. good luck.

leman: it flips with him, very sudden, very easily. one day he's so enamoured, so utterly floored by everything you do that he's got massive heart eyes and following you around like a puppy. other times he's in his own world, following his own free spirit, that it can make you feel neglected. all of this just ends up causing more and more anxiety, unknowingly to him, and obviously to you. its all unintentional of course, he loves you so deeply. and his love itself? it's raw. he's so set on being stoic and strong but he is fragile too. he fears the worst, his emotions are never waste. everything he feels he shows directly to you. that can be overwhelming; all of this is overwhelming. especially when you could wake up one day and he's gone to do something without any warning, not evening thinking that you notice.

dorn: he's cold. he's so cold that it burns. or... is that the raging fire inside just reaching through the cracks? words mean nothing to him, and it can be difficult to truly know where you stand. he would never say he loves you, he would make you feel like he didn't ever need you, but should you ever leave? he'd tear the imperium down brick by brick until he had you back with him. it's unknowing to him. a duty. an unspoken loyalty. he doesn't believe in anything being temporary, so you're with him for life now. even if he never says it. and its the fact it's just actions, ones which may not mean anything to you, that makes it so hard. the door he gifted you with a heavy duty lock may be strange to you, but you did tell him you were worried about someone breaking in...

curze: does not feel he can be loved. he thinks he deserves it, but he never thinks anyone would dare. he thinks any affection shown to his is out of selfish fear and the second an opportunity presents itself, that love and affection would be gone. so he worries. he worries you are just like everyone else. makes assumptions, accusations, tells you that he thinks you're lying. probably because in the past he felt he should be loved and forced it out of people. he never once stops to think that maybe you lay beside him, you hold his hand, you take care of him, because you want to. it doesn't make sense to him, not without proof, or time, or anything to support your case. he'd get it eventually, he'd stop spending nights awake convinced you'll leave him when you sleep peacefully beside him with no intention of going.

sanguinius: his foresight is a burden, knowing what will happen to him means his guards are up. he would always be devoted, and he would carry the burden of fate to know he had shown you love in a way that mattered. but the sleepless nights would come, knowing the heartbreak would follow. especially at first, he'd try so hard, he'd want to protect others, you, from the fallout of fate. he'd never wanted you to see him in a way as more than a guardian, protector even, but it was inevitable. especially being who he is. and he would keep it to himself, and it would eat him up inside. he'd want to give you an easier way out, a ending where his death was the lesser of two evils, but he could never bring himself to leave. not before fate forced his hand.

ferrus: he has to make you better. you though fulgrim was obsessed with perfection? imagine that, but reversed, and intensified by a thousand. ferrus can make you better. he can make you stronger, he can make you everything you ever wanted. and over time, as he improves you, makes you need to know that he's impressed with you, it changes you. he's unrelenting. and it's not that he doesn't love you. oh, he loves you so so much. but there's a part of him that thinks his encouragement, his desire for your perfection, it helps you. together you can be the perfect couple, but not because of beauty or looks. then it feels like you're a project to him, little more than a toy for him to work on each and every day. and he'd let you go. he'd give you the choice, be free of him, but you'd hesitate. could you ever really be without him again?

angron: he only knows war. pain. death. love is so... small to him. he doesn't understand how to be gentle, how to replicate the love some of his brothers will. but he doesn't want to hurt you, either. and it shows. he will not hurt you, he will not make you feel pain, but he would die for you. and would you die for him? well. if you wouldn't, he would make you. love for him is a reflection of the strongest emotions he feels. the words he associates with it are different. violence. he'd kill anyone who stood between you. desperation. it's a feeling he can't describe as anything other than need. consuming. it grinds on him, wears him down, until he treats it the exact same way as everything else he feels. you're his, and you will become a part of him, whether you want to or not.

rob: it should be easy to him, but its not, and that makes him feel worse. he's not stupid, he can process love and emotion. yet... why does it feel so hard? he always feels like he is doing something wrong, always expression too little in case he reveals too much, whilst always trying to make up for something he fumbled already. its a vicious cycle. the reality of the situation is he's torn in every direction, he's needed by so many people, that he doesn't have time for love. yet he would fight to the very end of time to show it to you. and it exhausts him to no end. he'd just need a little patience, he'd very much enjoy if instead of something require brain or body power, he could just rest with you in his arms, enjoy the peace, but when that's every single evening, it could become a little hard

morty: he carries around a lot of anger and it's not always easy to hide. like a bitter old woman who sneers at kids for stepping on her lawn, but deep down she has a heart bigger than anyone - she just doesn't like it when he things are messed up. probably a bad analogy. the smallest things annoy him and he's got a quick temper. he constantly has to remind himself to check his own feelings, assess if he's reacting appropriately, then actually respond. so sometimes, it can feel artificial, like it's a brave face he puts on, and eventually you'll just want to know the real him. and you can, but it may not be as easily heard or understood. with time he would get better, he'd balance his emotions with your help, but until then it may never feel 100% real.

magnus: the poor guy, he just doesn't think (how obvious, I know). his actions are well intended but the way he comes across is a mixed bag. you're proud of something you've done or learned and in the spirit of sharing your achievement he does it in one try... or he tells you a more advance version of a spell with the intention of helping you but... it just comes across as him belittling you. like you were never good enough for him, that he is so so much better than you and his standard is so far above you. in reality, he's just happy, he's sharing those things because he thinks it will help you. he's worried that he's not good enough for you. he feels like he has to prove himself, to show you just everything he's capable of, elevate the two of you, together. aww :(

horus: he knows about his charisma. like a beacon that sits on his head and forces everyone to like him. and that makes him question the reality of everyone around him. are you nice to him because he's Horus, or because you want to be nice to him? are you kissing him because he's Horus, or because you want to kiss him? it's a guessing game that he is losing. he truly believes that those closest to him do not care, and overtime he has developed trust issues beyond saving. he'd never show it though, but inside everything can feel like a lie. he'd have a way to work it out though - he's not stupid - but his way is long and extended, tests and games which may not be appreciated, and it may feel like you need to prove to him why you care about him. was your love not enough? it was. but he just needed to know it wasn't manufactured by that damn beacon.

lorgar: love... its something different for him. it's not love. it's reverence. you become everything to him, his faith, his truth, his gospel. you become divine to him in every way, perfection incarnate, holy as the gods around him. and for that reason, it is all written in fate for him. you are meant to be with him, you are meant to stand by his side. he would build temples in your name, he would burn planets to the ground if it meant you were happy. he would destroy worlds to bring you what you wanted. but, if you are unhappy with that? if you do not accept his love and devotion? that's heresy. that's denying the truth. and escaping him, it can only come through death. his one is quite dark, i'm very sorry about that. unless you like it, then happy to help.

vulkan: he wouldn't have many faults, aside from obvious primarch things, but I think he's full of worry. not insecurity, but concern, always worried about you, always thinking he may hurt you, worried that the feats he puts himself through may have an unnecessary effect on you. he knows that he puts himself in danger but he can't stop himself, he know your concern that maybe just one time, he won't come back - but he will still test the limits anyway. he'd never show you every part of him, afraid it may just be too much for you, and though he's never hiding anything sinister, he'd always be hiding something. and you know it. and he'd smile, assuring you its nothing. it's literally just something like he's never tried kissing you in a certain way in case he hurts you. or he was wounded fatally again but he's okay. probably better if he just tells you... but secrets in the name of happiness, I guess.

corax: sometimes he goes, for days. for weeks, months even. some may even question whether you've just made it up in your own head. it's not that he doesn't care, or he doesn't love you, but... he got lost in his own head. what he needed to do. and it doesn't help that when you are together, he's cold, he's reserved, and its like you've never even met before sometimes. he can handle all of this, he's secure in his feelings and is loyal to you beyond anyone else, but can you? it's not that he would abandon you, or betray you, but when you've waited for him to come him for months and there's still no sign of him, your thoughts may start to go somewhere less pleasant. you can ask him to stop, but it's never permanent, even when he's fully opened to you emotionally - he'd unintentionally fill you with doubt.

alpharius: oh its a bit of a mindfuck. one loves you, one doesn't. one whispers sweetly in your ear, one just whispers. one touches your shoulder and catches the tips of his fingers on the curve of your neck, the other one just touches your shoulder. it's little things. barely noticeable at first. something the everyday person would have just shrugged off. but after time, you do notice. that's not Alpharius. and it makes you mad. to think he sent someone else in his place? he had to, and you'd never understand, but he hates it as much as you. do you know how badly he wants it to be him that is with you each day? how insulting it is to know that he was sharing you? it drives him to the brink of insanity. it's truly the worst feeling in the world. but there's nothing you can do about it, and you'll have to live with knowing that maybe the man next to you isn't the alpharius you love.

˗ˏˋ 𓅰 ˎˊ˗

[ragnarockz]

9, 38, 42, 88 :)

9. “if you stop, i’ll stop”

38. “you make me so wet”

42. “please don’t think i’m weird for this”

88. “that looks too big”

🥰💜

"That looks too big..."

Vidal whispered as she grabbed Agnes' bicep a little harder, trying to stifle a laugh. Agnes whistled in response, in agreement. She picked up the box hanging from the shelf and checked the measurements of the silicone toy. She shot a sideways glance at Vidal, making a screwed up face that made Vidal laugh out loud.

"Yeah...you're right...I mean, unless you're into it...please don't think I'm weird for this but, if you think you can handle it...we can get it; try it out?"

Agnes kept her voice down, as if the cashier hadn't heard it all already. The Agent and the Detective found themselves on a Friday night at one of Eastview's stag shops. It was actually Agnes' idea; something that surprised Vidal. The detective was coming out of her shell a little more, taking baby steps towards being more comfortable, more open. She drove them over to Eastview with the location set in mind. Holding Vidal's hand, the two of them entered the store.

Now, they were down another aisle, giggling like two school girls. Maybe it was the drinks they had at dinner before coming here or, the quick yet messy make out session in the car. Vidal was basically sitting in Agnes lap in the drivers seat; her hand pushed down into Agnes' pants. She had come twice onto Vidal's fingers; the thrill of possibly being caught turned her on. And now, they were laughing over the various sizes of the silicone toys all around them.

Vidal suddenly snatched the box out of Agnes' hand, shooting her partner a quick smile as she took off down the aisle, making Agnes chase her down. She reached the checkout before Agnes could even round the corner; credit card out before Agnes could even be in arms length of Vidal. By the time she got there, the cashier was handing Vidal the receipt and wishing her a 'good night'. Vidal flashed Agnes another sneaky smile, good night was right, she thought.

Agnes held onto the sleeve cuff of Vidal's jacket, following the agent out of the store with her new prized possession. She didn't even get a word in before they reached the car; Vidal digging into the bag and pulling the box out.

"I didn't think you were actually going to get it..."

Agnes announced as she unlocked the car doors for them, opening Vidal's to let her in. She wasn't even paying attention, too busy trying to rip the box open. She had one leg in the car, half squatted as she used her fingertips to peel away the cardboard. Agnes watched her curiously, a half smile on her face.

"Vidal? Hello? What the fuck are you doing? Do you really need to look at it right now?"

Vidal ignored her, finally getting into her seat and closing the door shut behind her. Agnes shook her head, walked over to the drivers side and got in.

"Vidal, what the fuck-"

And her eyes drifted down to Vidal's lap and realized why she was so anxious to get the box open. She had pulled her pants down just far enough for Agnes to see that she had been wearing her harness this entire time with no toy set inside. She threaded the new, much bigger toy through the ring and smiled to herself in pride. Agnes stifled back a moan; her body finally catching up with her mind.

"Good thing there's only parking in the back here, huh? You wanna do me a favor, Daddy? You wanna suck Mommy's cock?"

Agnes felt like there was a rod of hot metal pushed through her chest at Vidal's words. This time, she did let out her moan. She could never understand how Vidal made everything sound so fucking dirty yet innocent when she used that bratty little voice of hers. It drove Agnes wild and she knew that Vidal knew it too. Knew that when she used this tone, Agnes was going to fold, and fold, she did.

Agnes moved herself around, got herself as comfortable as she could to lean herself over towards Vidal's lap. Her mouth made contact with the tip of the toy and realized, in that second, just what she had gotten herself into. It was much bigger than what they were using, what they were used to. She hesitated just for a second, realizing then that Vidal flipped the tables on her. Again. She was going to be the one to see if she could "handle" the toy; not Vidal. Agnes moaned again at the thought, knowing Vidal was smiling above her.

"If you stop, I stop. Ok, Baby?"

Agnes didn't nod or shake her head. What the hell was Vidal talking about? She kept her lips around the head of the toy, sucking slightly, unsure of what was to come.

Agnes felt Vidal's hand come down, grabbing Agnes'. She allowed the agent to do whatever it was she was planning; her arm and hand going limp for her to control. Vidal brought Agnes' hand just below the harness, just below the base of the toy. Her fingers felt what Vidal brought them too and another moan left her, onto the silicone in her mouth.

She was wearing fucking crotch-less underwear and she didn't even know, hadn't even realized it; even though they fucked around earlier already. Agnes chalked it up to her habit of just pushing Vidal's underwear to the side; familiarity making her accustomed to what she was used to.

Agnes knew what she had to do in that moment. Vidal was asking for both her mouth and fingers and like the good girl she was, Agnes complied. Her mouth was working Vidal's cock, fingers working inside and out of her pussy. The agent pushed her head back into the headrest, closing her eyes and allowing herself to feel everything she had started.

"You make me so wet...I'm sure you can feel it...all over your fingers..."

Vidal was breathing heavily, her words coming out in long, low strands. If you stop, I stop rang through Agnes' head and in that moment she realized she wouldn't dare. Not now, especially when she felt the agents hand come down and grab hold of the base of her ponytail, keeping her situated between her legs twofold.

[ethernitty]

rewatching things and i forgot how much i liked this guy

[egophiliac]

Have you heard of the "Crowley is Malleus' dad" theory going around? Where Prince Levan (or whatever his name is) didn't actually die and just went out to get some milk and is now known as Dire Crowley, the silly man? The implications of that theory is absolutely hilarious when you think about it

hold on, we can figure this out, we just need LISTS

PROS THAT CROWLEY IS SECRETLY REVAAN/LEVAN/LAVERNE/WHATEVER:

unspecified fae of some kind, with similar coloring to Mal

the animal masks are apparently a Briar Valley thing

has some kind of big blackmailable secret that was alluded to in episode 4, and then as far as I know never brought up again

(unless this was just Azul bullshitting, which is extremely possible)

based on Diablo, which...maybe means something?

has canonically worn Dad Shorts

CONS:

(gestures to Crowley's entire personality)

NO LISTEN Revaan was the guy they sent off on diplomatic missions and to take care of delicate political situations, and...look, I love this dweeb, but would you trust Crowley to be in charge of negotiating your war treaties

despite my brain insisting on reading his name as "Raven", Revaan's title does imply that he was also a dragon (or super into longan berries, I'm not ruling that out)

currently unclear why Lilia "my closest friend Revaan...he is no longer with us...I used to make fun of him for being kind of a priss about eating jerky..." Vanrouge has somehow not noticed or said anything

Malleus' Aloof Anime ~Aristocrat~ vibe had to come from somewhere, and by all accounts it was NOT his mom's side of the family

???:

turns into a bird in the opening, I don't know if that means anything but it's kinda cool, I guess

all that aside, if Malleus and Yuu are any indication, then the Draconias have...questionable taste in their social choices. so anything is possible!