#i just need to find something else first (hell)

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter ten ♡

Summary: You open the door to Joel, preparing yourself to hear what he has to say. WC: 9.9k A/N: Helloooooo! Wishing you all happy holidays! I hope your holiday season was wonderful, and that you enjoy reading this part. Be patient <3 I def enjoyed writing it lol Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications! love u all

“I... I know you probably don't wanna see me,” he said, his voice low, almost strained, his eyes dark and heavy with something blue, looking at you with controlled desperation. “But I... I... can we talk? Please?”

Your eyes blinked rapidly, lashes brushing against your skin in quick, involuntary flutters. Joel caught the movement immediately. Of course he did. He noticed everything about you, even now, even after everything. It was obvious he had startled you, but whether that made him feel vindicated or more like an intruder, he couldn’t tell.

The week had been hell. He had been hell. Work was relentless, a grind of demands and decisions that seemed designed to erode what little patience he had left. Coming home wasn’t much better—Sarah’s teenage tolerance for him was wearing thin, and he knew it. Her exasperated sighs, her eyerolls, the way she barely looked up when he walked in the door.

The last time you’d spoken, your voice had been steady, measured, almost clinical, which somehow made it worse. “I think you should go,” you’d said, calm and certain, slicing through the rising heat of his anger like a blade. “I just... I just need some time.”

Anger had only been the surface. Underneath, he was wrecked. Broken in a way that felt unfamiliar, even compared to the times he thought he’d been hurt before. While you spoke, his mind had fixated on Travis—his stupid smirking face, the condescending edge to his voice. It was all Joel could see, all he could hear, drowning out everything else.

He’d slammed the door of his house that day and told himself he was done. He wasn’t going to call, wasn’t going to show up, wasn’t going to see you again. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He told himself he was done. Done with you, done with all of it.

You won’t see her again. You don’t want to see her again. The resolve felt like armor at first, solid and impenetrable. But later, as he sat in the dark of his room, it hollowed out, echoing back every memory of you he couldn’t seem to let go of.

And now here he was, standing in front of you, stripped of any armor he thought he had. He told himself he looked calm, his posture straight, his face neutral. But his hands betrayed him, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, his fingers curling and uncurling like they didn’t know what else to do.

“Joel,” you said finally, and it wasn’t anger in your voice. He heard that right away, though what it was instead, he couldn’t quite name. “Need somethin'?”

The coldness of your tone startled him more than he wanted to admit. Not anger. Indifference. He recognized it only because it was unfamiliar coming from you.

“Yeah,” he said, too quickly, the word tumbling out before he had time to second-guess it. “Yes. I... I need to talk to you. Please, can we talk?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Your question was measured, but it wasn’t an invitation. He felt his lips twitch into an awkward half-smile, the kind you used to find endearing in its clumsiness. Now it only seemed to widen the space between you. You both knew the answer; you were just making him say it.

“About everything,” he said, stepping closer without thinking. The movement was automatic, but the way you took a step back wasn’t. It hit him like a sudden ache, sharp and lingering. “My birthday. What happened after. Travis. Everything I said to you, everything I did.”

“I don’t wanna fight, Joel.”

“Neither do I,” he said quickly, his voice soft. “I ain't here to fight. I swear. Please, just... give me a minute. If you don’t wanna hear me after this, I’ll—” He hesitated, his throat tight. “I’ll respect that.”

Your head tilted slightly, a small, almost imperceptible motion. “You’ll leave me alone?”

The words landed hard. He felt it, like a stone dropping into his chest.

“If that’s what you want,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, his gaze locked on yours. “If that’s what you really want, then yeah. I’ll leave you alone.”

You shifted to the side, a subtle movement that opened a narrow space between your body and the doorframe. Joel hesitated for just a moment before stepping through, his eyes flicking to your face as his arm brushed lightly against yours. The contact was fleeting, accidental, but it sent a strange charge through him that he couldn’t quite ignore.

As he walked past, he inhaled deeply, letting the scent of your home wash over him. It was grounding, like stepping into a memory he hadn’t realized he was carrying. The air was thick with the comforting notes he associated with you—freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint, clean sweetness of the textile spray you spritzed religiously on the couch cushions. Beneath that lingered the softer, subtler scents: the warm floral of your fabric softener, the trace of your favorite perfume still clinging to your skin, and something else he couldn’t quite name but had always recognized as distinctly you.

It was the same scent that used to cling to his shirt after one of your hugs, when his nose would inevitably dip into the curve of your neck without thinking. The thought of it now hit him like a whisper of nostalgia, equal parts tender and bittersweet.

Joel’s gaze swept the living room as he entered, and he paused, taking in the familiar organized chaos. Two mugs, each half-full, sat abandoned on the coffee table. Next to them lay the crinkled remnants of half-finished snacks. Soft blankets were strewn across the couch, their folds still marked with the shapes of bodies that had recently lounged there. Two candles flickered on the mantel, filling the air with the warm, tropical scent of coconut and vanilla. On the floor, two pairs of slippers rested haphazardly, as if their owners had kicked them off mid-laughter.

The first pair was purple, dotted with little blue hearts—Cassie’s, he assumed. The other pair he recognized instantly. The white pom-pom slippers, soft and well-loved, and he could still picture the Christmas he’d given them to you. You’d hurt your foot a week earlier, and he’d insisted you needed something sturdy to wear around the house. At the time, you’d rolled your eyes at the practicality of the gift but had smiled when you slipped them on anyway. After that, he gave you his other gift: the complete box set of Nightmare on Elm Street. 

Now, seeing them here, Joel felt a tightness in his chest, a painful warmth that spread through him as he took in the scene. This mess, this lived-in disarray, was evidence of you. Evidence of life. And he missed it.

For weeks now, his own home had been the opposite—too quiet, too clean. No lingering smells of scented candles, no forgotten mugs on the table. Sarah had been retreating to her room more and more, and the spaces she used to fill with her presence now felt hollow. The house smelled of little more than coffee, and the silence stretched long and thin, oppressive in its stillness.

“Have a seat,” you said, your voice cutting through his thoughts. “Want some coffee? Cassie made a pot before she left.”

Joel didn’t want a tidy house. He didn’t want a quiet living room. He didn’t want the emptiness that had taken root in his home.

He wanted noise. He wanted laughter echoing through the halls, the kind that erupted out of nowhere and carried long after the joke had ended. He wanted his living room cluttered with the evidence of conversations and evenings spent together. He wanted his house to smell like candles, fresh bread from the oven—burnt edges and all—and your perfume lingering in the air. He wanted the warmth of Sarah and Tommy and you, all of you there together, filling the house with life again.

“Sure,” he replied, watching as you moved past him toward the kitchen. His eyes followed the curve of your shoulder, the way the light caught in your hair, until you disappeared through the door.

He sat down on the couch, his hands resting on his thighs as his gaze landed on the coffee table. A book lay there, its spine tilted just enough for him to read the title: Jane Eyre. His fingers reached for it instinctively, brushing over the cover as memories flickered to life. Two years ago, you had insisted he watch the movie with you. He’d been indifferent at first, grumbling about how slow it was, but by the end, he’d found himself blinking furiously, swiping at the tears that kept slipping past his guard. You and Sarah hadn’t let him live it down, teasing him gently once the lights came back on.

A quiet laugh nearly escaped him at the memory, but it faded as you reappeared, two mugs balanced carefully in your hands. You set them down on the table and took the seat across from him.

Joel reached for his mug immediately, grateful for something to do with his hands. He lifted it to his lips, the warmth spreading through his palms as he took a sip. The coffee was strong and slightly sweet, the taste familiar and comforting. But as he lowered the cup, he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting back to you, watching as you settled in place.

You sat next to him, the cushion between you a quiet, unspoken boundary neither of you seemed willing to cross. Your arms rested on your lap, fingers absently tracing patterns on your knee, while your eyes fixed on him—watching, waiting. He wasn’t looking at you, not yet. His gaze was locked on the mug in his hands, the coffee inside long forgotten, as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to this conversation.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable and taut, until finally, he broke it.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what to say to you,” he began, his voice steady but low. He didn’t look up, still focused on the mug. “How to say it, what order to put it in so I wouldn’t just… trip over myself and make it worse.”

You said nothing, your eyes trailing across his profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows.

“And even after all that thinkin', there doesn’t seem to be an ideal way to do this,” he continued, his fingers tightening around the ceramic. “But I think… I think the first thing I gotta say is that I’m sorry.” He paused, swallowed, then lifted his eyes to yours. They were heavy with something raw. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze, refusing to give him an inch.

“What’s everything?”

You already knew. Of course, you knew. But you needed him to say it, needed to hear the words from his mouth.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “For not being enough. For not living up to what you needed. For being a coward.” His voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on. “I’ve been afraid—terrified, actually—and I hate myself for it.”

Your tone was sharper than you intended. “Afraid of what?”

“Of making a mistake. Of ruining things.” His gaze dropped back to his hands, his lower lip trembling in a way that made something inside you twist painfully.

“You already ruined things, Joel. You already blew it.”

At that, he looked up, his face pale, his expression something close to stricken.

“I know,” he admitted, the words barely above a whisper. “I know I did. But… I was hurt.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You were hurt?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rising just a touch, a hint of frustration there. “Last time we talked, at my place, we said things… things that stuck in my head and twisted ‘round ‘til I couldn’t think straight. And then Travis—he blindsided me. He said things I wasn’t ready to hear, and before I knew it, I was just… angry. Angry and too stubborn to think if any of it even made sense.”

“You could have asked me about it,” you said, leaning forward slightly, your voice tight with restrained anger. “It would have been that simple. All you had to do was ask.”

Joel shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.

“You say it like it’s easy. Like it’s that black and white. But it wasn’t. I couldn’t think straight. My head was full of these awful, painful thoughts, and I didn’t know if I could face the answer. I didn’t know if I wanted to face it. What if you told me it was true?”

“What if I told you it was true?” you repeated, incredulous, your voice sharp enough to make him flinch. “Joel, it’s me. Not some stranger off the street. It’s me. Why is it so fucking hard for you to talk to me?”

“'Cause it’s you!” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he finally set the mug down, turning fully toward you. “You’re not just anyone, don’t you get that? You’ve never been just anyone. You’re you, and that’s why it scared me so much. That’s why it’s always scared me.”

You stared at him, your hand brushing against your neck as you tried to process his words.

“What does that even mean?” you asked, your voice quiet but loaded with frustration. “I’m me, but you treat me like I’m a stranger. You accuse me of things I would never do. How does that make sense?”

“It doesn't make sense, I know,” he said, his voice soft now, filled with remorse. “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have—”

You cut him off, leaning closer, your tone sharp and unforgiving.

“I talked to Travis, Joel. He told me everything. He told me what he said to you—that he implied we’d slept together that night.” Your voice faltered for a moment, but you steadied it. “And it was a lie. He lied to you. And you didn’t even stop to think. You didn’t come to me. You just believed him.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice a little stronger this time, though his eyes dropped to the floor. “I know it was a lie. I know that now.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “How?”

He met your eyes, and for the first time that evening, there was something solid in his expression, something that felt like conviction.

“Travis confessed to me. Earlier today.”

You blinked, stunned, the words hitting you like a physical blow.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you talking about?”

“He came to my house this morning.” He paused, glancing at his hands like they might steady him. “When I saw him, I wanted to beat him to a pulp. I thought about it—what it’d feel like, what it’d fix. But he looked… pathetic. Like a wet dog. And I don’t know why, but I listened to him.” He exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into a fist on his thigh. “He confessed everything. Said it was all a lie. That he was angry that night, that he wanted to hurt me, hurt you, us. And that he was sorry.”

That morning, before Joel had even finished his first cup of coffee, the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone, least of all Travis, who stood on the porch looking like he’d rehearsed this moment a dozen times but still wasn’t ready. There was a tension to his posture—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders squared but uneven, like he couldn’t decide between defiance and regret.

Joel opened the door without a word, his eyes narrowing slightly, the kind of look that made most people hesitate. But Travis didn’t flinch. He cleared his throat, glanced briefly over Joel’s shoulder as though confirming they were alone, and began. His confession was brief but clear.

Joel stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his silence heavy and deliberate. Anger started to build in him, slow and deliberate, like water simmering in a pot. If he’d been alone, he might’ve said something sharp or done something rash—just enough to make Travis rethink ever stepping foot here again. But Sarah was at the dining table, half-hidden behind a glass of orange juice, listening to every word. It was too early in the day for things to escalate, and besides, Joel knew better.

“I don’t know you, Joel,” he said, voice low but firm. He kept his gaze on Joel, unblinking, but his body angled slightly away, as if ready to retreat if things got ugly. “And I don’t claim to know the whole story between you two. Don’t know all the details, don’t pretend to.” He exhaled sharply, a trace of frustration slipping through. “But I know enough to say this—she doesn’t deserve what you’ve done to her. Not a damn bit of it.”

Joel’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening, but he stayed silent, his arms crossed in front of him like a barrier.

Travis shifted again, this time squaring his shoulders, his voice growing firmer.

“Whether you deserve her or not... that ain’t my call to make.” He shook his head, almost as if he pitied Joel. “But, just be enough. Stop lookin’ for ways to screw it up. Fix it. Make it right.”

The last words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. Travis glanced back at Joel one final time before stepping off the porch, his body already half-turned away, as if to signal the conversation was over.

Joel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He stayed there, rooted to the spot, as Travis turned and walked away without looking back. When the door finally closed, Joel exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair before heading back to the kitchen.

Sarah was seated at the table, her cereal soggy in its bowl, her chin propped up on one hand as she watched him. Her expression was impossible to read at first—calm, maybe even detached—but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes, the kind that always made Joel brace himself.

He dropped into the chair across from her, rubbing a hand across his face.

“So,” she began, her voice light but measured, “are you gonna tell me what that was about, or should I start guessing? Because I can go wild with it if you want.”

Joel looked at her, his mouth twitching into the beginnings of a smile despite himself. “You don’t need to guess anything, Sarah. Eat your breakfast.”

She raised an eyebrow, letting the silence hang for a beat. Then she switched tactics.

"You have the afternoon off today, don't you?”

"Yeah."

“Can I spend the afternoon with Irina?” she asked then, her tone casual, like the question had been waiting for its moment to pounce. 

Joel eyed her suspiciously, leaning back in his chair. “Why do I get the feeling this is part of a larger plan?”

“Because it is,” Sarah said brightly, sitting up straighter. “But also because you’re smart, and I’m obviously your favorite child, so you’re always on high alert.”

Joel snorted. “You’re my only child.”

“Exactly,” she said, pointing at him with her spoon. “See how much you have to lose if you say no?”

“Fine,” Joel said, shaking his head. “But be home for dinner.”

“Can I stay over?” she asked immediately, her tone hopeful but strategic, like she was carefully laying pieces on a chessboard.

“Sarah—”

“Tomorrow’s saturday,” she interrupted, grinning now. “And besides, you could use some alone time. Don’t you think? You know, kick back, put your feet up, maybe even watch a movie. Something fun, preferably. You’ve been way too broody lately—it’s not good for your skin.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “My skin is fine, thank you very much.”

“I’m just saying,” she said, widening her eyes for emphasis. “Take a self-care moment. Relax. Settle your affairs. And let’s be honest—at some point, you’re gonna have to get used to me bein’ gone. In a few years, I’ll be outta the house anyway. Might as well start now.”

Joel chuckled low in his chest, shaking his head. “You’re thirteen, sweetheart. You’re not leavin’ anytime soon.”

“Thirteen and a half,” she corrected. “Which means I’m practically halfway to twenty. Time flies, man. Better get used to it.”

He shook his head, a smile breaking through despite his best efforts.

Joel shook his head, letting out a quiet chuckle.  “ Come back for dinner,” he said firmly. “And finish your breakfast, smartass. We’re running late.”

Relief fluttered through you, but it didn’t stay long enough to root itself. Instead, anger rose, sharp and unyielding, burning through your chest like fire.  

“So that’s why you’re here,” you said, your voice cutting through the air between you. “Because Travis decided to clear his conscience? What if he hadn’t? What then, Joel? Would you have hated me for the rest of your life without even asking me about it?”  

“No,” he said quickly, his posture straightening as if bracing for impact. “Of course not. I wanted to come and talk to you before—”  

“How can I be sure of that?” you interrupted, leaning forward slightly, your voice cold and unwavering.  

His face shifted, his desperation barely masked. His eyes moved over your features, searching for something—an opening, a shred of forgiveness, anything to grasp onto. It was the look of someone teetering on the edge of losing what mattered most. And seeing him like that, so vulnerable and raw, sent a sharp pang through your chest.  

But you didn’t move. You didn’t let him off that easily.  

Joel sighed heavily, the sound thick with frustration and resignation. He looked back down at his hands, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of the conversation was pressing him into the couch. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. You watched him wrestle with his thoughts, his jaw tightening and loosening, his fingers twitching slightly.  

Finally, he opened his mouth, but no words came. He shut it again, his brow furrowing, his expression pained. He looked like he was trying to pull something out of himself that refused to surface. Then, with a deep breath, he ran a hand over his forehead, his fingers brushing through his hair before he finally lifted his gaze to meet yours again.  

His cheeks were flushed, the color spreading to his neck, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter but startlingly clear.  

“You could do the worst atrocities in the world to me, and I’d still come crawling back to you,” he said, his words landing heavily in the space between you.  

You blinked, stunned, your anger momentarily eclipsed by his confession.  

“I’d take it all,” he continued, his voice steady despite the emotion rippling just beneath the surface. “Every insult, every blow. At first, I’d probably bark back—like some angry dog—but it wouldn’t matter. I’d still come back to you. Over and over again. Until you decided I wasn’t worth the effort anymore. And even then…” His voice faltered slightly, his eyes darkening as he leaned closer to you. “Even then, I’d wait. I’d wait for you like some stupid, loyal, domesticated animal.”  

His hand fell lightly onto your knee, the weight of it grounding and electric all at once. His face was closer now, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.  

You stared at him, speechless, his words circling in your mind, unfamiliar and disarming. You had never heard him talk like this before, never heard him articulate his feelings with such painful honesty.  

Confusion flickered across your face, your brows knitting together as you tried to process what he’d said. But before you could respond, Joel pulled his hand back, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he was reluctant to let go.  

He sat back, his hand running along his jawline, his thumb brushing against his stubble in an attempt to soothe himself. His eyes shifted away from you, staring somewhere into the distance as he collected himself.  

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant, but still carrying the weight of everything he hadn’t said yet. His eyes stayed fixed on some invisible point in front of him, his expression thoughtful and distant.  

“I’m a lucky man,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching in a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Though for a long time, I thought life had it out for me.”  

The confession lingered in the room for a moment before he continued, his voice lower now, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.  

“When I was a teenager, I had all these goals, y'know? Dreams that seemed so big and endless back then. And then every single one of 'em became impossible the moment Amelia told me she was pregnant.” He laughed softly, though it wasn’t a happy sound. It carried the weight of years gone by, of opportunities lost. “It took me a while to make peace with that. To accept that everything I thought my life would be was just… gone. My responsibilities changed overnight, and I wasn’t ready. Not even close.”  

You stayed quiet, your gaze fixed on him as he spoke, unwilling to break the flow of his words.  

“It was hard,” he admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture of discomfort. “Harder than I could’ve imagined. But then Sarah was born.” His voice softened when he said her name, a reverence in the way he spoke of her. “And everything changed. Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore—not the dreams I lost, not the plans I’d made. Because I had her. She was all I needed to be happy, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.”  

There was a pause, a stillness that filled the space as he collected his thoughts. His hands, resting on his knees, clasped together tightly, his knuckles turning white.  

“And then Amelia left,” he said, his voice dropping lower, his jaw tightening as though the memory itself was still too sharp. “When she walked away, I thought I wouldn’t survive it. I wanted to die. The only thing that kept me going was Sarah. She was my strength, my reason to keep breathing. And Tommy,” he added with a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “even if he gave me more headaches than I could count.”  

His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Those years were… suffocating. I was drowning, trying to stay afloat for Sarah’s sake. I worked every hour I could, even when it wasn’t enough. And I tried so damn hard to keep her from noticing. She was just a baby, too little to understand, but I noticed. I noticed every empty space, every moment we didn’t have what we should’ve.”  

Joel paused, his fingers fiddling with an invisible thread on his jeans, his voice turning steadier as he continued.  

“Everything I did was for her,” he said, his tone resolute. “Everything I still do is for her. I didn’t care if I wore the same worn-out shoes for years, as long as she had everything she needed. I didn’t care about working overtime, as long as she had a good christmas, with all the things she’d ever dreamed of.”  

A soft smile crept onto his face, faint but genuine. “And then things got better. I started making more money. I was able to move us into a nicer place, give her her own room with everything she wanted—books, toys, a million stuffed animals. Seeing her happy was all I needed. Nothing else mattered. My own dreams, my own goals—they didn’t even exist anymore. I didn’t have room for them. All I cared about was her.”  

He exhaled shakily, his hands now clenched together, his shoulders slightly hunched as if carrying a weight he hadn’t quite managed to set down.  

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. His words settled into you, heavy and aching. Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. You knew Joel was a good father—better than most. But hearing him lay it bare like this, recounting the sacrifices he made and the pain he endured, broke something inside you.  

He looked down, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“I had no desires of my own,” he admitted, his words halting, “until I met you.”  

Your breath hitched at his confession, your gaze dropping to your hands, folded tightly in your lap.  

Joel shifted in his seat, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours. He was waiting, searching your face for a reaction. When you finally looked up, your vision blurred, a single tear slipping down your cheek.  

“And then you moved in next to me,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And I became the luckiest man in the world. Because that night, on your birthday, I saw it. I felt it, clear as day, in your eyes.” His voice wavered slightly. “Did you feel it too?”  

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”  

Joel’s gaze flickered between yours, searching, probing for even the faintest shadow of doubt. But he found none. Your answer had left no room for uncertainty, and the truth of it settled visibly in his chest. For a moment, his eyes dropped to his hands, fidgeting restlessly in his lap. The reprieve was brief; his gaze snapped back to yours almost immediately, as if afraid to lose the fragile connection.  

“You took me completely by surprise,” he began, his voice low and unsteady. “I had this quiet, organized life. Everything was in its place, everything predictable. And then you came along, and suddenly I was thinking about futures I’d never allowed myself to imagine before. Futures where my purpose wasn’t just being a dad, where there was… more.”

His lips pressed together, and he glanced past your shoulder, unable to hold your gaze for long under the weight of his admission. “I tried to act on it. I wanted to. I told myself I’d tell you how I felt, ask you out properly, but I was terrified. You were such an easy part of our lives, mine and Sarah’s, that the idea of risking that, of losing you…” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as though frustrated with himself. “I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t.”  

His eyes returned to you, a mixture of resignation and determination clouding their depths. “So I swallowed it all. All these years, I’ve done everything I could to be the friend you deserved. To not let my feelings interfere. But if I’m being honest…” He paused, his jaw tightening as though bracing for impact. “I’d take anything from you. I’d come back to you every fucking time, no matter what. Because the thought of living without you—” He stopped abruptly, his voice catching in his throat.  

Joel exhaled sharply, attempting to recover, and then a faint, self-deprecating humor colored his expression.

“I know how pathetic I sound right now,” he said, his voice lighter but no less sincere. “I don’t care.”  

“Yeah, Joel, that’s pretty damn pathetic,” you replied, your lips curving into a soft, fleeting smile. There wasn’t much humor in it, but it was enough to ease some of the tension between you.  

Joel chuckled faintly, shaking his head as though chastising himself. He glanced down at the floor, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“I know,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I’ve been feeling pretty pathetic lately.”  

“Me too,” you admitted quietly, your voice tinged with an exhaustion that mirrored his.  

Silence stretched between you, not awkward but weighted. Joel’s hands stilled, resting loosely against his knees, though you could tell he was still grappling with everything he’d laid bare. You studied him in that moment—every slight movement, every shift in his expression—trying to parse the tangle of thoughts in your own mind.  

For Joel, the quiet was a reminder of how vulnerable he’d been. He could feel a knot tightening in his stomach, a lump rising in his throat that he fought to suppress. The fear of baring himself so fully gnawed at him, but it didn’t terrify him as much as losing you did.  

“I don’t regret that night,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, though his eyes remained fixed on the floor. “But I hate how it happened. I hate that our first night together came out of a fight. A fight where I was…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Terrible to you. That’s not how it should have been.”  

“Oh, God. Stop that,” you cut in sharply, your tone carrying the faintest edge of irritation. You leaned forward, placing your hand firmly on his knee. “I’m tired of hearing you say the same thing over and over. Things are the way they are. Nothing more.”  

His head snapped toward you, his brows knitting together in confusion and disbelief. His lips parted, as if he wanted to argue, but no words came immediately.  

“I get it, okay?” he said eventually, his voice quieter but no less intense. “But I fucking blew it. Look where we are now. Years of keeping my feelings bottled up—for what?”  

You shook your head and pulled your hand away from his knee, covering your face as frustration bubbled to the surface. Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your cheeks felt hot, and bitterness churned in your chest.

“Why are you so uncomfortable with the idea of being more than my friend?” you asked, your voice trembling, broken and laced with helplessness. “If we had never argued, we never would have slept together, and then what? You would have spent your whole life being just that—my friend?”

Joel’s face contorted, a mix of anguish and confusion. “It’s not that, I... I...” He faltered, his words tumbling over themselves as his gaze flickered between his hands and your face, desperate to find the right thing to say. “Relationships are complicated, you know that. No matter how hard you try, sometimes things just... break. Feelings get messy, people hurt each other, and then it’s over. And after that? You’re left with the wreckage, picking up the pieces, trying to put them back together, and... starting over. And I want to be wi—”

“I’m not Amelia!”

Your voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and unrelenting. Joel froze. His body went still, his eyes wide as he watched you rise from your seat, your palms pressing against your face to catch the tears that spilled freely now. A sob broke through your chest, raw and guttural, shaking your whole body.

Joel stood abruptly, closing the space between you with long, purposeful strides. He reached out, his large hands settling gently on your shoulders, trying to ground you, to pull you closer to him. But you resisted, your body tense and unyielding beneath his touch.

You dragged your hands down from your face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and an expression so pained that Joel felt an ache bloom in his chest. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, as he took in the sight of you.

“Why do you have to make everything harder?” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of desperation. Your words fell between you, sharp and piercing. “I know what happened to you was horrible, Joel. I know. I can’t imagine how alone you must have felt. It hurts—God, it hurts—to think of you going through that. I wish I could go back in time and change it, spare you all that suffering, but I can’t.”

Your voice broke again, and you shook your head, gripping his arms tightly as if trying to anchor yourself. “I can’t change it, and neither can you.”

“I know, baby,” Joel said softly, his voice almost breaking. “I don’t—”

“No!” you interrupted, your hands squeezing his arms harder. “You know nothing! You don’t listen to me. You’re scared—this, us, it terrifies you because it makes you feel weak and vulnerable, and you hate that. I know you do, because I know you. I know you like the back of my hand, just like I know myself."

Your voice rose, thick with emotion, trembling but unwavering. “You’ve spent years building everything you have, brick by brick, because you know how fragile it all is. You know how quickly it can fall apart. And yes, it’s true—that’s life. That’s how it works.”

Joel tried to interrupt, but you pressed on, your words pouring out like a dam had broken. “But I’m not Amelia, Joel. I’m not going to leave when things get hard. I’m not going to disappear. Just look at me—look at me right now. This has been hell since your birthday, absolute hell, and yet I’m still here. I’m standing in front of you, listening to you, when maybe—probably—you don’t even fucking deserve it.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and his hands slipped from your shoulders to your elbows, holding onto you as if afraid you might disappear. His eyes glistened, his lips slightly parted as he took in your words. For a moment, the room was silent except for the uneven sounds of your breathing.

“I know,��� Joel said abruptly, his words choking out in a way that made his chest tighten, like he was barely able to get them out at all. “I’ve been a coward all this time, but—”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me the same thing again,” you cut him off, shaking your head in frustration, taking a small step back, your space suddenly feeling more necessary than ever. “Yeah, real—”

“Can you stop interrupting me and just listen?” he snapped, his voice sharp, the calm restraint in it fraying just a little as he stepped closer, his hands landing gently on your shoulders, grounding himself in the movement.

He stared down at your feet, his gaze lingering there, not meeting your eyes, the words heavy in the space between you. In that moment, he felt desperate, like the situation was slipping through his fingers again, but somehow, there was a strange sense of vulnerability in his posture, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go but forward.

His hands fell away from your shoulders, but he didn’t move, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours, his gaze unwavering and intense. It felt like there were a thousand unsaid things in the air, and still, he said nothing for a long beat, his mouth opening, then closing again as if he couldn’t quite gather the words.

“Everything you said is true,” he started, his voice quieter now, but carrying a weight in it that felt both final and irreversible. “And everything I told you is true. And I don’t care, not anymore. I’m done with it.” He moved his hand across the space between you, as though trying to sweep away the past, drawing an invisible line through the tension that had hung over both of you for too long.

You let out a slow breath, the question hanging in the air before you could voice it. “And what does that even mean?”

“It means that I want you, that I love you,” Joel started, his voice breaking slightly on the words, the confession so raw it felt like it was tearing him open from the inside. “That I need you. That I can’t… I can't help but resent a life without you.” He took a shuddering breath, his eyes burning, not quite able to meet yours. “I always thought I was fine on my own. I’ve been alone most of my life, you know that. I never needed anyone. I never thought I was missing anything, never felt incomplete. I felt perfectly fine alone.” He swallowed hard, his throat tight. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, were now trembling, fingers curling and uncurling as if trying to hold onto something, anything, to keep himself from shattering.  

“And then I met you,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid to say the words aloud. “And I realized how empty I’d been. How much I’d been missing. How full I felt when I was with you.” He paused, his face contorting as if the weight of his own words was too much to carry. “And then I screwed up. I messed it all up.” His hands balled into fists at his sides. “And no, I’m not that cold. I’m not some heartless bastard. I need you. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything. And I can’t—” He stopped, his breath catching in his throat, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven gasps as he struggled to control the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.  

His eyes closed for a moment, as though he could hide from the truth for just a second longer, but when they opened again, they were full of something that felt like desperation. “I can’t live another day knowing you’re just next door, and you’re uncomfortable because of what I did. Because of what I let happen. Because of how I failed you.” His voice cracked on the last word, and it was like a knife to your chest, hearing the hurt in him, seeing how much it was tearing him apart to even say it.  

“I know I probably don't deserve you,” he whispered, each word like a burden he couldn’t bear. “I know that. And if you decide not to choose me, I’ll understand. I’ll walk away. I’ll stay away. I promise you, I won’t bother you again. But if you… if you just let me, one last time...” He faltered, his voice breaking as he looked at you, his eyes dark with pain and regret. “If you let me prove to you, show you, how much I love you... the way you deserve to be loved, if you let me do it for the first time...” He shook his head, his voice catching again, barely a whisper now. “I promise I’ll never disappoint you again. I swear it.”  

There was nothing left in his voice now but the ragged edges of a man who had bled himself dry in front of you.

“Joel—” you started, but before you could finish, he cut you off, his voice calm but firm, like a man who had already said too much but was determined to say it all.

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not finished.” His voice held an edge of something deeper now, like he had reached the point of no return. “You have to understand what I’m telling you. When I told you about Amelia, when I told you how much of a coward I’ve been, when I told you about how you changed my life, when I told you I was afraid—what I meant is, that’s why it cost me so much to do all this. But now? Now, it’s all insignificant. All of it. Compared to this. Compared to you.”

Your breath caught as his words settled in the space between you, and you could feel your eyes widen, your body stiffening with an ache you couldn’t place. You watched him, his expression flickering—his eyebrows tense, his lips parted with an unreadable intensity, his eyes dark and glistening, glossed with the unmistakable trace of tears. Your stomach twisted at the sight of them, the tears there but barely contained, and you realized how long it had been since you had seen him like this. Vulnerable. So impossibly vulnerable.

He leaned in slightly, his hands rising to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing the damp skin of your cheeks, as if he could steady you both with his touch.

“I love you,” he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I always have. From the moment I saw you, I loved everything about you. Everything. The way you are. The sound of your voice. The way your face lights up when you smile. The way you move, the way you think, the way you feel. I want it all, I want it all with you. Please.”

The words hit you like a slow wave, gentle but relentless, and before you could stop them, the tears you had been fighting to keep in check broke free. They streamed down your face, hot and heavy, staining your flushed cheeks. Joel’s hands were gentle as they wiped them away, his touch tender, almost reverent as his calloused fingers traced the outline of your skin. He stared at you, as if trying to read the language of your eyes, but there was something in them he couldn’t name. It wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t anger. It was something similar to doubt. Uncertainty, maybe. Something that he couldn’t fix with a touch or a word, but something that still held him captive.

“I would kneel in front of you,” he said, his voice soft but laden with a kind of desperate affection, “and beg all night if you asked me to, sunshine.”

His words had the air of a joke, but the way his lips curled into a smile—slow and warm—made something inside you tighten. Something inside you broke just a little, and you smiled in return, the gesture pulling at the corners of your mouth. The smile felt unfamiliar, like it had been so long since you had smiled for him. Really smiled, without hesitation. And when you did, the effect on him was immediate, like a light suddenly flicking on in a room that had been dark for far too long.

Joel’s breath caught at the sight of it. He looked at you as though he had been waiting for that exact moment, for that exact smile, for weeks. The smile he had missed more than he could admit.

With a quiet, almost embarrassed chuckle, he pulled his hands from your face, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You stared at him, confused, as he slowly began to lower himself onto one knee, the movement slow, deliberate, as though he was going to ask something, something monumental and beg. But before he could finish the motion, you instinctively reached for him, hands gripping his sides, pulling him back up with a soft laugh.

“Joel, please,” you laughed, the sound light and disbelieving, as if you couldn’t quite believe what was happening. But in your chest, you felt a soft pressure—the weight of everything he had just said, everything he had just given to you. 

Standing before you, Joel didn’t give you a second to pull away, his hands moving with certainty, cupping your face with a tenderness that seemed almost fragile, as if he was afraid of breaking something. His fingers gently traced the contours of your skin, his gaze unwavering, like he was memorizing every detail of your face. 

“I fucking love you,” he whispered, his voice rough, the words heavy with an urgency that seemed to echo in the stillness between you. Before you could react, his lips were on yours—soft, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters, and then more sure, more insistent, as he kissed you again, and then again, and again, and again. Each kiss was brief, a fleeting press of his soft lips against yours, but each one held a weight, a quiet desperation that was impossible to ignore.

Your hands rested on his chest, the steady beat of his heart under your palms grounding you in that moment, pulling you closer into the warmth of his embrace. You could feel the tension in him, the way his body seemed to pulse with need, and you knew—without a doubt—that he was hanging on to every second, waiting for you to say something. 

"I love you," you whispered, the words slipping out involuntarily, caught somewhere between a confession and a plea. Your lips were mere inches from his as you spoke, your breath mingling with his in the small space between your mouths. As he kissed the corner of your lips, you felt the tremble in his kiss, the way his entire body seemed to respond to the simplicity of those three words. 

Joel’s lips curved into a smile against yours, and he pulled back, just enough to watch your face. His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to memorize something invisible, something that only the two of you could understand.

“I love you too, Joel,” you said again, your voice low but steady, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing grounding you. “And I’m sorry. Truly. If I hurt you—if anything I did made you feel that way—it was never intentional. I need you to know that. Nothing that happened with Travis was ever about trying to hurt you. I’d never do that.” You paused, your fingers tightening slightly. “But I get it. I shouldn’t have let it get so messy, not after what happened between us.”

Joel tilted his head, his gaze softening even further.

“We handled this a little badly, didn’t we?” he said, his voice edged with a hint of humor, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark and bright at the same time, his pupils blown wide like he was looking straight at the moon.

You nodded, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “I think that’s putting it lightly.”

His smile turned rueful, almost sheepish. “I’m sorry—for all of it. I mean it. Please, forgive me.”

Your hands slid upward, fingers tracing the line of his collar, then moving to the soft skin behind his ears, the place where his hair curled just slightly above his nape.

“I forgive you,” you murmured. “It’s okay. I understand. And I love you.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his—just the barest touch—before pulling back again, almost abruptly. Joel didn’t move, his eyes flicking between yours like he was searching for something more in your expression. Your fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck, anchoring you both.

“But if you ever do something like that again,” you said, your voice soft but firm, “if you ever run away from me again, Joel Miller, I swear to fucking God—”

He shook his head quickly, cutting you off. “I won’t. I promise.”

You studied him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly, measuring the weight of his words. Then, as if deciding you’d had enough distance, you closed the space between you in one swift motion, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth back to yours.

This time, there was no hesitation. No shyness. No lingering doubt. Just heat and certainty, the kind that made the room feel smaller, the air heavier. Joel’s arms circled your waist, pulling you flush against him until there wasn’t a millimeter of space left.

When you finally broke the kiss, his lips left yours with a soft, audible sound, one that seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. You hovered for a second before kissing him again, this time opening your mouth, your tongue grazing his bottom lip. He groaned softly, a sound that vibrated from his chest to your mouth, and you smiled against him.

Somewhere in the distance, a shrill sound broke through the haze. His phone. It rang once, then twice, before falling silent again. Joel didn’t so much as flinch.

You pulled back, slightly breathless, your hands cradling the sides of his face. His lips were pink, puffy, his cheeks still flushed. His hair was mussed from your fingers, and his eyes—those impossibly dark eyes—looked at you like you were something sacred.

That man was yours.

“Cassie will be back any second,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through the locks that had fallen over his forehead.

Joel hummed, leaning in to press his lips against your neck, his mustache tickling your skin in a way that made you laugh involuntarily.

“I doubt it,” he murmured, his breath warm against you. “But we could go to my place if you wanna keep talkin'. Sarah won’t be back till dinner.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his teeth grazed your neck, gentle but deliberate, sending a ripple of warmth through you that stole whatever you were about to say.

“Talk,” you managed, half a laugh, half a protest, as his lips pressed against the spot again, and the world outside the two of you felt very far away. 

“I wanna take my time with you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he kissed a slow, soft trail up to your jaw. “I wanna do things right, without arguments or interruptions.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the weight of his intention, and for a moment, it felt like everything outside of this room was suspended. Time wasn’t rushing forward anymore—it was just the two of you, existing in this space, in this perfect, quiet moment.

But just as the last word left his lips, the ringing of his phone sliced through the air, sharp and unwelcome. Joel froze for a beat, the smile on his face faltering slightly. He pulled away, reluctantly, the distance between you growing just enough for him to glance at the phone screen.

“Convenient,” he muttered, his voice holding a note of dry humor, but the amusement quickly faded as he saw the caller ID. His brow furrowed, and he answered with a steadying breath, bringing the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

You watched him, the way his posture stiffened, his focus sharpening as he listened. His brows furrowed deeply, his eyes narrowing. Your hand, which had been resting on his chest, stilled as you saw the shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw.

He stepped back slightly, as if distancing himself from the moment, his hand gripping the phone tighter as his voice lowered, more urgent now. “Which hospital?” he asked, his words clipped. “Okay, okay, I’m on my way. Tell her I’m on my way—tell her not to be scared...”

You took a step forward, instinctively, your voice trembling as you whispered, “Joel...”

His eyes flicked to you, a flicker of panic crossing his features, but he quickly masked it. He stood straighter, listening intently, his body still but tense. “I... uh,” he hesitated, his gaze meeting yours, the weight of the moment sinking in. “I’ll be right there.”

The words hung in the air, and just as quickly as the connection was made, it was severed. He snapped the phone shut, his breath shaky as he shoved it into his pocket. His face had gone pale, the usual warmth drained from his expression.

“Irina’s mother is at the hospital with Sarah,” he said, his voice thick with worry. He ran a hand through his hair, the movement absent, almost frantic, as he turned toward the door, his steps hurried. You followed him, your heart now thumping in your chest, your mind spinning with the new reality of the situation.

“What happened?” The question left your mouth, but it felt cold, distant, as if the words hadn’t quite reached you. Your heart raced, the quiet stillness in your chest now replaced by a frantic pulse. “Is she okay?”

“She fell out of the treehouse,” he said, his voice breaking for a moment as he spoke, a touch of guilt in his words. “I... I...” He trailed off, unsure of what to say, his words tangled in the chaos of his thoughts.

Without another word, you grabbed your coat from the rack by the door, your fingers shaking as you pulled it on. Without thinking, you moved toward him, your hand pressing gently but firmly against his lower back, urging him forward.

“Come on,” you said, the urgency in your voice pulling him out of his fog. “I’ll drive.”

[revelboo]

your revel highness, if its not too much trouble could you spare some knockout or drift crumbs? only if you're up for it

Sure!

My Favorite Accident Pt 7

Knockout x Reader

• “You can’t just keep sneaking out. It’s being noticed,” Breakdown growls and Knockout huffs at his friend, sterilizing and putting his tools away. Because this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation. Knows Breakdown worries about him and the repercussions of him sneaking out just to drag race, but really? Lord Megatron is too busy amusing himself with tormenting that little human they snatched thinking it was important to the Autobots only to realize it wasn’t. Anything else he doesn’t have time for.

• “Aren’t I always careful?” He laughs, turning and tipping his head back as Breakdown frowns at down at him. “It’s just a little fun. You remember what that is?” Pointedly going around his bigger friend, he thinks about that cesspool he’d left you in. Plating crawling at the thought of ever returning there. Embarrassed for you that you work there and wondering how angry you’d be if he burns it down while you’re not there so you have to find a new job. Though, given your current one and that pit-forsaken hovel you live in, you’ll somehow find something worse just to spite him.

• “You’re just spending a lot of time with those little flesh bags,” Breakdown mutters and he vents guiltily. That’s what this is about. That he’s been out racing and lately, practicing alone with you instead of hanging out with Breakdown. Reach up to affectionately cuff the bigger mech on the chassis, he knows he needs to spend some time with Breakdown. But he also needs to check on you, make sure you got home okay. It’s not like he cares, but who is he going to race if you get yourself killed? That in mind, he heads out, aware of Breakdown frowning after him. Unhappy.

• Hoofing it back to the apartment since your ride ditched you, the only good thing is it’s dark now and you’re not baking in the sun at least. But you’re going to kick the hell out of Knockout’s stupid, shiny paint when you see him again. Who just leaves someone stranded? High maintenance alien jerks, apparently. Hair slicked to your forehead and neck with sweat, you see the headlights coming up behind you and move further off the road just as a car streaks by only to immediately slam on the brakes. Speak of the devil.

• On the side the road, he almost doesn’t recognize you, driving past before he catches you in his mirrors. Throwing himself in reverse with a snarl, he backs up and shifts on his shocks. “Why are you walking?” Primus, he knows you’re broke, but still. And you glare at him. Like this is his fault. Annoyed when you just keep walking, he follows.

• “I’m walking, because my ride ditched me.” And because you didn’t have anyone to call, but you’re not about to admit that. Not to him. “Go away before I key you.” It’s an empty threat and you both know it. Even if he seems to, well, not like you, but tolerate your existence, you’re pretty sure he’d stomp you if you tried. And he pops open a door, waving it in invitation. “Really? Cause I’m sweaty.” Door closing sharply, he just keeps passively rolling alongside you.

• What is he doing? Keeping his headlights out, Breakdown trails behind at a safe distance. Close enough to not lose Knockout, but too far away to hear whatever’s being said. But what he can tell? Knockout is talking to a little human walking by the side of the road. Sees his friend open a door for you then close it without you getting in as you throw up a hand at him. Who are you? And why is Knockout bothering with you?

Previous

[rose24207]

Hey can you do one where lando who sees the reader after 2 weeks due their busy schedules but she goes out to party at a club and dances with guy(nothing inappropriate) and lando gets supper jealous and they fight and have sex later. If possible can you make the reader!singer

All yours

Summary: Lando’s jealousy ignites a heated argument when he finds you dancing with another man, but it leads to an intimate reconciliation.

Genre: Angst, suggestive, jealous

TW: +18 minors do not interact

A/N: I’ve never written smut before so that’s my first try. Bare with me!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

It had been two weeks since you last saw Lando. Both of you were swamped—him with race prep and sponsorship events, you with recording sessions and promoting your latest single. The rare snippets of time you could steal for video calls felt more like a tease than a relief. So when your best friend insisted you needed a night out to unwind, you reluctantly agreed.

The club was buzzing with energy—music pulsing, lights flickering, and bodies swaying. It was the kind of chaos that let you forget everything for a while. You were laughing with your friends when a guy asked you to dance. He wasn’t pushy, just friendly, and since your friends were already on the floor, you thought, Why not?

When Lando arrived at your apartment a few hours later, tired but excited to see you, he was surprised to find it empty. A text from one of your friends led him to the club, and the sight that greeted him sent a wave of jealousy crashing through him.

There you were, smiling and carefree, dancing with some guy. You weren’t doing anything inappropriate, but it didn’t matter to Lando. He hadn’t seen you in weeks, and now someone else was soaking up your attention. His jaw clenched as he made his way through the crowd.

“Y/N,” he called, his voice cutting through the noise.

You turned, startled, and your face lit up in surprise. “Lando? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said sharply, his gaze flickering to the guy you’d been dancing with.

“He’s just a friend,” you said quickly, sensing the tension in his voice.

“I don’t care who he is,” Lando snapped, grabbing your hand. “We’re leaving.”

Back at your apartment, the tension between you could’ve ignited a fire.

“What the hell was that, Lando?” you demanded, yanking off your heels. “You show up unannounced and start acting like I did something wrong?”

“Do you have any idea how it felt to see you with him?” he shot back. “I haven’t seen you in two weeks, Y/N. Two weeks! And the first time I do, you’re dancing with some random guy?”

“You think I don’t miss you too?” you countered, your voice rising. “I’ve been dying to see you, Lando, but I’m not going to sit at home waiting for you to show up like some damsel in distress!”

The room fell silent except for your heavy breathing. Lando ran a hand through his curls, his frustration melting into guilt. “I know,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “I know it’s not fair. I just… I hate the idea of anyone else getting your attention when I can’t.”

Your anger softened as his vulnerability peeked through. “Lando…”

Lando’s lips were insistent against yours as he pushed you back against the bedroom wall, his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you might slip away. The heat of his jealousy and longing radiated off him, making your heart race.

“I hate seeing anyone else touch you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. His fingers slid beneath the hem of your dress, tugging it up.

“And no one else gets to,” you replied breathlessly, your hands moving to unbutton his shirt with urgency. “I’m yours, Lando. Always.”

He groaned at your words, lifting you easily as your legs wrapped around his waist. His mouth trailed down your neck, kissing and nibbling at your skin, leaving little reminders of his presence.

He carried you to the bed, laying you down with a gentleness that contrasted with the fire in his eyes. He stood there for a moment, pulling off his shirt, his gaze raking over you. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t have time to respond as he leaned over you, his hands slipping the straps of your dress off your shoulders. He kissed along your collarbone, his lips soft yet demanding, as the fabric of your dress fell away.

“God, I missed you,” he whispered, his hands exploring every inch of your skin as if committing you to memory all over again.

Your fingers tangled in his curls, pulling him closer. “Then don’t hold back,” you urged, your voice filled with need.

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. His lips captured yours in a kiss that left you breathless, his hands roaming over your body with a reverence that made your heart ache. He took his time, teasing and savoring, as if reminding you exactly how much you meant to him.

When he finally joined you, his movements were slow and deliberate, his forehead pressed against yours as he whispered your name like a prayer. The intensity of it all—the way he looked at you, the way he touched you—made it impossible to think of anything else.

“You feel so perfect,” he groaned, his voice thick with emotion. His hands held your hips firmly, guiding your movements as you clung to him.

“Lando,” you gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation of him, the intimacy of the moment.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “I’ll always have you.”

The tension built slowly, the connection between you deepening with every shared breath, every whispered confession. When you finally reached your peak, his name spilled from your lips, a mix of ecstasy and emotion.

He followed soon after, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he whispered, “I love you,” over and over, like a mantra.

As you lay tangled together afterward, your bodies still entwined, Lando pulled you closer, his hand running soothingly along your back.

“I’m sorry for being an idiot,” he murmured, his voice soft.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You’re my idiot.”

And as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, you both drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that no matter how busy life got, you would always find your way back to each other.

Thank you for reading!

[reidsrambles]

Part 2: New Year's Day

This is part 2 of a duo, so please go read part 1, New Year's Eve, if you haven't yet!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Description: My only New Year's Eve plan is to help my best friend Penelope entertain her many party guests. When I find myself alone with her coworker, Spencer (who I've had a crush on for ages), it seems that my New Year's might turn out different than I had planned.

(Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI] smut, protected (condom) PiV sex, oral sex (F receiving), brief mention of being drunk or high in the past

A/N: Again, down the wire! I've been writing literally all day. It's 10 PM and I haven't yet made dinner... I wrote and edited this one basically just today?? So if there are any mistakes or I missed any warnings, pls lmk tysm. Again, credit to @saradika-graphics for the divider graphics, including the one I cropped below.

Names used: Baby

Words (this chapter): 3,734

Words (total): 5,759

The kiss is desperate, but not rough. He’s kissing me back, right? I pull my face away. He leans his forehead against mine, both of us panting into the mere inches between our lips. 

He doesn’t loosen his hold on my body. “Is everything okay? We can stop if you want.” 

“I don’t want to stop.” I grip the fabric of his shirt where my hands lie on his back. “Do you want to stop?”

His hand snakes down to my ass, splaying wide across it. He pulls my body into his, letting me feel his hardening cock.

“I really don’t want to stop,” he breathes into my neck, just below my ear, “but I have to confess something before we go any further.”

What the hell? Does he have an STI that I need to know about? Trouble keeping it up? I mean, that doesn’t seem to be a problem, but you never know. Is he already with someone? Penelope didn’t say he had a partner, but maybe he’s kept them a secret?

We both still, Spencer breathing against my neck. I’d consider it ticklish if not for the jolt it sends straight to my core.

“I’ve been attracted to you for a long time, but I was too scared to say anything.” The words come out of Spencer’s mouth. Not mine. Holy shit.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I laugh, dropping my head to Spencer’s chest in utter bewilderment. “I’ve had a crush on you since the first time we met. Penelope hasn’t stopped teasing me about it since.”

“Glad I’m not alone in that,” he laughs.

“Happy New Year, by the way,” I say, lifting my head to look at him again. Eyes, lips. Eyes, lips. 

“Happy New Year,” he breathes, hovering against my lips. Oppositely charged magnets falling in order with the laws of physics. Complying with the will of the universe.

I’ve never been kissed like this. Maybe it’s the thrill of unrequited lust finally requited, or maybe Spencer is just a really good kisser. His hands cradle my head on both sides. It’s like he could kiss you for hours and never be sick of it. Every soft, lush kiss plays against the intermittent roughness. The desperate ones, where lips are bit and tongues are engaged in the fervor. It feels wholly consuming and incomplete at the same time. 

“We don’t have to do anything else,” I say, “but to be clear, I’m definitely down if you want to.”

He shakes his head and steps back, putting distance between us. He clenches and unclenches his hands and then rubs his palms against his dress pants. 

My eyes catch on the bulge in his pants, and shamelessly, I can’t stop staring at it. I’ve imagined it before, in my most desperate, lonely moments. Right after breakups, when I’d rather escape into my imagination to soothe me. After running into him at one of Penelope’s get-togethers. I’d steal every shy glance at him, trying to memorize his features. Then I’d go home and imagine myself kissing every inch of him.

I know I probably just need a good eight to…twelve hours of sleep to clear the fog in my brain that’s making this feel like another one of my erotic daydreams. But maybe being a bit out of it is what led me to kiss him like that. If I had been at my most rational, I probably wouldn’t have.

Spencer wipes at his face. He can’t stop moving his hands. Biting a nail between his teeth. Gripping the material of his pants. Crossing and uncrossing his arms. 

“[Y/N], you have no idea how badly I want to.” My heart sinks into my stomach. There’s always a but. “But I don’t want it to happen like this.”

I nod slowly, genuinely trying to avoid letting my disappointment come across as pouting. “Okay. That’s fair.”

He looks utterly exasperated, trying to keep his hands off me, and I’ve never felt so horny and so dejected at the same time. If he didn’t clearly state that he’s into me, I can’t lie and say that I wouldn’t feel extremely rejected right now.

“I’ve thought about it before,” he says. “What it would be like… to be with you. I just don’t want the first time to be at a party, in Penelope’s guest room”

I sit back down on the bed, willing my body to cool down, but it’s a non-starter. “I’ve thought about it before. What it would be like… to be with you,” playing back in my head on an unending loop. Clenched thighs give my clit the slightest bit of attention and ease the ache every so slightly.

“I’ve thought about it too,” I say, reminiscing about the numerous dirty fantasies I’ve crafted in my head over the years. I owe far too many orgasms to my vibrator, and to imaginary Spencer praising me, begging me to cum.

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “God, this is so hard.” 

Hard, indeed. I selfishly ogle the tent in his pants again, taking advantage of the fact that he’s struggling to look in my direction. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. “Do you want to leave?”

He joins me on the edge of the mattress. Again, a respectable distance between us. 

He sighs. “If I don’t leave now, I don’t think I’ll have enough self-control to stop myself.”

Yet, he’s sitting beside me, wringing his hands in his lap. 

Before I can formulate any response, he starts. “What about when the party ends?”

“I locked the door on the way in. I didn’t want anyone barging in here trying to find the bathroom. And,” I gesture to the door, the party even louder now that the champagne is flowing, “this party doesn’t die down until three, maybe four.”

“I don’t have a condom, either,” he says quietly.

I push myself up off the bed and walk over to the bedside table. I’ve stayed in this room many times. Usually, when I get drunk or high and can’t drive home. Penelope snores. As much as I love her to bits, if she didn’t have a guest bedroom, I’d be sleeping on the couch. 

I rifle through the top drawer. A couple of individually packaged toothbrushes. A couple of mini bottles of mouthwash. Charging cables. Nope, nope, nope. 

I squat down to look through the bottom drawer, consciously arching my back and popping my ass out a bit. I know they’re in here somewhere. In the back of the drawer, tucked away, is a small, colorful zipper pouch. I’ve stumbled across this pouch before, but I can safely say that I’ve never used it. I hope nobody else has, either, honestly. Tucked inside is a roll of male condoms and a few individually packaged female condoms. 

I (mentally, emotionally, spiritually) cross my fingers as I check the date printed across the wrapper. They aren’t expired. Thank fucking god. 

I rip one off at the perforated line and place it in Spencer’s hand. 

He fiddles with the foil wrapper in his fingers. Not opening it. Just turning it in his hands.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks. “Here? Like this?”

“Before tonight, I honestly thought there was zero chance you liked me. I’ve wanted this for so long, and I’m so incredibly horny right now that it’s actually hard to think straight.” I wrap my hand around his, and he stops fidgeting. “Is there anything else?”

My question is sincere and gentle. Is there anything else that you need to reassure you that I want this? Is there anything else you need?

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time, but I was tested after,” he says.

“I was tested after my last partner.”

I start undoing my blouse. Button by button. Lower and lower. Spencer mirrors me, undoing his crisp, blue dress shirt. Button by button. Lower and lower.

“And we can stop at any point, so please let me know if there’s anything you want or don’t want,” he says.

“Same goes for you.”

I slide my blouse off and unzip my skirt at the side. With my tights already off, I’m left in just my bra and underwear, my clothes in a pile beside the bed. Spencer takes his shirt off and his pants follow. He tries his best to quickly fold them, and in two large strides, he places them on top of the dresser. 

He turns to face me. In just his underwear, I have quite the view. I don’t even think he’s fully hard, but my mouth is watering at the outline of him. The butterflies are gone, replaced by a pang of hunger. I want to lick and taste every inch of him. The mental renderings I’ve crafted of Spencer in the past are all wiped from my memory. I have no use for them anymore. I have the real thing, actively being encoded into memory. 

He comes to stand between my legs. Still seated, his veiled cock is right in front of my face. 

“[Y/N], there’s just one more question that I have to ask first.”

I can only imagine what he sees looking down at me. As I look up at him through my lashes, my wet lips and flushed, glowing cheeks sit right next to his hard cock.

Does he know that I’ve been rocking my hips and squeezing my thighs together just to pacify my throbbing clit? 

“Can we go on a real date too sometime?” he says. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing, and I also don’t want this to ruin my chances with you.” 

I feel stupid for not thinking that far ahead. If he had just wanted this to be a one-night stand, I would have accepted that, even though I know I want more with him. 

I nod and kiss the front of his hip, earning a stuttered breath from him when my cheek grazes his bulge. 

“I’d love that, Spencer.” 

I drag my face across his covered cock. Everything about this—about him—is intoxicating. I breathe him in, my hands on his hips, and the scent feels like a drug I could get high off of. 

“Can you lie down?” he says. 

I have no objections. 

I rip my bra and underwear off as fast as I can manage, pulling my bra over my head instead of undoing the clasps. I toss them to the floor to join the rest of my clothes. I’m, maybe a bit shamelessly, too eager to waste any time. 

Spencer is standing next to the bed, naked, jaw slack, just stroking himself to nothing but my naked body. That’ll do great things for the ego. 

“You are…” he breathes, shaking his head. The words he’s missing hang somewhere in the air, but he doesn’t look away from me long enough to search for them.

He opens the foil wrapper, rolls the condom on, and crawls onto the bed between my legs. I expect him to just shove it in there, but instead, he drags two long fingers through my wetness, absolutely mesmerized.

“Perfect,” he says, staring at my pussy. “So perfect.” 

He slides one finger inside me and I gasp. It doesn’t fill me, but when he takes it out a moment later, I still mourn the emptiness. He takes the same finger into his mouth, eyes closed as he admires the taste of me. 

I’m pretty sure that I can’t get any hornier than I am at this moment. It’s physiologically impossible. 

“Please, Spencer. Fuck,” I whine. “I need you inside me.”

Quick pecks trace a line up my body, and Spencer kisses me, bodies pressed together like he’s never going to kiss me again. It’s deep, sloppy, and passionate. Moaning into each other’s mouths as I grip his hips. His cock is nestled in my center. I grind against it.

Breathless, Spencer lifts his body just enough to reach between us, guiding his cock to where we need it. 

I close my eyes as he enters me; I have to turn off one of my senses to process it. In the black void behind my eyelids, I can feel everything. I can hear everything. A choked moan at the back of my throat breaks free. He pushes in further. Spencer shifts from his hands to his elbows, using the leverage to slide in even more. 

“Oh, god. This is so much better than I imagined,” he says, his voice strained from pleasure.

Was Spencer thinking about me at the same time I was thinking about him? Like two lovers wondering if the other is gazing up at the moon at the same time. I open my eyes. The tufts of hair framing his face flop down, a few stray strands sticking to his face. The room is already warming and his skin glistens in it. 

“What did you think about? What did you imagine?” I ask.

He fills me to the hilt, and his lips find mine; the kiss a fierce declaration that this shared sensation in our bodies is indeed shared. Spencer is feeling the same utter bliss that I am, and the thought of that alone sends a spark to my core. I’m making him feel this good. 

Spencer remains unmoving, huffing breaths intermixed with muttered curses as he adjusts. The part where we’re united throbs like a beating heart, both of our bodies diverting blood from our brains to fuel this tryst. 

“I felt so ashamed thinking about you like that,” he whispers against my cheek, “not knowing if you wanted me, too.”

Pinned beneath him, I push my hips up against him as much as I can manage, desperate for more. Spencer’s eyes flutter closed as he matches my movements, his cock sliding in and out as we grind into each other.

“Did you think about what I’d feel like the first time? Because I thought about what you’d feel like inside me.”

Earning moans from Spencer feels like a gift. A secret that has been bestowed upon me. For my ears only. I want to wrap this secret up and hide it under my bed. To throw it in a box and padlock it shut. I want to place it in a fancy locket, one I hide under my shirt, tucked up safe against my skin where nobody else can reach it.

“I thought about that far too much.” He shakes his head. “But you’re even better than I could’ve imagined.”

He pumps into me a few more times, hard and fast, as our bodies take the wheel, chasing the zenith of pleasure. We move together as a duet. The song? A lullaby of moans, whimpers, and whispered praises.

With each thrust, his body presses against my clit.

“Oh my god. You feel so fucking good, Spencer.”

He reaches a hand up to the side of my face, cradling my head and stroking my cheek with his thumb. I can feel the heat radiating from my cheeks. His thumb is icy in comparison. 

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He glances at my chest, and then his eyes dart as he takes in the rest of my body. “Your body is perfect.” He peppers kisses across my lips, my shoulder, my neck. Every place his lips touch stings like I’ve been branded. “Perfect,” he breathes against my neck. 

“How did I taste?” I ask, remembering Spencer licking his finger clean.

“Addictive” is the word he chooses, and thoughts of Spencer’s head between my legs—in my own bed—consume me.

He slows, almost to a stop. “Would you mind if I…?”

I finish his trailed-off sentence, not entirely sure if I’m right on the money or not. “Go down on me?” 

He nods, and a breathy, “please,” is all I can manage to squeak out. It would be damn near impossible to think of a single reason to deny this man in his request.

Between my legs—framed like a work of art—Spencer keeps his eyes locked on my face as he trails his tongue up between my lips. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh my god. Please. Please keep going.”

He moans into my pussy, wasting no time in getting into it. 

“Can I grab your head as I get close?”

He whines, “please,” against my skin, and I tell him to pinch me if he needs me to loosen my grip. 

Spencer’s long arms wrap around my thighs, keeping me from squirming away. I’ve never had anyone go down on me like this. He is feral, barely coming up for air. I reach down to slide my fingers into his hair, feeling myself inch closer and closer by the second. He’s humping the bed, large dimples forming in his plush ass. I just want to dig my nails into it.

One arm lifts from its spot around my leg. Spencer is a man on a mission. He needs that arm, that hand, those fingers. Two fingers slide inside me, and I know I’m not going to last. I squirm against him and he lets me control the penetration, keeping his hand still. His mouth, however, continues in its relentless pursuit. 

I feel like I’ve unlocked something here. This version of Spencer is unleashed. He’s had his taste of the forbidden fruit, and he’s fully invested. 

I grip his head, needing to pull him into me. Needing to control the pressure.

“Spencer, fuck.”

“Yes, baby. Please cum in my mouth.”

“I—” is all I spit out before it hits me. A tidal wave of heat and pressure that radiates from my core. I grip Spencer’s hair between my fingers and he moans even harder. I squeeze my eyes shut so hard that, when I open them, my vision is a pinhole vignetted by fuzzy white light. His tongue continues lapping at my center until my thighs trap his head, my clit unable to take anymore. 

My whole body is tingling. Every nerve in my body is on high alert. My ab muscles twitch with each jerky breath as the lingering shockwaves work through me. 

Spencer is kissing my thighs as if each space his lips touch is better than the last. He is relishing in my body. Worshipping it. 

In this state, having cum so hard that my ears are ringing, I probably wouldn’t hesitate to declare my ardent love for him. Thankfully, I have some logic system deep in my brain that remains online and protects me from stupid mistakes like that. 

“Spencer, please. Get back inside me.”

The moan that spills from us both as he slides back inside me, my pussy still throbbing with aftershocks, should be tattooed somewhere on my body. The waveform of it or whatever. My new New Year’s resolution: get a tattoo. Add that to my other New Year’s resolution: let Spencer Reid fucking rail me in every way possible.

His thrusts are already sloppier than before. “Yes, fuck. Yes. Do you know how fucking good you taste, baby? I could eat you out for hours. So perfect.” 

I grab his jaw and kiss him, tasting myself. Tasting me and him mixed together. 

“Spencer, I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

I feel tears brimming in my eyes. Exhaustion, overwhelm, pleasure, and lust well up right at the finish line. Every sporadic back-arching thrust flutters my eyelids, pushing a small tear down both sides of my face.

“The first day I met you,” he says, struggling to get the words out fluidly, “you were the most beautiful thing. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

My hands slide to his ass, and I grip the flesh. I want my nails to leave a mark. I want to claim him as my own. 

“Cum inside me, Spencer.” 

He pounds into me, hard. The passion he showed while giving me oral is back in full force. 

His head falls into the crook of my neck as he works himself to the edge, muffling the dirty string of words that escape as he falls apart. His cock twitches hard inside me as he spills into the condom. I wish he was condomless, shooting his ropes of cum deep within me. But maybe that’s just a dirty fantasy that will never come to fruition. 

Spencer peppers me with some more kisses before getting up to discard the condom in the small trash can beside the door.

“I’ll change that garbage bag before I leave,” he says.

“I’m going to have to tell her,” I say, pulling my underwear up. “I’ll have to do some laundry for sure.” I gesture to the disheveled, dirty sheets. 

“Yeah, I know. She’s nosy, so I bet she’d figure it out regardless,” he laughs. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need. With the cleanup.”

The party noise is more subdued, but it sounds like the majority of guests are still here. The small digital alarm clock beside the bed reads 1:15 AM. 

“Wanna just wait it out?” I ask, straightening out the sheets just enough to crawl under them. “I promised Penelope I’d help her clean up, anyway.”

Spencer slips in beside me and I snuggle into his side, draping my leg over his and wrapping an arm across his chest. 

“I much prefer it in here,” he says, pressing his lips to my temple. 

I kiss him one last time, long and tender, before resting my head on his shoulder. I don’t even get a word out of my mouth before I crash once more.

A sharp knock on the door jolts me and Spencer from our very deep slumber. Morning light filters through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. I rub my eyes, swiping away the remnants of such a sleep. On the plus side, I feel fucking fantastic. Spencer sits up and stretches his arms above his head.

Another knock. Much harder.

“[Y/N]?” Penelope asks through the door.

We hop out of bed to hurriedly finish redressing ourselves.

“Shit, I fell asleep last night! I’m sorry, Pen!” I yell to her.

“Is…Spencer still in there with you?”

“Yes,” I say, annoyed. “Happy now?”

“I cleared off some space on the counter and started making breakfast whenever you two are dressed!”

Previous Chapter: New Year's Eve

AO3 | Tumblr | Masterlist

[r0-boat]

Yandere!Lighter Hcs RAA

This is pure rambling word vomit I just need him.

*drops all of my ZZZ Yandere headcannons* Oh no please I beg you don't read them 👀👀👀

Wise and Belle are next

Cw: Not healthy relationship, NSFW, non-con, kidnapping, implied that he is going to harm you, He is not okay, do not read if you are not okay.

Lighter is sickly sweet to you like candy, He's close to the sons of Caledon but they would never understand how he feels for you. Everyone else outside the people he respects he doesn't care. Without you he saw the world in black and white. It might sound cheesy but you are his everything. And like hell he was going to lose his everything without a fight.

It doesn't matter if you love him or not, would be easier if you just accepted his love and stayed with him.... Not going to lie it hurts, It fucking hurts The fact the one person he fell in love with his first love does not feel the same. He never felt like this before nor he'll ever in his future.

Lighter we'll never just straight up admit his feelings for you He's too scared that you'll reject him. And he is downright terrified that you'll find out about his obsession for you that feels too damn good to stop.

You will never know that with his connections he has hired a few people to take a few pictures of you. Pictures that He uses the touch himself to every night.

You will never know how pathetic you make him feel when he can't have You in his field of vision for a single second.

Threatening anyone who is close to you, using intimidation alone at the others around you to make sure he's the only one you need. To you your friends and family we'll just think Lighter is a bad influence and a bad boyfriend, You none the wiser we'll think they're not looking past his looks. Because how could he be so deplorable and possessive when he's just so sweet?

Lighter when snaps he tries to calm has already spiraling mind, His shaky hands trying to fish in his pocket for a jawbreaker for him to suck on as his anxiety starts to spike and he makes a spontaneous decision to kidnapped you, He was never one for big plans or manipulation or anything. But he has you now and... He doesn't really want to let go of you. He knows full well that you don't like him It still hurts every time he's reminded of that. But he's so so sure that he could make you fall in love with him. All you have to do is... Stop being bad.

Lighter acts like the delusional yandere, Even though he's fully aware of how you feel about him. I think he just chooses to ignore it.

Believe him he doesn't want to punish you, He doesn't want to chain you down, or tie you up, or lock you away. And he certainly doesn't want to hurt you. He wants to protect you. Protect you from everything that can hurt you outside. But he will if he has to, It's the only way to make you see reason. you'll learn your lesson... One day.

Lighter is still sweet to you, maybe even sweeter now that he knows he gets to come home to the love of his life, You come home with flowers, candy, anything you like. And as soon as he sees you his tired face will lighten into a smile as he drops on his knees to your level to kiss your face and gently touch you.

He can't keep his hands off you "Hey baby~ how was your day today?"He would mumble against your neck pepper and kisses on your collarbone, He knows full well how your day has been and What you have been doing. But he wants to hear you say it. He wants to hear that voice he's been aching to hear all day. He really needs it.

He wants you on his cock so bad, when he has you in his lap stroking your thigh with his hand, you could feel something poke into your butt. But he can't take you; He wants to make love to you, And he can't do that when you don't realize how much He loves you.

He's not sure how long he'll last since the more you push him away the more he just wants to say "fuck it, You want a villain? you'll get one." to train your cock drunk self to take him everyday. But he wants you to love him; He doesn't want you to lust for him. He wants to come home and cook dinner with you, have a casual conversation, and cuddle by the fireplace before he makes love to you right there as the dancing fire casts your shadows on the walls.

He wants you to feel loved in his arms, He wants to be all mushy gushy and romantic with you. He wants all these things that he's afraid that he'll never have in his life. And he rather just force it on the one person he fell in love with.

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - Nesting Suppplies (Bonus)

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization; selling children to a cult

Author's Note: Um... hello, my 100+ followers... holy shit >.> Let's celebrate with a bonus part! Thank you all for being here <3 and happy new year, everyone!

<Johnny.

>L.T.

<Smartass. I need your help. <What the hell do omegas need for their nests? Pillows and blankets but what else?

>L.T. >Did you find an omega?

<In a way, yes.

>Did you go to Salvation?!

<Yes. There's a lot to it but for now I just need you to help me gather things for a nest. <We're going shopping.

>HELL YEAH!!!!! >I'll be at yours in about 15!

<Johnny, just meet me at the shops. <Johnny.

"Dammit," Simon grumbles.

The idiot already got in his truck, Simon's sure of it. Johnny may struggle with over excitement and ADHD, but he's anal about no phones while driving. He'll even make someone pull over so he can drive if he catches the driver with their phone. Even did it to Simon. Only once. Simon hasn't touched his phone while driving since.

As soon as Johnny arrives, Simon drops an extra bit of kibble and a few treats in Selene's dish before joining Johnny in his truck. The door is barely closed before Johnny's spouting off questions.

"Johnny! One question at a time," Simon snaps then takes a deep breath with his eyes closed. He hadn't meant to snap at the man; he's just overwhelmed as is. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. Apologies are still a work in progress for him.

"Nah, I'm sorry, Si. I can see how stressed you are," Johnny says with a concerned frown. "What's going on?"

As Johnny begins driving into town, Simon explains what he knows and the alarms that go off in his head while he's on the facility's property. For the first time in a long time, Johnny is quiet. Even when Simon stops talking, Johnny is deadly quiet.

"What's her name?" Johnny asks finally, eyes on the road and shoulders tense.

"I don't think she knows. Introduced herself as 'UK-009-0013' or '13' and said nothing about an actual name. She doesn't even seem bothered by being called a number."

"I see," Johnny says softly. "Well, let's make sure she'll be comfortable in her new home."

The two men fall into a thoughtful silence for the rest of the drive. Once they reach the shops in town, Simon seems on edge again.

"What am I even supposed to get her? I can't get her clothes, I don't know her size-"

"Just give her some of your clothes. At least to come home in," Johnny shrugs. "Maybe it'll make her more comfortable. Having your scent prior to arriving could make a difference. If you're worried about nesting supplies, that would be easier. For now, since you don't know her favorite colors or textures, just get colors that will remind her of you and stick to textures that are maybe even softer than you are comfortable with."

"How do you know these things?" Simon asks with a sigh as they enter a shop.

"Research," Johnny shrugs. "And both of my sisters are omegas. So I learned from seeing them grow up. Mum also taught me by dragging me along with the three of them to shop. Hated it at the time, but I couldn't be more grateful now," he says with a smile.

"And you don't have an omega... why?"

Johnny shrugs at his best friend's question.

"Just haven't found a good match yet, I suppose. What about you? You were almost against having an omega and now you've taken one in in far less than twenty-four hours." Johnny raises an eyebrow at Simon in curiosity just before smiling and waving at the shop employee that greeted them at the door.

"I guess..." Simon trails off, thinking. "I guess my instincts finally decided it was time to look. As for 13, specifically? I don't know. Maybe it's because there's something clearly wrong with Salvation and I can't stand for that treatment of omegas?"

"Maybe because deep down you know she's a good match, for some reason or another?" Johnny offers and leads Simon to a display with various blankets.

"Maybe..."

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat @peanutismynickname

[jazeswhbhaven]

Hey, I hope you don't mind if I ask for a headcanon? Could you do something for the kings (+Andraelphus [God, I hope I spelt that right] plus anyone else of your choosing if you want) where the MC finds a random angel child/baby left in hell to die or something (idk) and they are stubbornly saying that they need to keep it. Please and thank you!

Thank you for waiting anon! This would be interesting for MC to find a random angel baby because how were they even born? Is this...a possible trap? Well...let's see what everyone decides in the end.

Andrealphus: He was highly against it when he first saw MC with a child in their arms. He could tell right away this child was an angel, left for dead but he also didn't know what the purpose of this could be. Angels would in deed just leave their own behind, but to have a child in the first place? Where did they come from? MC then convinces Dre that this angel could be raised differently so that they don't grow up to be like the others up in Heaven. It does take Dre a lot of thinking, and he decides to come to compromise. He won't deal with the child until it starts to look like they may be dangerous to Hell.

Satan: As far as he was concerned, any angel left behind alive was meant to be dealt with. But at the same time, this angel is a child after all, and a very young one at that to where it's wings haven't even matured yet. He agrees to have MC keep them, as long as they are aware of the consequences and risks. This decision looks bad amongst a few nobles, Sitri being one of them...but Satan's word is final. He does help MC watch over the child, and with time everyone determines that with enough time in Hell, they were swayed over.

Mammon: Everything in Hell belongs to him, even angel infants that are abandoned and left behind. Normally though, what he would do is much more cruel than what MC had in mind. This time, MC convinces Mammon to keep the angel infant, but they are to stay in their own closed off area away from the majority of the palace being heavily monitored by the various smart ai bots built. MC does help the best they can, but it's hard work with the amount of clearances and precautions they have to make.

Beelzebub: It was horrifying trying to get him to not harm the angel. He literally had the poor thing dangled above his jaws about to swallow them whole. MC even tries to get the help of Bael to try and convince him not to follow through, and it deems tough. Eventually MC gives Beel an ultimatum, and it forces him to comply. So in the end, MC is now the caretaker of the child and Beel side eyes the child at every turn. He isn't afraid to come in and handle things if it goes south, and ultimately he forgets anyway and now it's Bael that has to make sure things don't go belly up. MC has it under control though.

Leviathan: His first words? Absolutely fucking not. He even cursed too. There was no way that he was going to save an angel that was left behind for any reason. Not after what he and others went through and the angel could potentially be an issue for Hell later. But at the same time, MC brings up that with Levi's guidance he could have the angel grow up to be an asset instead of an issue. He takes this into consideration and deems that the angel's training will be twice as difficult to really test their loyalty, but only when the angel is old enough. For now they are under MC's care.

Lucifer: He quietly takes in the child without MC having to say much of anything. Though, Paradise Lost doesn't seem to be the place for the infant. He instead entrusts the fallen angels of the Middle Realm to look over the infant. MC is able to visit them from time to time with permission to make sure the angel is doing okay. And so far, it seems everything is going well and there are no issues.

Belphegor: When asked, he didn't want to deal with it so rolled the dice to decide the angel child's fate. Despite of what MC was protesting and wanting from Belphie, the dice was the deciding factor. The angel child was going to stay in Nifelheim, but MC and Beleth were going to be the ones to look after them. MC agrees immediately and Beleth feels a certain way about it, but with time and dedication both determine that the angel child is not an immediate threat. Especially for Beleth who used to be a former angel. Again, Belphie can't be bothered with them because he simply chooses not to. Everything is up to MC at this point.

Asmodeus: An angel baby left behind from Heaven? How interesting. Well, since he and MC can't have children...he just sees this as he and MC adopting a child together no matter where they came from. He wants to see what happens when an angel gets raised from birth by a devil and a human...maybe they can change their mind so they aren't against devils when they're older. Or it could be a complete disaster and go wrong in every sense of the word. But he's just so curious, and he gets to play 'house' with MC. So far, everything is steady and smooth sailing. And may it stay that way....for MC's sake because otherwise Asmodeus has no problem getting rid of the child in any way he deems fit.

[starguardianniom]

Harumasa's health after his agent story

Let's be real here, his master's cure definitely changed things for him.

Probably in both a good and bad way.

Good because it literally saved his life and most likely bought him time so he might actually see past 26, though that's my headcanon since the game makes it clears that even the doctors have no ideas either.

Bad because well, it definitely most likely changes Harumasa's habits and gives him probably even more fear and anxiety to worry about.

Hear me out.

Harumasa is used to taking a lot of pills and most likely knows the patterns to his illness by now.

But with this cure he injected into himself?

It probably will change a lot of things for him.

I mean, for starters, if it controls his illness well, does that means he needs to have some changes in his prescriptions? Will he have new symptoms or something?

I can imagine Harumasa freaked the hell out when he awoke in the hospital after dealing with Kirishima and wondered what the heck was going on and how was he still alive because he was pretty sure he was a goner.

And then when his doctors told him he got better on his own he probably had a little mental breakdown because no way that happened and the doctors must have found a miracle treatment or something because his illness was really killing him there and with his master's "drug" he definitely thought of himself as a dead man.

Later, when finally getting through his head that he is really alive and well, he starts freaking out more because for once he doesn't hurt anywhere and it's probably the healthiest he's ever been and given he was on death's door he can't help but be extremely paranoid about his being alive and well and is scared to hell and back about what it means. Like did his illness mutate when he injected himself the drug? Is it just the calm before the storm? Is he about to get much worse? Could he suddently have worse symptoms than before? I imagine him being afraid of suddently having a seizure just like that because of the drug.

Also I see him not being in the best mental state when he wakes up because he just had about the most stressful week of his life, pursuing his master only to find out he turned into an ethereal right before he could find him which also means his years of searching for him for answers amounts to have been for nothing and losing the only person he could consider family after his parents abandoned him, having to fight him to the death while his illness was acting up badly, dealing with Kirishima, trying to save the kids, trying to get the drug before Kirishima, and then sacrificing himself so no one else would suffer like he did and to stop Kirishima for good, and then miraculously surviving and being healthier than he can remember most likely. His survival is something that happens in movies, not to him and not in real life, but the facts are there and he can't refute them so he does lose his mind a bit about it before he finally calms down.

So I headcanon that the first couple of days he stayed in the hospital and the others he stayed at home to get time to process everything before going back to work to be warmly welcomed back by his teammates and the proxy.

I bet he had a long talk about his doctor about how to proceed forward since his miraculous brush with death, like should they change his prescription, should he takes more or less pills, should he probably retire, should he takes a long vacation, and probably wanted to be tested for everything thrice just to be sure that there would be no surprises.

You're not gonna make me believe he was just fine after almost dying, he probably really was scared out of his mind afterwhat and only pulled through after much reassurances from the doctors that he was doing fine for now and that he could relax.

I mean, in his place I would be scared beyond belief as well, given the situation.

I should probably try to make a fic about it, unless someone else wants to do it, feel free to ask if you want it I'll happily let you have it first come first served.

[dreamsofbroflovski]

yo…hear me out..

what the main four or others (as long as kyles in it..) are like for new years celebrations!

happy 2025 yall. let’s cook.

oh look its kyle bufflobster on that gif. my personal enemy.

Happy 2025!!! Hope everyone's having a great time already! As for me, I managed to drink cider that's been expired since 2021. It's going swell.

My first request for headcanons! I don't even know if I did these right, but I really did rack my brain. I also added some words about how they'd be with the reader because why not.

MAIN FOUR HEADCANONS - NEW YEAR'S CELEBRATIONS

𓆩♡𓆪 STAN MARSH

First thing that needs to be said: this man is pissed off days in advance over fireworks - if he has any pets, he has to make absolutely sure they’re safe and secure before anything else. He’s that guy who’s very vocal about how bad they are for animals (doesn’t really mention their effects on people), has probably tried to get them banned completely at some point.

Now that that’s out of the way. I think he’s the type to stay holed up in his home, order takeout and treat it as just another evening. 

With the exception that he’ll have an excuse to drink a whole lot of cheap champagne without anyone being up his ass about it.

Avoids his family altogether, mostly due to his father wanting to go absolutely wild on the holiday, he needs to be far away from all that.

He’s not opposed to attending a party and being around his friends, but will not actively seek that out.

And if he’s partying, he’s gonna go blackout drunk and probably miss the actual turn of the year - only to try and drunkenly state his well wishes (or personal grievances) to everyone half an hour later when the whole thing has pretty much died down.

Thumbs up reacts to everyone’s texts on the afternoon of Jan 1st; no real response.

No resolutions at all. There’s no point - at the end of the day, the new year is just a continuation of everything that has been going on in his life. If he has to achieve anything, he’ll do so of his own accord, making a promise is just putting unnecessary weight on his own shoulders.

If he’s with you, however… He can be a little better and put more effort into it, because he sees how excited you are and doesn’t wanna burst your bubble.

Will do whatever you wanna do, but has a high preference for it just being the two of you somewhere isolated, with some food and music and the aforementioned champagne (which he drinks a lot less of if you’re present)

Will pull you into a kiss right as the fireworks start and try to keep you distracted for the duration, both because he wants to be as close to you as possible in that moment and also so that he can ignore the things entirely.

Will tell you all about how he loves you and how you’re the best thing that’s happened to him. Even if he sounds drunk, you know he means all of it entirely.

𓆩♡𓆪 KYLE BROFLOVSKI

He’s probably nothing special on NYE. Probably also stays at home, but not isolated.

Jewish New Year isn’t on Dec 31st, but I still think his parents do a little something, like some nice dinner or a reunion with extended family members or friends.

If he finds himself at some party, he’s pretty well-behaved even there. I don’t see him raising hell - however, if anyone stresses him out, he’ll fight like it’s any other old day.

Is the one fucker who brought the expensive champagne that no one can recognize the name of - which got the same treatment as the other cheap ones from the supermarket.

I do unfortunately see him in the position of designated driver. Someone has to make sure his dumbass friends don’t kill themselves on the road. That doesn’t mean he’s ever happy about it, though.

Watches people partake in superstitions, but doesn’t do any of them himself.

Sends ‘Happy New Year’ texts to almost everyone he knows as soon as midnight rolls over.

Makes resolutions and sticks to them - writes them, pins them to the wall, the whole nine yards. Morning of Jan 1st he’s already making detailed plans about how he’s going to achieve everything he said he would that year (whether those plans actually succeed is a whole different animal)

If he’s with you… He absolutely tries to make it a special night, despite it meaning little to him in a superstitious sense.

He’s also in the position where your plans are his plans, he’ll follow you. However, if you do accept to spend NYE with his family and him the whole time, it sends his heart soaring because he knows that you’re choosing him above all the other stuff you could be doing, and he’ll make sure you have a great time even if his family is… difficult.

Brings you into a soft and tender kiss as the new year rolls over, holding you close as you both share a toast of champagne and sort of ignore the first fireworks in favor of being with each other.

At the top of his resolution list is the mission to make your year the best it can possibly be, and to love you through all of it. He hasn’t really written that down on his list, though - because it’s on his mind 24/7 anyway.

𓆩♡𓆪 ERIC CARTMAN

Leaves his mother alone - he’s at a party somewhere, for sure. Even if he was invited to none, he’ll sneak his way in. Since no one really has it in them to argue with him on NYE, he gets to stay.

Which shouldn’t even be a bad thing, because he actually brings the heat; he shows up with several beverages and food every time. The part of it that sucks is the fact that everything he brings is for his consumption, so he’s still an expense to the host.

He can, however, legitimately be trusted with the aux. Actual decent taste when it comes to party music.

That one guy making jokes about how he ‘hasn’t showered since last year’ or shit. Except he says them at 10pm still on Dec 31st and no one’s sure if he’s just stupid or if it’s really true.

Wears party accessories ironically; possibly brought them.

Buys whole boxes of fireworks. He’ll try to find some poor soul to do the work of lighting them up for him, but normally can’t, so he does it himself and probably needs to be taken to the hospital from the burns or sets fire to something else entirely.

Makes posts and stories on social media wishing a half-assed Happy New Year to ‘everyone’ - when in reality he got maybe like, two texts at most. (Butters and his mom, most likely)

Strangely superstitious? People will see him go through all the possible traditions that anyone said would bring him good fortune. If anyone asks him about it, he’ll deny deny deny - actually, he’s wearing full white ‘because it’s drip’ and eating those grapes under the table ‘because he doesn’t want to share them’, it’s definitely not that he fears for his own luck if he doesn’t do so.

Since he is a little ‘stitious, that does mean he makes resolutions. And they’re usually grandiose, full of bullshit, and don’t really signify any relevant positive change for his life - it’s mostly just material and physical gratification. Needless to say, they’ve never come to fruition.

If he’s with you, barely anything changes, really.

Talks to you about his plans for the evening as if they’re a done deal. Basically drags you to whatever it is he wants to do. (You might even be the reason he’s able to get into a party to begin with)

Doesn’t kiss you straight away because he’s busy with his fireworks, but if he manages to not hurt himself, you get a heavy makeout session afterwards.

He talks mad shit about how you’re lucky to have him and how you should thank him for spending this time with you, but in reality, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Immensely grateful for your presence in his life and willing to do anything to keep it that way. However, you won’t hear a single word about it.

𓆩♡𓆪 KENNY MCCORMICK

Out of his house by sundown - the addicts around him don’t really need a special occasion for doing their shit and stirring trouble, but it still seems to worsen on the holidays, so he wants to avoid that.

The protection Stan feels towards animals, he feels towards his siblings. Before he goes do anything else, he has to make sure they’re accounted for, with their friends somewhere safe where they can enjoy the night.

When that’s dealt with, it’s party time. He does get invited to stuff, and tries his best to not show up empty-handed, even if it’s just a bottle of cheap alcohol. He might still fail in that regard, though, but it’s okay, we still love him.

Wears all the ridiculous party accessories unironically.

Has died, more than once, due to firework-related accidents. Still enjoys watching them, albeit from a very safe distance now.

Watches the ball drop livestream on the television with great interest, even if just because it’s in HD this time. Celebrates heavily when it finally happens.

His ‘Happy New Year’ texts come in the afternoon, because he’s always too wasted in the morning to tell anyone anything. People might receive a drunken nonsensical jumble of letters at midnight, though.

Says surface-level words about a resolution or two, but it’s mostly really simple stuff. Also doesn’t really hold any of that to heart, because he knows of his own bad luck.

Doing the absolute most for a new year’s kiss (or several), practically on his knees begging for it.

However, if he’s with you… You’re getting way more than a kiss. It doesn’t even matter where y’all are, he’s starting the year by doing his favorite thing with his favorite person.

He kinda drags you into his plans, but it’s not in a selfish way like Cartman does. He just wants to make sure the both of you have a great time.

If you turn out to invite him personally to spend time with your family or just yourself, words cannot describe how happy he’s gonna be. It’ll basically make his whole year. He’ll ditch any party for that.

Partying all night with his baby, watching the fireworks, making love and not having to worry about anything else? Count this dude in.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[dcggersedge]

It's easy to claim you're not lying. Yunaka knows this better than anyone, dropping lie after lie to those she cared about, just for the chance she might deserve to stay with them. Is she supposed to believe Edelgard just because she says so?

There's a brief moment where the conversation hangs as Yunaka registers what Edelgard says. For a brief moment, she just stares, face blank and silent. Then, she breaks into laughter. It isn't meant to be cruel, but it wouldn't surprise her if it was to Edelgard.

"Go ahead!" She flashes a bright grin. "You can tell 'em, if you want. But I already told my king and prince." She shrugs, as if it's funny. As if it's all a joke. As if half the people she told aren't missing and potentially dead right now. "So anyone important that you could tell kind of already knows about it."

The Brodians. Alear. Rafal knows enough. Even Griss knows, wherever the hell he is. There's a few people she could still tell...but could Edelgard sniff them out before Yunaka spilled her beans?

"So," the smile drops. "I don't care if you talk, but you still care if I do. You say you didn't do this, but you've got no way of proving otherwise." What kind of game is this, leaving it to her to solve this mystery. Was it an excuse? A way to waste her time until the next phase of her plan?

...if she kills Edelgard here and she's wrong, she gets nothing out of it. And if she kills Edelgard here and she's right, she still has to convince everyone else. Yunaka closes her eyes and sighs.

"You better hope then that we find something soon." She takes a step back. Her eyes stay trained on Edelgard the whole time she backs away. She doesn't need to make the same threat again. Her intention is clear enough.

"Go see a healer and make sure you're alright." Her voice raises to a volume where others nearby might overhear them; the conversation is over. Yunaka stands her ground, waiting and watching for the student to leave first.

"Is this your doing?"

She's too tired and sore to care about whatever threats Edelgard's retainer might try and throw her way. The minute she finds her, Yunaka grabs her by the shoulder and pushes her somewhere quiet, somewhere where they hopefully won't be seen by anyone who wants to intervene.

Her voice comes out in a furious hiss as she glares at the Emperor. "Is this your big plan? The war you wanted to stop the church?"

She said they wouldn't be hurt. And like a fucking idiot, Yunaka believed her at her word.

Rage and fury makes her hands shake. She clenches them tightly at her sides. "You said that nobody from Elyos would get hurt." She snarls. "If anything has happened to them...I'll be the one to pay it back myself, do you understand me?"

The moment Yunaka ushered her aside, she knew what would follow. It made sense, certainly— That, after indulging a secret as large as she did, the events to follow only seemed to align with sheer chaos and crimson flames engulfing all they once knew. She isn't oblivious to this reasoning. Even so, she will not take the fall. "No," she says in a harsh whisper. "You're mistaken."

For as frustrated as Edelgard is, all she can do is hope to sew the truth in a world tainted by lies; one that Yunaka may hope to understand.

"Recall the situation we find ourselves in." She keeps her words level; spoken in a hissed declaration than sentences for only her to hear. "If I was the one who caused this, would it not be foolish of me to stand here with everyone else? That only invites trouble, does it not?"

"Besides." Her eyes drop towards the professor's shaken fists, keeping distance between the two. "To accuse myself is to say the Empire is capable of all those foes and more that have stood in our way. Do you truly believe this? " But she knows who wants ribbons of doubt shredded apart. Who else holds a seed of hatred towards the church, sewn so deep that they continue to hide and manipulate from their well obscured shadows. She could tell Yunaka. Surely, that may ease the tension. Or, it may only make the grandiose story only stranger.

Her arms cross. "If anyone from Elyos found themselves injured, it is not because of myself. Taking revenge on me wouldn't grant you what you seek. Direct that anger elsewhere." A breath. "The best course of action you can take is abiding by my words. I don't expect you to believe me. I hardly even anticipate anything I say to be taken with heart. Even so, remember this— I will prove to you. The war you're thinking of.. It has yet to begin."

[allagashed]

that one part in the book primal fear where aaron’s helping molly with the video camera and she asks how he’s so good with them and he tells her that it’s because of archbishop rushman… i’m going to be sick

[puppppppppy]

if escape rooms as team building exercises became popular im not sure if id be more excited or terrified

[xiii-e]

//ooc posting: I NEED to find more fun/silly things to do with my two they are Not meant to be all agony all the time I swear- I just have a penchant for the dramatic and they're a little in the torment nexus o(-< but on god they will Have Fun too

[liferetainsitssparkle]

OH YEAH yesterday at work my dept manager told me the guy who worked inventory last summer while online orders didnt have hours (insane because that dept is always absolutely choked with work) is coming back to us bc orders dont have hours again but im STILL on eight hour weeks it is 100% personal my store managers are all fucking babies who won't just fire me already

[citizen-zero]

WIBTA for taking advantage of my boss’ possible manic episode?

I know this already sounds bad but hear me out.

So I (30M) am the sole employee of this guy (62M) who’s honestly just a miserable boss and an even more miserable person. It sucks so bad working for him—the pay is horrendous, he’s verbally abusive, and the working conditions are awful (in the winter I literally have to stay bundled up the whole work day because he refuses to put the heat on in the office). He wouldn’t even give me holidays off if it wasn’t for the fact that there’s basically nothing to do those days because everywhere else is closed. I’m almost positive he unironically thinks poor people should die if they can’t work. His nephew (aka his only living relative and just the nicest guy) came by yesterday to invite him to Christmas dinner and he told him he’d see him in hell.

I cannot stress this enough—it’s BAD. I’d quit, but it’s been hard finding a better job and I’ve got four kids at home, including one with special needs.

Anyway, so here’s where I’m wondering if I’d be the asshole. Today was Christmas Day and he showed up at my house out of nowhere (huge red flag, I know). At first I thought he’d forgotten I had the day off and he was here to chew me out, which was worrying enough, but then his whole demeanor changed and he was super happy and excited and talking about how he was going to raise my salary. He even mentioned possibly making me a partner in the firm.

Now if that was it, I’d feel a little weird about the suddenness of it but it’d be fine. I’m not going to complain about having more money to feed my family. But then he started talking about how he wanted to pay our mortgage off. He talked about wanting to pay for our son to get the very expensive medical care that’s probably going to save his life. He mentioned at one point that he was going to be donating a huge amount of money to charity too—I knew he was rich but it staggered me. All this from a guy who doesn’t (didn’t?) even want to turn on the heat or the lights because it costs too much money.

It was such a sudden and drastic change that happened very literally overnight and now I’m kind of concerned he’s having a manic episode or something. I really, really want to accept his sudden generosity (I probably will; my wife is all for it and thinks he owes it to us), and I would love to believe that he’s truly had a sudden change of heart (an actual Christmas miracle lol) but I’m just worried about the possible consequences of accepting huge financial gifts like this from someone who I believe might be experiencing some kind of break from reality. Even if there’s nothing legally wrong with it, I’m worried about the ethics of it.

TLDR, my asshole boss might be in the middle of a mental breakdown. WIBTA if I accepted his offer to pay off my mortgage and my son’s medical expenses?

[celiababy]

Ain't Right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You have a major (borderline obsessive) crush on Joel, and you're on a mission to fuck him.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, cum eating, name calling, kinda mean Joel, alcohol, vomiting, an extremely brief mention of suicide

Disclaimer: I lowkey don't know the logistics of the show so if some things are wrong please look over it I'm just trying to write smut about Joel Miller godbless.

Ain't Right part 2

Ever since that tortured old man showed up in Jackson, your life hasn't been the same.

Tommy's older brother, and your absolute undoing.

When Joel Miller rode into town, it was like everything suddenly made sense. The skies got clearer, the air smelled better, and the birds even chirped their love songs louder.

Everything about him drew you in; his cold demeanor, stoic face, tired eyes—but gentle around those he cared about, which was only a few select people.

And you certainly were not one of those select people.

Joel didn't know what to think about you.

To him, you were odd. Yes, you were undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in Jackson, but he felt distance between the two of you was essential.

He felt this way because he knew.

Joel wasn't oblivious to your stares; he might've been an old man, but he remembered the laws of attraction fairly well.

He didn't like the thought of you liking him.

You were young, attractive, and had plenty of age-appropriate prospects just begging for your attention. Every boy in Jackson wanted a piece of you—but you only had eyes for Joel.

He was getting old and tired, ain't no reason why you should be so fond over him.

He also didn't like that you made your attraction so obvious. It made people whisper, and Joel about had enough teasing from Tommy.

"You gonna let that young thing jump your bones or what, Joel?" Is an example of the few things his brother would chirp at him whenever you were around and had eyes on him like he was a target.

So, all things considered, it's no surprise when Joel is reluctant to make a supply run with you.

You had begged Tommy to let you go out and finally start pulling your weight, carefully adding that Joel would be a great teacher for a first timer like yourself.

You stand near the truck, squeezing the straps of your backpack while watching Joel and Tommy whisper to themselves a couple feet away.

"You can't find anyone else?" Joel growls lowly, narrowing his eyes at his insufferable brother who he’d really like to strangle right now.

"Are you seriously scared of a twenty year old girl, Joel?" Tommy asked exasperatedly, throwing his arm out in disbelief. "It'll take two hours tops, what the hell are you so scared of?" Joel is exhaling through his nose, dragging a hand down his jaw in complete disgruntlement.

"You know what the hell I'm scared of Tommy—goddammit," He gets in his brother’s face before realizing you’re still watching them.

He takes a moment to back up and calm down, breathing out through his nose.

"I do not need this town thinkin' I am encouraging this girls...feelin's." He murmurs lowly.

Tommy rolls his eyes before shoving Joel's backpack into his chest.

"Just don't fuck her, Joel. How hard could it be?"

Joel watches as Tommy turns his back and walks away, leaving just you and him.

Joel had spent a lot of time making sure he was never in a situation alone with you—now he was about to be your unsupervised mentor.

He feels a groan try and crawl its way out his throat, but he pushes it down.

He starts walking to the truck, not even looking at you as he passes and yanks the driver side door open with more force than necessary.

"Let's make this quick." He grunts out, climbing inside.

You do the same, only with a little bit more enthusiasm. ***

The trip is a complete bust.

Joel barely paid you any attention, no matter how many flirty gestures you made at him.

You'd say something remotely suggestive and he'd either glare at you, or just flat out ignore you.

But you were relentless. Giving up on him wasn't in the cards for you, no matter how many judgmental looks he casted your way.

You guys had been driving back to town for around five minutes; Joel has kept his eyes firmly on the road in fear of you sparking a conversation with him.

But you do anyways.

You turn your body to face him in the bench seat, your eyes cascading down his breath-taking side profile.

You zoned in on the gray patches of his beard, and how his face had the remnants of a long, unforgiving life weaved into his wrinkles and scars.

You're momentarily rendered speechless by his looks before he side-eyes you.

"What?" He huffs out, not being able to handle your intense stare any longer.

"Why not?"

A beat.

"What?" He asks again, his brows furrowing together, an annoyed and confused expression painting his features.

"Why won't you fuck me?"

Joel physically winces at your language, scoffing in what looks to be disgust as he starts shaking his head.

"We're not starting this." He snaps firmly, a tone in his voice that you haven't heard before.

Completely disregarding his words, you start.

"Is it because I'm not pretty enough?" Joel groans out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Is it because there's someone else?" He's close to snapping. "Is it because you can't get it up? I heard thats a problem with guys your age-"

Joel slams on the brakes, sending you lurching forward. He shoves the truck into park before turning to face you, a scary look on his face.

"I am not going to fuck you--Christ almighty," Joel raises his voice at you.

You're staring at him, wide eyes and lips parted in surprise. You weren't really expecting this.

"you're bustin' my fuckin' balls, Look kid," He starts up again, this time with a softer tone. "M'about 40 years too old for you-"

You cut him off with a murmur. "36, I did the math."

"Same damn thing," he snaps, shaking his head. "Point is—you don't needa be wastin' your time with me; there are plenty boys your age that will satisfy your...you."

You scoff in his face but try to disguise it by clearing your throat.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Joel," You start, a sad smile spreading across your lips. "S'just sex." You say with a shrug, blush coating your cheeks because now your mind is imagining sex with him.

He stays silent and looks away from you, closing his eyes like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

That urges you to say more.

"I won't tell anyone," You're practically whispering, looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me."

Joel's heart cinches in his chest at your words, mostly because he can tell you're being so genuine.

Why the hell did you like him so much? He just couldn’t understand it.

But he can't entertain this any longer because he knows if he did, he'd give into you.

"I don't wanna hear another goddamn word outta your mouth." Joel says in a strikingly even and calm tone, putting the truck into drive and continuing back.

He's eerily silent, and so is the rest of the trip because you're too dejected to speak.

Eventually, you both arrive home and you're fast to get out of the truck.

You slam the door and keep your head down as you walk away, snow crunching beneath your boots.

Joel takes his time, watching you storm off with tired eyes.

He feels bad for being so rough on you, but he figured it was the only way to get you to stop liking him.

Tommy walks up, a concerned look on his face as he looks back between you and Joel.

"Guessin' you didn't fuck her."

***

Nobody had seen you in days.

The pain of rejection had you in a mental place that you had never experienced before.

No one has ever denied you—ever.

The situation was 100x worse considering you actually liked Joel, and he wasn't just another toy to play with.

Joel figured his life would get easier with you not around, and it kinda did in some aspects.

But he couldn't stop the gnawing feeling of guilt slowly eating at him like a parasite.

He'd been cruel to you in the way he went about things, and he felt bad.

Had he really broken your heart? He didn't know you liked him that much.

He sits in his living room, contemplating how to go about this entirely fucked up situation.

He debates making amends with you, apologizing and rejecting you again but in a gentler way.

He deliberates on his plan of action while nursing a glass of whiskey before he's interrupted by three bangs on his front door, followed by a screeching: "JOEL"

He mutters a 'what the fuck' under his breath, walking to the door and picking his 9mil up on the way.

His eyes widen when he sees you-standing there in all your glory.

It's the middle of winter and snowing like hell, yet you're wearing shorts and a tank top with a beer bottle in your hand.

"Jesus, kid-what the fuck," Joel ushers you inside quickly, taking his big jacket off the coatrack and draping it over you.

He also tosses his gun to the side, obviously you were no threat.

"You tryin' to get frostbit? Christ," he's swearing and muttering profanities as he guides you over to the couch, now basically swaddling you in blankets.

You've never been inside his house before, only ever walked passed it a few times. It smells like him.

You, however, smell like alcohol and bad decisions.

Joel picked up on how drunk you were the minute you stumbled through the door. He takes the bottle from your hand and sets it aside somewhere, glaring at you like how a mad parent would.

"The hell are you doin' out in the snow like that? Fuckin' death wish or somethin'?"

His words are kinda fuzzy in your ears, you're so drunk that you barely even register them.

An unprompted giggle spills from your lips as you shake your head at him.

"It's not snowing silly," You chide, making him out to be an idiot when, in actuality, it's a damn blizzard outside.

He knows from that statement alone that you are way off your rocker tonight.

"How much have ya had to drink, kid?" Joel asks, raking a hand through his graying hair.

"Don't call me kid," You snap, a quick flash of anger in your expression. "M'not a kid."

Joel rolls his eyes so hard that he probably caused a tsunami on the other side of the world.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. What are you doin’ here?” He asks exasperatedly, dragging a hand down his jaw while looking at your trembling figure.

There’s a long pause before you answer. You just got distracted by his big brown eyes.

“Jus’ wanted to say hi.” You murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from his face.

“Say hi?” He reiterates, looking at you like you’ve actually lost your mind.

You probably have.

After a moment, Joel can’t help but chuckle in disbelief, letting his body lean back against the couch.

The absurdity of it all turned humorous to him.

Here you are, sitting in his living room, practically nude with only his coat and blankets protecting your modesty, having just trekked through the snow all for what? To say hey?

You’re still sitting there, motionless and trying to remember how to breathe because his laughing face has your heart lighting off fireworks.

“Fuckin’ hell—hi.” Is all he says, turning his head to the side to look at you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You smile like a dope at him, so extremely happy to be there in his company.

But the alcohol in your system is fighting you, and you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

“S’it cool if I say the nigh?” You slur, falling vertically on the couch, your head crashing onto Joel’s thigh.

You nuzzle your cheek against the fabric of his jeans and Joel is just about to gently push you off, but he stops himself.

You look so comfortable and so at peace that Joel can’t do anything except stare at you.

Your cheek is slightly smushed, your lips are parted, your eyes are shut and don’t plan on opening—it’s insane to him how at home you looked.

Like you belonged here, head rested on his lap.

Fuck.

He was fucked this time.

He doesn’t move you. Instead, he fixes the blankets on top of you so you’re fully covered, and sits there with you the entire night.

He’s really gone soft.

***

When morning comes, you’re first to wake up, accompanied by a splitting headache.

You don’t even notice how Joel’s hand had fallen onto your waist some time during the night because you’re too busy making a b-line for the bathroom.

You chuck your guts up into the toliet, clutching the porcelain and groaning out in pain.

Joel wakes up to the sound of your hurling, momentarily disoriented before he remembers last nights events.

He’s quick to come to your aid in the bathroom, wasting no time gathering your hair in his fist to get it out of your face.

"S'right, get it all out," He murmurs out encouragingly, seemingly unfazed by the disheveled sight of you.

You’re too sick to be embarrassed, that’ll come later surely.

He sits on the wall of the tub as he continues holding your hair back, yawning every now and then like this was just a regular Tuesday morning.

Eventually, by the mercy of God, you get it all out of your system and slump up against the wall.

“M’sorry,” You immediately apologize, figuring that is the only right move in this situation.

“Don’t be. Been through plenty'a that in my day.”

His words are uncharacteristically reassuring and you find yourself taken back by them.

You soon realize this is probably just the hazy morning Joel, the Joel where he isn't worried about anything except coffee and breakfast—like everything wrong in his life is put on the back burner for this short minute in time.

“I’ll get you some water and Advil, sit tight.” He grunts before standing up on his feet, knees popping as he walks out.

You watch as he leaves, wiping the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Aside from the vomit part, you could get used to this.

You've never seen him so...domestic. His hair was all messy, his voice was raspy, he had that morning haze over his features that you felt so honored to witness.

You suddenly felt compelled to look at your own appearance, hopping to your feet and looking in the dirty mirror.

You resist the urge to audibly gasp at your reflection, opting for a disgusted look instead.

Your hair is a rats nest, your clothes are a mess, and your mascara has rubbed off in black smudge all over the skin around your eyes.

In a desperate attempt to look at least semi-presentable, you wash your face with water and comb through your hair with your fingers.

The idea that Joel had seen you looking like that was making your stomach churn again.

Before you can grovel about it any longer, he rounds the corner with a glass of water and little brown pills in his hand.

“Here,” He says softly, handing you the water and tilting the pills into your open palm. “Take these ‘n drink all that water and ya should get to feelin’ better.”

You do as he says, swallowing the Advil in one go before taking a big sip to wash it down.

His eyes drift down to your shoulder, where your tank top strap has fallen. No doubt from all that vigorous throwing up you were doing moments ago.

Without thinking, his fingers graze your forearm before bringing the strap back up to its correct position, clearing his throat in the process.

A beat of silence falls over the both of you.

You’re gobsmacked by the complete nonchalance of his touch, staring at him with your mouth slightly open in shock.

“What?” He asks defensively, his tone pointed.

You look between him and your shoulder strap, then slowly move to set your water down.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck?”

“Goddammit—” Joels cursing before you can even finish saying the last word in your sentence.

He turns away from you, probably the fastest you’ve seen anyone turn in their life, and walks towards his room with an accelerating pace.

He shakes his head in disbelief all the way down the hall, pivoting on his heel to duck into his bedroom.

You follow him, not really fazed by how he completely refused to answer your question, though you didn’t think he would anyway.

Before you can step foot into the threshold of his room, Joel walks out, causing you to back up.

He shoves a stack of clothes in your direction, looking down at you with a frustrated face. “Put these clothes on and go home.”

You look down, realizing he was letting you borrow a sweater and jeans of his so you didn’t die walking back to your house from the cold.

Your heart warms at this thoughtfulness.

Without wasting any time, you take the clothes from his hands, smiling happily. “Can I keep them?”

“Why the hell would you wanna keep my clothes?” He’s got that confused/angry look on his face as he asks, and you have to suppress a giggle at the sight of it.

You bring the pieces of fabric up to your nose and inhale, humming as you breathe out again. “They smell like you.”

“Christ,” Joel beings his hands up to rub at his eyes. “Fine, do whatever. Just hurry up and change, jesus,"

Ever the tease, you set down his clothes and begin to lift your tank top like you planned to change right in front of him.

Joel's hands shoot out to stop you, a 'don't try me,' look on his face.

"Put them on over your clothes," Joel says sternly, watching the way you sigh because you weren't fast enough in lifting your tank top off.

However, you sieze the opportunity in front of you.

Joel's hands are holding yours down, so you work to intertwine your fingers, invading his space by stepping forward.

"Or, you could take my clothes off," You purr, your chest now flush with his torso.

Joel exhales through his nose, his jaw clenching as he tried deciding how he was going to get out of this situation.

But then he paused.

Looking down at you now, so eager and wide eyed, made him wonder.

If he fucked you, and made you realize it wasn't what you were probably imagining in your head, maybe then you'd finally leave him alone.

He would just...pretend to be awful at sex.

(Even though it had been so long and he wasn't sure if he'd actually need to 'pretend' anymore.)

There's a long silence that drags out between the both of you.

Your stomach is doing flips because it's looking like he's finally going to agree.

His resolve cracks and Joel can't do anything but sigh in defeat.

Slowly, Joel pulls you back into his room, closing the door behind you both.

Time is moving in slow motion.

You can't believe it's finally happening.

He guides you back until the back of your knees hit his bed, prompting you to sit down on it.

"I'm only going to do this once," Joel's voice is uncharacteristically low and calm, and it has your core tightening.

You nod in acknowledgement, waiting to see what he's going to do next.

With care, he pushes your shoulder down so you're laying on your back. "Are you sure you want this?" He asks, brown eyes searching yours.

"Have I not made it obvious?" You quip, a giggle following shortly after.

Joel only shakes his head before his fingers latch around the fabric of your shorts, pulling them down and off your legs.

"S'pose you have." He murmurs, scratching the back of his neck.

You're vibrating with excitement and you repeat what you tried earlier, only this time succeeding with taking your top off.

Of course, you're not wearing a bra.

Joel realizes in that moment that he bit off way more than he could chew.

He hasn't seen breast that weren't on a soggy piece of paper in at least a few years, and yours--well, his cock stood no chance.

You hear him swallow, watching as he can't seem to stop staring at your chest.

Realizing that he might need a little encouragement to start speeding things along, you smile up at him and whisper, "touch me Joel".

Yeah, screw this. His plan of pretending to be bad was now entirely forgotten—he was going to do what he wanted, so help him god.

He huffs out a curse before sliding a hand up your torso, stopping once he's fully cupped one of your breasts in one hand. He kneads it like dough while using his other hand to disappear under your panties.

A choked moan erupts from your lips once you feel his fingers brush along your clit, rubbing around and spreading your slick around all too slowly.

"haven't even done anythin' yet and you're already fuckin' soaked..." He murmurs really to just himself, his eyes casting down to watch as he rips your underwear off impatiently.

"M'always like this whenever you're around," you mewl to spur him on, spreading your legs wider.

"Oh you are, huh?" Joel repeats back, the tiniest bit of cruelty in his tone that makes you shiver.

You nod, bucking your hips into his hand desperately.

"don't get why you like an old man like me, s'gross." His tone is flat but it's clear he's teasing by the way he curls his fingers inside of you. He's not really expecting a response, but you feel compelled.

You lurch forward, gasping at the feeling. "I really like you," You rush out breathlessly. "I'd do anything you wanted me to." You say earnestly as you stare into his eyes, loving what you're seeing.

Joel remembers when you told him that the first time, his heart cinching the same way it did then.

Joel is at war with himself. One side of him is screaming that this whole situation is fucked up and he is better off without you.

Another part of him thinks that this is the most he’s ever felt in a long time. And he doesn't want to lose it.

You can see the gears turning in his head. His fingers have slipped from you and you wince at the loss.

Slowly, you sit up. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your nipples pressing into his shirt.

He's confused and momentarily panicked when your faces get so close together, his hands seeking purchase on your hips.

In an unexpected move, you rake your hands through the side of his hair, looking lovingly at his face.

"I just wanna be someone for you," You murmur, your face breaking a little as Joel's resolve also cracks. "Doesn't matter what. I'm very versatile." You mumble the last part to try and lighten the mood.

Joel just stares at you—something swimming behind his eyes that you can't quite place.

Eventually, he crashes his forehead against yours, sighing out.

"You're makin' this fuckin' impossible." He rasps before kissing you with a passion you've never felt before.

You feel victorious.

He's finally given in to you.

Eagerly, you kiss back, wrapping your legs around his torso and grinding your bare cunt against the bulge in his jeans.

"Then stop trying so hard to get rid of me," You sigh out, chasing his lips even as you're trying to speak.

He groans and you catch it in your mouth, the pressure on his clothed cock making him dizzy.

“Fuck,” He’s quick to unbuckle his belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it somewhere on the floor. “Lay back.” He demands and you immediately follow suit.

He's never been that...assertive with you before. It makes you tingle all over.

He looks starved as he peers down at you, specifically your cunt.

He literally can’t tear his eyes off your sex—he only looks up to your gaze when you let out an impatient whine.

He rips down his pants, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

Now you can’t tear your eyes away from his sex.

You’ve only dreamt it so many times, but now that it’s finally in front of you—it all just feels surreal.

It’s better than you imagined, perfect.

“I don’t have a—”

You know what he’s about to say so you cut him off immediately. “S’okay, like it raw. Closer to you that way.” You murmur.

Joel looks physically pained that he’s not inside you right now. For some reason, you just know all the right things to say.

“Closer to me?” He huffs out, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to the edge of the bed where he stood.

Now your cunt is flush with the base of his member and the sensation drives you both insane. “You’re fuckin’ insane.”

Joel rasps, but the way he says it reveals just how far he’s fallen. He knows you’re crazy, and yet here he is, balancing you out.

He glides his member back and forth against your folds, gathering up your wetness with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

He looks so concentrated—meanwhile you’re writhing with pleasure and impatience. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs to himself, eyes tracing all over you.

You freeze.

Joel had complimented you for the first time, and it was genuine.

He notices you stiffen and takes a moment to pause.

Your entire body erupts with goosebumps, your heart beating at exceptionally fast speeds.

He's worried for a second that something is horribly wrong.

“What?” He asks, confused at what’s got you so wound up.

Your face is flushed red as you bashfully giggle. “You called me pretty.”

Ah fuck.

Joel finds you so charming it hurts.

After he remembers how to breathe again, he rolls his eyes and clears his throat.

“I have my cock to your cunt, of course I find you pretty.”

You smile and shrug. “Still. Nice to hear.” You’re all smiles until his tip prods at your entrance, causing a gasp to leave your throat.

He continues to apply pressure with his tip and it’s driving you crazy.

“Fuck Joel—are you trying to kill me?” You whine, hips wiggling to get him in.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “Relax, m’almost there.”

Slowly, he begins pushing his way inside. His mushroom head breaches you entirely and it feels like you can hear the angels singing.

He continues forward, the stretch being mainly around the middle of his thick cock.

But you’re taking it like a champ.

Joel braces himself with hands on both sides of your torso as he bottoms out, a groan crawling its way out of his throat.

The sensation is absolutely delicious.

A little bit of pain from the stretch, but so much pleasure from the fullness.

“Joel, ohmygod you feel so good inside me.” You moan, throwing your head back.

Your hips start moving on their own, but he immediately stops you with two large hands.

“D-Don’t move—fuck.” Joel grumbles out, his face pinched together in what looked like pain.

You’re confused for a moment, thinking maybe that he might just be really into cockwarming.

But then it hits you.

“Were you gonna come?” The tone in your voice makes it seem like you’d be elated if that was the case—like the most flattering thing in the world.

Joel looks pissed that you caught on so quick.

In truth, the moment he put his tip in, he was holding back his orgasm.

Can you blame him? He’s only fucked his hand for the last couple years.

“S’been a while.” Is all he can say, his chest heaving up and down in concentration. You know he’s embarrassed, but you can’t help but smile like a dope at him.

“If you come, please do it inside, please,” you beg, reaching out for his arms that caged you in.

Joel's rational mind feels like it just touched down in looney town after hearing your begging.

He feels crazy because he liked the thought of the idea you proposed. You even see him hesitate. But then he scoffs and shakes his head.

Joel drops down closer to your face, slowly starting to rock his hips into you. "Tryin' to baby trap me, girl?" He grunts in your ear, making you moan out.

Your walls are clenching down on him, and it’s making it that much harder to hold back. “No-no, promise, just wanna be full of you." You manage to blubber out...unconvincingly.

You probably didn't really want a baby with Joel, but your lust-driven brain was working on fumes and you just wanted to do what felt good.

Joel's grunting in your ear was not helping things. His fingers were gripping your hip so hard, you figured it would probably bruise tomorrow

Good. You wanted whatever he would give you.

"Christ--m'not gonna last much longer," Joel groans, picking his head up a little to meet your gaze. He wanted to kick himself for not being able to last, but when he saw your face, all those feelings disappeared.

You looked so--perfect. Soaking up the moment in case it was the last, god you hoped it wasn't the last time. Now that you've finally had a tase of him, you weren't sure you could live without it.

Your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him firmly in your cunt. Joel notices this and also your pleading eyes, a growl leaving his throat.

"Please, please, please, please," you beg, never breaking eye contact with him as his thrusts pick up speed.

He ruins your long string with pleas with a needy kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat like a starving man.

You accept it happily, moaning out into the kiss while Joel manhandles your hips to take his cock.

The feeling is damn near euphoric for both you and him. It gets even better when Joel's hand comes down to rub at your clit again.

Your back arches off the bed as you gasp and moan out, wrapping your arms back around his shoulders. "F-Fuck!" You moan into his ear, probably drooling on his shoulder in the process. "thankyouthankyouthankyou-" you sputter out in choked sobs. He was really good at working on your clit, you couldn't do anything else but thank him for it.

Joel feels a surge of something when he hears you. He's never had a woman thank him in bed before.

It's enough to push him over the edge. And apparently you too.

"I'm gonna come Joel, please don't stop," There are pools of tears in your eyes that Joel is just now noticing. He's about to reply to you, but he finds himself speechless when he feels your cunt start constricting and fluttering around him like a vice.

"Fuck!" He groans out loudly, his hips starting to falter in their rhythm. But then he picks up speed again, and in no time he's like a madman jackhammering into you.

You're a mess of screams and cries and moans underneath him, happily taking everything he was giving you.

When Joel feels himself about to come, he notices how your legs are still tightly wrapped around him, keeping him inside, and he manages to scoff out.

"Gotta let me go baby," You've never heard that pet name from him before, and it makes you crumble. His hands move to grab at your thighs, kneading the flesh there.

You whine out but reluctantly release the grip your legs had on him. Joel doesn't waste time before hugging both your legs on his chest, keeping them firmly placed while your feet squirmed by his ear.

"Atta girl," he murmurs before picking up speed again, his cock head pressing into your cervix.

It's all too much for you. Joel looks so amazing pounding into you from above, his concentrated face, his sweat, the way his salt and pepper hair is all disheveled, you're losing your mind.

Your core is on fire and you can't stop yourself.

In a staggering turn of events, you come first.

Your walls come down like bricks on his dick, you cry out, throwing your head back in complete bliss and ecstasy.

Seeing and feeling this, Joel is quick to follow in your steps. He rips himself from that warm hole of yours and pumps himself dry onto your stomach.

You watch it all with wide eyes, you wouldn't have missed Joel's orgasm face for the world!

Of course, his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth was open as he was breathing heavily, and his eyebrows turned down like he was mad.

God he was so beautiful.

His thick ropes of cum shoot all over your stomach and even your breasts as he jerks himself off to completion.

When he finishes, he takes a moment to catch his breath, finally opening his eyes to see you scoop up his cum from your breast with your finger and shove it in your mouth.

Your tongue swirls around his seed and you swallow eagerly, humming out in satisfaction at the taste of him.

Joel's watching in complete fascination, though his expression looks a little angry. When does it not?

"taste so good," you mumble with your finger still in your mouth, looking up at him with your big eyes.

He moves before he can think about it--ripping your hand away from your lips and caging you in a slow but deep kiss.

He soon falls down beside you and soon rolls over onto his back, his chest rising and falling from the excursion.

You curl into his side, watching his side profile so intently. You had just fucked Joel Miller.

And it was everything you had dreamed of. Extreme happiness doesn't even begin to describe your feelings right now.

There's a long stretch of silence that drapes over the both of you. Eventually, Joel breaks it with something extremely off topic.

"Last night...you didn't just come here to say 'hi', did you?"

You're momentarily speechless, not expecting that question from him at all. But you can't stop a giggle from coming through your lips.

"Actually, I came to confront you." Your voice is soft as you begin speaking, thinking back to last night's ordeal.

Joel doesn't expect this answer, his head turns to look at you while you speak. His arm comes down to drape over your shoulder.

"I was really upset cus you rejected me n'all. I just couldn't accept the whole, 'age gap' excuse. I wanted to know if you just really didn't like me or not." You're murmuring, drawing soft lines with your finger on the skin of Joel's chest.

He huffs out a breath at the explanation, shaking his head. "Guess you got your answer, huh." He grumbles out, somewhat ashamed of himself that he couldn't hold back.

You smile and lean up to kiss his cheek. "I did," you chirp happily, admiring his face again. "You know you're gonna have to fuck me, like, everyday now, right?"

You're kidding. But you're also not at all.

Joel scoffs and sits up, moving to pick up both his and your shirts. "Fat chance. Barely had enough stamina for one round." He grunts out, finding the neck hole in your tank top and putting it over your head for you.

You don't bother to pull it down over your breasts so Joel does it for you.

"It's okay, we can build up your tolerance over time." You quip with a teasing smile, loving the way Joel turned to glare a you.

He couldn't believe the youth these days.