#i cannot pay you so i will scream at you in your comments | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

love-belle · 5 months ago

Text

looked for stars and i found a supernova !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which it takes a random song drop and a feature from a university student for their relationship to come to light.

for when it became true, opposites do attract. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!sargeant!reader

warnings - language

author's note - i am SO sorry i have no explanation for not posting except for the fact that i am now unemployed (i finished hs and don't start college till like august) and i just do Nothing the entire day. i love u all thank u for sticking around <3

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lilymhe and 729,816 others

yourusername boys are SO stupid and it's so endearing and frustrating like u r such a DUMBASS pls let me kiss u on the lips (i did ❤️)

8,628 comments

username hahahah!!! funny joke babe!!! kids and i and our goat miss u ❤️

username and like just that my bisexual ass cried tears (i never had a chance)

-> username she's for the girlies every man back OFFFFFF

username going insane over this

username i know logan is in shambles rn like that brother is distraught

-> yourusername he hasn't stopped calling me i had to block his number

-> logansargeant UNBLOCK my number i am your BLOOD

-> yourusername fuck off i will call mom

-> logansargeant have you ever known sanity in your life

-> yourusername have you ever felt loved

-> yourusername sorry can u please tell mom to stop yelling at me it's scary ok

-> username she did NOT need to do him like that

-> username oh that was FOUL

username she's so pretty i simply cannot believe a man can rizz her up

username do we ignore y/n violating her brother like that orrrrr

-> username u are an only child it seems

-> logansargeant it's just that she's mean

-> yourusername go and drown in a pond since u wanna act like a silly goose

username why is charles in the likes he don't even follow her

-> username i have the most funniest and silliest theory and im afraid saying it out loud will send logan into early retirement

alex_albon evil laugh

-> yourusername i pay u ENOUGH. any more and i will have to involve my lawyer WHAT DO U WANT

-> alex_albon ferrari has exceptional pasta

-> yourusername ahahahhajaha what's that got to do with me u little clusterfuck of a twink

-> alex_albon oh! absolutely nothing!

-> username i am screaming what the fuck

-> username "little clusterfuck of a twink" OH MY GOD

username crazy how everything she says is so real idk if that's the fan in me or i am just way too fucking down bad for her

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username love love LOVE see this rep bc my man is such an idiot but it's ok cus he's my princess

-> yourusername YOU GET IT !!!!! he's my princess <3

logansargeant what are you doing

-> yourusername tryna slut him out n then build a lego set w him

-> logansargeant i always knew you would be the one to bring generational shame to our family what is this behaviour

logansargeant what happened to "if i ever talk to a man again i want you to be disappointed in me" ?

-> yourusername u were disappointed in me nonetheless fym

-> logansargeant i

-> maxverstappen1 i can tell we would be great friends yourusername

-> logansargeant no way

logansargeant what happened to BIOLOGY you were supposed to be STUDYING

-> yourusername i did study

-> yourusername his anatomy

-> alex_albon logan just deleted this app i hope you're happy

-> username Y/N PLEASE HESITATE

-> username CRYINF SHE'S SO UNHINGED

username the way i can feel logan's mortification through the screen 😭😭

username when will it be me

username love to see women in stem (seducing the enigmatic men) idk im proud of her i know she was crying abt not finding the love she read bout

-> yourusername this might be my favourite comment ever i adore u

username prophecy be looking a bit too permanent 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 who's gonna change it 🤣🤣🤣 i am on my KNEES 🤣🤣🤣🤣

username everyday i learn something new about y/n and everyday i praise the lord that i can exist at the same time as her

*liked by charles_leclerc*

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1 and 2,629,916 others

charles_leclerc you're in her dms, i wrote a song for her in under a day when we weren't even dating. we are not the same.

12,628 comments

username CRYING WHAT THE FUCK

username oh my god is this real

username CRYING THE SONG IS TOO GOOD

username HIS VLOCE JIS VOICE HIS VLICE HIS VOICE

username going crazy rn what the fuck

username HELLO?????? WHAT IS THIS

username need me a man like this thank u

username too much unpack he has a GIRLFRIEND and it's Y/N

-> username HE PULLS??? HE PULLED HER???

username this is life altering

username shaking from excitement i cannot WAIT for logan to download instagram again and be Surprised

landonorris disgusting

-> charles_leclerc forgive me for not wanting to hide my love ☹️

-> username NAH WHO GOT HIM LIKE THIS

username "thinking bout her eyes every hour she's my wildflower" OH HE'S IN LOVEEEE LOVE

username his voice oh my god

-> username tears dripping down my thighs

-> username OHMYGOD

maxverstappen1 "we are not the same" thank god

-> charles_leclerc bubonic plague 🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠

-> username nurse he's out 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

-> username nah who got him being funny

-> username DID PEOPLE SERIOUSLY NOT LISTEN TO THE SONG

-> username NO WAY THAT'S Y/N AT THE END

-> username "okaaaaaaay" CRYINF I LOVE THEM

username my life has been divided into before this song and after this song and im so grateful for that

username i think the most important thing here is who out of all his friends owns a toyota in which the heat don't work

username crying bc wdym charles wrote a song for his gf when they weren't even dating

username in love with y/n's voice at the end WHY IS THAT SO CUTE

-> username screaming i need this song injected in my veins

yourusername craaaaaaaazy how u never told me that ⁉️

-> charles_leclerc details details

yourusername cool song

-> charles_leclerc thank you i wrote it for my girlfriend

yourusername AHSHDHDJJSJSJAJS IN LOVE THIS WAS SO GOOD UR VOICE IS INSANE I LOVE IT SO MUCH

-> charles_leclerc THANK YOU !! ❤️

-> username they make me SICK

-> username calm bf 🤝 hyperactive gf

username the most important question is did logan re download this app

-> yourusername he did but then he saw this post, heard the song and deleted it again

-> yourusername he's just bitter i am bsfs with max before him

-> logansargeant disowned

-> yourusername my grad pic on the mantle BEGS to differ !!!!!! u are on the piano u have no room to talk

-> logansargeant i'm pushing you out of this year's christmas card

≡.;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1 and 899,527 others

yourusername got him to say he would still love me if i was a worm n now we go on walks and i point at every worm and say sorry i can't be her

tagged charles_leclerc

12,628 comments

username NO WAY THIS JS REAL

username i just want a detailed description of how they met and who asked the other out ☝️😞

username my roman empire the fuck

username the way their personalities crash when will it be me

username THE CAPTION IM SCREAMING

username the way she will never let that man know peace and i am so EXCITED

username she's so unhinged i love her

username LET IT ONCE BE ME PLEASEEE

username blocked (im laying on the highway tonight)

username the way i know logan had to be sedated

-> username my man did nothing wrong why are they torturing him 😭

alex_albon we're down one driver at williams

-> yourusername is it a good time to tell u that i recently got my license

-> logansargeant YOU FAILED YOUR TEST 5 TIMES FUCK OFFFFFFF

-> yourusername big emotions

-> username im cryinf what do you mean shw faield the test 5 TIMES ????

username LMAOO THE LAST SLIDE 😭😭😭 I LOVE HER

username parents dare i say

username max is not happy i can tell

-> yourusername i received a very strongly worded message from him yesterday and the only thing i could make out was that he's a bitch for charles like. a BITCH.

-> maxverstappen1 blasphemy

-> logansargeant NO WAY you're buddies with MAX VERSTAPPEN before ME back OFFFFFF

-> yourusername nurse he is out again 🗣️🗣️🗣️

-> username what are they doing to my boy 😭

logansargeant y/n please. THINK.

-> yourusername i did

-> logansargeant AND ?

-> yourusername he's nice i will keep him

-> logansargeant NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

-> yourusername god forbid a girl wants to date a questionable man

-> charles_leclerc ?

username crazy how this is the most random couple ever and we're instantly like PARENTS !!!!

-> username i for once love them like the cultural clashes we're gonna get heh

charles_leclerc my love please

-> yourusername my pronouns are she not her because i'll never be her 🪱

-> charles_leclerc stop

charles_leclerc and can you please tell your brother to hesitate before speaking? he just offered me candy and a dollar to break up with you

-> yourusername FUCK U I AM WORTH WAY MORE THAN CANDY AND A DOLLAR

-> charles_leclerc that is not the issue here

charles_leclerc pretty girl

-> logansargeant keep your thoughts to yourself you hormonal vulgarian

-> yourusername TIME OUT FOR U let my bf live

-> charles_leclerc this is how my life is going to be from now on?

-> yourusername are u complaining (threatening)

-> username i KNOW logan is shaking behind the screen he just called charles leclerc a hormonal vulgarian

-> username sibling rage takes people places they wouldn't go with a gun

username this is hilarious

username logan's likes on twt are mind blowing like what do u MEAN u wish the plague on ur sister 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

-> yourusername u should see what his texts look like

-> yourusername "you need an excoeciscism for the demon in u it might an issue idk" followed by quora links

-> username siblings ❤️

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, logansargeant, carlossainz55 and 2,729,915 others

charles_leclerc silently working on our own little crafts in the same room tonight, queen? ❤️

tagged yourusername

11,628 comments

username CRYINGGGGG I HATE HIS GUTS

username LET IT ONCE BE ME HOLY SHITTTTTT

username they're so parents it's insane

username he's so relatable bc i too would be obsessed with y/n

username he definitely has one of those t-shirts that say "i ❤️ my gf"

-> yourusername he has one in every colour with diff fonts :((((

-> username GOODBYE

username need me a man who will sit in my general vicinity while we work on our own silly little crafts together

-> username charles might've just set a standard idk NEVER SETTLE FOR LESS

username that text.............im violently ill

username the matching rings wow god really does have favourites

yourusername wait a sec i got 12000% error on my scale

-> landonorris how do you even manage to do that

-> yourusername if u think women don't belong in stem just say that

-> landonorris STOP IT MY PR TEAM IS HUNTING ME DOEN FOR SPROT TAKE JT BACK

-> charles_leclerc shame on you

-> landonorris WJAT DID I DO

-> username crying they're terrorizing people for fun 😭

-> username we deserve this

yourusername fighting demons (a degree that i chose to study) to be on my phone bc my BOYFRIEND posted

-> charles_leclerc don't give logan more reasons to send me vaguely veiled threats

-> yourusername he does WHAT

-> logansargeant sending him links on how people got away with murder is HARDLY a threat idk why you're like this

-> username no way they got him UNHINGED

-> username 😭😭😭😭😭 he's so

yourusername MY BABY LEO 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

-> charles_leclerc i am right there

-> yourusername so is leo 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

yourusername are u mitosis bc i never metaphase as cute as urs

-> charles_leclerc i am too dumb to understand this but you are the prettiest

-> yourusername king i am so in love with u

-> logansargeant i judt tfeew up

-> yourusername leave me ALONE

username i hope all the happy couples break up (why couldn't it be me in a relationship)

username SCREAMING HE'S SO DOWN BAD

1K notes · View notes

mountainsandmayhem · 4 months ago

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing.

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin.

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club.

The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about.

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met.

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud.

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me.

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home.

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it.

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again.

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone.

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste.

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time.

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement.

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants.

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges.

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive.

“I can too!”

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?”

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.”

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?”

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.”

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.”

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

“I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated.

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.”

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.”

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle.

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask, “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?”

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours.

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.”

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.”

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream.

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.”

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years.

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo.

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him.

You

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night.

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!”

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.”

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.”

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.”

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs.

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?”

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?”

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?”

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind.

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.”

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!”

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes.

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops.

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself.

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile.

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo.

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man.

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning.

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve.

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it.

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear.

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in.

Spanking, five.

Whips and Crops, five.

Paddles, five.

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point.

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five.

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel.

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied.

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours.

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you.

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call.

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears.

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs.

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller.

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel.

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his.

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips.

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you.

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on.

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently.

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives.

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging.

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table.

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms.

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

988 notes · View notes

norrizzandpia · 1 year ago

Note

okay so you know how oscar sleeps like anywhere, can we have some thing about how they claim they are friends but theres all these photos that lando has (or anyone really) of them two sleeping in the most random places and lando posts them as a joke (sorry if it doesnt make sense!!)

This request is 💋

Sleeping Buddies or Dating? (OP81)

Summary: Oscar and Y/n love to sleep next to each other. They don’t love each other. That’s it.

Warnings: Lando and the other drivers being menaces, language

y/nnn this is payback for making me think you have pics of me and oscar asleep together

Comments:

landonorris I LITERALLY DO???? YOUVE STARTED A WAR

- oscarpiastri lando….

- Mclarensgirly LEAK THEM LANDO

- ln4op81 plz. my bday is in a few days. that would be the best bday present.

- landonorris happy bday then

landonorris ALSO I LOOK SO FUCKING GOOD IN THIS IDK WHAT TF YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE DOING

- y/nnn you actually don’t stop being delulu

- oscarpiastri YOURE SPURRING HIM ON

—

landonorris this is for not shutting up 🫶🏻

Comments:

oscarpiastri THIS MANY????? EXIST??????

- landonorris yes.

- danielricciardo yes.

- logansargeant yes.

- alexalbon yes.

- charlesleclerc yes.

- y/nnn oh!

y/nnn were you silent or silenced?

ln4andop81 YOU ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME. AND THEY ARE STILL NOT TOGETHER??????

- mclarensgirly in my heart they are 😥

F1gossip they have to be dating no way you fall asleep like that in the second pic and are just friends

- f1fan2023 idk man they’ve done some questionable things in the past and stayed friends

- papayafan481 TRUEEEE like that one time Oscar said in an interview he spends nights at y/n’s all the time and they “get up to some fun” BROS GOTTA KNOWN WHAT THAT MEANS

- mclarennnnn ALSO when he won his first podium and ran up to her and KISSED HER CHEEK???? THATS THE BIGGEST MYSTERY OF F1 BC HE WAS SO CLOSE TO HER FUCKING LIPS. YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME HE DIDNT KISS THE SIDE OF HER MOUTH AND REALIZED HE WAS ON LIVE TV SO GASLIT EVERYONE INTO THINKING HE KISSED HER CHEEK. HE KISSED HER. HE DID.

- f1fan2023 that moment is fs my roman empire. i think abt the logistics of that moment every day

—

logansargeant thought I’d hop on the train ;)

Comments:

y/nnn BRO I DIDNT DO SHIT TO YOU

- logansargeant i am SICK AND TIRED of hiding

- mclarensgirly sorry… HIDING WHAT????

- mclarennnnn HE KISSED HER ON LIVE TV.

oscarpiastri you got the audacity from where?

- logansargeant you.

- f1fan81 BYEEEEEE

- mclarensgirly LIGHT HIM UP AMERICAN BOY

- ln4andop81 WTF IS A KILOMETERRRRR??????

mclaren are we sensing a soft launch?

- oscarpiastri ADMIN.

- y/nnn UHHHHHHHHHHHHH

- mclarensgirly WHAT.

- ln4andop81 MY MANIFESTATIONS ARE COMING TRUE OMFG

- f1fan2023 i can die happy now (i am going to live out the rest of my days living for their relationship)

- landonorris oh shit.

—

oscarpiastri yes, i did kiss her on live tv and tried to gaslight everyone into thinking i kissed her cheek (it worked on all you bitches don’t lie)

Comments:

F1fan2023 WE WON YALL

mclarennnnn I WAS FUCKING RIGHT THIS WHOLE TIME I WAS FUCKING RIGHT HOLY SHIT

- oscarpiastri your comments were concerning me ngl

- y/nnn yea he thought you were going to expose us

landonorris this hard launch took way too fucking long omg

- y/nnn shut tf up bitch

mclaren we can die happily now 🥹

- mclarensgirly mclarens just like us fr

- oscarpiastri y/n and i no longer wish you death after you outed us

- mclaren NO LONGER?????? YOU DID AT ONE POINT???????

- y/nnn shhh, admin. “no longer”, that’s what you need to pay attention to

—

y/nnn he’s mine now bitches 👹

Comments:

oscarpiastri idk what your obsession is with these two pics

- y/nnn YOURE FUCKING HOT LEAVE ME ALONE

landonorris happy for you ig

- y/nnn I know the heartbreak must be painful

mclaren we would like to take the credit for dressing Oscar in the second pic

- y/nnn you deserve the world for putting him in that jacket.

mclarensgirly im rlly kicking and screaming tho

F1fan2023 i know i said i would die happy bc of this news but suddenly i hate the fact this man is off the market

- landonorris well that sucks bc pastry is sickeningly in love

2K notes · View notes

cutmyheadoffplease · 15 days ago

Text

«Justice of those pure of heart»

ADA x reader hcs because why not?

WARNINGS! : Dazai being Dazai, mentions of alcohol and war in Yosano's part

FEAT! : Atsushi; Dazai; Kunikida; Yosano x gn!reader

➜ Atsushi Nakajima ᗢ

ᗢ He asks Yosano for advice; it doesn’t matter. Presents? Yosano has to say they fit the occasion. A nice day in a park? Yosano makes Atsushi check the weather forecast. She saved dates.

ᗢ Atsushi would buy plushies as gifts. He started doing it after he saw how much joy they brought to Kyoka and they became his go-to gifts for everyone.

ᗢ Atsushi’s ability lets him turn into a tiger, tigers are felines, felines sleep for about 16 hours a day. Therefore, Atsushi too sleeps for 16 hours (and has a tiny kitty plushie he got from Kyoka <3)

ᗢ Atsushi once scratched you. It was an accident. It didn’t even hurt. But this chazuke loving boy cried for half an hour because he ‘hurt’ you.

ᗢ You once took him to the Zoo. He started rambling about chameleons. He just loves them. His love for them can be explained in two ways: 1. He wants to blend into the background like them, so that he can forget what he’s been through, so he can be like everyone. 2. They're just cool.

➜ Osamu Dazai 𓍯

𓍯 Jokes that he would love to commit suicide with you, but I feel like he’d stop you say you’re uncomfortable… maybe brings you some flowers, to Yosano’s recommendation, he bought with the money he “borrowed” from Kunikida as an apology.

𓍯 Has a small crab plushie Atsushi and Kyoka gave him and used it to pinch your cheeks or places it on your head when he’s bored.

𓍯 Do NOT fall asleep near him, unless you want to be turn into a bandage mummy, because personal space is not a concep in Dazai’s vocabulary… at all….

𓍯 You cannot look at this man and tell me he wouldn’t blow in your ear to annoy you, Kunkida and/or Chuuya.

𓍯 Dazai may have on this goofy and careless personality, but the one time he was actually sad and brought to tears was when he told you about Oda. poor Oda

➜Doppo Kunikida ✎

✎ Kunikida had a hamster as a kid. He started liking math because he would count the amount of seeds it ate every day.

✎ Kunikida on the note of his math teacher past, he gave Kenji math homework once, but had to explain it with cows.

✎ Kunikida gets mad if you aren’t organized, he’ll tidy up of course, but not without commenting and giving you sour looks.

✎ Once asked Yosano for advice on what to wear to a date and ended up with a wardrobe full of clothes. He’ll never do it again.

✎ Kunikida is almost blind without his glasses, he once tried to hug you without them and ended up hugging a door.

➜ Akiko Yosano 𓌏

𓌏 Watches M*A*S*H* every chance she gets as a way to cope with her childhood. Please watch it with her. It’s an amazing show. The show screams Yosano. (I feel like her favorite would be Colonel Potter. He’s 100% the guy she would have wanted to work under. she cried during the last episode, not wanting the show she resonated so much with to end.)

𓌏 Yosano sleeps with her socks on and has an unholy big collection of them, most of them have Japanese sweets on them or random stuff she bought with Kyoka or Naomi.

𓌏 Drunkenly confessed what happened during the war once. She spat out everything. The pain drowned in liquor, everything now just a foggy memory of abuse and injustice. She took the hair pin off that day.

𓌏 Yosano took you shopping, Kyoka tags along, of course you had to pay for everything. And if you didn’t I’ll pay for Yosano and Kyoka happily . Before you know it it’s already late, the bag is full of random stuff, like scented candles and even more socks.

𓌏 Yosano reads romance. A lot of it. She became the ADA’s romance counselor. So you better be good at preparing dates or she’ll pout a little.

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆Yay~ Thank you for getting till the very end~ A part two will come with the other ADA members.ᐟ𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆

106 notes · View notes

bloodchapell · 3 months ago

Text

he loves to hear you yap - armin a.

brief summary: just thinking about how cute armin is and him loving to listen to EVERY word you say

what to expect: alt and very nerdy reader, equally nerdy armin, mutual pinning

your sword’s note: really just thinking of how attentive and good of a listener he would be and I ACHE for it. all past and future parts of this au series available in my mistresslist

A month or so had passed since the semester started. Normally after philosophy class you would go to the library with Armin. He had convinced you to play Minecraft and you had convinced him to play Dress to Impress.

“Agh!!!” You screamed and turned off your iPad.

“Shut the hell up!” Pieck, your roommate, yelled at you.

“Sorry I forgot that not all of us have to wake up at 6 am to deliver a calf…” You apologized and she sighed.

“I will say the same when you are trying to finish up some jacket or whatever it is that fashion designers do.” She joked half asleep. “Why did you scream either way? The Sleeping Beauty nightmare again?”

“That is a very serious nightmare!” You argued. “No it wasn’t that, Armin just gifted me VIP in Dress to Impress…”

“That is so cute… now get married and let me go back to sleep, that 75 pound baby calf isn’t going to deliver itself.”

<WHATTT THANKS MIN😭> you. 2:47 am

<YPU DIDNT HAVE TO YOURE SO SWEET> you. 2:47 am

<It’s okay! I just really liked your vkei theme outfit and was very conflicted when seeing that you didn’t win… They really should made an “only pros” server, these people do not know what vkei is.> armin 👼🏼. 2:48 am

That made you laugh. He had only learned about vkei the day before, when you guys hanged out and he asked what vkei entailed.

After some more rounds of playing, you decided it was time to go to sleep, you said good night to Armin and left the electronics in the table by your bed. But before you could actually fall asleep your mind stared thinking about Armin. The wandering thoughts regarding the blonde would fall like a current that cannot be stopped, the way in which his hands would softly write in his notebook and his handwriting was so small and dainty, the way in which his slender fingers would hold the black pen, the way he would always pay attention and participate in class, his comments always so educated, organized and concise, like he had some inside knowledge and some inside understanding about it all; yes he was a little timid regarding social interactions, but when it came to scholarly matters, he was an eminence and his words would flow out of his pretty plump pale pink lips like it was just any other topic. He was so smart and so attractive when rambling about the ambiguity of morals and religion and science and politics, his bangs and longish hair framing his face and his lashes deepening the gaze of his eyes. Goddamnit was he handsome.

“Is Malice Mizer not on Spotify?” With his phone in hand Armin asked in class the next day, following like a robot Eren’s recommendations on how to behave normally when having such a fat crush.

“How do you know that?” You asked whispering in class.

“I liked the songs you showed me.” He mentioned still holding his phone. Your heart almost ran out of your chest when hearing that; not only he he understood vkei fashion to know that the fellow Dress to Impress players were ass, but was also interested in it beyond what you had explained.

And he was interested, not only because he would have the opportunity to have a topic of conversation with you, but because he trusted in your judgement so much that he understood that if you liked vkei as a subculture, it was for a valid and good reason and therefore he must check it out.

“Yeah sadly they are not in Spotify… I can recommend you some other bands if you want though.” You said and he nodded immediately, saying he would be delighted. You typed Sito Magus, SHAZNA, Gulu Gulu, Kaya and MEJIBRAY on his notes app. “Some of them can be a little heavy, I don’t know if you like that.”

“I don’t mind.” He smiled sweetly; he didn’t really mind because he was used to Eren and Mikasa blasting death black evil obscure metal.

Armin was trying his absolute best to not dissolve into a mass of anxiety and embarrassment, he kept thinking about every recommendation Eren gave him and even though sometimes it seemed like nothing he could do was powerful enough to mask his feelings, he trusted logic and knew that up to a point it could work.

"You said you had a playlist with all your favorite songs ever right? Can we listen to them together while you explain to me why you like them maybe?" He asked impulsively without stopping to think, almost immediately regretting the request before seeing your eyes glimmering like eyes do in cartoons and seeing you nod. Truth be told he was also fascinated with the way you spoke about your interests, you were so passionate and analytic of the things you liked that he could be convinced to do almost anything if you described it like you do with the things you love.

So after class you invite him to your dorm and you both sit on the carpeted floor while you go over every song and he listens to your comments and tries to hear the songs as beautifully as you do.

130 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

Text

Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (Friday)

Summary | Your last day alone with Joel should mean you spend it tangled up together, making the most of those last moments you have alone with him. But there are doubts creeping into his mind about what's best and things truly do come to a head.

Word Count | 5.9K

Chapter Warnings | I cannot stress this enough - ANGST. Joel is a little mean in this one but makes up for it I promise. Consumption of food, explicit smut, rough sex, possessive sex, unprotected PiV sex, oral sex (f) receiving, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, breeding kink, the briefest slice of daddy kink.

Authors Note | Well, this was hell of a rollercoaster, wasn't it? Sorry for the sheer spectrum of emotions I'm about to put you through, I can only apologise. I wanted to give a HUGE shoutout to @cupofjoel for letting me brainstorm the ideas for this chapter. Her love for these characters is inspirational and I am so grateful she helped me with these ideas. And thank you to each and every one of you that continues to support this story and who love Joel, Pretty Girl and Tommy as much as I do. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting, reblogging or coming into my ask box to scream with me. And, as always, If you want to support me, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - to keep up with my writing, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to keep up to date.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The sun is only just starting to rise when Joel wakes the next morning. There’s very little light draining in through the curtains, but he can make your face out perfectly. He thinks if he were to ever go blind, he would have looked at you so much that your face would be permanently burnt onto his brain. He can make out the curve of your cheek, the way your lips are relaxed, and the way you inhale through your nose and blow out the air through your mouth. Not snoring, per se, just another one of your quirks that he loves. Loves just like the rest of you.

He's suspected for a while now that you felt the same as he did, that your feelings for him moved beyond the love you should have for him as your brother-in-law, that you loved him with just as much passion and ferocity that he loved you with, and that was dangerous. He tries to tell himself that it’ll be okay, that when Tommy turns up tomorrow with Joshua, he’ll slink back to the shadows, become Uncle Joel again, and only have you when he has to have you, when he buries himself inside you under the watchful eye of his brother and tries to give you another baby, but he knows it’s futile. He’s never going to be satisfied again.

He drags a frustrated hand over his face, pulse pounding behind his eyes. He wants to roll over, drag your warm body into his and never let you go, wants to keep you here forever, but he knows he can’t be that selfish, so instead, he gently pushes himself up from the bed, lower back screaming at him as he does. He’s behaved liked a horny teenager this whole week, pretending that this bubble of you and him is what real life is like, and not only is he going to pay for it with a broken heart, but he’s also paying for it with real aches and pains shooting through his aging body.

He drags on some clothes, leaves you sleeping soundly in bed, makes a pot of coffee and takes himself outside. He goes to sit down on the bench near the fire pit, but he’s reminded of his confession of a few nights ago. The one where he admitted he fucks another woman but can’t bear to fuck her on her back, because she’s not you. She doesn’t sound like you, but when he’s got her on all fours and he closes his eyes, he can just about convince himself that his cock is dragging in and out of your pussy instead. She’s a nice woman, he doesn’t deny it, and he knows he’s fucking her over by keeping her hanging. He makes a mental note to call her when he gets back and call things off.

His feet take him to the water’s edge, where he thinks back to yesterday, pressing you against that wood of the jetty, fucking into you, even though he knows you were sore, because you were just that desperate for him, that desperate for another child. He almost walks away to find somewhere else to sit, but then realises this entire fucking place is just full of the memories of him and you, he’s not going to find somewhere that you don’t permeate his thoughts.

He sits on the gravel of the shore, listening as the wind brings gentle waves of the lake crashing near him. The warmth of the coffee mug is burning into his skin, but he doesn’t move to set it down – the pain reminds him that he’s alive, that he can feel things. He just doesn’t know what to do with it.

He thinks about Tommy. About how he trusted him with this sacred thing, with holding and touching his wife to give them a family, to give them their dream, and how he took that trust in his hand and fucking crumbled it to dust, falling in love with her and letting her fall in love with him. He thinks it’s kind of poetic really, because ever since they were boys, growing up in Texas with their parents, they’ve shared mostly everything. Bedrooms, cars, the weight of their parent’s dying, looking after Sarah when she was younger and her mom had left, and they’d done it without falling out, without ruining their relationship. Now, the one thing they really shouldn’t have shared is going to change it all. He’s convinced when Tommy see’s the two of them he’s going to know something has changed, he’s going to be angry, he’s going to take you back for himself and that’ll be it, so he has to do it first. Joel cannot lose his brother, cannot lose this part of his family that means so much to him.

Despite you saying you could fix it, that you had a plan, that he would trust you, he just cannot see it, cannot see a way where someone doesn’t get hurt. He’s the big brother here, the one who should be sensible, so he knows this is it. He’ll give you this baby and that’ll be it, because if he continues to cash in this one night he gets to have with you a year, he’s only going to end up hurting you both, hanging on to this hope that maybe, one day, he’ll have more. He has to be the bigger man, so no matter how much it’s going to hurt, he’s got to give you up.

When you wake, much like yesterday morning, you’re alone. You reach over to the empty side of the bed, arms under the covers, but unlike yesterday, Joel’s side of the bed is cold, which means he’s been awake for much longer than he had been yesterday. You roll onto your back, listening out for any sign of him, the padding of his feet in the kitchen, the sound of the shower in the bathroom, but it’s silent, save for the rustling of the trees in the wind from outside.

You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, thinking back to last night. To the way you’d opened your heart to him, finally. God, you loved him something fierce. Loved him in a way that made you hurt. You finally said it out loud, spoke the love you felt to him into existence. Whenever you’ve said it before, you could almost convince yourself that it was the kind of love it should have been, familial and warm, but there was no denying it anymore. This love was like fire, burning inside you, threatening to burn out of control if you didn’t do something about it.

Joel had placed his heart in your hands, asked you not to break his heart, and by God you were going to try and keep it whole. Cradle it in your hands, nurture it, keep it safe. The plan was tenuous at best and you knew it, but Tommy needed to know. You had to tell him. You would, before this week was out, you were going to fix this.

You had one more day though, one more day of being wrapped up with Joel, and you’d be damned if you were going to waste it. You drag yourself out of bed, picking out some comfortable clothes – one of Joel’s t-shirts that smells like him, and your sweatpants. You head to the kitchen, there’s still no sign of Joel. You pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot, tip some creamer into it, when you spot him.

He's stood at the edge of the water, skimming stones across the lake. His broad frame sticking out against the foliage and the water. Almost like he can sense you’re watching him, he turns around. You smile over the lip of your coffee mug, raising a hand to wave at him, but he doesn’t wave back, just turns back around and continues skimming stones across the water.

It hurts, the cold shoulder he gives you. After spilling your hearts to one another last night, the way he fucked you like you were the last person on earth and your time was running out, and now this? You suck in a deep breath, damping down the flare of anger that spreads through you. He doesn’t get to do this, you think, not now, not today. You finish your coffee, eyes still trained on the way his back pulls and flexes as he throws his stones. Maybe he just needs time, is what you think, some space, where you aren’t constantly crowding him, constantly in his presence.

You settle on the couch, TV playing low for background noise as you try and focus on the book you’re reading. You think you lie there for hours, watching the sun move across the sky, but he still doesn’t come to you.

Your stomach growls and you think if you’re hungry, he must be as well, so you make BLT sandwiches, his favourite, and you take them down to the shore where he’s just sitting, looking out onto the water. You sit down next to him, close enough that he could reach out and touch you, but with enough distance to not crowd his space. You hand the plate to him, and thankfully he takes it, setting it between his feet, picking up one half of the sandwich to start eating.

It's silent except for the sound of you both eating and for the first time ever, it’s a little awkward. Not the usual, comfortable silence where neither of you have anything to say but are content to just be in each other’s company. You both have plenty to say to each other and you both know it as well, but neither of you want to make the first move.

“You alright?” You ask softly, deciding it’s better to just get this over and done with.

His response is short, “I’m fine.”

You sigh, frustration bubbling under your skin, “You certainly don’t seem fine.”

“I’m just tryin’ to do the right thing.” He won’t look at you, eyes continuing to face to water.

“The right thing,” You scoff, shaking your head, “What happened to trusting me?”

He’s quiet for a moment and you’re sure if you listened hard enough you could hear his brain working to come up with his answer, “It just ain’t right,” He speaks quietly, “You ain’t mine to keep.”

“You’ve changed your tune,” You hiss, “I hate to break it to you Joel, but that isn’t just your decision to make, there’s two of us here.”

“I’m tryin’ to make it easier, make sure no-one gets hurt.”

“You’re hurting me right now,” You point out, because he is, this distance is cleaving you in two, “And you’re going to hurt yourself too,” You reach out and touch his arm with your hand, glad that he doesn’t flinch away from you, “The only person who doesn’t get hurt is Tommy if you keep going like this.”

“You’ll be okay though,” He mumbles, placing his big hand over your own on his arm, “He’s good to you, you’ve got your family, you don’t need me.”

“Stop it!” You wail, “Don’t say that about yourself,” Lifting yourself to your knees next to him, hand on his shoulder to try and get him to look at you, “I will always need you Joel, do you understand me?” You grab his chin in your hand, tugging him to look at you, his eyes just as glassy as your own, “Why are you doing this?”

“What’s your master plan, huh?” He asks, suddenly talking louder, more commanding, “You gonna ask him to share you? Let his brother have you whenever he wants? That how you’re gonna fix this?”

“Don’t fucking patronise me,” You accuse, pushing him with your hands, using the momentum so you can stand, “You promised to trust me Joel, promised me you’d let me fix this, what happened to that?”

“I just don’t see how we could ever fix this.”

“You’re unbelievable,” You spit, “For once in your life could you stand to make yourself happy?!”

“Not if it means hurtin’ Tommy,” He shakes his head, “Should never’a let ourselves get so caught up in this.”

“Joel, stop it,” You’re crying now, because it sounds like he’s telling you this is it, that he’s through, that it’s been a mistake, that he regrets it, and you can’t bear that, he’s standing up now too, towering over you, “I love you, doesn’t that mean anything?”

“Of course it does,” He murmurs, “I love you too, but it was never meant to happen like this, we were never meant to love each other this much.”

“So that’s it, we break our hearts because you’re scared to ask for what you want?” You sniffle, trying to dampen down your tears, keep things together, “Scared to let me fight for us?”

“There ain’t no way any good is going to come from this.” He motions his hand between the two of you.

It’s like a punch to the gut when the words leave his mouth, because it’s a total lie. Your beautiful son came from this. The happiest years of your life came from this, and you’re pretty sure Joel’s happiest years came from this too.

“So that’s it then?”

He doesn’t answer this time, just shakes his head and sighs, moving to turn away from you, so you swivel on your heel, rubbing your hands furiously over your cheeks to wipe away your tears. You make sure to slam the door to the lodge behind you, sure that Joel can hear your anger. You walk straight through the lodge and into the bedroom, throwing yourself down on the bed, face planted in his pillow.

You wrap your arms around it, taking in a single deep breath of his scent before you scream into the pillow, sobs soon following as you let out your frustration and anger and heartbreak. Why did life have to do this to you? Why did it have to throw you down this path, desperate to have a family with a man who simply couldn’t? In this moment you curse Tommy for suggesting this whole stupid fucking arrangement and for being so kind and understanding and only ever wanting to make you and his brother happy. Curse your own heart for being so easy to fall, eager to love, and you curse Joel Miller for taking that easy and eager heart and being reckless with it. He asked you not to break his heart, yet here he is breaking yours.

Joel knew almost immediately he’d fucked up. The way your bottom lip had wobbled as you turned to walk away from him, the way you slammed the door, and the way that two hours later, when the wind was too cold and he walked back to the lodge, he could still hear you crying in the bedroom. What a fucking mess he’s caused. Trying his best to not hurt anyone, and here you are, crying into a pillow because of him.

He’d wanted nothing more than to push that door open, get down on his hands and knees and beg for your forgiveness. Take your hands in his and pray for you to forgive him. He stays in the living room, thumbing through the book you’d been reading, watching some random sports game on the tv, until he couldn’t hear you crying anymore. He’s panicking, can feel that familiar tightness in his chest at the mess he’s made, not quite sure what to do. His brain is telling him to stay where he is, to stick to the plan – it hurts now, but maybe tomorrow when Tommy and Joshua arrive, and Sarah is here, it won’t seem so bad. On the other hand though, his heart is telling him to move, to go to you, scoop you into his arms and make it all better.

Joel Miller is a weak man where you’re concerned, and he cannot bear the hurt he’s caused, can’t stand that he’s the reason you’ve spent that last day you could have had together in tears, shut in the bedroom because he pushed you away. He stands, brain going into fix-it mode. He toasts some bread, spreads a thick layer of butter on it and covers it in jam, just like he knows you like it. He makes you a cup of tea with a splash of milk. Steeling himself outside the door, he taps his foot to it, mainly to let you know he’s coming in rather than looking for permission to enter.

The room is faintly lit by the bedside lamp on your side of the room. You’re led on the bed, curled into a tight ball on one side. He’d have thought you were sleeping if he didn’t know you better – if he didn’t know exactly how you slept – the exact cadence of your breathing and the way your body went lax when you finally nodded off. You’re facing away from him when as he walks over, places the steaming mug and the plate of food next to the lamp. He sits down on the edge of the bed, reaching over to grip your wrist, pulling you up like a ragdoll and into his arms. You’re a dead weight as he wraps your arms around his neck, his own resting around your back as he nuzzles his face into the warmth of your neck.

He can’t look at you right now, knows it’ll break his heart, but he revels in the way that you tighten your arms around him. That’s a good first step, he thinks. He lets his lips press softly to the delicate skin of your neck, not in a way that it usually does when he’s trying to turn you on though.

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl.” Is all he can really think to say in this moment, but it’s poor, and he knows it.

He pulls away from you slightly, glancing at your face as he does. He was right, it does break his heart. The skin of your face is blotchy from the tears you’ve cried, eyes red and bloodshot, you look exhausted, and the heaviness in your bones is testament to that. He reaches over and picks up the steaming mug, holding it out to you as a sort of peace offering. You take it in your hands, blowing the steam away lightly before taking a sip, hissing when the hot liquid burns down your throat.

In any other circumstance, he’d laugh, press a kiss to the tip of your nose and tell you to be patient, but he’s likely going to get slapped if he tries to lighten the mood like that right now, so instead, he takes one of the slices of toast, cut into a triangle and holds it to your mouth.

You shake your head, “Not hungry.” Your voice is hoarse.

“Just a bite,” Joel implores, “I made it just how you like it.”

You don’t look at him, your eyes trained directly on the cup in your hand, but you nod lightly. His hand moves the slice of toast close enough to your mouth that all you need to do is lean forward and take a bite, which you do. He watches as you chew and then swallow and is quietly relieved when you lean forward and take another bite. He doesn’t force the other slice on you, leaves it where it is so you can have it if you want it. Instead, he lets his hand drop to your knee, warm and comforting as you sip at the tea again.

You set it down on the nightstand, finally accepting it’s too hot right now, and Joel is surprised when you turn and throw your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder, crying once again.

“Oh pretty girl,” He coos, one hand resting at the nape of your neck to keep you anchored to him, the other around your lower back, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He’s rocking you back and forth, gently, trying to soothe you as you cry into him, fighting back his own tears as well. He can hear you mumbling something into his shoulder, but he can’t make out what it is.

He gently pushes you forward, “What was that, baby?”

You shake your head, sniffle again, as a fresh wave of tears start falling, but you manage to get out what he had missed you saying earlier, before you’re falling back into the comfort of his shoulder, “I love you so much, Joel.”

His hand is resting on the back of your head as you hold onto him tight, “I know, pretty girl, I love you too,” He dips down, lips pressed to the top of your head, “I’m so sorry,” He speaks again, “Please forgive me.”

You pull back from him, moving to wipe your tears away, but Joel moves quicker, palms resting on your cheeks as his thumbs brush away the drops from your face. He’s looking at you now, his beautiful, sad eyes, trained on your own, “Do you regret it?” You ask quietly.

He shakes his head, “Of course not, baby,” He leans forward, kissing your cheek softly, “I could never.”

You try and shake your head, but his hands are keeping your face still, “Then w-why,” You falter a little, hiccupping over your words, “Why d-did you say n-nothing good could come of t-this?”

He swallows, because he was wrong. So fucking wrong to say that, to say anything that he said to you earlier. He was frustrated but most of all he was scared, and he hurt you and now he’s not sure he can actually salvage this.

“I was scared, pretty girl,” Joel admits, “I’m scared of how much I love you and what would happen if I can’t have you anymore, and I thought it would be easier, y’know? Easier if I just tried to pull away, get you back where you belong with Tommy, but I didn’t mean it, I promise I didn’t mean it.”

“We made a baby,” You sniffle, “He’s something good.”

“Oh, pretty girl, you’re breakin’ my heart,” Joel sighs, God he wants to make this better somehow, “Everythin’ about this is good, I’m just a mean old man sometimes.”

Your hands are circling his wrists now, anchoring yourself to him, your eyes looking straight into his own, like you’re searching his very soul for any ounce of regret. He’s hoping you’ll see the truth, that he doesn’t regret this relationship with you, only his words from earlier.

“Will you let me fix this?” You ask, “Will you let me speak to Tommy?”

“If you think it’ll help, pretty girl, I’ll let you do anythin’.”

You seem satisfied with his answer, because all of a sudden, you’re surging forward and kissing him. Lips soft and gentle against his as he presses his hands into your face a little harder, just to make sure you’re real, that this is what you want. You open your mouth against his, letting your tongue into his mouth, his working against your own as you let out a throaty moan, swallowing it down into his own mouth as he shifts you both, laying you down onto the sheets on your back.

“You gonna let me make it up to you, pretty girl?” He murmurs, pulling back just a touch from your mouth, “Gonna let me show you how sorry I am?”

You nod, but he doesn’t move, he’s waiting for your permission, “Please,” You whine, lifting your hips into his, feeling him already semi-hard in his pants, “Make me feel good Joel.”

So he does. He reaches his warm hands under his shirt that you're wearing, pulling it up and over your head. Your chest is bare underneath it, you didn’t bother with a bra today, mainly because you’d imagined you’d be spending most of it naked anyway. He trails his hot mouth down from your neck, kissing the skin between the valley of your tits, before he’s sucking one into his mouth. Your fingers tangle into his curls, keeping his head right there as he flicks your nipple with the tip of his tongue, pulling it into a stiff peak before he lavishes it with the attention of the flat of his tongue. He pulls his mouth from you, switching sides to your other breast – callused thumb working the nipple from before as he gives the same attention to this one, all whilst you’re grinding your hips up into him, friction causing a pool of wetness to gather between your thighs.

Once he feels like he’s worked you up enough here, he pulls away, wrapping his hands around your wrists to drag your hands to your tits. He settles your hands on them, looking up at you through hooded eyes as he drags his tongue over the skin of your tummy, “Play with them,” He demands, “Use your fingers on those perfect tits whilst I eat your pussy, pretty girl.”

You do as you’re told, rolling your nipples between your thumb and pointer finger as he drags your sweatpants off your legs. You spread your own legs for him as he settles between you, his mouth licking gently over your folds, before he’s using two fingers to spread the lips of your pussy, baring your aching cunt to his face.

“Dripping fuckin’ wet for me already, darlin’,” He growls, biting into the soft skin of your thigh, sucking to leave a mark, “Always so fuckin’ eager for my cock, ain’t ya?”

Fuck, you love it when he’s like this. When his need to fuck you, to mark you, takes over, when he’s possessive with you, when he’s rough with you. When he uses his mouth and teeth to mark you as his own, even if you’re not, not really, not fully.

You buck your hips into his face, silently begging for him to make you feel good. He splays a wide palm over your tummy, pressing you down into the mattress to keep you still, as his warm tongue slips inside your hole, licking the slick that’s been gathering there for him. You get off on this, the way he laps at you, tasting you, groaning into you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. He drags that perfect tongue all the way up your pussy, giving one singular flick to your clit with the tip of his tongue before he’s plunging two of his fingers into your cunt. You arch your back off the bed, crying out as he fucks you with his fingers, tip of his tongue teasingly flicking against that bundle of nerves. He’s rough with it, the way his fingers pound into you, but you don’t care. Let it hurt, is what you think, let me carry this delicious pain and ache with me for days so I can remember him like this.

He's pushing you so fast towards that edge. That knot that is pulled so tight inside you threatening to push you over the edge as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

“Oh fuck!” You exclaim, hands squeezing at your tits, “Joel, I’m-” You let out a high-pitched squeal, muscles clenching around his fingers, “Gonna come.”

He doesn’t bother to respond to you, just carries on exactly as he is until you’re literally screaming his name into the room. You push down onto his fingers and finally feel that tight rope snap inside of you, pleasure bursting at the base of your spine, throttling through the rest of your body like wildfire. You’re half aware of the fact you’re soaking the sheets as you continue to writhe your hips against his mouth. He’s pulling away from you, slipping his fingers from you, chuckling in that way that he does when he’s proud of himself.

“Fuckin’ love when you squirt for me, pretty girl,” He growls against the skin of your tummy as he trails his mouth back up your body, he’s pushing the two fingers he had inside you past your lips when he’s level with your face, smirking as you clean yourself off him, “Gonna let me fuck you now?” He asks, you moan in response around his fingers, “Gonna fuck you so good, pretty girl, give you all the babies you want.”

He pulls back enough to drag his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere behind him, pushing his own sweatpants down his legs, kicking them off to the bottom of the bed, letting his throbbing cock free. He’s settling between your thighs, your own hand reaching down to grip him, guiding him to your aching cunt. He swats your hand away, hands gripping the headboard above you as he pushes into you.

You let out a gasp as he buries himself inside you to the hilt. He never fails to take your breath away when he’s inside you, slotting into you perfectly, stretching you just right. You’re so full of him, his body crowding over you from above as he starts dragging himself in and out of you. It’s rough, and it’s fast, he’s desperately trying to tell you that he’s sorry, that he’s built just for this, put on this earth to give you everything you wanted whilst making you feel good.

“I can’t,” Joel chokes out, “I can’t be gentle with you, pretty girl.”

You know, because he’s splitting you right open down the middle, both hands gripping the headboard as his hips slam into yours. He’s so fucking deep, his cock punching right into the depths of you. Your hands, settled on his sides, grind into his skin, nails digging in so hard you’re sure you’re going to puncture his skin, draw blood.

“D-don’t care Joel,” You manage to speak, before a particularly loud wail leaves your mouth, “Just… don’t fucking stop.”

And he doesn’t. Looking up at him, he’s like a man possessed. He’s fucking you so hard, so good, that you’re crying, tears of mixed pleasure and pain rolling down your cheeks as he tries to prove how sorry he really is, how much he regrets what he did, what he’s said. He was a fool to think he could get away with his attitude, and he will stay here, cock buried inside you for as long as he must to prove his remorse to you.

His low, rough grunts are mixing with your needy moans. He drops down, body pressed right to yours. He finds your hands at his sides, brings them up above your head, his fingers tangled in your own as his mouth bites and sucks at the skin of your neck, along your collarbone, leaving marks across your perfect skin, marking you as his own.

“You my good girl?” He rasps into your ear, breath hot against you as he uses his tongue to literally lick the salty tears from your face, “Cryin’ on my cock like a good girl, huh?”

“A-always Joel,” You mewl as he shifts your bodies slightly, his cock brushing against that spot inside you, making you cry out, “Always your good girl.”

“I know you are, pretty girl,” He grunts into your ear, “Mine, aren’t you?”

And you agree, because fuck it, you are. You are his. You’ve been his since the first time he knelt between your legs and asked Tommy how you liked it. You might be Tommy’s girl first, but you’re just as much Joel’s as you are Tommy’s. They both lay claim to you, both own you in some way, and you’re perfectly okay with that.

“Fuck, Joel,” You hiss quietly, turning your head so your cheek is pressed against his where he’s settled his face in the crook of his neck, “Please,” You beg, “Please come inside me.”

“You want me to fill you up, mama?” He asks, hips still bruising against yours, the slap of his skin on yours, the wet squelch of your pussy around him filling the room.

“Give me my baby, daddy,” You almost whisper to him, hands squeezing his where they’re still entwined above your head, “Let go for me, Joel.”

He pulls out of you abruptly, manhandling you with a roughness you’re not used to so you’re on your front. His hands pull at your hips, angling your ass up for him as he’s pounding straight back into you. He’s gathered your hands at the small of your back, your face pressed into the mattress. This new angle mean’s he’s driving into you in a completely different way as before, and you have to push your face further into the sheets, so your screams are muffled. Joel doesn’t like that though, his drags his fingers through your hair, fisting it tightly, pulling you up, so your screams of pleasure are echoing around the room.

“Don’t you dare,” He growls, “Don’t you dare hide these sounds from me, pretty girl.”

This angle is new. Your hands are gathered in one of his at your back, his other hand tangled in your hair means you’re arched off the bed for him, and you think if you could reach a hand down, you’d be able to feel him in your stomach he’s so fucking deep inside you.

It happens all of a sudden, he’s so fucking still, but you can feel him pouring himself into you, you can hear him spitting your name and a string of profanities as he lets go of the tight grip he has on your hair. He’s buried so deep inside you, his front draped over your back, the entire weight of him on your body, but he’s trying to push himself deeper into you, trying to get what he’s just planted inside of you to take. He’s just as desperate as you are for this, to see you swell with his baby again.

Once his brain is working again, he slips from inside of you, collapsing onto the bed on his back, dragging you with him. He pulls you so close, his thighs spread wide so your body fits between them, your front pressed against his as you drape you entire self on him. He grabs your hands, bringing the wrists he was just gripping to his lips, kissing softly at the skin to soothe you.

“Too much?” He mumbles into the top of your head, his chest heaving against yours as you both try and catch your breath.

“Just enough.” You mumble back into the sweat-soaked skin of his chest.

It’s silent for a moment, both of you drifting in a haze of pleasure and exhaustion, but he speaks again as he wraps those arms around you, anchoring you right where you are, “I will spend the rest of my life proving how sorry I am to you.”

“I believe you,” You muse, “I will always believe you.”

And that’s how you both fall asleep, his arms cradling you to his body. He wishes that he could freeze time, enjoy this for longer than the few seconds he has before you fall asleep. He’s sick of your time always running out, of that ticking clock counting down to the unknown. He has no idea what’s going to happen once this weekend is over. Has no idea what you’re going to say to Tommy, what you’re going to propose to him. He’s never been good at relinquishing control, especially when he can’t for the life of him tell what’s going to happen. But, if there’s one thing he does know, it’s that what he said to you last night is true. That he trusts you with his life, and he will follow you blindly into whatever abyss you’re going to drag him into.

571 notes · View notes

ador3him · 3 months ago

Note

OMGGG, headcanons of the Dream team dating the highest paid super model ?? sfw and nsfw😭.

Also can i be 👻 anon?

pairing: dream team x supermodel!streamer

requested? Yes! By 👻 anon !

authors note: welcome 👻 anon!! I have never written smut before so BARE WITH ME (I cannot write smut omg it's so bad)

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

DREAM

-he would be so supportive, but very secretive of your relationship

-only people in his personal life would know.

-but if someone ever mentioned you in his chat or comments he'd go silent.

-maybe it was a random comment on how you guys would be cute together or maybe it was an accusation because you guys were seen together.

-hed eventually tell his fans but be very strict about everything, telling his fans not to bombard her because your career was very important and he didn't want you getting hate.

-he would also never let you pay for anything, he'd buy dinners, flowers, chocolates, lingerie.

NSFW!!

-as a supermodel you were on the taller side and he was obsessed.

-hed be drooling and hard at the look of you in a dress with your long, smooth legs the centre of attention from your skimpy yet classy outfit.

-hed love to watch your runway shows on tv with one hand around his aching cock and his eyes glued to the screen.

-sometimes he'd fuck you before a shoot, burying his cum in your pussy and make you go to the shoot with his cum dripping from you.

SAPNAP

-to be honest he probably found you on Instagram and he cheesily slid into your DMs.

-he would def flaunt your relationship online with his Instagram and Twitter being a yn fan page.

-hed also promotes your runway shows and any magazines you're in like it's his job

"Chat look at my gorgeous, rich, sexy girlfriend. Stay mad,"

NSFW!!!

-cowgirl is def his fav, seeing you- a strong, feminine lady fall apart around his cock, whining about being tired and being forced to continue.

-because your rich he begged you to have sex in a pile of cash, yes it is kinda dirty but it made him groan at the look of you naked in all your money soaking wet for him.

GEORGE

-he probably ran into you at a store, he needed some food for the house and he wanted to find something healthy after the couple weeks of junk food, you guys reached for the same bag of apples.

-he first noticed your well manicured hands- a light blue.

-hes normally outgoing personality when he looked to you.

"I am so sorry- oh my god, you're yn?"

-he recognised you from a website he was on looking for clothes, he cyberstalked you afterwards.

"wow,"

-suprisingly he's very complimentary, showering you in praise. Peppering you in kisses.

-he sits front row in your runway shows and comes with you to photoshoots..

-at runway shows he has a poster with your face on it and screams out when you come down. (Yes he gets kicked out sometimes).

NSFW

-when he comes with you to photoshoots he likes to fuck you in your dressing room.

-he slids his hand around your throat, choking you to stifle any moans.

-he lifts you of the ground against the dressing room wall, your legs wrapped around his bare waist and heels digging into his back.

-his free hand holds your ass squeezing it when you make a peep.

-he also would love to cum in your panties and make you wear them.

"be a good girl and wear them, wanna see your reaction to my cum dripping down you, sweetheart,"

86 notes · View notes

sugar-plum-writer · 10 months ago

Text

A Heian Era Affair

Paring: GojoSatrou!ModernEra x FemReader!HeianEra! Tags: Fem!Reader; Gojo!imagines; slight!mention of violence; 18+ as more chapters come; slow burn [I want to have a good build up~ just like my Sukuna series fic~]; An ancient Japan romance through time with reader Text: Gojo ends up in the Heian Era through unknown reason (will be revealed later on) and meets reader and hence a journey begins both of adventure and romance~ [If you all like it, please heart and reblog the post! to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! or leave a comment to tag you when I put out new chapters~ I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!]

CHAPTER - 2

You were stuck now, you barely had enough for yourself and now this 190cm giant man was in your house, how did you end up like this even you are confused yourself. All you remember was eating something known as a cheesecake and the next thing he and you were in your house

"Oh wow, it really is old" Looking around he touched the wooden beams examining the craftsmanship

"Fascinating!"

"Well…it-"

Before you could say anything; a loud slam on the door boomed across the room making you freeze in terror- as if a demon had arrived

"HIDE!" hurriedly you shoved him in the corner much to his confusion

"Wh-?"

"Don't…make a single sound…got it? Please…" Trembling you looked at him and closed the cupboard

"Y/n! Open the door!" with a bang the door of the house flew open causing you shrink back in horror

"There you are" loud steps thumped as the wooden floors creaked underneath, a man walked in smirking- about seven feet tall, his voice dripping with malice

"If you ain't gonna pay the tax today~" smacking his lips eyeing you head to toe "I will need to collect it some other way hehe~"

"It won't be necessary, I have the money" Opening a drawer shakily- you took almost all the money you had and gave it to him

He was disappointed but took the bag of coins, "You won't be so lucky next time…Y/n" Looking at you with a filthy grin he left slamming the door shut behind him

"phew…"

"Who…was that?" his stern breathy voice made you jolt

"It…was the tax collector…he is the right-hand man of the chief…he always targets me…aish it's hard our leader is trash really", biting your lips you glared at the door the man walked out from, "I want to leave this village and go away somewhere else…but…I don't have enough money nothing can be done..." you stood up groaning

"I see…." with a nod clenching his jaw, he looked at you

"Now about you" Looking at him up and down your brain raced with what to do about his appearance, he was tall, his hair was white- eyes were blue, and he was super good-looking. His clothes were weird- he screamed attention; if anyone saw him god knows what would happen to you

"Yes, what about me?"

"Since you can teleport and all can you also change your appearance like magic?"

"I cannot…I might be able to fight, teleport etc but I cannot change my appearance- I am no magician though it would be fun heh~"

"So you are useless then"

"Hey! I am not useless! I am very strong…the strongest" pouting he crossed his arms together

"Yeah, Yeah…as if" Rolling your eyes you sighed

"Can you at least do household chores? Help around the house? Washing clothes, dishes?"

"Yeah! I can I am Gojo Satrou after all~" he smirked cockily

"Fine good…not completely useless then" Looking at him with doubt you rummaged through your drawers and took out a set of old blue robes

"This…belonged to my father... he died in a war so you can use it for now..." your voice dripped with melancholy as you handed the robes to him

"I see…well thank you I will...treasure it" he tried to smile but the atmosphere was gloomy as he looked at the robes

"By the way? What is your name?"

"Y/n is my name, you change- I will prepare dinner", walking out of the room you made your way to the kitchen

After some time, the scent of hot food and its aroma permeated the air, he sat near the table as you arranged the plates, bowls, and chopsticks

"What is this?" he looked at the food curiously like a child who found something interesting

"It is millet porridge rice, with some vegetables on the side"

"I see…no meat?" picking up his chopsticks he took a bite

"Hmm! Not bad now this 100% organic food~" humming he ate

"Meat is a luxury for nobles, we peasants…it's a dream to even eat a bite, sure some people hunt, but I can't…I don't have enough strength" Picking up your chopsticks you ate your food

"What is organic?" you looked at him, he sure used some weird terms

"It is…well...uh it's like pure food you know? without anything added to it!"

"How do you add something to food? It is gross"

"It is, the world after 1000 years is very different! buildings are touching the skies with more than 30 floors" Excited he explained many things as you guys ate, even something known as a car though you don't know what it meant, it was fascinating though

"It is....very different, your time sounds nice; I guess people are not suffering as much" you chuckled

"Our time has it's own problems but hey! maybe when I go back I can show it to you~" he smirked smugly

"Really?" your breath hitched as you looked at him, to be able to live in a world like that is it possible?

"Well, if I do manage to find a way back…I also need to find my clan" helping you pick up the dishes, he and you together washed the dishes- sure he did look dumbstruck, when he saw the ancient way as he called it when you sat down to wash dishes

"Man…I really appreciate modern technology now…thank god humans evolved...I cannot live like this...." sighing he did his best; though he broke one bowl but the guilty puppy eyes he gave you made you not say anything

Seeing him struggle you could not help but chuckle; soon everything came to an end, all the dishes were washed and it was time for bed- finally the day had come to an end after all the chaos you were exhausted

"I only have one futon so we will need to share, I never needed two so I never bought another one...is that okay with you?" taking out the futon and pillows you arranged them on the tatami wooden floor

"Well...I uh don't have any other choice do I? I am in no position to complain haha~" chuckling he laid down on the futon and you laid down beside him; blowing out the candles as the moonlight illuminated the room and braided your hair

"You said you were from the Gojo Clan I have never heard of it?" turning towards him, batting your eyes you gazed at him

"Well...our clan has existed since the Heian era"

"What...? that is amazing to survive till your time...more than a 1000 years"

"Yeah", smirking his azure eyes glistened under the moonlight, "It is, but I never cared....does not matter to me I just need to find the clan in this era...and find a way back"

"But...how will you convince them you are part of the clan?"

"No need to worry, just my ability is enough to convince them~ I am that great after all~"

"Huh....you mean their are more people with powers like you?"

"Oh dear you have no idea~ how vast the world truly is- it's beyond your wildest dreams"

"Really?....where is your clan though?"

"Well...that's the point I don't know; in the modern times it's in Tokyo, but...I don't know where Tokyo is in this era...hah.." sighing he looked you with tired eyes

You paused

"I am sure you will find it...." smiling you looked at him trying to cheer him up

"I hope so~ if not ahhhhh I don't know what I will do~ maybe become head of the clan in this era or something?" with a wink he sneered

"Y...you know how hard it is to become a clan head? people DIE trying to do so...?" your eyes widened in horror

"Darling~" leaning in lips inches apart "All the worries are unnecessary, Afterall I am the strongest~ just trust me dear!"

Link to my pinned post which has my master list and other links! in case you want to read more of my works!

[I have tried my best to look through historical maps of Japan in the Heian era and hence many details I use will be historical just like in my first chapter. From food to location to lifestyle~] And thank you so much for more than a 100 followers! I am so glad you all like my work! my asks are open in case you have any questions for me etc~ I will put out a short intro of myself! <3

164 notes · View notes

madelynraemunson · 1 year ago

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

(strip club owner!eddie × fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!× reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ minors get out of my kitchen

Chapter 010: The Freak

A fight breaks out at the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 4.4k words

warnings & disclaimers — mentions of seggs tr@ff!ck!ng, lots of blood, violence, physical altercation, profanities, glass shattering, screaming, jealousy

“I feel it coming, my soul cannot be found. I feel it coming, don’t fucking tie me down.”

♡

Eddie is glued to Nina’s hip during her orientation.

You can hardly watch. You can’t even listen. All Back of the House seems to be talking about is the fact that the cute new girl pulled up to work with Eddie. Apparently she skipped out of the passenger side of his van stoned out of her mind, waltzing in absentmindedly while Eddie opened the door for her.

Nina’s excuse was that she didn't have a ride to work. And while that may be true, your jealousy was projecting itself...hard. The times you were in Eddie’s van sitting right where she was were completely unrelated to work.

But Nina is a pretty girl. Eddie does love doing favors for pretty girls who flatter him.

You still couldn’t figure out why no one will talk about anything else. Like how Henry has evidently been spiraling into a lonely, seasonal depressive episode and could snap any minute. Or how whoever is closing isn’t sweeping the aisle all the way through. Also, one of the lights keeps flickering. Totally throws off the whole vibe of VECNA’S LAIR.

But no, the hot topic of today’s shift is still Nina and Eddie.

It's an awakening for you though. Now you really understand and have accepted that you are no different from everyone else.

Eddie’s jokes? He recycles with everybody.

Food? Makes for everybody.

Smoking and drinking in his van? With everybody.

Calls on Henry to fight off the bad guys? Yes, for everybody…

You are not special.

Speaking of Henry…he’s off task again. Luckily lunches are usually not busy so he can afford to be away from the door.

Henry is at VECNA’S LAIR with you, chatting away with Eddie’s buddy Gareth while you give Gareth a lap dance. And you can tell by the eagerness in Henry’s eyes that he’s anticipating his dance that you agreed to do for him to combat his loneliness.

“You gotta let me know how your dance goes, Creel,” Gareth grins. “Shy Girl is one of the best.”

Gareth is one of your regulars. He went to school with Eddie, played in his band Corroded Coffin when they were younger, and he also tips well. Eddie usually stays and chats with him, but today he is off and aloof, avoiding any type of eye contact with the both of you.

Screw Eddie. He’s seemed to have forgotten about you already now that there’s a new toy for him to play with.

“I love how you move your hips, babe,” Henry comments, snapping you back into reality. “And how you bond with every customer. I had no idea men pay you just to talk to them sometimes.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” you nod all while grinding yourself onto Gareth, hands combing through his wavy hair and trailing down to graze his neck. “Some guys just come here just to vent. Business men, teachers, doctors...”

“That’s really nice,” Henry blushes.

“Bouncers too,” you wink at him. “You know, when they’re not clocked in and supposed to be working.”

Henry’s eyes widen as he realizes, and soon he’s back up and starting towards the door. You and Gareth share an innocent chuckle about it before carrying on with your business.

"I can tell that dude is lonely," Gareth makes the same observation. "He doesn't have that many friends outside work."

"I wonder why," you ponder aloud, doing a little dance on Gareth’s lap. "He's so nice."

"From what Eddie told me, it's hard for Henry to open up to people," your patron explains. "Dude had a fucked up home life when he was younger. Dad was a piece of shit to him and his sister. Abused the shit outta 'em and their mom."

There's a pattern here. You try not to think about it.

"Anyways," Gareth says pulling out a $20 bill. "Can you give me scratches on my back? Trying to make an ex flame jealous."

"You manipulative fuck," you banter, snagging the $20 from him anyway. "I'm sure you have your reasons though."

So you honor Gareth's requests and leave some sharp etchings on his back, one large scratch in the shape of a heart.

You scan the club as you work, searching for your sister. Max is spotted near the entrance of the club, acquainting herself with Lucas and Dustin. She also met Steve earlier today and admitted to you that she has an innocent crush on him.

Of course she would. Who wouldn’t have a crush on The King?

You smile at how easy Max makes friends. She tries not to look at you while working but sometimes her curiosity takes over.

Gareth nods towards her.

"I see your sister knows the big secret now."

"Yeah, one less thing to worry about," you shrug sheepishly.

"She's supportive, I'm assuming?"

"Very."

"That's good," Gareth rubs your back. "I'm happy for you."

“Thanks,” you smile.

You catch sight of Steve next as he walks over to you. He greets you with a warm kiss and rests a hand at your waist.

Eddie watches you with Steve and Gareth, attempting to remain composed and professional with Nina as he spots her on the pole.

"What is going on here?" Steve asks you.

"I'm trying to make one of Gareth's ol' lady friends jealous," you explain. "Leaving him scratches and all."

"I love your sharp ass nails," Gareth swoons. He hands you a five.

"You are just spoiling me today,” you coo. “You can pick out my nail color next, Gare.”

"Green," Gareth answers right away.

"Yeah, I second that," Steve agrees.

Steve leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back, affectionately, relishing in how beautiful Steve always made you feel. Meanwhile, Gareth watches, running his hands softly across your thighs and muttering a soft, “fuck…”

And then you hear Eddie clear his throat closeby you.

"Jesus H. Christ," you hear Eddie grimace.

Eddie sounds uncomfortable. Good. It is not until someone else speaks that you realize he was shaken up about something else.

“Well well well,” comes a voice. “Looking just as skanky as you did when I last saw you.”

You look to see the patron standing by the entrance. He’s the scariest he’s ever looked. Your heart sinks to the floor.

It’s hard for you to find the words. “You...”

“Boo,” he grins, amused at how startled you are. “Kinda insulting that you think all these men can give you more than I can.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you demand.

Frantic footsteps sound not too long after, and Henry comes spilling in. He looks mortified, panicked. He had one job and he failed to do it.

“Hargrove, I’m sorry!”

“Henry!” you scold him, almost at a scream-whisper. “You weren’t supposed to let him in!”

“I didn’t know!” Henry exclaims.

“I thought Eddie told you!”

“I forgot!” Henry says. “It all happened so fast.”

“Yeah, security here sucks,” the man you’re tempted to throw something at smirks.

A crowd starts to form, which is odd because no one said anything that inherently stood out. But energy doesn’t lie. The tension in the room is noticeable.

“You can’t be here,” Eddie’s voice darkens.

Eddie makes his way down from the stage and to the front of the club, Nina watching in confusion as everyone huddled around. Eddie clears his throat and stands with his chest propped forward, chin raised along with his gritted teeth.

“You’re not welcome here,” your boss snaps.

“That’s no way to talk to a customer…”

“I know who you’re here for and you can’t have her,” Eddie growls.

Eddie looks over at you. Making his way into the crossfire, Eddie creates even more space between the two of you. Henry stays where he’s at on high alert.

“And I own this joint. So I can refuse service to anyone… Billy.”

Your twin brother flashes a dangerous, amused smile. “I see I’ve become a household name.”

Billy inches closer to you, leaving you paralyzed in place.

He looks different from when you last saw him. A lot more muscular. His beer belly is gone, and he finally shaved that obnoxious porn stache that he swore drew in all the ladies. Billy looks more satisfied at your horror than angry at who you’ve become.

A million thoughts are racing through your head. How could your brother have possibly known where you are? Did you leave your location on? Did you butt-dial him? Was it 'twintuition'?

Then you remember he's Billy. And a sociopath like Billy always finds a way to win.

“Eddie Munson,” Billy continues. “Owner of The Hellfire Club. Drug dealer. Car jacker. The town FREAK who’s notorious for sleeping with his employees before attempting to sell them into a sex trafficking ring in the outskirts of town.”

“That is SO NOT TRUE!” you hear Chrissy scream from behind the boys.

“Oh, hey Cherry!” Billy chimes. “Huge fan of your work. So is Eddie, though. And a million other men, so what makes me special huh?”

Henry is hovering, lingering between Eddie and Billy with a stance you knew all too well. The angled torso, a hand floating ready to butt in. The memories come flooding into the room in the form of burning tears against your waterline. Your throat is tight.

“How…the fuck…” you choke. “Did you find me?”

Billy flashes you his phone. Looking through his cracked screen, you see that the evidence is all on Reddit. Sure enough, there you were, doing your thing in a video surrounded by tons of men, exposing your birthmark that’s oh so similar to Billy’s.

“This girl is so fucking hot!” a Redditor comments.

“What’s her name?” someone asks.

“She goes by Shy Girl,” another answers. “Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club in Hawkins, IN.”

It’s no surprise that Billy follows the ‘stripper’ Sub-Reddit. You’ve gone viral, so of course he was bound to see it.

“Ever heard of a digital footprint?” Billy questions darkly. “Shy Girl?”

You gulp. In the age of technology, you should’ve known that your cover would be blown if you stood out well enough. How could you be so stupid?

“Oh look!” your brother chuckles. “There it is, the biggest giveaway of all. Right front and center… your birthmark."

“You win,” is all you can say. “You can stop now.”

“I’m not trying to win anything,” Billy jeers. “I’m just saying, if you had a brain, you would’ve at least thought to cover it up with makeup or something.”

Eddie looks over at you with sad eyes. It’s the first time he truly looked helpless. A part of him also looks like his own cover is blown too. You can’t help but wonder why.

“Yeah, you could say I did my research,” Billy draws on. He shoves his phone back into his pocket. “It kept me occupied on the plane. The news articles aren’t hard to find either. Hawkins is pretty small. A whole shoebox compared to Leucadia.”

His eyes dart back to Eddie. “And I’ve read up a lot about you.”

“You know the media loves to twist things,” Eddie hisses. “Especially if everything about me fits the narrative they’re trying to sell.”

Billy decides to challenge him. “So you’re saying everything is fake news?”

Eddie doesn’t comment. It strikes you odd that Eddie doesn’t even try to defend himself. What could he and Billy possibly be talking about it?

“Funny, I on the contrary believe you’ve earned your reputation,” Billy insists.

“What is he talking about Eddie?” you ask.

“Just forget about it,” Eddie shuts down.

“Yeah, forget about it,” Billy somewhat agrees. He turns to you. “You’re coming with me.”

You turn to Max. She watches, terrified as Billy ushers you in the corner. You’re too drained to fight back so you let him. But when you finally meet his eyes, Billy looks like your brother again.

“Seriously, WHAT were you thinking?” his voice shows genuine concern.

Billy sounds more disappointed now than vengeful.

“This is all because of YOU,” you snap. “I had no choice.”

“That’s your bullshit excuse?” Billy demands, eyes welling up with tears. “You’re a fucking waitress! I’m sure Benny’s down the block would’ve sufficed.”

Billy’s an asshole, for sure. But at the end of the day he’s still a multifaceted human. When the trauma doesn’t take over, he’s a level-headed individual. A clear thinker with good critical thinking skills and an ability to read the room. Something you’ve spent your whole life second-guessing yourself over.

Your brother continues his tangent.

“YOU HAVEN’T DANCED IN YEARS, first of all. The only ‘stripping’ you know is when you go skinny dipping with your little hoe friends at Black's Beach. You don’t have a permit to dance, which I’m pretty sure is illegal somehow because EVERYWHERE ELSE in Indiana requires a stripping permit. You don’t even know anything about what this industry entails, yet you cannonball headfirst into it like it’s just easy. This industry is a hotspot for sex trafficking. Millions and women and little girls are kidnapped every year and forced into sex work, don’t you know that?”

Billy nudges the ribbons in your hair.

“Child-like ribbons in your hair too. You disgust me.”

He pauses. It’s like he has an epiphany. The devilish smirk returns.

“But maybe Eddie knew that,” he tuts, waving a stupid finger of his in the air. “BINGO! With the little experience you have, Eddie must’ve known you were naive. Desperate. A little bit of a slut. Eddie knew he just HAD to get his hands on you. Take advantage of you. Exploit you.”

“Shut up.”

You knew Billy was being dumb. But what he says makes sense. And in the depths of your wounded heart, what he said felt true in a sense. Because there was a time you did feel betrayed by Eddie. Meanwhile Eddie has gone pale.

All eyes are on you now, and not for the reason you want. Sure, it’s a strip club. But never have you ever felt so naked. Never has your soul ever felt so exposed.

“Yeah…” Billy grins. It’s like you can see the gears grinding in his head. He flashes Eddie a disgusted look. “That’s exactly what it is. You know, you give me the creeps, Munson. Sure you hear that a lot.”

“You give me the creeps…Hargrove,” Eddie counters. “With how IN LOVE you seem to be with your sister.”

Eddie takes a few steps towards him to elaborate.

“Showing up to the place she strips at…causing a scene when you see her on someone’s lap… and then proceeding to tell her no one will love her like you do?”

Eddie scoffs.

“Yeah. Totally not creepy.”

“We’re family, Eddie,” Billy sighs. “Families love each other. Of course you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Hey, douchebag—” Steve begins but Chrissy stops him.

“Too fucking far, Billy,” you plead. “Stop.”

“You know what else I found out?” Billy smiles. “Your boy toy Eddie comes from a long line of crooks.”

Billy turns to Eddie. “Your half brother Eagan is a con man in Montauk, New York. And your other brother Ansen Wayne back in Memphis got arrested for, guess what? Arson! Funny.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Chrissy roars again.

But Billy proceeds. “And if I’m not mistaken, your dad Al is a drug dealer who married one of his clients, your mother. And guess what? When she wasn’t bringing him any money? He pimp slapped her in broad daylight and eventually slit her throat.”

Billy looks you in the eyes when he says that.

“How tragic,” Billy breathes. “Dad killing Mom.”

Billy turns back to Eddie.

“One dysfunctional ass family. And a poor excuse of a son.”

“Takes one to know one,” Eddie spits.

Billy laughs and nods. You’re surprised that doesn’t set him off.

“I’m not entertaining this,” your brother refuses. “I’m trying to be a better person, but Munson you are pushing it. Nah, my family is where I draw the line. Come on, sis. You’re coming with me.”

Yanking you by the wrist, Billy pulls you along with him.

“No,” you refuse.

But his grip is too tight. Now you’re just along for the ride.

“I would never do anything to hurt your sister,” Eddie says, running after you both. Henry follows closely behind Eddie. “Surely that’s something you can’t say.”

“You’d never do anything to hurt her?” Billy halts challenging him with the most satisfied grin on his face. “You’d never do anything to hurt her?”

Eddie nods. Billy releases you, sending you flying forward into Max’s arms. She’s shaking when you wrap your arms around her for comfort.

“What happened to Isabelle then, Eddie?” Billy taunts him. “Court records are also public, you know.”

Isabelle. Eddie’s ex-girlfriend. How does Eddie’s ex-GF fit into Hellfire’s narrative? In your mind you always thought Isabelle was a random chick.

The whole room is silent. It’s like a wave washed over everybody. Eddie simply stands there, no visible reaction besides the look of defeat.

Something tells you something is very, very wrong. Finally, Eddie speaks.

“Don’t you EVER bring up my wife again,” Eddie’s voice is breaking. “I loved her with my whole heart.”

Your world stops. Everyone else’s keeps going.

“Your wife?” you exclaim. “You have a wife?”

Billy exudes a Joker-like laugh as he watches the lore unravel.

“Ex-wife,” Eddie corrects himself. “We’re separated.”

His gaze burns into Billy.

“Since you’re such a historian, Hargrove,” Eddie hisses. “I’m afraid you missed the part where Isabelle used me to get her hands on my business and then weaponized the fact that she’s a woman to try and tarnish it during our separation. But of course, it doesn’t feed your narrative about me so you’re purposely leaving it out.”

“That’s what you get then,” Billy’s tongue glides against his inner cheek. “For getting involved with an employee. They’re all the same. A bunch of gold-digging whores.”

It all makes sense now. You look over at Eddie. Plastered on his face is the same haunted eyes he had the night he tried to resist your advances. Now you know why Eddie was so hesitant to pursue you. He wasn’t playing hard to get. He was guarding his heart. And his business.

“So, you wanna tell us about the trafficking ring?” Billy questions.

“I didn’t try to sell her,” Eddie spat. “God dammit. Our marriage was bleeding into work so I had to send her to a different club. One I thought I trusted. But the owner stabbed me in the back also.”

“Yeah!” Chrissy adds. “He was an undercover pimp! Didn’t you read the court docs on the plane like you said?”

“He’s not exactly book smart, Chris,” Eddie smirks. “Too many big words for his big brain to handle.”

There’s nothing else for Billy to say. His failed attempt to paint Eddie as the bad guy and him as the hero did not go to plan. But as usual, Billy wants the last word.

“Stay away from my sister.”

And soon your wrists are suffocated by his grip again. You whimper in fear as Billy drags you along, angrily pulling you towards the exit while resisting your kicks and shoves.

“This is what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna go put your fucking clothes on,” Billy’s voice shakes. “Grab your shit, and you and Max are gonna come back home with me. Away from this shady bullshit.”

You can tell Billy is also terrified for you. But this is your story to write now. Not his. This is a narrative he cannot control.

“No!” you scream. “My new life is HERE.”

“The fuck it isn’t,” Billy denies. “Your life and Max’s lives are in California.”

“Are you deaf?” Steve demands. “She said no. Let her go.”

“Aw, now Walmart Ashton Kutcher has something to say!”

“Leave me alone, Billy,” you wail. “We are not going with you.”

“It’s all an inside job,” Billy is shaking now. “He’s no good for you, sis. Don’t you understand? How can you be so blind?”

“It’s my journey!” you roar. “And my life. You don’t get to control me anymore, especially since you’re part of the problem. And I’d rather be provided for by men like you than live with you ever again.”

Billy can only chuckle. “You’re delusional.”

He grabs Max on the way out.

“Max come on.”

“NO!” Max refuses.

Steve jumps in front of her and pulls her behind him. Billy rushes to grab Steve but is pushed back by Henry.

“Why are you grabbing Harrington?” Henry demands.

“Why’s he grabbing my sister?”

You’re waiting for Billy to face Henry’s wrath. He’s already trying to create space between the both of you so that you can wriggle free.

“HEY!”

To your surprise, the fist that meet’s Billy’s nose isn’t Henry’s.

“EDDIE!” Chrissy shrieks.

“WHOA MAN!” Steve screams, trying to run and stop the fight but Henry tackles him.

“EDDIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Dustin demands. “EDDIE, STOP!”

Billy is blindsided by Eddie with little to no time to react. Eddie gets two good punches in when he’s sprawled on top of him.

But Billy is quick to bounce back. Already accustomed to punches, Billy allows Eddie a few more blows to tire him out. When his hair gets in the way, Billy grabs Eddie by the wrist and tosses him off, hoisting himself over him to get him in a headlock.

“Son…of…a BITCH!” Eddie elbows him.

And as Billy scrunches to block his ribcage, Eddie gets him with a good left hook and a right cross-jab.

Blood splatters from Billy’s nose onto the surrounding area.

“HOLY SHIT!” Dustin shrieks.

“BILLY!” Maxine screams.

“You guys, STOP!” you order.

You rush over to your brother and attempt to pry him off. Steve rushes to Eddie and tries to do the same.

Billy’s stumbling back, unusual since he always wins fights. This is causing you to stumble back and lose your grip on him. Eddie gets a few more good punches in.

Jab. Jab. Jab. Jab-cross. Upper cut. Upper cut. And a seismic kick to the solar plexus.

Eddie Munson is strong.

“EDDIE, LEAVE HIM ALONE!” cries Chrissy. “YOU’RE GONNA KILL HIM IF YOU DON’T STOP.”

“Yeah?” Eddie mutters. “Well that’s kinda the plan.”

When he hears that, Henry stops whatever he’s doing to charge towards Billy and Eddie. You feel yourself grow lightheaded because of the amount of blood that has been expelled. You can almost smell the iron.

“Nope. That’s enough,” Henry declares, dragging your boss away this time.

Eddie has the advantage now during this time, and he uses all of it, punching Billy mercilessly into the ground. Billy tries to get up, but fails, and just when he’s not looking, Eddie sneaks a few roundhouse kicks to his head and neck.

The blood starts to pool.

“EDDIE, STOP!” everyone continuously chants.

“EDDIE, LET IT GO MAN!” Gareth begs.

“EDDIE, GET OFF OF HIM NOW!” Chrissy pleads.

“IT’S NOT WORTH IT!” Steve says to him.

“YES THE FUCK IT IS!” Eddie roars. “IT IS WORTH IT!”

The sound of glass shattering fills your ears as you look over at the boys. Henry managed to tackle Eddie in one brisk movement, unfortunately taking a small table that housed some beer bottles on it with them.

Now it smells like rust and Corona.

Gareth and Steve take over now, pulling Eddie away while Eddie cusses Billy out through his bloody nose. Meanwhile, Max rushes to Billy’s side and urges him to get out. Henry runs to her aid, dragging out your volatile twin brother so he wouldn’t harm anybody else. Billy’s out of sight now, but the thought of him still lingering in Hawkins until he sees you two again is unsettling.

“Whoa,” Steve exhales.

“What?” you ask him, crossing your arms in frustration.

“Eddie just fought someone,” he pants. “Your brother, Billy at that.”

You try to shrug it off. “Big deal,” you say. “Fights happen all the time here.”

“You don’t understand Hargrove,” Henry says, walking up you. “Eddie never fights anyone.”

You turn to face Henry.

“That’s what I’m here for,” the unscathed bodyguard explains.

———————-

The first person you go over to is Max. Consoling each other, you both hug one another and rock back and forth.

You look off into the corner and see Dustin with a tampon, trying to shove it up Eddie’s bloody nose while Nancy watches in amusement. Eddie swats Dustin’s hands away, mumbling, “Get that shit away from me” and setting for Kleenex instead.

“Shy Girl,” Nancy calls out. “Please come and get your man.”

Confused that she’s even talking to you that way, it dawns on you that Nancy is talking about Eddie. You walk towards Nancy, who is behind the bar, supervising Eddie and Dustin from a distance.

“Do you have some ice?” you ask her.

She holds up a pack she had been preparing.

“Way ahead of you love,” Nancy says.

You chuckle and thank Nancy as you take the ice from her. She gives you a nod, you’re welcome.

“He’s not my man, by the way,” you add, correcting her. “Just did something really sweet.”

“Well does his ass know that?” Nancy raises a brow. “Only a dumbass in love does shit that crazy and stupid.”

You look over at Eddie. His eyes find you at the same time. Chrissy is over in the corner with Nina, talking her down from the anxiety witnessing a fight that bloody must’ve caused her. Steve is over at the lair still, thinking. You can’t read the expression on his face.

Your grip on the ice pack tightens as you walk closer to Eddie. He gives you a nod and a terrible excuse of a wave, slowly wincing in pain after the slightest raise of his left arm.

“You are vile,” you say in his voice from the day it all fell apart. You extend your hand with the ice pack in it to him.

Feeding into your truce, Eddie looks up at you with a faint smile. He takes the ice pack in his hand.

“I prefer the term protective,” he parrots you.

———————————

🏷️ tag list: @battymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86, @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr, @jxpsi , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 5 #eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie x reader #Joseph quinn #Joe quinn #Steve harrington #SoundCloud

294 notes · View notes

ninadove · 3 months ago

Note

For any fandom(s): 12, 15, 16, 19, 23! 💌

As always, you spoil me! 💌

12. Compliment someone else in your fandom

GOD I HAVE TOO MANY FRIENDS TO COMPLIMENT

@beezonia comes up with the coolest AUs and designs. I’m always blown away by their Pokémon team compositions — they’re spot on to the point I consider it its own form of character analysis!

@purplecatghostposts is the genius who showed up out of the blue and took us all by surprise with their amazing prose. Soap, reminder that the reference to Copycat in consider the spare legally binds you to pay for my therapy.

@trishacollins is single-handedly remediating to the lack of platonic bedsharing between the cousins and I can’t thank her enough! She’s also one of the chillest and most approachable people I know.

@luckychatons is our favourite entrepunpurr and constantly lifts our mood with the cutest, most joy-filled sketches! Patting her OCs on the back because they sure need it.

@graythegreyt is such an awesome artist you’d almost forget they’re also one hell of a poet who wields mythological references like Odysseus wields his bow. Did you know they wrote me a poem inspired by God Games? I think everyone should know they wrote me a poem inspired by God Games.

@hartwign is a talented translator and draws hair like no one else. Seriously. I want to run my hands through the cousins’ hair and nestle in there forever.

@phieillydinyia is the picture of dedication! Can’t recommend Candle In The Wind enough, it’s a roleswap rewrite of the Miraculous movie that includes the songs. How cool is that. Thank you for your regular comments on my fics, they always make my day!

@alexandriaellisart words cannot express how much I love your depiction of Feligami. Your writing has made me tear up so many times! AND YOUR ART LOOKS SO SOFT AND COLOURFUL. What a double threat!

@faiirygrahamdevanily we need more fics about the Sentiplot as a metaphor for othering experiences and you’re doing God’s… I mean, Duusu’s work with yours!

@bbutterflies did you know your piece for Sentitwin Week is the best characterisation I’ve ever seen of Felix? This is what people mean when they say a picture is worth a thousand words. And of course your Adrino is always brilliant!

@bittersweetresilience not only are you an extraordinary writer, but you’re constantly looking for new ways to express your love. Always GIFing and weaving and canonising tags and making AMVs and running zines… I can’t wait to see what you do next!

And there’s so many more people I’m forgetting! To say nothing of my friends outside the Miraculous bubble! People are amazing!!! 💖

15. The character that always makes you smile

At the end of the day, it’s all about Clive. He’s been my muse for nearly 15 years! 💙🕊️

16 was answered here! 💖

19. Your current fandom(s)

Professor Layton, forever and always. I can’t wait to share my Big Bang fic and the amazing art that I was blessed with! 💙💛

RWBY, even if I’m lurking more than participating… I love love love love RWBY, yet it doesn’t strike my creative and analytical chords the way Miraculous does. Sometimes you just need to let yourself be swept into a story, you know? Although, it did teach me a couple of writing tricks I’ve used for other fandoms!

EPIC! Wisdom Saga coming soon! 🩵🦉 It makes my little mythology nerd heart supremely happy. The music is a banger and you can feel the knowledge and passion of all the people involved in this project. Jorge in particular is always so excited to share his progress, engaging with creators, explaining his musical choices in a fun and pedagogical way… And the lyrics! It’s free real estate for a fanfic author looking for inspiration and/or titles!

I’d love to start Monte-Cristoposting like I’ve been Cyranoposting and Draculaposting, but I’m afraid of spoilers so for now I’m just screaming in your DMs. As you know. I’m also slowly getting into Honkai: Star Rail, and I’d like to pick up Pokémon Black and White again because a N character study would look great on my AO3 resume.

And of course, Miraculous! 💚💜❤️ It’s the most creative I’ve been in years and it’s all thanks to these sad beautiful silly genius kids. Heart emoji, peacock emoji, sob emoji, etc.

23 was answered here!

Thanks for the ask! 🖤🪶

#miraculous ladybug #professor layton #ask games

46 notes · View notes

sunflowersandsapphires · 7 months ago

Text

If the Sun Starts Setting

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 7

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: Swearing, family drama, characters celebrating Christmas, mom with terminal illness, crying mentions

a/n: Sorry to post this so late everyone! I have had the WORST brain fog today. I hope you enjoy! As always, comments and reblogs fuel me!

After just one semester of law school, the drive between suburban Connecticut and the Columbia campus was one you were becoming well-acquainted with. It wasn’t unbearably long, nor flooded with traffic on a dark Sunday evening. Headlights of oncoming vehicles painted swatches of light against the navy sky, a semi-urban work of art unlike anything you’d enjoyed before. Usually, it was a sight you took the time to admire. However, this particular evening you were unable to focus on anything but the tinny voice bubbling out of your phone’s speaker.

Gritting your teeth and rolling your eyes to the heavens, you cursed the universe for a moment, tuning out the man on the other end of the line while you did so.

The sharp call of your name across the speakers regained your attention. ”Are you listening to me?“

Your father's inflection was grating on the best days. After three weeks spent waiting on him and your two ungrateful siblings while they preached about the importance of family during the holidays, you were ready to scream with every word he spat at you. The two hour drive back to campus was supposed to be the growing light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, you'd spent the last third of it arguing with your father about healthcare charges.

”Yes, I'm listening.“ ‘Unlike some of us’, you thought to yourself. ”As I said, that charge was for her brief hospital stay over Thanksgiving. I've already paid it and it might take a week or two to reflect—“

”This is a debt collection notice, hun. That means they didn't receive the payment yet. Which means they'll be coming after me when your mom inevitably cannot pay.“

Contemplating banging your head against your steering wheel just to remove the memory of this conversation, a flash of movement across the parking lot caught your eye. Expression softening, you almost sobbed in relief when you caught the two beaming expressions of your friends waving from the exterior door. Unfortunately, your father wasn't quite done arguing with you.

”Dad, I understand you don't want to be on the hook for this—“ ‘Not like you would be anyway.’

”I most certainly do not.“ He interrupted. Once again ignoring his rambling, you snatched your backpack and exited your car, slamming the door with a bit more force than usual.

”Dad, just forget about it, ok? I'll deal with it, just—“

”Well, clearly you won't deal with it in a timely fashion, which is why I'm calling...“ ‘Was he trying to kill you? It sure felt like it.’

”Ok, well I just got back to school so I need to go now.“ You tried to nudge him into polite farewells as you practically sprinted across the pavement towards your friends. As expected, he didn't take kindly to being rushed off the phone.

”Of course you do,“ He laughed incredulously. ”You know, this is your mother's livelihood we are discussing. It wouldn't kill you to be a bit more compassionate.“ ‘You're one to talk asshole.’

”You're right. I'll try to work on that this semester,“ You remarked drily. ”Gonna go inside now. Bye.“

Not bothering to listen to the screaming that answered your callous goodbye, you hung up, breaking into a strained smile as you greeted your boys. ”Why hello there, strangers.“

As if he didn't just witness you walk literally and figuratively closer to a breakdown, Foggy squealed, nearly taking you to the pavement in a tackling hug. “Welcome back, bug!”

“Christ, Fog, you're gonna crush her.” Matt laughed, hearing you grunt as you fumbled to stay upright with Foggy coiled around you like a boa constrictor.

“I missed you too, Fog.” You murmured, tears welling in your eyes at the sensation of being embraced.

You had missed them. Deeply and almost pathetically. After an entire semester at each other's sides, the few weeks in your hometown for Christmas had felt like an eternity.

After Matt and Foggy had been struck with the campus flu, the rest of the semester passed in a whirlwind. The two clingy boys had unsurprisingly infected you, meaning you were unfortunately sick for Thanksgiving and had to remain on campus to avoid passing the virus on to your immunosuppressed mother. Matt had been incredibly apologetic, and plagued with his typical Catholic guilt, so he'd stayed with you while Foggy returned to Hell's Kitchen for Turkey Day.

The next few weeks were spent cramming for finals and, eventually, celebrating the end of your first semester at Columbia—which you had all, amazingly, passed. Leaving for the lengthier winter break had been an abrupt end to the joy you felt over your grades, however.

You returned to New Haven a day earlier than expected to sit in the local hospital's oncology ward with your mother. While you were ill over Thanksgiving, she'd had a recurrence of stage 3 pancreatic cancer, which meant more frequent trips to see her doctor as well as numerous bills that neither of you could afford. Because of her declining health, your father and siblings had come to Connecticut for Christmas. The extra company meant that your holidays–which were meant to be a time for recuperation following a strenuous first semester–had been frustrating to the point of tears. Which, embarrassingly enough, Matt had been burdened with when you called him to complain.

The two of you called multiple times a week, exchanging stories and annoyances just like you did when you were living within a few blocks from each other. But it didn't stop you from missing him and Foggy fiercely for 24 excruciating days.

Swallowing a lump of pent up emotion, you huffed out a shaky exhale, your breath clouding in the frigid winter air. “Ok, Fog. You know I love you, but it's cold as fuck out here.”

“Right! Sorry.” Foggy withdrew from the embrace, blushing furiously as he scratched at the back of his neck.

Immediately replacing Foggy in front of you, Matt took a chance to hug you quickly before pulling you inside. “Glad you're finally here, I thought Nelson here was going to combust.”

Letting Matt usher you inside, you heard Foggy's baffled scoff. “Do I look like a patient man to you, Murdock?”

Matt smirked, “How would I know?”

You and Foggy both groaned loudly, looking to each other for support as Matt cackled. “C'mon, you set that one up perfectly. What's a guy to do?”

“You should've heard him over break, bug. He was driving my poor mother towards a stroke, I swear.” Foggy shook his head in feigned irritation.

“Oh please, she loved me.” Matt shoved his roommate, nearly bowling the three of you down the staircase as you trudged toward their room.

“I bet she did.” You snorted, “You probably dialed the charm up to 11.”

“Try 15.” Foggy remarked, unlocking the door and shoving it open.

Ignoring the jab, Matt held out a hand for your bag, allowing you to slip out of your coat and shoes.

“Who were you on the phone with?” His question was meant to open the can of worms in a structured way, rather than answer his own burning question. He’d bet dollars to donuts that it was–

“My father.” Came your fatigued response, confirming his suspicions. Your words were tinged with a bitterness that he’d expected, but they held a deeper upset thinly veiled by your exhaustion.

“Is everything ok?” Foggy asked quietly, his brow pinching with worry as he studied the bags under your eyes. The blond was less informed on the hell you’d been put through over the last month or so, only picking up bits and pieces if Matt relayed them.

With a groan, you collapsed unceremoniously onto Matt’s bed beside him, leaning heavily into him as one of his arms fell across your shoulders. “Of course, it’s just…it wasn’t the pleasant send off I was hoping for.”

Your pulse jumped when you spoke, steadying out as you reached the end of your sentence. Matt already knew that things weren’t “ok” with your mom or your home life in general, but he blinked in surprise to hear the disappointment that coated your words as you referenced your father’s curt goodbye. Making a note to bring that up when you seemed more inclined to be vulnerable, he rubbed a palm over your arm in a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish it had been better.”

Huffing a tiny laugh, you let your head fall against his shoulder. “Me too. How were your holidays?”

“Pleasant.” Matt murmured at the same time Foggy clapped his hands together.

“Fantastic! I forced Matt to watch all of the Star Wars movies with me and we ate our weight in cookies.” The long-haired boy explained with genuine enthusiasm. As he began to recount the escapades from the annual Nelson holiday party, your eyes flicked upwards to look at Matt, whose arm was still moving slowly across your shoulder and back as he caressed your sleeve. His eyes were trained forward, but a muscle in his jaw twitched as you focused on him, so you had a sneaking suspicion that neither of you were listening to Foggy’s story. You’d forgotten how well he could read you, until he gave you the option to pretend everything was fine with your dad.

He knew it wasn’t, and you did too. And maybe shoving that shit deep down and pretending it didn’t exist wasn’t a healthy way of handling it, but if you met Foggy’s worried gaze right now it would make you cry, which you were not prepared for. So, whether it was a wonderful coincidence or Matt could truly read you like a picture book, you were thankful for his deflection.

Smiling softly, you looked back to Foggy, listening to him talk about his drunk aunts fawning over Matt and feeling the thick tension bleed out of your shoulders.

Eventually, Foggy took a deep breath, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Woah, head rush!”

Matt chuckled, “You didn’t even stand up, buddy. You ok over there?”

“Yah, I’m fine! Just excited!” Foggy waved a hand, unfazed.

“And I can’t wait to hear about everything, Fog. But maybe we should take a break for presents?”

“Presents?” Foggy’s eyes widened along with his grin, his behavior as animated as a child’s at the mention of gifts. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

You laughed, prying yourself out of Matt’s secure grip and opening your bag. Tossing two wrapped bundles across the room and onto Foggy’s bed, you set the other two in Matt’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, my lovely Musketeers!” You giggled as Foggy mime-fenced toward you. As soon as the blond was finished beating you in the imaginary sword fight, he eagerly tore into the glittery wrapping paper. Next to you, Matt looked much more apprehensive about the packages in his lap.

“Go on, Matty. Open them!” You encouraged, bumping his shoulder with your own.

“But we don’t have anything for you,” Matt’s lips curled into a pout, looking like a sulking kitten as he trailed a single finger along the crisp edge of the parcel nearest to his hand.

You rolled your eyes fondly. The poor kid had a strong enough sense of justice for the whole campus. ”Matty, we're in college. And I'm the only one with a job. I didn't expect you to get me anything.“

”But—“ Matt argued, but you cut him off with a laugh.

”No more buts! I got these presents for you because I wanted to, not because I thought I’d receive something in return. Please open them?“ Though he couldn't see your face, you batted your lashes and widened your eyes, hoping he could sense the pleading expression.

With a frown, he nodded once, carefully peeling the tape from the paper as if the task required surgical precision. Grinding his teeth as the paper crinkled raucously, he slid the first gift out of its casing carefully, as if he was expecting it to shock him if he moved too quickly. Withdrawing a lump of the softest material he'd ever felt, he ran a thumb over it, trying to decipher what it was. The strip of wool was composed of thick braided stitches, promising to retain warmth in even the most bitter winter weather.

”A scarf?“ He asked, his lips pursed into a small, surprised oval. A rosy blush dusted the tops of his cheeks.

”Yes! I made one for you and one for Foggy. Except yours is a deep red and his is orange.” You spoke softly, smiling over to where the longer-haired boy was wrapping the length of yarn around his neck triumphantly.

“Our favorite colors.” Matt murmured, his fingers still tracing the fuzzy stitching. “You remembered?“

”Of course I did, trouble. That's important information. I'd be a fool to let it slip through the cracks.“ You hoped the joke would make him laugh, but he continued to stare blankly at the scarf as if it was an animal that had just died in his arms. ”If you don't like it, I can take it back, and donate it or something–“

”No!“ Matt looked up, horrified, clutching the scarf to his chest. ”No, I love it. I just...“

Turning his face back to his lap, he licked his lips before continuing. ”I've never gotten something like this before. I don't know what to say, is all.“

”No need to say anything, bub. I'm glad you like it.“ You rubbed your palm over his arm, mirroring his actions from just a moment ago.

Still focused on his own gifts, Foggy's excited screech startled both you and Matt. ”NO WAY!“

Turning to you with a dropped jaw, Foggy shook his head. ”There is no way you got this.“

”What is it, buddy?“ Matt asked, his lips curled into a soft smile as he heard Foggy open a hardcover book eagerly.

”A first edition of The Fellowship of the Ring!“ Foggy was practically giddy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he rifled through the pages. ”How did you even get this?“

Grinning at him, you giggled. ”My mom has a friend with an extensive book collection and asked where we could find one. Turns out, the friend had one of her own and was willing to part with it for next to nothing. Guess she owed my mom a favor.”

Diving across the room to crush you in another hug, Foggy kissed the top of your head. “Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!”

Laughing brightly, you struggled to shove your friend off of you. When he was this worked up, Foggy had the tenacity of an overexcited golden retriever. As usual, Matt helped release you from his clutches. ”You're welcome, Fog. I wanted to get you a nice copy since you lost the one you brought to school.”

“I'd say you accomplished that, my lovely jitterbug.” Foggy ruffled your hair, retreating to his bed and launching himself onto the mattress–the rusted springs creaking in protest.

Giggling at him, you turned back to Matt. “Alright, Murdock. Your turn, again. After this, I promise never to put you through this torture again. Until next year.”

Matt groaned in response, snatching the second gift with more vigor. “Let's get this over with.”

Approaching the gift with the same systematic tactic as the first, he slid the paper off of the box without a single tear. Setting the wrapping aside, he opened the cardboard package and pulled out his real gift.

“Ok so, I'm not sure how helpful these will be,” You warned, fidgeting with your hands as he ran his fingers along the band connecting the ear pieces. “But, they're, um, noise-canceling headphones?”

Matt's breath caught in his throat. He was overwhelmed with guilt and affection and surprise at the present, all words of gratitude pulled back down to his vocal chords as he focused solely on not bursting into tears.

Over the past few weeks, the Nelsons had been kind enough to invite him to stay and celebrate with them. He was flattered, and so thankful, but he wasn't used to so many...people. During a few of your phone calls over the break, he'd mentioned that the excessive stimuli, mainly noise, had been getting to him and giving him headaches. And rather than chastising him for being ungrateful, you'd listened and sympathized with him over the phone, ultimately buying him a solution to the issue with your own money.

Sure, there was no guarantee that these would work for his heightened senses, but you didn't know that. And the idea that you were willing to go to such immense lengths to ensure his comfort...it was evidence of a love he hadn't experienced in a decade.

“Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?” Your worried murmur broke his train of thought.

“No,” He choked out. ”No, they're perfect. So is the scarf. Thank you, bug.“

”Of course. Merry Christmas, Matt.“ You kissed his cheek gently and he felt a flush crawling up his neck. Wrapping an arm around you, he tucked you close to his chest, hand cradling the back of your neck.

”Merry Christmas, sweetheart.“

The two of you sat there in silence, holding each other close for a minute before your phone rang. Sighing deeply, you rested your head against Matt's shoulder as you fumbled for your phone. Thankfully, the screen displayed your mom's contact information, not your father.

“Sorry, trouble. I have to take this.“ You squeezed his arm, pulling out of his embrace and stretching as you stood. ”I'll be right back. Hopefully.“

Smiling at your near-groan, Matt jerked his chin towards the door. ”We'll be here.“

Slipping into the hallway, you lowered your voice. ”Hey mama, everything ok?“

”Hey baby, everything's fine, just had a couple questions for you about bills.“ Her sweet voice was strained and you could practically see her flicking her gaze to meet your father's, his metaphorical gun to her head as she made the call.

”Ok,“ You ground out, trying not to snap at her when she wasn't the reason you were frustrated. ”Um, what questions did you have?”

“You did pay the one from November?” She asked, predictably.

“I did. It'll reflect soon and Dad has nothing to worry about. The bill is attached to our names, not his. That's why Collections isn't writing to him.“ You explained as calmly as you could, knowing that she was aware of this already, but probably had you on speakerphone. ”Was that all?“

”Not exactly.“ Her tone shifted, pitching lower and sounding almost embarrassed. A crackle rippled over the line and suddenly your father's gruff voice replaced the one you adored.

“You need to come home next weekend to help your mom with the next round of billing. I've run out of time off and can no longer assist.” He commanded, the ‘compassion’ he held for her livelihood nowhere to be found.

‘Oh because you were so helpful this month when you were ordering us around.’ You griped internally. “What round of billing? The one from Thanksgiving–”

“Was four appointments ago. These things aren't free, you know. They’re wanting us to pay for them.”

Both you and your bank account were intimately familiar with the steep cost of her treatment. Inhaling deeply, you paced a few steps from Matt and Foggy's room. “I know they aren't free. We signed her up for a payment plan two weeks ago that offers a deferral–”

“She was denied.” His laconic answer made your spirits plummet as time came to a halt. Your pounding heart froze in place, dread creeping up your spine.

“What?” On the off chance that he was being unintentionally misleading, you needed to clarify.

Your mother's apologetic voice came over the line once again. ”I wasn't accepted into the financial assistance program, baby. But, it's ok! I can pick up more shifts–“

”No!” You exclaimed, the shrill edge of your cry echoing down the hallway. You tried again, digging your nails into the flesh of your palm as you fought to keep your voice steady.

“Don't...you don't need to do that mama. I don't want you to overwork yourself. I'll come home on Friday and we can talk about options, ok?“ You bargained, running through your work schedule in your head to create a plan.

”Are you sure, honey? Won't you be busy getting a head start on the semester?“

Blinking back tears at her obvious care for you, you cleared your throat before answering. “It’s alright, mama. It’s just syllabus week, I’m sure I’ll have time to come home and sort things out.”

“She’ll make time.” Your father’s promise was more for your mom than you, but it felt like a swift kick to the gut all the same.

Because you would make time. You had to. No one else would. You were your mom’s last line of defense. Prioritizing yourself and failing to be there for her wasn’t an option you had. The emotional burden you were carrying felt impossibly heavy, as if there was a line of anvils across your shoulders and chest, slowly forcing the oxygen out of your lungs until you perished.

“Of course I will. I’ll see you this weekend, mama. Love you.” You choked out, slapping a palm over your mouth before you broke.

“I love you too, baby. Have a good week at school!” You could picture her tired smile as she wished you a proper goodbye, the image cracking your composure.

You hung up before the first tear rolled down your cheek. Dropping your face into your hands, you bit your lip to stifle a sob, letting the tears flow silently instead. Falling back against the wall behind you, you let your legs give out as you collapsed to the disgusting dorm hallway carpet.

The blood rushing in your ears drowned out the noises drifting through the thin walls, an urge to scream churned in your chest. Ugly, rage filled sobs were barreling up your throat, desperately trying to claw their way out, to make your pain known. Hunching over your knees in a pitiful crouch, you shielded your face with your arms, preventing any passersby from seeing your much-needed meltdown.

Choking out a breath around another half-smothered sob, you nearly screamed when a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Looking up frantically, the outburst downgraded to a strangled whine when you saw Matt’s furrowed brow directed at you.

Wordlessly, he sank down beside you, opening his arms with a frown. Throwing yourself into his embrace, you couldn’t help the hideous sounds that escaped you as he enveloped you in his muscular arms with ease. Tucking your head under his chin, you shook violently against his chest as you bawled.

“I can’t do this, Matt. I can’t–” You gasped out, your breath stuttering as you wept forcefully into his shoulder.

Shushing you gently, he rubbed circles into your back with his large hand.

Whimpering at the touch, you wiped at your tear-streaked face furiously. “”I’m barely an adult. How am I supposed to do this?” Your voice shattered around the words, throat constricting with anguish.

“I don’t know,” Matt cooed, stroking a fresh pair of tears away from your skin with his thumbs. “But I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’ll get through it together.”

Burying your face into his neck miserably, you shuddered with distaste. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask.” He whispered gravely, pressing a kiss to your crown.

With that promise, your brain seemed to shut off. Your tears gradually slowed to a halt, leaving you dazed and exhausted in Matt’s lap. Heaving out a shaky exhale, you closed your eyes, letting his soft touches wash over you like the tides. Kissing your forehead tenderly, Matt cupped your cheek.

“Why don’t we go sit somewhere softer than this shitty floor, hmm?” His small question was meant to make you laugh, but your fatigue had chased away every other emotion.

Nodding softly, you let Matt pull you from the ground and back into his room, welcoming the darkness after the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway. Sliding off his glasses and placing them on his nightstand, he guided you to Foggy’s bed. The blond frowned at you, setting his book aside.

“You ok, bug?” He asked, sitting up to inspect your puffy eyes.

Shaking your head tiredly, you crawled onto his mattress and let him wrap you in a hug. Matt, with an impressive amount of agility, somehow leapt onto the bed behind you, snaking his arms around your middle so that you were sandwiched between him and his roommate. You listened to their steady breathing, letting the sound lull you into a more peaceful state of mind.

Tangling his fingers with yours, Matt’s lips scratched over the back of your head. “Fog, think you could read some of your book for us?”

“Uh, yah totally.” Foggy pouted, gaze still lingering on your drained face. “Let me just find my page.”

The combination of your worn-out consciousness and the comforting presence of your two best friends was dangerous. Your eyes fluttered shut and you could feel yourself drifting off.

As if reading your thoughts, Matt kissed your hair. “Go on, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

Squeezing his fingers, you stopped fighting the darkness pulling at the edges of your vision, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind

Please tell me if these tags aren't working for you all because Tumblr has been acting up :/

72 notes · View notes