#fucking day and i got!! no warning!! that anyone would be coming over let alone 10+ people and one more guy bringing another case of beer

[mashmouths]

i fucking hate straight people and i need them out of my house

[dancewithdeath11]

Keep It Down

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Trying to not wake anyone up while staying over for the holidays…

Warnings: Intense feels, trying to stay quiet, hand over mouth, Smut 18+, literally just pp in vv moment, petnames (Ma (ofc, this is Jaybird we’re talkin’ about), baby), crying but…in the hot way?, obsessed with this concept ngl. Yes, I got lazy at the end, don’t judge.. :(

Word count: 1k

======

It was all quiet pants and silent tears. 

The holidays had rolled around and the two of you were staying at Wayne Manor for the week. A classic Gotham storm raged outside, snow gently falling as lightning flashed through the closed curtains of Jason’s room. Thunder shook the house, momentarily deafening what was happening. 

You and Jason were always recklessly in love. So, no wonder you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves for more than a day. The only problem was volume. And shit, could Jason make you lose your voice moaning and crying out his name. On the other hand, it would be sucky to be caught by one of his brothers, let alone Alfred or Bruce… 

“Gotta stay quiet, baby.. Can you do that for me?” Was what he murmured in your ear before you got started. 

He was slow, loving with his slow but deep thrusts. His dick hitting that spot within you that made your back arch and nails drag down his back, leaving angry red streaks in their wake. Fuck, he knew how to make your head spin. 

Tears streaked down your cheeks, shallow breaths leaving your parted lips. Jason ate it up, kissing and nipping along your neck. Tasting your skin and groaning into your neck to keep his own noises to a minimum. Calloused hands gripping your thighs to haul them up around his waist to get a better angle. The whine you let out was quickly muffled by his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss. “Shhh.. I know, ma, I know..” He mumbled against your mouth. 

As he had your lips captured, his hands moved up. Pulling you up into an arch by your waist before wrapping his arms around. Shoving his arms between you and the bed. Chest to chest, arms hugging your middle like he was scared you’d slip away. When he finally pulled away to breathe, his forehead dropped to your shoulder. Hot breath fanning across your skin making a shiver run up your spine. 

“Oh shit…” You breathed, hand coming up to drag through his dark hair. Gripping with shaky fingers, lightly tugging, making Jason practically growl into your skin. Brows pinched in pleasure as tears fell back into your hairline. Every roll of his hips takes your breath away and makes you tremble. His fingers dug into your back as he squeezed you tighter. 

Fire.. that's what you felt. Crawling beneath your skin, licking at your core making your stomach flip. Pushing you closer and closer to your high with every thrust, sharp breath, and moan. Trying to keep quiet. Desperately. But it was so difficult with how overwhelming it was. The thrill of accidentally being too loud. Passionate tenderness that made your head spin and tears prick your eyes. In a vulnerable state of intense pleasure and connection. All while your loving boyfriend whispered sweet nothings into your skin. “That’s it, ma..I’ve got you.. Just let go, I’ve got you..” 

Flushed and blissed out, your head pressed back to the pillows. Whimpering an, “Oh my god..” into the darkness of the room. Maybe a little too loud than you should’ve… 

Jason was quick to remedy your loss of volume control. His hand coming up to cover your mouth, his other arm still securely holding you to him. While he loved how wrecked you sounded, he didn’t want to get caught..You breathed harshly through your nose as you let out a ragged moan that got muffled by his palm. “Baby, baby.. Gotta keep it down..” He murmured, voice laced with desire.

Despite his words, he picked up the pace a little, rocking against you with more intensity. Hitting harder, somehow it felt deeper too. Eyes squeezed shut as you tried to focus on your pleasure and keep your moans down. 

Pressing closer, practically suffocating you with his weight. Draping himself over you like a protective blanket made up of over two hundred pounds of muscle. His hand left your mouth to grip the pillow next to your head. His head dropping once more, groaning right into your ear. “C’mon, ma..” You were so close…

You choked and pressed your face to his neck. Letting out a strangle moan you muffle against his skin. Finally reaching that peak. It wasn’t fast and strong like it usually would be. The kind that would have you moaning shamelessly and crying out his name. No.. This twisted your spine and burned through your veins. Making you choke on your own air and hold your breath. Crashing over your body like waves on an ocean shore. Tensing as you gripped him where you could. Pawing desperately at his skin for purchase as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. 

Then you let out a sob of raw pleasure, still muffled against his skin. Shaking as you rode out your high. Thighs trembling around his waist as your body pulsed with the aftershocks. He slowed down for a moment, cooing softly in your ear and pressing kisses to your tear-stained cheeks as he helped you ride out your orgasm. 

When you finally calmed down enough, he took your chin in hand, “Yeah..?” He mumbled to you. Seeking permission, seeing if he could be selfish now. Chase his pleasure. All you could do was tighten your legs around his waist again and nod weakly. Arms pulling him closer once more. “Yeah..” He quickly sought out your lips, locking you in a deep and needy kiss as he picked up the pace again. 

Panting and pressing as deep as he could. His groans went straight into your mouth as he chased his release. He wasn’t far behind. His hips stuttered before he let out a strangled moan, “Baby..” he grumbled against your lips. Giving a few short thrusts as he finished. Jason finally broke the kiss with a heavy sigh. A string of saliva connected you still before he licked his lips. “Fuck, you did so good for me..” He praised softly as he caressed your cheek. Thumbs wiping away the tears. 

“Fuck yeah, I did..” You gave a tired smirk. He paused before he gave a slow smirk of his own. 

“As if, you were loud as hell.”

“Shut up…”

[connorsui]

Behind Closed Doors

Prohero Katsuki x reader

Genre/Warnings: Domestic Fluff, soft moments, slight emotional variability for katsuki, katsukis attitude

Synopsis: —his love for you is hidden in the small, everyday acts of affection.

Note: I like to imagine katsuki becoming a completely different person when he's left alone with you 🍒

w.c: 2,211

The difference in Katsuki’s behavior always caught you off guard, no matter how long you’d been together. In public, he stormed through crowds with an intensity that left everyone around him on edge. His voice would rise above the noise, sharp and commanding, as he ordered others around or shut down any attempt at small talk with a single glare. He hated being slowed down and hated when people got in his way. But when his gaze flickered to you, just for a moment, there was something else—something quieter, softer, that only you could see.

It wasn’t that Katsuki toned it down in public—not by a long shot—but there was a certain way he carried himself when you were beside him. As if you were the exception to the rule, the one person he didn’t mind sticking around. Even when surrounded by fans or reporters, his body would instinctively angle toward you, a subtle shield between you and the world. His touch was always firm, but never rough, as though he was unconsciously protecting the one part of his life he wanted to keep safe from the chaos.

One night, after a particularly long day, Katsuki came home more irritable than usual. You heard it the moment the door slammed shut, his heavy boots stomping across the floor. He tossed his keys onto the counter with a sharp clink, his jaw tight, and his scowl deeper than normal.

“—fucking idiots…” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. “Can’t even do their damn jobs, right”

You watched him from the couch, knowing better than to approach him immediately when he was like this. Katsuki needed time to cool down to let the frustration simmer until it dulled. Still, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. He was all bark out there, terrifying to anyone who crossed his path, but you knew that in just a few minutes, he’d come over, sit next to you, and let out that sigh—the one that meant he was done being a hero for the day.

And, just as expected, he did. After a few moments of grumbling to himself, Katsuki crossed the room and dropped down beside you with a huff, his head falling back against the couch cushions. You didn’t say anything, just reached out and placed your hand on his thigh, grounding him with a simple touch. His shoulders relaxed almost instantly, the tension melting away as he exhaled deeply.

“Rough day, huh?” you asked quietly, giving his leg a gentle squeeze.

“Tch. Yeah.” He closed his eyes, one hand covering his face. “Just sick of dealin’ with everybody out there all day.”

There was a pause, the room settling into a comfortable silence before he added, his voice quieter, almost sheepish, “Missed you…”

It was in those moments you realized how much he relied on you to recharge. He wasn’t the type to come home and fall apart, but there was a vulnerability in the way he leaned into you, even when he tried to play it off. Katsuki didn’t need grand gestures or declarations; he showed his love in the way he let his guard down when it was just the two of you.

Later that night, after you both settled into bed, Katsuki turned toward you, his movements slower, more deliberate as the day’s tension ebbed away. Without a word, he tugged you into his chest, his strong arm wrapping securely around your waist, pulling you close. The heat of his body seeped into yours, and the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat thudded softly beneath your ear. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm as it brushed against your skin, sending a wave of comfort through you.

His grip was firm, possessive, but tender, as if holding you was the only thing keeping him grounded. For a long moment, he said nothing, just breathed you in, his hand tracing lazy circles on your lower back. Then, with quiet vulnerability, Katsuki’s voice rumbled softly against your neck, thick with the weight of sleep and affection he rarely voiced.

“Can’t stand anyone else… but you,” he mumbled, his lips brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “But with you… everything feels right.”

The words were so soft they could’ve easily been lost to the night, but in the quiet of your room, they wrapped around you like a warm blanket. Your heart swelled, warmth spreading through your chest at the rare, intimate admission. Turning in his arms, you pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth. Katsuki’s hold tightened instantly, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, as if the simple act of being this close wasn’t enough.

He exhaled deeply, the last of his tension melting away as he pulled you impossibly closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he murmured, his voice softer now, a whispered promise in the quiet. "Not without me."

In that moment, there was no one else in the world but the two of you—wrapped up in each other, his love woven into every touch, every breath, every heartbeat.

It was in these moments, when the world outside faded away and it was just the two of you tangled in the sheets, that you truly understood how much Katsuki cared. How deeply he loved, even if he didn’t always say it out loud. You saw it in the way he relaxed when you were near, the way his fiery temper cooled into something soft and unguarded, a side of him no one else ever got to see.

Katsuki might hate the world—hell, he made no secret of how unbearable he found most people—but when it came to you, it was different. You were the calm in his storm, the quiet he sought after the chaos of hero work. And in return, he gave you a side of himself no one else would ever know. That alone was enough to show you just how much he cherished you.

The next morning, you woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Katsuki moving around the kitchen. When you padded out, rubbing sleep from your eyes, you found him already dressed in his hero uniform, his back to you as he flipped something in a pan.

“You’re up early,” you remarked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, well,” he grunted, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “Figured I’d make you breakfast before I head out. Can’t have you starvin’ while I’m out dealin’ with idiots, can I?”

You laughed, moving over to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek to his broad back. “I love you, Katsuki.”

“Tch… love you too,” he muttered, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

The warmth of Katsuki’s back against your cheek, combined with the rich smell of breakfast, made you want to stay wrapped around him for the rest of the morning. You lingered there for a moment longer, savoring the rare quiet before he had to face the demands of the day.

He turned off the burner with a sharp flick of his wrist, then nudged you gently with his elbow, his tone playfully gruff. “Go sit down, idiot. I made all this for you, not so you could just stand around and get in the way.”

You smiled at the familiar edge to his words, knowing the affection that lay underneath. “Okay, okay,” you teased, stepping back and heading to the table. As you sat down, Katsuki brought over a plate piled with perfectly golden toast, eggs cooked just the way you liked them, and a small portion of your favorite fruit. The meal was simple, but you could feel the care in every detail.

He placed the plate in front of you, then leaned down, brushing a quick kiss to the top of your head before heading back to the kitchen to grab his own breakfast. “Eat up,” he said over his shoulder, his voice softer than before.

You dug in, and the taste of the food, combined with Katsuki’s quiet gestures of love, made your chest feel full. It wasn’t grand or elaborate, but that was what made it so special—the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, sharing something as simple as breakfast.

As Katsuki sat down across from you, he kept glancing up from his plate, watching you eat with a soft expression that only you ever got to see. He didn’t say much, just occasionally asked if you needed more coffee or wanted another piece of toast. There was a contentment in the air, one that spoke of a love that didn’t need constant words to be understood.

When the meal was finished, you stood to clear the table, but Katsuki stopped you with a firm hand on your wrist. “I got it,” he grumbled, already starting to collect the dishes.

You tilted your head at him, a smile playing at your lips. “You’re spoiling me today, Katsuki.”

“Tch. Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, though there was a teasing glint in his eye. “Just thought I’d do somethin’ nice before I head out and have to deal with all those extras.”

His words made you laugh, and the sound seemed to soften the lines of his face even more. Katsuki wasn’t a man of many words when it came to expressing his feelings, but in moments like these, you didn’t need them. The way he made breakfast, the way he took care of the dishes, and the way he kept checking in on you—it was all Katsuki’s way of showing how much he cared.

When he was done cleaning up, he grabbed his hero jacket from the back of a chair and shrugged it on, his movements fluid and practiced. You walked over to him, your hands naturally finding their place on his chest as you helped him adjust the collar. He looked down at you, eyes soft despite the serious set of his mouth.

“Be careful out there, okay?” you murmured, your fingers lingering on the fabric of his jacket.

Katsuki huffed, but you could hear the affection in his voice. “I’m always careful, idiot. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips, slow and lingering, and for a moment, Katsuki’s hand came up to cup your cheek, holding you in place just a little longer. When you pulled away, his red eyes were dark with something you couldn’t quite name, but you could feel the weight of his affection in that look.

“Get some rest today,” he said, his voice low and serious now. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You nodded, watching as he stepped back and adjusted his gloves, his usual sharp, determined expression settling back in place. But before he opened the door, he turned back one last time, that softer version of him peeking through once again.

“Love you,” he said, and it was quiet—so quiet you almost missed it. But it was there, and that was enough.

“I love you too, Katsuki,” you whispered, your heart swelling as you watched him leave, already looking forward to the moment when he’d come back and the world would quiet down again, just for the two of you.

The hours passed slowly after Katsuki left. You tried to keep busy, flipping through a book or scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, but your mind kept wandering back to him. It was always like this when he was out on patrol. You trusted him more than anything, knew he was one of the strongest heroes out there, but that didn’t stop the small flutter of worry from creeping in now and then.

It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed with a message from him.

"On my way back. Be there in 20. Don’t start dinner without me"

You smiled at the screen, already feeling the familiar warmth in your chest. Katsuki was always direct, even in his texts, but the fact that he let you know he was coming home—that he was thinking of you—made your heart skip a beat.

When he finally walked through the door, there was none of the usual tension from his long day. He dropped his bag by the door and kicked off his boots, heading straight for you without a word. You barely had time to set down the book you’d been reading before his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug that left no room for anything but the two of you.

“Missed you,” he murmured against your hair, his voice quiet but full of that raw, unspoken affection you had come to know so well.

“I missed you too,” you replied, your arms wrapping around his neck as you leaned into him, letting the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek wash away the last traces of the day.

And just like that, the world outside faded away, leaving only the quiet warmth of Katsuki’s presence and the simple, steady rhythm of your life together.

Gimmie soft pro bakugo ..I guarantee this man would treat you with respect u deserve

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Try Me

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: suggestive

"Lan, c'mon..please don't go." You whined tightening your grip on Lando's shirt. "Stay with me"

"Baby, I want to, believe me, I do, but I told you I promised your brother to go out with him tonight. Why don't you come along with us?" He asked holding your cheeks between his hands and leaving a kiss on the tip of your nose.

"Because I want to spend some time alone with you. Why can't he go out with Charles or anyone else?"

"Charles is not feeling well, and besides, it will be suspicious if I turn him down for the second time today." He explained trying to get some sense into you, but you just decided to be a brat today because, well, you just felt like it. You wanted his attention. You needed his attention.

"Fine. Go with him then. I don't care." You pouted crossing your arms and turning your gaze away from him.

"Y/n.." He sighed turning your chin with his finger making you look at him. "I'm trying my best to spend as much time as possible with you here. If Carlos knew I spent the whole day with his sister in her hotel room I'd probably be a dead man right now. So if you want me alive, you gotta let me go now okay?"

Everything Lando said made sense. It's true that Carlos would haunt Lando for the rest of his life if he knew that he had been seeing his 5 years younger sister for over 6 months now. It's also true that Lando is a bit torn between the two of you. He doesn't want any trouble with his best friend, but he also doesn't want to even think about having to stop seeing you.

Lando and you were not in a relationship, well, not officially, you didn't call it a relationship because you were forbidden to him. You had been seeing each other for half a year and both of you knew that there was something more between you, more than just sex although you never put a label on it. The more time passed the more you liked each other and wanted to spend more time together so it got harder to keep it a secret.

"Give me a kiss" He said leaning down to your lips. You hesitate for a second, but give in rolling your eyes which Lando doesn't take very well. "No, no, don't do that."

You ignore him and head towards the bathroom not wanting to wait until he leaves your room. You just wanted to show your dissatisfaction with all your might.

"I'll talk to you later okay?"

"Whatever" You muttered before slamming the bathroom door shut.

Later that night, Lando was texting you just to check up on you, to see what you're doing, to see how you're spending your time without him and you decided to continue being a brat for the rest of the night. Because you just felt like it today.

'Just took a shower. Think I'm gonna go check up on Charles since he's not feeling well'

You replied smirking knowing that you mentioning Charles would completely push his buttons with you tonight. Ever since Carlos introduced you to them, both Charles and Lando have been trying to flirt with you. Only Charles has been doing it directly and Lando was more subtle with it. Lando was always more mysterious about it, that's probably the reason why you were attracted to him and not Charles.

So ever since he got his eyes on you, he hated that Charles was trying to get your attention. He hated that he was still doing it and yet he couldn't do anything about it because you two were a well kept secret.

'Oh really? Carlos and I saw him. He's just fine so you don't have to do that.'

He was replying back to your messages within seconds. You knew he was going crazy about it.

'Well, I'm gonna go check anyway'

Of course you weren't gonna go. You were all ready for bed, but since you didn't get what you wanted tonight, you decided to play with his head a little.

'Y/n..You have nothing to look for in his room'

'I mean it's not like I have a boyfriend if you really think about it. So..I don't think it would be inappropriate, no? '

'I can hear the attitude through the text. Fix it, before I fuck it out of you.'

His text sent shivers through your body. You threw your head back against your pillow sighing and reminiscing the way this morning the bed was squeaking beneath you two.

'I don't think you're gonna do anything about it'

'Oh, try me then'

[redhead1180]

Sunshine

Pairing - dark!Rafe x pogue fem!reader

Summary - Reader has a crush on JJ, but JJ is dating Kie. Rafe decides he wants reader to get over JJ, no matter her say in the matter.

Words - 3k

Warnings MDNI - NON CON, DUB CON, drugging with E, slapping, physical fight (m vs f), dry humping, alcohol use, drug use, rough sex (p in v), degradation, blackmail, very dark Rafe.

A/N: This is my darkest piece I have ever wrote and of course it's for Rafe. He is mean SOB in this, so if that triggers you, please don't read. Thank you to @haven247 for the beta read. I am nervous about writing this dark, but hope you like it. PLEASE HEAD THE WARNINGS!

Being at a kook party was not your idea of fun, but they had free booze and it was better than a keggar. After the last week you’ve had, you have every intention of getting plastered and trying to forget your crush and best friend was dating someone else.

JJ your best friend since you were 4 and crush since you were 14, was officially dating Kie. And it hurt, a lot. You knew it was coming, saw the writing on the wall, but held out hope it wouldn’t. The only person who knew about the crush, that you knew of, was John B. He was your brother from another mother, and knew you inside and out. You three had been friends so long, you don’t remember a time when they weren’t there. John B has given you hug and told you he was sorry the day you saw them kissing through the Chateau window. He informed you they were dating and you had gone home and cried yourself to sleep. Avoiding them this past week, but couldn’t get around it for this party.

You had watched them dance, laugh, and make out, and were completely ready to vomit. Or wait, was they alcohol? I was in my 3rd concoction of the night and was not feeling much of anything. Well physically anyway.

Anyway, you were in the kitchen getting another drink, when you heard the last voice, you wanted to here.

“Well, well if it isn’t Miss Sunshine” Rafe Cameron sneered as he walked into the kitchen.

“Fuck off, Cameron” I told him, trying not to say more and start something.

“Anyone ever told you have a venomous mouth, Sunshine” he laughed.

“Only to you, Cameron. Everyone else thinks I am adorable and sweet” my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I bet you taste sweet” he chuckled. I turned around and caught him looking me up and down. He showed no shame for being caught. “What’s got you drowning in booze tonight? Wouldn’t have anything to do with Maybank and Carrera doing the horizontal mambo, would it?”

“You’re such an asshole, Cameron” You go to walk past him and he grabs your upper arm and pulls close to him.

“Most girls that talk to me the way you do get punished” he leered, inches from my face.

So, side note, when I drink, I think I am ten feet tall and bulletproof. And tonight was no exception.

“Let go of me you fucking psycho!” I hissed at him, pulling my arm. Unfortunately, he was so much stronger than me, my arm barely moved in his grasp. “I swear to God Rafe, I am not in the mood for your bullshit tonight.”

“Don’t call me psycho and I think I need to teach you some manners.” he growled right before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in to kiss him.

I instantly started pushing on him and struggling to get free. I bit his lip and he howled in pain and jerked back. I slapped him across the face, not caring this was Rafe Cameron, Kook Prince himself, and no one ever told him no.

He snapped his head back and I looked in his eyes. They were completely black, no amount of blue left, and had a predatory look that actually caused a little fear to creep up my spine. Something else, God help me, arousal shot through to my core and made me soak my panties.

I started to back away and with each step I took back, he took forward.

“Rafe just fucking walk away, leave me alone” I try to sound defiant and flippant, but not sure I pulled it off. His grin was pure evil, reminding me of every Disney villain I ever watched.

*Oh Sunshine, you really shouldn’t have done that” he smirked. I turn to run and get one of the pogues, but he grabs me by my waist and turns me around to throw me over his shoulder.

“You psychotic motherfucker, put me down!” I yell as I punch his back as hard as I can. He just grunts and slaps my ass hard, bringing tears to my eyes and more arousal to leak out of me. My mind was telling me to fight because you hate him, but my body was yelling at me to let him have his way.

He takes you to some room, locks the door, and proceeds to throw you on the bed. He immediately grabs both your wrists and roughly jerks them above your head, causing you to arch your back from the roughness and your tits rub against his chest. The lace bra you wear offered little protection from the friction and instantly your nipples hardened. Rafe chuckles as his free hand rubs over my breasts and pinches my nipples.

“You may not want this, but your body does” he chuckles as his hand slides down over my stomach and to the waistband of my shorts. I continue to struggle, he slaps my bare thigh, causing me to gasp. I know if I looked down right now, there would be a red hand print.

“You’re a feisty thing, maybe we should get you a little more pliant.” He threatens.

I see him reach in the pocket of his shorts, but don’t see anything in his hand when he pulls it out.

“Rafe, what the fuck are you doing?” I demand trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

“Just a little something to make you enjoy it more.” He smirks as he places a pill on his tongue and grabs my jaw to look at him.

“Open up, Sunshine” he murmurs as leans in to kiss me.

I try to shut my mouth, but the hold he has on my jaw won’t let me. He shoves his tongue in my mouth and I feel the pill begin to dissolve as he devours my mouth. God he is a good kisser, I can’t stop myself as I whine in the kiss, causing him to moan. He held my jaw until the pill was fully dissolved, then he lets go, but we continued to kiss. Fuck, what was I doing, this was Rafe, I should be biting his fucking tongue off, yet I didn’t want the kiss to stop. He finally pulls away when air became a necessity.

“What the fuck did you give me, Rafe?” I pant, still trying to catch my breath from the kiss.

“Aww Sunshine, it’s just a little E to make you forget your troubles and help me fuck you without the feistiness.” He smiles down at me. I start to struggle again and hurt him in some fashion. His hold on my wrists and him between my legs really left me defenseless, and he knew it.

“Now let’s get rid of these clothes.” He grabs the neckline of my shirt and rips it down the middle. I screech from shock, and he continues ripping till it is off me.

“Oh Sunshine, you have some beautiful tits.” He groans as he leans down and latches his lips on one of my nipples. I gasp out from pleasure as he sucks, nibbles and licks my nipples through my bra. Thousands of jolts of delight ripple through my body to my core. I began to feel a zing of energy and mixing that with pleasure, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding my hips up into Rafe.

“That’s it baby, let the drug begin to work. Let me make you feel good and forget Maybank for tonight.” He murmurs as he continues his assault on my tits, his mouth on one and his hand, pulling and pinching the other.

“More” I whimper to him, trying to get more friction. He reached behind me undoing my bra and let go of my wrists, I moved my arms so he can get off. My hands fly into his hair to push more into my chest. He grinds down on me and I groan, I feel the heat build in my stomach.

I have a slight moment of clarity, where I thought what the fuck am I doing, when Rafe rolls his hips and the tip of cock hits the seam in my shorts just right to rub my clit and I see stars. I moan out as I squeeze my eyes shut and let my orgasm wash over me.

“Fuck Sunshine, when was the last time you came?” he chuckles, reaching down to unbutton my shorts and take them off. He stands up, using the opportunity of me in a blissful state, to rid himself of his clothes. I look over to him and see his cock saluting me. My eyes wide at how big he was.

“Shit Rafe, I don’t know what you plan to do with that monstrosity, but it ain’t fitting in me.” I say in wonder.

“I’ll make it fit,” he said as he spread my legs and slapped my pussy. I yelped, still sensitive from my release, but it caused a wildfire to spread through my veins. He slapped it a few more times, rendering me a whiny mess. I tried to hide my face, ashamed at how he was making me feel. I knew the E was mainly to blame, but a part of me knew it wasn’t all the drugs.

“Oh, don’t be shy now” Rafe taunted as he pulled my hands from face and roughly kissing me.

Distracted by his kiss, I didn’t notice he lined his cock up to enter me. He shoved it in my soaked pussy and I screamed in his mouth. The pain and burn from his stretching without prep was almost unbearable. Instantly, tears formed in my eyes and I pulled my mouth free.

“FUCK!” I cried out “Rafe, get out, pull out, it hurts so bad!” I cry but he continues to snap his hips into me, even though I was pushing on his stomach.

“Shut the fuck up and take it.” He growled as he grabbed my arm and jerked it above my head, slamming into me faster. I was whimpering, crying mess underneath him. He continued to pound into me, hitting my cervix, lips taking what they wanted from my lips down to my breasts.

“I’ll have you forgetting Maybank after tonight and you’ll only want my cock in this pussy. You’re mine now, Sunshine” he rasped in my ear.

“I hate you” I hissed at him.

Eventually the pain began to be replaced by pleasure, my cries turning into moans as I felt my core heat up and the band began to tighten.

“You keep saying that, but your body doesn’t,” he taunted “you might be venomous, nonchalant, and a raging bitch to the rest of the world, but all you needed was a Daddy to tame that mouth and this pussy. Didn’t you?”

I ignored him, not wanting to agree with him. Suddenly I heard and then felt the smack across my face. I let out a shocked yelp and grabbed face with my free hand. My body betrayed and a rush of arousal coated his cock.

“Oh, you like being slapped huh? When I ask you a question, you answer it, slut” he hissed at me.

“Yes Daddy” I moaned out, before slapping my hand over my mouth, not believing what I just said.

“That’s my good little slut” he teased.

He let go of my hand and reached down with both hands to push my thighs into my chest. I cried out as the new position hit my G-spot and I saw stars. Within seconds, the band snapped in my stomach and I was screaming daddy repeatedly.

“That’s it, you little cunt, cum all over my cock.” He grunted before pulling out and flipping me over on my stomach. He straddled my thighs, pulled my butt up, and shoved himself back into me. I moaned as the new position let him hit deeper. I grabbed the headboard needing to ground myself, as the drugs and orgasm made me feel like I was floating away.

He wrapped his arm around my neck, putting me in a chokehold, snapping his hips into me at such an ungodly pace. I could already feel another release coming. The drugs had all my senses turned up to an eleven, the burning in my stomach, the tingling in my core, the pleasurable pain every time he hit my cervix. I felt that if I had another orgasm, I would fly off into outer space.

“S’too much, daddy” I whine, trying to push on his stomach. “I can’t do it”

He slapped my hand away and smacked my thigh hard, making me cry out.

“You will take everything I give you. You’re my little cum slut now and you will obey me” he grunted. He grabs my arm and jerks them around behind my back, grabbing both wrists with one hand. With his other hand, he grabs hair and uses both as leverage to fuck me harder.

All you could hear in the room were my ‘uh-uhs’ and our skin slapping together. I was close as my walls begin to flutter around his cock, but he was too as I felt his hips stutter.

“You better cum before me or you’re outta luck,” he panted. “We’re not here for your pleasure, only mine.” He taunts as he speeds up getting closer to his release.

I manage to wrestle one of my hands free and reach down to rub my clit. The added stimulation almost instantly makes me fall over the edge, I scream out and clamp down on Rafe’s dick. My body convulses as I have the strongest release of my life, but the E in my system causes me to keep cumming tears falling down my cheeks as I can’t stop.

“Jesus Fuck” Rafe gasps, “You’re clenching so tight I can barely move.”

He forces his cock in and out of me as he pants and grunts. Slamming into me one more time, I feel his seed shoot out against my walls.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hisses. He slowly thrust back into me a few times before pulling out and flip me over. I was essentially a rag doll by this point.

“Oops can’t have any Daddy’s juices spilling out can we?” he smirks, shoving two fingers in me pushing his cum back in me. I whimpered and grabbed his wrist.

“Stop, too sensitive” I whimper out.

“Stop being a whiny slut” he sneers before slapping my pussy a few times. I cry out, tears running down my cheeks. He reaches for his phone and takes a picture of me.

“What the fuck” I snap.

“I need something to jerk off to when you’re not around”

He shows me the picture. I look royally fucked out, mascara and tears running down my cheeks, lipstick smeared all over my face, bruises and hickeys around my neck and chest. He grabs my phone and tosses it to me.

“Unlock it” he demands.

I do without any argument. He puts his number on and sends himself a text, so that he has my number.

“When I call, I expect you to answer and come to me” he demands coldly. “If you don’t, then the whole island will know your just my cum slut and enjoy it. I have evidence.” he grins.

I nod, knowing he had me, because the thought of the pogues, especially JJ finding out made me sick to my stomach. He tossed my shorts and some tshirt he found to me.

“Now you’re gonna get dressed, go back to the party and act like nothing happened. Your hickeys were from some random touran.” He instructed. “The whole time you pine over JJ, my cum will be seeping out of your cunt. Oh, and clean your face up.”

I move slowly getting off the bed. I get dressed and head to the en suite bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and start to cry. I splash water on my face, cleaning myself up, the whole-time sobbing.

Rafe comes in the bathroom and stares at me for a minute. I turn to face him and he smacks me on the cheek, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to sting and leave his handprint.

“Stop crying like a cunt,” he mocked me, “You enjoyed it, I think I counted three orgasms from you?”

“It was the drugs” I argue.

“Sure, sure. The explain why you were soaked before I gave you the E?” he asked.

I’m looked away cause I had no answer, at least not one I was willing to admit.

“S’what I thought,” he smirked “Now get downstairs, before I change my mind and take you home, tie you up, and use you all night.”

I ran out of the bedroom and went downstairs, looking for my friends.

Walking around, I finally found John B and Sarah making out in a corner. Pope was in another room trying to woo a girl with coroner talk, the poor girl looked scared for her life. The last room I walked into, JJ and Kie were on a couch, Kie in JJ’s lap making out. My friends, wait no family, didn’t seem to have missed me.

I walked into the kitchen and made me a drink and walked outside to one of the patio chairs. My phone dinged with a message.

Remember our deal and no one finds out. Although with as worried as they were for you, not sure they would seem to care.

I downed my drink and got up to get another one, tears running down my cheeks.

How the fuck did I get in this situation and what was I gonna do. All knew was I hated Rafe Cameron and I would find a way out.

Tagging some moots:

@princessmaybank @echo-at-the-pond @babygorewhore @drudyslut @rafescokewhore @rafesc0kewh0re @starfxkr @blueicequeen19 @drewstarkeyslut @pankowperfection @maybankskiss @ch4rrykisses

[propertyofwicked]

THIS IS US - LN

warnings: smut throughout!! MDNI!! unprotected sex, little bit of jealous!lando

snippets of lando and his girls sex life throughout the years of their relationship! <3 (can be read as a fewtrell!reader but it's not discussed)

masterlist the playlist

the first time -

y/n remembered her first time with lando like it was yesterday. the two of them, freshly 19 and still friends at the time, found themselves cuddled up on the sofa in his and max’s shared house. their friends slept dotted around the house, many of them drunk and sleeping in the first place their body stumbled into.

there’d always been a sense of something more between the two, friends from a young age, attached at the hip. they were close, too close for friends, max would tell him constantly - raising his eyebrows every time he caught them wrapped up in each other on the couch, or when they entwined their hands at any given opportunity. everyone around them had given up trying to push the two together, hoping they would come to their senses soon.

their first time happened so naturally, it was quite sweet actually. her head resting on his shoulder, as they sat together, her eyes staring wide up at his face. it was that moment he decided to go for it, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. he half expected her to push him off, but found himself pleasantly surprised when she kissed him back, escalating the kiss till she was straddling his lap.

“not here,” she remembered him whispering in her ear, pulling her up from his lap as he lead the two of them to his room. the two of them resuming there position on his bed, lando resting his back on the headboard, palms covering her waist as she hovered over his cock.

“-wait!” she panicked slightly, “i don’t know how to-”

“it’s ok, you’re fine. just breathe, ill guide you. go slow, yeah?” he reassured her. in the heat of the moment he had forgotten this was her first time with anyone, let alone him, and yet she’d decided to get on top.

y/n remembered lowering down on him, his grip on her hips allowing him to fill her slowly. lando distinctly remembered her shy moans, the way she tried to stay quiet, aware of the amount of people in the house.

“fuck me, angel. so tight,” he’d said, grunting slightly as she got lower, fighting to keep his hips still whilst she grew accustomed to the stretch, “last bit angel, you can take it.”

“there’s more?” she’d replied, panting slightly as he chuckled at her, “i can’t d-”

she remembered the way their eyes locked as he jutted his hips up into her, filling her whole. he remembered the way her mouth gaped open, and the way her head rolled back as his hands slowly rocked her hips over his length.

lando was gentle with her, kissing her softly throughout, his moans and praises merging together as she grew more confident, falling into a steady rhythm on top of him.

“i love you,” he’d grunted as his hands ran over her skin, trying to remember everything about her - the way she felt, the way she sounded, the way she clenched around his cock when she got closer. she reciprocated his sentiment, neither of them shocked at the revelation.

“you owe me a tenner,” max had said to niran the next day, after he’d found the two of them passed out in lando’s bed, smiling to himself.

getting caught -

the two of them gained more confidence with their sex life the following years. lando knew exactly what she needed, and how to make her fold for him. max had described the two as rabbits, going at it like no one’s business, laughing to himself as the trio constructed a new bedframe - the last one meeting its unfortunate ending when lando had taken out his stress on his girl. her legs had been over his shoulders when they heard a snap! and felt the mattress dipping into the broken slat. the paint on the headboard had long been chipped from the constant banging into the wall behind, and one of the legs was coming lose.

it had been mid-season, the two of them finding themselves in his drivers room after an unfortunate race. y/n had tried consoling him, but being comforting and supportive was not working at the time. he’d come round eventually and talk to her but for now, he had her pressed against the wall, her cheek pushed up against it. her skirt had simply been tugged up around her hips, panties to the side as he pushed into her from behind, roughly thrusting as he muttered curses under his breath. his hand was about to snake around her waist to toy with her clit when the door flung open.

“land- OH SHIT!” a voice had called out before dissolving into giggles, followed by the door slamming shut again. the shocked face of daniel ricciardo, followed by his distinct laugh, was something y/n was sure would never leave her brain. the interruption hadn’t bothered lando, the two of them were both covered enough for daniel to have seen too much, and so he took it in his stride, bringing them both to a finish soon after.

it had taken a while for y/n to look daniel in the eyes again without wanting to drop dead on the spot, her boyfriend simply smirked at the memory.

club, cameras, cars -

lando’s body was pressed up against hers, packed together in the busy club, their bodies moving in time with the beat. his hands stayed firmly on her waist, telling her it was so she wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but realistically it had been his way of keeping her close to him. close enough that he could drop his head to hers, joining their lips together in a deep kiss. her tongue dragged along his bottom lip, before her teeth nipped at him, pulling away slowly to catch her breath. his hips grinding into hers, her hands running through his curls.

she was obsessed with him, his unbuttoned shirt, the way his necklace peaked through - she was feral for him.

he looked up momentarily, glad to meet max’s eyes, who directed him to the corner where a man similar in age was filming the interaction between the couple. he leant down to her ear again, so that she could hear him over the loud bass.

“someone filming us,” he told her, feeling her body tense slightly, “you wanna get out of here?”

she’d nodded at him. being filmed by anyone and everyone was nothing new for her, although she wished people would have some concept of privacy. it was somewhat infuriating, but she guessed that was the price she paid for loving the man in front of her. his eyes had softened at her, noticing her anxiety - she didn’t get anxious when people captured them driving around, or just living their normal lives. she did however when such intimate moments were filmed and posted on twitter for the world to see. people had strong opinions - strong opinions that they shared online all whilst hiding their own identities.

they walked next to each other, his hand clutching hers protectively as they said goodbye to max. a few cameras flashed as they walked towards lando’s car, the odd fan approaching him to sign something - they assumed someone had leaked where they were. it was these interactions she didn’t mind, the ones that didn’t make her feel like her whole life was being dissected by the media.

“’m glad max pointed him out,” he started as they climbed into the car, “don’t want to imagine how far i would’ve gone if he hadn’t.”

“you would’ve fucked me in the middle of a club?” she spluttered out, turning to stare at him as he pulled onto the main road.

“i’d fuck you anywhere, angel,” he replied with a shrug.

“you are the pr teams worst nightmare,” she joked, shaking her head at him again.

“hey!” he defended, “since when did loving my girlfriend become a crime?”

“it’s not,” she conceded, smirking to herself at her next statement, “the real crime is the fact you’re not pulling into that lay-by right now.”

“i- wha-,” he stuttered, taken aback at her boldness, “here? right now?”

“why not? there’s no one around.”

he didn’t bother indicating, pulling the car into the side lane, and hurrying to turn the lights off. his free hand adjusted the seat, rolling it back as far as it went before reaching over to grab the woman besides him. she clambered over the centre console, landing not-so graciously on his lap.

the whole interaction was messy and lacking in any decorum. his cock was deep inside her, stretching her out as he thrusted up into her. with every bounce her knees hit the side of the door or the centre console, sure to bring bruises to the skin from the sheer impact. she leant forwards into him, his hands trailing under her dress to squeeze at her breasts.

“baby, lean back a bit,” he had told her, desperate to see her face.

“lan, if i lean any further back im gonna hit the horn,” she said, still adjusting herself to lean up.

“you can hit my horn,” he retorted, giggling to himself at the childish joke.

“don’t make jokes when you’re inside me,” she begged, sighing at the man in front of her.

the counter -

y/n had remembered their move to monaco fondly, lando had been living there for a few months before she made the move herself. she recalled the heartfelt goodbye with her family and friends, her entire life packed into boxes and a suitcase as she moved to a country she’d never even visited. the move felt right, especially after 3 years together - 2 months of long distance was hard enough, neither of them could imagine spending anymore time apart. she’d set herself up as a small time content creator, working closely within quadrant to build up a sufficient income to support herself in between races. lando’s fans loved the snippets of domestic lando, but they also appreciated her wicked sense of humour and her biased insight on the world of motorsport.

once she’d settled into life at the new flat, traces of her personality dotted around, the woman found herself on facetime to her mum giving her a virtual tour.

lando had been out of the flat, spending his morning training, returning home sweaty but overjoyed to hear the sounds of his girlfriends voice travelling through their home. taking the opportunity to sneak up on her, he crept around the hallway, moving quietly towards the kitchen.

“praying my B in french GCSE is gonna come in hand- AH!” y/n yelped, almost dropping her phone as lando pounced on her shoulders, shouting boo! as he did. the older woman on the phone laughed as her daughters face went from startled to glaring at the boy behind her.

“i better leave you two be,” her mum had told them, smiling at the camera and waving slightly to the couple. the shock of her youngest child announcing that she was moving to a different country was wearing off gradually - the happiness of her daughter being with someone she’d secretly rooted for their entire childhood taking over.

“bye mum!” “bye y/m/n!”

y/n had placed the phone beside her, leaning back to rest on the counter. lando had fallen into her embrace, hands wrapping around her waist as he pressed kisses across her entire face. she leant into the kiss, joining their lips together in what had started so innocently. in what had started as such a wholesome day, talking to her mum about the new flat and spending time with the man she loved, quickly turned into something much more.

he’d soon noticed how the counter perfectly lined up with her waist, smirking into her lips as they kissed, before his hands twisted her waist, turning her by the hip until she was pressed up against the marble. her back arching as he bent her over, grinding her ass into him as she did. he’d tugged at her jeans, pulling them down her legs slowly, her lace panties following soon after. he’d allowed her a moment to step out of them, kicking her clothes across the kitchen floor, before kicking her feet further apart. his strong hand gripped her hip, stabilising her frame as he guided his cock through her folds, covering it in her slick before pushing himself into her fully. she moaned out for him, her hands searching for anything to grip onto for support, settling on wrapping around the coffee machine.

the counter pushed on her lower stomach, the pressure sending waves through her body as she tightened around him. he grunted at the feeling, his fingers finding their way to her clit, falling into a natural rhythm as he always did. lando knew her body like it was his own, he could map every bump, every scar, every freckle that adorned her skin. he knew where she needed him, and how.

“im gonna cum,” she’d whimpered pathetically, embarrassed at how quickly she fell apart for him.

“already?” he asked cockily, his hand landing harshly on her ass. lando took her moment of shock to run his hand up her back, his fingers settling at the base of her hair. he gripped at the roots, tugging her entire body back into his, her face settling next to his. he could hear the way she panted, the way his name tumbled from her lips like a mantra.

“always take me so well,” he moaned in her ear, exhaling as he did. the feeling of his breath hitting the skin of her neck sent her over the edge. she fell forwards, legs shaking beneath him.

lando’s hands moved back to her hips, holding her up so that she wouldn’t fall as he pushed her into the counter again. he thrusted into her for a minute more, his pace growing sloppier as he reached his own climax. y/n whined at him, overstimulated and sore - her noises short circuited his brain, and soon after he was filling her up, his cum leaking from the sides as he rode out his own high.

they panted together, lando pulling his cock out as they fought to catch their breath.

“how did we manage to fuck in the kitchen before our actual bedroom?” she chuckled, moving to grab her discarded clothes and shuffling towards the bathroom.

“never gonna be able to cook in here without thinking about this,” he replied with a shake of his head, as he followed her out of the room with a final glance at the counter. the coffee machine now skewed, water puddled around it from where she’d knocked the tank.

“lando norris? cooking? that’ll be the day the world spontaneously combusts,” she teased.

jealousy -

y/n had accompanied lando and max to the motogp event, finding herself in a deep conversation with someone she had hung around with during the karting days. she hadn’t expected to see him there, pleasantly surprised to catch up with an old friend who’d she’d spent a lot of time with growing up. she honestly saw no harm in it, lando and max had disappeared to film content of the day, so she saw no issue in speaking to him rather than sit alone, twiddling her fingers.

lando, however, was fuming not happy. he trusted his girlfriend in any situation, it was other men he didn’t trust, especially when he walked up to find y/n laughing loudly with a man he vaguely recognised.

“y/n, we’re leaving now,” lando told her, clenching his fists at his sides rather than taking her hand.

“oh- ok,” she replied, a little startled at his tone, “bye sam! was lovely seeing you!” she said to the man, turning on her heel to catch up with her boyfriend.

“lovely to see you!” lando mocked childishly when she rejoined his side, “yeah bet he thought it was lovely to see you.”

“what is your problem?” she asked, stopping short of the car, arms crossed over her chest.

“what’s my problem? you. him. the way he looked at you?”

“are you serious?” she asked, taken aback, “he’s an old friend lando. grow up.”

“grow up?” he repeated, “you don’t see me laughing like that with old friends.”

“whatever you do with old friends is not my problem, i trust you to make the right decision. but clearly, you don’t trust me,” she responded, marching past him and climbing in the back of max’s car.

the two barely spoke for days, the silence made worse by the fact they were stuck together in max’s spare room. y/n spent her days with P, lando with max - the other couple desperately trying to speak sense into the two of them, knowing just how stubborn they both could be.

y/n finally believed their spat was over when he settled between her legs, eating at her like a man starved. she was stubborn, but never too stubborn to pass up the chance of his tongue on her heat. his hands gripped at her thighs, his grip leaving bruises on her skin. lando’s tongue swirled around her clit before sucking at her harshly. she was so close, hands gripping at anything - his hair, the bedsheets, his hands. but then she felt nothing, only cold air against her desperate heat as lando pushed himself away and stood up to move across the room.

she sat up on her arms, staring at him in complete disbelief.

“what the fuck lando?”

“you know what you need to do if you wanna cum,” he’d told her, dark eyes staring back at her. he wanted an apology, she wasn’t going to apologise. she’d done nothing wrong.

“good idea, lan. ill see if sam’s free,” she shot back, leaning forward to grab her phone from the bedside table.

that had been her mistake. potentially too brave in the moment, y/n genuinely didn’t know if she regretted even alluding to messaging the man causing the couples squabble.

“i didn’t mean it!” she’d moaned out, feeling his hand slap against the skin of her ass harshly, the feeling sending shots of pleasure back to her core, before he rolled her onto her back once more. he freed his cock quickly, roughly thrusting into her with no warning.

“’m sor- m’sorry,” she said again, her legs pulled harshly over his shoulders as he fucked into her. he wasn’t even mad anymore, yet he rammed into her as if to teach her a lesson, as if he was literally fucking the attitude out of her. she moaned out loudly at the feeling, lando’s grunts like music to her ears.

“you gonna behave now?” he asked her, pace remaining relentless.

“i wi- will,” she choked out, “i promise.”

“good girl, that’s more like it,” he said, satisfied with her remorse as his fingers returned to her clit.

she came hard and fast around him, the tightening of her walls bringing him to his own climax. he pulled out slowly, rolling to lay next to her as their chests heaved in unison.

“you know i do trust you, right?” he asked, finally willing to talk to her about the argument.

“i know. i just wish you’d show it, rather than getting angry when i speak to any man.”

“im sorry,” lando apologised, pulling her into his side and pressing a kiss to her head, “im trying my best, m’trying not to let jealousy get the better of me.”

“thank you,” she offered him, “and ill try not to provoke you. even if it does result in the best sex of my life.”

he chuckled lightly, his breathing finally stable. but no quiet moment between the two would ever stay quiet for long.

“im glad you guys made up and that, but next time can you not be so loud?” max shouted through the door, making the couple blush as they realised they’d forgotten that he was home, “oh, and you’re cleaning those sheets.”

[dollfacefantasy]

kenny. omg. hear me out. being rick’s stress relief during the alexandria arc of s5 😵‍💫 like omg yeah he’s clean shaven now but can’t go two days w/o fighting w someone from alexandria, got restrained by michonne n everything… figures he needs smth else to keep the group in alexandria’s good graces and settles on smth along the lines of free use w you!! can’t be too shitty of a day if you get fucked into the mattress by the end of it ♡

hnghhh em omg i love you so bad. ur genius for this. i put a little backstory because i'm physically incapable of not being longwinded lol <3

rick grimes x fem!reader

rick needs a little stress relief with all the new responsiblities at alexandria

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, age gap (early 20s/late 30s)

You always thought stress was supposed to decrease someone’s sex drive, but now that you were getting fucked dumb every single night, you were sure that wasn’t true.

Rick had to be the most wound up person you’d ever known, constantly up in arms about something. Ever since he and his group arrived at your once peaceful community, there’d been nothing but conflict. At best it was petty drama, at worst guns were drawn and brains were about to be splattered all over the pavement.

The worst it got was that day you saw him in the middle of the street hunched over the doctor like a rabid dog. You’d stayed back, keeping your distance from him as he waved his gun around and rambled on about control. Crimson blood dripped from his hairline all over his face. You couldn’t tell whether it belonged to him or the incapacitated man beneath him.

You’d never seen anyone like him. Living in Alexandria since the start of the outbreak meant you were pretty sheltered. The people here rarely raised their voices let alone tackled each other through windows. He looked like the physical manifestation of what everyone warned you life outside the walls was like.

It was scary, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on.

Needless to say, you were pretty eager to offer yourself up to take the position watching him while the others decided what to do going forward.

You entered the room while he was still asleep. He was as peaceful as you’d ever seen him. Taking a seat in the chair beside the bed, you looked at him almost as if he was encased in glass, a specimen for your examination. His skin still had the scarlet tint of blood. His brown curls lie stuck between his temple and the ratty old pillow on the bed.

It startles you a bit when his eyes flutter open and connect with yours. Awkwardness sludges through your veins, but he looks you over like it’s nothing. You know you’re one of the least threatening people he’s come across in the new world. 

“You’re the one they got babysitting me, huh?” he rasps.

“I guess so,” you respond with more timidness than you would like.

His tongue slides out between his lips and licks the chapped skin while he continues to stare you down. It’s hard not to squirm in your seat, to shift your thighs against one another and make your desire known. Before you have a chance to think through your course of action though, he speaks again.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, his tone not looking to provoke a reaction but simultaneously wanting you to recognize your inferiority.

You shrug. He wasn’t gonna get the satisfaction. Not yet anyways.

“Are you scared of me?” he continues.

“No,” you answer.

“Good,” is all he says in response.

That was the last thing he said to you that day, but you could still hear the simple syllable in your mind. He might have been done talking to you. You weren’t through with him though. Under the guise of being assigned to watch him, you continued to linger around him as he went about his tasks in the community.

You tended to follow him around like a puppy. You were curious about him, watching him with inquisitive eyes, peeking over his shoulder as he cleaned his gun or tuned his transceiver. Your gazes were adoring too. It was obvious that you admired the way he could take control of a room with his words, how his people looked to him with reverence when he spoke.

He intoxicated you. In a world lacking things to do, observing Rick became a hobby for you.

He noticed of course, but he couldn’t say he minded. At least someone in this fucking place had an interest in survival and saw the value in listening to him. Plus, it didn’t hurt that you were pretty cute. He didn’t mind your company, didn’t mind teaching you things here and there. In his eyes, you were the least annoying out of all the new people here.

You both were on watch when you got a little promotion from least annoying. The two of you were sitting on the platform attached to the wall. It was night. Neither of you could sleep. Instead of telling you bits and pieces of the nightmares that kept sleep from him, he decided to teach you how to put a scope on a rifle. Nodding along to each thing he says, you watch his fingers and take note of every little thing he does. He gives you a few tries with it, but you’re still struggling to get the thing attached.

That’s when he looks at you, his expression unchanging, and pats his lap.

“C’mere.”

It’s out of your control really. You don’t even have a second to think about it before your legs have pushed you across the platform to the spot he beckoned you. With your back against his chest, his arms encase you and come around front to show you up close how to fasten the scope. When he’s done, he detaches it and makes you try.

His hands slide down your arms, lingering on the skin for longer than needed. They trail down to your sides then your hips. You bite your lip and try to focus on the task he wants you to perform rather than his touch. But then he leans forward to watch your hands work. His chin hovers above your shoulder. You can hear his breaths next to your ear. Once you’ve got it, you can essentially picture his subtle smirk in your mind.

“Good girl,” he croons teasingly.

You turn your head slightly, looking at him with your wide, innocent eyes. He chuckles and reaches up to stroke your cheek. Neither of you know what you’re really doing but one thing leads to another and you’re kissing. Then he’s got his hand up your shirt, groping your tits. It all comes to head and ends up with you straddling him, sinking down on his cock and burying your head in his shoulder.

Biting the fabric of his t-shirt to keep quiet, you begin to rise and fall. It felt so good as if it was what your body had been aching for. You felt the most alive you ever had in this shitty new world, and if the way he was gripping your hips and returning your thrusts were any indication, Rick felt the same way.

You both grunt and moan quietly as your bodies rut together with a primal desire for satisfaction. His lips glide over your collarbone and up your neck to the spot behind your ear. You let out a sharp whine which causes him to grin.

“Need you to be quiet, sweetheart,” he chides, “Don’t want to wake any of the others, do you?”

You’re quick to shake your head and cover your mouth with your palm, but you don’t stop bouncing. You needed him deep, rearranging your insides to a perfect mold for him.

“Then again,” he breathes, “They could stand to learn a thing or two from you. So obedient, eager to please…”

His words trail off as he helps you ride him. You’re so tight and warm, and for the first time since he set foot through those walls, his mind feels clear. He doesn’t hear the constant jabbering for his attention. His head doesn’t throb with the sensation of being pulled in five different directions. It’s like each thrust into your heat clears away a worry. By the time he cums, he feels drained of all his stress.

He needed more of that feeling. He couldn’t get enough of it. It was the start of a routine for the two of you. Everyday at least once, you were getting fucked till you were a drooling, dazed mess. And sometimes it was more than once. Sometimes he had you on your knees in the armory in the afternoon or pulled you into a storage closet on a morning supply run.

He had fifteen years on you, but most of the time he was the one leaving you exhausted.

And today had been a particularly bad day for Rick. Everything that could go wrong did. Alexandria was running low on a collection of different things, walkers were gathering at the East wall, one of the gate’s locks was rusting, a sprinkler broke, and on top of everything, he had to deal with everyone’s constant bitching.

The only thing that kept him from losing his shit was the thought of you laid in his bed at night waiting for him, batting your long eyelashes over those pretty doe eyes as you sat there in nothing but his t-shirt and a pair of panties. The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough.

He grits his teeth and dashes all across the community to try and get everything solved by sundown. The workload keeps him busy which fortunately makes the time go by faster. He also tries his best to keep his cool with people. There was no use starting petty conflicts when he had something much nicer to screw with now.

As soon as everyone’s headed off to bed and all the perimeters have been checked, he can’t get home fast enough. He’s quiet coming in. He didn’t wanna wake anyone. If someone got in his way now, he’d flip his lid worse than any of them had ever seen.

He’s up the stairs in seconds, taking them two at a time. Whisking the bedroom door open, a deep sigh seeps from his lungs as he sees his daydreams become realities of the night. Your pretty legs are on display for him as you lounge in the bed reading a book. He crosses the room and grabs you by the ankle to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. You already know what time it is and feel a dull tingle in the pit of your belly.

“Stressful day?” you ask as you finish the page you were on.

“Is the sky still blue?” he grumbles as he presses a kiss to your calf then another further up against your knee.

You smile at the quip, placing the book on the nightstand just in time as he flips you over onto your stomach. He climbs on top of you, squeezing your waist and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“Those people don’t even know how much they should be thanking you, baby,” he mumbles, “They don’t even know how many times a day you save their asses.”

You squirm a little beneath him as his fingers hook around your panties and tug them down. The sound of his zipper follows and it’s no time before you feel the weight of his dick against you.

“Needed you so bad all day,” he says.

“I needed you too,” you whimper as you feel slick gathering between your thighs.

He nips at your earlobe and rubs his hands up under his shirt you have on to tease the sides of your breasts.

“S’cute, honey,” he whispers, “Thinking about me while you did your little chores, hm?”

“Yeah,” you whine as he starts to line himself up and slot himself in the correct position.

It was such a familiar feeling, but each time it still made a chill run through you. Your insides ached with the pleasure that came from being filled up by him.

“Perfect girl. That’s just the way it should be,” he mutters.

He wastes no time before he starts thrusting. It only takes a couple before he starts groaning too. On nights like these, he was in no mood to take his time or savor the moment.

“So tight for me, Christ,” he chokes out, “There’s nothing like you.”

You moan softly too, putting your head down to muffle your sounds with the blanket. His hand rests around your neck for leverage as he fucks into you faster.

“That’s right, pretty baby. You’re so good for me. Givin’ me what I need. You’re the only one who can,” he grunts.

He snaps his hips harder, trying to find the limit of how hard he could go without being too loud or smacking the headboard into the wall. You claw at the ratty blankets on the bed as your toes curl. Your head turns to the side a little to peek up at him, and his eyes roll back.

“Everyone’s always fucking looking to me for something. No one can look at me like you can though. Those gorgeous eyes, all glossy for me. Not a thought behind ‘em right now,” he pants.

You nod weakly while digging your teeth into your lip again. It was getting harder to suppress the noises with the blanket alone.

“Rick…” you whimper, “Oh fuck, Rick.”

You gasp as he starts hitting the perfect spot. His stiff cock slips effortlessly in and out of you over and over and brushes that nook each time.

“Mhm. You’re the only one I wanna hear calling my name. Everyone here’s always whining for me, bitching for something. Not my girl though. The only time I hear you whining is when I’m balls deep, fucking you like you deserve,” he whispers.

You nod against the mattress. Your body rocks with the momentum of each thrust. Every stroke was working you closer to the edge, and Rick could feel his own impending as well.

Both his hands slide down to your hips to grip them hard. He keeps grinding and rolling his hips into you.

“Give it to me, princess. Lemme feel it. Gotta get my fix,” he says just as you start to tense up and jerk around below him.

You cum with a high moan into the plush fabric beneath you. Your body trembles and twitches as it handles the rush of euphoria. He keeps fucking you through it. His own noises start getting needier, closer to whimpers than groans. He grunts for a second as he finally feels release. He pulls out quickly and lets it spurt all over your ass. He’d so much rather do it inside, but he really didn’t need something else to worry about nine months from now.

With his release, the both of you are able to settle down for the night. He rolls off of you and quickly gets you cleaned up, so he can crawl into bed and hold you against his chest. The second most soothing thing to your pussy was the warmth of your body against him.

“So good for me, sweetheart. Always make things so good for me,” he sighs and lazily kisses your head, ready to drift off with the comfort of knowing this little scene would repeat itself tomorrow.

[covenofagatha]

can you do something like a mafia au where Agatha is a mob boss and reader is her girlfriend and Agatha is in her office working and reader comes in saying that she misses her and things slowly escalate... ?🙏🏼thank you so much if you do

I had to do so much research about the mafia lol

Taking care of business

Word count: 3000

Warnings: public sex, exhibitionism, fingering, strap-ons, degradation, praise, mentions of illegal activity and (implied?) murder, slight cockwarming, mommy kink

“Knock knock,” you say lamely, walking into the back of the pizza shop your girlfriend, Agatha, owned. 

She’s sitting at a desk, right finger between her teeth, while she scribbles down notes in her book. She glances up and raises an eyebrow delightfully when she sees it’s you. The man at the door nods and lets you in. 

“What are you doing here, hot stuff?” Agatha asks as she leans back in her chair and watches you walk over. You perch against her desk and eye the bodyguard and the two goons that work for her in the corner of the room. 

Agatha Harkness is the leader of the Harkness family mafia, inherited from her dad, Vincenzo Harkness. The pizza shop, The Dough Don, is a cover for their illegal activities and a front for money laundering. 

You had first met Agatha when you had first moved to New York City, looking for a fresh start at the ripe age of 23, and you had wandered into the first pizza restaurant you could find. 

There had been no one else in there except for the dark-haired beauty and a pack of four men. They had been huddled around a table in the back, their hushed voices barely carrying throughout the building. 

When you had walked in and the bell rang on the door, they jumped up and scrambled to put whatever they were working on away. You hadn’t thought too much about it, had been too hungry to care, but the pizza was really good so you had kept coming back. 

Each time though, there was no other customer inside, just Agatha and a few workers. 

After a while, you had worked up the courage to ask why you were the only one who ever seemed to be here. 

“This isn’t a real restaurant,” Agatha had told you conspiratorially, eyes twinkling. “I’m a mob boss and this is our cover.” 

You had laughed. “Then why is the pizza so good?” 

“Our associates just happen to be good cooks, among other things,” she had said with a shrug. 

But you had never imagined that she was serious. 

Things did start to change after that, though. You would walk in and ask how the mafia business was treating her, if they had extorted or blackmailed anyone lately. She always smirked back, winked, and made a witty comment, like she was pleased that you were playing along. It seemed like she was seeing you in a whole different light for the first time. 

But she wasn’t the only one who noticed you. 

One of the cooks started to take a liking to you. One day, you were enjoying your pizza alone as usual when he walked up and introduced himself. His name was Antonio, but you could call him Tony, and he had a thick New York accent. He had slid into the booth right next to you, one arm stretching around it behind you, his other hand drumming on the table. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by yourself? Surely you’ve got yourself a handsome fella by now,” he had said, trying to make his voice all smooth. 

Before you could reply and tell him that you weren’t actually into ‘fellas’ at all, a knife shot down in between his fingers and into the table. You let out a little scream and Tony jumped. 

It was Agatha holding the blade. 

“Shut your tongue before I cut it out,” she hissed, a completely different tone in her voice, and you started to think that maybe she wasn’t joking about everything. Tony, white from fear, got up and quickly scampered out of sight. You swallowed hard as Agatha’s glare had turned to you and she motioned for you to come to the back with her. 

That was the first time she had fucked you, just bent you over against her desk and took what she want, with you all too willing to give it to her. 

You hadn’t seen Tony since, but you learned early on to not ask questions you didn't want the answers to, especially around Agatha, who was actually, in fact, a mafia boss. 

And now you’re seven months into a relationship with her and she would still constantly tease you about not believing her. 

“Sorry I didn’t want to believe someone as hot as you was capable of murder,” you would mutter while entangled in her body after sex and she would toss her head back and laugh. 

“Oh, hon, I’m not the one killing people. That’s what I have the Soldatos for.” She had taught you all the positions in the mafia: she was the Don, the boss, and she had her Consigliere, the advisor, the Underboss, the second-in-command, the Capos, who oversaw the Soldatos, the soldiers required to carry out the violent acts (you wonder if she had sent them after Tony), and the Associates, who weren’t necessarily part of the family yet, but still helped out. 

It was a lot to remember, and one time, she had eaten you out while she made you recite all the members of her crime family. 

You were a liability, sure, but Agatha loved you and would protect you no matter what. And you knew that, as long as you stayed on her good side, you’d be alright. 

It was tricky business to get wrapped up like this with a notorious mafia boss, but you didn’t care. 

You’re happier than you've ever been in your life.

And maybe, just maybe, not that you would ever admit it out loud, you like when she tells you about the dangerous stuff she’s up to. When she comes to your apartment after work and, with a glint in her eye, tells you about the drugs she trafficked into the city and the money laundering and how she ordered one of her Soldatos to scare a loose cannon. 

It almost always ended up with you on her lap and her fingers buried in your wet and needy cunt. 

But one of the other crime families in New York, the Vidal Family, was making major moves, and Agatha was stressed. She didn’t tell you outright, but you could see it in her clenched jaw and faraway look in her eyes. 

She didn’t get home as early as she used to, and when she was there, she spent a lot of time drinking. 

And you started to miss her. 

So you decided to pay her a visit at work, just to spend some time with her. You didn’t care if she made you sit on the floor at her feet as long as you were next to her. 

“Thought I’d come see you,” you say quietly, fingers reaching but pausing an inch away from her hand holding the pen. She spins in her chair so she’s able to get a better look at you. Her eyes rake up and down your body. You put on a short black skirt and purple crop top, hoping for this exact reaction. 

“Oh yeah?” Agatha hums. 

You nod and begin to stroke your fingertips up and down her forearm. She’s wearing a pinstripe suit but the sleeves of her blazer are rolled up to her elbows. “I’ve been missing you,” you pout, trying to make your voice sound as small as possible. 

She smirks. “So my baby girl thought she’d come visit Mommy at work so she could get what she’s been wanting, hm?” 

You blush, shrugging noncommittally, and your eyes drop to the ground, feeling a little embarrassed with the three other men in the room pretending not to hear. 

Agatha reaches a hand up to grip your chin and tilt it roughly so you’re looking at her. “Tell me what you want, hon. Use your words like a good girl.” 

One thing you had noticed about her was how much she liked the fact that you were “good.” You weren’t involved in any shady business, other than her, and you hadn’t done as much as smoke a cigarette. It seemed to turn her on, almost as much as the fact that she had her hands dirty turned you on. 

There was no denying you two made a good pair. 

Hesitantly, you glance around to the other people and she smirks. “What’s wrong, baby? Don’t want Gio, Sal, and Emilio to know how desperate you are for me?” You bite your lip, shaking your head. She leans in closer. “Don’t worry. They know better than to pay attention to us. Now, tell me, what do you want?” 

You take a shaky breath as her fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. “I want you to fuck me,” you say and she smiles like she’s a cat that got the cream. 

“Right here? In front of them?” She asks. “Are you that desperate for me that you need me right now?” 

Before you met her, you would’ve never even considered it. 

But Agatha has changed you in so many ways. So you throw caution to the wind. 

“Yes,” you say and before you can add anything else, she shoots up out of her chair, grabs the backs of your thighs, and lifts you up so you’re sitting on her desk. A thrill runs through you and you gasp. 

Her hands hike up your skirt and her fingers rub your slit over your lacy underwear and she chuckles deeply. 

“You really need this, don’t you? You’re dripping,” she taunts and you weakly move your hips against her to try and get her to touch your clit. 

“Fuck,” a man’s voice whispers from the corner and both of your heads whip to the side to see both of the Soldatos staring at you. You blanch at him ogling you and Agatha so obviously and the one on the right clamps his hand over his mouth. 

“Boys, if you don’t want this to be the last thing you ever see, I would suggest turning around,” Agatha warns cooly, the threat obvious in her voice, and they instantly obey. That only makes you ache more for her, the way she just takes control like that, the way that she is so powerful no one has a choice but to do as she says. 

Power exudes from her, and you have her wrapped around your fingers. 

Well, not yet, at least. 

Agatha turns back to you, giving you a wicked grin. “Now that that’s settled, where were we?” Her hand finds its way back to your clothed pussy before you can make a smart retort, shutting you up. Your head falls back and you bite your lip to stifle a moan, but she tugs your bottom lip out from your teeth with a thumb. “I want to hear you.” 

“But–” 

She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about them, hon. Focus on me.” And then she finally slides your underwear to the side and collects your wetness from your leaking hole and swirls it around your clit. You whimper louder this time, and she nods, seemingly satisfied. 

You begin to get more needy, the stimulation to your clit not enough, and you start grinding when she moves her fingers down to get them inside. 

Agatha knows what you want and puts her lips right next to your ear. “Beg for it, baby girl. Let them hear how desperate you are for me.” 

“Mommy, please, I need you to fuck me,” you say immediately, aching too much to care anymore. She chuckles and slides one finger into you, your walls clenching down on it. She curls it roughly and you gasp loudly. 

“Show them how good Mommy is fucking you right now,” she demands, fitting another finger into you and you groan. You can see how stiff the guys in the corner have become, and you can’t see the bodyguard behind you at the door, but you imagine he’s in a similar position. 

You don’t know why having them in the same room as you while Agatha is pounding into you with her fingers is making you more wet, but it is. 

Her thumb comes up to swipe at your clit and you whine, needing more than that. You roll your hips to meet every thrust and you can feel yourself getting closer when Agatha starts sucking harshly on your neck. 

Noises are falling out of your mouth left and right and you’re climbing closer, feeling so good because it’s been so long since she’s touched you, when all of a sudden, someone clears their throat behind you. 

Agatha sighs against your skin and you jerk around, trying to close your legs, but your girlfriend holds them open and lazily fucks you, slowing down her pace. 

The bodyguard has moved to block the person from view, but Agatha tells Gio to step aside. You recognize the interrupter to be Wanda Maximoff, the Consigliere. 

You don’t think you could blush any more when she begins to walk over to the desk, Agatha’s fingers still inside you, every thrust making a squelching sound. 

Wanda drops three black notebooks onto the desk, about a foot from your ass. It’s like she doesn’t even see you. 

“We need to go through some things, make sure the bookkeeper has been on it,” Wanda says disinterestedly. Agatha rolls her eyes and twists her fingers particularly rough and you can’t help but moan. Both women ignore you. 

“I swear, if Marco messed something up,” Agatha grumbles and pulls out of you, making you whine. You stare at her with wide eyes, pleading to not leave you hanging like that. She gently pats your face with her wet hand. “Don’t worry, doll, I didn’t forget about you. No, Mommy’s got something else for you.” 

You hear Wanda snicker behind you and you’re too humiliated to turn around. And yet, when you stand up, you can feel how slick you are on your inner thighs. Agatha sits down in her chair, unzips her pants, and you lose the ability to breathe when she pulls out your favorite purple strap-on. 

You forget that anyone else is in the room. 

“Come sit on Mommy while she works,” Agatha says, stroking the hand that was inside you up and down the length a few times. She doesn’t have to tell you twice, you straddle her lap and sink down on her, whimpering at the stretch while you put your arms around her neck. “Good girl. Now hold still,” she whispers to you and scooches the chair back to the desk so she can grab a hold of the books. You feel so full just having her in you like this, and the urge to move is almost overpowering. 

But you’re not going to break her rule. So you hold still, like the good girl that you are. 

Wanda begins to talk about numbers and inputs and outputs, but you don’t have an ounce of focus to actually listen. Each time Agatha leans forward to see what the Consigliere is talking about or to sign something, the toy shifts inside you and you have to gasp. Eventually, you get so worked up that you begin to roll your hips ever the slightest. Your muffled moans get louder and you’re just trying to grind enough so that your clit can get the pressure it so desperately needs. 

“Give me one second, Wanda,” Agatha remarks, finally making eye contact with you. “I have a desperate little slut I need to take care of.” 

Hearing her degrade you like that, like you’re not writhing around in her lap for everyone to see, makes your walls flutter around the toy. 

Agatha’s hand comes around your throat to gently squeeze and she puts her lips against your ear. “Take whatever you need, and don’t even dream of being quiet.” 

Given permission, you slowly lift yourself up her cock and drop back down once you get to the tip. The slow drag of her against your grooves makes your head drop back with a loud moan. 

“What were you saying?” Agatha asks, having taken care of the minor inconvenience. Wanda launches back into talking about the books, but you can’t hear her over your as you begin bouncing faster in Agatha’s lap. One hand comes down to rub at your clit furiously, the tightening in your body coming back in no time. 

“You know, that’s quite a pretty girl you’ve got there,” Wanda remarks and it takes you a minute to realize that she’s talking about you. Agatha smirks, looking appreciatively at you riding her. You can’t see Wanda’s face but you imagine she’s wearing a similar expression. 

You don’t hate the image as much as you thought you would. 

In fact, it only makes you try harder to show off, rolling your hips when you get to the bottom so you force Agatha’s tip deep against the spot where you so desperately need it. Your finger circles your clit so hard that it almost hurts but it’s so good. 

“She is such a perfect whore for me, isn’t she?” Agatha agrees fondly, and you preen, the praise making you tighten up even more around her. You can tell you’re getting closer, so close you can taste it. 

“Look at her, about to cum all over your cock in front of me,” Wanda says, and for some reason, that’s what does it. 

You let out a long whine as your orgasm explodes over you and you continue shakily fucking yourself on Agatha as the two women laugh at you. 

Agatha brushes a piece of your hair off your sweaty forehead while you breathe hard from the exertion. “Did you get what you wanted?” 

You nod, too worn out to answer. 

“If you can be a good girl for real this time, and you behave for the rest of this meeting, I promise you’ll get a reward,” Agatha says, raising an eyebrow promisingly. “Sounds good?” 

“Yes, Mommy. You’re the boss,” you say, voice trembling, and she looks positively delighted to hear you call her that. She gives you a playful thrust that makes you keen. 

“Yes I am.” 

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[doomedmoth]

Better kind of best friend (part 3)

Pairing : Reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux x Charles Leclerc | Poly & bisexual fem!reader

Warnings : obsessive/possessive/manipulative behavior, suggestive content/smut, fluff then angst then dark fluff, inaccurate racing calendar and school programs, polyamory, use of y/n

Synopsis : When you left the UK for a year long art restoration program in Monaco, you mainly wanted to make some friends. What you didn't expect was to find your best friend on the first day. And then fall in love with her. And then get tangled in the web of Monaco high society as her boyfriend came back to town, unaware of your little affairs. What the fuck happened to you, you just wanted to make some friends...

Moth's prophecy 💡 : Your favorite omen of doom & cringe is baaaack ! I wanted to give a special thanks to all the precious cryptids who have asked for the part three for literal weeks, always staying patient, nice, and sending messages so sweet I rot my teeth on them and made a collection of screenshots in my notes to motivate me. I never thought anyone would like my writing, let alone wait for it, so thank you. Y’all are my lights. On the subject of Better kind of best friend, a fourth part was not planned at first, but will make the ending smoother, so I’m sorry, this is not the end yet ! For those just discovering the series, you can find part one here and part two here, or in in the masterlist ! Enjoy !

“Ah per favore… Tell me you’re not dressing up like that for her.”

“Ah please, tell me you’re not giving your opinion when no one asked for it.” Chiara popped her tongue at your cold answer, and stayed in the opening of your door, clearly judging you.

You had been going through your closet for about an hour now, and the floor seemed to only disappear more and more under the layers of clothes thrown onto it carelessly. Nothing seemed good enough, partly because you had no idea what to expect for the evening, and mostly because no matter how much you refused to admit it, Chiara was right. You wanted to look pretty for someone else than yourself. For two people exactly. The thought of how quick you had thrown away all of your big principles when faced with fluttering eyelashes and pink cheeks almost made you sick.

Yet when they both got up from the table, Alex running to your arms with a smile and Charles blushing, eyeing you up and down, you thought that Chiara should just shut up once in a while. This was too good to not enjoy.

And you had promised yourself this would not be the same this time. They were your friends, they were dating, and you would keep a healthy relationship with both of them. But then Alexandra softly kissed your cheeks, and took your hand in hers. You would limit any type of confusing physical touch, and make sure to not give in to sweet pet names. But then she led you to Charles, who put his hand, much bigger and more calloused than his girlfriend’s, on your waist, and brought you closer to greet you. You would not let your fantasies take over facts, and you would keep all communication clear and honest to ensure your best friend stayed exactly that. A best friend. But then he told you you were gorgeous, and she giggled while still holding your hand, and they had your favorite drink already on the table, and suddenly you forgot everything you had told yourself in the mirror while getting ready. Surely it would come back to you if it was that important. Right ?

Back to you it came, in the form of Alex’s gorgeous friend and one of your workshop colleague, Luca. Almost falling on you as you exited the bathroom, he seemed like he had had one too many drinks already, and didn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

“Oh mais regarde toi, quelle beauté !” He grabbed at your waist and kissed your cheeks, blabbering on and on in French about your makeup and outfit. “Who are you trying to impress by looking so gorgeous, babe ?”

You chuckled and pretended he was wrong, but could not help and steal a glance. Of course you wanted to impress them, what a joke to pretend you did not care. Why for, even you had no idea, but you knew you would be satisfied as long as they kept their eyes on you. Which they had stopped doing for a while now, seeing as they were cuddled up on one of the couches, Alexandra sitting on Charles’ lap, hands in his hair, while he peppered her neck and shoulder with soft kisses. You could hear her giggles from afar, smell his shampoo, or maybe you just knew them too well for your own good.

You knew you were staring, knew Luca would be quick to catch on to what was happening if you did not get a hold of yourself, but it seemed that even the music and lights had faded in favor of the scene in front of you. It was hypnotizing, seeing her give in, seeing him take charge, knowing in your heart you should be there but never would be. Cheeks heating up, you turned back to Luca.

“I actually wouldn’t mind some company, if anyone here shares your opinion tonight.” Beaming, he hooked his arm with yours and took you straight to the bar to get a refill, which would inevitably end up spilled on the floor when he made you dance until you saw stars.

You don’t know how long you had danced for when he came to you. Hands sliding down your waist to your hips, his hot breath making the hairs on your neck dress up, you did not look up. You knew it wasn’t him. Because you knew how his hands felt from that one time he caught you from falling, because no man in their right mind would dance that way with their girlfriend’s friend in a crowded club, because it would never be your neck he buries his face in. But just for a few seconds, maybe minutes, you caught yourself hoping it was true, dreaming you would turn around and get a glimpse of green eyes before his lips crashed into yours. But the eyes were dark, the hair too blonde, the hands too soft. And yet you still let him kiss you, and when his slim fingers brought your dress higher on your buttcheeks, you even moaned in his mouth. Desperate was an understatement at this point.

“I’m going to put my fist so far up his ass he’ll be lucky if…” Alex’s sentence was cut short by Charles’ hand slamming against her face, flashing an apologetic smile to the friends they were chatting with and dragging her away. “Who even is that ? I’m going to get a bouncer to kick him out.” Charles had to tighten the grip on his arm to finally get her to look at him.

“Calm. Down.” This seemed to only piss her off more, but before she could start another rant, this time aimed at her boyfriend, he grabbed her by the neck and kissed her, giving him the advantage of surprise to then speak in her ear. “I know. But love, just look around you. At least half of this party knows us. I’m not sure punching a guy flirting with…” Unsure of how to call you to appease Alex, he opted for simplicity. “Y/N, and making a scene like a jealous wife is the best way to get her back.”

She sighed, head rubbing against the palm of his hand, before raising her doe eyes at him. “Then do it, Charles.” Getting closer to him, Alexandra brought her lips to his, her breath intoxicating like syrupy almonds. “Everyone knows you. Everyone loves you. Who would even dare to say something to Mr. Golden Boy.” Fluttering her eyelashes, she knew exactly how to get him. Sweet as honey, sharp as glass. “Why don’t you be a good boy and go fetch her for me, hm Charlie ?” He only managed to nod pathetically, his whole body aching to get on his knees and have her sit on his face.

The tension in his muscles was still present by the time he got to the bar stool where you were sitting, and he thought he might actually end up smashing the guy’s face against the counter. You were laughing like he had never heard before, the kind of sultry giggles that belonged to cab rides and hotel hallways, only an invitation for the hand already sat on your thigh to go up further. He barely had time to think of consequences, and you to realize he was standing behind you, before his hand fell to the guy’s shoulder, and he started speaking in his ear. The music was too loud, you were getting really drunk, so when the man’s eyes got wide, and he apologized before leaving in a hurry, you were unable to guess what Charles could have told him.

“I’m sorry, doll…” It wasn’t the first time he called you that, yet everytime it left your heart pulsing, and your core aching for more. You felt your legs wobble as he slid between them. “Seems he wasn’t interested in much more than a quick fling.” His fingers ran up your thigh and you almost fell the dig of a nail, before he took the hem of your dress and brought it back down to its usual length. The exhale that came out of your mouth felt like the first one in hours. “And you’re worth more than quick, aren’t you ?” At this moment, no, you weren’t worth more than that, you were yearning for someone to take your mind off the shitshow that was your heart, even if it meant bending over a bathroom sink for any nameless guy. But you smiled through the shivers and thanked him, even daring to put your hand on his. Everything was spinning, your ears were ringing, but he was smiling back at you, so maybe this evening wasn’t so bad. “Party’s over, let’s go home, doll.”

On the way back, Alex sat in the front of the car, but kept her hand on your knee the whole way, tracing small circles on your exposed skin. It almost seemed to you that with every sharp breath you took, you saw her smile in the car’s mirrors, but you fell asleep without being sure.

Even Charles was annoyed now. Maybe he could buy you a leash, make sure you were never straying too far. A tag too, so that you wouldn’t get lost. One with his name etched into the metal, just so there’d be no doubt. Just so that everyone knew who you belonged to. Would you be good ? Obedient ? He barely managed to get back to reality before his face got as red as his suit. Knee bouncing restlessly, his eyes were unable to leave you, bent over his car as a mechanic showed you his seat. If he could see you, it meant everyone could. And that was starting to get on his nerves.

“Sorry I found a pretty one” Alex whispered, sliding up behind him, her voice a low hum of amusement against his ear. “Sometimes I wish I could lock her up too…”

“I mean you could.” Charles knew he was fucking up. The words had tumbled out before he could stop himself, the implication behind heavy with something he would not dare to name. He knew his girlfriend had been teetering on the edge lately, and that any idea fueling her possessiveness would be considered, no matter how immoral. He knew he was supposed to be the voice of reason. Your soft way back to her, to them. Like the web to the spider. But this new mechanic he was definitely going to get fired was now making you try a headset, and he was playing with your hair, and the image of you getting yanked back to his feet was taking too much place in his brain. So when Alexandra stared at him, he simply shrugged, surrendering. “I don’t want her to stray too far when I’m on track. Who knows what could happen to her.”

When the free practice started, and Alexandra sent you to get her painkillers from the “infirmary”, you didn’t know what you were getting into. As the door locked behind you in the small storage room, you became painfully aware that you had no idea how this world worked. You had followed her instructions blindly, not really knowing anyone, and not wanting to cause trouble. And now you were banging on the door, feeling the air slowly get out of your lungs as the panic took over your body. There wasn’t any light in the room, and you could faintly hear the rumbles of the cars in the distance. Everyone was probably busy either watching or working on the track. No one would hear you scream, yet you begged for help with every bit of energy left in you.

Claustrophobia had been the fear you never got over. Taking stairs rather than elevators and walking over crowded buses, you had mostly managed on your own. But there you were, stuck in what seemed smaller than your bathroom at the residency, wondering if you were about to suffocate to death between tyre blankets and wires in Abu Dhabi. Charles had told you the practices lasted about an hour. But would you ? And even if your lungs hadn’t burnt from the thick air then, would someone find you right away ? Who could even come to look for you, in such a foreign place, with no friends other than two of the busiest people there could be this weekend ? Tears streaming down your face, you found yourself wishing you had never left their side. Maybe that would have been childish, but you would have been safe.

“Y/N ? Y/N are you in there ?” Anywhere in the world you would have recognized this voice. The only one that would understand your pain because she knew your fears. You screamed her name and heard rustling in the hallway. For a second when the door opened, she stood bathed in the clinical white lights, and you thought you had died. No angel would ever come close to such a vision. “Y/N ! Mon chou come here oh my god” She fell to her knees, opening her arms, and it felt like coming home. To hell with the physical distance, to hell with the principles. She had found you. She had saved you. Your head in her neck and her hands in your hair, you tightened your arms against her even when she gasped, but pulled you even closer. The tears falling down on your cheeks weren’t yours only, and you could barely make out what she was saying.

When the buzzing in your ears finally calmed down, she had cupped your face, whispering inches away from it. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you you’re safe. Please don’t leave me anymore. Please please please Y/N I beg you I got so scared, you weren’t coming back and I thought something had happened to you, it’s not safe here.” Rubbing your cheek with her thumb, she even kissed repeatedly your forehead as you could only nod, still crying. “Stay by my side, please never do that again. I thought I had lost you, I thought…”

You said yes, over and over again, apologizing as if it had been your fault, promising to be good like a prayer to a benevolent deity.

When Charles got out of the car and saw you holding Alex’s hand, your whole body twitching while she was beaming, he could not help but smirk. On a counter next to his phone, the keys to one of the storage rooms sat innocently, gleaming under the lights.

The weeks following the incident felt like a blur, as if your mind was slowly sinking into the mist of December mornings, and the last of your independence with it. Wherever you turned, Alexandra’s warmth and Charles’s steady hands were there, lingering at the edge of your vision, too close to be a coincidence.

But it was too comforting to not bathe in it. Your mind kept on replaying the moment your friend had found you in the storage room so many times it became a mantra, a balm to soothe the fear that still clawed at your thoughts at night. She found you. She saved you. She would never leave you. Charles too, after making a scene at the race and demanding the lack of safety in the infrastructure to be investigated, had made a point of shielding you from anything he deemed not safe. Which now that you were back in Monaco, seemed to be everything and everyone. You caught him glaring more than once at strangers, his body always carefully sliding between you and anyone who got too close.

Yet you had also been witness to the ugly side of fame since, the shadows it casted and the vultures it attracted, and trusted them to keep you away from it. All celebrities seemed to like their private life to stay, well… Private, and so when he brushed a stray hair from your face and told you he wouldn’t let any creep bother his dear friend, you believed him.

And truth be told, you loved the attention. That’s what you wished for, all you ever wanted, you told yourself as Alex braided your hair on the couch of the residency, Charles scrolling on his phone, his knee brushing absent-mindedly against yours. It was sweet, how they cared so much. Your roommates had given up on understanding, as long as the mood was not as icy as it had been the past month, they were fine with pretending nothing had ever happened. Life itself seemed to be so much easier with just them anyway. Why bother looking elsewhere, for what even ?

“I thought you were really cute, and I just wanted to give you my number, if you ever wanna go on a date.” The French accent snapped you out of your thoughts, and you nodded, blushing, as the barista winked at you. Your gaze immediately darted to the side, as if they’d be standing there, watching. But you had come alone, like stepping outside without a coat, not sure how you were now feeling about the decision. No matter what, it seemed their presence clung to you like a second skin.

They weren’t stopping you from dating, or making friends out of the internship. But it had been a while since you had thought about anyone else in that manner, and stepping out of the comfortable bubble you had built around the three of you now seemed like such an effort, on top of being scary. A voice in your head, your voice probably, even though it sounded too much like Alexandra’s, always ended up whispering : What else do you need that you don’t already have ?

The barista’s number scribbled on a napkin stayed untouched in your bag. Charles’ eyes had lingered too long on your phone screen one night, and when you mentioned in passing the way the uber driver had complimented your makeup, Alex had tilted her head just slightly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, her tongue brushing faintly against her canine. But they laughed it off, and you laughed with them, sinking into a soft net that felt more silk than cloud.

Had you been more careful, maybe you would have seen the signs. The way stuff in your bedroom seemed to change places, or even disappear. The deleted messages sent from your own phone, asking to be left alone, confirming you weren’t interested. The delicate touch of a hand on your arm, the oh-so-French kiss on the cheeks you always seemed to receive whenever a flirtatious wink was sent your way. But you had missed her, and you liked him so much, and for nothing in the world you would go back to a world where those weren’t your best friends. No matter how hard it was to fall asleep picturing them running their hands further than morality authorized.

As you lingered by Marco’s door, his bed still a wreck even though he had left a week ago, you couldn’t help but sigh. The house was so quiet, barely troubled by the faint swirl of wind in the garden. You thought you would like it this way. Even though it had been fun, living with seven other art students had been… Messy. Now everyone had gone home, and there was no need for fighting over the thermostat or Sunday mornings rush to get groceries anymore. Only the handmade decorations were left behind, like ghosts of their absence.

You couldn’t explain to yourself why you had resisted going home. On the phone with your mother, you had brushed it off with excuses about the time-consuming art pieces, the flights, and how it would be easier to stay. But when the clock struck midnight on the 22, and the thought of waking up alone for the next few days clawed at your chest, you booked the next available flight. You’d surprise your family. Sitting at the table and laughing at their jokes and going for a walk after lunch. You’d come home.

The morning of the 24th greeted you with hope, and then a storm. Nice’s airport’s fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows on the crowd’s disappointed faces as flight after flight turned red on the departure boards. You tried to stay calm, fiddling with a trinket tied to your bag, but when the announcement came that no flights would leave until the storm cleared, something inside you cracked. You were stuck. Not home. Not Monaco.

You stared at your phone, thumb hovering over Alexandra’s contact. You hadn’t told them you were leaving, hadn’t wanted to explain why the urge to run away, and why you were now desperately crawling back. The empty airport felt like punishment, and your fingers moved before you could second-guess yourself. Faced with her warm voice, the words tumbled out on their own. The storm. The canceled flights. The panic of the crowd slowly but surely spreading to you.

“You stay there, we’re coming to get you”. You barely had time to protest before the call ended.

When their car pulled up outside the terminal, the storm still raged, rain lashing against the windshield as Charles parked. Alex hopped out, an umbrella barely covering her as she ran to you, her sparkly short dress illuminating the pavement. “Oh, mon chou, you must be freezing,” she cooed, wrapping her coat around your shoulders and guiding you to the car.

Charles was waiting, heater blasting, his smile soft as he looked back at you from the driver’s seat. “You should’ve told us you were leaving,” he said, a hint of reproach softened by his tone.

You shrugged, sinking into the warmth of the car. “It was a last-minute thing.”

Alexandra clicked her tongue, clearly disapproving, as she slid in beside you. “At least you have your bag ready.” You barely had time to register what was happening as you saw Charles type in an address that was definitely not the residency. Before you could ask, his eyes met yours in the mirror.

“You’re not spending Christmas alone, doll. I called my mom on the way, so I hope you like oysters.” He broke eye contact as you opened your mouth to protest, his voice much lower, daring you to defy him. “Don’t argue with me, it’s already settled.”

Their idea of Christmas was something out of a dream. Charles’ family home in Monaco was decked out in soft lights and greenery, the smell of mulled wine and myriads of meals filling every corner. His family welcomed you with open arms, and Alexandra’s parents, who had joined as well, treated you with the delicate attention of pretending like your presence had always been planned.

The day went on as if you were stuck in the flow of a warm river, feeling the deep call you but unable to move a muscle to swim against it. You hadn’t been allowed to lift a finger, Charles steering you away from the kitchen when you offered to help, pressing a glass of wine in your hand instead. “Absolutely not. You’re a guest, Y/N. Relax.”

Everytime someone asked how you were enjoying the day, one of them was always quick to describe how “special” it was to have you here, and how glad they were to finally be able to introduce you. Their attention was always on you, always ready for any request you might have. What had become a natural habit, developing over the last few weeks, was now exacerbated under the glimmering lights, and the Christmas tree seemed to wink at you, knowingly, as if it was in on whatever elaborate spectacle Charles and Alexandra had orchestrated. Their care was overbearing but left no room for complaint. By the time dessert was served, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. An intricate figurine in a glass case, too precious to touch but constantly on display. Anytime Charles called for his doll, you got dizzier.

When everyone gathered around the fireplace to open their gifts, the cook gave you a knowing look and gestured at another glass of wine left on the kitchen counter, before swiftly exiting the room. You gladly took it and observed from afar the parade of extravagance. Designer clothes, limited-edition art pieces, concerts tickets in another country. If you thought your own Christmases back home were lavish, it was no comparison to the Leclerc’s.

“Here, mon chou.” Alexandra purred, pressing a carefully wrapped small box in your hand. “We planned on giving it to you next week but now’s even better.”

You hesitated, feeling your cheeks heat up as everyone turned to you. This was not planned. You did not have time to get either of them anything, even less their families. It all felt like a show you had never agreed on being a part of. “You really didn’t have to-”

“Open it.” Charles interrupted, his grin infuriating, dimples bigger than ever. He lounged back on the sofa, one ankle resting casually on his knee, his gaze fixed on you. With a brush of his hands, he pretended to swish away your worries. “We’ll go and change it if you don’t like it”.

The box revealed a delicate bracelet, platinum with tiny diamonds winking along its length. Sucking in a breath, you felt their eyes on you, expectant, hungry for your reaction. “It’s pretty, no ?” Alexandra’s voice was eager, her fingers brushing yours as she took the bracelet to clasp it around your wrist. It was too much. The alcohol made your head pound and you felt like throwing up. Raising your eyes, the guilt hit you like a wave. They had done so much for you, gone out of their way to include you, and you couldn’t even summon the gratitude they deserved ? The metal was biting into your skin as if in reprimand, your whole body feeling like fire since you had finished your glass. Taking a deep breath, you excused yourself to “freshen up”.

The low hum of voices faded as you found a quiet room in the labyrinth that was the house. This is what you’d always wanted, wasn’t it ? To be cared for, adored, treated like the most important person in the room ? Then why did it feel too much ? Why did it feel like drowning ? You thought back to October, and quickly recognized the signs of your love barging through the door, demanding the best place at the table. You couldn’t let either of them know you were back on your stupid feelings, or they would leave you again. And then ? You had seen the pain, for everyone involved. Good friends. Best friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. You exhaled, praying for your thoughts to shut up, concentrating on the wind outside.

It was Charles that came for you, sitting carefully next to you on the bed, as though you might shatter if he moved an inch wrong. Turning away from the frosted window, you murmured. “Just needed a breather.”

“I’m sorry.” Before you even had time to ask what for, he sighed, gesturing vaguely towards the door. “For all of this. We just wanted to make you feel welcome but… It’s obviously not working.” Running a hand through his hair, betraying his frustration, his other one went tentatively to yours, and your fingers laced together. “I can see you’re not enjoying this, and I know it will never be the same as being with your family.”

“Charles, I don’t-”

“I can arrange a plane.” He was rambling on, a habit they seemed to share, and in the soft light of the moon, you could swear his eyes were red. “First thing in the morning, have you be home before lunch. We love having you here, doll, but… I think it might have been selfish of us.” There. You had made him sad. He had made you feel like family and you had fled like a spoiled child. If anyone was selfish here, it was you.

“No !” You blurted, the word too loud, startling even yourself. Moving towards him on instinct, you threw yourself in his arms, hands gripping to his back, fingers curling against the smooth fabric of his sweater. He tilted his head, questioning, but you only buried your face against his chest. “I… I don’t want to leave. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed ungrateful. I didn’t mean to. It’s not too much, you’re not too much. You could never be. I’ll try harder, I’ll appreciate it more, I’m sorry I-” It seemed the habit had also infected you, and your monologue was stopped by Charles’ thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“Shhh” The hand that was in your back went up to your head, softly rubbing your hair, as you lost yourself in his eyes. Were those freckles or just beauty spots ? Had those always been here ? You felt tempted to touch them but froze up when your lips opened up on instinct. Seriously, how many drinks did you have ? “You don’t have to apologize. I just want you to feel welcomed and… Appreciated.” The moment stretched, world narrowing to the warmth of his arms and the pulse of your heart as he opened your mouth even more and slid his thumb past your lips, your teeth, and to rest against your tongue. “And loved.” His gaze was fixated on your lips, and for a brief moment, until footsteps were heard in the hallway, you thought he was going to kiss you, or maybe slap you. You wouldn’t have protested either.

His lips went to brush softly against your forehead, and it took every last ounce of self-control in you to not bite down on his thumb as he took it out of your mouth. His fingers traced down your cheek, your jaw, down to your neck, where he softly closed his fingers around your throat as the moan that had been stuck in there was finally let free. You wanted this moment to last forever, almost wished he would choke you out so you would never have to go back to reality. But something snapped suddenly in his eyes, and he ruffled at your hair before standing up with a confidence that made you question if the moment had truly happened, or if the cook had spiked your drink. In the white light of the night, his finger shined briefly with saliva, and you followed him back to the living room like a dog who had gotten the sweetest treat.

The floor length mirror stared back at you, unkind in its honesty. You leaned in as Alexandra gently titled your chin up with her fingertips, her voice humming as she added the finishing touches to your makeup. The sharpness of your features seemed amplified under their bedroom golden light, and your reflection felt foreign. Maybe it was the week, and its endless swirl of champagne, parties, and faces you couldn’t remember. Or maybe it was the memory of Christmas Eve, and its almost-kiss which kept replaying in your mind like a broken record you didn’t have the strength to discard.

Charles hadn’t mentioned it. Not a word. The morning after, his smile came on as easy as ever, his voice smooth and jokes easy, as if nothing had happened. Alex had thrown herself onto him, bathing him in affection, as though your world hadn’t turned upside down in that hidden room. Even now, as his hands brushed against your shoulders, slipping the straps of your too-short dress into place, you were wondering if you hadn’t dreamed it all.

“Stop squirming” He teased, smoothing out the fabric and pulling up the zipper.

Alexandra laughed and stepped back to inspect her work, two fingers still holding your chin. “She’s not squirming, she’s just nervous.”

“Il y a pas de quoi être stressé, c’est le Nouvel An, pas une gardav’ non plus…” Not understanding the slang, you copied your friend’s reaction, and as she clicked her tongue, you rolled your eyes.

You felt like an imposter. How could you have let it get this far ? You were supposed to go back to being friends, that was the deal. Not over complicating things, not pushing boundaries of what they were giving you. But then every time one of their friends got curious about you, Alexandra would say you were “Just someone special”, her casual voice contrasting with her nails scratching on your thigh. Her eyes would flicker, the kind that warned you not to correct her, and you let yourself get locked up in this almost-relationship that you had so desperately tried to escape a few weeks before.

Reaching for the curling iron, she murmured, more observation than question. “You’ve been quiet today.”

“Just tired, I guess… We’ve gone out a lot this week.” You forced a laugh, aiming for nonchalance, but Charles simply raised a brow, not impressed.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can just stay there, order some food, …”

You cut him off by twirling on yourself, the dress flaring so high it couldn’t have been conceived to cover anything. Alexandra groaned and caught you by the shoulders to steady you, apparently not satisfied with your curls. “When I look like that ? It would be such a waste !” The green-eyed boy chuckled and nodded in agreement. Dressed to perfection, your hair soft and shining, you looked exactly like what they wanted you to be : a doll. And truth be told, you enjoyed it. When he kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and they both looked at you with something that could be pride, you knew you owed it to them to have fun, at least tonight, at least the following months. At least until England called you back and you answered, leaving your summer love to rest on the green hills. You owed it to them to pretend you weren’t haunted by the ghost of “almost”, and maybe you could even pretend long enough to end up believing it yourself.

“Close it, you’re going to swallow a fly.” Charles pushed softly on your chin to close your mouth you had left wide in awe, before rubbing the nape of his neck. “Much funnier in French…” He mumbled before leaving his keys to a valet, and opening the way for you and Alexandra. The mansion was huge, its garden spilling to the edge of the woods behind it, and the music pulsing through the air carried promises of a night you might not remember in the morning.

It seemed everyone who knew a Formula 1 driver, directly or indirectly, had been invited. Some faces you recognized, but most not, and the shower of compliments you found yourself in as soon as you stepped foot in the main living room quickly felt suffocating. The polite flirting made you feel uneasy, their admiration like scrutiny, and before you even had time to cling to your anchors, they drifted away. “I’ll be right back, chou.” Charles’ hand brushed briefly against yours before he followed his girlfriend to go greet some friends, and you stayed right where they left you.

No matter how much you repeated your internal calming mantra, the vulnerability was creeping in. There were too many people you didn't know, and so you made it a mission to not lose again the only two that mattered. When they asked if you were having fun, you nodded, the lie automatic. For the following hours, it turned to truth, as you stuck close to them like a guard dog unwilling to stray too far from its leash. If Charles moved to refill a drink, you downed yours too quickly to follow. If Alexandra drifted to another conversation, your hand clung to her elbow, begging to tag along. You weren’t proud of it, but the dread clawed at your chest every time you stood alone for more than a heartbeat. You were enjoying yourself as long as you weren’t left to your own devices. Long gone was the resolution of making new friends, it seemed.

The air in the house had been filled with tension as midnight approached, and you felt like you had suddenly woken up. A glass of something golden in your hand, its fizz long forgotten, you were nodding along to Pierre’s story about an incident on a recent trip, while his girlfriend Kika hung onto his arm, punctuating his tale with playful jabs. You tried to listen, you really did, but something was missing, and you couldn’t help but give in to the voices bothering your every thought as he wrapped up his story.

“Have you seen Charles ? Or Alex…?”

Kika’s lips curled, mischief in her eyes, and she exchanged a look with Pierre who chuckled. “They’ve probably gone to enjoy the view, as usual.”

“Top floor,” Kika added, still giggling as she sipped her cocktail. “There’s a balcony up there that’s quite… Private.”

Mumbling a quick excuse, you set your glass down and slipped away, through the maze of guests and corridors of the sprawling mansion. The thud in your ears was soon more heartbeat than music, the knot in your stomach tightening between unease and anticipation. When you reached the top floor, the door to the bedroom was ajar, dim light coming from within and spilling onto the hallway. You closed it behind you, breath stuck in your throat.

There they were. Alexandra’s back was pressed against the railing, her sequined dress shimmering in the moonlight as Charles leaned into her. His hands rested on either side of her waist, fingers curling possessively over the iron, as he brought one knee up between her legs, silencing her laugh. He was working down her throat when she opened her mouth, eyes fixed on you, but did not stop kissing and biting, seemingly not caring.

“Oh darling, caught us” She purred, her voice thick with amusement. Her manicured finger pointed at you before curling, inviting you to come closer. You should not. You should flee. This was not your moment, it would never be. Also, you should keep a closer eye on your drinks because someone was definitely having fun drugging you lately, no way any of this was true. But your feet moved before your brain was done having a panic attack, and you found yourself gently pushed in the woman’s arms by Charles.

She probably saw your eyes jumping from one to the other, thoughts racing behind them at light speed, and with each hand on your cheeks, centered you back to her face. This felt like deja-vu, your lips so close, your perfume swirling together, like the wish you had screamed to the moon that night was finally becoming true, only a few months too late.

“I’m sorry.” Oh no. Oh not again. You were about to jump out of her embrace when you felt his body behind yours, closing back on both of you as his hands caught on the guardrail once more. “Stay. Please.” Not like you had much of a choice anyway. Charles was looking down at the garden over her shoulder, badly pretending as if he wasn’t inches away from the most private conversation happening tonight. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize what was going on between us. And I’m sorry I hurt you in the process. You deserve the world, not any of the mess I put you through. I hope one day you’ll forgive me.” She was already forgiven, how could she not when her apologies were whispered between your lips. “But I know where I stand now. And if you allow me, I’ll never give you less than the world. Because that’s what you deserve. Because you love me and I love you.”

“Ten !” Charles took a step to the side as the screams from downstairs echoed through the whole house. He leaned on the balcony, and you almost fell to the floor from the shaking in your legs. “Nine !” She caught you by the waist and pulled you back to her with a laugh, one so hesitant it could only be filled with honesty.

“Eight !” You were dreaming. You wanted to punch yourself to wake up, but without even knowing how, your hands had gone up to her arms, shoulders, neck, cheek. “Seven !” You had promised yourself, you had promised her, and Chiara, and the world itself, that you would be fine being just friends. “Six !” Why was she the one ruining all of your efforts ? Why was she still the one you would wait for, when everyone else was long gone ?

“Five !” Was Charles just going to stand there, and pretend like his girlfriend didn’t confess to someone else ? “Four !” Maybe they had talked ? Maybe they had been open this whole time and you hadn’t seen the signs ? Would he kiss you too ? “Three !”

You cupped her cheeks and it felt like the world exploded when your lips met. Or maybe it was just the fireworks. Maybe it was the culmination of months of pining, love and pain, that was giving her kiss a taste of blood, a taste of more. She switched your places, pinning you against the barrier and deepened the kiss as your hands tugged at her hair, undoing the curls she had so carefully crafted. Everyone was screaming for the New Year, but you felt like they were doing it for you. Is that how it felt, to love and be loved ? Like you would rather run out of oxygen than end the moment. Like teeths and tongues, being fourteen and messy all over again. Like a movie-worthy compilation of every smile she had flashed you for the last four months was playing behind your closed eyes.

When you opened them, her mouth now running wild on your jaw, it’s a green spark of amusement that was looking back at you, a slow whistle coming out of his dry lips. Shit. You had kissed his girlfriend. Or his girlfriend had kissed you. And he wasn’t moving to join in. Were you about to be thrown from the highest balcony in some sick kind of real-life Cluedo ? But he simply brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, and the small caress he gave to Alexandra’s back made her moan against your collarbones. “Les clés sont sur la porte mon amour.” She mumbled what you understood to be thank you, not sure why for, as he moved towards the door.

“Wait Charlie I’m…” It was difficult to talk with Alex, determined to kiss every inch of visible skin on your body, and there was a lot. “I’m sorry I… What’s happening ?” You could only hope they had not broken up, not because of you, yet you saw no world in which this situation would be acceptable for him. With his usual playful grin you had grown so fond of, he winked at you before exiting the room swiftly.

“There’s a time for actions, and a time for explanations. Happy New Year, doll.”

With every step that she took you followed, painfully aware of how much she knew you, much better than you would have thought. Kissing in all the right places, her grin was getting wider every time you winced under the dig of her sharp nails, and she hushed you as if the drunken screams downstairs weren’t covering your moans. But you were determined to be good, as you had been from day one, and so you bit the pillow and pulled at her hair, let her know it hurts and let her keep going, because you loved her and she loved you. And she would never leave you.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Taglist : @sam-is-lost // @mangotaitai // @ilovechickenwings // @eroselless // @zreads111 // @crimson-spine // @inejismywife // @champomiel // @eternoange1 // @charizznorizz // @exactlycoralfox // @waitwhendidwegethere // @cluelessred3 // @spookystitchery // @erikasurfer // @catswag22 // @appl3-0rchard // @janeh22 // @boohoneyy // @sheslikeacurse // @customsbyjcg-blog // @urmotheris // @lewisvinga // @formulaal // @novocainenoon // @taytaylala12 // @esterdnebe // @jack0357 // @mortallyblueninja // @jexxy04 // @itsprashimusic // @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp // @annabellelee // @natsmywife // @daisyfreecs // @scorpiomindfuck // @themessietbihalive // @ananyasr1bughead

[rafesangelita]

🍪; lover, you should have come over by jeff buckley

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 “sometimes a man must awake to find that really he has no one. so i’ll wait for you, love.”— in which rafe never took your relationship seriously when he had you, so you left the island in hopes of starting new. however, you’re back one year later, and this time you’re both on the same page.

warnings: second chance au, implied age gap, lots of talk about marriage and having kids, angst, time skip, rafe is pretty regretful in this one

a/n: this couldn’t have been a more perfect request! i’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while now. left this one on a little cliffhanger, pls don’t hate me </3 buttttt if requested enough, i’m completely open to making a part two!

rafe knew the night you left him without a word, he was the one entirely at fault. he knew deep down there was only so much you could take before you’d have to realize he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted more than anything else, and that was serious commitment. despite you being slightly younger than him, you valued the more serious, traditional side of things. while rafe was thinking about where he would take you to dinner next, you were wondering if your babies would have his blue eyes.

refusing to be the one to initiate that kind of conversation with him, you held your tongue and enjoyed the time you had with him until your heart couldn’t take it anymore. the final straw for you was when you two were laying together the way you always did post-sex, and rafe revealed to you that marriage would never be in the cards for him. he claimed that he was too much of a possessive person to share you with anyone else, let alone children, and you swore your heart broke in two.

“you don’t want to get married.. like ever?” you gazed up at him with those fucked out eyes of yours, just hoping he wouldn’t say the words that would give you confirmation to let him go. “no. i know a lot of people say this, but it’s true; marriage is just a piece of paper.” that night, you remembered every curve and detail of his face, forever engraving his image in your head as you silently slipped out of tanneyhill and didn’t look back. you cried. oh, god, you cried so much. apart of you felt like going back and erasing all desire of marriage and family and just indulge in what you and rafe had, but in no world would that work.

rafe woke up that morning, feeling a profound sense of emptiness he didn’t expect to feel without you near. he recalled the way you looked at him before he fell asleep, like you were never going to see him again. panic set in, his feet moving before he could think. he called your name out, checking every room and bathroom before the harsh reality hit him like a ton of bricks. he called your phone, throwing his own when an automated message said the line had been deactivated.

rafe was in denial the first week. he was sure you’d turn up somehow, somewhere, and wrap your arms around his shoulders while planting kisses on his neck, but you never came. that didn’t stop him from looking for you any chance he got, hoping, pleading that he’d bump into you somewhere and you’d go home with him. when he caught word that you had left the island altogether, he felt hurt, betrayed. how could someone as sweet and soft, and so precious as yourself just vanish without warning?

he didn’t understand, not being able to wrap his head around the fact that you felt like you had to run from him. you were the only thing he had on this god forsaken island. his family, his friends, no one truly knew him like you did. no one recognized his efforts to be a better man, no one comforted him, loved him. he spent his days focused on work, completely shutting everyone out. he was filled with regret, and it was your absence that made him realize marriage was so much more than a legal document.

it was vowing to never take that person for granted, it was carving your love in a stone of history, it was a sacred promise to never leave one another, a sacred promise that he so badly wished to have another chance at. before he knew it, an entire year had passed and just like you, there was nothing he wanted more than a family of his own. scratch that, he didn’t just want it. he dreamt about it, yearned for it just as much as he yearned for you. what he didn’t know, was that it wouldn’t be long until you showed up at his door.

[sacklerscumrag]

Metalhead Next Door

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Notes: hello :) i got the sudden urge to write for eddie munson today for some reason lol

i'm apologizing in advance for how bad it probably is. please keep in mind that i havent written anything in a long time, let alone for eddie

but if you do read it for whatever reason, thank you i love you im giving you a big kiss rn <3

Warnings: neighbors to lovers, jealous!reader, pining, oral sex (f receiving)

Word Count: 1.4K

A loud rumble from a run-down truck rang outside your trailer window, jolting you from sleep. The book you abandoned some hours ago slid off your chest as you sat on the bed to peek outside. Snow continued to fall and hardened on the window sill from earlier that morning, each flake a silent whisper against the palm of your hand as you held it out in the icy air. Metal music blared through the familiar window across from yours, drawing your attention toward the warm glow coming from inside. An overpowering scent of weed lingered between the two trailers—something you'd found comfort in within the last couple of months of living next door to the Munsons. Of course, you'd heard the rumors where Eddie was concerned, and you'd have to be blind not to see how people treated him around here. Everyone ignored him, wrote him off as a freak while telling the tale of the long-haired devil-worshiping drug dealer to anyone who would listen. But after almost a year of living next to Eddie, you realized that couldn't be further from the truth.

The first night, Eddie crept up on your front porch when you weren't looking, making himself comfortable on the wooden staircase, offering whatever joint he was nursing—all leather jacket and wild hair with a grin that could warm you to your core if you let yourself admire him for a little too long. Since then, you'd meet Eddie outside once everyone had gone to bed and let his wild D&D stories carry you through the night. The world around you seemed to soften around Eddie, swallowed up by the relentless comfort of his presence. Even when he was gone, one last tiny blaze of warmth and light continuously flickered in your chest for him.

The night air was crisp, making you cling to your blanket that much tighter as you curled up in bed. You nearly jumped when you heard a thump against your bedroom window, a snowball crumbling as another landed against the window pane.

"You're not gonna make me wait out here until I freeze, are you?" Eddie's voice trickled in from outside, making you smile before quickly opening the window and letting him climb in. "It's fucking freezing out there. Hey, sweetheart." Your heart warmed at the nickname as he brushed past you, flopped down on your mattress, and picked up your abandoned book. His hair looked like he'd run his hand through it far too many times today; the snow still crunched as he crossed one boot over another as scattered icicles clung to his jacket's leather and denim patches.

"Well, it's no D&D book, but-." Eddie teased before you cut him off by snatching the book, placing it on your bedside table, and settling beside him. He smirked, clearly pleased with himself for getting to you so quickly.

"So what's new with you, Munson?" You said as you sank next to him, sneaking glances whenever he wasn't looking.

"Same shit, different day. I learned a new Metallica song last week, gonna play it at our gig."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll play it for you sometime." You smiled at that. "Oh shit, I was supposed to call Dustin." Eddie dramatically sat up on your bed and sighed.

"Dustin? Was it important?"

"Yeah, sort of; he's been trying to set me up with this girl. Or was it Steve setting me up? All I know is I went out with her last week, and now I gotta be at Family Video tomorrow at 6 to pick out a movie for whatever the fuck a double date movie night is." Your heart sank. Eddie was being set up; he was dating someone. And it wasn't you. Figures. He would never see you as more than a friend; all you ever did was hang out and talk about D&D; he could do that with any of his other friends. This shouldn't surprise you, but that didn't make it sting any less than it did.

"Hey, you okay?" Eddie noticed your silence amidst his rambling. You were seemingly lost in your thoughts as you toyed with your fingers. Something had shifted; your warm presence from just a minute ago felt frigid and distant.

"Yeah." You wiped the tears welling in your eyes and stood from the bed, suddenly needing to put as much distance between you as possible. "Just tired, I'm just gonna go to bed." The mere thought of Eddie snuggling up on a couch with some girl made your chest feel like it would cave in any second. You quickly turned toward your window to open it, unable to face him without fear of bursting into tears.

"Sweetheart, if I did something to piss you off, I'm sorry."

"You didn't just please…I want to go to bed." Your tone was firmer than Eddie had ever heard from you. He should go, head out through the window, and call it a night. But he couldn't. "Please." Your voice slightly cracked, and with it, a piece of Eddie's heart at the realization. When you managed to turn around, his chest was inches from your face, tenderness filling those big, brown, beautiful eyes darting back at you. His ring-clad hand cupped your cheek, skimming over your skin delicately like you would break under his touch.

Before you knew it, your mouth was on his. Your arms around his neck; he tasted like cigarettes and mint from the gum he anxiously chewed before you came in. It was intoxicating. Chills spread across your skin when his hands slid across your waist, pressing you closer to him. It didn't take long for Eddie's need for you to become apparent with feverish hands pushing you back until the desk bumped against your ass; Eddie tapped your thigh to signal you to sit on the hard surface, standing in between your legs and trailing his lips down to your neck and chest. Your hands tangled in his curls, breathing in as much of him as possible before he pulled away slightly.

"Eddie." You paused, studying his face for a moment; face flushed, hair tussled, and lips swollen and pink from your own; he was perfect. "I'm sorry. I should've told you how I felt, I-. Eddie's lips interrupted you with a searing but brief kiss as he spoke against your lips.

"Don't you dare apologize. I've been waiting so fucking long for this." A smile spread across your face, and relief flooded your chest. You tugged on his vest to draw him back to your lips as his hands began to knead your thighs, core clenching at the feeling. Whimpers escaped you from just his lips on your skin. His mouth worked its way along your neck, lifting your shirt and continuing to work his way down until he was kneeling before you.

"Can I?" You nodded as Eddie's ring-clad fingers hooked onto your shorts, pulling them off and discarding them on the floor along with your underwear. He hooked one leg over his shoulder and kissed the delicate skin of your inner thigh. "God, you have no idea how bad I've needed to taste you." Your breath hitched when you felt his tongue begin expertly working along your folds, then back toward your clit. It wasn't long before he slipped a finger inside you, then another. The chill of his rings pressing on your most sensitive spots as he plunged them in and out of you had you arching your back and squeezing your thighs tighter around Eddie. Your chest heaved; every whimper and moan that escaped was like music to his ears. Eddie consumed you like a man starved; it was like the more pleasure he drew from you, the more he wanted. He couldn't get enough. He teased your clit between his lips and began to suck hard. Eddie's movements were relentless. Your eyes screwed shut, and your core tightened until it snapped. Eddie's hand dug into the flesh of your hips to hold you in place as you squirmed against him until you were practically pushing him away. He could see the blissed look on your face as he stood and wrapped your legs around his waist, carrying you over to bed. Once you were settled, Eddie stepped toward the still-open window.

"Don't go," you whispered; a pang of fear hit you. Eddie smirked to himself before shutting the window securely, throwing his jacket on your nightstand, and crawling in beside you.

"Don't worry, sweetheart." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

[storiesforallfandoms]

herogasm ~ soldier boy;the boys

word count: 3678

request?: no

description: in which she’s trying to leave the supe orgy, just to stumble into the room of the man who started it

pairing: soldier boy x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (fingering, praise, unprotected p in v), mentions of herogasm (the event, not the episode)

masterlist (one, two, three)

I didn’t want to be there. There was a number of reasons why, but the most prominent one was definitely that I did not want to be involved in an orgy full of Supes.

My best friend, Maria, had convinced me to come. I had gone through a pretty hard breakup that left me basically inconsolable for days. I only left the house to go to work, and even then I was very much just operating on autopilot. Maria wanted to get me out of the house, so she came over and told me she had gotten an invite to some big Supe party and intended to take me with her to get my mind off of things.

She didn’t tell me until we showed up that the “party” was the infamous Supe orgy known as “Herogasm”.

Apparently, Maria had hooked up with a Supe who had an in to the party. She got the invite and thought an orgy would be the perfect idea to get me over my breakup. There was just one little flaw in her plan: I was not an orgy person. I was insecure enough about my body that I felt awkward being naked in front of one person, let alone an entire house full of strangers. Supe strangers at that.

Maria abandoned me the minute we walked through the door, taken by the Supe she fucked to get here. I was left, on my own in the corner, while a lot of naked people walked or fucked around me. A couple glanced in my direction, one even tried to proposition me, which I politely declined. I wasn’t sure how long I was stood there before everything became overwhelming. I needed to get away from all those people. I needed to be somewhere with no moaning or screaming or sex noises. Somewhere that I could calm myself down before I left.

I stumbled through the house, feeling my heart pounding harder and harder with every overwhelming second that passed. Behind almost every door I could hear more moaning and squelching. It felt like there was no true escape from it - there was even people fucking outside - until I turned the knob on a door that led to a seemingly empty room. I stumbled in, slamming the door behind me and sliding down it until I was sat on the floor. I brought my knees up to my chest and rested my head against my knees.

“Well, hello there.”

I jumped at the sudden sound of someone’s voice. I looked up to see I had hidden myself away in a bedroom. The main bedroom, I concluded, judging by the huge size of the room, the bed, and the fact there was a mini bar in the corner of the room. A mini bar with a man stood behind it. A very handsome man in nothing but a silk robe.

“Shit,” I sighed. “I’m sorry, I - ”

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said. “Judging by the fact that you still have clothes on, you’re not here for the orgy.”

I shook my head. “One of my friends brought me here. She didn’t even tell me what it was until we pulled up.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment before stepping away from the mini bar. I tensed up as he got closer to me. I was trying to figure out if I’d get out fast enough when he reached me. He reached over me and turned the lock on the knob.

“Stay as long ad you want,” he told me. “Not that anyone usually comes in unannounced anyways. I think you’re the first person to stumble into my room in years.”

My eyes widened as he started walking away. “Y-Your room? So...you’re the host here?”

He turned back and raised an eyebrow at me. “You serious?” I nodded. “I created this whole fuckin’ thing. Herogasm is my baby.”

That’s when it finally clicked. “Holy shit, you’re Soldier Boy!”

He grinned at me before he took a sip of his drink.

I couldn’t believe it. I had stumbled into the room of the most famous Supe in the entire world and I didn’t even recognize him at first! God, this couldn’t get any more embarrassing.

“You don’t have to huddle up by the door like a scared kid,” he said. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I wasn’t sure if I could take his word for it. I knew he was a Supe and all, and Supes were supposed to protect people, but he did have me locked in his room, while he was naked no less. Well, besides a robe. I’d be helpless against him if he did decide he wanted to hurt me.

Despite knowing this, I still slowly got to my feet. He was pouring up another glass as I walked further into his giant room. It was like the size of my living room and kitchen combined. I was in awe of it so much that I could hear Soldier Boy chuckling to himself. He extended a glass to me and gestured to the bed. I took the glass, hesitantly, and sat down.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Bourbon,” he responded. “Some of the best shit money can buy.”

I wasn’t much of a drinker. I could smell the strong, alcoholic scent before even raising the glass to my lips. I took a small sip and immediately cringed at the stinging feeling that ran down my throat. Soldier Boy laughed.

“That’s God awful,” I groaned.

“You just don’t appreciate fine alcohol,” he said.

“I appreciate it when it doesn’t taste like battery acid,” I retorted. “What are you doing in here, anyways? If you created this...thing, shouldn’t you be partaking?”

He grunted and took another mouthful of his own drink. I figured that was the best I would be getting from him.

“How did you get in?” he asked. “It’s invite only, and usually the only non-Supes invited are hookers.”

I looked down at my glass again, debating on taking another sip. “My friend hooked up with a Supe who gave her the invite. She lied at the door and told them I had been invited, too.”

“Then she ditched you?”

I nodded. “Probably getting her pussy super-stretched as we speak.”

That made him laugh. I felt some sense of pride at that. The most famous Supe in the world was laughing at my jokes. That had to be bragging rights.

“Sounds like a shit friend, then,” he commented.

“No, she is a good friend. She’s very...sexually liberated. This type of thing is very up her alley. Me, not so much.”

“Then why did she take you here?”

I gazed down at the glass of auburn liquid. The memory of my recent breakup brought back all my negative emotions. With one swift gulp, I finished the contents of the glass. I shuddered as it burned down my throat.

“My boyfriend of four years dumped me,” I said. “Just woke up one day and told me he didn’t feel the same way anymore. After we had just moved in together a few months prior.”

Soldier Boy whistled. “That sounds rough.”

“It was the worst fucking day of my life,” I muttered. “Maria, my friend, I guess she thought a super-sex party would be the best way to get me to move on. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, and all that.”

“That never works. Trust me.”

Oh, there was a story there. I could tell. One that was probably connected to the reason he wasn’t participating in his own orgy. Normally, I wouldn’t pry. I didn’t know Soldier Boy. He would probably forget all about me once I left his room. But the bourbon was starting to get to me. I found myself leaning forward, close enough that I could smell his aftershave.

“What happened?” I asked him. “What made you not want to participate in Herogasm?”

He looked at me. I could tell he was debating on telling me. I wasn’t sure if I should push the issue further than those questions, even if my curiosity was getting the best of me.

Finally, he sighed and said, “My girl left me because of one of these things.”

Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. I couldn’t even remember who Soldier Boy’s “girl” was in that moment.

“We used to host together,” he explained. “Once a year, we would allow each other to fuck whoever we wanted at Herogasm. One night, one meaningless orgy, and that was it. Then, a few years back, she comes to me the day after Herogasm and she tells me that she met someone that night. I don’t know, I guess they talked in between the fucking or some shit. She dumped me on the spot for the guy. Took all of her shit and left that same day.”

Okay, definitely a lot worse than my sob story. My ex completely shattered my heart, sure, but he didn’t leave me for someone else. Especially not someone that he fucked in our own house, during a party that we were hosting together. Even if they had an agreement that they could sleep around during Herogasm, that was a huge hit to trust. One that I don’t think I would’ve ever gotten over in his shoes.

“Since then, I haven’t participated,” he continued. “I’ll host, since it’s my creation, but I usually just walk around, make sure everything is going okay and everyone is having a good time, then I hide away in here until everyone gets too tired from the fucking and either leaves or falls asleep.”

“Why keep hosting it if you don’t want to participate anymore?” I asked. “Why not hand it off to someone else?”

“Because it’s my thing. I created it, and it got bigger than I could’ve ever imagined. I thought about cancelling it after Countess left me, but it’s become this huge thing to Supes and their groupies. I don’t want to disappoint anyone by cancelling it, and I wouldn’t want anyone else stealing it from me and making it a shit version of what it used to be.”

Before I could respond, there was a bang against his door. We both jumped and turned towards the door. Judging by the rhythmic beating on the door and the shouts of pleasure, it was just a couple that had decided to use Soldier Boy’s door as another fuck place. I chuckled and turned back to him. My laughter died out, though, once I realized how close we had gotten to one another. My face was mere inches away from his. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face. The closeness made my heart start pounding a little harder.

The alcohol had definitely kicked in because I did something that was very unlike me in that moment: I leaned forward and kissed him.

He was receptive right away. His free hand moved to hold the back of my head. His lips moved perfectly in time with mine. His tongue slid against my lower lip, asking permission for entrance, and I gave it to him. I let my empty glass fall to the floor, luckily the fall being cushioned by a rug next to his bed, while he placed his on the nightstand next to the bed without breaking our kiss. In one swift movement, he moved me so that I was straddling his lap, not once breaking our kiss.

His hands explored my body, running down the sides of my torso, to my hips, then over my ass. He grabbed the meaty flesh there, rocking my hips forward unintentionally (or maybe it was intentional) against him. His cock was growing hard and I could feel that the tip was starting to peak out from his robe. Suddenly, I felt very overdressed compared to him, and I wanted to change that.

I broke away and Soldier Boy watched with lust filled eye as I pulled my shirt over my head and discarded it onto the floor. I stood from his lap to unbutton my jeans and let them fall to the floor. I stepped out of them and stood in front of him, just in my lingerie. Realizing how naked I was, I felt a little shy suddenly. Like I wanted to cover myself up or make all the light in the room disappear so that he couldn’t see me. But when he pulled me forward again, standing me between his open legs, and leaned forward to start kissing over the exposed skin of my stomach, the insecurities melted away into desire again.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Don’t you dare think of hiding this beautiful body away from me.”

I was shocked that he knew what I was thinking, but I didn’t have time to figure out how he knew. His hands were on me again, pulling me down onto his lap and then quickly turning the two of us so that I was laying beneath him on the bed. I could feel him pressing against my inner thigh as he kissed me again, a pool of wetness starting to fill in my panties.

He moved one hand between my legs, opening them up for him, and ran his finger over the clothed material. I gasped and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth again.

“You’re already so wet,” he noted. “How long has it been since you were touched?”

The answer was a bit embarrassing. That probably should’ve been the first sign that my relationship was going downhill, but I was too naïve to notice that we hadn’t been having sex. Or maybe just too blind to the downfalls of my relationship.

When I didn’t answer, he pulled my panties to the side and slid a finger into me. The sudden protruding felt painful at first. I dug my nails into his arms hard, but didn’t leave any marks or didn’t seem to hurt him in any way. He slowly started thrusting his finger in an out of me until the pain turned to pleasure, and then he added a second finger.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he commented. “That asshole must not have stretched this pussy out in a long time. Either that, or he had a microdick.”

His fingers gained speed. I could hear them becoming wetter and wetter every time he thrusted them inwards. I was well beyond cloud nine, probably cloud twenty at this rate. Whenever I opened my eyes all I could see was stars, and Soldier Boy’s face watching me as I came undone beneath him. He was an expert in ways I could only dream of, reaching places I didn’t even know could feel so good. He had me on the edge of my orgasm, when suddenly the pleasure was ripped away as he pulled his fingers from me.

I whined, trying to reach for him to get the feeling back. But he pulled away from me, putting the two fingers covered in my slick into his mouth and sucking them dry.

“You taste just as sweet as I thought you would,” he said.

“Please,” was all I could manage. It almost sounded pathetic how desperate I sounded.

He smirked down at me. “I’ll give you what you want. I just want you to cum on my dick instead of on my fingers.”

He sat up and untied his robe, throwing it to the floor along with the other discarded clothes. His cock finally sprang free, standing at attention against his stomach. My eyes widened at how big he was. I should’ve anticipated it, I figured most Supe men were probably well hung, but it a shock none the less. I wondered if I would even be able to take his whole length.

He spit on his hand to lube himself up, moved my panties to the side again, and then lined his tip up with my entrance.

“Ready?” he asked. I nodded and he began to push into me.

My gasps and moans filled the room as he slowly slid into me, inch by inch, almost at a painfully slow rate. I felt so full with him completely inside of me. I could feel the burn of him stretching me out around his girth, but even the burn felt like pleasure. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him back down to me. I kissed him again, hungrily, desperately, and he got my silent message to start moving.

His thrusts were slow at first, testing the waters. It felt so good to feel him pushing in and out of me. His dick was so long that I could feel it not only poking my g-spot, but absolutely abusing it with every thrust. It sent shockwaves of pleasure through me that I wasn’t even sure I had felt before. My head fell back onto the pillow, letting moans tumble from my lips as they felt the need to.

“F-Fuck,” I breathed. “S-Soldier Boy.”

“Ben,” he said, not breaking his pace. “Call me Ben.”

“Ben,” I moaned instead. Definitely a better name to say in bed. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“Yeah? I think I can tell.”

I didn’t have to open my eyes to know he had a cocky smirk on his face.

I ran my hands from his shoulders down his toned back to his ass. I gave it a squeeze, urging him to go faster. I could feel my high coming back, and I desperately needed to chase it. He did as I wanted and his thrusts became faster, rougher. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with my moans and his grunts. He took hold of my legs and wrapped them around his waist, giving himself a better vantage point for his rough thrusts. I screamed out as his dick pounded against my g-spot, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

“I can feel you’re close,” he said. “I can feel this fucking pussy getting tighter. Cum all over my cock. You can do it, beautiful, I know you can.”

His words of praise and encouragement sent me toppling over the edge. Stars exploded from my vision as my body trembled and convulsed around him. It was the hardest I could ever remember orgasming in my life, and it was definitely the best orgasm I could remember having. I felt like I was flying off of the bed and high into the sky, never to return to Earth again.

If it weren’t for Ben above me, still thrusting and whispering words of praise into my ear, I probably would’ve thought I had actually floated away.

His release came shortly after my own. I could feel his dick twitching inside of me before he was coating my walls. His arms tightened around me as he rode out his own orgasm, grinding into me until he has squeezed every last drop into me. He pushed himself up so he could look down at me again.

“You look fucking gorgeous after being filled with my cum,” he commented.

I felt myself grow hot at the compliment, but my body felt too heavy to cover myself.

“Are you...are you on the pill or anything?” he asked. “I probably should’ve thought of that before, but I was kind of...busy. I can get you a plan b. We have plenty of those lying around for this day.”

I lazily shook my head. “I’m good. I’ve been on birth control since I was a teenager. Besides, I don’t think Supes can reproduce, can they?”

“We’ve been unsuccessful in that field thus far. Thank God.”

I started to chuckle, but it turned to a gasp as I felt him pulling his soft cock out of me. Even when it was soft, it was big. I could hardly believe all of that fit inside of me.

He took hold of my panties and pulled them down my legs, gazing at the mess he had left between them.

“That’s a fucking beautiful sight,” he commented. I rolled my eyes and tried to close my legs, but he quickly held them open. “No, let me see this for another little bit at least.”

“You’re fucking weird.”

“You just fucked me, what does that say about you?”

He eventually climbed back into his bed next to me. I could still hear the orgy raging on outside of the door. I chuckled to myself, causing Ben to look over at me and arch an eyebrow.

“I fucked a Supe at the Supe orgy,” I explained. “But just one Supe, and it was the guy who created the whole fucking thing. I was planning on leaving when I stumbled into your room.”

“Well, thank God you didn’t.”

He put an arm around me and pulled me into his chest.

“Maybe getting under someone does help you get over someone,” I said. “I don’t even remember my ex’s name now.”

His chest vibrated as he laughed. “That is a good thing. If you find yourself remembering, though, you know where I live. You can always come over and I’ll help you forget again.”

I looked up at him. “Really? This wasn’t a one time thing?”

“I don’t intend for it to be. Did you?” I shook my head. “Okay, good. Since we’re on the same page, my offer still stands. Although, the offer actually extends to any time you want to come over, for any reason. Not just for some rebound sex.”

“That’s a dangerous offer. In a house this big, a bed this big, I might never want to leave. I might just live in this bed, honestly.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

We both laughed as he pulled me in to kiss my forehead. I made a mental note to thank Maria for dragging me to the super-fuck party when I finally found her again. Turns out, it wasn’t such a bad time after all.

[rowretro]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

✧GIFS AND IMAGES DO NOT BELONG TO ME✧

✧warnings: toxic/yandere themes, harassment, violence, stalking and ofc bullying

✧synopsis: Yandere Enhypen as your bullies, they find out a boy likes you and you may like that boy back hence they snapped...

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

✧LEE HEESEUNG✧

To think that he would even let the boy to cross paths with you, you must have been stupid. God Heeseung is so in love with you to the extent of wanting all your attention on him. What better way is there to have him under your control is there than to bully you?

You were used to this by now, the slapping, the ripping up your homework, the harsh slut shaming, and the way he made sure you were isolated from everyone. But when he saw you pull out an envelope with a box of your favourite chocolates in your locker, boy was he mad...

Within seconds, the gifts were smacked out of your hand as you found yourself being pinned harshly against the locker, your head felt extremely painful from the impact. "Fuck I know I kept calling you a whore but I expected you NOT to be one Lee y/n." The man seethed through gritted teeth as he yanked your hair back, his other hand sliding underneath your shirt, You were quite taken aback by this rough behaviour and the change in surname.

"You're fucking mine don't you get it at this point?!" Heeseung spat as the girl frowned. "Heeseung- but-" before you can even dare to continue that sentence, he kissed you forcefully, saliva dripping down your jaw as it mixed with your tears and his saliva. "Like it or not you are mine." The man spat lastly

✧PARK JONGSEONG✧

Being such a rich, smart, spoiled son of one of the biggest CEOs in South Korea, Jay always got his way around everything. He was always cocky and he loved how little everyone looked around him. His eyes then landed on you. The most innocent, pure looking sweetheart. Since the day he laid eyes on you he knew you were his. Hence he did everything to keep you to yourself.

It started off accidentally. He wanted to be nice but he accidentally pulled her hair. Seeing how she yelped, tearing up a little, he fell in deeper love with the sight. Since then he continuously yanks her hair, says hurtful things and embarrasses you every chance he gets. Recently, Jay caught sight of a boy and you. His blood boiling at the sight of you two giggling together.

He was extremely pissed off dragging you away from the male, and to his car despite your cries and protests, he simply pushed you in, cuffing you to the side as he got into the driver's seat. "JAY- WHAT THE HECK?!" You finally screamed as he started driving. "Sorry pretty baby... Have to take you to your new home, it seems you're forgetting who you belong to..." He trailed off with a smirk.

✧SIM JAEYUN✧

Jake wasn't known for being violent or rude, but he was pretty popular among the girls. However, he only had his interest in one woman. You. Every time you'd walk past he'd smack or grope you. The male loves getting you into detention where you'll be stuck with him alone.

Recently, you had been coming to school feeling a little happier despite his antics, which Jake obviously found suspicious. The man stalked you home, only to see Haruto, one of the boys in your class, walking with you. Jake scoffed to himself, smirking as he walked to his home.

The next morning, you were met with Jake's car parked at the entrance of your home. the man yanked you in driving you to his place. Jake pulled you out, dragging you to the basement where he chained you up against the wall. "Welcome to your new home darling... Of course your room is much prettier but for you to see that Why for now..." Jake trailed off, fiddling with his knife. "you deserve a punishment for being such a slut." He darkly said.

✧PARK SUNGHOON✧

Park Sunghoon was equally as intimidating as he is pretty, girls swoon over him on a daily basis, but will never approach him. Why would they when anyone he touches ends up dead... except for you. The only girl he has spared. Sunghoon hated people so much, he loved to kill for a living, and no one dared to take action for He was the very son of an extremely dangerous mafia boss.

Sunghoon however felt something different when he met you... for the first time in his life he experienced love and only one woman can give him that... you. So he did everything and anything to get your attention, he loved seeing you cry and scream and beg just for him. Heck when he saw that boy ask you out... the boy died on the spot.

Sunghoon yanked you to an empty classroom slamming you against the table as he slapped you. "FUCKING SMILLING AT THAT BASTARD?! WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU ACCEPT THAT SHITTY BOQUET WHEN IM HERE WITH EVERYTHING A WOMAN NEEDS?!" Sunghoon yelled, yanking her hair as he kissed her, his fangs stabbing her lips as he kissed her so painfully. "You're fucking mine hmm? everything you do is for me." he mumbled, as he stroked her cheek.

✧KIM SUNOO✧

The boy is pretty sassy, everyone knows that. However people weren't to fond of talking to him after seeing how he treats you. Sure he runs his mouth spitting vulgar, heart breaking words at you, but he always follows it up with some violence. But can you blame him?He's obsessed with you, god the way you whimper and cry, how cute you looked when putting ur arms out, trying to stop him.

Like those cute little hands can do anything to stop him from throwing a chair at you. Oh but you really crossed the line when you smiled with Jaemin. The senior who obviously has a thing for you. Sunoo beat the living shit out of Jaemin, before carrying you away. You tried to kick and punch, but you couldn't get him to budge. He threw you on the floor of his living room as he took off his belt.

The man showed no mercy as he continuously belted you, his eyes bloodshot with anger "HOW. FUCKING. DARE. YOU." He yelled between the hits. He threw his belt away, as you snuggled into the sofa, hugging your knees as Sunoo breathed heavily. He suddenly knelt down before you, grabbing your jaw to make you face him "Oh no sweetheart im sorry, I know it hurt put I had to punish you sweetheart... you need to know you're mine hmm?" He asked, oh so sweetly...

✧YANG JUNGWON✧

Jungwon is crazy in love with you, but he couldn't just show it.... he can't be seen as weak to you. Instead, he expressed his undying love by embarrassing you in front of students, making you cry with his words. He loves it, Now he knows you cry and scream just because of him...

Jungwon frowned when he saw Choi Yeonjun check you out, clearly having something for you. He didn't even fail to notice How you smiled at him too. Bad move. Bad bad move. How dare you fall for someone like that when he's there waiting for you?! He could deal with Yeonjun later. Right now... he needed to put you in your place.

As you walked into the locker room, to put you books in your locker, you suddenly get slammed against the locker, the sound of the room door locking evidently heard. The man turned you around so you could face him, his eyes piercing into yours as he grabbed your jaw "What?... expecting Yeonjun?!" He asked, bitterly as you frowned. Jungwon forced his lips onto yours, kissing you extremely roughly before pulling away and slapping you painfully. "You're fucking mine dont you dare look at other men... you do not want to know what im capable of darling..." he trailed off.

✧NISHIMURA RIKI✧

Riki was pretty young, youngest in his friendship group, often being babied, but he hated that hence he always wore that cold façade. It was no surprise he was cold to you too, except... he still always put his attention on you. Whether its tripping you over, accusing you of random shit and slapping you ever so painfully, yanking your hair and forcefully kissing you out of the blue.

You hated it. You hated him. But Riki was madly in love with you. That's why he continuously tortured you. That's also why you saw him stabbing an already dead Sungchan who was flirting with you by the lockers. Riki was covered in blood, his psychotic blank eyes now landing on yours. "Awww sweetheart did I scare you?..." He taunted, chuckling as he smeared the blood on your cheek.

Oh how cute you looked being so scared of him, the way you fainted there and then, falling in his arms. Riki smirked, kissing you all over "Finally mine, all mine princess... you're right in my arms where I need you... where you belong and be safe my darling..." Riki smirked, carrying you to his home.

[withahappyrefrain]

FRAT TASM!PETER WITH

“I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard/wet. Wanna hear about it?”

THIS IS SOMETHING THAT COCKY ASSHOLE WOULD SAYYY OH MY GOD

This is how blonde frat Peter returns bless you

Warning: language, frat Peter being a cocky little shit, female reader, I think that's it!

"Hey, you made it after all."

You audbily breathe in through your nose, trying to ignore the fumes of vodka and who knows what else was in this God forsaken jungle juice.

Anything to give you the strength to face Peter Parker.

You turn around to find him leaning against the door, a joint tucked behind his ear, hands in the pocket of his black hoodie, bleached blonde hair somehow perfectly messy.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Parker. I'm only here to support my roommate," you scoff, turning your attention back to the game of beer pong. Not that you were truly interested.

But you couldn't let him know that.

You regret being late to the first day of your Science Diplomacy & World Health class. Had you known it would have left you no choice but to sit next to Peter Parker, you wouldn't have hit the snooze button for your alarm five times.

It wasn't even like you had asked to borrow a pencil from him. He seemed drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

"Y'know, I feel like I would have remembered a face like yours. You a transfer?" He asked, as if you two weren't in the middle of a lecture.

Thanks to your roommate being in the sorority that paired up with his frat, you had heard all about Peter Parker. The infamous parties. How he dyed his hair blonde at the beginning of sophomore. How he's the biggest flirt that Delta Lambda Phi had.

You didn't even look at him when you responded, "We've been in the same class since freshman year. But I came here to get a degree, not to party."

Ever since that day, he wouldn't leave you alone. At first it started with ridiculously over the top pick up lines.

"Are you made up of copper and tellurium? Because you're cute."

All you could do was roll your eyes at every line, mustering all the strength you had to not smile. You had eyes, the guy was cute. But you also knew his type.

So when he extended a personal invite to the latest frat party, you simply turned him down, like you had for countless of other parties.

Of course, as luck would have it, it was exactly the party your roommate wanted to go to.

You hoped to avoid him, hoped that your roommate would find whoever she was looking for so you could leave.

But it was as if Peter Parker had a sixth sense for you specifically. His inability to find you in libraries, dinning halls, and the university's coffee shop (bc fuck Starbucks) had now extended to frat parties.

"You know Parker, stalking is a serious crime," you scoff, refusing to look at him. The ever present scent of cinnamon alerted you that he was now standing next to you.

"It's not my fault you have a beautiful face that I could pick out from a crowd," He mumbles, a stark contrast to the usual cocky bravada you're used to.

"Excuse me?" Without thinking, you turn to face him, making contact with those big brown eyes.

The corner of his pink lips jerk upwards as he leans in, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. His touch is gentle, something you weren't expecting at all.

"You heard me." The cocky smile had returned, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Hey, don't gimme that. I know you love how cheesy I am."

Unfortunately, it was true. He was never crude and it somehow sounded genuine, despite being accompanied by a worn snapback.

"It's not crass, unlike your fellow brotherin. I'll give you that Parker." You would have taken a step back if you could, but you were now up against the wall. But he still had space to close in on you, not that he did. He always kept enough distance that you could walk away.

Come to think of it, you hadn't seen or heard him flirt with anyone since the first day of classes.

"Y'know, I got an offer from Delta Chi. It could be way worse." His comment earned a laugh from you, a feat Peter was quite proud of.

"You're right, I guess I should give you that."

"I think you can give me a lot more," He leaned in, closing some of the distance between you two but not all the way, "If you want."

The ball was in your court. His lips looked so soft, no doubt from the vanilla chapstick he used. God, why did you know that about him? And why did he always smell like cinnamon instead of Axe body spray? That's what he should be using, it would certainly make it easier for you to discourage your own feelings about the guy.

Tired of denying, tired of putting up a wall, and not kissing anyone in the last four months caused you to grab at his hoodie, your lips crashing onto his.

You vaguely register the sound of the dropped plastic cup, as your fingers thread through his hair to find it soft, despite all the hair dye and bleach.

Peter's hands feel large as they skim your sides, landing at your hips. When his tongue slid across your bottom lip, you could feel your knees begin to go weak. As if he could sense it, he pushed your back firmly against the wall, one of his large hands going down to your thigh to help steady you.

Fuck, his lips were soft. There was muscle underneath that hoodie, you could feel it.

His lips trailed down to your jaw before settling on your ear.

"I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard. Wanna hear about it?"

Desire burned at the pit of your stomach, your fingers gripping the strands of his hair.

"Where the fuck is your bedroom Parker?"

[razrbladekiss]

MAPLE HAZEL | Joel Miller — Part Three

SUMMARY: joel’s misery is palpable. you’re oblivious to it. until you’re not.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel miller x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.9k, you are welcum.

WARNINGS: angst. reader is an eagles fan (do NOT come for me, they are my boys. go birds 🦅). F L U F F. mentions of reader’s dad. tommy and joel are jerks, but joel redeems himself. tommy can suck a fat one. i kidddd <3 this is probably the angst-iest this story’ll get because im addicted to the fluff so. enjoy. 🤞🏼 not proof read or edited, i cannot be fucked for that.

TAGS: if you would like to be added for future installments, then let me know besties!! if i’ve forgotten anyone that’s asked to get added, then please slap me. @millersleee @goodvibesonly421 @j0elmlllers @scorpio-echo

SERIES MASTERLIST

Joel’s hands seize the steering wheel of his truck—the same one that’s presently stationed on your driveway—knuckles turning sheet white for the hold that he has is completely unforgiving. And sore.

He’s irascible. Livid. His anger is sheathed by shame and hatred for himself as the way that he conducted himself this morning was unseemly. Even for Joel, it was appalling. And though you didn’t appear to have any reservations, he knew that he bothered you. Your face didn’t allude to irritation, nor did your tone or mannerisms, but Joel was more than conscious of your internal hurt.

He just knows you that well.

But now he’s sitting—legs numb and cheeks charring red—striving to conjure up an apology that’ll help to shirk any ill-feeling that you may have toward him. Because he was a fucking jerk this morning.

And it was all because of an Eagles sweater, believe it or not.

9.42 AM

Birch Grove is bustling. It's considerably brighter, this morning. The doom and gloom that enveloped your small town yesterday has now dissipated, leaving nothing but small puddles of rainwater and grit in its wake, and it’s beautiful. A sight to behold when you’re leaving your house today.

You avoid the wetness on the road—hoping not to muddy your shoes—and bounce onto the sidewalk, admiring the oil slick that blankets damp gravel on your way over to Joel’s. You swear that there’s a divot in the concrete that holds semblance to a heart, but you’re not sure if that’s just a delusion from lack of sleep or some sort of sign from the universe telling you that perhaps it’s time to find a significant other.

Nonetheless, you take in the scene. How yesterday—in the midst of a storm—not a single body littered the crosswalk, therefore leaving Joel’s little coffee shop completely empty. But today—now that the air has cleared and rain almost dried up—it’s like nothing had even happened, and the entire town is out in force. Like they always should be.

Joel watches in awe as you make tracks across the street toward the cafe—wondering how he ever deserved such a buoyant presence like you in his life despite the fact that he’s a perpetually miserable middle-aged man—and busies himself so you don’t think he’s been ogling you this entire time.

But then the bell rings, Joel’s eyes flick up—against his own will—and you bound over the threshold with the biggest smile. He swallows extremely thickly.

“Good morning.” You say, as happy as ever—clearly on a high from your not-date—and pad through the room toward him. “Can I please have a—“

“You’re late.” 

One of your perfectly tweezed brows raises. 

“For work.” He elaborates. Joel clears his throat. “You’re late for work.”

“I got the day off.” You remind him. He vaguely remembers you saying something about this elusive break on Monday, but was honestly too distracted by his brother attempting to use the coffee machine. 

Joel nods, taking your favorite mug off of the shelf. You smile at the sentiment. 

“Ah, you’re going shopping. Right?”

You nod. Your stomach gurgles when your eyes satisfy the gaze of a perfectly plump cinnamon roll. Not too thick, not too over-done, and the right bun to icing ratio. It’s sitting—alone—in one of the little cake cases.

“I am.” You reply, taking the glass dome off of the top. Like last time, you swipe the sweet treat right from underneath Joel’s nose. Only, today, you slide two dollars across so he can’t complain. 

But he wouldn’t anyway. Not today. Because he admires the fact that you’re ungovernable, while simultaneously respecting him. To an extent, anyway. 

“I can get you some fall decor.”

“No—“

“He needs to spruce this place up.”

His eyes roll when he’s pouring the frothed milk atop your latte, hardly going unnoticed by his larger-than-life, sometimes a bit too overbearing brother. 

Tommy acknowledges you by saying your name, and you grin back at him. It’s nice to see one of the Miller’s with anything but a stoic expression slapped against those rough, rugged features. Though there’s something about Joel’s that seems rather superficial. 

Despite being perennial at times, you feel as though you’ve cracked through his tough exterior and. You’re certainly able to decipher between his real and mock revulsion. Last night was the first time that Joel’s guard had truly been down, and it was wonderful. 

“Get him some pumpkins. A wreath—“

“I don’t need no pumpkins. And what the hell is a wreath?”

The youngest brother pulls a stool out next to you, and bumps your shoulder as he sits. He looks at you as if to say get a load of this guy, and you laugh. Joel passes you your latte, and you think that you see a hint of a smile tugging at those plush lips. But you won’t swear to it. 

“A wreath is what Mrs. McKlaren has on her front door for each season.”

“Yeah.” Tommy chimes in. He pulls one of the Birch Grove Gazettes from the pile beside the cake case, and opens it up. “But you knew that. You’re just playin’ dumb in front of—“

You elbow him. “Quit teasin’.” Further defending your friend, you say; “it’s not his fault if he’s not too polished up on the names of things. He’s not pussy-whipped like you are, Tom.”

Joel chuckles at that comment, thanking you with a nod. A man of few words, though you get him. Down to a fine art. 

“True.” He flicks through a few pages, before he’s turning to you with a grimace when you take off your jacket to reveal one of your dad’s old Eagles sweaters. “Oh, God no.”

You frown, putting it to sit on the seat next to you. 

It’s common knowledge around these parts that there are two teams, and two teams only that it’s acceptable to support. Unless you’re flaunting the badge of the Texans or Dallas Cowboys, then you’re basically committing a federal crime.  And the men of Birch Grove take this very, very seriously. 

“Joel. I know you’re friends with this broad—“

“Watch your mouth.” He grumbles, appearing from the kitchen. He has his head down, hands full of cutlery. 

“Sorry.” Tommy says oh so quietly. “But—but look. She’s wearing the mark of the devil.”

Your eyes are rolling so hard you fear that they’ll roll straight from their sockets and into your coffee. You just know that beneath the green flannel, Joel is donning an Aikman jersey.

“That’s so dramatic.” Arms are being folded over as you speak, and he still hasn’t looked in your direction. “It’s just a football team—“

“Woah.” The two Millers harmonize. Joel eyes you directly and turns his nose up as soon as he heeds the shade of green that should be classed as blasphemy, not midnight.  

He didn’t know that you liked them. Tess liked them, too. But you know that. You’re not fucking stupid. 

And perhaps she might’ve aided the disgust that percolates through Joel whenever he hears someone utter the name Brian Dawkins, but he can’t help associating them with her. That same way he thinks of her whenever Fall rolls around, or whenever you step into his little cafe. 

He has such strong feelings for you, but needs to put them aside. He needs to bury them deep for fear of the past repeating itself because he isn’t sure if he can go through that again. His guard goes up, and eyes go down. He busies himself with cleaning. 

“Sacrilege.” Tommy spits. “It’s not just a football team, woman. It’s Irreverent. To come in here and wear that is absolutely ridiculous.”

Your jaw rolls and you look down at the faded logo. 

“I respect that you root for the birds, I do. It must be hard to support such a shit team—“

“Language.” Joel scolds, a little heated. “But, I agree. Can’t go wearin’ that ‘round these parts. It’s almost as bad as you comin’ in here wearing a Steelers jersey.”

Tommy grimaces. It’s not quite as bad, but it certainly sucks. 

But, to you, what sucks is the fact that these men—grown fucking men—are chewing you out over a sweater. It’s child’s play. 

“They’re not a shitty team. They’re great.” You defend your guys, watching Joel try to control the bitterness threatening to bust right out of his lips. “I’ve always loved them. My dad is from Philly—“

“Explains why you have such crappy taste.”

You blink at Tommy. 

“Anyway.” You clear your throat. “I’ll always root for the birds, because they’re my favorites. I also, believe it or not, enjoy the Cowboys when they play at home, or against the Giants. It’s patriotic. But they are a pretty shitty team—“

“No, they ain’t.”

“They are.” You uphold, making direct eye contact with the youngest sibling. “Remind me, when was the last time they went to the Superbowl?”

Tommy’s jaw rolls, and Joel can feel himself slipping. 

“Ninety-five.” Begrudgingly, he says. “But that don’t mean shit—“

“Kinda does.” 

“No it don’t.” He growls. “When was the last time those damn birds won the big game, huh?”

Without missing a beat, you say; “twenty-eighteen. They beat the Patriots by eight points, Brady sucked and Foles was the MVP. I tailgated at the stadium with my dad and uncle—“

“In Minnesota?”

“Yessir.” You tell Tommy before taking the last sip of your—now lukewarm—coffee. “I’ll also be heading to Philly to see the Eagles v Steelers game.”

Joel scoffs. 

“Got somethin’ to say, old timer?”

He grinds his lips together before saying; “just baffles me s’all. Don’t get how someone—Dallas born ‘n raised—can root for a team from Philadelphia.”

“Just the way it goes. But I did say that I enjoy them from time to time.”

“Shouldn’t be that way.” Tommy interjects. “Texans are meant to support Texan-made teams all the time. Not fuckin’—“

“Tommy.” Joel gestures to the customers, scolding him again for his crudeness. 

You pull cash from your purse while the two of them bicker, putting atop the counter before Joel can even refuse. You shrug on your jacket, too, promptly doing up the buttons so the tension can dissipate a little. But it doesn’t. 

“I’m not arguing with you two morons over football any longer.” A little meaner than intended, you tell the two of them. You turn to Joel, brows furrowing. “And I know why you despise the Eagles; I’m not an idiot. I saw her walking ‘round the place with her scarves in the winter, ‘n the occasional jersey on football Sundays.”

Tommy looks between the two of you, sensing some friction. 

“Don’t project Tess’s shit onto me, Joel.” Blunt, you say. “I’m sorry that I was the reason for her leaving, but it ain’t my fault we have the same interests. You can’t pussyfoot around forever, and I don’t appreciate gettin’ admonished for a fucking football sweatshirt.”

“Don’t.” He warns, wrenching a dish rag between calloused fingertips. He knew that last night’s conversation was deep-rooted in something more than just you being curious. “I’m not pussyfootin’ ‘round. I just don’t wanna talk about her.”

“I know.” You say—realizing that you were a little too hot off the mark—but you don’t feel sorry. “But there’ll always be people who like the same things that she did, or say the same things, or remind you of her.”

He looks at you. He knows what you mean. He knows that you know that—in some kind of way—you make Joel think of her. You’re so strong, like Tess. So outspoken, exactly like her. But you’re caring and kind, and don’t get jealous over the slightest little things, and you let him speak. 

You let him tell you about his troubles, not that he shares too much. And you’re not pushy. But now, it feels like you’re being exactly that. 

“I’m sorry that my mere presence as a Goddamn Eagles fan pisses you off, Joel, but I’m not going to be able to change that. You’ll just have to try and detach those memories—“

The dishrag is being hurled onto the bar along with his fists. “I’m not gonna detach those memories! I ain’t gonna forget her just ‘cus you think you know me and my relationship with that woman so well! You don’t know shit. All you do is come in here ‘n drink coffee, rant about crap that nobody cares about, make me listen to your stupid fuckin’ problems—and I’m sick of it!”

You blink back tears as you stare at him, for the volume is intimidating and completely unwavering. You’ve never been yelled at before—in front of customers, by Joel—and you want to be sick. Everyone is staring. Some people are even leaving. 

Has he always felt this way? You wonder. Has Joel always thought that your ramblings are pointless, and that your issues are facetious? You’re sure that he’s just spewing nonsense at this point, but it still stings. 

“Joel—“

“Get out.” He looks down, hands gripping tightly the wooden countertop. He refuses eye contact. 

Tommy gives you a weak smile, immediately regretting setting foot into Joel’s this morning. Quite like you, really. 

“I’m really sorry for bringing her up, Joel, I know how—“

“Go.” His eyes lift to satisfy your gaze, hurt written over his features. “Please…Just leave.”

“Okay.” You nod, lifting your purse from the stool. It’s a quick bye to Tommy that has those damn tears spilling as you walk to your car, not even looking back to wave or smile at your friend like you usually do. 

You fear that this’ll change the trajectory of your relationship with Joel. And his brother knows that. 

He knows that if he doesn’t say something—at this point, anything—then Joel will just let this sit and fester, and become something that it has absolutely no business being. 

His brother knows that you’re the only constant in his life—aside from family—and if he lets you go, then he’ll be considerably more bleak. He’ll have his patrons to keep him company, but he won’t have you. The girl that has—unbeknownst to her—given Joel something to look forward to every day. 

The girl that Joel can’t help thinking of, or talking about, whenever he gets the chance. And despite not always showing his admiration, he’s besotted with you. Infatuated, perhaps. His fondness so clear that everyone can see it. Everyone, aside from you. 

Especially after that.  

“You’re a fucking jerk.” Tommy chastises. “She shouldn’t have mentioned Tess, but that was horrible—“

“I don’t care.” Through gritted teeth, he tells him. “She took it too far—“

“No, we did.” He admits. “She probably wouldn’t have brought the bitch up if we didn’t tease her for wearing her dad’s fuckin’ sweater.”

Joel swallows the lump in his throat, refusing to admit that Tommy could be right about this. 

“You need’a get a hold of your emotions, brother. Can’t be sendin’ her away like that when we both know you’ve got feelings for her—“

Joel grumbles as he rounds the counter, polishing a few tables in hopes that his sibling will go and leave him to it. But he doesn’t. 

“Can’t let Tess be the reason you two ain’t talkin’. ‘Specially ‘cus she ain’t even in the state anymore.”

Fuck. Off. 

Tommy watches him feign emotion, knowing deep down that his brother wants to beat himself to a pulp because you didn’t deserve any of that. 

“She’s right, y’know?”

“What?” 

Tommy says your name. “She’s right. If you don’t cut ties with the things that remind you of Tess, then you’ll never be happy. Always be comparin’ shit to her, and makin’ yourself miserable. Or miserable-r.”

“That ain’t even a word, dipshit.”

“True, though.” He says. “Joel, you’re so in love with this girl, you can’t let her go over a Goddamn football team—“

“Not in love.”

“Bullshit.” The youngest spits. “You get literal heart eyes whenever you look at her, and don’t even try ‘n deny it ‘cus Maria notices too.”

Joel blinks at him, wondering how he’d been so openly vulnerable. He‘a confused at how he’d unintentionally let his guard down enough to display his feelings. The ones that he wasn’t even certain about. 

“It mightn’t be love, Joel, but you’re mad about this girl.” He says a bit softer. Quieter. “And you can try to put these feelings aside, but what’re you gonna do if she walks in here with another man? Or she goes on more dates and finds the one? You just gonna live with it? Just gonna be jealous and miserable for the rest of your life?”

Joel walks to the café window and just stares for a few moments, secretly hoping to see you stomp across the street to give him a piece of your mind. But you don’t. 

“Think you’ve done enough wallowin’ in the past, don’t you?”

He supposes that he’s right. Joel knows that there’s some truth to what is being said to him, and so he turns the Open sign to Closed, and gestures for Tommy to get the remaining customers to leave. 

“What’re you gonna do?” 

“Make things right.” Joel grabs his jacket from the coat stand beside the door, and throws the shop keys to his brother. “Close up for me, will ‘ya?”

Tommy shakes his head. He gets off of his stool and goes behind the counter, grabbing one of the aprons from the hook beside the kitchen door. 

“Turn the sign back ‘round. You might’ve just lost your most loyal customer, you can’t afford to fuckin’ lose no more.”

Joel just nods. He has no fight left inside of him. He does as told, and storms across the sidewalk to his truck. 

He’s been stationary for the last fuck knows how long, just mentally preparing himself for whatever bullshit will spill from his lips the second he sees you. If you even want to open your door to him. He wouldn’t blame you, if you didn’t. He gave you shit, and kicked you out when you spoke your mind. And the truth. Because, that’s what it was, wasn’t it? As harsh as it might’ve been, it was the truth and it was what he needed to hear. 

It’s been two hours since getting a verbal beat-down and, strangely, he really misses the sound of your voice. The oddly dulcet tone. The sweet, honeyed rhythm that slips from between two of the plushest, softest looking lips he’s ever bared witness to in his entire life. And even though some of the words that fell from them were harsh, he no longer cares. 

If he doesn’t apologize, then he might not get to hear you speak again. And he’ll take several scoldings if it means that he can listen to your beautiful tone. 

Fuck. 

“C’mon, dickhead.” He tells his reflection in the mirror. He eyes himself, wondering whether the hat should stay on or off. Because if he takes it off, then his hair might look bad, but if he keeps it on then you mightn’t be able to take him seriously. 

He’s overthinking it. 

It stays on when he’s lugging his body—warm and palpitating—from the cabin, and onto the gravel of your driveway. He minds the flower beds when his boots hit ground, knowing that he’ll have hell to pay if he crushes your blooms or kicks up any mud.

His breath is hot and heavy. It’s like he’s just ran the Boston fucking marathon, not sit in his truck for the better part of twenty minutes being too much of a pussy to knock at your front door. 

But now he’s strolling to your porch, and can’t put it off any longer. He doesn’t even know if you’re home, but he guesses that you are. The wreath that you got today—golden leaves adorned with acorns and berries—is hanging proudly against the wood that you’ve painted sage. 

He laughs to himself when his hand comes up to knock, number eight. It’s almost comical how the number of your house coalesces with the number of his favorite ex-Cowboys player. But he’s not going to bring that up. Maybe another time. 

Joel takes a few deep breaths, heart only stuttering when he hears your footsteps approaching over the suspended wood flooring. The one that he actually had to help you sand down just eight months ago because you always felt that they looked too dark. Depressing. 

He smiles weakly. It doesn’t last long. When you swing the door open and your face falls, then so does Joel’s. 

“Hi.” He whispers, internally kicking himself for being such a wimp. He clears his throat. “Nice wreath.”

You fight a grin. Your disappointment outweighs any semblance of softness at this very juncture. 

After a few hours of mulling it over—and rage shopping—you’ve come to the conclusion that you were at fault. But Joel certainly didn’t make it any better when he kicked you off the premises after his hurtful monologue. 

“Thanks.” Your cardigan is pulled tightly around your body. Cream always looks so good on you. “Is—uh—is there something that I can help you with?”

Joel looks down for a split second. It feels like forever before he’s looking directly at you again. The thumping inside of his chest hasn’t once subsided since appearing at your street, he’s never felt like this before. At least, he can’t ever remember feeling like this. 

And it’s because of this—feeling—that he’s struggling to extrapolate his inward thoughts. You heed it. You know him like the back of your hand, apparently. His face is sullen—almost remorseful—and eyes hazy. 

Has he been crying? No. He’s probably just really annoyed. He looks like that sometimes when Tommy’s pissed him off, and he needs to vent. 

You shift aside, gesturing for Joel to come in. He hesitates for a moment, before he’s stepping over the threshold and into your beautiful home. The home that presently smells like a mixture of Sandalwood and Lavender, but Neroli and Bergamot in the summer months. 

What the fuck is Bergamot? Why do I know what that smells like?

He takes it in. The subtle scent, the fall decorations that make your cozy home look even more appeasing. It’s cute. It’s put together, clean, and inviting. It’s so you. 

You shut the door behind him when he takes a few paces into the entryway, just watching him. His broad shoulders swathed in soft, green flannel are tipped slightly forward. He’s not holding himself the way that he usually does. 

“Is everything okay, Joel?” You break the silence, shuffling past him through the hallway and to the kitchen. You hear him follow behind. Those heavyset footsteps make your heart ache, for some reason. 

Even by the way he walks—slow, long strides—he seems down. Remorseful, perhaps. And though he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, it’s always easy to tell how he feels. 

“Tea?” You offer without turning around, taking the kettle that’s just come to a boil on the stove. “I have chamomile, green, or English.”

“No coffee?” Your head shakes, pulling two mugs from the small shelf above the counter. Joel sits at your kitchen island. “How come?”

Two English teabags are being lifted from the carton—he didn’t specify, you just guess—and plopped into ceramic. 

“I don’t make my own coffee. Don’t taste the same when I do.”

His heart aches. After skipping a beat, of course. He takes a seat at your kitchen island, watching you potter around, clearly not prepared for a guest. 

“Tea is a little more warming, anyway.” You gesture for the sugar and he shakes his head. “Don’t enjoy coffee when I’m on my own. Only when I’m with someone.”

“That why you always come to see me in the mornin’?”

Faintly, you smile. Your head bobs a little bit, hanging low. 

He says your name. You look at him. “Y’know, if you ever want a coffee outta hours, I’m usually at home. You can come ‘round, if you wanna.”

That strange gnawing sensation returns beside a debilitating thumping. He feels the same, but you don’t know that. 

“Same here.” A weak smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you bring Joel his tea. The white ceramic is festooned with acorns and leaves, and he swears that you’ve just given him one of your best mugs. 

You sip quietly your warm beverage, standing opposite to where he sits in an uncomfortable silence. A lull that neither of you realize lasts an entire minute before you’re clearing your throat, and Joel is still trying to find his words. 

“Listen.” He sets down the tea—the best he’s ever had—and shifts a little bit. Joel tries to avoid eye contact with you, but understands that this is one of the times that he needs to show you just how important this is. It’s not just a casual conversation at the coffee house, anymore. 

You’re facing him fully, now. Eyes wide, lips parted a little bit. 

“I’m really sorry about earlier.” His tone is honest, wreathed with a hint of genuine sadness. “I had no business being such a jerkoff to you, kid. I said some hurtful shit, and I let my mouth get away from me.”

“You were a total dick, Joel.” 

He nods. “I know.”

“And I know that I never shoulda brought her up, but I didn’t think you’d yell at me. In front of everyone.”

He starts to cringe as he remembers what he said. How he said those horrible things. You’re such a sweet girl, he can’t believe he flipped out on you that way. 

“Do you really think that what comes outta my mouth is crap?”

“No, of course not—“

“Is everything I say fucking pointless?”

“Hon—no—no, of course not.” Joel fumbles his words a bit, just glad that he didn’t refer to you as any other embarrassing fucking pet name. He's not even sure that you caught it, what with being blinded by such a haze of anger. 

You do, though. You just don’t acknowledge it. 

Your thumb loops through the glossy handle, and you look into your mug. 

“I choose to start each morning the same way; at your café. I don’t do it because I want to come in and ruin your day by ranting, or spillin’ my guts about shitty dates and bad friends.” You refuse eye contact, still watching the tea slosh around as you move the cup ever so slightly. “I do it because I like you, Joel. You’re a great guy, and make my days a little bit easier. I’d even go so far as to consider you one of my friends. But, if you don’t feel that way—“

“Hey.” He reaches out for your hand. He’s surprised that you don’t pull away when his tan flesh meets yours so suddenly. Joel asks you to look at him, and you oblige. 

It’s so sad. Your eyes—so full of hurt—now locked on his. Soft, warm fingers wound between his thick digits. He frowns. 

“Listen to me.” Stern, though soft, he tells you. “Of course I feel that way. I tell you shit that I ain’t even told my own brother, ‘course I see you as a friend. Probably the only person I’d even wanna spend time with, if I’m honest.”

“You’re just sayin’ that, ‘cus you hurt my feelings—“

“No, I ain’t.” Joel shakes his head, trying to ignore the fact that he hurt your feelings. “I’m serious.”

“As a heart attack?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, kiddo, as a heart attack.”

Eyes roll at the sentiment, wondering whether there’ll ever be a time where Joel doesn’t refer to you as kid or kiddo. He tells you that it’s because he’s a lot older than you, but you both know there’s not even a ten year gap between the pair of you. He’s just dramatic and wishing his life away. 

“I’m—uh—I’m no good at this shit.” He looks down, a little curl poking through the back strap of his cap catches your eye. “Feelings, ‘n all.”

Instinctively, your thumb traces over the skin of his hand. You nod. You know. 

He's not the most sentimental person—nor does he cogitate  with his heart—but Joel is one of the most thoughtful men you’ve ever met, and these last few days have you feeling a different way about him. You can’t say that it’s a crush—crushes are for kids, is what your mother often tells you—but it’s certainly something. 

You’re just worried about the fact that he can’t let go of Tess. 

“Don’t gotta explain feelings, sweetie.” You tell him with a smile, reaching for your mug. The tea is cool, now. A little bit easier to drink than when it was piping hot and burning the roof of your mouth. “Just gotta feel ‘em, that’s all. Explain once you understand.”

You take a sip of the drink you made a short while ago, hands detaching. Joel almost feels weak without your touch, now. But he supposes that had it lasted any longer, he’d crumble. 

“Always know what to say, dontcha?”

“I do.” Conceited—though completely satirical—you say. He smiles, and so do you. “But in all seriousness, Joel, I know that you appreciate me. And I know that today was a complete one-off, but I just gotta know one thing.”

“Go for it.”

You suck in a breath, hating where you’re about to lead the conversation. “Did last night make you think differently of me? Y’know, when I asked those questions and pried a little?”

Joel’s heart thumps. Again. He doesn’t know how to say yeah, last night changed everything. But not ‘cus of what you asked me. 

He supposes that he can’t lie to you. He’s as transparent as a pane of fucking glass, at this point. 

“No. Definitely not.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Really. You had the right to know. Nothin’ has changed.”

Liar. 

He’s looking at you with those big fucking heart eyes that his brother teased him about earlier, and he knows it. He knows that he’s smitten. Truly, Joel is more than conscious of the fact that he’s falling—or more appropriately, fallen—for you, but he’s not at liberty to say. 

“You can tell me, y’know?”

He nods. “I know. There’s nothin’ to tell.”

“Okay.” Your tone is skeptical. He’s lying. 

He’s also been sitting here for far too long and is in desperate need of a long, cold shower to wash away the day and shirk any feelings before they come to bite him on his perfectly round ass. So he gets up—pushing the seat back beneath the island—and smiles at you. 

“Left Tommy behind the counter?”

Joel nods. “Yeah. He’s probably cussin’ me out right ‘bout now.”

Your laugh is genuine. Hearty. “Best get back then, hon.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry when his lips part to speak. Nothing materializes. Not even when he’s walking to the front door—you’re hot on his heels—can he figure out what to say. 

He’s opening it before he’s even certain of what he’s doing. 

“Miller.” You say and he turns around. He can’t help looking directly at your lips. “I’ll see ‘ya tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He coughs. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

He’s about to walk away—and you’re about to shut the door—before he’s leaning over the threshold and letting all rationality dissipate. Joel’s left hand meets the doorframe—mere inches from your own—and his breathing grows sporadic. 

Well, now or never, I ‘spose. 

Your fingers tingle, legs weaken. It’s only a split second, but it feels like an eternity that Joel is just standing there; staring at you. He’s waiting to make a move, you’re almost certain of it. 

“You gonna do somethin’?” You taunt, tilting your head a little. It almost snaps him out of his anxiety-induced haze. It eggs him on, if anything. 

“Fuck—shit—yeah.” Joel steps forward so that he’s no longer leaning, and the tips of his boots meet your toes. He’s careful not to stand on them. It’s sweet. 

He’s sweet. 

“C’mere.” He’s telling you when one of his calloused hands meets the nape of your neck, and both of yours are instinctively pawing at his chest. The soft, white  jersey beneath that customary flannel is like satin against your fingertips. He draws you in closer. “I lied.”

“‘Bout what?” You whisper, letting Joel’s hand shift to your cheek. It’s hard not to melt into his touch. 

His thumb brushes over your skin. You wilt beneath it. 

“Last night.” Your eyes are locked. “Everythin’ has changed.”

You nod. You feel the same way.

“And I dunno how to go ‘bout this, ‘cus I can’t do this whole lovey-dovey crap, but I do know that I wanna kiss you.”

He pulls you forward so that your faces are almost touching, and your hands have no choice but to rest atop the peaks of his glorious shoulders. This is something you only could’ve dreamed of. You and Joel in this position—on your doorstep—like something out of a fucking romcom, or Gilmore Girls. 

C’mon, man. Kiss her. 

The man’s heart juts in his throat. Two noses graze one another—when Joel angles his face so that he’s not pushing too firmly against yours—and you can’t help smiling wide at the prospect of Joel Miller, grumpiest man in Birch Grove, taking a liking to you. 

It’s almost as if your entire time with Joel flashes before your eyes—all of the early mornings and late nights spent at his coffee house, the stories shared and secrets told—and everything comes to a head in this particular moment. 

Your smile doesn’t falter. Not even when his lips meet yours, and he pushes the most dulcet kiss against your mouth. It’s so gentle. Nothing more than a delicate peck, but so passionate in the sense that; the two of you need this. The tenderness of the other’s touch—the sweet, cloying taste of sugar on your tongue meshed with malt from the tea—is welcomed almost immediately, accommodated by an unexpected desire and thirst for intimacy. 

And though it is but a peck, the two of you know that this is the start of something. Something completely unexplainable and somewhat unexpected, but something nonetheless. 

You’re the first to pull away. He’s too enamored with you. 

“Joel.” You breathe against his lips. Cheeks are flushed red, eyes hooded and completely blown with lust. “Thanks for comin’ here, and apologizing.”

“Thanks for acceptin’ my apology.” He tells you. Joel takes a step back—not before running his thumb over your skin one last time—for fear of initiating something else. “Wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t wanna.”

“Don’t go sayin’ that. ‘Course I’ll always accept your apologies.”

Joel’s heart rate must be through the roof at this point. 

“Even if I run outta maple hazel syrup?”

A gasp falls from your lips and you feign anguish. You soon smile. He looks at his wristwatch, and sighs. 

“I better get goin’. Left Tommy alone a while, now. Not sure if I’ll have a cafe to get back to, if I keep him any longer.”

You laugh. “Go on. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“If it hasn’t been burned to the ground, you mean?”

“Yeah, if it hasn’t been burned to the ground.”

Joel nods. He’s fishing about the pocket of his flannel for the key. 

“Enjoy the rest of your day, hon.”

His cheeks heat up. “Yeah, you too, kid.”

You can’t help letting out a little ha ha when he’s getting into his truck, and you’re watching from your post against the doorframe. When he gives you a little wave, he pulls away and you’re ambling back into your hallway. Satisfied. Though somewhat confused. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the trajectory of this day, and you suppose that nothing will ever come close. You just need to figure out what happens next.