#have i mentioned this family will be what drives me to insanity

[archadianskies]

Anyway I don't think Alys should conjure up the victims of Aemond's choices like she did with Daemon, I think Alys should give him wonderful snippets of a happier life- moments of pride with his brother, softness with his sister, all three of them taking to the skies on dragonback, his mother's awkward but heartfelt affection. Maybe even getting along with Lucerys who doesn't mock him but asks for instruction in the training yard.

And it'd be a vicious cycle where he'd be happy for a moment, before he realises none of it is real, and he's pushed everyone away, and now he's all alone.

[ghostbustermelanieking]

simply having a miserable christmas time ✌️ 🎄

[tonycries]

The Family Matter?!

Synopsis. Babyfevér - it’s never felt so good.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, breéding, mentions of kids/ marriage, a LOT of creampíes, Gojo’s powers, cúmplay (like a lot), spítting, overstím, exhíbitionism (Geto’s), chokíng Nanami, pússy-slappíng, proposals, rúts (Choso), bíting, true form! Sukuna, overspill, dp, bondagé, mentions of dàddy kínk, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. To the one anon that wanted this - how did you read my mind?? Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Santa, baby…

“B-but- Christmas isn’t for another few months, Toji—”

Now, Toji has to admit - that broken, honeyed-out little drag of his name is enough to crack even that tough demeanor of his - just a bit. And it’s all he can do to calm down the raging twitch of his buried cock, driving it deeper and deeper against your mushy g-spot to shut up those dangerous moans of yours. 

“B-b-but-” You’re flinching when his deep, baritone voice pitches dramatically high to mock your own, a large palm coming down to give your poor clit a branding smack! “-but, you think that’s gonna stop me, ma?”

Stupidly, you’re whirling your dazed eyes over your shoulder to catch his, only for the calloused pads of his fingers to swiftly force your face back down. 

“Not me, you don’t get to hah- look at me just yet, doll.” Toji grits out from behind you, feverish puffs of breath sending goosebumps down your spine. Down to where your puffy cunt was just bulging with all long, solid inches of his swollen, overworked cock. Sloppy. Overspilling. “Not until you’re giving me another brat by Christmas.” 

A sob wrenches out of you when Toji jostles his sharp hips against yours. Harder, until you could feel every minute smack of his still-full, sensitive balls, every slosh of his syrupy sticky cum coating your walls from earlier. 

“Look.” 

You’re shaking your head in almost-bratty protest, the fat of your ass still pushing and pulling against his rugged thrusts. You feel like you could go insane if you saw any more. Thighs twitching to a shy close, “Ngh- can’t s’too- too much.”

This only pulls out a displeased growl from your pussydrunk boyfriend, rasping out a warning. “No fuck-  don’t you fucking dare-” Big, beefy hands wrench your legs even farther apart to admire the mess he’s made, bruising where he holds them unable to escape. “Don’t you even think of it, woman.”

It’s accompanied by another harsh slap! on your puffed-up clit, this time harder than the last. Shocking you to your heated core until you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, already-ruined cunt just clenching in painful pleasure. 

He laughs - laughs, “Instead of squeezin’ the fucking soul outta me, look here at how you’re wastin’ my cum. How can I make you a momma in time like this, huh?” 

You’re blinking away those big, fat globs of tears to finally spy back down again at your drooling cunt. Swollen folds spread shamefully, gaping. Every slam of his hips makes you gush down his achy shaft with a gloss of your sweet sweet juice and his own cum. It splays in a creamy little puddle at your silken sheets, clinging to your bodies like a second, sloppy skin. “Y-you’re so filthy, Toji.”

But Toji couldn’t bring himself to be disgusted - not one bit. In fact, he could feel the tip of his angry head growing even fatter, expanding to meld its way deep into your elastic walls.

“Filthy, huh?” he chuckles so darkly. “Got such a mouth on ya, can already tell you’re gonna be a ah- strict momma.” His fingers are prying your jaw to sag open, whispering so slow and syrupy along your open mouth, “Well, let me tell you a little secret, ma. Doesn’t matter what you call me now, because in about nine months you’ll be calling me something else.”

“And what would- mmpf!” Oh, for how much he loved your sharp mouth, he sure was well and fully intent on shutting you up. Toji’s hitting his cock at the back of your pussy, just mashing deep into your g-spot in sinful sync. Over and over. “-and what would that be?”

Another finalizing smack to your pulsing clit, so smug and messy. He tilts his head to that growing pool below you, splurging farther and farther with each decisive, feral ram. “Your baby daddy, that’s what.” 

As if on cue, you’re cumming - you can’t even remember which saccharine sweet high of the night, but all you know is Toji’s gifting your gummy cunt with a few bullying kisses on your ravaged g-spot. Rough, lingering clashes of his weepy tip on your ravaged g-spot, sending your toes curling, white-hot shocks of pleasure. Again and again and again-

“Fuck- fuuuck yeah take it.” he’s grunting out hoarsely, hips stuttering and so so feral. Barely having the sanity to pull out in his jagged half-thrusts, splitting you apart on all his weighty length to cum inside you - deep.

Painting each and every inch of your heavenly cunt that could be reached with coat after coat of velvety white - all the way from where he was gliding his fat tip across your cervix, down, down, down to your sensitive spots, your sopping wide opening. “Want- need it so bad. Need ya to make me a daddy again. So fuckin’ bad you have no idea- you’d be fuckin’ scared.”

Those mean fingers smushing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout dance down to gather the dredges of his own cum, oozing out of the corners of your slit in a milky white sheen. Still rutting into you, he suckles on them languidly like his favorite candy, “Mmpf- as sweet as ever, doll.”

“Y-you’re so fuckin’ mean, Toji-” your jaw slacks open at his lewd actions. “Our kid better not get such an- hah- an awful personality.”

That makes him pause - it makes him pull away his digits, glistening and connected with stringy ropes of the mess he’s made. Grinning for just  a split-second before shoving the entire length of his fingers into your plush mouth. 

Toji huffs cockily, the rounded tips of his fingers swirl around and around your lolling tongue, addicting you onto the slighty-salted taste. “Our daughter will be lucky to hngh- get my personality n’ your pretty looks.” And you’re barely even lucid when he’s whispering into your sweat-sheened forehead, “So you better give me good news for Christmas this year, ma.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “Take it, like a good lil’ wife.”

Your mouth is sagging open at Nanami’s uncharacteristically gritted words. So hoarse, pained - like they were dragged out of his raggedly heaving chest with each bullying ram of his hips. 

It was barely midway into the evening, and you had no clue how you ended up like this. How those fleeting little titters during your romantic at-home dinner date about kids wound up with Nanami splayed on his broad back on the soft silken sheets. Sculpted abs curving into your back when he nuzzles your neck, plowing his furiously hard cock in his favorite mean full nelson.

“Ha- you’re being so-” you’re gasping out in a wet stutter, ass grinding back onto those neat lanes of blond at his thick base. He’s spearheading you so- “-so mean, Ken.”

“Am, I?” he’s purring, a low rumbling growl from the bottom of his chest. “Well, I might be the stricter parent, that’s right.”

Rolled-up sleeves graze against your heated skin, and you could feel every ridge of the veins along his forearms when he spreads your dangling legs even wider. Jutting his hips so deeply upwards to bow your body to the throbbing curve of his dick. “But, I apologize, darling.” Neat rows of his pearly white teeth sink down on your earlobe, “Feel free to do something- anything about it. Because m’afraid I won’t be able to stop any time soon.”

It was a promise - just the clingy feeling of your walls molding and wetting according to his very shape has him losing his mind. His sanity.

Choking back a long, drawn-out groan when two thick fingers slide down to roll over your puffy clit, “Fuuuck, my love, you’re so- hngh perfect like this.” The bed creaks in protest when his powerful thighs arch even higher upwards, all those hours at the gym paying off when every frenzied mash into the bulging treasure of your g-spot makes your mouth water. He breathes into the intimate crook of your neck, “Though, I bet you’d look even prettier as a momma, right?”

Somehow, that makes your face burn more than being split apart on his relentless cock has. 

“Oh- shit.” you whine, fucking your hips back in a sloppy little staccato. Reaching your trembly arm around his strong neck, your fingers find his favorite speckled yellow tie. Yanking until Nanami’s stern lips in a syrupy sweet kiss. “Really wan’ you to hah- breed me, Ken.”

“Fuck- Oh yeah?” he gasps. And if you didn’t know any better then you’d have said that that came out as a fucking whine. The ever-stoic Nanami Kento crumbling bit by bit with each rummaging thrust to shape your gummy walls. “Then why’d it fuck- take so long. Fuck, I’ve been dreaming of this since the ah- day I met you, my girl.”

Sharp hips dig into the plush of your ass with each pivot, it’s bouncing you back and forth along his slobbering cock. So rough. So tall and angry, you’re hit with a steaming hot gush of milky precum every time Nanami’s sliding out of you up to his thick, girthy tip. 

“Been thinking about you and I- and a little one. A few, actually. One blonde with your eyes, the other two with mine and your gorgeous smile.” That sweet little admission has your twitchy fingers subconsciously dragging at the heavy fabric of his tie. Tight around Nanami’s straining neck, making his head light and cock twitch wildly to draw little patterns on your cervix. “Fuck! Fuck no- keep pullin’ like that, darling.” 

You could feel his raw length rub against sensitive sports you never even knew felt good, in sync with that wandering free-hand of his. Now dancing upwards to glide his touchy thumb over your bouncing tits. “K-Ken, m’so close.”

“How pretty these would look all full of milk, darling.” he muses, sounding more like he’s speaking to himself than anything. Your knees are buckling now, cunt eagerly taking in every powerfully pressurized thrust of his. But Nanami hasn’t had enough of his fill, feeling a burning trail down your arching body. Down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, “And here- where m’gonna fuck-” He’s cutting himself up as his hips slam up into you like with a mind of their own, “-fill you up, make you a momma. Oh, you’d be the best momma. The best.”

He’s fucking you so rough now - so jagged that you’re white-knuckling his tie, reeling him in so close. “And you’d- fuck m’gonna-” you’re sobbing now, over those drawled-out squelches from your velvety cunt. “You’d be the best da-”

You can’t finish your sentence - you couldn’t, because with a few more practiced strokes, you’re cumming all over Nanami’s massive cock. Feeling your elastic walls try to suck him up so hard you wondered whether it didn’t hurt. 

But it didn’t - it felt so sinfully good, in fact, that it was only a matter of a few blissful seconds before you’re being filled up with thick globs of his seed. Drooling out of you with each creamy rut into you, your gaping entrance only takes more. Still pounding into you, bottoming out - yet still pushing to give you everything he had to give.

“Sh-shit.” Nanami marvels at the silky ribbons of cum being stuffed inside, the way it slews up with your honeyed slick to form a glistening gloss down both your fronts. “Wait- oh, wait.” Nanami’s trembling cock spurs out a few more overflowing shots of seed at the very thought of what he was about to do. Still stuffed in, he’s reaching over to rustle through the pockets of his dress pants scattered mere inches away from the two of your slick, convulsing bodies on the bed.

You’re jolting when you feel something cold and metallic slide around your left ring finger, “Didn’t think I’d let you be the mother of my kids without a ring, did you, my wife?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Escape?

“Gorgeous…” Geto’s sultry, slow whisper sends goosebumps running down every inch of your skin. And it’s so soothing - so gentle, and yet- “-doesn’t matter how much you tug, these things won’t let you escape, m’kay?”

A wrenching sob rips from your hoarse throat, and all you can manage to do is tug on those tight, hot-pink handcuffs around your wrists. Pulling to prop your fucked-out body against the very top of his luxurious futon, “S-Sugu, you’re so mean.” Your wide eyes scan the pristine tatami room at his shrine, “Anyone could walk in-”

“And yet you’re still being such a slut, my girl.” He flashes you a rosy red grin, so blindingly pretty that it makes your cunt throb. “Still waiting f’me to breed your pretty pussy. Which would it be? The fifth now?”

Geto doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before you’re abruptly sitting upright, bottom lip wobbling with need. Your swollen pussy is just weeping beads of his cum at this point, sobbing down where he was still buried so eagerly inside your gummy walls. Your thighs shaky in- fear? Anticipation? The need for more? 

“Ah ah-” you feel two soft little smacks to the side of your cheek. “Don’t zone out on me just yet, gorgeous. S’this hah- boring for you?” And despite all the pleading shakes of your head, he only plows on, “Aww, what a shame. Guess I just hafta spice things up-”

It’s all the warning you’re getting - barely even - before your poor, weepy cunt is back to being just split apart on his fat head. Not even being eased into it, no care or concern for those overstimulated spasms when he stuffs you full. 

“F-fuck-” your eyes are shooting open - when did they even close? - at the sound of nearby footsteps in the hallway behind those sliding doors. Very nearby. “I swear someone’s gonna catch us, Sugu-”

The only sound that rings throughout his humid, heady room is your wet gag - muffled around the pale, slender fingers of his being shoved between your kiss-bitten lips. All you can register are the soft pads of his digits pressing down on the back of your taste buds and the unforgiving little pulses of his prominent veins dragging against your gummy walls. 

Leaning down - until he’s so dangerously close, until you could count every long, dark lash on his eyelids, every flex of his muscles - slosh of his syrupy sweet inside you - as he sets a languid, lazy pace. “If someone catches us then I will hngh- jus’ keep going, do not test me, pretty girl.”

The other of his splayed out fingers are drawing methodical, dizzying circles on the very tip of your sensitive clit. Matching his teasing place, every grazing nudge of his leaky tip coating your bruising g-spot. 

“Haven’t I already told ya not to start things you c-can’t finish?” Geto’s husky voice is talking you through every clingy thrust. Falling from his pretty lips with each deep snap, fucking you into the drenched futon leisurely like some cocksleeve. “N’ what did you do, hm?”

You couldn’t answer if you wanted to - because Geto’s fingers were still firmly swiping around your tongue. Murmuring, “Exactly that. Just had to make that fuckin’ hah- stupid little joke about me not being able to handle another daughter, huh?”

“Mmpf- hngh Sugur-” you try to moan out at a low thump! outside, but he’s shushing you pliantly quiet with a ragged pump into your womb. Making you gush velvety ribbons of his previous cum.

“Heh, think this cunt actually wants to get out of this without being bred?” It was true, your painted-white walls were just clinging elastically to Geto’s shaft every time he drove into you, sucking up every bit of him like you’re trying to milk out something delicious. Again. 

“And guess what?” he’s so crazed now, eyes glowing with a dark delight. Hips pistoning into yours with fearsome accuracy to smash over and over into the bullseye of your sensitive spot. Sloppier. The shuffling outside getting louder. So unfairly good that you’re barely registering his next words, “M’jus’ gonna breed this slutty pussy until you give me another. Until everyone knows you’re my slut.”

It only takes one, two, three more drilling clashes with your g-spot for you to fall apart once more. 

Your own orgasm bursts out of you. Squirting in glistening dredges again and again until it’s just a few fatiguing shocks of pleasure that have you heaving for air, whining Geto’s name like a mantra. The overstimulation too much, his twitching cock too big - over and over-

“F-fuuuuck- squirting all over, y’made such a mess.” Geto’s moan is so pornographic when that angry divot at his flushed head explodes with spurts of thick hot cum. So addictively sweltering against your plush walls, it floods into your womb, down your thighs - to your lungs it almost feels like. “Gonna give me another daughter? Yeah?” He breathes, head thrown back while he stuffs you too-full, until he could see the seeping white on your creamy cunt in his glassy peripheral vision. And he still isn’t done cumming - thinning out to mere sticky wisps. “Gonna make you so full- so swollen. Until everyone looks at you and knows what I did- how I defiled you. They’ll look at you and see me. Me, me, me, me-”

There’s such an animalistic cadence in the way he’s rutting into you, pushing you further and further up those drenched sheets. Just dragging your body forwards with one strong arm around your handcuffs when his sheer volume gets too much that you’re trying to pathetically escape. 

Thump!

In a split-second, Geto’s grabbing at a hidden dagger from underneath his robes. Throwing - dead straight through the paper doors - only for a loud thud! to echo from outside. “Bet the scum outside don’t even need to hear the pregnancy announcement, huh?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - My strange addiction

Oh, there’s nothing you loved more than Choso losing control - around the time of year when the weather grows a little warmer, when your sweet boyfriend becomes a little more restless. Those dark, dewy eyes of his turning black with something primal, desperate. 

Ingrained in his blood to breed you. To do nothing but breed you. 

Like right now. 

“Oh?” you’re purring with a coy bat of your lashes, looking over your shoulder to where he was looming. Flushed, gulping, absolutely drunken off your heady scent. “On your rut again, Cho?”

And that makes his entire body jolt, as if zapped by a sudden wave of electricity. Large, trembly hands fist your thin shirt to pin you down like some ragdoll onto the cool kitchen counter. Breath hitching, such a pained grunt leaves him at the sound of his name leaving those pretty lips of yours. 

Almost guiltily, he’s baring a wet gasp, “Y-yes. Saw you makin’  ah- makin’ us dinner in the kitchen and-” It’s like he hasn’t even realized what he was doing, slapping his raw cock against your drooling slit with each word. Smack! Smack! Smack! “-and- I just thought about how- just needed to…”

But alas, Choso doesn’t get to finish a single thought - because you’re stepping up onto your tip-toes - ever-so-slightly. Feeding your needy cunt with just the round girth of his very tip.

“Just needed to what, Cho?” you hum, quirking a devilish brow his way, holding back a keen at the sheer stretch of him around your sopping entrance. “Or do you wanna stop?”

Fuck, Choso swears he could feel his overworked balls squeeze so painfully at the very thought. “No-”  he’s hissing, glassy gaze widening almost comically. “No no no no no- please no. please, please this is all I want.” 

With a sultry giggle, you reach behind to pull him roughly by his soft strands. Choso’s grunting out hoarsely, letting himself be dragged to clash his lips against your bruised ones in such a sloppy kiss. All tongue and teeth, he drinks you in like a man depraved. “All you ever want is to just hah- fuck me in this kitchen, Cho?”

It’s so cute the way he’s sputtering dazedly into your sagging mouth, such a sweet whiny cry of, “Yes but no- fuck, I jus’ wanna–” The slow drag of his heavy tongue coats the crook of your neck in his saliva, hammering his swollen cock upwards until he was practically lifting you off the ground with sheer inhuman force. “Jus’ wanna breed you full, baby. Breed this pretty pussy like m’meant to.”

It’s with an almost-animalistic type of worship that Choso’s just ramming the rest of his thick cock into you until he’s spearheading straight into your spongy g-spot, weighty balls - painful, and ready for breeding - smacking against your ass. Addicted. 

“O-oh, fuck–” you can’t stop your honeyed gasps. “You’re s-so big- so hard even after just this morning? What a naughty boy.” 

Just slamming you down onto the cool marble,“Fuck- fuck fuck y’know what I imagined when I hah- saw you in the kitchen?” Such throaty groans drag along with each and every plunge into your slobbering pussy, Choso was always so talkative when he was like this. Slurring out a mile a minute, “Saw my pretty wife, the pretty mother of my kids.”

And you knew what he was going to say, but that doesn’t stop you from milking him so tight, velvety walls contracting in a way that almost made it difficult to maintain his sloppy staccato. Back arching into such a slutty bow to drag even needier down his drilling length

But your beloved boyfriend still wasn’t done, kissing away hotly at the corner of your mouth. “N’ s’not jus’ the hngh- rut talking either. Fuuuuck-” All six feet of his muscled body pins you to the counter, and distinctly, you could feel him scramble desperately to buck up a knee to angle his hips even deeper. “Saw you makin’ breakfast before school, and I’m- hngh- and I’m getting the kids ready - a boy and a girl, both as gorgeous as you.”

“Y-yeah?” Is all you can breathe out, “What- hngh- what else?”

You didn’t expect his humorless chuckle - broken, and a few pitches higher than normal. “What else?” His eyes are absolutely crazed now, and he’s biting down on your pouty lower lip. “Oh what didn’t I see?” 

Bowing till you could feel every ripple of his abs against your back. Every slow tremor of his glossy head nudging past your defenses, hitting deep at the bottom of your g-spot. It takes a few more sloppy pumps for you to realize that Choso’s still speaking. 

“Saw the wedding- saw the first birth, the way I cried-” The way he was crying now, ragged, overstimulated tears dripping down his pretty cheeks. Panting out wetly, “-what a great momma you are, the best. The way I help you hngh- milk these p-pretty tits when it’s too much. But my most favorite of all-”

You don’t hear the rest - and he doesn’t tell you, because he’s too busy cumming. Cumming and cumming so much that Choso thinks he can’t stop, swollen base rummaging deep inside to plug up those thick ropes of hot seed inside. It was impossible that he hadn’t achieved his dream with this. 

It’s bloating you up, too much. Spilling out of those little gaps at the dips and ridges of his twitchy cock that your inner thighs cover in a clingy white sheen. 

Drawn on instinct, you can only scream when Choso’s sharp canines bite down on the sensitive spot at your neck. Hard enough to draw blood - and, if you two were in any better state of mind, you’d have noticed that he did draw blood. 

A thin saturation of heady red coating his devilish grin, delicate strings of spit still connect to the mating mark. “-my favorite was when we made another.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - DOUBLE STUFFED!

“One more.”

“Kuna-”

“One more.”

When all you’re getting is that leeringly dangerous grin - the very same one he gifts any weak curses just about to be killed at his feet - you know there’s no way you’re getting out of this. Either you take it - or he makes you. 

Gliding your palms across Sukuna’s bulging pecs, your trembly legs twitch atop his muscled thighs. Gingerly jutting along where your poor cunt was being split apart on his twin bulgingly hard cocks. Up and down up and down up and-

“S’too much-” you’re whining, feeling the gush of his sticky cum coat down your thighs. Oozing out of your bloated cunt with every syrupy sweet bounce of his ravaging cocks. “I- not enough space-”

Any you were about to stupidly babble out is cut off when Sukuna wraps five thick digits around your exposed neck, intentionally dipping his sharp nails to leave branding little divots right about your racing pulse. A warning. A punishment. “Did I tell ya to keep runnin’ that hah- mouth, brat?” he spits, waiting for you to shake your head deliriously “no” before grinning. “Then why am I hearing so much t-talking n’ not enough of this slutty lil’ cunt of yours taking one more? You hear that?” 

All that was ringing in your ears was the honeyed echoes of squelches from below, smacking and slapping in sync with your pathetic movement. 

“Exactly.” Sukuna’s snapping you out of your thoughts, one hand resting at the glistening plush of your hips, the other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you just slobber down his angry, red shafts. Glossing over him all the way from those fat tips to the creamy ring around his base. “Wastin’ too much of my hngh- cum with yer talkin’, brat. How are ya gonna have time to carry my seed?”

And he’s so large - so strong. Not even breaking a sweat when he’s getting up from his decadent throne with you boneless in his arms, still stuffing your cunt full with all greedy inches of both cocks. 

“O-oh, fuck, Kuna!” you’re squealing when gravity pulls you down until you could feel the scratch of his pink happy trail against the sensitively grazed areas of your skin. The dizzying push of two matchingly massive girths stretching your gummy walls to its limits. Your nails draw jagged red line down his tan skin, trying to keep just an ounce of your sanity together, “Fuck you’re in so hngh- deep.”

“Easy on the back there.” Sukuna’s rolling his eyes, but he can’t deny the way his heart clenches at the way you’re so fucked-out and easily sliding down his cock like some pretty sex toy. Whimpering about some baby names.

Not like it mattered, anyway. He’d name the little devilspawn whatever you wanted - after fighting about it for the fun of it. Heh, he always has been soft on you, huh?

All it takes is one hand holding you up, another to toy with the sensitive nub of your clit. Rolling and teasing you even deeper into his arms while another still rests firmly around your throat. 

The remaining hand? At Sukuna’s favorite place cupping your teary cheek, gliding away those big fat tears with the cure of his soft thumb, “Shh shhh, you can take it. You’re my pretty lil’ queen, right?”

Even his mind a hot melted mess on your dripping cunt. Just fucking into you ruthlessly, up, up, up till he was bulging at the very back of your cunt. One fat tip firmly kissing your g-spot, the other gliding in a silky smooth cadence against your poor cervix.

Matching veins rubbing matching sensitive spots, rendering you so awfully dumb on his cocks. Mixing with the hypnotic splattering of his seed against the velvet of your walls, it’s impossible to not feel like you’re about to fucking burst. 

Intertwining your fingers with his much longer ones on your face, you’re dragging them to rest at that palpable little nudge along the middle of your stomach. Pressing down to make him feel where he was buried deep, hiccuping lewdly, “You’re right here, Kuna. S’gonna be- hngh! impossible to not give you an heir.”

An heir. 

And fuck he couldn’t take it anymore - if anything even fucking heard about this, they’d faint. 

Because with a shuddering gasp, the king of curses was just dragging your weight down his cocks - over and over - to gloss your insides with each new coat of the thick, syrupy cum weeping out of his angry heads. So overfilled, but still greedily swallowing everything Sukuna gives. 

“Fuck-.” With an angrily strained growl, Sukuna only speeds up his motions on your clit. Methodical. Urgent, even. Still fucking him seed deeper to smash his quivering tips at your g-spot. Both - two divots pressurizing you at the same time. “How dare you make me cum first, woman. Think you’re soo fucking funny, huh? Better give me hundreds of lil’ hellspawn to make up for it.”

“N-noo-” you croon, but that limp little curl of your lips at the abundance of seed seeping out of you gives you away. It was so unlike him - so startling to spy the blushing rouge at his ears, the way his fat balls smack and only squeeze harder when you milk every drop. So hot, and splattering right down both of your legs, forming a creamy puddle at his floor. “I didn’t-”

You don’t finish your sentence, you can’t. Because with all of his brute strength, Sukuna is just wrenching that orgasm from your grasp - fucking you over and over through your high. 

The puddle only grows wider. And there’s no warning before he spits, once. Twice. Right onto the middle of the overwhelmed taste-buds on your tongue, gently shutting your mouth with one hand. The other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you drool a glossy coat of cum down his front. Making a mess.

“S’inauspicious, y’know. Having the momma cum first-” He’s gruffing, sure you were still crashing into wave after wave of pleasure to even hear his whines. “-so why don’t you give me one more?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Meet the Gojos

“Toru- we’ll get caught.”

“Shut up- fuck- shut up.” Gojo’s face was ashen, grinning so dangerously at the sight of you completely and utterly bound into that obscene mating press he loved so much. Your pretty pussy at the perfect angle for him to hammer his achy cock so thoroughly into you. “S’not what this cute cunt is sayin’ though, sweetheart.”

Fuck, if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have smacked him maybe. But you knew right by the glowingly amused tinty in his blue eyes that he was waiting for that to happen - goading even. 

You’re whining hotly, fingernails digging sharply into the winding wooden desk rested cool beneath your skin. “The- the elders are about to have a- hngh! meeting in here soon and-”

Gojo’s lips curl  when your breath hitches, feeding you each and every one of his merciless inches over and over- “Well then it’s damn good that they’ve been bugging me for an heir, dontcha think~?” 

You’re letting your drooling maw fall slack in disbelief - only to create the perfect opening for your boyfriend to catch you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Spitting out little profanities with each harsh push of his fat gliding tip across the slippery slopes of your walls. “Heh, always so fuuuck- cute when you’re fucked dumb on my cock.” he’s chuckling, mouth looser than usual with the way the tight channel of your cunt is sucking out every one of his honest thoughts - his soul. “But ya needa get more firm, I’m gonna be the fun parent.”

It takes another harsh snap! of those toned hips bruising against your ass for you to jump back into your heady reality. 

“T-Toru…” you’re murmuring, but it comes out so much more breathless than you wanted. Catching on to that syrupy, fucked-out tone of yours, Gojo takes the opportunity to ram his swollen length even meaner into your slobbering cunt. Wringing out your narrow hole to mold around the exact shape of his massive dick. “We- ngh! We’ve got to set an example.”

You feel the fat girth of his shaft grow two sizes even bigger at your scolding. Bulging those two prominent veins down the middle to imprint onto your gummy walls. The roaming point of his glossed-over head pressing straight onto your g-spot, making you writhe underneath him. Bucking up for more more more-

A pale, splayed-out palm slams! down onto the creaky mahogany right beside your head, and when you’re batting your dazed gaze up you see-

Oh. 

Oh fuck - forget setting an example, you were about to be made one. 

Because Gojo’s blue irises were sparking with tiny rods of lightning, teeth bared in such an amusedly feral grin that it made your cunt ache. 

“Fuck-” even his voice sounded deeper - raspier, cracking ever-so-slightly with need near the end. “Fuck, you can’t talk shit to me about ‘setting examples’ when you get so fuckin’ wet just because I play a little rough.”

Playing a little rough was an understatement - and both of you knew it. Because if Gojo was simply toying with your sanity before, then he was well and fully intent on breaking it right now. Right along with your poor pussy with those bludgeoning, harsh thrusts you were being gifted with.

The expansion of his weighty cock has you squealing with each powerful slam, “Fuck- fuck you little-”

“Hunk? Absolute catch?” he grins, voice dropping to a low husky drawl. A slick little trail of drool dips down the corner of his mouth already with every cracking beg and plea, followed by a series of lingering grinds - not even thrusts, just slow, shallow swerves to feel you tighten wetly around his hot shaft. The lights flicker above, “Father of your kids?” 

That makes you wrack in a sinful shudder, words tumbling out before your syrupy sweet brain could compute them, “You’d make a- a good daddy, Toru.”

Crack! 

It’s happening in a split-second - a stuttering gasp catches in Gojo’s throat, those baby blue eyes going wide. Glowing. In the distance, your popping ears catch the sharp shattering of that prized vase in the corner of the room. 

But right now it felt like you were the one about to break - because ribbons and ribbons of Gojo’s hot, potent seed were knocking on the door to your womb. Splurging in thick dredges to stuff you full from the inside out. 

“Fuck- fuck, you evil evil woman.” Gojo breathes out, the only thing he could seem to do at this very moment. When the tethering clenches of his balls have tapered out, he’s pulling out to smack! the length of his throbbing, red shaft on your clit. Mouth hanging open at the way just buckets of his own cum gush out of your tight hole. “Shit- m’gonna breed this cute cunt. Gonna fill her up until you’re so round and swollen.” he’s babbling, gliding pale fingers across the sloshing cum now seeping onto the desk to shove it back inside. 

“Fuuuck- m’gonna breed her till she hah- doesn’t know what it’s like to not be stuffed full. Until you’re giving me a cute lil’ blue-eyed baby.” Crackling with jujutsu energy, he’s smack down on your puffy cunt - hard! “Until m’not the strongest. Not even second- or third or fourth or fifth-” kissing your pouty lips in addicted little pecks. “-no. S’gonna be my- our kids. All ours.”

“Ngh! Toru–” you’re whining, only taking another few messy swivels on your cunt before you cum. And you swear, the lights go out at this very moment - the only thing you can see being Gojo’s flickers of purple jujutsu and his gleamingly white grin.

He smacks another hand down on that wooden meeting desk - the now broken desk, standing wearily on only three legs - and the puddle of cum seeping below you. “Think we’ll be excused from the meeting? Because m’not done with you just yet, ma.”

A/N. Yuh I had two Kendrick references I apologize (I don’t).

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nyahsworld14]

A part of Jason Todd as a character that I will always find tragic is his inability to return to the life he had like other superheroes could. Like nearly every other superhero who has died and come back in DC was fully able to slip right back into the lives they had before. This isn't to say death didn't affect them, but when they came back their relationships were still there. The friends they made even and their superhero personas were still their to pick back up once they were ready.

Not Jason, though Jason comes back from the grave, and nobody even notices. His superhero mantle has already been taken by someone else and the role that he plays in his families life is already being filled by another child who everyone across the board agrees is better than him.

You're telling me that wouldn't drive you insane everyone else gets to slot back into their lives like they never even hit the grave, but not you. Everything that was once yours has been taken away and given to another character while you were rotting in the ground. The worst part being that when you are mentioned at all after your death you're the failure, you are what no one should ever aim to be.

I don't know if it was up to me, I would have also tried to get back at the people who claimed to love me in every way possible and then immediately never spoke a good word about me once I was in the grave.

[lowkeyrobin]

Heyyy hope you’re having a wonderful day! I wanted to request a Sparrow Ben Hargreeves one shot where like Y/N is oblivious to his feelings while he’s trying to drop hints?? (but failing because something always happens)

If not that’s totally fine!!! No pressure :3

oooo okay okay I can definitely try!! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy 🫶 ; alsonsorry this is so bad idk y I flopped on this 😔

SPARROW! BEN ; damnit

summary ; ben's always being cockblocked

warnings ; language, mentions of alcohol

disclaimers ; takes place post s3 - pre s4

word count ; 881

masterlist

You stand in the kitchen with Luther, making dinner with him for the family. Everyone, aka the Hargreeves and Lila plus their kids, had come over for a little reunion for their birthday. You weren't a Hargreeves, nor did you have powers, but they were your only friends, and they each saved your life at least once.

Ben approaches, leaning on the counter where you chop up some green onions, a pot and pan on the stove behind you.

"Hey" He smiles. "Whatcha up to?"

You shrug. "Chopping up some onions. What's up?"

"Nothing, really. Allison picked out a really dumb movie to watch and I can't stand it anymore" He answers.

You'd tuned out the family in the living room just a few feet away, focused on your meal prepping / creating. You look up at the TV, seeing the family sprawled around the furniture, kids playing with toys on the floor.

"Ben, stop, this movie is so good" You reply, turning back to your cutting board.

"It's some cheesey Hallmark movie?"

"Hush"

The two of you are silent for a moment before he speaks again.

"Your hair looks really nice today-"

"Fuck!"

The siblings quickly shoot up from their spots, Ben jumping a bit as you rush to the stove.

You'd accidently lit the chicken on fire. Somehow.

You quickly slam a lid over the pan of chicken, not wanting to fuel the grease fire any more than you had. You quickly shut off the burner, slowly looking back at Ben.

"Could you go get me more chicken from the store? I'll give you the money, I just need to look over all this stuff, sorry for asking on your birthday-"

"Yeah, sure!" He quickly replies. "Anything for you"

"Hey, Y/n" Ben smiles, "I brought you flowers"

"Awe, thank you!" You reply, accepting the gift as he enters your home.

"I kinda wanted to talk to you about something-"

Your phone rings, the number being the one of your workplace. You grab it, looking to him before accepting the call.

"I gotta take this really quick, sorry"

He nods, watching you trail into the other room, flowers still in hand. He stands by the door, unknowing of what to do in the moment. He soaks up his own silence, listening to your unintelligible speech behind the walls.

You return swiftly, a sorry expression on your face.

"I'm so sorry, Ben, I need to go in, it's urgent. Uhm, we'll talk later, yeah?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Be safe"

As he quickly exits your home, he mutters to himself.

"Damnit"

"I dunno, maybe I'm crazy," you chuckle, picking up another piece of food with your fork.

"I don't think you're crazy." Ben shrugs. "I think you're overworked and tired"

You both sit in a booth at a restaurant, a bright light shining over the table, warm food on your plates. You were eating out because you both didn't want to cook dinner at home tonight. Being alone sucked for both of you. If only you both had the balls to talk to each other.

But that's your problem, you oblivious fuck.

You shrug at his response. "I dunno, I think being alone, living alone, is slowly driving me insane."

"I mean, you could live with me," He mumbles, picking at his food.

"Hm?" You hum, having not heard him.

"Oh, nothing"

"...You sure?"

"Yeah"

The silence blankets you once more as you listen to the nearby commotion. The other families eating, the bustling workers, the music over the speakers.

You listened to everything but him, didn't you?

Today was the day. Ben was going to ask you out and he was not going to let himself or anything else get in his way.

Well, maybe red wine ruining his shirt would.

Why did he decide to take you to a bar in the first place is what we're all wondering. It didn't take much for him to get at least buzzed, which was his current state.

You decided to walk him back home, not wanting him to walk in the dark all by his lonesome. The walk is quiet, considering his slightly bruised ego. Jesus, he'd never get the chance to ask you at this point.

He slumps onto his bed as you lead him into his home, yelling into his mattress. You stand behind him, silent, finding this normal, because it was.

"What're you mad about now?" You sigh, throwing a pair of pajamas on him which you'd gotten from his dresser.

"I wanted to ask you out, and I have for a while, and every time I try it gets fucking ruined!" He slurs, yelling into his mattress once more.

You blink, confused. "What?"

"I like you, Y/n, Jesus," He groans, rolling over to look at you.

"Oh"

"'Oh' what?"

"I didn't realize" You shrug.

"I know. That's why I was trying to hint at it and even tell you, but you're oblivious, and things always have to go sideways at the wrong time," Ben speaks.

"I mean, I'd go out with you"

He raises an eyebrow. "Actually?"

"Yeah" You shrug. "Why not?"

"Oh my God, that took the biggest weight off my shoulders." He rolls off the bed on accident, landing on the floor.

You laugh.

"Damnit"

[acid-ixx]

i’m kinda curious on whether or not the reader would continue going to college after they go back to the wayne manor. furthermore, i also remember the resder mentioning a small group of friend they had, will they stay in contact with them? how do the family react to them being so close with others? dudhjew i love this series you write so well.

— masterlist !

a/n: phew i finally get to answer asks !! yesterday was insane, me and my family swam on around 5 different beaches so i was outside for more than 12 hours with no wifi and the power keeps turning off in the house due to the weather so that's that. i love writing so this is a bit longer than i expected hehe. oh yeah i forgot to tell yall that in the timeline, the mc may be bruce's third child but they're actually younger than tim as he was adopted later on.

now, to answer. i don't think bruce, as your ever-so loving father, would agree to get you back to college once you're back (kidnapped) in the manor. he wouldn't directly say it, but with your current state of relationship towards your family, with just how much time they have lost not spending it with you, it's a given that bruce, your dad, and your siblings who are feral for any ounce of attention from you, would insist that you take... a very long vacation with just them.

after all, desire is one of the stronger emotions they feel towards you, and they grapple at anything you offer towards them. but they still want you to be happy, no?

so at first, they'll let you go to your classes (though you'd be heavily monitored everywhere. who knows what bad influences scurry the area, right? barbara and tim take turns watching through the live feed of your college) but that's only if, and only if the uni's timetable allows for a flexible schedule with your family after. that means, if you're stubborn enough (which bruce understands, because "bruce! you allow damian to go to school so why can't i?!" and he's willing to give his baby the world after he finally hears them say his name) and still wish to continue the course you're working so hard for, one you had attained a full scholarship for, then go ahead!

though they can't help it when the hours they're supposed to get to know you better are taken away from them. for now, you'll have a taste of freedom before it's ultimately taken away from you.

but until then, you'll have to learn how to balance school life with family life. because even if there would be no more crappy apartment to go home to, even if you actually get a full meal instead of cheap, microwavable oven meals and dollar priced ramen, even if you still get to pursue your dream course— it's undeniable that the moment you leave your uni's doors, you'd be picked up by dick, tim, and even your youngest brother damian fucking wayne driving the car, to be escorted back to the manor strictly after classes. during the night, should you ever overstay for projects, it would be jason who'll greet you and allow you to ride his motorcycle; though that's only permissible if you have updated them a day before that you wouldn't be home before the curfew bruce has set up for you.

sometimes, it's your father who makes an untimely appearance with his well-known persona, brucie wayne. he'll greet all the people who pass by with a teethy smile, his big hand holding your stiff shoulders after he kisses your cheeks as a greeting. if you're out the door with your friends - friends who knew of your history of neglect, who told you they would always take your side - then he'll shake their hand, introduce himself with a charm that makes them question if what you've told them is true.

he presents himself with such an aura that's harmless, as if him and your other siblings who are spying by a bush aren't incapable of taking all friends down with just a punch to their face shall one of them speak up or dare tease you in front of them.

unfortunately for you, even some of your friends would be truly convinced that your father wasn't the same man you've told your lifelong stories about neglect. not when he makes a show of running his hand through his baby's head to comfort them whilst he talks to them, not when he cloaks your shoulders in his own work suit to make sure his child wouldn't feel the chilly weather, not when he takes all the time in his busy day to pick you up from school as he should've done all those years ago.

but who would believe you when it's obviously known by the public eye that bruce loves his child, (name) wayne?

you know it's all fake, and it's scary for you, that he simply was able to make a cover up story to the journalists that his child's lack of presence to the public is him merely wishing to shield them from the disgusting media, no?

now that you're older, he says, he would want to make a show of his undying grip over you, that his gleeming eyes that hold multiple threats towards the people in your campus is simply his overprotectiveness as your father, that if they ever harm you or dare question your family's overprotective nature towards you; they'd be gone by the very hands that sworn to protect gotham.

it's all fake, you tell yourself.

but what isn't false are his intentions to make you feel like you're part of the family now, no matter how much you kick, or fight, or scream; they'll always remind you that you're loved and always will be. it's both an apology and display of affection towards you.

it doesn't matter if your uni is on the other side of gotham, you're always coming home to them and that's final. at least you know they still have an ounce of empathy for you to continue having friends (and a boyfriend that they've no knowledge of, yet), as long as they heavily monitor you...

... what you don't know, though, is that the moment you've fallen into the hands of danger— your father wouldn't hesitate pulling you out of college and instead settling for homeschooling. you have brilliant siblings, after all, and a father who had trained all over the world.

that's why hangouts with friends are unpermitted, you soon discover that only trying to beg bruce to at least be more flexible with your friends would only lead to even lesser chance of trying to find escape in your already stuffy life.

and don't even dare throw a tantrum about preferring your friends over them. if you even go as far as calling one of your friend's parents as an even better parent than bruce could be, that your friends are people you consider actual siblings, then you've guaranteed yourself a one way ticket to being locked up in the manor, permanently; with your father and your siblings, especially damian, trying to prove themselves that, no, you didn't just fucking say that, take it back.

you're going to witness a personal breakdown from damian. because no way do you prefer those scum over him! he's supposed to be your favorite, who are they to take his place?! you love him, you love them, you wanted attention from the family, didn't you?! you wouldn't be able to comfort him because he'd already wear his robin suit, ready to eliminate any of your friends who are younger than you because they don't deserve to be seen as your younger sibling, no matter if you had just blurted that out as retaliation for an argument.

what you had just said is serious, and bruce and dick wouldn't even try to stop that kid from slashing someone in broad daylight; dick choosing to cry and refusing to let you go from his arms as he babbles on about his delusional baby bird, trying his damn best to not let his temper get to him, trying so hard to not choke the ever living shit out of any of your older friends once you confess calling anyone of them your older brother— because him, jason, and tim are supposed to be the only ones you consider your older brothers, babybird!

hell, even tim and babs are already on the monitors ready to give damian each and every one of your friend's individual locations.

bruce especially, would be heartbroken that his child called someone else their father. that's his title. you calling him father, or dad, or papa, or any language that describes him to be your parental figure is the only thing keeping him sane. he hates it when his child only calls him bruce as if to describe a mere stranger, to which he knows he is to you— but it sounds wrong and it furthers the ache in his heart— and it's even worse if you chose to call someone else a father, chose anyone else than him as your dad.

batman is even more cruel in his patrol after your argument, punching the living hell out of any male criminals, picturing your voice playing over and over again calling them your father instead of him— it only makes him perceptive of jason's moral code. because what if you have fallen into the hands of anyone but him before he had come to take you back? he knows he isn't the best, was never there for you until now, but fuck, he needs to make it up to his child, and getting angry at you only worsens your already severed bond with him.

so you may expect a punishment, but it's already punishment towards you when you're now isolated inside the manor with only the presence of your siblings to comfort you throughout the nights where it gets too lonely during patrol time. bruce would have more than an hour long talk with you in his study, forcing you to confess every single thought you have about him and your siblings. he tells you it's all unrecorded, that there's no cameras to watch over your one-on-one confrontation— he just wants his baby's opinion on everything so they could adjust to your every whim, but really, it's all just a matter of them wanting to dive deep into your very thoughts like the invasive creatures they are.

the worst part of it all, is that nobody even dare mentions the names of your friends and their respective family. they listen to anything you say, because you already barely talk, but the moment you mutter about missing them, the topic would be shunned down by something, anything else. whether that'd be damian deciding that his older sibling should paint with him, or dick inviting you to watch him perform his acrobatic stunts.

it's a distraction you know you're susceptible to, because they all wish to take your thoughts away from those scum, as damian calls them, and instead have you focus on them, your actual family. those people are nothing to you, now that they're out of the picture.

... you should've chosen to be homeschooled instead of unintentionally getting your friends killed.

[zorciarkrildrush]

I think the essence of what drives me crazy about current Enlightened Online Leftist Discourse Regarding My Life Personally And Whether This Time Killing Me Is Morally Correct (as in, commentary about the latest episode in i/p violence) is this:

I want a free Palestine.

I don't personally know a lot of people that don't! They might bristle at the tagline, because it's co-opted by people who do in fact want them dead, but as soon as I lay out why it's in literally everyone's best interest, how a non-free Palestine is horrific both to the people of Israel and to the people of Palestine, how pragmatically ridiculous the occupation of the west bank and the siege upon Gaza are (and I am a very pragmatic person), they get it. And I don't mean I debate people online about it - this, too, is a ridiculous concept - I mean having, time and time again, the deradicalization conversation with my friends, and colleagues, and my family. Obviously not only now - I've always been a very principled and argumentative Jew, ever since I became an adult - and I've been alive for, I don't know, a dozen flashpoints and operations and wars at this point, and I don't stop being argumentative and loud in peacetime either, but especially now.

But that's not what "from the river to the sea" means.

When you, gentle soul from across the sea, echo this slogan, you are either:

By apathy or will, ignoring that the sentiment cheers for the mass expulsion and killing of Jews. Indeed, any non-Muslim present from the river to the sea. This doesn't even begin to cover how even Muslim arabs still will not be safe under Hamas rule - and trust me, I don't care if a Hamas apologist told you different. A victory for Hamas (And we're ignoring the fact they do not have the military capacity for it - I hope you are aware of the privilege inherent to not understanding military conflicts) means exactly that. No "rule by the people". No socialistic, Palestinian utopia to be had, which is a fantasy I'm seeing alluded to a lot recently. Just an extension of the horrific power structure in Lebanon and Syria, where Hezbollah - friends and allies to Hamas - have been playing a tango for decades of both refusing to participate in actual government and betterment of civilian lives, while still draining their resources and controlling them with no real contest. "From the river to the sea" is not a sentiment for freedom fighting - it's a sentiment for a final solution to the people living here who are either Jewish, or for some Very Strange And Weird Reason would rather not submit to Hamas rule. You know - Israeli Arabs, secular and Muslim and Christian, Druze, Circassians, Bahai, take your pick. Their suffering, and my suffering - you know, a person who made the strategic error of being born in Israel while Jewish, which is inherently problematic and not okay of me - don't matter to you. Just the fantasy of an easy, morally correct cleanse of the land.

Are well aware of all of the above! You just don't care. You either smugly chuckle that I, and anybody else who will die, deserve it - or that it's an acceptable loss for the aforementioned fantasy. "Decolonization is an inherently violent process", you'll say to me, chillingly, before implying I have a summer home in Brooklyn I can just retreat to when things get tough. Israel is basically Rhodesia, a very popular blog here mentioned flippantly, so what's the issue with all of those lily-white Jews fucking off back home before the righteous freedom fighters strike them down? Well. This might be the part I urge you to open a book, or even Wikipedia or any god damn thing that will explain to you these upsetting, dense things you clearly struggle with.

It's easy for me to discount islamophobes. Like, very easy. It's very easy for me to discount insane evangelistics who "advocate for me" simply because I'm a pawn in their religious rapture. It's easy for me to fight against Israeli and Jewish fascists - I have been long before this news item came across your feed, as did the insinuations that some civilian deaths are okay, actually.

It's easy for me for me to see promotions for donations to non-political aid in Gaza. It's easy for me to see the sentiment that hey! Palestinians deserve safe, healthy lives. That they have deserved an independent state, and were unfairly denied one, for decades. It's easy for me to see people saying "You know, the Israeli government is shit, actually, and their actions endanger and promote to the misery of innocents". Because that's right! I wouldn't be voting and protesting and donating for all of these sentiments otherwise!

It's not easy for me to see people, who I honestly held in high regard and saw having well thought out opinions on important matters, inadvertently echo the sentiment that my death is acceptable. That a terrorist organization, who rule over their own territory with fear and violence, are righteous freedom fighters, vox populi, only out to establish a free state. Like hey, their manifesto said otherwise, so it must be all there is - right? That Jews are just hysterical, they can easily live elsewhere - ever since that nasty holocaust business everything's fine abroad. Besides, it was just so long ago who even cares stop talking about it. Hamas, Hezbollah, ISIS, the Ayatollahs in Iran, the fucking Islamic Jihad - are not interested in freedom. They aren't, and echoing their slogan tells me you are either ignoring that, or support them anyway. If antisemitic rhetoric, half truths and lies by omission work on you today, they would have in any period of time. I'm sorry this makes you uncomfortable. I'm not, not really.

So finally:

Know what your fucking words mean. Have a cursory glance at the history of the MENA and why it's so fucked, one that doesn't boil down to "The Jews, with American help, rolled into where they don't belong". This isn't even a joke. I've seen this braindead, history-revising sentiment repeated so many times, both online and in actual textbooks, that I feel I'm going insane. So many well-meaning people handwringing and assuring each other that repeating genocidal slogans is fine, that calling the i/p conflict "a simple problem" (which means it has a simple solution, right? Just kill the Jews.) is a well-adjusted and intellectual take. That "only the Zionists should die! The rest will be fine :)" I dare you to say that and also give me a correct definition of what Zionism is. Why I, a Jew that advocates for Palestinian statehood and rights and safety and always have, won't also face the wall in your little fantasy.

Freedom to Palestine. Peace in the middle east, fucking yesterday.

A curse and a plague on those who don't want either of those, and just want to cheer on the death of "the other side".

A curse and a plague upon you, when you tell me, smugly, from somewhere safe and far away, "from the river to the sea".

[vaeylahh]

𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒀𝒐𝒖? 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖.

---------------------------------------------------

𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐂𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐘 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

Tw:: Slight mention of murder, smut, no plot porn, slight degradation (Reader insulting Toby Lol), soft!dom Toby, Power!sub reader, creampie, raw sex, use of weed, high Toby, cussing at every paragraph. (cuz the writer is immature)

𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝟭𝟴+ 𝗜 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗕𝗘 𝗪𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗠𝗨𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗢𝗥𝗦.

If i missed out any warnings please tell me..

---------------------------------------------------

It was a quiet night, living off by yourself and paying for your own tuition for college like every usual day because you insisted on being “independent”. That really fucked you up to the core. Your dark undereye and pale lips were the evidence of those sleepless nights. You've sometimes regretted the foolish decision you made but then again, it was better than living off with your family who gives you zero to no privacy at all.

You were in the kitchen-living room downing down the 6th cup of coffee for the day. Your eyes lazily trailing off through the darkness and the pure silence of this depressing environment. You're not ready to end the day yet, you needed to do some jack shit project that had nothing to do with your course at all and it was driving you insane.

After finishing off your coffee, you simply placed the mug onto the sink ready to go back to whatever work you're doing on your computer but then you jolted back in surprise when you heard an all too familiar voice call out to you from your couch. A soft groan escaped your lips when you realized who it was.

Relaxing your tensed up shoulder, you made your way to the couch and just as you predicted, there was Toby, lazily slouching and man spreading on your couch like he owned the place. You didn't even realize he was in here, you wanted to ask when and how he got here unnoticed but something caught your attention. His eyes, tho it was dark, you couldn't mistake it to be slightly reddish meaning he was probably, currently high right now, smoked weed with his little killer friends too. You crossed your arms as you watched the man giggle at your pissed off expression.

Have i mentioned that Toby, an infamous serial killer around your neighborhood happened to be a friend-ish? If that's what you want to describe to him as. He's tried to kill you before, turns out you were the wrong target, tried to kill you either way to keep his identity a secret but you managed to convince him somehow to keep you alive. He had other plans, to put you in 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘂𝘀𝗲 for.

"Hey..i-i hope you don't mind me dropping by.." he spoke in a breathy tone with a shit-eating grin plastered on his lips. He moved closer to the arm chair, tugging at your arm with his gloved hands to pull you down with him on the couch. His neck twitched once as he did. "Come on..you know yo-you want muh-me here, what's with the frown?.."

You narrowed your eyes down at him and followed suit to his advances. Tho you're pissed–why wouldn't you? It's not everyday somebody clings to you so desperately like this. "Have you been smoking weed? Fuck you stink.."

He ignored your insult and nuzzled his face against your neck, pushing you down on the couch, making you accidentally hit your head on the armrest. You hissed and lifted your head up in annoyance. "Sorry.." He murmured against your neck, lightly rubbing the spot where you hit your head as if he could magically make the pain go away. As if this man knows what pain felt like.

You gritted your teeth in annoyance, narrowing your eyes at him but let go of it soon enough as he cuddled up to you. The man 𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗞𝗦 with sweat, blood and dirt. Sometimes you don't even understand how your gut was strong enough to withstand this stinky man. "I-i missed you Y/N..rea-..really i did.." Toby whispered against your ear, nibbling at your earlobe.

"I don't, damn it. When was the last time you showered?" You spoke harshly thinking he was just gonna cuddle up to you like any other day but that thought was soon scrapped when he pushed your legs apart–quite literally smacking it. He ground his hips against yours lightly, whimpering at your ears like the submissive fuck he was. "Y/N..cuh-can i touch you?.." He whispered softly, his hot breath tickling your neck as he spoke.

Your mind short-circuited at his advances, it took you a good minute to realize what was happening and what he was implying. You laid there staring up at the ceiling with your mouth open trying to think of something to say. It didn't make any sense that you're freaking out now, It's not like this was your first time having him act like a horny teenager around you, this man had his whole adolescence robbed from him by his shitty father–but then again it caught you off guard.

"Well yeah but-.." before you could even finish your sentence, he was already straddling your hips while undoing the belt of his jeans with shaky hands. "Take..take-..this off..please" He spoke in a shaky, breathy voice, tugging at your shorts before going back to his own pants. "You're so pathetic sometimes you know?.." The words left your mouth without you even realizing it.

He whined at your insult, yet you could quite literally see the desperation in his eyes. His cheeks getting reader and he was getting sweatier than usual. You complied to his request or more like his demand, tugging your shorts down along with your underwear. He lifted his hips up a bit so you could pull it down further. "Yes..yes..juh-just like that.." his head twitching to the side from excitement as he stared at your folds.

He unzipped his pants, palming himself two to three times through his boxers before pulling out his half-hard shaft out. He held your hips with one hand, the other stroking his member to life as he focused at the way your body looked underneath him. His mind racing with the intense adrenaline of his previous mission and the person laying beneath him which was 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

You watched thoroughly as he stroked himself, muttering curses underneath his breath as he held you in position with his rough, gloved hand. He's already leaking pre-cum down to your lower stomach, The sight made you shiver throughout your whole body, all the way down to your slick folds.

With half-lidded eyes, he laid flat ontop of you again, nuzzling his face against your neck. His hand squishing between you two as he guided his shaft down at your wet folds. Slowly he sunk into your tight, gummy walls, making him whimper.

He placed one arm over your head while his free hand held your hips tightly, his nails digging onto your flesh enough to bruise.He lazily moved his hips, thrusting in and out of you slowly at first. "Oh shit...you-.. you're so good, so..th-tight.." he moaned against your ear before lightly biting down at your neck. he quickened his pace with each thrust, unable to hold back from the pent up frustration he's stored upon himself.

His weight, alongside the feeling of him biting down on your neck made you feel light headed. You close your eyes tightly, focusing on the perfect rhythm of his hips thrusting against yours. It makes your legs shaky but in a desperate attempt to keep him close, you wrapped your legs around him. The couch creaking beneath you as he went faster. "Jesus Christ.. Toby..slow down-" Your moans more noticeable than before from his roughness.

"Oh fuck-..FUCK! Ah-..mhm.. I'm gonna-.." Toby moaned louder along with you as he chased his orgasm. He felt a familiar tingle in his lower abdomen, his cock twitching with needs and with the last couple of thrusts, he was spilling himself deep inside you. He stayed inside of you, making sure his cum was buried deep within.

You held him tightly against your chest until the pleasure subsided, eyebrows furrowed and beads of sweat forming around your forehead. Slowly you opened your eyes again, adjusting to the darkness of the living room with only the moonlight's glow acting as a dim light for you to see. You ran your hand through the Brunette's hair, pushing his messy hair out of his face.

"You staying?.." You spoke in a breathy tone.  Toby responded with a simple hum as he adjusted himself around you. He held you tightly, making sure you won't leave him even after he fell asleep. It's not like you could anyway, he was heavy as hell.

[reidmania]

you're my best friend | spencer reid

summary; you tell spencer he is your best friend to you its a indication of more to him its rejection.

warnings; best friends to lovers expect they dont make it to lovers whoops, angst whoops again, i think all lovers should be best friends, (un) requited feelings (ur both idiots) its short and honestly i dont remember writing this, mentions of dating other people but like whatever

an; yk that line in ‘you are in love’ by taylor swift thats like pauses, then say, you’re my best friend, and you knew what it was, he is in love? thats what gave me this idea im also just really fucking sad tonight and i miss my ex idk im also trynna be aesthetic am i aesthetic

any other night you wouldn't of cared to notice the way the streetlights blarred through the raindrops on the window or how the dark clouds lined the sky covering every showing star in their path. you wouldn't have noticed any of that if you weren't so focused on beiing focused on anything else.

anything other than spencer reid who was sitting beside you, driving you home. the case you had just got back from was long and angonizing. it was a complete pain to get through and it wasn't a secret that the entirety of the team were all ready to get home to their families and their own beds.

so, you weren't exactly estatic when remembering you hadn't driven to the office a week ago after being called in for the case, you were instead dropped off by your friend after the two of you needed to talk.

so you were car-less, and tired.

spencer reid, your best friend and possibly the nicest person on earth offered to drive you home without a second thought. even though he was equally as tired and ready to curl up into his own bed, he said he would drive you home and then refused to listen to any argument about it.

"are you okay" your head snapped towards the sound of his voice, his eyes glancing between you and the road, obviously noticing the rather disorientated look covering your features as you stared out the windshield.

you nodded, eyebrows furrowing. "yeah- yeah im just tired" it wasn't a lie, you were tired. you were also insanely confused about the feelings weighing on your chest everytime your eyes lingered on his for a moment too long.

he hummed, eyes returning to the road. you took that as your chance to look back at his face, bad idea.

your eyes danced over the curve of his nose and the line of his jawline and then the softness of his eyes, the flutter of his eyelashes every time he blinked or squinted at the bright lights of the road. you studied every indent over the soft skin of his cheeks and cheekbones that you could see from his side profile and your stomach warmed.

you turned your head away when that feeling returned, the one you were hyperaware of. it made your stomach feel as if it was burning a hole in itself, your heart ache and flutter at once and your head spin with the fact that it was wrong. so wrong.

“how’s ethan” he asked, his eyes remaining set on the road as he voice remained soft and quiet, like it seemed to always be when he spoke to you.

your eyes widened for a brief moment of the guy you had been, half kind of dating — if you could even call it that. you had been on a few dates. ethan worked at the coffee shop not to far from the bullpen, and asked you out two weeks ago. being surrounded by derek, emily and spencer didn’t exactly help the overwhelming expectation that fell on your shoulders in that moment.

derek answered for you, actually, in that moment. he had said you’d love to, and then teased you the entire way back to the bullpen after getting your coffee and you didn’t have the heart to pull out of the date, it wasn’t actually that bad — there was just something not right.

the more you hung out with ethan the more you realised there wasn’t actually anything wrong with him, he was nice, respectful, he made you laugh and you could talk easily. he was nothing short of a gentleman.

it was just, every-time the two of you had a conversation you waited for a absentmindedly long ramble about something random or a correction on one of something you pointed , and it never came. you waited for doctor who to be brought up and it never was. the movies you watched with ethan were rom coms and chick flics, or comedy’s rather than documentaries, or science films, or films in other languages that you had to rely on subtitles for.

he wasn’t spencer.

that was the only issue, and that why you had broken off with him before you went on this case, actually you had just finished breaking it off with him when you got the call which was why you were car-less since he had dropped you off.

you couldn’t in good conscience keep hanging around ethan after realising you had feelings for your best friend. you told him the truth and how understanding and respectful he was about it only made the guilt build deeper in your ribcage.

“i broke it off” you told spencer honestly. you wouldn’t lie or play it off there was no point in that. spencer would find out eventually you just wished that being honest didn’t mean it would come with questions.

his eyebrows furrowed for a moment, as his eyes flickered between the road and your face for a moment, you kept your gaze to the ground of the car, focusing on the carpeted floor rather than the feelings that swarmed in your chest that you honestly wished would just swallow you whole and get you as far away from actually feeling them.

“why? did he do something?” it was curious and gentle, like he was genuinely worried that this guy had done something that had hurt you — and it made your chest ache painfully, you genuinely felt physical chest pain at the sound of his words as they processed through your mind.

you shook your head quickly anyways, “no, he was.. good, great.. i just— didn’t feel it, y’know?” you huffed out, eyes still refusing to meet his. you were scared if you did that the confession would come blabbering pass your lips without a second thought because you were so use to telling him everything.

he let out a sigh of relief, glad that you weren’t upset or that this guy hadn’t done anything to hurt you. “i get it” he replied, his voice was gentle and careful. you wondered if he genuinely did — he always seemed to have a power of just reading your mind yet this time you were almost sure that wouldn’t be the case.

the car was pulling into park out side the front of your house moments later, and you felt a sort of sick feeling in your stomach. one that was indescribable to a t. the sort of feeling that left a bad taste in the back of your throat and made your stomach twist, the sort that left goosebumps trailing down your arms and the hairs stand on the back of your neck.

he said your name so quietly as if he had something important he needed to say. for the first time that car ride, since you had left the bau you met his eyes and every emotion you had pushed down into the darkest part of yourself bubbled all up to the surface again.

his eyebrows were furrowed as if he was trying to debate something, lips parted then closed in indecision, before he let out a half shaky breath, his eyes studying your features like yours to his. you felt your stomach twist.

“i need to tell you-“

you cut him off and you didn’t even mean to, “you’re my best friend, spencer.” that was all you said.

and honestly it held so much weight to you it almost felt like a confession in itself, he was your best friend, he was your person. he knew you better then you knew yourself, he knew you better than anyone ever would, he memories every scar on your skin, every little thing that effected you in a way that differed from others, spencer knew you, you loved him and he was your best friend

he was your best friend in a, i want you in my life forever kind of way. i want you by my side no matter what life throws at us, i want to know that no matter what happens you remain a constant.

you needed him to remain constant.

his lips closed at your words, eyebrows furrowing a little deeper to the point the skin between the crinkled slightly. there was a flicker of something in his eyes that you would’ve noticed if he hadn’t pushed it away before you could.

“you’re my best friend too.” he breathed out.

to spencer, you were the sun. everything obits you and your existence, he would give anything to be a planet that was blessed enough to be in your orbit. if he got a glimpse of you throughout the day his heart would remain beating properly in his chest and his feelings would remain a little lighter on his mind, you were calming, you were his safe place. you were his favourite part of everyday.

you were the one thing that kept him from falling apart half the time. you were his best friend and he was in love with you, so in love with you that he shut his mouth every time you went on a date with a different guy, because if you were happy and he got to keep you as a part of his life he wouldn’t beg for different.

you were his best friend and so he pretended like his heart didn’t hurt so impossibly much when you came to him when those said dates didn’t work out or ended badly and you rambled about how you thought there was something wrong with you, because how could you think that when to him the entire solar system fought to be in your orbit?

if you hadn’t cut him off he would’ve told you all of that.

instead he watched you wave him goodbye as you walked back into your house, a weight on his chest, at the words left unsaid that danced on his tongue behind his closed lips. ‘you’re my best friend’

his mind replayed the words with the reminder that that was all he would be to you, that was all he could be and he wanted to fight it and pull back and tell you exactly how he felt and the deepness his feelings fell to,

but then again at least this way he meant something to you.

[whatifitis]

♡ I knew it, I know you - FC 43 ♡

Based off the song: I knew it, I know you by Gracie Abrams

Summary: You and Franco dated but when things took a turn with your career, your world got turned upside down.

Author's note: i was told i should add additional parts to this plot so lmk if that's something you guys would like to see <3

WC: 3309

CW: fights, brief mention of a car crash, a bit of angst i think

You swore to god, you hadn’t thought of him in ages. But there he was, plastered all over social media as a driver for Williams for the remainder of the season in F1. The man who absolutely destroyed you. But you had also destroyed him. You had destroyed each other towards the end of your relationship. 

You and Franco dated back when the two of you were in F2 and F3. The two of you had hit it off almost instantly, already so drawn to each other. You weren’t gonna lie, the two of you almost weren’t a thing. You are terrible at not only initiating, but also keeping conversations going. But the fact that Franco was so bold and carefree, he was able to stick with you till you opened up out of your shell, which was truly insane to you. And you’re grateful for him and everything he has done for you, no matter what went down all that time ago. 

The two of you were always there for eachother, whether one was winning races or not. You would always scream the loudest when he won. Every single time he was on the podium, you’d be so incredibly proud of him, standing there watching in awe, tears streaming down your face. You’d never met someone so perfect. 

He was so different from anyone you’d ever met. He was valiant, hilarious, strong, and so beautiful, on the inside and out. He knew you’d often struggled with your mental health and maintaining relationships, whether platonic or romantic. But he stayed, he actually stayed, through all your faults. He loved you anyway. He was the best thing that ever was yours. 

But now it’s like he’s on another planet, you wonder how the weather is there. 

While you were proud of him for making it to F1, you still couldn’t help but feel a bit of annoyance. The two of you would often talk about the future together. The plan was always to work your asses off and make it to F1 together. He was gonna be the first Argentinian driver in ages, and you were gonna be the first woman in ages to drive in F1. During this time, you guys were gonna save money and buy your dream home together. He’d always wanted a big patio where you two could do barbeques together, where he could bring his family. He also wanted a pool where everyone could enjoy their time together, away from the cameras and chaos. 

But now those dreams are just that. Dreams. 

The breakup wasn’t necessarily mutual or on good terms. Franco initially wanted to work things out and talk but you didn’t think it’d fix anything. Things were already getting rocky as your racing career was coming to an end. After a bad accident all those years ago, you weren’t able to get back in the car. And for that, you were so angry. Racing was all you could do, you didn’t have a backup plan. Your anger got the best of you and you were taking it out on those around you. Franco got the worst of it though wanting to do his best to help you, but all it did was make you feel pitied. 

Things just kept spiraling from there, til you officially ended things with him. 

It was the night after the F2 race in Monaco. You had been there the whole weekend, cheering on all your friends. You were making your way to see Franco but you were stopped by a journalist. You weren’t really in the mood to speak to a stranger but you decided it wouldn’t do any harm to stop for a minute or two. 

The journalist was a young man, about your age and a bit taller than you. 

“Hello, thanks for taking a moment to speak with me.”

You simply smile at him, still not feeling all that sociallike. 

“I just wanted to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright.”“Sure. Hit me.”

“My first question is, how does it feel to have had to drop out of racing due to your crash back in Australia?”“Oh well, you know, it didn’t feel great. I’m super disappointed in my performance from that day and of course not being able to race again has been a big struggle. I miss it a lot, but there’s nothing I can do now besides keep going. I’m still gonna come to some of the races and cheer on and support my friends.”

“Amazing. Now, how does it feel to know you won’t be the next woman in Formula 1? To know that you’ve essentially let down so many women, young and old, with you leaving the sport?”

You were honestly baffled by that question. Why the fuck would he ask that? Who in their right mind asks that? 

You seriously had no words, so you simply nodded your head and walked away. 

When you reached Franco, he could practically smell the rage emanating from you. 

“Amor, what’s wrong?” going to touch your arm, before you quickly pull away.

“Nothing. Let’s go.” 

Your shortness with him wasn’t new at this point, so he stayed quiet till you guys reached your flat.

Once you guys had walked in, he was quick to ask what happened at the track that led you to be stomping around with smoke coming out your ears. You told him everything that happened with the journalist, and he was nothing but sorry that something like that had happened to you. He knew how hard your transition was into a life without racing. 

“Baby, I know things are hard right now, but we can figure it out. This isn’t the end.” Franco tried to reason with you. But all you could see was red, feeling an intense pressure and heat in your chest. 

“You don’t even get it. My career is over, everything I’ve worked towards is gone. I have nothing left.”

Your words hit Franco, like a knife. You had nothing left? What about him?

“There are so many things you can do. We’ll find something that works for you. Stop being negative and actually try.” 

“Fuck you. I am trying, you don’t understand how hard this is. Everything’s working for you. Your life is perfect and amazing. Stop pitying me. I’m not a child.”

Somewhere in the chaos in your mind, you had lost all sense of where you were and who you were talking to. All you knew was that you were screaming everything you felt. 

Your mind was racing, you weren’t making total sense. 

After the race today and having dealt with you these past few months, he was tired. He wasn’t gonna coddle you and go easy on you anymore. 

“Well you’re sure acting like one. You need to grow up. Shit happens and you have to deal with it. Not everything will work out in life, you just have to deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say. Your life is perfect and you have everything you want.”

“If I had everything I wanted, then I wouldn’t have a girlfriend who’s giving up. I’d have a better girlfriend.” 

What? Did he really just say that? I hate when we fight, sucks when we fight. 

“I can’t pretend I’m sorry, when I’m not sorry. All I’ve ever done was my best when it comes to you and us. Unfortunately your girlfriend is awful.” 

You looked him in the eye one final time, “Get out. We’re done.” 

“That’s it? You’re gonna give up so easily?” he lets out a huff, “Typical of you to give up, again. Let me know when you’ve grown up.” 

With the slamming of the door, he was gone. That was the last time you saw him.

After a few days of radio silence from you, Franco felt abandoned. He’d already felt lost when you told him to leave, the second the door slammed closed, he almost went back in through the door to fix everything. It felt as if you didn’t care about his feelings, like he’d been cut a thousand times. Franco actually struggled to keep it together. He didn’t realize how much he needed you in his life. He didn’t realize how he depended on you, on your support, your touch and how it kept him sane and stable when everything around him was just pure chaos. 

It was hard for him to race after that day. And words could never describe how his heart hurt when he got called up to F1, when he got a seat. He immediately thought of you, he was living your dream after all - he couldn’t even share the experience with you, you weren’t by his side anymore. You were gone. 

Until now. 

Since that day, you have been working on yourself. You were in therapy now and continuing school to become an engineer. You thought, maybe since you can’t be in the car, you could work around it or with it. Things had been looking better. You started to surround yourself with love and support from your friends and family. 

You were on a work trip in Texas, helping a company work on a new up and coming project that could be innovative, when you got a call from an old friend. Oscar had seen through social media that you were in Texas, and invited you to see the race at COTA. When he initially offered the invitation, you almost didn’t go since you didn’t think it’d be a good idea, considering how you and Franco had left off. But it had been years, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You would be able to go and support the rookies and maybe make up with Franco. 

It’s not like you didn’t feel love for him anymore. Maybe you two could work things out and get back to where you were. So you told Oscar you’d be at COTA. 

“That’s great! I’m so glad you’ll be able to make it. It’s been so long and I’m sure Lily would love to see you too.” “Omg, I’m so excited to see her again! I’ve missed her so much.” “Yeah. So, I’m sure you’ve heard. Franco is driving for Williams for the rest of the season, so he’ll be at COTA. Will you guys be able to keep it civil if you run into each other?”

“I can. I’ve lived a lot and I’ve let the rain in since everything. It’s just a matter of how he’ll react.” “I’m not gonna lie, I think he’s been waiting for an apology from you. Er, at least he did for a while.” “Yeah, he deserves one from me. I was pretty shitty to him, I know that now.” 

“I’m glad you were able to sort everything out on your end, hopefully you two can be friendly again.” “Maybe. I gotta go, Osc. Talk soon.”

“Talk soon.”

The amount of various feelings flowing through your body was making you physically shake. You were excited, nervous, happy, and everything mixed into one. 

You pull up Franco’s contact, thinking it’d be better to reach out and arrange a meeting rather than bombarding him at the track. 

You must have typed and deleted about 50 messages before settling on a simple “hey”

Franco didn’t expect to see your name show up on his screen. He chuckled bitterly at the irony of life, bringing you back onto his path after being the one to send him away. He doesn’t even know how he feels about you anymore. 

“Hey” he replied

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. You?”

“I’m okay”

Three minutes pass, you simply just stare at the screen, not knowing how to proceed. You watch as three dots float on the corner of your screen. 

“What do you want?”

Damn, harsh much?

“I was wondering if you wanted to meet up sometime this weekend? Oscar invited me to watch the race and I thought maybe we could talk. I think I’ve calmed down since the last time we spoke.”

“Sure. I don't know when exactly I’ll be available but I can text you closer to the weekend”

“That sounds good. Thanks for being cool about this.”

“No problem, see you soon.”

He was quick to cut the conversation. Maybe he's just busy. You decide to put your phone away and focus on some work stuff. 

The weekend comes around quickly and you find yourself wandering around the paddock alone. You weren’t able to make it Friday, but at least you’re here for qualifying. You managed to get a few minutes with Oscar and Lando, catching up a bit before they had to get ready for qualis. You made your way to where you were gonna watch the race, texting Franco at the same time. 

He was letting you know he’ll be able to meet up with you after the race today. You were so incredibly nervous because you wanted things to work out between the two of you. You missed him. He was your best friend, and you guess that was the worst part of losing him. If he just said when, you’d play again because you felt more in brief moments with him, than with anyone else. 

You sat down and watched the qualifiers, screaming and cheering everytime one of your boys passed someone or did something impressive. You didn’t realize how much you’d missed this. Watching and cheering on your friends from the sidelines. It felt good to watch them achieve their dreams, even if you couldn’t reach yours. Franco ended up in P6, which was impressive considering he’s only raced a few times in an F1 car, and he’s in a Williams car. 

After about 20 minutes, Franco texted you, letting you know to meet him in his driver's room. You made your way to his room after getting lost for about 8 minutes, when someone eventually felt bad for you and pointed you in the right direction. 

You walked up the steps to his room, standing there for a minute, nervous about seeing him. It’s been about 2 years since you last saw each other. You wonder if he looks any different now. Of course you’d seen his pictures around, but sometimes the cameras don’t catch certain things. Like how his eyes are essentially a kaleidoscope of everything you’ve ever loved, how his nose crinkles a bit at the bridge when he’s happy. 

Fuck it, enough stalling. You knock on the door and wait there for a response. After a minute, you don’t hear one so you assume you didn’t knock loud enough. You raise your hand to knock again when the door swings open. When it opens, your eyes quickly find his. 

He looks deep in your eyes, trying to find a glimpse of the past in them, a recollection of the memories you shared together, but it���s like you’re not there anymore. Sure, you’re standing right infront of him, but the you that he knew, the one he fell in love with, is missing. 

“Hey” he said softly. 

“Hey” 

You two stood there in silence for a moment, sort of processing that you’re seeing eachother again in person. As if your brains are trying to decipher whether this is real or a hallucination. 

The silence breaks when Franco shakes his head and clears his throat, 

“Come in.” he says, holding the door open for you. 

You walk in, brushing past him. 

The room is spacious, quiet, yet suffocating. 

You walk to the middle of the room, feeling a bit self-conscious. Turning back to face Franco, you watch as he closes the door and turns his body to you. 

“So’’ he says. 

“So”

“What did you want to talk about?” 

“I wanted to catch up, see how you’re doing. A lot has changed since the last time we saw each other.” you look down, swallowing a gulp before continuing, wringing your hands together, “I also wanted to apologize, for everything. The way I had acted all those years ago, especially towards the end. I wasn’t being fair to you and all you wanted to do was be there for me.”

“It’s fine.” he replies, leaning against a counter, crossing his arms over his chest, not giving you an ounce of emotion.

The burning sensation he feels in his chest now isn’t love anymore - instead it’s a mixture of pain and anger, feeling a riot form in his emotions. He’s wasting time on listening to someone who kicked him to the side without caring about how you had let him down when he needed you the most. 

Well, you didn’t know what to expect, but it surely wasn’t that dry and short answer. 

“That’s it? I came all this way to come and see you and apologize, and all I get is ‘fine’?!”

“I said ‘it’s fine’ actually.” 

Why was he being like this? You get that you fucked up a lot and that you had hurt him, but if this was how he was going to act, you weren’t sure if you wanted to continue this conversation. 

“Why did you even agree to talking to me, if this is how you’re gonna act?”

“How am I acting?” “Like you don’t give a fuck. Like you just wanna gloat, see how badly I was doing. You don’t know how to step outside yourself.” “You think so little of me? It’s not my fault you can’t sit with the hard thing.”

“Well when the proof is in the pudding then yeah. Are you even sad about the fact that we don’t talk anymore? That all we had is gone?”

“I’m not the one who ended things, you were. You’re the one who ruined us.” 

“I blew all my plans, just to get to talk to you today. I’m trying to fix everything that I broke but you’re not letting me.” “Maybe you aren’t trying enough.” he says as he pushes off the counter and walks towards you, stopping a few inches from you. Close enough that you can feel each other's breathing. 

“Not trying enough? Or not enough for you? For your deluded self?”

“I’m not the problem here, especially considering I’m the one driving in F1.”

“I should be the one with this chance, not you! All you have is an inflated ego and your shallow thinking.”

“I was the one who worked my ass off to get here. I’m sorry you couldn’t join me in this like we had planned, but it’s not my fault that things fell this way.”

“I should be in your seat, not you!” 

“No, you don’t deserve this seat. I actually put in the work to be here.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I earned my way through those races. I was one of the best.”

“Keyword: was.”

“You know that crash stopped me from driving. I can’t get back in the car.” “Can’t or won’t” 

“Can’t”

“No, you’re just a fucking pussy. You’re too scared to get back in the car cause you know you can’t do it. You can’t amount to anything.You know that even if you get back in the car, you’ll never get a seat in F1.”

You stand there for a beat. You never knew he could be so mean. Maybe you brought it out of him. 

It’s all your fault. You’re the problem. 

You feel the tears threatening to spill. You take a breath before saying, “I thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn't lose.”

He looks you up and down, lip twitching, “I guess I lied. I had the wrong idea about you.”

An all too familiar sight, his back, as he walks out the door, again, because of you. 

You really thought you would get what you wanted. But what did you want?

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

It feels like hope.

Pairing: Hot Priest!Joel Miller x f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 5700

Rating: Strictly +18, MINORS DON’T INTERACT

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, priest kink, catholic guilt, religious kink, smut, unprotected p in v (use protections IRL!), reader has breasts and vagina and hair that can be pulled and wears a shirt and a skirt, apart from that no other description is given, age is not mentioned but they’re both grown up adults and reader is only inexperienced because she grew up in a very catholic family, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), sex in a rectory, hair pulling, blasphemy all over the place 💀, pussy pronouns she/her, drinking, two hits on nipples, improper use of liturgical objects, cream pie, pet names (angel, baby), reader calls him "Father" during sex, mention of hell, mention of porn videos, mention of masturbation, improper use of prayers, God named in vain, another thing that I won’t spoil... listen, this thing is filthy, probably the filthiest more immoral thing I've ever wrote, ok? If you think you can't handle it just scroll down to another story.

This is a revised version of something I had already posted and then deleted because I personally didn't like it.

It took me months to come to an end with it, I don’t know why, I’ve changed a lot of things, I’ve changed the pov, I’ve changed dynamics etc… I really really hope you will enjoy it and please be gentle with me, I really tried hard even if you would think it’s no good.

English is not my first language and I have no beta so any mistake is all my fault, I’m sorry.

Title is a Fleabag quote, specifically from our beloved hot priest “when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope”

Thanks to everyone who has shown interest in this story, thanks to those who were there from the beginning (you know who you are and I love you) and thanks to anyone who will read 🩷

(Just added a brief note at the end 😉)

It all started on a Sunday. 

You came to your neighborhood church expecting a nice function and you exited knowing you were doomed. 

That Sunday you met the new parish priest.

From the first moment you felt like something in you was compromised. 

You couldn't even explain it to yourself and you had never felt like this, it was something so unfamiliar. 

A need you’ve never felt before.

Your eyes glued to his holy form, adoring his raven curly hair, his scruff, the curve of his neck, his strong nose, plump lips, broad shoulders, thick thighs, big hands.

Courteous and kind as he greeted parishioners leaving the church, he shook your hand and you felt a jolt.

You weren’t like this before, you did things to do good to others before. But now…

Volunteering for every event, clothing drive, bake sale, children's shows. You were always there for the ride. Making excuses to talk to him.

Wondering if he had any more freckles than the ones on his neck, how warm his skin would be, how manly and intoxicating his scent would be, what his kisses would taste like, what his fingers would have felt like inside your cunt, peeking at the outline of his cock under his black pants.

A perfect Christian girl who would have make your mother proud on the outside, a raging hell of arousal on the inside.

You couldn’t believe that he was him who had awakened this new person inside you, insanely hungry, wanting, needing to taste, lick, bite. 

His low gruff voice grueling from his chest echoed against your damp inner walls so much that you were almost afraid to get up after the mass and see a stain where you were seated.

It was more and more difficult every time to fight your urge, stay on the tracks of life that you were taught to live, no sex before marriage, no masturbation because it’s a sin, no impure thoughts because you were a good girl.

Yet now you could hear them, all those voices crowding your head, pushing you towards something you had been taught was wrong.

Entering the church you were trembling, guilt pulsing in your gut.

Everything was quiet and serene, your eyes wandered on the frescoed walls, the organ, the large altar and the wooden benches neatly lined up in rows in the central nave, your steps sounded uncertain and timid on the marble floor.

You entered the confessional feeling your heart beating wildly in your chest, palms sweating and your mouth dry.

You could hear his breathing through the grate.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned” 

The following silence weighed like never before.

“Open your heart to the Lord so He can forgive your sins”

And you had confessed. 

The words slipped from your mouth like pearls from a broken necklace, finally rolling free between your lips revealing your every sordid thought.

The girl shaped by catholic parents to be a modest virgin, mother and maid, perfect smile and delicate manners was in reality a shameful bundle of filth.

You were a sinner.

A sinner eaten out from dirty thoughts.

You told him how you couldn't stop thinking about him, how you had questioned your feelings and who you were as a person, how you hadn't spent a night without touching yourself thinking about him in many months.

You told him about your desire to kiss him and more. So much more. Everything.

Every single time you lowered your hand in your panties, every single time you squeezed your breasts, driven by instinct and desire, every single time you thought of him as Joel. Just Joel, a man.

You just wanted to let go of the weight on your chest, coming clean. If you said it all out loud you would have realized how crazy it was.

You heard the door snapping, a few heavy steps close to where you were seated, the door opening to your side.  

Suddenly he was there, standing in front of you.

He said nothing, only grabbed your arm, dragging you to the rectory.

Dust in the air danced beneath the soft light that came in from two small windows high up.

There wasn't much in the room, a cupboard where liturgical objects were kept, a table, a wardrobe where the clothes for the service were hung.

Nobody was there except the two of you, you could hear the rumble of his breathing and your heart drumming behind your rib cage.

He was staring at you. 

Your mouth sealed, a lump in your stomach.

You thought about the day he tried to teach you how to play guitar.

You were here, together, helping with the Christmas party. He was sitting strumming when you walked in, you tried not to surprise him from behind by pretending to cough and he turned to you. He didn’t stop playing as he greeted you, you told him “I didn’t know you played” and he invited you to try. As you sat down your legs were shaking, he gave you the guitar and you just stared at it, fingers uncertain and mind empty. 

“It’s not that hard” he told you and he leaned over you taking one of your hands in his and placing it on the neck of the guitar, moving your fingers over the strings “like this. Now play”

You strummed on the guitar and an unpleasant sound came out, you both laughed softly at your clumsiness and a flood of pleasure slicked your panties.

His breath on you was like a caress, you felt the minty scent grazing at your nostrils.

For a moment, just for a moment you thought, “I could turn around right now and kiss him. A few inches and my lips would be on his.”

Your desire flowed before your eyes, leaving you with nothing else to look at.

“But I can’t. I can’t.” 

You've tried to swat away that sinful thought with another strum on the guitar but nothing disappeared, instead it burned in your core even strongly than before.

You thought about that day when the rain caught you on your way to set up the bake sale, how you walked into the rectory soaked from head to toe, how he looked at your shirt stuck to your skin that left little to the imagination, how you instinctively covered yourself when you just wanted to let your arms hang at your sides and let him look at you. You saw a reaction in his eyes as he mumbled that he was going to get you a towel, just a moment before he regained his composure, and it was enough. You knew that he was not indifferent to you. That night you touched yourself imagining what it would be like if he took your shirt off, if he placed his lips on your neck, his tongue on your breast, his cock inside you.

You started to navigate on porn sites daily, out of curiosity first and then because you needed to see, you needed to imagine, you needed to visualize something so unfamiliar and strange to you. 

You were ashamed, but at the same time you couldn't help it, it was the only resource you could think of looking for and it was there, on your phone, private, no one would have known. You didn't even imagine you would find so many, a whole catalog of big dicks, huge tits, positions that your brain couldn't conceive.

Seeing those women pleasuring themselves scared you but at the same time attracted you, you wanted to be like them, you wanted to reach that pleasure, you wanted to try their way of using their hands, you wanted to refine your clumsy way of reaching that heat between your legs.

You sinked into it.

If your parents had known, if your community had known, you would have been branded an unworthy woman, a pervert, a slut.

But your parents were far away now, your whole life was somewhere else and you were proud to have freed yourself from the golden cage they had locked you in. You were an adult now, it was the moment to choose for yourself. If they hadn’t always denied you any other vision of the world, if they hadn’t forbidden you to have the experiences that everyone has in their youth, maybe it wouldn’t have happened this way.

His mouth was a thin line, tensed, you looked into his eyes and you saw nothing than dark.

So much different from the gentle detachment he had always shown to everyone, his look was a mixture of concern, agitation, maybe a hint of fear, but most of all - to your great surprise - sexual arousal.

You could see him cracking behind those eyes, you could feel his mind filling with all sorts of questions.

His voice was barely a whisper but sharp as a blade when he finally spoke “Are you even honest with that ‘I am a good christian’ thing? Say the truth”

You hesitated, the uneasiest bitter taste in your mouth.

“I-” your throat felt like atrophied “yes” you tried to say.

“No, you’re not. The least you could do is being fucking honest with Him” he raised his finger pointing it at the ceiling.

You’ve never heard him cursing before.

You looked down feeling the weight of your stomach turn to lead and then concrete and if you thought you were free now you felt even more guilty. 

You said the only thing your brain could think of at that moment and you knew what you were asking for, you knew what it would do to him and you knew that in this way you would drag him down with you. And yet you did it anyway, because desire was stronger than anything, than faith, than lies, than truth.

“I need-I need to repent. Teach me” you pleaded “teach me how to be good”

Something lit up in his gaze, like a spark of hell, a glow of lust.

He turned around and you hungrily followed his every move.

His hands moving expertly, the cupboard opening, him taking out the mass wine and pouring it into a chalice.

You saw him down the entire glass, without hesitation, without a shred of tremor.

You felt like you were watching a hurricane approaching, just waiting for the wind to suck you in without being able to do anything else.

You wanted it. You wanted it to sweep you away, to make you someone else, braver, indomitable, someone who wasn’t afraid to say what she wanted because of a belief that had been instilled in her, someone who was simply herself. 

We are all born with guilt, you told yourself. I am tired, tired of dealing with mine so much.

You just wanted to feel alive, to feel something authentic and fierce, no half measures. 

You wanted to be desired in a way that felt relentless and desperate, like air that is necessary to keep humans alive, something unique and undeniable.

Could Joel read it in your eyes? He was so good at reading people, you could tell it right away. 

He had guessed a lot about you, he had noticed how coffee was a weakness of yours - and his - and he offered you a cup first thing in every meeting.

He had noticed how nervous Danny, a parishioner who liked to play the fool with any woman present, most often in front of his wife, got you and made sure to never leave you alone with him.

He had noticed how much you enjoyed sewing and had assigned you the costumes for the play and praised your work. 

And he did the same with the guitar that day when he saw how enthusiast and curious you were about it. He didn't say it openly, but his gestures spoke for him.

He came closer to you again, bending the chalice to your mouth and said “drink”. Sharp, cold, an order.

At that point you didn’t care it was something you were not supposed to do, forbidden, maybe unholy even, you just drank. 

You were dealing with a part of yourself that always existed but you had put that in a box.

Joel looked into your eyes sternly and said: “Show me the good Christian that you think you are. Pray.”

“What?”

“Pray. Right now” 

“What prayer?” You asked, confused.

“You're not starting off well, you should know that.” He smirked, caught you in fail.

“Act of contrition” you whispered and he nodded “yes. That’s right.”

He was just inches away from you, his crucifix hanging between your bodies, grazing at your stomach. 

You began to recite in a low voice, stumbling over your words, your brain couldn’t think straight:

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest… all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offended Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving all my love.”

You said it dozen of times before and yet it seemed totally different in that moment. 

Joel took off his rosary, letting it dangle from his hand and swing across your chest. Beads brushed against the cotton bra you wore under your blouse, making your nipples harden, you could feel them pushing against the fabric.

“Go on”

“I- I firmly resolve with the help of Thy grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen”

“Take off your shirt,” he told you in a whisper.

Something shifted inside him “and your bra”

His voice was no longer the same, it came from deep within him, frighteningly authoritarian but to you it seemed like a magic instrument that was hypnotizing you.

You did what he told you. 

You were half naked in front of a man for the first time. It could have happened before, much before, but of course you couldn’t because you never got married. No one was supposed to see your body except the man you were going to take to the altar. That’s what they taught you.

Joel looked at you, entranced, almost in disbelief. You wondered how long it had been since he’d seen someone else’s naked body, what effect it had on him. 

You were more alike than you seemed, both of you denied something because of religion. 

You were both more needy and frustrated than you were allowed to admit. Tension hung in the air like a fog that clouded both of your gazes.

Every time you had talked to him you had noticed the way he looked at you but you thought it was all in your head, like you were a poor naive girl who was building castles in the air, but now you knew that wasn't the case.

It was another thing you shouldn’t have done but you prayed deep down that he wouldn’t decide to stop.

He raised his arm, clutching his rosary. You felt a slash through the air and then a sharp smack on your nipple.

You looked down shocked as the pain quickly turned into a dull pleasure rising from the pit of your tummy, to fade more and more, becoming a tingling sensation.

You liked it.

You wanted more.

He did the same at your other breast and all the breath you had left in your body had slipped past your lips in a lustful sob.

He took one of your nipples between his fingers, twisting and pinching it and you couldn’t help but moan. A sound you never made for no one and you made it first for a priest.

His body pushed you against the wall, his breath on your neck, his fingers didn't stop torturing your nipple. Everything you saw was red. Red like the passion you had never felt before, red like the blood that pulsed in your veins, red like sin.

“Kneel” he said firmly.

You were equal parts scared of making a fool of yourself and eager to try.

You knelt down, feeling the cold of the floor touch your shins. 

His eyes were as uncertain as yours, it was new territory for both of you but you saw a flame burning in him and you felt it inside you. 

His face was serious, tense, as if he was ashamed of what he was doing but couldn't contain. 

He was punishing you and punishing himself at the same time.

You weren’t afraid though, you were ready to face what was eating you up and you trusted Joel for some reason. You could see in him that he wouldn’t hurt you. At least not more than you wanted.

Your tentative fingers undid his pants, letting them sag around his ankles. A pronounced erection protruded from his boxers as his eyes almost begged you, they weren’t cruel and ruthless eyes, but rather needy and guilty.

You moved your hand closer to his crotch, hesitating for a moment before placing it there, testing the sensation, opening your fingers around it to realize how thick it was. You could feel the heat through the fabric. You caressed it, feeling the tremor that shook Joel's body. Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away, it was the first time you had seen one in person, you were amazed and attracted. You continued to caress him until you heard a grunt leave Joel’s lips and a stain wet the front of his boxers. You were struck by how much he was growing under your hand and the smell, like musk, pungent but not unpleasant.

You remembered the videos you had seen, how women did it, looking into the men's eyes lustfully, with a confidence and naturalness you had never acquired. You wanted to be like them, but you were afraid of being ridiculous or grotesque.

You slowly pulled down his boxers, gasping at the sight of his cock springing free. 

Joel had his eyes fixed on you, they were encouraging somehow, he made you feel safe but the trembling of your fingers did not stop. You took his shaft in your hand again and were surprised at how soft his skin was there, velvety. You watched that thin layer of skin retract as you moved your hand up and down like you had seen in the videos, it felt incredible. It was heavy, hot and throbbing. It was uncut. His big balls hanging right under. You ran your thumb over the tip, collecting the pre-cum that was leaking, spreading it around.

Joel was quiet, he let you do it.

He was touch starving, just like you.

You lowered your head and licked him, just with the tip of your tongue. A timid lick, like a kitten.

His taste, matching the musky scent you could smell, invaded your mouth in an instant. You had never tasted anything like it. You braced yourself, while Joel waited, and licked once more, this time starting at the base and working your way up.

Joel groaned.

You pulled away, looking into his eyes, he brought a hand to your cheek and then to your chin and took it in his palm. 

“You are so beautiful” he whispered.

And you felt beautiful, you felt like someone was really seeing you for the first time. And you loved that that someone was him.

You took a deep breath and lowered your head onto his cock, you knew you couldn't fit it all in your mouth, but you wanted to take as much as you could.

“Don’t force yourself” Joel murmured as your lips touched his skin, causing another whine.

“I want to do it” you replied resolutely, you were loving hearing him whimper beneath you.

His length slid across your tongue, wet and salty, your lips closing around it.

You closed your eyes and focused on that feeling, just holding it there, nestled inside.

“Suck it,” Joel commanded gently, bringing a hand into your hair and twining his fingers there.

You were unsure how to do it, you tried to suck it in as if you were using a large straw, with all the breath you had.

Joel flinched, almost losing his balance “Easy, baby” he muttered

You pulled away again, eyes widened “oh my god, I’m sorry” almost afraid of having hurt him but he immediately reassured you "no it's okay, just... go slower, go slower if you don't want me to come right away”

“Uh- okay” responding timidly to the smile that was spreading across his face.

You began to suck again more calmly, holding the base tightly with your hand, feeling it pulsate between your fingers and on your tongue.

It was an addictive sensation, spreading through your synapses like a drug.

Obviously you had never tried any drugs, but you imagined that the sensation might be similar to something like that.

Joel still held your head, his grip tightening as you continued, you could feel his body tense and respond, and you liked it. You liked it more than you ever liked putting on your Sunday best and going to say prayers with your parents like you always had.

There was actually a prayer that was ringing in your head and it was Joel's, who softly repeated "just like that, you're being so good to me”

It was exhilarating.

You felt like you had a true gift, for once in your life.

An obscene gift, but still.

You had the courage to run from your mom and dad and then at what felt like a minute later you found yourself there, naked from waist up, on your knees, sucking a priest cock.

You’ve never felt more alive.

Deep down you were exactly that person there, not a whore like everyone you knew would say. Just a woman, a woman who wanted what other women wanted. Sex, pleasure, being important to someone or just not being condemned to do what others wanted for you.

You continued to suck as Joel's breathing became heavier and more labored.

At that point he was just uttering disconnected phrases like “oh my God” and “Yes, go on”, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

Suddenly he started shaking violently, almost falling, as something warm and sticky hit your throat. You knew what it was and you were eager to swallow, as you had seen done in so many videos.

A little of it slipped from your lips, down your chin, onto your neck.

Joel's hand was still in your hair, it almost hurt but it was a delicious pain that you were enduring, a small punishment for the rush of adrenaline and excitement that was coursing through you.

You kept holding his cock in your mouth until you felt it relax.

“Get up,” Joel said gently, still out of breath, as he was fixing his boxers and pants.

Your knees almost gave out, you leaned against the wall feeling wetness on your panties.

Joel came closer to you, placing a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a deep kiss that left you stunned for a second and then you were more than happy to reciprocate. His tongue in your mouth explored feverishly, you wondered if he could taste himself from your lips.

He pulled out saying “I’ve never done anything like this before” and you replied “me neither.” 

And then he was on your lips again, nibbling at your lower one, placing his hand on your thigh, raising it under your skirt, up to your drenched panties, grazing them with his fingers.

You squirmed, moaning a “yes, please” from down your throat, a tingle spreading on your outer lips, in your tummy, up to your chest.

He put his hand inside your panties, brushing your skin.

“What should I do with you?” He asked, in an almost desperate tone, as if he knew he couldn't stop and was asking permission not to.

“Make me come” you pleaded “Please.”

He sighed, pulling your panties aside and sliding his index and middle fingers between your folds, gathering your wetness up to your clit, starting circling it as you writhed. 

It was different than when you did it yourself, his fingers bigger and stronger, his touch a little clumsy but still effective and intoxicating.

His mouth landed on your neck, stifling a moan, sucking a hickey where it joined your shoulders, nibbling hungrily at your skin.

“Have you ever done this before?” 

“Just…me” 

He smirked “have you ever put your fingers inside you?” 

“I- yes.” there were no point on beating around the bush, you told him that you touched yourself thinking about him. You were already deep down into that dizzy. 

“Put your fingers in me” you added immediately “I want to feel them, please Joel, I want to know what they can do to me” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes, yes.” You breathed.

He prodded at your entrance,  just a little bit, making you whine just with his fingers tip.

The rosary lay abandoned on the floor, you could see it out of the corner of your eye and you didn't care about that eyewitness symbol of what was happening between you two.

You would have liked him to put it around your neck while he fucked you, fully participating in that sinful act. 

You were surprised yourself at what you were thinking but somehow it made you even more eager.

You felt two of his fingers sink inside you, filling that void that you had never been able to fill enough on your own, stretching you. 

It hurts a little at first because they were bigger than yours, but then it was more heavenly than anything else. If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

Joel looked ecstatic “God, she’s so… wet” he whispered “and warm” His face was the representation of pleasure, lips slightly parted, his eyes wide, his pupils dilated, his heavy breathing blowing on your neck.

He began to move his fingers inside you rhythmically, each thrust making you shake and sob, a litany of “yes” coming out strangled from your mouth.

He went slowly, taking his time, as if he was savoring every second of your pussy tightening around his fingers.

He placed his other hand on your breast again, cupping and squeezing and then twisting your nipple. Big hand full of your tit.

It was beautiful. You didn’t know how or why people could deny themselves that, but you certainly wouldn’t do it again, not after having Joel inside you. He curled his fingers, looking for the right way to make you feel the pleasure you wanted, the one you kept asking for.

“You like that, baby?” He asked with an hopeful tone

“It feels so good, so good” you told him, clinging to his neck, digging your nails into his soft skin as you felt like you were losing your mind. You didn't care about losing it, your mind had ruled your life for so, so long.

“Please don’t stop” you murmured, tightening your other hand on his wrist, guiding him “don't stop”

You felt your essence slowly leaking out of you, spreading over Joel's fingers and your outer lips, you had never been so soaked, never so much as under Joel's touch.

Your eyes suddenly fixed on that little piece of white cloth that was around his neck, that little piece that made all the difference in the world and made what you were doing terribly wrong in the eyes of others and God and Joel kissed you again like a man deprived and starved, his lips trembling and dramatic, asking silently for more and more, like they were drinking from yours.

He was all over you, like a sailor through a  violent storm, he clung to whatever he could, as if it were a matter of life and death. 

Tasting him like this, the smell of his skin, his warmth, his clerical clothes rubbing against your half-naked body, made your head spin.

You moved your hand onto his collar, grasping it with your fingers, pulling it, until it came undone, you squeezed it as you came copiously, repeating Joel's name and God's, cutting off your moans, abandoning your head on Joel's shoulder.

It was all too much and yet not enough, you wished it would never end. Joel held you tight, one hand moving behind your back, as his fingers continued to sink into you. The blinding pleasure that had invaded every fiber of your body was raging like hell’s flames inside you, like a sinful but also purifying fire, wrong and right, heavenly and hellish.

And then it slowly faded, giving way to a sense of satisfaction that had never belonged to you.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, hard and demanding again.

Joel grunted, pulling his fingers out of you, taking them to his lips, gathering your juices with his tongue.

“I want… I want your cock, Father” you whispered, at that point you felt greedy, delirious, drunk on sex.

His eyes widened, being called “Father” was making him even more aroused and dizzy.

You grabbed his balls from above his pants, holding your hand tightly on them “please, Joel”.

If you were going to Hell for this, you might as well go all the way.

Joel pushed you against the table on the other side of the room, making you sit on it, unzipped his pants again, pulling out his cock without hesitation, as if he had finally accepted his fate.

His fingers were big but his cock… you wondered how it would all fit inside you.

“I’ll go slowly” Joel reassured you “It will fit” he said, brushing your folds with the tip, aligning his cock with your entrance, as if he had guessed your thoughts. His eyes were blacker than ever as he prodded his shaft past through your lips.

It felt overwhelming, so big and pulsing, it hurt but you almost immediately felt a fullness that you had never felt and a sense of belonging, your pussy opened like a bud, widening and molding for him.

If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

“She’s tight, so damn tight” Joel gawked “fuck” 

You whimpered, looking at his face, so serious, pleasure written all over it and you felt like it was right, it had to be right if it was that good.

“Make me yours, Father, make me good” you pleaded. 

Joel growled as he slid in and out of you, slamming against your walls, your pussy making obscene squelching sounds every time he moved, dripping all over his cock and the table.

It didn’t even seem embarrassing to you to be so inexperienced, you both were. You didn’t know if Joel had had sex before but you guessed he hadn’t had it in a long time anyway. 

You didn't know if it was the way it was supposed to be but you felt like it was natural, not like in the videos you'd seen which were probably mostly choreographed to please the eye.

It was sex. Pure and simple. Urgent, hungry, even uncontrolled.

And the way your body reacted, melting like wax under Joel's hands, arching into his touch, bending to his will, and seeking all the friction you could get, told you that this was the right way for you.

“See?” Joel mumbled “You’re taking me so well, baby, a perfect angel for me”

You twisted your legs behind his back, pushing him against you as much as you could, kissing the exposed skin on his neck. It drove you crazy that he was still dressed, you wanted to rip off his shirt and run your hands down on him, feel his warm skin on yours so you did it. You placed your hands on both sides and you just popped every button, revealing his broad chest, feeding your eyes with every single detail and your fingers with every shape and curve.

“Never had a cock inside before but that pussy is made for mine, I swear to God she is” he started desperately rutting into you, deeper strokes every time, taking God’s name in vain, murmuring some prayers while he pounded into you. You could feel his big vein brushing at your walls, his big mushroom hammering your cervix, the most intense rapture you’ve ever felt.

He pulled at your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye, murmuring “that’s what you wanted, huh? Dragging me to hell with you?”

Your eyes filled with tears at the thought. It was true, somehow you corrupted him, but you were willing to face that just to feel something so strong. You weren’t sure about him though.

But again, he was there, right there with you, with his cock inside your cunt and you didn’t force any of it, he could say no, he could stop, but he choose the sin. Now blaming you wasn’t so saintly nor kind, but you understood why he did that. He needed to blame someone other than himself, and you were there, open arm taking the weight for him.

Your ass slid back and forth on the wood of the table with each thrust, one of his hands was on your nipple again while the other held you behind your back. He then moved to your clit, applying pressure on it, circling it with two fingers.

You looked down only to see his cock sinking between your lips, his balls bouncing and the bush of hair that adorned his groin glistening with your juices.

You could smell the sex in the air, your mingling scents becoming one, your pleasure merging and becoming one as he shot huge spurts of cum into you.

He muttered a prayer, asking God for forgiveness, his voice exhausted, hoarse, broken by orgasm.

And then you woke up.

Your room was quiet, the crucifix that your mom gave you hanging on the wall behind your bed.

It took a few seconds for your sleepy, blurry gaze to settle on it, you were sweaty and shocked.

You closed your eyes, shutting them and cursing under your breath. 

You unrolled your body from the sheets and then stood up and picked up the crucifix. Your days as a good, God-fearing girl were over.

A/n: if you don't know what is dream and what is reality in the story at this point, that's what I wanted, I hope it's not too confusing but I wanted to try something new. I hope you liked it and thanks for your time 🩷

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | canon typical violence, cunnilingus, Coriolanus Snow, cumming untouched | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus Snow gets punished and then he gets himself a reward

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 so here's another update guys! I hope y'all will like it! Thank you!

beta read by my darling 😽 @nowitsmissing

masterlist | navigation | taglist

Coriolanus didn't know what to expect from you. You were beyond his logic. He liked that about you, but he couldn't help but get paranoid because of it. So many truths were revealed yesterday. His love for you confessed shamelessly, horribly. He had expected it to be romantic, it was raw and monstrous.

Not a tale they could tell their future children.

But it was on brand for them, he knew. He couldn't expect anything less. Snow already felt himself going half insane with the punishment you said you'd give him. He couldn't bear guessing, knowing that you'd prove him wrong anyway.

Then he realized… you hadn't spoken a word to him since this morning. Not a word, not a single glance, nothing… Much like his reaction when he saw you yesterday. His face was blank, he kept quiet until he was alone with you.

Was the punishment silent treatment?

Huh… it's not the worst.

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He lied.

It was much, much, worse. Coriolanus Snow wasn't a jealous man. He simply thought that some people were worthy of more, and he is those people. And therefore, only he is worthy of the teasing smile you were giving to some of the Peacekeepers! They were worthless. You have his name carved on your skin, he was disgusted by the expression you were giving them.

Maybe, he was overreacting, but he saw no need to be this friendly with them. However, he knew a logical sense that being on their good side especially while staying in the district is important. That doesn't mean you have to smile at them, pay attention to them, and converse with them!

You were driving him insane.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Sejanus was getting attention from you, but not him? This wasn't punishment any longer, it was torture. Sejanus asked you about why you didn't reply to his letters. It wasn't a lie when you said you didn't receive them. And Sejanus believed you easily enough, his attention more directed in showing his gratefulness when you pulled out some of his old books.

Your ma gave them to me, you had said.

Coriolanus believed it. He wondered if Tigris gave anything of his to you, he wondered if you were still connected to his family the way you were with Sejanus.

Coriolanus Snow wanted you to be a part of his family, he wanted you to be closer to his grandma’am than Sejanus Ma.

He revisited the letters from Tigris, and there wasn't a single mention of you. But he had found out they had lost the damn penthouse, however they had enough for food and other necessities through Tigris. It was thanks to the small business she had managed to stand up after she had designed clothes for you.

He didn't try to suppress the guilt he felt as he found out about this right now when it was addressed weeks ago. Coriolanus slowly but surely replied to each letter of Tigris individually. It took all night, but Tigris was family. She didn't abandon him and Coriolanus will be damned before he does the same.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Coriolanus' jaw was bruised from the punch he had taken. It wasn't his fault, really, getting into a fight with his fellow Peacekeepers. He was frustrated, he wondered just how long you'd keep this stupid, childish behavior up.

He punched back, and he was sure that he had broken the jaw of his opponent. He built up much-needed strength after being here for months after all. It was a silly fight. The boys were talking about you. It was typical of men, but with how quickly the words turned crude he didn't tolerate another word.

He was quick to punch the man that started it and surprisingly Sejanus didn't play the mediator for once. The Plinth boy joined in, helping Sejanus beat up the man. They both got a punishment from Commander Hoff.

It was worth it.

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Coriolanus couldn't take it anymore. It had been days. Specifically, 96 hours to be exact. Not that he was counting or anything. He marched you to your room, he even knocked.

He received no answer. He lets out a sigh, knocking till his knuckles hurt. “Come on,” he said, knowing you will be able to hear his voice. “Open the door,” he commanded.

You didn't open the door.

“Open the door,” he said, his tone softer.

Nothing. He couldn't hear anything from your side either.

Then he lets out a shaky breath, his palm pressed on the wood. “Please, please, please,” he begs, his voice low, “please, please…”

Nothing.

Finally, he tried the doorknob, ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes. He was breaking down, and the room was empty. You weren't even here.

He may or may not have cried.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

After Coriolanus had showered, he learned that you and Sejanus were at The Hob. The Peacekeepers were given the day off, and while he spent it crying inside of your room, you were having fun. That's fucking enough.

Snow couldn't take it anymore.

When he went there, he could see Lucy Gray and several others performing a song. Another day, he would enjoy it, but it was different because he couldn't find you in the crowd and he grew agitated.

His eyes were red, his jaw bruised purple-blue. It hurt, even after the cold shower. But it didn't matter. He will have you look at him tonight. He will have you speak to him. The world be damned. Coriolanus is much more fucking significant.

Wasn't he?

Coryo pushes through the crowd to find himself at the corner of the warehouse The Hob was in. He stopped as he saw you leaning on the wall. You weren't alone. But you weren't with Sejanus or any other Peacekeepers.

You were with Billy Taupe, Lucy Gray's infamous ex and the boyfriend of the mayor's daughter.

You were smiling at him, both of you were so incredibly close to each other that Coriolanus wanted to tear distance between the both of you. Coriolanus could hear the thump of his heartbeat, every other sound quiet in his mind as he walked towards the both of you.

He catches you and he sees your lips form a smirk, as you pull Billy Taupe closer. And closer. Oh, fuck no. He reaches at the right time, pulling him off you and pinning him to a wall.

“That's my girl, motherfucker,” he growls.

He throws the boy on the floor, gathering the attention of several around him. Snow didn't care, he was seeing red. He was beyond pissed. He was seething. He vaguely noticed that the music had stopped as he straddled Billy Taupe, pinning him to the ground with his hand on the shoulder. He used his free hand to repeat punches, again and again until his knuckles were more red than anything.

Coriolanus could hear the screaming of Billy. He heard the cries of Maudy Ivory; he heard the plea in Sejanus' voice as he begged him to stop. Sejanus and a few others tried but couldn't get him off, he was feral. He was going to kill Billy Taupe. He was going to enjoy it.

“Coryo, stop.”

He stills. Of course, he does.

Anything for his love.

“Get off.”

He obeys, his chest rising up and down as he turns towards you. He offered you his hand, not caring that blood was dripping off of it. You take it, intertwining his fingers with yours. Smearing the blood on your skin, taking half the blame for it in the metaphorical sense. Coriolanus was glad he wasn't alone anymore.

He couldn't survive being alone.

You take the lead as both of you walk away from the scene. None of the spectators dare to stop you. Coriolanus and you walk, it's dark and no one can see as tears fall from his eyes again. The saltiness in the air could easily be mistaken that it is due to the blood.

If you hear him sniff, you don't say anything. He is grateful for that. Soon, both of you reach the room you were staying in. You walk in, still holding Snow's hand. Coriolanus follows you without a question.

He lets go of your hand. He gets on both of his knees, he gasps, more tears falling from his eyes. He looks up at you and sees you looking down at him. The only light was from the moon coming through the window in the corner. You were being showered in it.

“Never again,” he whispered, his voice raspy.

More tears fall. He can't help it. He's so overwhelmed by the anger of what you did and the attention you were finally giving him.

“Never again what?” You demanded.

He tries to swallow his pride away. Besides you, it was the only thing he had left. He can't do it. He can't so he looks away. What was he supposed to say? ‘I'll never misbehave?’ He wasn't a dog in training. He's not supposed to bark when you ask him. Yet he was. It was humiliating being stripped like this. And you didn't even ask for it, he volunteered because there was no other choice.

“Tell me what you won't do again. You'll never punch Billy? You'll never choke me? You'll never kiss another girl?”

No, no, and yes.

“I wo- won't ever kiss anyone except you.”

“Good…” You clearly expected a sorry but Coriolanus couldn't give it to you. ‘Just forgive me,’ he wanted to yell. Instead, he gets up and walks towards your table. He opened the drawer to take out a knife. The same knife he had used to carve his initials on your skin.

“Not today,” you said before he could press the sharp edge on his skin.

“Why?” He said shocked, more tears burned his eyes. Wasn't he forgiven? Wasn't this enough?

“Just…” you walked towards him, pressing him onto the wood and taking the knife from his hand. You place it on the table before your hand gently holds his jaw. You tilt his head to look at the bruise on his face. “You're hurt enough for today.”

“Then give me something else,” he said.

“What?”

“Your taste.”

It took you a moment to understand what he meant. When you did, your eyes went wide and your breaths fastened. He certainly enjoyed the reaction that meant a yes. He still waited for a verbal answer before he took any action.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He quickly switches places with you before he guides you to the bed and makes you sit down on it. You follow his lead. Coriolanus gets on his knees again. This time to make you scream his name.

He takes off your black stockings with great care. Make sure not to cause an accidental tear on the delicate fabric. He even takes off your heels. You raise your hips so your skirt and panties can slide down past your legs and onto the floor.

He breathes in much-needed air to calm his heartbreak as he takes in the view in front of him. He dreamed of this for so many nights that it didn't feel real. He parts your legs with his hands, creating space between your thighs. He leans in, caging himself. If he dies from suffocation, then he dies happy.

He felt your hand on his buzzcut, your nails gently scratching his scalp. He lets out a whine, his nose pressed to your thigh. He breathes in the scent of your arousal and lets out a groan. Coriolanus could feel his pants getting tight.

Snow closes the gap between your wet pussy and his tongue with a slow, languid lick. You moan above him, already sensitive. He sees your cunt clenching around nothing. He sharpened his tongue and pressed the tip to your leaking slit. Up, and down he moves the wet muscle, his tongue sliding inside of you and you encourage this action with your thighs tightening around his head.

He digs into his meal, letting his tongue wander all over your sloppy, wet cunt with wonder. He moans as your juices coat his tongue. He loves the taste of you. He knew he would find himself addicted to this. He finds something like a bud as his tongue wanders. When he flicks it, you cry out of pleasure. So he lets his tongue work, his hands on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh.

He flicks the pearl with the tip of his tongue again and again, until he knows it's swollen. Then he takes the bud in his mouth and sucks, it was too rough. He knew because you cried out, your hips pushing up and he had to press you down.

“Coryo!” You cry out and he lets your clit pop out of his mouth. He kisses the swollen, abused, and oversensitive bud before he returns attention to your folds. He broadly licks making sure to have all of your arousal on his tongue only, he didn't want to miss a single drop.

He snakes in a hand between your legs, his thumb finding your clit. He used his other hand to make sure your leg was spread wide and nice for him to feast. He pressed into the bud with the pad of his finger. The pressure gives you pure bliss in your veins. He feels your pussy clench again, oozing out more arousal. He licks it all up, his tongue fucking into your walls. His thumb begins to draw rough circles on your swollen clit. You whimper and whine.

The sounds are music to his ears. Quickly enough you begin to warn him, “Gonna cum, Coryo!” He only fastens his actions, getting rougher, sloppier and so much more needy to have you cum on his damn face. ‘Cum, cum, cum,’ he chants in his head, utterly and pathetically desperate for you.

You scream out his name, the coil in your tummy snapping as your pussy spasms and cum all over his face. His tongue slows down, leisurely tasting your release. You have to push him away when he doesn't stop and you could feel yourself getting tired. Your bones turn to jelly.

Coriolanus leans back, wiping his mouth. He looks down at his pants and frowns as he sees a wet spot on his pants. That explains the relief he felt. He had come inside of his pants. He doesn't let the embarrassment take him over. It was too dark to see anything after all.

He stands up and sees you all crossed-eyed. He grins, and he gently pats your cheek trying to get you to your senses. “Bye, dove,” he whispered with a smirk.

As he walks down the hallway he wonders who truly won this round.

After all, he was the one who got what he wanted and you gave it to him just like that.

NEXT PART

[amphibiahawks321]

Wayne Family Adventures Cassandra Cain and Villain Male reader having Batman and Catwoman type relationship with each other

[Cassandra chasing Y/N building to building with Y/N carrying a bag of money over his shoulder]

Cassandra : Are we gonna do this again?

VillainM!Reader : Hunt me down and you'll find out little bat~

[Y/N ended up in a dead end cause the building was too far apart to reach the jump]

[Y/N stares down deadpanned]

VillainM!Reader : Seriously....

Cassandra : Chuckles well that saying didn't aged well...

[Y/N holds up both of his arms up and drops the money bag]

(without Cassandra noticing before he drops the money Y/N clicked a red button inside his pocket)

VillainM!Reader : Okay okay... You win little bat...

Cassandra : you just can't stop calling me that huh?

VillainM!Reader : Well you are my little bat~

[Cassandra walks towards Y/N with cuffs]

VillainM!Reader : My my, I thought you were gonna slam me to the ground Cass...

Cassandra : pfftt! Don't flatter yourself too much Y/N, but it is also true though... I don't want to mess up that face of yours...

VillainM!Reader : Fiu Fiu~ didn't take you for a flirter~

Cassandra : And I didn't take you for an easily captured villain~

VillainM!Reader : Ouch~ I'm hurt, but you know I'm not doing my errands only for the cash little bat

Cassandra : Chuckles what? Can't help but feel excited seeing me?~

VillainM!Reader : you read me like a book~

[Cassandra blushes a little and about to cuffs Y/N up]

Cassandra : Really now?

VillainM!Reader : Of course... Chuckles is it really that weird to see my Cass~

Cassandra : chuckles it really is...

VillainM!Reader : well I don't care about that opinion little bat, I'm... Really happy to see you....

Cassandra : .....

Cassandra : Me too...

[Y/N now noticed his motorcycle moving towards them without Cassandra noticing]

[Y/N starts making a smug expression, Y/N holds both of Cassandra's cheeks making Cassandra immediately shocked]

Cassandra : What are you....

M!Reader : You have such gorgeous eyes~

Cassandra : .......WHA–

M!Reader : And did I mention how scrumptious you look in you're batsuit~

Cassandra : I..... What are you–

[With Cassandra in a complete shock state Y/N immediately walks backward and jumps off the building]

Cassandra : WHAT THE!!?

[Cassandra immediately looks down]

Cassandra : Are you insane!?–... Oh damn it...

[Shows Y/N on his motorcycle and drives away before giving Cassandra a wink]

Cassandra : goddamn it! That!.... That!.... That little–! Huh?

[Cassandra sees a floating piece of paper, Cassandra grabs it confused and unfolds it]

hope we'll meet again my little bat~ Xoxo~

Cassandra blushing : ......

[strawberrysainz]

romanticism. charles leclerc

“ being charles leclerc’s assistant was a piece of work. you loved him though. ”

charles leclerc x reader

a warning — crude language, mentions of food, alcohol consumption, semi-mature scenes.

word count: 2.8k

“Do you want a biscuit?” He pointed to the box of red, racing-themed biscuits, mouth already full with one. “Please don’t tell anyone.” He added as an afterthought, and you snorted to yourself, setting down a notebook to take a gingerbread man decorated as him.

The instagram handle for the baker was loud and proud on the box, and you took a photo of the little Charles, making a note to post it later.

Qualifying hadn’t gone very well for Charles, hence the angry biscuit-eating. He’d ended up third, but an incident in the famous tunnel of the Principality had cost him three more places. His white suit was blinding in the tiny room, and his frustrated little huffs as he flung things this way and that made you slightly on edge.

You had been scrambling to catch up with him this season; you had been dealing with a family crisis until Miami, leaving Charles with some guy as his assistant for the past races. You had thought he was decent at first, but Charles was a precise guy; if he was relying on you to keep it together at work for him, then you’d better fucking do it the way he wanted. Even you didn’t mess with Charles on a race weekend. He was so nervous or upset or he was the happiest guy in the world - it didn’t matter, you just had to be consistent, comforting and take things as they went.

You swore he could’ve kissed you when you arrived on Monday.

But here you were on Saturday, still uneasy; Monaco had always freaked you out - you didn’t believe in the curse because Charles scorned it, but a part of you had anticipated that a stroke of bad luck would always have its way here. It was nine in the evening, and the crowds were still insane. You were prepared to walk back to your apartment at this point, even if it would take you about an hour with the blocked off roads. You handed Charles his clean clothes to change into after his shower, and you were about to go home for the night -

“Do you want to have dinner with me?”

You tilted your head. You knew Charles’ new girlfriend had arrived this morning, surely he’d do something with her?

He must’ve seen the look on your face, and his unsureness- the way he couldn’t believe what he were saying- made you embarrassed.

“No, it’s alright. Get a good night’s sleep. I’ll struggle to get back to mine anyway.” You said abruptly. “Must I make you an Instagram post while you’re in the shower?”

He nodded, unlocking his phone. You immediately went into Google Drive to get some pictures as he left, when a message from Alexandra came in.

You blanched; usually, bar your forgetfulness, you put the phone on the do not disturb function so that you didn’t see what he was getting sent- but the full stops and seriousness made you guiltily keep a finger on the notification.

You’re being ridiculous. I can’t give up my job to come cheer you on. I know it’s Monaco but I thought I made it clear. I can’t make it after all, C. My job is equally as important as yours. You’ll be fine.

You inhaled sharply; she was pissed. You thought she was reasonable, but you knew how much it meant to him to have people here; he struggled in Monaco, and even if he didn’t admit it he was so anxious to please.

I’m sure she’ll have a little fuckin hug and a kiss for you. I’m not a cheerleader, that’s her job, Charles. Watch her under the podium instead. Or maybe not after all- I saw you got P6

Talk tomorrow

Your eyes widened. Was she talking about you?

You were being too nosy. You selected the pictures and put them together, locking his phone on the caption section so he’d write what he’d like. As you opened the door to leave, he was there, his eyes meeting yours; and he must’ve known that you knew something because he lowered his gaze.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said quietly, patting his arm. “Sleep well.”

There was a desperation in his tone when he asked you again to supper.

Well, how the fuck could you say no? He was clearly desperate.

“I’ll invite Joris and Lorenzo, and Arthur.” He said quickly, and you sighed; “The usual?” It was a little tapas restaurant 15 minutes away.

You closed the door then, confused, and walked away, opening your phone to call Joris for a lift.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

You were in the front seat surrounded by the familiar smell of Joris’ car; you two had become good friends- always together, waiting, working because of Charles.

You were busy typing about the gingerbread man when Joris asked you about the lack of Alex (Charles had probably been talking about her first Grand Prix together with him).

You paused. “They seem to be having some sort of rift. Not sure. Ask him.” You said shortly; you tried to stay out of his love life as much as you could. You’d liked his previous girlfriend to an extent, but the final events leading up to their breakup made it awkward for you to say goodbye. You tried desperately to be professional but at that point you were a really close friend of Charles’.

Joris nodded. You two did enjoy a paddock gossip now and again, but when it involved Charles alone you really weren’t into it.

You ended up taking longer to get to the restaurant because you made him stop at your house - you weren’t going to turn up in Ferrari gear - and showered, put new clothes on and sprinted back to his car in the drizzle.

Walking through the restaurant to your table in the corner, Joris was busy chattering on about the home GP content he was busy with; you were fiddling with your hair, your bracelets, your clothes, irritated to be there. Trying to be normal around Charles in non-work situations like he didn’t fucking employ you always stressed you out.

Not to mention he was being so awkward as of late.

You slid into the bench next to Lorenzo, giving him a warm pat on the arm as Joris sat on your other side. Charles was smiling at the sight of you - you greeted Arthur, and then him, and you were presented with some iced tea (no one drank next to Charles on a Saturday before the race).

You were lost in the conversation between Arthur and Charles (Arthur hadn’t done so well in F2 today either) when Lorenzo caught your attention.

“How are you?” You adored the way he spoke French; it was low and comfortable, in the kind of way that reminded you of a warm hug.

“Alright.” You said, giggling, and he nodded seriously. He knew about your stress - he’d never raced as intensely as his two brothers - and you’d always found him a comfort.

He was busy telling you about something - a trip with his girlfriend - when you heard the distress in Charles’ tone and turned to him. He was staring at the paella in front of him.

Joris was silent; Arthur just looked lost.

“What’s wrong?” You said quietly, and you noticed a few stubborn tears in his eyes that he was dying not to let fall.

“I’m just not feeling good about the race.” His tone was terribly melancholic, and you felt a bit frozen. “I- Cha-“

Lorenzo was stiff; you blinked.

Charles sat up straight. “It’s okay. Sorry.” His tone indicated no more talking about it, and Joris launched into a conversation about something, Arthur hurriedly joining in. You made eye contact with him sternly; we were talking about this later.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

Supper had come and gone, the bill had been paid, and you found yourself alone in Charles’ car at 10:53 pm on the way back to your apartment.

“Please come in.” You had said to him, after he refused to go home immediately to sleep; promising a cup of tea before he got home.

You had dropped your keys by the front door and entered, your cat greeting the two of you. “What’s wrong?” You said, starting the kettle with a tenderness in your tone you could never replicate with anyone else.

Charles was just sighing, complaining, choking with emotion as he spoke of his fears - dear God, he was struggling - you poured milk and sugar, biting a lip, and eventually it became too much that you brought him in for a tight hug in the light of your kitchen, a song playing in the corner.

You pulled away, and to your surprise he was looking into your eyes softly, a gentleness in his expression that freaked you out. You felt your body soften as his hand met your hip, and you knew, despite yourself, you could never refuse him.

“Cha…” you murmured, gaze on his lips. Holy shit, this was so wrong.

He let out a little sigh that had you going insane, and you turned around to fetch the tea, overwhelmed; this was the only way you could prevent whatever what was happening, not happen.

He murmured your name again, and you turned around slowly, guiltily watching his beautiful face, certain feelings you’d suffocated return just like that.

His hand met your arm, gentle pressure prompting you to put the tea down. You gasped quietly as his hand on your hip brought you together, eyes wide and wanting.

He met your lips with his, and it was like a wildfire that burned, bright and haunting, kissing you everywhere, his touch burning, thigh in between your legs, arms and hands touching you everywhere, you were gasping and he was moaning, the desire in the air thick, scary, and his facial hair tickled you in a delicious way that made you shiver, eyes lidded, dark, and suddenly he was moving to take his shirt off and you stepped back, terrified, lonely.

“Charles, you have a girlfriend.” You said lowly, hair messy. You noticed your lipstick all over his lips and face.

He looked scared of himself. “Fuck. I have to go. I need to sleep.”

“And talk to Alex.” You said, scaring yourself with the heaviness of your tone, and he was gathering his things, tea forgotten.

When he left, you waved him out, mouth wobbling, and you burst into tears after closing the door, clutching your mouth, your sobs shaking you, sinking down to the floor.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

You’d agreed to lift Joris the previous night, so you were glad to ditch seeing Charles until you really had to - an hour later, you walked into his driver’s room; he was doing some exercises with Andrea while the social media intern videoed him. You stayed out of sight of the camera, leaning against the wall, trying to distract yourself from the previous night’s events.

You were wearing more makeup than usual to hide your puffy eyes from the tears last night, determined to act as if nothing had happened. You really hated that Charles had cheated on his girlfriend with you; you could put it down to him being vulnerable, but you were at fault as much as he was.

When everyone had left, Charles was left on the couch staring sheepishly at you. You crossed your arms, an invisible ocean separating you two, you two continents.

“I told Alex.” He said calmly.

“And?”

“She said she can’t be with me if I’m not being faithful and she’s not there all the time. We’ve only been together three months. She’s not into it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It was my fault. I made a move when I wasn’t meant to. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

From the way he was moaning yesterday, you weren’t sure if that was true.

“Okay.” You snort, moving to open the door. “Driver’s parade in 20 minutes. I’ll see you later?”

He nodded, waving a goodbye as you left.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

P6, like he started.

It was consistent, Joris had joked in your ear as you shook your head, trying not to laugh. He’d had a pretty good race, the team hadn’t fucked up, it was just the way it went.

He had been busy with press and much more before he ended up back with Andrea where you and Joris had been waiting for about three hours (you were also a bit drunk; you’d had too many glasses of champagne from Paddock Club).

“Hi!” You giggled, high-fiving him. “Good job.” Joris also cackled, and Charles shot you a glare. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” You said firmly, shaking your head. “I am very sober.” You said, and Joris nodded seriously. “We had a little bit of champagne.”

Andrea gestures to the bottle that was on the table beside you. “What’s that?”

“For Cha! A well done.” You beamed, and presented it to him. Charles couldn’t help but laugh. “I am going to have to drive you two back in her car, no? Put my bicycle in the back.”

You and Joris were squealing with laughter at the idea, and the two standing before you were laughing at you.

“Come, you fucking idiots.”

“No! You can’t insult me, you kiiiiissssed me,” you giggled, and Joris didn’t catch it, but Andrea did, shooting Charles a glare, who if looks could kill, would’ve shot you dead. He looked so pissed.

“Come,” he snapped, and Andrea said that he’d take Joris.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

He pulled up to your apartment. “Come in.” You said, and Charles scoffed. “Not for a long time now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You looked so vulnerable, rain falling on your head as you peered down at him. “Are you taking my car? I’ll come fetch it tomorrow.” You said softly. “Thanks for taking me. I’m sorry, I was stupid. I needed to relax for one fucking minute this week.”

Charles’ eyes softened, and he opened his mouth to say something before he closed it, nodding curtly, and drove away.

You couldn’t differentiate the raindrops from your tears, forcefully wiping them away.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

You knocked on his door at midday the next afternoon, wanting to thank him before flying to Spain. You hated the energy he’d given you since you’d kissed; it was wildly different and you loathed it.

He answered a minute or so later, glasses on and a scruffy jumper, eyes tired. “Hi,” you were out of breath all of a sudden; he was so terribly attractive.

He looked surprised to see you. “I came to say thank you. And get my keys.”

“Come in. Do you want coffee?” He said instead, and you felt a bit of déjà vu from two nights before, hauntingly familiar.

You loved his apartment. The red and white was a colour scheme you adored, and you sat on the sofa while he made you a coffee, one spoon of sugar and a splash of milk just how you liked.

“I want to say sorry for how weird I was this week. I just hate the Grand Prix in Monaco, you know?” You said hurriedly, and he set down the coffee, sitting down next to you. He laughed. “I know. I know.” It had been this way since 2021- when you had started working for him- and he kept having shit races here.

He held out his hand. You squeezed it. “Let’s move on from it.”

He smirked. “Am I such a bad kisser?”

Your jaw dropped, throwing your head back laughing. “Cha!”

He was dead serious. “Why do you want to move on?”

“I work for you?” You said, disbelievingly, and his mouth twitched. “Charles, come on.”

He picked up the mug and took a sip.

You quite literally wanted to die.

He set it down again, looking seriously at you. “I don’t regret the kiss, if you want to know.”

You stare at him. “It literally broke you and your girlfriend up.”

“I like you.” He shrugged. “More than her. More than I thought.”

You laugh, bringing the coffee to your lips. “And when I saw your lipstick on my face…” he trailed off, blushing, “Fuck.”

You swear you were as red as a mother fucking tomato at this point.

“Slow down.” You retorted, trying not to spit the coffee out.

“Kiss me.”

You stare at him again. Was he fucking delusional?

“What?” You hiss.

He rolls his eyes and kisses you.

You’re pulled onto his lap, breath gone, kissing him as hard as you can. Your head is thrown back as he goes for your neck, and the sounds he’s making make you moan.

“You’re really hot with glasses on,” you tell him, and he falters, giggling, before carrying on.

This time you let him take his shirt off, matching him.

You fall back onto the couch. Those eyes on yours, the eyes of your beautiful boy.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

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lorenzotl Padel boyssss

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[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: language

Chapter Word Count: 2288

—-MDNI—-

A/N: AHHHHHHHHH IM SOOOOOOOO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ITS NOT EVEN A SPICEY CHAPTER… I hope it’s ok! Let me know of any errors as I’m the only proof reader .

——————————————————————

Please read the below:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8pt1

Chapter 8pt2

Chapter 9

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 10

I stood in the kitchen over the stove, the smell of bacon tickling my nose as it sizzled in the pan. Watching the fat and grease splutter, my mind replayed the rapturous events of last night with every tantalising memory bringing heat to my skin and fluttering to my pulse. The simple thought of Deans hands on me set my whole body aflame. Not to mention that I woke up in his room, in his arms, listening to his soft breathing as he slept peacefully - not a single crease between his brows as he slumbered unburdened. I had crept out, not wanting to torment myself by staying by his side until he awoke.

I had eaten breakfast alone; neither of the boys rising early enough for us to eat together, so I tucked in whilst the food was still hot. I was a mixture of grateful and ungrateful in this instance. Grateful, because I could be left alone with my sinful thoughts - and ungrateful, because I didn’t want to be left alone with my sinful thoughts. They were driving me insane, spinning around and around inside my head. I desperately needed to remind myself that Dean Winchester was an insufferable jackass who seemed to be making it his life’s mission to get under my skin. And I couldn’t let him.

Oh Bobby, if you could see me now, you’d be so disappointed in my life choices…

I had just tidied the kitchen and placed the food in the fridge when I heard the front door open and close and I made my way to the main room - Charlie appearing at the top of the stairs wielding half a dozen shopping bags.

“Good morning bitches!” She beamed as she began making her way down, right as Sam and Dean strode in, sleep weighing on their features. I opened my mouth to respond but my gaze snagged on Dean, who was already looking at me and my words evaporated in my mouth. We stared at each other, both of us with a sort of dumbfounded look about our faces. Charlie stepped next to me, looking between us.

“I said… good morning bitches! No? Anyone?”

Without saying a word I grabbed her hand through the countless loops of shopping bag handles and dragged her through the bunker until we reached my room. I pushed her through the door and slammed it behind us, leaving the frenzy in the hallway as we looked at each other in silence. I huffed out a sigh, running my hands through my hair before cupping my cheeks. She dropped the bags and sat on the edge of my bed.

“What’s going on with you? Are you ok? You see-”

“I fucked Dean.”

“No!”

“Twice.”

“NO!”

I nodded and sat next to her as she jumped up, a wild look on her face.

“You fucked the guy you beat the shit out of?”

I nodded again, biting my lip and cringing.

“I thought you hated him?”

“I do. I mean, I don’t hate him. He just infuriates me so much.”

She pauses for a second, smirking and raising her brows as she sits down beside me.

“Was it good?”

I closed my eyes and breathed out, memories flooding my brain.

“Oh my God Charlie you have no idea…” I crisscross my legs and face her, and she does the same. We look like a couple of teenage girls talking about our high school crushes at a sleepover.

“That good?”

“It was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. He’s ruined me,” I sighed as I saw her wicked expression, her gaze flitting between myself and the shopping bags abandoned on the floor.

“What?”

She picked up one of the bags and plunged her hand in, fishing around for a second before pulling out an outfit. There were… bunny ears?

OH

A slutty bunny outfit was thrown onto the bed, the bodysuit crafted with expertise and soft black velvet, with shaping-bones ascending the bodice and plush padding in the bra cups. The white cuffs were made of soft, pressed cotton, and amongst it all I spotted a little fluffy tail.

“Why have you bought me a Playboy outfit?” I raised an eyebrow, unable to stop myself from finding out if the tail was as soft as it looked. It was. Charlie beamed.

“Because the girls at this club are known for their irresistible aesthetic. You’ll need to blend in. But don’t worry,” she gestured to the other bags, “if you don’t want to be a bunny I bought you more.”

“Of course they wear outfits…” I groaned, knowing that the boys will never let me live this down.

“Plus…” Charlie wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “now that I know you’re FINALLY getting laid, you can actually put these towards their intended use.”

I smirked and threw a pillow at her.

“Oh yeah? And when was the last time you got laid?”

She rolled off the bed dramatically before throwing the pillow back at me.

“A lady never tells!”

“Bullshit!” I laughed, before grabbing the outfit off the covers and headed to the bathroom to try it on.

*

The afternoon passed by quickly, most of it spent trying on those ridiculous outfits that Charlie had bought for me. I must have tried on a dozen, ranging from ‘let’s only cover flaps and nips,’ to ‘you’re gonna need x-ray vision’. I went for something in between, not too scandalous but enough skin on show to get the wolves howling. Charlie lounged around on my bed reading comics and muttering to herself whilst I busied away getting ready, doing my hair and makeup and quadruple checking that this ridiculous outfit wasn’t going to spontaneously explode off my body. Overall the whole ordeal took around five hours from start to finish - six if you include lunch and coffee breaks, and six and a half hours if you took into account all the occasions that Deans ego led him to believe that we ‘might need a mans opinion’ on the matter. Said ego had many a door slammed in his face.

Evening had rolled around and I pulled a long coat over myself - another gift from Charlie - making sure that it covered everything not meant for outside a club environment. Or Comic Con, actually, because I eventually learnt that Charlie had purchased this particular outfit from a cosplay website. It explained a lot to be honest. From the quality fabric to the delicate lace trims and tiny petticoats, it was made to a much higher standard than anything else she’d brought with her. Adorning the final touch upon my head, I exited my room before joining the others in the research room, my heels clicking softly on the hard floor.

Upon arrival, all eyes were on me. On my face, my cloaked body, my exposed calves and heeled feet. It was like every other gaze in this room was trying to see through the wool of the overcoat concealing the surprise beneath; a present to be unwrapped… a meal to be devoured. I wasn't sure who to look at, every set of eyes hot with expectation so I chose to study the ribbons on the top of my stilettos, observing in great detail how the fabric shined in the dim lighting. A moment passed before Sam cleared his throat.

“Come on guys, let's get going.”

It should have been Sam that I looked at when I replied, but my eyes were drawn to Dean like a compass to North. His jaw was tight and his eyes dark, as though it pained him to not know what I was wearing. Although he could have been thinking anything really, as we hadn't exactly spoken much since the tantalising events of the previous night and we definitely hadn't spoken about what had happened. I think we were both well aware of the dangerous situation we were putting ourselves in, despite trying to act oblivious to any consequences. We both knew at some point the conversation needed to be had.

“Yes,” I replied to Sam, my voice cracking from the anxiety starting to crawl up my spine, “let's get going before I freeze to death.”

*

The car ride was quiet. Too quiet. Dean was in a weird headspace and didn't crack any of his usual jokes or poke fun at anyone in the car. Sam hadn't made eye contact with me since I gave him the dance, and whenever our eyes met his face erupted into a red-hot blush. Tapping away on her tablet, Charlie paid no mind to any of the silence at first, both of us in the back seat minding our own business. However after a long wait at a red light, she glanced over at me before pulling out her phone and tapped away. It didn't take long for my own phone to vibrate. Retrieving it from my pocket, I opened the message from her.

Chazzie: wtf is going on with you and these guys?

I sighed and wrote my reply.

Me: it's a long story… and tbh I didn't give you all the details about me and Dean…

Chazzie: bitch this is a long drive, tell me! I know Sam won't look at you and Dean won't STOP looking at you. And I know Dean, he's normally a ‘no strings’ kinda guy. But bitch you've got that man on a leash.

I sighed again, throwing her a look before giving in and typing away.

Me: so Dean made me annoyed and told me I would be no good for this mission because he doubted I could even do a basic lap dance. Well, it ground my gears so yesterday evening I put on some music and gave a lap dance to prove my point.

Chazzie: ooh I bet he was in heaven, I remember when you took those classes! You were soooo good <3

Me: awww thanks babes <3 but I didn't give the dance to Dean… I danced for Sam…

I heard her choke on her own spit as she read the message and she threw me a disbelieving look.

Chazzie: WHAT?! Why Sam?! I mean it explains why he won't look at you. But whhhyyy? When you've already fucked D-boi?

Me: tbh I was mad at Dean and I wanted him to suffer. Plus I had a point to prove, he needed to be able to see the show to know I was good.

Chazzie: I mean that's true! How did he take it when you danced for Sam?

Me: tbh I don't think he was best impressed at first, but then I think he just enjoyed the show. … I do feel a bit bad for Sam tho for dragging him into his. I feel bad for using him.

Chazzie: don't! I can tell he loved every minute of it from the permanent blush on his face hehehe. You're a wicked woman tho. Really torturing those boys. How long did it take for Dean to come to your room?

Me: ughhh don’t even joke… you make me sound like I'm in some shitty YA novel… and technically he didn't come to my room. I bumped into him in the corridor. Then he told me he ‘couldn't stop thinking about me’. The we made out and then we eventually fucked in my room.

Chazzie: Welp somehow you've made Dean Winchester your bitch. Gold medal for you, because I've seen soooo many girls try and fail. So did he wake up in your room or did he go back to his? Because this is fucking important.

I looked at her and felt my face heat up, a grin appearing on her face as she playfully smacked my arm.

Chazzie: bitch seriously?! He stayed the night?!

Me: technically no… my sheets were ruined so we slept in his bed instead …

Before anymore texts could be exchanged, I felt the car slow to a stop and the handbrake engaged, engine flicking off. Dean turned to face us, doing a double take over my blushing expression and Charlie's wild grin. He mumbled something under his breath about this making him nervous before he faced forward again and Sam turned around instead, his soft gaze scanning my made-up eyes and lips.

“Are you sure you're ok with this (Y/n)? Because it's still ok for you to back out now if you want.”

The older Winchester tore his gaze away from the lone two-storey building before us; its neon lights reflecting in the puddles on the pavement. Two guys in leather jackets stood outside, and I'm assuming they were security. Dean's expression turned to one of unease as he surveyed the club from a distance.

“Exactly what Sammy said. (Y/n) this is dangerous and I don't want you going in there. Back out now.”

I couldn't help but scoff and roll my eyes.

“I've not gotten this far and this fucking dressed up to give up now. Besides, my safety isn't as important as the safety of the civilians who are at risk of leaving these vamps even a day longer. You know that. That's why we do this job-”

“Look, your safety is all I give a shit about.”

Dean's assertiveness came as a slight shock, not just to myself but to him as well. We blinked at each other before I turned to Charlie.

“Do you have the paperwork and ID I need to get in?” I heard Dean sigh and turn back to face the steering wheel, cursing under his breath. Without saying another word, I took the envelope from Charlie's grasp and flung the door to the impala open, clambered out and slammed the door behind me.

——————————————————————

@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

Up Next: Chapter 11

[gracieheartspedro]

Somewhere With You

Part 4 of How Long

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

FIND Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 HERE!!

description: sleeping with your exes brother is one thing, but envisioning a whole life with him? that's a dangerous game. but you did it. now you're here, and tommy is fucking pissed.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, there is smut in this part!! fear of being caught by sarah?, unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), joel is a CONSENT KING, dirty talk, overstimulation, titty fucking (yw caly), light violence, tommy is literally evil.

author's note: jesus christ i'm so glad I am finally here with this. I feel like finishing this is my greatest success in life lmao. I will probably continue this series but this is the last part for a while. I appreciate everyone's love on it and I can't wait to get more stuff out to y'all!

“Are we going to have a celebration when we get home?”

Joel laughs, “Yeah, we can. What did you wanna do?”

You just listen to Sarah list off all the possible ways to celebrate winning the tournament. The movies, going to the mall for new jeans, going to the local ice cream parlor every night of the week. Joel shakes his head at that one as he turns the truck onto the highway. You have your knees up to your chest, the zip up Joel let you borrow hanging off your shoulders. You had complained about how cold you were all weekend, so Joel shut you up by tossing you his zip up. You haven’t taken it off since. 

The sun was setting over the horizon, drawing the Sunday to a close. You had to work in the morning and you were dreading concluding the weekend you spent with Joel and Sarah. 

Everything with them seems natural. It felt like family. 

You did not want to face tomorrow, especially when there was no set plans as to when you would be hanging out with them again. 

Luckily, Sarah has not mentioned much of anything about what she saw early Saturday morning, so there was no awkward tension. The only time it came up was when you all were tired from Saturday’s events and you arrived back to the hotel room.

“You two sleeping together tonight, too?” She asked, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She wasn’t even trying to be rude or demeaning, she just wanted to know if she could fall asleep in one of the beds without being stirred. 

“Yeah, you can have that bed hun.” Joel answered. 

Sitting on those horribly uncomfortable bleachers and cheering Sarah on had taken a lot out of you, so you were ready to throw yourself into the plush mattress, too. 

You watched Sarah throw herself onto of the comforter, sinking into the pillows face first. It makes you giggle while you grab your pajamas to change. 

Joel nudges you while you dig through your duffle, “No funny business tonight, ma’am.” 

You shake your head, his comment making your stomach turn upside down with nerves. You smack his chest with the back of your hand, “No duh, asshole.”

Sarah puts her headphones on, drowning out Joel’s humming to an old country song. You just stare ahead, watching him speed pass car after car. His truck revs every time he does it which makes you clench your knees a bit tighter. 

“In a rush, dear?”

The nickname makes his heart race.

He taps his fingers, trying to act like that nickname doesn’t drive him insane. “Want to make sure to get you home so you can be rested up for work in the morning.”

“That’s mighty sweet of you, but take your time. I’m in no rush.”

He eases off the gas a bit, taking your advice. 

“You talk to your Mama lately? She still likin’ Maine?” 

It wasn’t a question you were expecting coming from Joel. You had told him about your mom around the time that she moved away, however long ago that was. You truly didn’t expect him to even remember.

“We talk every week, she likes it there. Wants me to come experience a winter there, so I may go up for Christmas,” You explain, remembering back to conversation you two just had last week. She wanted you to feel what fluffy snow felt like and maybe go skiing with her. 

It makes Joel’s heart sink a bit. Not because you would be visiting your mother, but instead you would not be here to spend Christmas with him and Sarah. He had already planned on making a spot for you at the dining table. 

“That’d be nice,” He licks his lips, contemplating if he should say what he really wants to say, “‘M bettin’ she misses seein’ your beautiful face everyday.”

You smile, your cheeks burning hot at Joel calling you beautiful. You knew you had to throw him off and give him a sarcastic response to keep him on his toes.

“Gonna freeze my ass off there. May have to borrow some of your flannels.”

He chuckles, tilting his head towards you, “You already havta’ have about four of my t-shirts, now that hoodie. You wanna raid me some more?”

“If I’m remembering correctly, you said I just had to “get with you” to get clothes,” You’re whispering, leaning into him. You don’t want Sarah to hear the words you’re speaking to her father, “How many times do we need to go at it before I get one of those denim jackets you own?”

He peers over at you. You smirk, quirking one eyebrow up.

“You with me to get my clothes or somethin’?”

“That and other things,” You tease, pulling away, leaning your back against the seat again. 

Joel peers into the rear view mirror. Sarah is asleep, her headphones blasting her favorite pop album. He tilts his head towards you, his eyes not leaving the road, “You’ll havta remind me of those other things when we get home.”

He could get used to always having you in his passenger seat. 

-

Sarah was dead asleep in the backseat, so you both decided to get all the stuff from the back inside before nudging her awake. You quietly shut the door, grabbing Joel’s one bag from the driveway and slinging it over your shoulder. 

You follow close behind him as he unlocks the front door and places Sarah’s stuff on the staircase. 

The idea of having to leave made you want to scream. You didn’t feel like driving home and laying lonely in your own bed. You didn’t want to resume your boring life at work. You just wanted him. 

This weekend made you realize that you really couldn’t live without him. You’re not only comfortable around him, but he’s exciting. He cracks jokes and compliments you when you don’t expect it. Those couple of months without him were still months he was plaguing your mind, even though he wasn’t physically around you. 

You snap out of your thoughts quickly. You start watching Joel’s muscles restrict over his gray t-shirt and it’s enough to send you to your knees. You didn’t even realize how crazy he was driving you. His messy curls that were trapped under a hat most of the weekend are finally loose and curling up his neck. And the way his jeans hugged his ass while he walked away from you? You didn’t know how long to could refrain from telling him you needed him, right this second. 

“I may call out tomorrow. Too tired to sit on my computer all day and run reports,” You say while he wonders back to you from his bedroom down the hall. You’re hoping it leads to an offer.  

He nods, tossing his keys on the entry table next to you,“Yeah, I am off tomorrow. Have to get this house in order and make sure Sarah actually wakes up for school in the morning.”

No offer. Maybe you could propose it?

“Maybe I could just spend the night.”

The air is thick instantly with tension. You can hear the hitch in his throat. Once you say it, you realize how desperate you must sound. But you want to be able to lay next to him again. You want and need him. 

“If that’s what you wanna do, sweetheart. I don’t mind none. Love havin’ you here.”

He grabs your waist lazily, pulling you into his chest. The connection sends chills down your arms. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to you to think I’m being needy.”

He doesn’t even hesitate, he just bows his head to capture your lips with his, giving you a slow sensual kiss. You move your hands up to his neck, pulling him down further into you, eager to be close to him. 

When he realizes that’s where it’s going, he pulls up for air. 

“Lemme go get the last couple bags and get Sarah inside.”

As he says that, the door flings open behind you. A sleepy Sarah blinks at both of you, shaking her head instantly when she sees her Dad’s arms wrapped around you. You push back, flinging yourself backwards and away from Joel. 

“Can you lovebirds do that somewhere else,” She groans, while rubbing her eyes, “Don’t need another sibling created right in front of m-”

“Sarah Jane!”

-

You smile when Joel drops onto his mattress with a huff. 

“So…” You drift off, crawling onto Joel’s lap, “You come here often?”

He chuckles, his hands beginning to trail your waist.

“Come here quite often, actually,” He jokes, his hands resting right under your shirt and on your hips. “How about you?”

You hum, “Not really. Maybe a couple times. Would love to come around, more though.”

“That so?”

You lean down, using your fingers to pull back his brown locks and pivot his head upward. You kiss him gingerly, smiling at his small groan.

You pull away, “I’d love to come to your bed every night, Joel Miller.”

The guttural moan he makes sends a rush to your core. He grabs the nape of your neck and brings you back down to his lips. He takes control of your movements, switching positions by gently laying you back. He leans over your body, his lips carrying the weight of his emotion. You’re scrambling though, tugging at his shirt, trying to rid it off his body. He pulls away to throw it off his body, motioning you to do the same. Soon, you two are completely naked.

“I never get sick of this view,” He rasps, his eyes raking your body. 

You smirk, “Back atcha, babe.”

He positions himself on top of you, his lips lingering on your neck and collarbones. 

Joel’s kisses are always intentional. It’s like he knows every pressure point on your body. His lips are always wet and supple, dragging across your soft skin. 

When his mouth reaches the skin around your breast, you start to arch up for more contact. He grabs your stomach, pushing it softly down onto the bed. 

“Patience, baby,” He mumbles, kissing the same area on the other breast. You jerk up again, absentmindedly.

“Can’t help it,” You whine, trying not to sound so desperate. 

He clicks his tongue, “You can and you will.”

His lips wrap around your nipple and you just watch with hooded lids. His eyes are closed, so focus on teasing every inch of your body. You can feel the slick pool between your legs at the sight. 

“Joel, please.”

He releases the pink nub, “What, baby? Use those words.”

“I want you all over, Joel.”

“Yeah? Where? Here?” 

He grabs your breast roughly, making you mewl. 

You finally gesture down. Your hand slides between your legs, dragging up and down your own slit. You gather as much slick as you can, bringing it up to Joel’s surprised expression. 

“I see…” He brings your fingers up to his lips. You gape at his next actions, amazed that he’s so filthy. He takes your two fingers and licks them like a popsicle. You audible sigh as he sucks on your fingers like a man starved. 

“You goin’ to be extra good for me?” He asks when your digits escape his mouth. 

“Always am.”

Your voice is shaky when you say it. It makes Joel smirk. He loves when you sound ruined.

“Love hearing those words come out of your pretty little mouth.”

He crawls down your body, peppering kisses from your stomach down to your thighs. You watch him closely as he props your thighs over his shoulders. He does not waste time, diving straight into your divine center. You try to refrain from screaming his name, knowing Sarah may not be asleep yet. You clap your hand over your mouth while he licks your sensitive clit. He lays his tongue flat, pressing into you as he shakes his head back and forth. When he does that, you yelp into your palm. 

“Mmm, baby girl wants to be loud so bad,” He chuckles darkly, using his fingers to spread your lips, “You wanna be loud for me huh?”

“Yes, please, God,” You pant, “Need you in me, Joel.”

“Yeah? Lets stretch you out a bit,” He doesn’t even give any warning when he sinks his fingers inside your pussy. “Gotta make sure you’re nice and ready, baby girl. Want you to cum before I stick this cock in ya.”

You swallow, letting him take the lead like usual. You liked it this way, when he ravishes you with his abilities and you get to cum several times. You never had sex like this in your life, especially consistently. 

His fingers curl inside you, pumping in and out. You can hear how wet you are, the wetness sequelching against Joel’s fingers. Your pussy is graced with his tongue again while he fucks you with his digits. It’s like it’s pulled out of you. The orgasm sends white hot flashes to your vision. You know you’re saying something, but it’s no word in the English language. 

When you come back down from euphoria, Joel’s ontop of you again. He’s kissing your cheeks, mumbling something about how beautiful you are when you cum. 

“Joel, please,” Your hands grab onto his biceps, “Want you inside me.”

His cock drags along your navel, as he situates himself between your legs. 

“Yeah? Always so eager,” He grabs his cock with his free hand, “Wanna try something a little different?”

Your stomach drops, “Like what?”

He toys with your nipple with his pointer and thumb, “Always wanted to fuck these.”

You smirk at the thought, your stomach finally at ease.

“You want to fuck my titties, Joel?”

“If you’ll let me,” He squeezes your boob gently, “Think these things are perfect. Want my cock right between them.”

You nod, “Fuck ‘em then, baby.”

He pulls you up, practically shoving you on the ground beside his bed. He wasn’t being aggressive, just guiding you to follow his lead. You sit on your knees, watching up at him as he pumps his cock over you. You use both hands to push your tits together. He grins as he touches the head of his cock to your hard nipples. 

“So good for me,” He groans, slipping his cock between your cleavage, “Obeyin’ me and doin’ everythin’ I want. My fuckin’ dream girl.”

He starts to fuck your squeezed together tits as you stare up at him with a completely spent expression. You dribble some spit down between the break in your breast to lube up the area. Your pupils are blown and you feel the wetness of you slit soaking the skin of your legs. You can tell by the look on Joel’s face that he could cum at the sight of you. 

But he stops and instead, grabs your bicep and tosses you back on the bed. You watch him crawl up between your legs, his face untamed and filled with anticipation. 

“Need to cum in that pussy,” He pumps it a couple times before slipping in between your pussy lips, “Do you need me to put on a condom or anything? I don’t have to fuck you raw every time.”

You bite your lip, “I like feeling every part of you, Joel. I promise.”

“Mmm,” He hums, sinking his cock head inside you, “Love to hear that, baby.”

You circle your hips, practically fiening for him to sink all the way into you. He takes the hint, plunging into you with one snap. Once he’s finally sheathed in you, you groan out which only instigates him. He draws out and back in, his pace painstakingly slow. You grip onto his forearms, digging your nails into them. Maybe he will take the hint that you need it faster. 

But, no.

“Words, darlin’. Tell me what you need.”

You choke out the words, “Faster. Harder.”

He kisses your lips, shushing you as his tempo picks up. He wants to feel the vibrations of your moans. He knows if you’re too loud there may be listening ears, so kissing you will hush the sounds of pleasure. He sits up and repositions, grabbing the back of both of your legs, practically folding you in half. You smirk in delight, watching his furrowed expression focus on your body’s reactions. 

“This pussy is mine,” He huffs, watching himself plow into you, “All fuckin’ mine. Ya know that?”

“Yes,” You manage to peep out, “It’s yours, Joel.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He spreads your legs, opening you up nice and wide. His thumb finds your responsive clit, circling it with the momentum of his hips, “Cum for me, baby. Soak this fuckin’ cock.”

Your body reacts in the way he finds so satisfying. Your hips lift up as the climax takes over, your whole body shaking at the ecstasy he brings you. He doesn’t let up, chasing his own bliss. You are so overstimulated, you are just gasping for air. He starts to falter, his pace slowing as he coats your insides with his cum. 

You start to chuckle when his body practically collapses onto you. His sweaty curls stick to your perspiring cheek. You find yourself kissing his temple, practically thanking him for fucking you so good every time.

He stands up, his half-hard dick slipping out of you pain-stakingly slow. You whimper at the feeling, still a mess from your orgasm. 

“God, you are perfect,” He mumbles, his hand slipping down your bare thigh, “Could fuck you every day for the rest of my life.”

You are still awestruck by the interaction, you don’t even know you’re saying it, “Why don’t you?”

He smiles while he helps you sit up, “I will. Now let’s get you all showered and ready for bed, huh?”

“Yes, please.”

-

Luckily for you, your body naturally wakes up at 5:30AM. You creep out of the bedroom, making sure not to stir Joel awake. You find the house phone and call your boss, letting her know you were “sick” and needed to use a sick day. She just mumbled a “whatever” and you hung up, heading back to the warmth of Joel’s bed. 

Joel wakes up as soon as you crawl back into bed, but he knew he had to get up and make sure Sarah got ready and off to school, anway. He cuddles you for a bit, watching you nod back off to sleep. He let you sleep in while he cleaned up the house a bit. He tries his best not to much too much noise, not wanting to rattle you awake. 

You did wake back up when you heard the vacuum. You pull yourself together, putting your hair up into a bun as you stumble out of the bedroom. Joel stands in the living room, not even aware you’re behind him. He jumps when he notices you in the threshold, turning off the vacuum. 

“Mornin’ sleepin’ beauty,” He laughs as he wraps up the vacuum cord. 

“Mornin’ handsome.”

You watch him roll the machine back into the hall closet before taking note to how nice and clean the house looked. 

“Looks good in here,” You mumble, noting how every surface looks dusted, “It’s missing one thing. You have a vase?”

He silently nods, looking at you confused.

“Go fill it with water, I’ll be back.”

You walk towards the front door, swinging it open as you begin tip toeing to Joel’s side garden. He had started it with Sarah years ago, and for the most part, it was completely overgrown. Some flowers still bloom in the Texas sun, so you pick the prettiest from the dirt. Once you have a bundle, you practically jog inside to show Joel your bouquet. 

“Hmm,” He smirks, “Didn’t think we needed flowers.”

“Well, you do.”

He shows you the vase on the coffee table, letting you take on the responsibility to make it pretty. He watches you carefully, your tired eyes trained on the task. 

You were his dream girl, truly.

Once you’re satisfied with your arrangement, you make a grand gesture. 

“Beautiful, baby,” He beams, wrapping his arms around your waist. He drops down onto the couch, pulling you into his lap. 

“Who me or the flowers?” You joke.

“Both.”

You give him a lazy kiss, smirking into it. 

This part of life with Joel is so domestic and perfect. You two could create this little world and live in it forever. He appreciated your silly antics, knowing how neglected this side of you must have been with Tommy. He didn’t care about the small gestures like Joel did. 

It was so reassuring being with Joel. He praised you like you had never been before. 

As you pull away from his lips, you hear a door slam outside. Before you could even react, the front door swings open into the house. You sit on Joel’s lap, turned away from the front door, completely dumbfounded.

“What is going on here?”

His voice scares you. You don’t even want to turn around in Joel’s lap to face him. Joel slowly helps you out of his lap, his eyes never leaving Tommy’s. 

When you finally turn to face Tommy, his eyes are wild and bright red. He looks like he hasn’t showered in days, his longer hair greasy and standing in all sorts of directions. It’s not his appearance that scares you, it’s the energy he’s brought into Joel’s living room. It’s the same scary tension you experienced when he lashed out on you before. 

Joel finally speaks up, clearing his throat. “What do you mean?”

But Tommy isn’t talking to Joel. He’s looking at you. 

“Are you fuckin’ my brother?”

He’s pointing at you, his finger waving at you like an adult who’s scolding a child. You open your mouth, but you can’t say anything. Your throat is dry, the shock and terror taking ahold of your vocal chords. 

“Tommy, we aren’t doing this.”

Joel puts himself in between Tommy and you, ensuring he doesn’t creep closer to you. You want to believe Tommy would never get physical with you, but the way he looks now, you’re not one hundred percent positive. 

“That’s not what I fuckin’ asking, Joel. Are you two sleepin’ together?” 

His voice is booming, bouncing off every corner of the room. It makes you shrink three sizes. 

Joel places his head up, warning him silently not to get any closer, “Tommy-”

“Answer the fuckin’ question!”

You want to curl into a ball. You knew this would fucking happen. You knew he’d go insane. 

You look at Joel finally. You realize your eyes were trained on Tommy in terror, unsure on how to console him. Joel licks his lips, rolling his eyes a bit. You just nod, trying to answer Tommy’s question without saying anything. You didn’t want him to realize how shaky your voice was. 

Once he gets confirmation, all hell breaks loose. He’s pushing on Joel with his chest, screaming expletives at him. You stand in the corner of the living room, your body practically wedged between a lamp and the couch. You want to become one of the dustbunnies on the floor boards, not wanting to be apart of this situation.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole! You fucked my girl-“

Before he can even finish the statement, Joel becomes a brick wall. He’s staring down at Tommy now, all the while snot is running down at his little brother’s face. He looked pathetic. As he nudges Joel’s chest, he hardly moves a milimeter. Joel doesn’t even hesitate when he says the next words. 

“Not your girl.”

You truly cannot believe the words coming out of Joel’s mouth. You knew what he was insinuating and it brought chills up your back. Tommy’s movements completely halt and he stands there in a stunned silence. Joel’s jaw is slack, his eyes trained down at Tommy. It’s a stand-off. 

Tommy crooks his head to the side, like he’s stretching it. “You want to pull that shit now, Joel? I knew you wanted my sloppy seconds the moment you told me she was at your house that night.”

Being referred as “sloppy seconds” makes your blood boil. It’s so dehumanizing. 

“Stop talking about her like that,” Joel warns, his voice a whole octave lower. 

“No,” Tommy growls, his gaze finally falling on you again, “You’re a whore. Just like your stupid sister.”

You swallow hard. It’s finally your moment to shine. The burst of adrenaline chorusing through your veins finally propels you forward, pushing Joel out of your way. 

“You’re the town whore, Tommy Miller. You fucked your way around Austin and then came home to me every night,” You are shaking. Luckily, your voice isn’t wavering, “You lie. You cheat. You are a decietiful little shit. And I’m so glad you are because if you hadn’t slept with my sister and told me, I would have never realized how terrible you were to me all these years. I wasted so much time on babying you.”

The vein in his forehead is bulging and it makes you smile a bit. 

“If I could go back in time, I would’ve saved my fucking tears and ran the other direction.”

He has the audacity to giggle, “Instead you ran right into Joel’s arms.”

You don’t hesitate, “You never gave a damn about me, he actually did. I should’ve taken the hint the moment he brought me flowers for my graduation, and you showed up with a flask.”

“You graduated college! Big fuckin’ deal! Get over yourself!”

Now you’re laughing. 

“Bite me, Tommy,” You reach out and grab his t-shirt, pulling him into you. It makes Joel super nervous how close he is to you. He knows Tommy’s temper and how easily he will snap. He doesn’t know the next words about to come out of your mouth. 

“You cheated on me, you fucking loser. I told you then we were done that night, did I not? What I did after that point is not your business. I’m not yours anymore. And your brother, he treats me real good. Way better than you ever did. He can actually last, unlike you,” You smack your lips together, “He can fuck me better than you, that’s for sure.”

Joel’s eyes widen at the words. Tommy looks completely dazed, but as soon as the last line leaves your mouth, he pushes you backward, right into Joel. You squeak at the contact, your brain registering that he actually put his hands on you. Joel quickly grabs you from tripping over him, and places you behind him quickly. Tommy reaches out for you, but Joel stops him meer inches from your face. 

“Fuck you!”

Tommy tries to throw his hand at Joel’s head next but it’s quickly stopped by Joel’s forearm. Instead of Tommy continuing the fight with you two, he takes it out on the new flowers and vase you just put out on Joel’s coffee table. He uses all his force, grabbing the vase and launching it towards the wall. The glasses shatters, water splashes on the wall, and pieces of flowers litter the floor. 

The action sends Joel pushing Tommy backward and against the wall. You want to yell out for them to stop, but all that comes out his Joel’s name. 

When he pins Tommy to the wall, he finally turns to you. 

“Don’t.”

It’s the only word you can say. You’re shaking, your eyes welling with tears. Joel knows you don’t want to see him demolish Tommy with his fists, so he thinks quick. He grabs Tommy’s collar, dragging him out the front door. 

You follow far behind, not sure what Joel’s gameplan is. 

Tommy is yelling, telling Joel to unhand him. Joel just tightens his grip. 

“Coming into my house, talking to my girl like that. Fuckin’ disrespectful little shit.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” Tommy yells, his voice probably waking the neighbors. Joel launches Tommy’s body into the front yard, right near the flower bed. You watch from the doorway, wanting to keep your distance from the confrontation. 

“Remember when you had temper tantrums when Momma told you no as a boy? Nothings changed. You’re an immature little brat.”

Joel reaches down into the flower bed, grabbing the hose. Tommy is still on the ground, scrambling to get up. Joel does something so unexpected, it makes you yelp. He starts soaking Tommy with the hose. 

“Yeah, like the girl said before,” He aims towards Tommy’s face, “bite me.”

Tommy starts to spit up water, jumping up and away from the stream of water. Instead of tackling Joel like you anticipate, he just shakingly wipes his hair out of his eyes. 

“You two are sick. Fuckin’ sick. And everyone will know about this.”

It makes your heart sink to your stomach. You don’t really care if anyone knows anymore. You knew this was going to be the worst part, but its the way he makes it sound like a threat. 

“I bet they will, I just don’t give a damn.”

Joel sprays him while he stands up, making Tommy groan and yell out in annoyance. Joel just smiles, sickly. 

Tommy storms off to his truck, dripping wet from the shower Joel just gave him on his front lawn. Joel tosses the hose back into the garden, satisfied with his work. You two stand there, watching Tommy do a burn out and speed off down the road. You breathe out loud, your hands finding your face. Joel glances between his neighbour’s houses, ensuring there is no one outside watching the events unfold. He did not care if they did watch, but he knew you would probably care. 

He grabs ahold of your shoulders, guiding you back inside the house. Your eyes instantly fall on all the shattered glass and flowers as you walk inside. Joel ignores it and brings you into the kitchen. 

Your mind is racing. You knew every word you said to Tommy was right deep down. But the girl you were, she wouldn’t have instigated his rage. She would’ve sat there and took every word he said to heart and believed them. 

But the girl you are now, that girl is completely ruthless. You are petty. You are harsh. You are angry. 

You kind of scared yourself. 

“Joel-”

“No baby,” he mutters, “You better not say what I think you’re gonna say.”

“Joel, we can’t d-”

“We can. Because fuck Tommy. Fuck everyone,” He grabs your hips, letting his hands settle softly on your curves, “I want you. I want you so bad. I am not lettin’ you get away. Tommy can tell everyone in the fuckin’ world about us, and I won’t fuckin’ care. What he says doesn’t reflect you. You did nothin’ wrong. Okay?”

You swallow. You know he’s right, but you’re so scared of all this fallout. You don’t want it to scare you away from Joel, but it’s nervewracking to wait around and anticipate all of the chaos that will follow this incident. You did not want to tear apart a family. It’s the same feeling you had the morning after you first slept with Joel.

You’re scared to have him because of what it means for him. It means weird holidays and weird stares at grocery stores. It means you will be known as his brother’s ex girlfriend never just his girl. 

You don’t realize it, but you’re staring past Joel. He tilts your head towards him, making your eyes connect. 

“I love you, okay?”

His words make your heart flutter with relief. Maybe that’s what you needed. You needed him to finally say those words. Because those words were hanging in the back of your mind, simmering, waiting to be said.

“I love you, too, Joel.”