#i might already know what one but i'll have to watch it again with gifs in mind specifically to see if it'll be a nightmare or not
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lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar · 11 months ago
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harrysfolklore · 2 months ago
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misunderstood hero with a heart of gold - mv1
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summary: max verstappen has never been one to read books, but everything changes when he comes across a pretty booktuber who describes him better than anyone else did before
word count: 8.2k + social media posts
folkie radio: another one of my babies finally sees the light of day 🥹 this fic is really special and i was lowkey gatekeeping it but i feel ready to share it, plss take care of it <3 i hope you like it
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
Max Verstappen was bored.
It was late and he was alone in his hotel room. He had a race the following day and he knew better than staying up late. His team was already on his ass for sim racing at ungodly hours of the night when he had a race, but nevertheless, he was bored and not sleepy yet.
He scrolled through his phone, not really paying attention to what popped up on his Instagram feed, Tiktok for you page or Twitter timeline.
After a few minutes, his finger landed on the YouTube app, one that he barely used if he was completely honest, but for some reason he never deleted it.
A bunch of videos showed up on his main page, most of them about F1, gaming, fitness or cats. He scrolled through the thumbnails absentmindedly until one title caught his eye: "Formula 1 Drivers as Romance Book Character Tropes."
Max had no idea how that video ended up in his suggestions page. He wasn't much of a reader—he had only read two books in his entire life, for crying out loud— but curiosity got the better of him. He clicked on the video.
The screen shifted to a bright and lively setup, where a young woman with vibrant energy and a contagious smile greeted her viewers. "Hey everyone! Welcome back to my channel. Today, we have a fun video where I'll be pairing Formula 1 drivers with romance book tropes!"
Max found himself smiling for some reason, he thought she was really engaging and funny — and really pretty—. He leaned back against his pillows, more intrigued by the second.
"As some of you might already know, books are not my only passion, I'm also a huge Formula 1 fan since I was a little kid thanks to my dad, so I thought it would be fun to do a little crossover of my two obsessions."
Max grinned again, finding himself oddly invested in this unexpected combination of romance literature and Formula 1. Or maybe just mesmerized by the pretty girl who was talking on his screen.
"Let's begin with Mercedes," she said, clapping her hands together, "Lewis Hamilton is definitely our 'Charming Prince Charming.' He's got the looks, the talent, and that air of royalty about him."
Max chuckled, thinking it was a fitting description for his rival.
"Now for George Russell," she continued, "I'm going with 'The Boy Next Door Who Grew Up Hot.' I mean, have you seen his glow-up?"
Max chuckled again, nodding in agreement. George had indeed transformed quite a bit since his Williams days.
"Moving on to Ferrari," she continued enthusiastically. Max wondered if that was her favorite team on the grid, "Charles Leclerc is our classic 'Childhood Best Friend You've Always Had a Crush On.' He's got that sweet, familiar charm, but with a spark that makes your heart race every time you see him."
Max raised an eyebrow, surprised by the change in description. He had to admit, it fit Charles quite well.
"And for Carlos Sainz," she paused dramatically, "he's either our 'Older Brother's Best Friend' or the 'Bad Guy Who's Mean to Everyone but His Sweetheart', just think about it, he's got that rugged exterior, but you just know he's a total sweetheart deep down."
Max laughed, realizing she had Carlos pegged perfectly. He watched with growing interest as she continued.
"Now, let's talk about McLaren," she said with a sparkle in her eye. "Lando Norris is our 'Adorkable Comedian Who Steals Your Heart.' He's funny, relatable, and has a way of making you fall for him before you even realize it," Max grinned at the description of his good friend, "And Oscar Piastri... he's 'The Shy Genius.' Quiet, reserved, but incredibly talented and intelligent. He might not be the loudest in the room, but he's someone you'd definitely want on your side."
Max nodded in agreement, thinking of how Oscar had impressed everyone since joining McLaren. She continued pairing each driver with a character trope, she described Daniel as the "Life of the Party with a Sensitive Soul," highlighting his infectious energy and hidden depths. Pierre was dubbed the "Resilient Underdog," emphasizing his ability to bounce back from setbacks. Yuki was described as the "Fiery Spitfire with a Soft Center" and Logan was labeled the "Rookie with Untapped Potential," suggesting a character arc of growth and discovery.
With each driver's description, Max's anticipation grew. He found himself eagerly awaiting his own characterization, both curious and slightly apprehensive about how the pretty girl with an obsession with books and Formula 1 would describe him.
When she finally got to Red Bull, he sat up a little straighter, his interest piqued.
"Now for Sergio Perez," she said, "he's our 'Loyal Wingman Who Deserves His Own Happy Ending.' Always there to support, but with a story of his own waiting to be told."
Max nodded, thinking it was a pretty accurate description of his teammate.
"And finally, saved the best for last," she said, her eyes twinkling, "we have Max Verstappen."
Max held his breath, oddly nervous about how this stranger would categorize him.
"Max is our 'Misunderstood Hero with a Heart of Gold,'" she said with a warm smile. "Often perceived as cold or distant, but actually deeply caring and protective of those close to him. He's the type who shows his love through actions rather than words."
Max felt his cheeks warm significantly. This description caught him completely off guard. It wasn't the usual 'aggressive driver' or 'arrogant champion' narrative he was used to hearing. Instead, it felt... true. Uncomfortably true. He wasn't sure how to feel about being seen so accurately by a stranger.
As the video ended after she said her goodbyes, Max found himself staring at his phone screen, replaying her words in his mind, his thumb hovering over the comment section. He had never left a comment on a YouTube video before, but something about this one compelled him to break that habit.
After a moment's hesitation, he tapped the comment box and began typing, Once he was done, he paused, reading over his words. It felt strange, almost vulnerable, to acknowledge her characterization of him. But there was also something liberating about it. He added a thumbs-up emoji at the end and hit 'Post' before he could second-guess himself.
As Max set his phone down and settled into bed, a small smile played on his lips. He had a important race the following day, but all he wanted to think and dream about was the pretty stranger who had somehow seen through his carefully crafted public persona.
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liked by username1, username2 and 10,725 others
f1gossip “I went to bed early last night. Just listened to the team’s orders, you know?”
Max Verstappen for media day today, however he left a comment on a YouTube video around 2:46 am 😭
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username1 HES SOOOOO
username2 the fact that he left a comment on a BOOKTUBER’S channel MAX VERSTAPPEN YOU DONT EVEN READ BOOKS 😭
username3 he looks so pretty tho
username4 MAX WE ALL SAW YOU
username5 max was actually checking which romance trope is him according to booktubers
username6 HES SO RANDOM
username7 max’s search history: lestappen as fictional couples
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liked by username1, username2 and 102,438 others
ynreadsbooks in honor of max verstappen x3 world champion commenting on my latest video (which is insane to say out loud wtf) should i do another f1 themed video?? any suggestions?
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username1 YES QUEEN
username2 that max comment was so random but so real
username3 max verstappen, the man who has read two books in 27 years watching booktubers was not on my bingo card
username4 @/maxverstappen1 you favorite youtuber will do another video about you
username5 BOOKS WITH RACING THEMES
username6 books inspired by f1 circuits would be fun
username7 @/maxverstappen drop a suggestion
maxverstappen1 started following ynreadsbooks
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f1gossip Max Verstappen was seen outside of a bookshop in Monaco today !
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username1 BABYYYY
username2 max ??? bookshop ????
username3 WHAT SHIFTED
username4 he thought it was jimmyz
username5 HEELPP what is he doing there
username6 hello i work there. he arrived with a list of books in hand that he wanted, he bought around 15 action and fantasy books
↳ username1 FOR REAL???
↳ username2 max said book girl summer
↳ username3 this is so random
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If someone had told Max that this year he would spend his summer break reading, he would've laughed at their faces. Yet here he was, lounging by the pool in his Monaco house, a book in his hands and a smile on his face.
As he turned the page of "The Martian," the latest sci-fi recommendation from YN, Max couldn't help but reflect on how different this summer break was.
Usually, his days off were filled with lavish yacht parties, exclusive clubs, or intense training sessions and hours of sim racing to stay sharp for the second half of the season. But now, he found himself eagerly devouring books and spending hours chatting with YN about plots, characters, and everything in between.
As the weeks passed, Max found himself growing increasingly close to YN, despite never having met her in person. Their text conversations flowed effortlessly, ranging from in-depth discussions about the books they were reading to playful banter about racing and life in general.
Max was surprised by how much he enjoyed her company, even in this digital form. Her wit, intelligence, and genuine interest in his thoughts beyond his racing persona were refreshing. He found himself sharing things he rarely discussed with others, and looking forward to her messages became a highlight of his day.
He also thought she was absolutely gorgeous.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed with a new message from her.
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Max chuckled, about to reply when he heard the doorbell. He remembered Lando and Daniel were coming over for dinner. As he got up to let them in, he quickly typed a response, telling her that he would talk to her later.
"Well, well, well," Daniel's voice boomed as Max opened the door. "If it isn't the newly minted bookworm of Formula 1!"
Lando peered around Daniel's shoulder, "I half expected to find you wearing glasses and a sweater vest, mate."
"Very funny, guys. Come in," Max rolled his eyes as he stepped away from the door.
Ever since his friends noticed his brand new habit, they took it upon themselves to tease him whenever they could. As they made their way to the backyard, Daniel spotted the book on the lounger.
"The Martian?" he read, picking it up. "Isn't this a bit advanced for your reading level, Maxy?"
"Ha ha," Max deadpanned, snatching the book back. "It's actually really good. It's about this astronaut who gets stranded on Mars and has to use science and engineering to survive-"
"Whoa, whoa," Lando interrupted, holding up his hands. "Who are you and what have you done with Max Verstappen?"
Daniel draped an arm around Max's shoulders. "I think our boy here is trying to impress a certain bookish YouTuber. What was her name again? YN?"
Max felt his cheeks warm. "It's not like that. We just... talk about books and stuff."
"And stuff," Daniel repeated, wiggling his eyebrows. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
Max rolled his eyes, trying to brush off their teasing. "Seriously, it's not like that. We just have a lot in common."
Daniel and Lando exchanged knowing glances before bursting into laughter.
"Sure, mate," Daniel said, patting Max on the back. "Whatever you say."
They settled by the pool, beers in hand, and started chatting about the upcoming races and their plans for the rest of the summer. Despite the playful ribbing, Max found himself genuinely enjoying their company. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his friends.
As the evening wore on, the conversation eventually circled back to Max's books and his little friend on his phone.
"So, Max," Lando started, a mischievous glint in his eye, "have you color-coded your bookshelf yet? Or are you more of a chronological order kind of guy?"
"Nah, mate. I bet he organizes them by how many times YN has mentioned them," Daniel chimed in, "Top shelf is probably her favorites, right Maxy?"
Max felt his cheeks flush, but he couldn't help grinning. "You two are impossible."
"When are you finally going to meet her in person anyway?" Lando said, sipping from his beer.
Max shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hide the slight flutter in his chest. "I don't know. That's not something I've really thought about,"
He lied. In truth, the thought of meeting YN had crossed his mind countless times. The idea of finally seeing the girl who had captivated him with her intelligence, humor, and beauty made his heart race. He'd catch himself daydreaming about her smile, wondering if it was as warm and infectious in person as it seemed in her videos. But he wasn't ready to admit that to his friends just yet.
Lando and Daniel exchanged a look, clearly not buying Max's nonchalant act.
"Oh come on," Lando scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You expect us to believe that? You've been glued to your phone for weeks, mate."
"I bet he's already planned their first date," Daniel leaned in, "What'll it be, Max? A romantic book reading by candlelight? Or maybe a visit to the library?"
Max felt his cheeks heating up again. "It's not like that, guys. We're just friends."
"Friends who talk every day and have you blushing like a schoolgirl," Lando teased, nudging Max with his elbow.
"I do not blush like a schoolgirl," Max protested, knowing full well that his face was probably bright red by now.
"Sure, sure," Daniel said with a wink. "Just friends. So, have you at least thought about inviting her to a race? You know, show her what you do when you're not reading about Mars?"
"Why would I invite her to a race, that would be weird," Max protested again, "And she already knows what I do, she's a fan of the sport."
"Man, you're so stubborn sometimes," Lando rolled his eyes at him, "If you like this girl, why don't you invite her to a race? It could be a great way to finally meet in person."
"And who said that I liked her," once again, Max's defensive self came through.
Daniel and Lando shared an exasperated look before turning back to Max.
"Come on, mate," Daniel said, his tone gentler now. "It's pretty obvious. We've never seen you this invested in someone before. Not to mention, you're reading books voluntarily for the first time since... well, ever."
"It's written all over your face," Lando said, shaking his head. "You like her, and there's no shame in that. You light up every time your phone buzzes. It's kind of adorable, actually."
Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew his friends were right, but admitting it out loud felt like a big step. "Okay, fine. Maybe I do like her. But it's complicated, you know? We've never even met in person."
"That's exactly why you should invite her to a race," Lando insisted. "It's the perfect opportunity. She gets to see you in your element, and you get to finally meet face-to-face."
"Plus," Daniel added with a mischievous grin, "if things go well, you can always show her your trophy collection. I hear that's a great way to impress the ladies."
Max couldn't help but laugh at that. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
"Maybe," Daniel shrugged, "but I'm also right. What have you got to lose?"
Max pondered this for a moment. The idea of meeting YN in person both thrilled and terrified him. What if they didn't click in real life the way they did over text? But then again, what if they did?
"I'll think about it," Max finally conceded.
Lando and Daniel exchanged triumphant grins.
"That's our boy," Lando said, patting his back.
After a few more beers and food, Lando and Daniel left.
As the night deepened, Max found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The conversation with Lando and Daniel kept replaying in his mind. His phone sat on the nightstand, silent but somehow still demanding his attention.
Max's thoughts raced. Should he text YN? Invite her to Zandvoort? The idea made his heart beat faster. He imagined seeing her in person for the first time, wondering if her smile would be as pretty as it was in her videos. But doubt crept in too. What if things were awkward? What if the chemistry they had online didn't translate to real life?
He rolled onto his side, eyeing his phone. The urge to reach out to her was strong, as it always was. Max realized that Lando and Daniel were right - he did like her. A lot. The thought of meeting her filled him with equal parts excitement and nervousness.
Taking a deep breath, Max grabbed his phone. Before he could overthink it, he started typing.
Hey YN, hope I'm not messaging too late. I was wondering if you'd like to come to the Dutch GP at Zandvoort? It's the first race after the summer break, and my home race. Thought it might be fun if you could make it.
He hit send before he could second-guess himself. The wait for her response felt eternal. When his phone finally buzzed, Max's heart leapt.
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liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 286,375 others
ynreadsbooks this week’s video will be delayed for some ~personal reasons ☺️
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username1 GIRL
username2 ARE YOU GOING WHERE I THINK YOU’RE GOING
username3 f1 x books this is literally me
username4 hot girls support max verstappen
username5 ahh if she’s going to the gp i’ll be so happy bc she’s a huge fan
username6 the way roles reversed and now max is his fan 😭
redbullracing We can’t wait 💙
↳ username1 REDBULL???
↳ username2 AHHH THEY PROBABLY INVITED HER
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As Max headed to Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix, he felt the familiar weight of expectations settling on his shoulders.
The second half of the season loomed ahead, and the pressure to maintain his championship lead was on. He knew the team was counting on him to deliver strong results, especially at his home race where the orange-clad fans would be out in full force.
But amidst the pressure and responsibility, there was another emotion bubbling up inside him - a giddy excitement that he couldn't quite contain.
The thought of finally meeting YN in person after months of texts, calls, and shared book recommendations made his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with driving at a car at a very fast speed.
As he drove to the track, Max found himself smiling at random moments, his mind drifting to imagine what it would be like to see her smile in person, to hear her laugh without the filter of a phone call.
Max realized that for the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to a race weekend for reasons that extended beyond the track.
Unfortunately, his busy schedule kept them from meeting right away. Media commitments, team briefings, and practice sessions consumed his time, leaving him feeling frustrated and guilty for not being able to see her sooner. He sent her a quick message apologizing for the delay, promising they'd meet after qualifying.
As he made his way to the garage, a familiar voice called out behind him.
"Oi, Max! Ready for the big day?"
Max turned to see Daniel jogging up to him, his trademark grin in place.
"Yeah, should be a good quali," Max replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't talking about qualifying, mate. Your special guest arrives today, right?"
Max felt his cheeks warm. "How did you even remember that?"
"Please," Daniel scoffed. "It's all you've been talking about for weeks. So, have you met her yet?"
"No, my schedule's been packed. We're supposed to meet after quali."
"Ah, saving the best for last, eh?" Daniel's grin widened, "Smart move. Nothing like the adrenaline of a good qualifying session to make a great first impression."
"Or to completely mess it up," Max muttered.
"Hey, none of that," Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Just be yourself. She already likes you for who you are, remember?"
Max nodded, feeling a bit reassured. "Thanks, Dan."
With a deep breath, Max headed into the garage, Daniel's words echoing in his mind.
Qualifying went smoothly, with Max securing a front row start to the delight of the Dutch fans. The cheers of the home crowd were deafening as he climbed out of the car, but his mind was elsewhere.
After the post-qualifying interviews, Max sent YN a quick text letting her know that he was free now and she let him know that she was around the hospitality area.
As he walked towards there, Max spotted YN standing near one of the motorhomes, looking around with wide eyes. She hadn't seen him yet, and for a moment, Max just watched her, taking in the sight of the girl who had been on his mind for months now.
She was even more gorgeous in person than he had imagined.
Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the bustling paddock around her. The way the sunlight caught her hair, the gentle curve of her smile as she observed everything with wonder - it all took Max's breath away.
He noticed little details he couldn't have seen through a screen: the way her eyes sparkled, the subtle freckles across her nose, the graceful way she moved as she looked around.
Taking a deep breath, Max walked over, his heart pounding. "YN?"
She turned, her face lighting up with a radiant smile that made Max's breath catch. "Max! Finally!"
They moved toward each other, and without hesitation, Max pulled her into a hug. The embrace felt natural, as if they'd done this a hundred times before. He was aware of how perfectly she fit in his arms, the subtle scent of her perfume, and the warmth of her body against his.
"It's so good to finally meet you," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so sorry it took so long, this weekend's been crazy."
She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with understanding in her eyes. "It's okay, Max. That qualifying was amazing! I've never experienced anything like it."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Come on, let me show you around."
He took her hand and he was struck by how natural it felt. Her fingers intertwined with his perfectly, and a warm sensation spread from their joined hands throughout his body.
They strolled through the paddock, Max pointing out the various team motorhomes, the garages, and the media center. YN was all wide-eyed fascination, asking questions and soaking in every detail. As they walked, Max found himself relaxing more and more, his previous nerves about their chemistry being gone fading away.
As they rounded a corner, they nearly bumped into Lando Norris. Who couldn't help but smirk at the sight of their hands intertwined.
"You guys met already!" he cheerfully said, "You must be YN."
Her cheeks flushed, clearly surprised that Max had mentioned her to his friends. Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her reaction.
"Yeah, this is YN," Max said, unable to keep the smile off his face, "Meet Lando, the perpetual pain in my ass."
"Nice to finally meet the girl who's got Max reading," YN laughed, and Lando extended his hand, "Quite the accomplishment."
"Nice to meet you too, Lando," YN said, shaking his hand. "I've enjoyed watching you race, I'm a big fan. Congrats on the pole position."
"Cheers," Lando replied, then turned to Max with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, has he bored you with car talk yet, or has he actually remembered how to discuss books?"
Max rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Shouldn't you be preparing for tomorrow, Lando?"
"Alright, alright, I can take a hint," Lando chuckled. "Enjoy your tour, lovebirds!"
As Lando walked away, Max felt a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. He glanced at YN, relieved to see her smiling.
"Sorry about him," Max said, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Lando has a way of making everything awkward."
YN laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. "It's fine. He seems like fun."
They continued their walk, finally making their way to the rooftop terrace of the Red Bull hospitality area. The view was stunning, offering a panoramic look at the circuit and the sea of orange-clad fans below.
"This is incredible," YN said, leaning against the railing and taking it all in. "Thank you for showing me around, Max."
"Of course," Max said, standing beside her. "I'm really glad you could come."
They stood there for a moment, enjoying the view and each other's company. Max felt a sense of contentment wash over him, the stress of the weekend melting away in her presence.
"Max," YN said softly, turning to face him. "I know this weekend is important for you, and I don't want to be a distraction. But I'm really happy to be here and to finally meet you."
"You're not a distraction," Max replied, reaching out to take her hand again. "You're the best part of this weekend, honestly."
They shared a smile, Max was well aware of the butterflies that fluttered on his stomach and the high school girl blush his friends teased him about, but he didn't care. He felt happy with the pretty girl who had been his source of comfort for months, finally face to face.
"You know," YN said softly, "when I made that video calling you a misunderstood hero with a heart of gold, I never imagined I'd get to see it firsthand. But being here, seeing how you are with your team, with the fans… I was right about you, Max Verstappen."
Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. He had always been guarded about his public image, but hearing her perspective meant more than he could ever imagine.
"I'm glad you think so," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You know, that video... it changed things for me. Not just because it led to us talking, but because it made me reflect on a lot of things."
"Who would've thought," YN said with a smile, "When I recorded that video, I never thought you would ever see it, let alone have an impact on you and let alone lead us to talking and me being here."
"Everything happens for a reason, right?"
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liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 301,257 others
ynreadsbooks best experience ever. thank you, thank you, THANK YOU 🥺💙
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username1 OMFGGGG
username2 no one deserved this more than her for real
username3 SHE MET MAX TOO?? DESERVED
redbullracing Come back soon! 😉
username4 red bull finally inviting people who actually love the sport
username5 GIRL WE NEED A VLOGGGG
username6 omg how did this happen spiiiill
↳ ynreadsbooks let's say i got invited by the world champion
↳ username1 WTF
↳ username2 so MAX invited her not redbull help he really did become a fan after that video
danielricciardo Hope to see you around soon, love ! 👀
↳ username3 how do i sign up for this
username7 THAT PIC OF MAX IS SO BOYFRIEND CODED
maxversteppen1 Thank you so much for coming and making this day special ☺️
↳ username1 OMG MAX
↳ username2 i'd be screaming if i was her
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maxverstappen1 Enjoyed every moment in Zandvoort with this amazing atmosphere and the best company 🧡
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username1 KIIING
username2 how can a man be so babygirl
username3 all smiles even tho he finished p2
danielricciardo 🦁🦁
landonorris Simply lovely
↳ username1 menace
username4 bro who got you smiling like that
ynreadsbooks ❤️
↳ username2 biggest max girlie
↳ username3 WE NEED THAT VLOG
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When it came time for YN to leave the Netherlands, Max insisted on driving her to the airport himself. The car ride was filled with comfortable silence and soft conversation, both of them trying to stretch out their remaining time together.
Despite their short time together, Max found himself completely smitten, captivated by YN's intelligence, humor, and the way her eyes lit up when she talked about books or reacted to the thrill of the race.
He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was head over heels for her.
As they stood in the departure terminal, Max felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. He hesitated, his heart racing, but ultimately settled for a long, warm hug, breathing in her scent and committing it to memory. As he watched her walk through security, he already found himself missing her presence.
Now, a week later, Max was in Monza for the Italian Grand Prix. The day had been busy with media commitments and team meetings. Finally back in the quiet of his motorhome, Max flopped onto the couch, feeling drained but content. Without thinking, he reached for his phone and hit the FaceTime button next to YN's name.
Her smiling face appeared on the screen, and Max felt an immediate surge of warmth.
"Hey, you," she said, her voice soft and welcoming even through the phone's speakers.
"Hey," Max replied, unable to keep the grin off his face. "How's your day been?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. Editing videos, reading, missing the excitement of the paddock," YN teased. "How about you? Surviving the media circus?"
"Barely," Max groaned dramatically, "I swear, if I have to answer one more question about RedBull and their big mess, I might go mad."
YN laughed, the sound making Max's heart skip a beat. "Poor Max. Whatever shall we do to take your mind off your beloved team?"
"Well," Max said, shifting to get more comfortable, "I've been reading that new sci-fi book you recommended. 'The Martian-like Odyssey to Titan,' or whatever it's called."
"'Project Hail Mary,'" she corrected, "And? What do you think so far?"
"It's incredible!" Max's eyes lit up, "I mean, the science is fascinating, and the way the main character problem-solves is just... I don't know, it reminds me a bit of what we do in racing, you know? Constantly adapting, finding solutions on the fly."
"That's exactly why I thought you'd like it! The way Andy Weir writes about scientific problem-solving is so engaging."
They dove into an animated discussion about the book, Max marveling at how easily conversation flowed between them, how YN's passion for books was infectious. As they talked, a thought that had been brewing in Max's mind for days suddenly surfaced.
"YN," Max said, his voice softer than before. "There's actually something I've been wanting to ask you."
"Oh? What is it, Max?" she tilted her head, curiosity evident in her expression.
Max took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like he was about to qualify for a crucial race. "Well, I was wondering... have you ever been to Monaco?"
"No, actually, I haven't," YN's eyebrows raised in surprise, "It's always been on my travel wish list, though. Why do you ask?"
Max felt his heart rate pick up. He'd rehearsed this moment in his head countless times over the past few days, but now that it was here, he found himself fumbling for words.
"Well, you see, I have a two-week break coming up before the Baku GP, and I was thinking... maybe... if you're free, of course, and if you'd like to... you could come visit me in Monaco?"
The words tumbled out faster than he intended, and Max felt a blush creeping up his neck. He watched YN's face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. His mind raced with possibilities - what if she said no? What if this was too forward?
YN's eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. "Oh, Max, that's... wow. That's really sweet of you to offer."
Max, sensing a hint of hesitation, quickly added, "You could stay at my place. I have plenty of room, and it would be great to have you around. Plus I have two adorable cats that I'm sure you'd love."
YN's expression softened, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in her eyes. "That sounds amazing, Max. But… are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on your personal space or your time off."
Truth was, Max wanted to spent every free moment he had with her, but he wasn't sure how to let her know without sounding too forward or like a creep, so he just pressed on.
"You wouldn't be imposing at all, I promise. I really want us to spend more time together, away from the craziness of the race weekends. And I'd love to show you around Monaco."
He watched as YN bit her lip, considering his offer. The silence stretched for a moment, and Max found himself holding his breath.
"If you're not comfortable staying at my place," he added quickly, "I could book you a hotel room, or there are some great Airbnbs with amazing views of the harbor. Whatever makes you feel most at ease. I just… I really want to see you again."
As he spoke, Max realized just how true his words were. The thought of having YN in his space, sharing meals, exploring the city together - it filled him with a warmth he couldn't quite describe. It was more than just attraction; there was a comfort in her presence that he craved.
YN smiled, a warm look in her eyes. "You really mean that, don't you?"
"I do. Look, I know it might seem like a big ask, but I just... I can't stop thinking about how much fun we have together. And Monaco is beautiful this time of year. We could go for drives along the coast, have dinner at some amazing restaurants, or just relax by the pool if you prefer. No pressure, just... us. And well, the cats."
Max held his breath, waiting for her response. The thought of having YN in Monaco, of being able to spend uninterrupted time with her away from the pressures of the race weekend, made his heart soar. He imagined showing her his favorite spots in the city, maybe taking her out on his boat, or just lounging by the pool and talking for hours.
"Alright, Verstappen, you've convinced me. But I have one condition."
"Name it." Max grinned, relief and excitement washing over him.
"If I'm staying at your place, you have to let me cook my infamous waffles for breakfast. They're a secret family recipe, and I guarantee they'll be the best you've ever tasted."
"Deal," Max's smile widened, a burst of joy exploding in his chest. "But I warn you, I take my waffles very seriously. They better live up to the hype."
"Oh, they will. And I can't wait to meet the cats."
As they continued to chat and make plans for YN's visit, Max felt a warmth spreading through his chest. The prospect of having YN in his home, of waking up and knowing she was just in the next room, of being able to spend lazy mornings together over homemade waffles - it all seemed almost too good to be true.
He found himself imagining what it would be like to have her there. Would she curl up on his couch with a book? Would they watch the sunset from his terrace? Would he finally get the courage to kiss her?
The thought made his heart race. He remembered the moment at the airport when he had wanted so badly to kiss her goodbye. This time, he promised himself, he wouldn't let the opportunity pass by.
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The day of YN's arrival in Monaco had finally come, and Max felt like a giddy teenager preparing for his first date.
In the days leading up to YN's visit, Max had found himself unusually preoccupied with preparations. He wanted everything to be perfect for YN's stay. He'd bought new sheets for the guest bedroom, making sure they were the softest he could find. He'd stocked the fridge with an array of foods, unsure of her preferences but making sure to have options. He'd even gone so far as to buy a small collection of books he thought she might enjoy, arranging them carefully on the nightstand in her room.
The morning of her arrival, Max woke up early, his stomach a knot of excitement and nerves. He double-checked everything one last time - fresh towels in the bathroom, extra toiletries in case she forgot anything, a vase of fresh flowers on the kitchen counter to brighten up the space. He felt almost silly with how much effort he was putting in, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted everything to be perfect for the girl he was smitten with.
As the time to leave for the airport approached, Max found himself pacing, checking his watch every few minutes. He'd planned the route to the airport meticulously, factoring in potential traffic to make sure he'd be there in plenty of time. Just as he was about to grab his keys and head out, the doorbell rang.
Confused, Max paused. He wasn't expecting anyone - he'd made sure to clear his schedule completely for YN's visit. Frowning slightly, he opened the door to find Lando standing there, a wide grin on his face.
"Lando? What are you doing here?" Max asked, glancing at his watch.
"What, can't a mate drop by for a visit?" Lando replied, trying to peer past Max into the apartment. "Thought we could hang out, maybe play some FIFA."
Max shifted awkwardly, blocking the doorway. "Lando, mate, I'm actually just about to head out. I can't hang out right now."
"Oh, come on," Lando's grin faltered slightly, "Just for a bit? We haven't had a proper catch-up in ages."
"I'm sorry, I really can't," Max insisted, glancing at his watch nervously. "I have to pick up a friend from the airport."
Lando's eyes narrowed suspiciously, a mischievous glint appearing. "A friend, huh? Is it that your book dream girl? You're flying her out over here?"
Max felt his face heat up, a blush creeping up his neck. He tried to deny it, but his reaction gave him away.
"It is! Oh man, this is brilliant," Lando's eyes widened in delight, "Max Verstappen, blushing like a schoolboy over a girl."
"Shut up," Max grumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. He couldn't help but smile.
"So, YN is finally gracing Monaco with her presence," Lando teased. "No wonder you've been so distracted lately. When do I get to hang out with her?"
"You don't," Max rolled his eyes, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go."
"Alright, alright," Lando stepped aside, still grinning. "But I want details later, yeah? And tell YN I said hi."
Max waved him off, hurrying to his car. Despite Lando's teasing, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. The excitement was bubbling up inside him again as he drove to the airport.
As he parked and made his way to the arrivals area, Max felt his nerves almost making him want to throw up. He found himself fidgeting, alternating between pacing and sitting, his eyes glued to the arrivals board.
Finally, he saw that YN's flight had landed. His heart rate picked up as he watched the doors, scanning the crowd for her familiar face. And then, suddenly, there she was.
YN emerged from the arrivals gate, looking a bit tired from the journey but still radiant. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on Max, her face lit up with a brilliant smile.
Max felt his breath catch in his throat. He raised his hand in a small wave, a grin spreading across his face as he walked towards her.
"Hey, Max," she said as she reached him, her voice warm and slightly breathless.
"Hey," he replied, suddenly feeling shy. "How was your flight?"
Without thinking, he pulled her into a hug. As he wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her hair, he felt a sense of rightness wash over him. It was as if all the pieces were falling into place.
"It was good, just long," she hugged him back tightly. "I'm so glad to be here though."
As they pulled apart, Max found himself reluctant to let go completely. He kept one hand on her back as he reached for her suitcase with the other. "Here, let me get that for you."
"Always the gentleman," YN teased, but her smile was soft and appreciative.
As they walked towards the exit, Max found himself stealing glances at her, still hardly believing she was really here. "So, um, I thought we could grab some lunch if you're hungry? Or if you're tired, we can head straight to my place so you can rest."
YN considered for a moment. "Lunch sounds great, actually. I'm starving, and I'm too excited to sleep just yet. I want to see Monaco."
Max chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at her enthusiasm. "Lunch it is then. I know just the place – it has a great view of the harbor."
As they made their way to Max's car, chatting easily about YN's flight and Max's plans for her visit, Max felt a sense of contentment he hadn't experienced in a long time. The nervousness from earlier had melted away, replaced by pure happiness.
Loading YN's suitcase into the trunk, Max caught her eye and smiled. "I'm really glad you're here, YN."
She returned his smile, her eyes sparkling. "Me too, Max. Me too."
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ynreadsbooks roomates for the week 🥺
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username1 AWEEE
username2 those are cute kittens
username3 those look like max verstappen's cats
username4 JIMMY AND SASSY VERSTAPPEN??
↳ username1 how CRAZY would it be
danielricciardo Don't hesitate to shout if he's much trouble
↳ username2 HOLD ON??
↳ ynreadsbooks he's just fine don't worry 😅
↳ username3 IS SHE REALLY WITH MAX??
↳ maxverstappen1 I'm not trouble...
↳ username1 OMFGGG
↳ username4 THIS PLOT TWIST
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Three days had passed since YN's arrival in Monaco, and Max couldn't remember a time when he'd been happier.
True to her word, YN had cooked her infamous waffles for breakfast on the second morning of her stay. As Max had taken his first bite, his eyes had widened in surprise and delight. The waffles were light and crispy on the outside, yet fluffy on the inside, with a perfect balance of sweetness and a hint of vanilla. He'd declared them the best he'd ever tasted, earning a proud smile from her.
The days that followed had been filled with laughter, conversation, and exploration. They'd spent hours by Max's pool, talking about everything and nothing. YN would often bring a book, reading aloud passages that she found particularly interesting or amusing, while Max listened, content to hear her voice and watch the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she loved.
They'd explored Monaco together, with Max showing YN his favorite spots and discovering new ones together. He'd taken her to the Monte Carlo Casino, where they'd marveled at the architecture and people-watched. They'd strolled through the streets of Monaco-Ville, the old town, where YN had been enchanted by the colorful buildings. They'd even spent an afternoon at the Oceanographic Museum, where YN's enthusiasm for learning had been infectious, and Max had found himself just as excited as she was about the marine life exhibits.
Throughout it all, Max felt himself falling deeper for her. It wasn't just her beauty or her intelligence that captivated him, but the way she saw the world. Her curiosity, her kindness, her ability to find joy in the smallest things - it all made Max see his surroundings through new eyes. He found himself noticing details he'd never paid attention to before, appreciating moments he might have otherwise overlooked.
What struck Max most was how easy and right it all felt. There was no pressure, no awkwardness. Being with YN was as natural as breathing. They could talk for hours without running out of things to say, but they were also comfortable in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.
As they returned from another long day of exploring the city, both Max and YN retreated to their respective rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Max opted for a soft t-shirt and sweatpants, relishing the feeling of being relaxed and at ease in his own home.
When he emerged from his room, he found YN already settled on his couch, her legs tucked under her, a book in her hands and one of his cats curling beside her. She was wearing one the t-shirt she picked the night she arrived when she realized she forgot to pack pajamas. It was too big for her frame but Max felt like melting knowing she was wearing his shirt.
The sight made Max's heart skip a beat. There was something so intimate and domestic about the scene - YN looking completely at home in his space, in his clothes, absorbed in a book as if she'd always been there.
Max couldn't help but smile, a warmth spreading through his chest. He found himself wanting this view in his life every day - coming home to find YN there, comfortable and content. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, never wanted to intertwine his life so completely with another person's.
YN looked up from her book, catching Max's gaze. Her lips curved into a soft smile. "Hey. Want to join me?"
Without hesitation, Max crossed the room. Instead of sitting next to her, he surprised both of them by lying down on the couch and resting his head in her lap. He looked up at her, his eyes vulnerable. "Would you read to me?"
YN's expression softened, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Of course," she said, her free hand moving to gently run her fingers through his hair.
Max closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation. He felt her shift slightly, getting comfortable, and then her voice filled the air, soft and melodious as she began to read.
Max's lips curved into a smile. "Emma," he murmured. "I remember you mentioning it was one of your favorites."
YN paused her reading, looking down at him with surprise and pleasure. "You remembered that?"
"Of course," Max opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. "I remember everything you tell me."
A huge grin appeared in YN's face, and she bent down to press a soft kiss to Max's forehead. The gesture was so natural, so tender, that it made Max's heart flutter.
As she continued to read, her fingers still combing through his hair, Max found himself only half-listening to the words. Instead, he was acutely aware of every point of contact between them - the warmth of her lap under his head, the gentle touch of her fingers, the soft cadence of her voice washing over him.
In that moment, Max realized with startling clarity that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Not just the glamour of racing or the thrill of victory, but this - quiet moments of intimacy, the comfort of being with someone who understood him, who made him want to be better.
He reached up, gently taking YN's free hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. She paused in her reading, looking down at him with a question in her eyes.
"YN," Max said softly, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm really glad you're here."
She squeezed his hand, her smile radiant. "So am I, Max. So am I."
As she resumed reading, her voice mixing with the soft sound of the Mediterranean breeze outside, Max closed his eyes again, a sense of peace settling over him. Whatever the future held, he knew that this moment, this feeling, was something he'd cherish forever.
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username1 GIRL
username2 THIS ESCALATED QUICKLY
username3 how do you go from max randomly commenting one of your videos to this
username4 girl we can tell that's max dw 😭😭
username5 YOU OWE US A TWO HOUR STORYTIME VIDEO
username6 anything you want to tell us best friend?
username7 she just had a book and a dream fr
landonorris Has he bored you yet?
↳ username1 IM DYING
↳ username2 she really masterminded her way into the f1 circle
↳ ynreadsbooks he's nice, makes good smoothies 😉
↳ maxverstappen1 Good to know that ❤️
↳ landonorris I'm disgusted
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As the final day of YN's stay in Monaco dawned, Max found himself feeling so many bittersweet emotions. The past week had been nothing short of magical, and the thought of it coming to an end left a hollow feeling in his chest. She hadn't even left yet, and already he missed her.
For their final day, Max had decided to take YN out on his yacht. He wanted their last hours together to be special, just the two of them away from the bustling streets of Monaco. As they prepared for the day, packing a picnic and gathering sunscreen and towels, Max couldn't help but reflect on the past week.
Daniel and Lando had teased him mercilessly about his sudden disappearance from their usual hangouts. They'd made jokes about Max being "whipped" and how he'd fallen hard for his "YouTube dream girl." But Max didn't care. He was too happy, too caught up in the bubble of joy that surrounded him and YN.
As they boarded the yacht, the Mediterranean stretching out before them in shades of turquoise, Max felt a pang in his chest. This perfect week was coming to an end, and he wasn't sure he was ready to face reality again.
Once they were out on the open water. YN leaned over the railing, a look of wonder on her face.
"This is incredible, Max," she said, turning to him with a dazzling smile. "I can't believe I'm here, experiencing all of this."
Max moved to stand beside her, their shoulders brushing. "I'm going to miss you," he said softly, "This week has been… I don't even have words for it."
"I'm going to miss you too, Max. So much. But you know I have to go back home. I have videos to make for my channel, work stuff to catch up on…"
Max nodded, understanding but not liking it. "Maybe you could make a video about 'A Week with an F1 Driver'? I'm sure your subscribers would love that."
YN laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Oh yes, I'm sure that would go over well. 'Day 3: Watched Max eat his bodyweight in pasta. Day 5: Learned that F1 drivers are actually big babies when they lose at Mario Kart.'"
"I am not a baby!" Max gasped in mock offense. "I'm just… competitive."
"Uh-huh, sure," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "Is that why you pouted for an hour after I beat you?"
"I did not pout," Max protested, but he was grinning.
"You know, it's still surreal to me that a random video I published got us here. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be spending a week in Monaco with Max Verstappen, I would have laughed in their face."
Max reached out, caressing her cheek softly. "I'm glad you made that video," he said softly. "I'm glad I stumbled across it. I can't imagine not knowing you now."
As they stood together on the boat, the gentle rocking of the waves mirroring the tumultuous emotions within them, Max found his gaze drawn to YN's lips. They were slightly parted, soft and inviting. His heart raced as he lifted his eyes to meet hers, a silent question in his gaze.
YN's eyes, warm and full of affection, met his. A small, knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth, and in that moment, it was all the permission Max needed.
With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer, one hand coming to rest on the small of her back while the other cupped her cheek. Time seemed to slow as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the space between them. And then, finally, their lips met.
The kiss was tender at first, a soft exploration. But as YN's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair, it deepened into something more passionate. Max poured all of his pent-up emotions into the kiss - his joy, his longing, his hope for what they could be.
When they finally parted, YN's eyes were sparkling. "You know," she said, a playful tone to her voice, "I've been waiting for you to do that all week."
Max couldn't help but laugh, a mixture of relief and happiness bubbling up inside him. "Really? All week, huh?"
"Mmhmm," she nodded, her smile widening. "I was starting to think I'd have to make the first move myself."
"Well," Max said, his voice low and teasing, "allow me to make up for lost time."
With that, he pulled her in for another kiss. This one was different from the first - more confident, more passionate. His hands roamed her back, pulling her flush against him as her fingers tangled in his hair. The world around them faded away until there was nothing but the two of them, the taste of salt on their lips, and the warmth of the setting sun on their skin.
When they broke apart this time, both were slightly dazed. Max rested his forehead against YN's, unwilling to put any distance between them.
"I really like you," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I've ever liked anyone before. This week with you… it's been incredible. I don't want it to end."
YN's hand came up to cup his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin. "I really like you too, Max," she replied, her voice equally soft. "These past few days have been like a dream."
Max pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. "I know you have to go back, but… I want to make this work. Us, I mean. If that's something you want too."
"I do want that. Very much. It might not be easy with our schedules and the distance, but I think you're worth it."
"We'll figure it out," he said, determination clear in his voice. "I'll come visit you when I can, and you can come to some of my races. We'll make time for video calls, and I'll text you so much you'll get sick of me."
YN laughed, the sound like music to Max's ears. "I don't think I could ever get sick of you," she said, her eyes twinkling. "But I'm holding you to that promise about the races. I expect VIP treatment, Mr. Verstappen."
Max grinned, pulling her close again. "For you? Always," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another kiss.
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The month following YN's stay in Monaco had been blissful happiness for both YN and Max. Their parting at the airport had been bittersweet, filled with lingering kisses and tight embraces. They had spent a good hour cuddling in Max's car in the airport parking lot, neither wanting to let go.
"I'm going to miss you so much," YN had whispered, her face buried in the crook of Max's neck.
Max had tightened his arms around her, breathing in her scent. "I'll miss you too. But we'll see each other soon, I promise."
When they finally managed to separate, their goodbye kiss had been passionate and filled with promise. As Max watched her disappear into the airport, he already felt a piece of his heart leaving with her.
In the weeks that followed, they took every opportunity to be together. Max would fly to YN's home during his breaks between races, often arriving exhausted but immediately revitalized by her presence.
Their reunions were always intense, filled with desperate kisses and roaming hands as they made up for lost time. But it was the quiet moments that Max treasured most - waking up with YN in his arms, her sleepy smile the first thing he saw; cooking breakfast together, stealing kisses between flipping pancakes; or simply sitting in comfortable silence, each lost in their own tasks but finding comfort in the other's presence.
Now, as they walked hand in hand through the paddock in Austin for the USA Grand Prix, Max felt a sense of pride and joy unlike anything he'd experienced before. Having YN by his side at a race weekend, this time as more than just a friend, felt right in a way he couldn't fully express.
"This is incredible, Max," YN breathed, squeezing his hand. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."
Max grinned, his heart swelling with affection. He loved seeing the paddock through her eyes, rediscovering the magic that he sometimes took for granted.
"Wait until you see the track," he said, pulling her closer. "And the sound when all the cars start up… there's nothing like it."
They paused for a moment, watching as a group of mechanics wheeled a set of tires past them. Max took the opportunity to really look at his girl. She was radiant in the sunlight, her hair catching the light and her eyes sparkling with excitement. He couldn't resist leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek.
YN turned to him, a playful smile on her lips. "What was that for?"
"Do I need a reason to kiss my girl?" Max replied, his voice low and teasing.
She laughed, the sound music to his ears. "I suppose not. But maybe save some for later? We are in public, after all."
"You're killing me," Max groaned dramatically. "How am I supposed to focus on racing when you look like that?"
"Oh, I'm sure you'll manage," YN teased, patting his chest. "After all, I hear you're quite good at this driving thing."
Their playful banter was interrupted by a familiar voice calling out. "Oi, Verstappen! Finally decided to grace us with your presence?"
Max turned to see Daniel approaching, his trademark grin in place. Lando was close behind, an equally mischievous look on his face.
"Hey guys," Max greeted, unconsciously pulling YN closer. "You remember YN, right?"
"Ah yes," Daniel's grin widened. "Nice to see you again, love."
"It's great to see you too, Daniel," she smiled warmly. "And you, Lando."
Lando's eyes darted between Max and YN, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "So, Max, finally managed to seal the deal, huh?"
Max felt his cheeks heat up, but before he could respond, YN jumped in.
"Oh, he did more than that," she said, her tone light but with a hint of something that made Max's pulse quicken. "He's been quite… impressive."
Daniel let out a low whistle while Lando burst into laughter. Max couldn't help but join in, marveling at how effortlessly YN fit into his world.
As they chatted, Max couldn't keep his hands off YN. He found himself constantly touching her - a hand on the small of her back, playing with her fingers, rubbing her arm softly. Each touch was like a spark, reminding him of their passionate reunions over the past month.
He thought back to their last meeting, just a week ago. He had flown to her place straight after he was done with some meetings in Monaco, exhausted but desperate to see her. The moment he stepped through her door, all fatigue had vanished. They had barely made it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. The memory of her skin against his, the taste of her lips, the sound of her gasps and moans… it was enough to make him want to whisk her away to his motorhome right now.
Max was pulled from his thoughts by the approach of another familiar face. Charles Leclerc was walking towards them, his trademark charming smile in place.
"Max! Good to see you, man," Charles said, clapping Max on the shoulder before turning his attention to YN. "And who might this lovely lady be?"
Without hesitation, the words tumbled from Max's lips: "This is YN, my girlfriend."
He felt the girl stiffen slightly beside him, and for a moment, panic flared in his chest. Had he overstepped? They hadn't explicitly discussed labels yet. But when he glanced at YN, she was smiling warmly at Charles, her hand still firmly in Max's.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Charles," YN said, shaking his hand.
Charles raised an eyebrow at Max, a hint of surprise in his expression. "The pleasure is all mine. I hope you're enjoying your time in the paddock."
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, they parted ways. Max led YN towards his driver's room. Once inside the relative privacy of the small space, YN turned to him, a playful glint in her eye.
"Girlfriend, huh?" she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something Max couldn't quite identify.
Max felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. "I… yeah. I mean, if that's okay? I know we haven't really talked about it, but…"
YN stepped closer, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "It's more than okay, Max. I was just surprised. We've been in this beautiful bubble, and hearing you say it out loud… it made it feel real in a way it hasn't before."
Max let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His hands found their way to YN's waist, pulling her closer. "It is real," he said softly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. Feels like you're everything."
Her eyes softened, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You're everything to me too, Max. I love you."
The words hung in the air between them for a moment, both realizing it was the first time either had said it. Then Max surged forward, capturing YN's lips in a kiss that was equal parts tender and passionate.
When they broke apart. Max rested his forehead against YN's, his eyes closed as he savored the moment.
"I love you too," he whispered. "God, YN, I love you so much."
YN's answering smile was radiant and she pulled him in for another kiss.
"So," he said, his voice husky, "ready to watch your boyfriend win a race?"
YN laughed, the sound filling the small space and Max's heart. "Always," she replied. "My misunderstood hero with a heart of gold."
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mimicmimikyuwrites · 10 months ago
Text
Jealousy - Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Sinner!Reader SMUT
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Summary: Lucifer's jealousy emerges when your Ex from when you were alive enters the hotel in search of you. Lucifer makes sure to claim you as his.
Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, dom!Lucifer, cream pie, Lucifer being possessive, marking, unprotected sex, degradation (it happens like once), SMUT, MDNI
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A typical day in Hell was far from calm, so whenever a peaceful moment occurred, even a small one, you made sure to savor it, appreciating it for what it was. For example, you intended to let the wonderful moment you were currently in last for as long as you possibly could. You had been watching a movie in your room in the hotel, but by now your attention had turned away from the movie in question and onto Lucifer. The king of Hell had snuggled up closer to you than he already had been, his head resting on your shoulder as he watched the show.
The simple gesture made you melt, and you couldn't resist gently turning his face to look at you. Lucifer looked at you curiously, waiting for your next move. You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, enjoying the smile it brought to his face.
"Hmm, that was nice, but I think you missed, love." He leaned in, closing the gap between you two, kissing you lovingly. You moved to deepen the kiss and— a knock came at the door. You parted from the kiss and looked towards your room door as Lucifer let out a disappointed sigh. "I'll make sure to give you as many kisses as you want later, alright?" You whispered to him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up and answering the door.
"(Y/N)!" Charlie exclaimed in excitement. "The hotel has a new guest! They said that they know you. You two must've been friends before! Come on, let's go see them!" Without warning, Charlie eagerly grabbed you by the hand, pulling you through the hallways of the hotel and towards the main lobby.
In the lobby, you saw them. The fucker you had hoped would never die purely so you would never have to see them again. Yet, here they were in all of their trashy, shit glory. "Hi." You said with a fake smile, trying to remain civil and hold back the resentment that had since been dormant.
"(Y/N)! Baby!" Your ex grinned, approaching you with wide, open arms. "I'm so glad I found you after all these years. It took some asking around, but we're together again!" They wrapped their arms around you, squeezing you tight enough that it felt like you might suffocate.
"Woah, haha! Hands off, please!" Lucifer appeared next to you, poking at your ex with his cane, annoyance seeping into his forced, polite tone. They finally released you, glaring at Lucifer as he stepped between the two of you.
"And just who the hell are you?" Your ex questioned, watching as Lucifer wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. "I feel like I should be asking you that question." Your boyfriend replied snidely, any attempt to be polite despite the situation now far gone.
"Alrighty!" Charlie said with a nervous laugh, wishing that she had gathered more information about her hotel's newest guest and their relationship with you before allowing them to see you. "Let's all just relax, and maybe (Y/N) can introduce the two of you to eachother."
You let out a sigh. You loved how sweet Charlie was taking in any sinner, you really did, but sometimes it did more harm than good, usually to no fault of her own. You motioned to your ex, "Lucifer, this is my ex." Then you motioned to your boyfriend, "This is Lucifer. King of Hell...And my boyfriend." The last part felt almost weird to say, the surrealness of dating the Hell's king and the man sometimes known as the devil himself finally setting in.
Your ex only laughed in response, earning an angry, growling-like noise from Lucifer. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to calm him down which only partially worked.
"There's no way this little guy is Hell's king! He's so fucking short. I really thought you had better standards in who you date, babe."
"Fuck you." You hissed, anger bubbling up inside of you as you felt yourself slipping into your more demonic form. "He's certainly better than you ever were." By now the other inhabitants of the hotel had gathered around, some more entertained than anything, while others, particularly Vaggie, were preparing for the brawl that was surely about to happen.
"Woah! Look at the time." Charlie intervened. "It's getting pretty late, why don't we all start heading to bed?" You responded only by turning around and heading towards your room, in desperate need of calming yourself down. Lucifer followed behind you, the walk to your room quiet with no words spoken.
You opened your door, nearly throwing it open in your still-present anger, before flopping down onto the bed with a loud, frustrated groan. You looked to the side, taking notice of the way Lucifer refused to look at you, his arms crossed.
"Honey?" No answer. "Love?" No answer, yet again. "Luci?" That did the trick. He always melted whenever you called him that.
"Your ex is fucking annoying."
You let out a small chuckle at his bluntness, a smile making its way onto your face. "They are, Luci. That's why they're my ex." You sat up, pulling him down onto the bed with you, kissing him, causing both of you to relax, some built-up tension leaving.
"You're all mine, aren't you?" He questioned, already knowing your answer. "Mine to love. Mine to claim." His mouth moved to your neck, sharp teeth grazing the skin, and you let out a soft moan as he began to nibble and kiss at the skin, his teeth leaving a mark you were sure he'd take pride in.
Your head fell to the side, giving him more access to your neck as you took his hat off, throwing it to the side, your fingers running through his hair as he continued to mark you.
"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You'll only ever want me." He whispered, lips returning to yours in a fervent kiss. Your lips remained locked together, only occasionally parting for a few seconds so you could help rid each other of the clothes that separated you from what you both craved.
He moved between your legs, the tip of his hardened cock teasing at your wet entrance. Usually, you two would've done more before the main act, but you two were more than ready to indulge in the other right now.
"Don't be a tease, Lucifer." You purred, spreading your legs wider. "Can't you feel how wet I am? How ready I am for you to fuck me senseless?"
He smirked before finally slipping in, biting his lip to prevent an almost embarrassingly loud moan that threatened to surface at the way you felt wrapped around him. He has been in heaven before, and he could say with confidence that being deep inside of you felt better than anything his former home could've offered him.
He began to thrust, his pace starting slow, still teasing you. He wanted you to beg, and you already knew it.
"Faster, harder, please, Lucifer—" You pleaded, giving in to what he wanted from you. "I know you want to pound me into this bed, Lucifer—Ah! Fuck!—" His pace sped up, and the sound of hips meeting yours in rapid succession filled the room. "Fuckfuckfuck–yes!"
"You always feel so fucking good." He growled, wings slipping out as he lost himself in the ecstasy that was your pussy. You ran your fingers through the red and white feathers, and he let out a pleasured whine at the feeling. His wings had always been sensitive.
"Fuck me—Let them all know I'm yours!" You cried out, losing yourself in the feeling of his cock fucking you with quick, deep strokes. You gripped the sheets in your hands, back arching as he angled himself just right, hitting your sweet spot head on.
"Mine. Mine to ruin, mine to fuck, and mine to fill up. All mine." His hands found yours, pinning them down against the bed as he began to fuck you even harder, his climax nearing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.
"I'm gonna cum–You're going to make me cum so hard–"
"Then fucking do it." He demanded with a growl. "Cum around my cock like the little slut you are for me." You came around him, cunt spasming as your orgasm coursed through you. Lucifer's wings fluttered as he followed you soon after, filling you up with his hot cum.
You pulled him down into a sweet kiss once your climax subsided, cupping his face in your hands. God, you loved him more than anything. The kiss ended after a good moment, leaving you both to bask in your shared, post-coital bliss.
"You lost a few feathers," You observed with a giggle, holding one up. He chuckled warmly, lying beside you. You rested your head on his chest, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. You'd have to deal with your ex in the morning, but for now, you were both satisfied with knowing that you were entirely Lucifer's, and that's how you'd always want it to be.
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supernaturalfreewill · 10 days ago
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"Dean! Can you come in here?!" Your voice echoed up the hallway and reached Dean in his bedroom. He immediately stopped in the middle of folding his shirt, discarding it on the bed, and went to the doorway of his room.
"Is everything okay?" he yelled back.
"Yeah, I just—I need your help with something!"
"On my way!" His steps echoed down the tiled hallway and he followed the orange glow of light into one of the storage areas. He found you just inside standing over a table, various items spread out in front of you on the table. "What's all this?" he asked, his deep voice gritty.
"Can you open this jar for me? I can't get the damn thing open."
He gave you a boyish half-smile and accepted it from you.
"What are you smirking about?" you asked him, fiddling with a bronze bowl.
"I don't know. I find it satisfying when you actually need help with something I guess," he teased you. He gripped the metal top and attempted to turn it. His hand slid. "Dammit," he growled, trying again. He readjusted his hold on the jar, squeezed as hard as he could, and twisted. The fucking thing wouldn't budge. Letting out another small noise of frustration he tried again. "Damn thing seems like its rusted sh—OW! What the hell?!"
The bite of your little silver knife was sharp and cold, quickly replaced by a heat and burning across the length of the little cut you'd just inflicted on his forearm. Dean looked down with wide-eyes as a few drops of his blood trickled into the little bronze bowl you'd sneakily arranged underneath him.
His jaw clenched. "What the hell?" he repeated, staring you down. "Why are you cutting me?!"
You rolled your eyes and grabbed the sterile gauze you'd already unwrapped and quickly smoothed it over his wound. "Don't be such a baby," you scolded him. "It was just a little nick!"
"Explain. Now." he demanded.
You were already throwing the rest of the ingredients into the bowl before he could stop you and there was quickly a flash of blue light and a puff of sage green smoke. You casually fanned it away with your hand. " Relax. It's just a protection spell. Considering you have a legion of demons after you."
Dean frowned, but sighed, and much of the tension left him. "Just so you know, people usually at least ask if they can use their blood in rituals and shit."
"Couldn't risk it. You might have said no."
"Why would I have said no to a protection spell?"
"Because some of the ingredients are rare and/or expensive and I didn't want to argue with you about your worth," you said, shooting him a pointed look.
He shifted a little and shook his head. "Fine. Whatever." He paused and watched as you turned back to the ingredients. "Do you even need this jar open?" he asked.
You turned and shot him a smile. "I super-glued it," you admitted. "It's just gravel from outside. I needed a distraction for you."
Dean let out a low laugh Your smile was irresistible. "Well, I am glad you're on my side. I'll say that." And he set the jar down with a clack and returned to his laundry.
Prompt: "Just so you know, people usually at least ask other people if they can use their blood in rituals and shit." / "Couldn't risk it. You might have said no."
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sinsofsummers · 2 years ago
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sensational
6.9k | joel miller & f!innocent!reader part two
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this comes from this request. a few liberties were taken with the details (the reader knows that sex exists, but not much else), just fyi!
summary: thanks to becoming an orphan at age 13, you've lived the rest of your life oblivious to all the world can offer. now that you're in jackson, joel miller ignites something in you that only he can give answers to. warnings: slight angst (mentions of parent loss), innocent!fem!reader, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 25), kind of pervy!joel, smut (18+, mdni!!!), fingering, grinding, reader watches old pornos with joel, slight praise kink, no use of y/n. note: i planned originally to have this be just one part, but even though it ends in a way that i like, i could maybe be convinced to write a second part teehee (part two coming soon!)
You used to love the rain. The way it cascaded down your skin in little droplets, cleansing your body from a hard day's work, and the way it made your hair look so perfectly disheveled.
You craved the rain, until it became nothing but a reminder of the night your parents died.
It had been years at this point, but you would never quite forget how young, and small, and unsuspecting you'd been when they told you to run. How cruel, that time might pass, you might change, but with one smattering of rain, you returned so swiftly to the worst night of your life.
The three of you had been living alone, making your way...somewhere, but they never told you where. Your parents' only wish was to keep you safe, that much was clear. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that upon an ambush by at least ten clickers, after both your parents had been infected, that they'd insist that you run.
"Please, darling," your mother had pleaded, a lump in her throat as she formed the words. "Don't make me beg. I need you to run. Promise?"
Your father was somewhere else, but you could hear him yelling in the distance, in a fight for his life. You were too young, even at thirteen, to understand that those were the sounds of a dying man.
"I'll be right behind you," she'd choked on the last phrase, and in hindsight, you knew she was lying. But in the moment, you'd believed her. You couldn't see the bite she was hiding on her arm, her fate already sealed. "I'll come for you, my love," she insisted, "but I need you to go. Head for the woods."
It was the last time you saw her. You'd turned tail and had run as fast as you could for the woods.
The last thing you heard was a gunshot. A single shot, echoing around you in the trees. It may have been impossible to know, but you didn't need to turn back. Your parents were dead.
If you hadn't found Jackson, who knows how long you might have lasted. Nearing your twenty-first year, you'd proven valuable to the community, and they'd welcomed you in. Jackson was the first home you'd had since you were five.
It hadn't occurred to you that you were years behind your peers in terms of...well, everything, until you met Joel.
Rugged, tan, and sporting a perpetual frown paired with an ever-present crease between his brows, Joel Miller was your patrol partner. You weren't exactly sure why, and he didn't seem particularly pleased about it, but then again—he never seemed particularly pleased about anything.
It hadn't struck you as anything to be proud of, or to boast about to the other young women in Jackson, but they certainly loved coming up to you and expressing their jealousy when they felt so inclined.
"What's he like on patrol?" they'd ask, their eyes wide and lips curled in smirks as they waited for any insight you could give them on his mysterious personality.
All you could ever say over the next four years was a quick, "He's quiet."
Maybe that was why the two of you worked well. He wasn't much of a talker, and after you'd lost your parents, you hadn't been one to waste any breath on conversation, especially when you had survived alone with your own thoughts for almost eight years.
Silence was your mutual understanding. No talking meant no questions, and no questions meant no problems.
And this worked. Until it didn't.
-- -- --
It started like anything started. Quietly, hardly a bother, until it sank into the marrow of your bones and demanded that you address it.
More literally, it started in your shoulders. You'd been on patrol with Joel, a quiet, "Let's go," his only words to you that morning. They were his only words to you every morning, and that day was no different.
Patrolling with him was easy. Like you'd said—no talking, so no problems. You rode next to each other on your respective horses, and there was nothing more than a glance or two toward each other when necessary. It was the only form of communication that the two of you shared.
His big brown eyes had always startled you, looking so inviting in the contrast of the white snow during the winter, but they never showed you more than he allowed you to see. And all you saw of Joel was his dedication to sleep, patrol, eat, and repeat.
You hadn't felt the desire to look that closely at him until some of the girls in Jackson asked you how big his hands were, or what he looked like up close.
"You know," one of them had crooned, not realizing you were unsure of their intentions, "what does he look like without that big old coat on?"
You'd shrugged. "Why should I know?"
Another one wiggled her eyebrows. "Doesn't it get...lonely out there? Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company?"
The faces of those girls, the glint in their eyes, it was something you couldn't quite decipher, as much as you wished you could. So one day, you'd asked the man himself what it all meant.
When you said it for the first time, it was so quiet that you could hardly even hear yourself.
Joel grunted, the only indication that he'd heard you.
Your cheeks burned, but you couldn't find a reason why. This was just Joel. He seemed to know everything there was to know about life; surely he could help you understand this. "Why do the girls in town keep asking me what it's like to patrol with you?"
He didn't answer for a second, but then shrugged. "They botherin' you?"
"No." You weren't quite sure that was true, and knowing him, he could probably hear the lie in your voice. "They're just kind of...belligerent."
His eyebrow cocked. "S'a big word," he mused. "Sure you know what it means?"
Your cheeks grew hot. "Yes," you insisted sharply. "I do read, you know."
He murmured a response, but the wind carried it away from you. You rode in silence for a bit longer before he said, "Don't let those girls get in your head. I think they just wanna get a rise outta you."
"A rise?"
Joel nodded and brought his horse to a routine stop. This was where the two of you always stretched your legs. He reached up to help you down your own mount and set you on the ground gingerly. "You know," he said, as if you should know, but with no regard for the fact that you didn't. "You're still kinda new here. Seems they're still pretty dead-set on embarrassin' you."
"I'm not embarrassed," you insisted again. "I just...is there a joke I'm not getting?"
"Any reason you chose to talk so much today?" was his only answer, which made your stomach clench.
There was no reason for you to be offended, as it was your typical routine to remain quiet unless absolutely necessary, but you couldn't help the way your lips curved downward. "Sorry," you mumbled, "forget I asked."
He was quiet again as the two of you walked at least two hundred paces, stretching out your sore muscles in the snow. It used to be comforting, the silence. It wasn't maddening, it didn't ever bother you if Joel was in his thoughts. You weren't even sure at times if he had any. But all that had changed now; his brow creased more than it usually did, and you wanted nothing more than to ask him what he was thinking.
Joel was the one constant in your life now. Maybe it was a—well, probably it was a trauma response from losing your parents, but you couldn't help it. You didn't need much from anyone, just someone to stay. Joel was strong enough to take care of himself and was smart enough not to make any rash decisions. As far as you could tell, he'd stay.
So how could you be so embarrassed by asking these questions?
"I forgot how long you said you were...alone out there," his grunting voice filled the space between you once more. It was quiet, and he sounded hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how to speak.
"Since I was thirteen," you said mechanically, so familiar with others in Jackson asking the same question.
"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "And you're how old?"
"Twenty-five," you said, feeling oddly small in his presence.
He shook his head. "That's a long time to be alone," he muttered, blowing out a breath.
You huffed. "Yeah, well, I survived. And besides, I've been here for four years now, you know."
"I know."
Again, the silence. Infuriating.
Then, you couldn't help it. "What's...'spooning,' and why do those girls ask me if we've done it?"
Joel stumbled, reaching out for balance. His hand found purchase on your shoulder, and you caught him awkwardly. "You don't even know what spooning is?" He sounded incredulous, as if you'd asked a juvenile question.
The warmth from his hand was astonishing, and distracted you from your embarrassment, if only for a moment. It sank through his glove into your coat, and down toward your skin. Something about the weight of his hand on your shoulder, even for a second as he removed it quickly, was enough to send you spiraling.
Your face burned. "Never mind," you said quietly and mounted your horse again. How stupid could you get? You scolded yourself. You'd ventured too far into this conversation, and now you didn't know how to get yourself out of it. "I was just...never mind. We should get back."
He nodded, but his face still looked somewhat pinched. "Yeah. S'getting dark."
The sun was still up. No intention of sinking beneath the horizon for at least a few hours. You rode again in uncomfortable silence, this time letting it fill the space. You foolishly thought that maybe if you were quiet long enough, he'd forget that you'd made a fool of yourself, that you'd exposed yourself to the truth: that you knew hardly anything about...anything except for survival instincts.
When Joel spoke again, it surprised you. "I didn't mean to tease ya," he said. "It's just kind of a surprise that you're not...that you don't..." he looked over at you, and there was some type of pleading in his eyes, as if he were begging you not to make him say it.
"That I don't what?" you said dumbly, hoping you didn't sound as childish as you felt.
He pondered his next words carefully, and then he hummed, "If you want, I could...teach you some stuff."
"Like spooning?" You felt a warmth in your face as you watched his shoulders hunch with a soft laughter. Your own shoulder burned where he'd touched it, and something bloomed in your gut.
He chuckled. "I don't know about all that," he said, "but I'll help you get...back on track. Would hate for someone to take advantage of your...innocence." It sounded sinful, the way he said it, and the something in your gut pulsed.
"You don't have to," you shook your head, but you didn't even believe the words as they came out of your mouth. "I'll just ask someone else."
"Darlin', don't trust anyone else to give you straight answers. I'm older'n half of everyone in Jackson, anyway." He flashed you a look. "I'll help. Whatever you want to know."
You bit the insides of your cheeks, your stomach turning strangely. "Anything?"
He nodded dutifully, but his eyes had already left yours. Joel Miller, ever the professional. "Whatever you want."
-- -- --
Joel liked to consider himself someone who would never again suffer the shock of surprises. After having lived through and seen more shit than any normal person could, he thought he'd experienced it all.
That is, until her pretty lips had opened and asked him to teach her about all she'd missed. Until she asked him to teach her.
He hadn't really seen her as the picture of innocence until he'd heard how long she'd been alone, surviving with no one and nothing besides her own thoughts and the clothes on her back.
The least her parents could do was teach her how to shoot, he'd thought when he first met her. It was a curiosity that was quickly resolved, as she'd proven herself valuable to Jackson.
Tommy had wasted no time putting them on patrol together. "It'll be good for you," his brother had reasoned when he brought up concerns. "You know, to talk to someone out there. I know she's on the young side, but you don't gotta fall in love with her." He'd flashed an apologetic smile when Joel had scowled. "You're scarin' everyone, Joel. Bein' all quiet and shit...it's—"
"It's what?" he'd asked gruffly. "I don't do it on purpose. I'm a grown man."
This was all true, and he very much didn't do it on purpose. With no one around whom he deemed worthy of his conversation, Joel Miller had become the quiet, introspective version of himself that everyone decided to become scared of all of a sudden.
The way he saw things? It wasn't his fault everyone in Jackson was boring. Or childish.
But her. With her unmistakable will to survive and those eyes that could burn fierce with ire one moment, and soften with curiosity the next...it was only a matter of time before he agreed to do whatever she asked.
He should have seen it coming, especially considering her past. Every time he thought of just how...unsuspecting she was about...everything, he had to shake his head, clearing it of any thoughts that threatened to take advantage of her.
But being ignorant of spooning. He had to clear his throat every time he thought of what that might mean for himself in this particular arrangement. If she knew nothing of something so...palatable, he could hardly help himself when thinking of what else she might be unaware of.
He tried to be patient, and he tried to be respectful, but at the end of the day, he was Joel Miller. From the moment she looked at him with those wide eyes, he was lost.
-- -- --
"What I would give to give that man the ride of his life," one of the girls next to you hummed at breakfast the next morning, her eyes presumably glued to Joel, who'd just come into the cafeteria. You didn't look up at him, instead casting a confused glance toward the girl who'd spoken.
"Ride where?" You cursed your quick instinct to ask questions, as the girls erupted into a fit of giggles. Face burning, you looked down again at your plate. "Never mind," came your almost instantaneous response. You were getting used to having to apologize for your ignorance, and people rarely—especially not these girls—offered their kindness.
One of the other girls snickered. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway," she said, smiling widely. Her next words were nothing short of a drawl, the complete essence of mockery. "'Joel, what's it mean to ride?'" she pinched her face in what you assumed was an impression of you, and it only made your eyebrows furrow despite your stomach sinking in utter horror.
And then there he was. He'd called your name, and now he was standing behind your left shoulder, hand outstretched to save you.
You were sure his hand had never looked quite as appealing as it did now. The calluses on his palm were raised and visibly rough. For a moment, you stared at his fingers and wondered what they might feel like against your cheek.
Swallowing a lump in your throat, that something arose in your gut once more before you heard him murmur your name again.
"Come on," he grunted, but there was a gentleness to it that made the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Time to go."
The girls at your table were silent when you took his hand gingerly and let him lead you from the cafeteria. You noted the swift wave of cold that hit your hand as soon as he dropped it, just a second later. Clasping your hands together, you hoped in a fit of desperation that you might preserve some of the weight and warmth of his touch on your skin. It failed.
"Thanks," you said later, when the two of you were outside the community's borders. Jackson felt a bit too stuffy for any real admissions of gratitude, you'd decided. It turned out to be a good conclusion when you felt the delicious churn of your stomach at the idea of being alone with him once more.
I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway, one of the girls had said. Doesn't it get lonely out there? You were reminded of another's teasing, and this time your cheeks burned at the memory. Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company.
He was big, you considered. When he stood next to you, his frame was almost larger than life, and his shoulders were sinfully broad when you watched him walk in front of you on previous patrols. The sheer size of him was enough to send you into a heady descent.
As usual, Joel didn't answer for what felt like ages, and you'd begun to wonder if he could see where your train of thought had led you. Then:
"You could have told me they were bein' that outrageous," he grunted, keeping his eyes forward. "I woulda helped you out sooner. S'no fun feelin' left outta everything."
It was...odd to hear such words come from a man like Joel. Although, you reminded yourself, you'd hardly spoken to him in the four years that you'd been in Jackson; who was to say he wasn't normally like this? A quiet, brooding older man, yes; but maybe he was naturally like this. One to offer his help.
"If you wanted to help, you would have made an effort four years ago." You let your words hang in the air. You didn't mean for them to come off sharp; it was simply the truth. "I don't need your help," you added, tightening your hands on the reins of your horse and swallowing roughly. "It was fine. I am fine."
He flashed you a look as if to say, is that so? You couldn't help but notice the way the corners of his eyes creased, the only sign of amusement. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on him, although you weren't sure how you were going to explain the way your mouth went dry at the sight of his big brown eyes.
"Besides," you insisted quietly, "you're not my dad."
Joel cleared his throat. Looked down, shoulders tense. Inhaled. "No," he said decidedly. "No, I'm not."
Emboldened by this clarification, you inquired, "So what did those girls mean earlier? Riding, I mean?"
If you could have guaranteed the image of Joel's eyes going wide in surprise to remain in your head for the rest of your days, you would have done it instantly. His forehead was creased as his eyebrows lifted, and despite his position facing away from you, you could see it all.
The way he seemed to wrestle with himself before answering, the way his hands seemed to clench in his gloves. "So, uh..." he started, and then paused again. Mustering up whatever courage he needed, Joel finished, "Well, ya see, when a man and woman love each other very much—"
"Joel." Oh. You couldn't help it when a breathless chuckle left your lips.
He was silent, and when he finally answered, it wasn't a question. "What."
"I'm not fucking stupid. I know how reproduction works."
Joel's chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, and you couldn't ignore the look of complete relief that washed over his rough features. "Thank fuckin' Christ. Didn't know if I had it in me for another sex talk. I'm too old to be doin' this."
"Believe it or not, my parents did leave me with the basic information." Swallowing roughly, you continued. "And I know...I know that men usually...take. It's an assertion of power, from what I've...seen."
He shook his head. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised that you've run into your fair share of dirtbags, even in the middle of the world goin' to shit." He ran a gloved hand through his hair, and you secretly enjoyed the way it stood up. "Anyone ever, you know...take...from you?"
Hearing your own words regurgitated back to you left you feeling fluttery. Shaking your head, you got down from your horse; you'd reached your typical resting spot. "No," you said firmly. "They never wanted me."
Joel nodded. "S'good," he said, and it bothered you to no end that you couldn't understand the emotion in his voice. "So..."
By now he was standing next to you, closer than you were used to, judging by the way his coat sleeve bumped yours as the two of you walked, stretching your legs. "So," you said, thinking up a way to make this conversation less awkward. "I just hate feeling like a kid again. I'm twenty-five, for fuck's sake. There's more than just survival when it comes to living. I just want to know what I'm missing out on," you confessed with a hand on your stomach.
When Joel brushed by your side again your stomach flipped. And what the fuck is that about, and why do I keep feeling it? You asked inwardly, but you were too nervous to ask. Bombarding Joel with questions, especially after you'd just started talking to him on patrol after four years, seeming to be the wrong path to take.
He shrugged, eyebrows still furrowed in thought. "There's nothing to miss if you don't know what you're missin'."
"Yes," you admitted, "but that doesn't stop any of those girls from making me feel like I'm..."
"Innocent?" he murmured, and you thought you weren't meant to hear it until he turned to look at you.
Those big brown eyes, they just won't quit, a voice nudged you in your head.
"I don't want to be innocent," you groaned, throwing your head back. "God, not in the sense that they see me in. Sounds like a damn curse."
The sound of his rumbling laughter, however quiet, sent a shock down your spine and you nearly tripped in the snow. "There's pros and cons, I s'pose," he offered. "It's like I said: I'll help you get back on track. If that's what you really want."
"It is." You stopped walking, took a look around at the landscape, otherwise empty with the scattering of trees. You swallowed, pressed one. "So...riding. It's a part of reproducing, then?"
He chuckled again, but this time it didn't come off as demeaning. It was like he was teasing you, but good-naturedly. "Let's not jump too far ahead of ourselves, yeah? Start with somethin' smaller. Then we'll work our way up."
Joel's eyes were piercing when he held yours in his gaze. If someone watched this conversation, you were sure they'd be able to see the blush blooming on your cheeks.
"Learnin' takes time, ya know," he mused, his growling voice nearly a hum that could have warmed you from the inside out.
You'd made it to the edge of the woods now. This was normally where you turned back, heading for home. But neither of you moved. The bubble of something pulsed again, and you swallowed roughly before whispering hoarsely, "So where should we start?"
-- -- --
If Joel were a better man, he might have warned her what the curse of innocence in a young woman could be. He might have shook his head, stepped back, and told her to ask someone else. He might have taken the reins and turned the two of them back toward Jackson.
If he were better, he wouldn't have stepped closer to her. If he were a better man, he wouldn't have looked into her sparkling eyes and let the question slip. Fuck it all.
"You ever been kissed, darlin'?"
-- -- --
You swallowed. Don't make a fool of yourself, you begged yourself before answering with a quiet shake of your head. "Not many contenders out there. Not any good ones, anyway."
He'd leaned closer to you with his question, and now you could practically see each line of age in his face. Joel's expression was unclear; he could have been pleased with this information or...or maybe there was pity in his eyes. "No," he said with an understanding nod. "No, I suppose there wouldn't have been."
He lifted a gloved hand to his mouth and you watched as he traced it along his lips. The gray strands in his hair glinted off the sunlight, blinking pleasantly in your eyes. That something pulsed once more in your stomach, and there was a sort of realization that came with it.
Joel, you thought. Joel is making me feel like this.
"Will you kiss me?" The words were out of your mouth before you could reel them in.
But instead of laughing, or scoffing, or giving any sign of mockery, Joel Miller inhaled quietly. "You know how much older I am than you?" he asked.
You nodded. "We're both adults, Joel. Besides," you felt a ghost of a smirk come to grace your lips, a feigned confidence coming to save you in this moment of truth. "I thought you told me to ask you these questions."
He sighed. "You're right."
"So? Will you?" you asked, with a small, "please?" coming out afterward.
He moved slowly, something you were equally thankful for as you were frustrated with, but his forehead met yours soon enough. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek, and he let out a shaky breath, letting it fan deliciously across your face. The knowledge that he was just as nervous as you were was not only a comfort; it was perhaps the most attractive thing you'd ever known.
And when you lifted your chin, just a hairsbreadth from his lips, your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for him to meet you in the middle. It only took a moment before he was closing his mouth over yours, and Joel Miller was kissing you.
He was gentle, of course, but there was something restrained about his kiss, the way he slowly slotted his lips over yours as if you might crack under any more pressure. It only made you want more, more, more...
You pressed your hands to his chest and curled them into fists, tugging his jacket to lessen the distance between your bodies even more. You didn't know how you were doing this, how you'd managed to find confidence in what could have easily been a humiliating experience. Your first kiss at twenty-five? With anyone else, it might have been a nightmare.
With Joel, it was turning out to be the most delightful dream.
"So soft, baby," he pulled back to whisper against your mouth. "These lips are so soft for me."
You hummed your response and pulled him back to you, letting him see that you wanted more. That incessant pressure was building, and it wasn't until he had his arms sliding around your waist that you forced yourself to pull back, head spinning. "Joel."
He blinked. "What? Too fast?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, darlin', you're just so—"
"No, that's not it." You managed a weak smile, but the look in his eye, the question and the undeniable desire—is that what it looks like?—quivering in his brown irises, nearly made you collapse. He waited for you to continue, his hands never leaving you, a courtesy you were grateful for. "I feel...hot." Your cheeks warmed. "Um, there's this...pressure."
His lips closed in a tight smirk, and he squeezed your hips. "Where, baby?" he murmured, and you could have sworn you saw stars outlining his head at the sound of the pet name. "Show me," he cooed.
"Um." You paused, unsure of just how. But with his hands on your waist, his heavy, warm touch melting you on the spot, you took one of his gloved hands in yours and guided him to your stomach. "Here. Kind of."
"Yeah?" he said, and you forgot about the cold. About your horses waiting to be mounted, about your other responsibilities in Jackson. All you could see were his dark eyes that had somehow grown darker as you pushed his hand down, down, down...
"Fuck, babygirl," he cursed, and let his hand rest on the crux of your thighs, just barely pressing on the source of the tingling sensation. If anything, it made it worse, and you let a breathy whine fall from your lips. "You're gonna be the death of me, huh?" he groaned.
You couldn't form words. Just one kiss (a very good kiss, mind you) and a heavy hand on your core was all it took, apparently. You could hardly look anywhere but his face, your mouth dropping open as your hips moved of their own accord, grinding into his hand before you realized you were doing it. "Joel—" you whimpered, and he pulled his hand away.
There wasn't enough time for you to feel jilted, as he tugged you back to your horse and practically launched you onto it himself. "We're goin' back," he said firmly, "now."
Swallowing, your throat dry and rough, you pressed a hand to your cheek, feeling the heat swimming under your skin. "Did I do something wrong?"
You could hardly see him shake his head as he mounted his own horse, looking back at you to make sure you were following him. "'Course not," he called over his shoulder. When you caught up with him, the two of you shoulder-to-shoulder, he continued. "Look, darlin', f'I'm gonna be givin' you your first kiss and makin' you feel that good..." he sighed, his dark eyes finding yours. "I'm not doin' it in a fuckin' snowbank."
-- -- --
The entire ride back to Jackson was painfully long, silent but for Joel's mumbled directions, despite the fact that the two of you had taken this same route countless times in the four years that you patrolled together.
Your eyes were trained forward, and you knew his were as well, but it took everything in you not to glance at him even for a second. If you did, you were afraid that the pressure building in the crux of your thighs would never go away.
It would be unfair to say that you were completely unaware of what might happen when you got back to Jackson, but you still didn't know much, which left a nervous bubble rising in your gut. It wasn't like there were any books left in Jackson that you could read about it, or any movies that Maria would allow to remain in the community's borders.
Again, you got a wave of feeling like this should have concerned you, or at least made you a little anxious. But with Joel pulling ahead, his strong back the only thing you could look at, you felt the knot of tension release in your stomach. This was Joel. After four years—even four mostly silent years—of working together, you felt like you...knew him, somehow. That he couldn't possibly lead you astray.
Sure enough, when you were both within the borders, horses returned safely to their stables, the tension returned. Or had it ever really dissipated?
Joel hovered close to you as you left the stables. "Let's go, darlin'," he breathed, a gloved hand on your lower back as he guided you.
"Where?" you said, and you hoped it didn't sound as desperate as it did to you, the pressure getting worse. "I need—"
"I know, baby, I know," he cooed gently, his head on a swivel as if looking for anyone who might stop you. "We're goin' to mine. I've got the perfect lesson planned for ya, alright?"
It was all you could do to nod and let him push you forward through the snowy streets. If only those girls could see you now.
Once inside, you took a breath. There was no one around, and once the door closed behind you, the silence felt all the more heavy. "Ellie?" you asked, if only in courtesy.
He shook his head, and you bit your lip when you saw him smirk. "Just us, doll."
Joel shed his outer layers, and when he stood in front of you, you realized that this was the first time you'd seen him without his coat. Without his gloves, aside from that morning.
Your eyes snagged on his fingers, and you swallowed roughly when you saw the way they twitched, as if in anticipation for something. Or maybe he was holding himself back, you considered. His jaw did seem to have an impatient clench to it. Hands rough like you knew they would be, it didn't take long for your mind to wander into thinking of what it might be like to feel those hands on your skin.
With any luck, he'd give you the sweet release you craved, however it would unfold.
"See anything you like?" he teased, and your cheeks warmed.
"Sorry," you fumbled for a response, your eyes dropping. You'd meant to clear your head, but then your eyes were caught on his thighs. Specifically how hard the seams on his jeans were fighting to remain unripped. "Um, a lesson, you said?"
He nodded, reaching out a hand to take your own coat off, leaving you in the sweater and pants you'd had on all day. You were sure your hair was knotted and would be for days, but he only smoothed a hand down your face, letting you lean into his touch. His fingers were still cold, but your face was hot and it offered a dizzying sense of relief.
"I could never teach you all this," he murmured, his thumb rubbing back and forth in an absentminded swipe across your cheek. "Not without getting...distracted," he finished, pressing his other hand to your waist. Underneath the thick layer of your coat, his hand felt like a hot iron scorching your skin, despite there still being a few layers of clothes between your bodies.
"Distraction is okay," you breathed, lifting a hand to cup his on your waist. "Right?"
He shook his head, a chuckle lifting from deep in his chest. "Not tonight," he whispered. "Tonight, I want to stick to the plan."
"Which is?"
Wordlessly, he removed the hand on your waist and entwined it with your own, tugging you toward the living room where an old television had been placed on a rickety-looking shelf. "Sit," he directed, and you did so without hesitation. He paused, biting back a smile at your eager cooperation, and adjusted himself.
It occurred to you that as much as you were affected by him, he was experiencing a similar effect from you. His pants, already tighter than sin, seemed to have become even tighter, as a bulge began to grow while he stood just a few feet from your face.
"Joel—"
"No, no," he waved a dismissive hand and went to the television to grab something. He came back with something you recognized: a VHS tape. "Don't worry 'bout me, sweets. Tonight's just for you."
"We're gonna watch a movie?" you asked, trying to ignore the way your heart sank a little. You had been hoping that the two of you would kiss some more, and maybe even...you didn't even know the name for it.
"Not just any movie," he grinned, putting it in to watch. The video started. "A special one."
When the scene opened on a man and a woman in the throes of passion, you gasped. "No way," you whispered. "I thought Maria—"
He shrugged, sinking down on the couch beside you, his knee bumping yours. "She must've missed this one," was all he said.
The woman looked to be enjoying herself, as her scene partner kissed her neck, dragging his tongue from the dip in her clavicle to the curve of skin where her neck met her ear. A cartoon-ish moan left her lips, but you didn't pay it any mind. The sight of it made your thighs clench together subconsciously, the lick of pressure rising again in your center.
"Joel—"
"Shh," he said gently. "C'mere, darlin'." With no more than a heavy hand on your waist, he tugged you closer to him, situating you over his lap. "Comfortable?"
You almost said no; you knew that this wouldn't be an acceptable seating arrangement in the cafeteria (or anywhere public, for that matter), but when his hands landed on your thighs, you nodded swiftly. His fingers curled around your skin, and you could feel every pulse of his heartbeat through his fingertips, poised as if he might spread your legs from where they were squeezed together between his own thighs.
Something hard and solid nudged at your core, and you couldn't help it when you leaned back into his chest, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder. A breathy moan tumbled from your lips, and your stomach fluttered when you felt his chest rumble with a chuckle.
"That quick, baby?" he whispered, his breath fanning over your neck. "You really are a sweet young thing, aren't ya," he teased, pressing his nose to the joint between your jaw and your neck, "fallin' apart for me already?" He rocked his hips forward, his bulge pressing harder against you, and it nearly sent you into a spiral.
You swallowed, your throat dry. The sounds of the movie seemed far away as you opened your eyes and looked at his beard, peppered with gray and scratching at your chin when he leaned over you. "Joel," you whispered, bringing your hands to cover his own on your thighs, "I-I want to know everything." You'd never meant anything more fervently, more desperately, than this.
If you'd known how addicting this could feel, being so close to him, feeling his hands on you, perhaps you would have been embarrassed at the way your hips began rubbing yourself on his lap, hoping for—you didn't even know what could be after this. You just knew that the way you felt was the most intense thing you'd felt in your entire life, and you wanted to keep feeling this way, as long as you could.
Joel tutted, squeezing his hands on your thighs. "Oh, look at you," he groaned, a deep, carnal noise that made your chest constrict, "you're a natural, doll." His lips brushed your shoulder, and he darted his tongue out to lick a small strip up your neck.
Your heart swelled with the praise, and it was all you could do not to squeeze your eyes shut. "Please," you begged quietly, as if someone might hear you.
"I know, baby, I know," he crooned, dark eyes locked onto your own as his hand crept closer—to your waistband—closer—unzipping your pants—closer...there.
Your hips lifted from his lap with the heady sensation of his fingers pressed to a bundle of nerves between your legs. "Joel—!" you squeaked.
You felt him smile against your cheek. "So wet," he murmured, "so slick for my fingers, baby." He began rubbing that spot in tight circles, a slow, torturous pace. "Let me know when you're gonna come, yeah?"
"When I..." you trailed off. You'd never...how would you know? "I don't..."
Joel hummed in your ear, rocking his hips again and releasing a guttural groan. "S'okay, pretty girl," he reassured you, "I'll be gentle. Lemme know when it feels like it's too much. "I've gotcha."
You were too far gone to doubt him. This was Joel. He wouldn't let you fall, as much as you felt like you were going to slide to the floor at the feeling of his hand coming up from your leg to caress your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingertips. A strangled mix between a cry and a moan left your lips, and with one more kiss to your brow paired with a quick swipe of his finger over your ever-sensitive bud—
Something gave way and you jerked your head back, digging into his shoulder. Your legs spasmed and you squeezed your hand over Joel's, holding his hand in place underneath your panties.
"Fuck, doll, just like that," he encouraged you. "Look at you, eyes rollin' back for me. Shakin' like a good girl." His hips tensed beneath you and you felt his chest shudder as he released a punishing moan. "Got me feelin' like a damn teenager, comin' in my jeans."
His fingers stilled, but his hand didn't move. Your legs slowly stopped shaking, and the solid mass beneath you was softening. You let out a sigh, your eyelids fluttering closed. Your cheeks were flushed, you could tell; but this time, it wasn't embarrassment that brought the warmth to your face.
"You okay?" he murmured, carefully removing his hands from their places on you. "Feel alright, darlin'?"
Your head turned, nestling into the crook of his neck. Nodding quietly, you shifted in his lap. "I...I didn't know it could be like that," you shivered.
Joel paused the video, the living room falling quiet around you. Swinging a hand under your legs and tugging you to a more comfortable position over his lap, he raised his fingers to his lips, glistening with the remnants of your desire. Your jaw slackened when you watched him open his mouth, lapping at the tips of his fingers.
"Trust me, doll," he said with a glint in his eye. You whimpered in anticipation as he reached to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I've got so much more to teach you."
tysm for reading! you made it to the end! part two is in the works posted!
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talaok · 9 months ago
Text
The sweetest remedy
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!pregnant!reader
summary: Joel has a bad day at work, but you know how to make him forget all about it
warnings: Joel is very much in love with his pregnant wife, a bunch of fluff, smut| oral sex (f receiving), Joel takes care of himself but you still swallow, fluffy smut, Joel being the pussy eating king that he is
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"what's wrong?"
He'd taken one step into the house and you could already tell something was off
His forehead was creased with lines of annoyance and exhaustion, and by the way he was discarding his boots and jacket you knew he was pissed.
You were on the couch, your body turned towards the entrance, towards him, the tv muted behind you
"nothin'" he grumbled, setting his keys on the counter
"baby" you cooed, pouting softly "c'mere"
And of course, he did
Seeing you was all that made him survive these types of shitty days at work
Especially when he knew you'd be waiting for him in those flimsy summer dresses you loved to wear in the summer,
and especially since he'd gotten your belly to swell with the gift of a child.
You were five months in, and he fell in love with you all over again every time he looked at you
He had you straddling his lap the moment he sat down, his hands on your waist and his eyes all over you.
"tell me what's wrong," you asked again
You hated seeing him all troubled, he deserved nothing but happiness this man of yours, 
because that's what he brought to you every single day
He sighed, before nodding slowly
"it's jus' the guys at work babygirl," he said "nothin' you gotta worry about"
you didn't pay attention to the last part
"What did they do this time?" you asked, softly caressing his chest to try and soothe him
"one of 'em didn't show" he grunted, the palms of his rough hands starting their journey from your pregnant belly to your butt and thighs
"Again?" you raised your eyebrows, annoyed too now "I don't understand why you don't just fire them and get new guys"
The first little smile since he first came home tugged at his lips
"what a coldhearted little boss you'd make" he joked, smirking softly.
You rolled your eyes, biting down a grin of your own
"you know I'm right"
He pushed you even closer to him before responding, wanting to feel more of you, all of you
"I know you are babygirl" he nodded, his forehead to yours now "but you know how I am... I know these guy's stories and evrythin'- I jus' don't have it in me"
Ah that's right
Who could have ever expected such a rough and tough exterior to be hiding such a softie
"you're too nice for your own good, Miller" You couldn't help but smile, softly kissing his cheek
He only grunted in response, losing himself in the scent and feel of you
"'m gonna have a talk with him Monday, I'll see what he has to say for himself"
You nodded, watching him closely
"that's a good idea" you murmured as you let him guide your mouth to his, impatiently kissing you as he'd dreamed of doing since he took the first step out of the house this morning.
You let him taste you, his tongue in your mouth and his beard against your skin, until you both needed air and had to lean away
But something seemed still off, usually, he only needed to feel your lips on his to forget all about his day, but today... today that little shadow in his eyes was still lurking in his iris
"baby" you pouted, your hands reaching for his cheeks to gently take his face in your hands "what can I do to make you feel better?"
And in retrospect, you didn't even know why you asked,
Your husband might have been a gentleman and a hard worker and everything else in this entire world... but he still was just a man.
A man that happened to love the taste of his wife more than anything on this earth
Which is why he didn't waste a moment before murmuring
"y'know what I need babydoll"
God but the way his voice always dropped an octave and that sweet southern drawl got more noticeable every time he needed you was more than enough to impregnate you all over again
"you're insatiable, Miller" you shook your head, laughing that light laugh of yours that made him feel summer breeze and sunshine all over him even on the coldest day of winter
But he didn't laugh, oh no, Joel Miller didn't laugh, he only looked at you, admired you, as you made your decision
"alright" you smiled, getting off his lap with a low groan, before laying on the couch, propping a pillow on the armrest so you could set your head on it to not have your belly cover the best part of the show, which of course, was your husband between your thighs.
just like he was now.
Good Christ and heaven all tougher did he look fucking hot like that,
his eyes fixed on your clothed core, his pupils big and dark with lust, his hands gripping the outside of your legs, his breathing almost as quick as yours...
His eyes found yours as his nose plummeted to your core, his nostrils flaring as he did what would make any woman self-conscious,( that was of course, if they weren't married to such a depraved and pussy obsessed man), he smelled you, he smelled you like you would with a good meal before devouring it, the tip of his nose ever so gently rubbing against your clit in the process.
You whimpered like you always did, and, like he always did, he only continued with his torture.
His tongue felt good even though the soaked material
"Joel" you whined now, as he licked slowly and thoroughly,
He resisted the urge to make you come like that, although he'd proved times and times before that he very well could,
he only stopped when there wasn't a spot on your underwear that wasn't drenched, and your chest was rising and falling faster than the speed of light
That, only that, was when his fingers reached for the fabric covering your core and pulled it to the side, his eyes falling to the work of art between your legs
he didn't say anything, he couldn't, he only groaned before he was devouring you whole
"oh my f-" you cried, your back arching from the couch as his hand seeped underneath your dress to get to your belly, his eyes finding yours again "f-fucking god baby"
He groaned again, his tongue drinking up everything you gave him, swirling over your clit over and over again, getting you utterly desperate just to tease you and fall to your hole, threatening to enter and forcing a gasp out of your mouth
your thighs squeezed around his head just like he liked it, robbing him of almost all oxygen as he buried his whole face into your weeping cunt.
"Joel- baby- p-please"
but he was back at sucking your clit, and all the words in your vocabulary got replaced by mindless, animalistic moans as one of your hands shot to his hair, gripping his hazel locks tightly as your hips started grinding onto his face, his nose, his mustache, his everything
And fuck if he didn't love it, if he didn't live to see you use him for your own pleasure, drenching his face and the couch beneath you with all your sweet juices as you whimpered and moaned what alternated between curses and his name with that irresistible desperate voice of yours.
Yeah, there was nothing that could ever beat this,
the feeling that he got every time you came apart like this was something that could have only been described as a glimpse of heaven, with the angels singing and everything too.
"f-fuck" he knew that high pitch cry, oh he knew it really fucking well "baby I-"
And you didn't even have to tell him, he already knew.
He continued feasting on your pussy, letting you chase your own high, and before you knew it, your head was thrown back and a wildfire of pleasure spread through your whole body, from your toes to the ends of your fucking hair.
You would have guessed you'd just run a marathon by how fast your heart was beating
"you're the most gorgeous woman on this planet" Joel murmured more to himself as he kissed the inside of your thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, before crawling up to ghost your lips "with the sweetest fuking pussy too"
You could only let out a silly laugh before he kissed you, letting you have a taste of that sweetness.
But when you didn't feel him grind what you knew must have been a rock hard erection underneath his jeans, on your core like he usually did, you frowned, as you watched him sit up instead
"baby?" your forehead creased even more in puzzlement once you watched him undo his zipper and pull out his aching cock, not looking even remotely interested in making a move to position himself at your entrance
"what are you doing?" you finally asked, sitting up too now
He wrapped a hand around his dick as he answered
"You're still sore from this mornin'"
What does that have to do with anything?
"but-"
He shook his head, watching you closely with that honest care that he only showed you "no but" he declared "I don't wanna hurt you babygirl"
And although you would have liked to argue, you knew that since you'd gotten pregnant, his protective side had somehow gotten even more hard-headed, and changing his mind was damn near impossible, which is why what you did instead, was change the tactic
"I still have hands... or a mouth, you know?" you cocked an eyebrow, eyeing his manhood
You didn't miss the way his member twitched ever so little at the proposal,
but then again, he had always refused you going down on him since the pregnancy, not because he didn't want to, fuck- god only knew the unspeakable things he'd do to let that pretty mouth of yours take care of him, no, the reason was he simply didn't want you to go through all that just for him, for his insignificant pleasure.
"All you gotta do is just sit there and look pretty, sugar" he murmured, finally starting to stroke himself, groaning lowly as he did
Your breathing faltered at the image, his large hands fisting his cock hard, stroking up and down in a way that looked incredibly natural and incredibly intimate at the same time.
And even if he'd ignored your proposal, you couldn't help but smile before pressing a kiss to his neck, right where his pulse was fighting against his skin.
And while you did that, now softly peking every inch of skin not covered by his shirt, you started undoing the straps of your dress, letting them fall down with the top of it once you were done
"like this?" you asked, biting down a smirk as Joel let out a desperate moan at the image before him.
God your tits looked even fucking better now, so full, so soft, so- so fucking perfect
"sweet Jesus" he groaned, his eyes panning between your mouth and your boobs as his strokes got faster, more desperate
You felt his hand sneak up your body and finding your tits, grabbing at them softly, gently caressing each one with all the care and amazement in the word, until he was whispering, begging "fucking-come here" and pulled your mouth to his, leaving a wet, filthy kiss on your lips as he continued palming your front.
the sound from his work on his dick was obscene, but neither of you cared, especially when the words coming out of your mouth happened to be even obscene.
"You're close?" you asked, feeling his heavy breath fanning over your mouth
"yeah doll"
You kissed him again quickly before speaking
"come inside my mouth baby"
Again, Joel Miller might have been as incredible as you wanted... but he still remained only a man,
a man who had to fight with everything he had in himself not to bust his load right there
"Good fucking Christ-" he groaned, closing his eyes as he threw his head back "fuck me"
"I would if you'd let me" you joked, placing another kiss beneath his ear
He laughed softly, opening his eyes to find yours "you want me to come in your mouth sugar?"
"yes" you nodded without missing a beat "I need it" you cooed, stroking his beard as his breathing became more and more uneven, his cock on the verge of exploding
"I need you to fill me up baby, if not my pussy, my throat at least"
"fuck"
you always knew what to say to get him going
"fucking- damnit" he groaned, tugging hurriedly at his cock as he ordered you to "don't move- open your mouth" until he was kneeling beside you on the couch, grunting and moaning soft curses or that's it-good girl, looking down lovingly at you till his warm seed was filling your whole mouth.
It took him a moment to come back to life, to the real word, but before he knew it, you were kissing as he held you close to his chest.
"Feeling better?" you finally asked
"I don't even remember what I was mad about babydoll"
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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months ago
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Leaving VII
Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader
Summary: Olympic chaos with your sister
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Y/NPutellas.S has started a live video. Click to join!
"-Got two backpacks," You're saying as Alexia clicks on your video," I think one of them might become my racket bag because the one I'm using right now is falling apart."
You shove the bags away, glancing around the space as you drag more towards you.
"There's a toiletry bag as well which is full of stuff I probably won't even use."
You pause as you scroll through the comments.
"What sport am I competing in? Oh, I'm doing tennis...Who will be the hardest to play against? Iga, always. I train with her most of the time and I think I've only beaten her a few matches this year. She's scary. Coco always gives me a good competition too. I think she text me a few hours ago but I haven't answered just yet."
You go back to showing off your haul.
You're very complimentary of all of the shoes but you seem confused as to why you've been given so many socks.
Alexia takes a screenshot of a weird face you make while trying on the bucket hat and hastily makes it her profile picture.
"I'm not a fan of the opening skirt," You tell your followers," It's not really my style. I'll wear it because I have to but...What's that? My sister's here?"
You crowd a bit closer to your phone, brows furrowed as you scroll up looking for Alexia's comments.
She feels triumphant at the look of horror on your face when you see her profile picture.
"Alexia!" You shriek," Change it back! My eyes aren't even open! Ale, please!"
Alexia does not change it back and you swear under your breath at her.
"I'm telling Mama!"
Alexia Putellas: Go ahead, you little snitch
"I'm not a snitch!"
Alexia Putellas: Yes, you are
"Don't listen to her guys! She's such a liar!"
You've always been more active on social media than Alexia and fans eat up any content you post on your TikTok. Most of your fans are just people that watch tennis but you've gone viral overnight when you posted a video of you and Iga reuniting at the Olympic Village.
Suddenly, everyone wants content from you and you're posting more than you ever have before.
A lot of it still centres around your tennis, out on the practice courts with the rest of team Spain but there's more domestic things like you retaping your racket grip and showing off everything in the Olympic Village.
Something in Alexia snaps when you make a video complaining about how uncomfortable your cardboard bed is. Suddenly, she's stitching your video.
Her camera pans across her normal hotel bed and ends with her giving a thumbs up to the camera with a smug grin on her face.
Her own fans go crazy over her posting something outside of sponsorships and it's strange to see that some people don't even know who you are.
woso.alexia.engen: Who was the first person in the video???? -> captainklittle: Alexia's little sister! She's representing Spain for tennis!
A second stitch appears hours later, piggybacking off a video of you complaining about your lack of AC. There's no sound apart from the very deliberate flick of Alexia's own AC switch.
It seems every complaint you post, Alexia finds a way to show off how much better she has it in a hotel outside of Paris.
You decide, perhaps a little pettily, to show off what she's missing.
"Hi, guys!" You say," I know a lot of people were wondering about pin trading so I thought I would bring you along for the ride! I've already got a Poland one from Iga and a US one from Coco but I've been wanting a Team GB one and I'm also meeting up with Paolini so she can give me an Italy one."
It's another live video and thank god there's a break in training, so Alexia can jump onto it again.
Jenni and Misa crowd around her at the same time, curious as to what's going on with you.
"I was talking to Carlos at breakfast and he was telling me that the coaches have ordered us all mattress toppers because the beds have started to affect how we're performing."
Alexia Putellas: Sucks to be you, doesn't it?
"Alexia, I swear to god if you keep bullying me then I'm telling Mama and she'll fly out to whoop your ass!"
Alexia Putellas: 🤪
"And Jenni I knew that it's you that just sent that because Alexia doesn't understand emojis."
"Fuck," Jenni mutters.
"Wait, give me the phone. I'll fix it," Misa says.
Alexia Putellas: Who's Jenni?
"Misa, I know that's you as well. Stop trying to cover for each other and I'll tell Mama and she'll whoop all of you."
Alexia doesn't get her phone back for the rest of your live but she does get a strongly worded text from Eli after it's over to grow up and not let her friends bully you.
Alexia calls you a snitch.
You remind her that she should stop bullying you.
"Look who it is!" Jenni cajoles as you come running out of the village to crash into Alexia," Baby Putellas!"
But you're not really listening to her as Alexia presses her forehead against yours, whispering fast Catalan to you as you giggle.
"Aw..." Misa continues where Jenni left off," Look at them! Two sisters! Reunited!"
You and Alexia push each other away, turning your back and pretending that you weren't hugging just a few moments ago.
You turn back to her quickly, hand out. "Can I have your pins?"
"What? No! They're mine!"
"You're not even in the Village! You can't use them!"
"Yes I can!" Alexia splutters out," I've been trading them!"
"Yeah? With who?"
"Jenni!"
"Liar! You've got the same pins! Come on, Ale. Give them over!"
"I will...for a price."
As Alexia lays out her terms, you bring everyone up to your room.
Jenni and Misa split off briefly to check out the dining hall but Alexia comes straight up with you.
"It's actually cardboard," She says, poking at your bed frame.
"Yeah? Do you think we were all lying about that? It's proper cardboard. You can draw on it if you want."
A smile splits your sister's face open.
"Never mind. I don't want you drawing on my bed."
Alexia pokes it. "Do you think it's true? That two people can't get on it at the same time?"
You shrug, rummaging through your bedside table. "I don't know. Why?"
You never get your answer though.
Arms are around your waist suddenly and you're being hauled backwards as Alexia slams herself onto your bed, dragging you back with her.
You may not get an answer but Alexia certainly does because the moment the two of you land, there's an almighty ripping noise and your bed goes to ground very quickly.
"Oops," You sister says.
"Alexia!"
"Sorry?"
"You don't sound very sorry at all."
"Yeah...You're right. I'm not sorry in the slightest. Hey! Stop hitting me!"
"You're lucky I'm not beating you with my rackets!"
"Hey. Hey! It's fine! You can get a new bed."
"Jenni and Misa are going to take the piss out of me! How could you do this, Ale?"
As annoying as your sister is, she at least has the decency to push the blame off onto her friends as you both hastily raise your bed up again and wait for Jenni and Misa to arrive.
They seem to have the same idea as Alexia, jumping onto your bed without so much of a greeting.
But, as planned, the bed collapses under them and the shock of their faces is enough for Alexia breaking your bed to be worth it. Their faces are even funnier as they head downstairs to ask for a new one for you.
Behind your back, Alexia passes you a handful of pins.
JenniHermoso10 has started a live video. Click to join!
"Forward! Forward!"
"I am going forward!"
"More forward! When I say forward, it doesn't mean shuffle! It means walk forward! You're a person not a pigeon!"
"And here we have Olympic football player Alexia Putellas and Olympic tennis player y/n Putellas, attempting to climb onto the rings," Jenni narrates from behind the camera.
"It's not going well," Misa says, as Alexia nearly throws you from your spot on her shoulders," Alexia is clearly struggling."
"I'm not struggling!" Alexia insists, yelping as you twist her hair in your hands.
"Forward!
"This is as forward as I can get!"
"That's such bullshit! Move closer!"
"I can't!"
"You can!"
"I don't think they're ever going to make it," Jenni says," It's like they can't-"
"Stop! Ale, stop! Left a bit. No! Too left. Right again. Left! Right! Left!"
"Left, right, forward, back," Alexia mutters," Make up your mind."
"Left and...got it...Wait! Don't let go!"
You haul yourself from your sister's shoulders onto the centre ring, positioning yourself perched on the sliver of the yellow ring that enters the black one.
"Alright," Alexia says," Give me a hand."
"What? No! You'll pull me off!"
"Give me your hand!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
"No!"
She braces herself on the lower rings and grabs your hand, pulling herself into the centre ring before you can even shove her off.
"Oh," She says," That was pretty easy." Alexia grins at you but the smile drops from her face when she notices the pensive look you're wearing. "What is it?"
"I've just realised," You laugh in disbelief," When Mama said she wanted a picture of us and the rings. I think she meant in front of them. Not in them."
"Oh."
835 notes · View notes
almostempty · 5 months ago
Text
self esteem part 3 - kick and scream (joel x f!reader)
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wc: 9.3k | masterlist | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 |
previous (part 2) ⎯ next (part 4)
summary: Joel catches you on a date and communicates how he feels about it (the only way he knows how).
tags/warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, blow job, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, smash and dash, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak, special guest appearance by date night dave, OOC Dave bc I don’t know that man so I made him single, rich, hot, and pervy idc idc idc, more i might be forgetting rn,  
a/n: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration
thanks: to EVERYONE who read part 1 and 2, but ESPECIALLY  @auteurdelabre for inspiring, I hope you enjoy it bb. I'll try to tag those who specifically asked for more brb
You stare down at the hand that just landed on your thigh, cocking your head in assessment. You can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you work out what expression you should paste onto your face instead, the man sitting next to you seems unbothered. Maybe even encouraged? He continues his lecture about the benefits of indoor rock climbing. You sigh, staring across the park as he continues without pausing to breathe. 
You watch the couples milling around the park, wondering if that’s what you look like with this guy's hand on your leg. You stare back down at it, his long fingers shifting slightly as he continues his animated speech. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel fidgety. Trapped under the weight of his limp hand. He doesn’t seem to notice when you squirm and readjust. He’s circled back to his earlier lecture about how you just have to learn to play an instrument. If he’d let you get a word in, you could verify that you already do, but he seems to prefer the sound of his own voice. 
This guy should get a podcast. The kind where a guy with a microphone talks to himself for three hours about whatever he wants. He’d crush it. You laugh to yourself, unintentionally encouraging him with your smile. He’s not not good-looking. But you’d prefer someone interested in asking you at least one question. 
You stifle a laugh at the intrusive thought of taking him home and stripping his clothes off while he prattles on about amateur bird-watching, sorry–birding, or unicycling. 
Eventually, you extricate yourself from the disappointing date, accept an awkward hug, and turn down dinner. You haven’t left the parking lot yet when your phone buzzes. 
Unsaved number: had a great time with u
Unsaved number: would love to see u again :) 
It’s not that your skin crawls, but it is a full-body no. 
You: thanks, I’m glad I got to know you more 
It’s not technically a lie. You’re glad you learned he’s not a fit for you. You feel okay about leaving it at that for now. You watch the sunset from your parking spot. The park is filled with couples laying on blankets being romantic. You roll your eyes at them and then at yourself for being bitter. Your phone buzzes again, and you wince, hoping it’s not your long-winded date again. It’s not. 
Joel: what you doing?
Fucking Miller. You scoff aloud in the private space of your front seat. By now, he should be on your blocked list, but the quick hit of euphoria that floods through your bloodstream, warming your cheeks, keeps you hooked. He’s a filthy drug that blinds you from logic or survival instincts. Your eyes dart to the pedestrians in the parking lot. Worried. As if the milling strangers know what you’re up to and are about to shame you. A little voice reminds you that if you feel guilty about something, you shouldn’t be doing it. You ignore that voice. Nobody in the parking lot catches on, coast clear, and you let yourself grin wide as a fool when you type your response. 
Later that night, you’re grinning again. Sprawled across your couch, sweaty skin plastered to the faux leather cushions. Sated. Bought and sold on your own lie, you tell the little voice that you didn’t want Joel to stay anyway. You convince yourself some form of compromise is happening, however twisted, when he shows up and leaves you wrecked. He comes to you. You don’t have to get to know each other to make each other feel good. Whatever puts you at ease. 
Sometimes it works. Some days, you feel hollow and anxious. Obsessively tapping your phone to see if he’s responded when you reach out first. Pacing around your home, stressing over whether you should stay up just in case and even in bed, you can’t help but stay alert for a knock at the door. 
The cycle leaves you with dark circles under your eyes most days. But, on the mornings after Joel shows up, you have a bright twinkle in your eyes and a knowing smirk that greets you in the bathroom mirror. Katie noticed the smirk one day and called you out. She demanded an explanation for the mystery dick fairy. 
You wouldn’t admit his identity to her, afraid of getting too involved with someone in her boyfriend's network. But you did admit to the toxic cycle, and your friend was not as amused as you when you tried to pass it off as a joke. She tried to convince you to look for someone to date, but you argued that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. She suggested at least someone who could commit to a plan or send a text back. You knew it didn’t sound great out loud. 
As the days of summer crawl along, you wonder if she’s right. At least, it was worth considering. It’s a feeble attempt to smother your spiraling thoughts about Joel. Still, when you start getting messages from the dating app Katie chose for you, it gives you something to interrupt your racing thoughts. At first. Somehow, it starts to feel even worse. Ignoring the sinking feeling you get when it isn’t Joel’s name in your notifications gets more challenging. 
You had accepted that it was a lost cause to plan anything with him, but you still can’t find the self-respect to turn him away when he shows up at your door. Sometimes, he sends you a grammatically inconsiderate text. You wonder if he somehow has a cell phone plan that still charges him by the message with the way he uses as few words as possible. 
He never stays. Never invites you to his. He evades any predictable behavior. Maybe he’s worried someone ordered a hit on him. Maybe that’s all it is, you muse. Not a contracted kill. The unpredictability. Chaos. That’s what makes him addictive. The brightness of the highs makes you temporarily forget the darkest lows exist. That, and the dirty little thoughts that pour from his mouth and drip into your psyche. That stupid, sexy voice burning into your memory, yeah, that’s definitely addictive. You snort at that. I am unwell, you think. As you pick up your phone again, you see a message from someone new. 
\\\///
Heat radiates off your face as you fling another shirt across the room. You’ve tried on the same three outfits over and over again. Ripping them over your head and tossing them into the pile of laundry purgatory. Maybe sweating and mouth-breathing is a turn-on for your date; if so, you’re gonna nail the first impression. You sigh and commit to option two: the little black dress. A classic, right? 
“Shit,” you curse at yourself when you stumble while attempting to pull your shoes on as you walk down the hall. This is what you get for agreeing to a late evening date on a weeknight; you feel like a mess. Scrambling to play it cool and classy, you pause to recalibrate before opening the door. What was his name? You can’t remember. He didn’t look like your usual type, but Katie had convinced you to branch out a little. More specifically, she told you it was a green flag already if he wasn’t your type. 
You swing the door open, hoping he introduces himself first. He looks expensive. The dark-washed denim, the boots, the jacket, and the watch. Like he walked out of an ad campaign for a brand out of your budget. Dave. He does introduce himself, thankfully. He’s more clean-cut than your usual type, but he speaks confidently and gives off an air of put-togetherness that intrigues you. His voice definitely stirs the butterflies in your stomach. 
Oh. You realize you’ve definitely been busy staring at him and have no idea what he actually said with his sultry bedroom voice. Your eyes widen a little. You don’t wanna fuck this up and embarrass yourself. Luckily, he seems unbothered. He tilts his head with a seductive half-smile. He’s enjoying the way you assess him. That definitely does it for you. Stupid, smug men making you weak in the knees. 
“You ready?” he asks, voice all smoky for no good reason. 
“Yeah,” you manage to say as you recall how to speak and act human. Until you see his luxury car waiting for you. He clocks your beat of hesitance. 
“Good.” 
His authoritative voice flips the right switch in you, and you let him lead. When he opens the door for you, it’s like the final component of his spell. You are bewitched. Under a thick veil, you didn’t even notice the truck that rolled by as you sank into the leather seat. You didn’t notice when the truck pulled over up the block, idling noisily on the quiet street. No, you were busy, focused on manually breathing and taking in what you’d describe as the interior of a spaceship. 
The good news is that Dave is charming. He is easy to talk to as he drives. Flirty and quick-witted. He asks you questions and pauses to consider your responses. You aren’t sure you have much in common, but you like his self-assured demeanor. 
When you walk into the club he’s brought you to, you hesitate once again, feeling underdressed. The club is split with a lounge on one side of the bar–full of intimate booths and plush chairs surrounding tiny tables and trendy mood lighting. Kind of like a swanky hotel lobby, you decide. On the other side of the bar is a dance floor, dimly lit with loud music blasting. Women in bodycon dresses and heels fill the room. You feel plain in comparison. 
“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” you mutter. 
“There isn’t,” Dave asserts, “besides, you look good in this.” He accentuates his statement by running his hand down your spine. It settles some of your nerves and lights up others. He ushers you, hand on your lower back, towards a small booth. And as you settle in, he’s undeniably charismatic. Dave doesn’t reveal much about himself but keeps you laughing and seems genuinely interested in you.  
Despite the loud music and people noise, it’s easy to feel like the room is only for you and him. You sip your drink and warm up to his affection. You’re quick to smile, and despite how serious he seems, he has a playful edge that has you on your toes. 
You can taste the chemistry between you, bright and sparkling. He spurs your confidence with his dark eyes when he not so subtly lets his gaze linger on your body. You stop shying away from attention and try to bask in it instead. It boosts your ego and stirs up your desire. 
When you let yourself look, really look, you decide Dave is handsome. His strong features, broad shoulders, and impeccable grooming work for him. He seems meticulous but not too uptight to have fun. A dark sense of humor flirts behind his twinkling dark eyes. You decide to let him know that you’ve determined he is a handsome man. He gives you a look. Like he already knew you thought that. Your cheeks warm slightly at that. Were you obvious? 
It’s not until he peels away from you to refill your drinks that you notice how close you have been sitting. You mourn the loss of his body heat as he walks away. You had low expectations after your last few dates, but tonight, this feels different. Your eyes trail along his path to the bar, and you lazily rest your chin in your palm before your breath hitches, and you freeze.  
You feel like you’ve swallowed a bowling ball. It’s lodged in your throat first, then constricting your chest, until finally, it sinks. A heavy, solid weight flipping your stomach. You’re locked on a different set of dark eyes. They’re glowering at you through lowered brows from across the room. Seated at the same bar where Dave ordered your drinks. 
Joel stares at you over his drink. He downs the glass without taking his eyes off of you. One quirked brow, asking really? 
Really what? Is he judging you? For what, being on a date? 
Another glass replaces his empty tumbler, but he doesn’t acknowledge the bartender or the rest of the world.
This fucking guy. 
The bowling ball in your gut mutates into something fiery. But, you have nothing to be guilty about. It’s not your fault he’s alone, bitter, and drinking at a bar full of people having more fun than him. In fact, you could say it’s his fault that you’re both here. 
A scowl forms on Joel’s face when Dave slides back into the booth beside you. Good. You hope he suffers. You hope he sees how easy it is for someone to treat you well. And how happy you look. 
You don’t hesitate to lean your body against Dave, giving in to your urges. You squeeze his arm when he makes you laugh, and your touch lingers. He preens under your admiration when you comment on his firm biceps. He is quick to match your advances. Finding excuses to brush your hair behind your ear and settling a heavy palm on your knee. His hand creeps a little higher up your thigh but doesn’t graze the hem of your dress. Respectful. That’s different. 
You don’t need to look again to feel Joel’s eyes burning into you. It incites you that he has the audacity. The gall to make faces at you for showing up on a date. You decide you’ll give Joel something to scowl about, feeling emboldened by your date’s touch.  
You slide Dave’s hand further up your leg, letting go when he gets the idea. You reach for your drink, feigning nonchalance, but your breath catches, and your hand trembles when he traces his fingertips around the crease of your thigh. He skirts beneath the hem of your underwear, drawing lines over your hip and back towards your center. 
The soft touch tickles deliciously, and you feel the anticipation building in your core. He watches your expression, hawklike, noting the tiniest details in the features of your face. He notes when your breath stutters or your eyelids flutter softly. 
“This what you wanted?” he husks, still watching intently. Yes, yes, yes! 
“Almost,” you toy. Something about having both men’s eyes on you has your skin itching with desire and your blood running hot. 
Dave scoffs softly, repeating your word choice and shaking his head. Almost. 
“You looking for more?” he taunts as he wedges his large hand fully between your legs to cup and tease your cunt. 
You can’t help the breathlessness of the yes that slips out of you. You roll into his palm, and your mouth parts at the friction and his boldness. He smiles wolfishly, flashing his teeth, when he feels you twist and rock against him. His look encourages you. And you tilt your hips and shift your legs to give him better access. 
“Dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, still locked on your face. You swell at this. His eyes lower to your glossy lips before he sips casually from his drink, so composed. 
Your cheeks warm at his words, but he has his answer when he slips a finger beneath the damp lace between your legs and drags it through the pool of arousal gathering at your entrance. Your lips part at the contact, chest heaving, and you give him a nod and coy smile in response to his question. You’ll be his dirty little thing tonight. 
“That’s good,” he declares, pressing a kiss just below your ear before adding, “I’d like to do dirty things to you.” 
His husky voice and declaration stir an urgent need to be touched within you. He continues to agitate your nerves as his hand massages over your swollen sex. Your skin feels tight and prickly, tensing, ready to feel more. You’re unconcerned with the debased nature of being fingered in public. 
When your eyes are instinctually drawn back towards Joel, you shudder. You can feel the twitching of your clit as your cunt floods over Dave’s fingers. The depravity that another man’s glare eases the slip of your date’s teasing touch is not lost on you. Instead, it turns you on even more. Joel’s homicidal stare has you squirming. You’ve seen darkness in his eyes before, but not like this. There’s no twinkle of mocking, and it’s not cruel in a hot way. If looks could kill, then this room would look like the club scene from Blade. 
Dave murmurs something filthy in your ear that makes you gasp. Your hand flies to his thigh, gripping tightly to keep you from melting onto the floor. 
“Don’t be shy, dirty girl,” he croons darkly, “you can touch.” 
“Fuck,” you groan under your breath when you move your hand to find his hard cock straining against his well-fitted jeans. 
He chuckles lowly at the way your eyes widen in response before he plunges two fingers inside of you, and you stifle a throaty sound. Your mind still wanders to Joel, and you wonder if he can see your perverse display below the table. Judging by his clenched fists on the bar, you’d say whatever he can see is enough to fill in the blanks. The sick part of you that feels more turned on by his agony expands within you.  
“Oh god,” you whisper as you suck in air. 
Dave works his fingers lazily into you. You feel intoxicated by the attention of both men. A concern flashes through you that someone else in the club could catch on or see more than you’d like to show. But a feeling in your gut tells you that it doesn’t matter. Dave seems strikingly confident with a lethal attention to detail. And the ferocity on Joel’s face only eggs you on. 
When you think of humbling Joel, a sinister smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. He’s the one that unleashed the horny, risk-taking monster within you and then disappeared. Fuck moping about him. You’re getting yours, you decide. 
You shoot Joel a wink. Pouring gasoline on the fire, hoping it pisses him off. 
You lean into the salaciously tempting energy radiating off of Dave. Reaching to hold his jaw as your lips lock and you let him control your mouth. Kissing him riles you up more. You palm at his erection over his jeans, delighting in the noises that roil deep in his chest. You hold back whimpers as the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you finds the perfect spot. 
He pulls back from your kiss and looks down to watch your hand groping at him. You like watching him watch you. 
“You gonna take it out?” Oh. Fuck, you want to. It feels like more of a risk than you’ve taken so far. 
“Here?” you ask him softly.  
A wrinkle appears between your brows. Dave watches your swollen lips again just as your pink tongue darts out to wet them. He raises a brow at you, eyes dropping to where his arm disappears under your dress. 
“Oh, are you feeling bashful now?” he goads. His fingers curl against that sensitive spot inside of you as his palm presses firmly into your swollen clit. He makes it hard for you to answer. You try to pout at him, but the reflexive rise in your brows at the pleasure betrays you.  He chuckles again. “No? Just distracted, hm?” 
“Fuck,” is all you can mouth. It is distracting. Not the fingers inside you, well, not completely, but the urge. The craving to leverage your lewd new lover’s lack of regard for appropriate behavior into emotional revenge. The thought of Joel growing mad with jealousy as he watches you come overtakes your critical thinking. 
Eat your heart out, Joel Miller! You dare him across the room, letting your jaw fall slack and your brows knit in obvious pleasure. 
“Are you going to come for me?” Dave asks, “Here in this booth? Where anyone could see?” he tuts like he’s disappointed, and it works. The danger of it all does something to heighten your senses. It’s blinding. The bass from the music blaring from the dance floor rattling in your ribs, Dave’s designer cologne filling your nose, the sheen of sweat collecting on your chest, and the daggers in Joel’s eyes when you glance to confirm he’s still watching. All the sensations clash and shove you towards your release. 
“Yes,” you hiss quietly, “yes.” Your eyes slam shut as you try to remain composed while riding his fingers under the table. You flicker in and out of reality as your climax rolls through you. You’re drunk on the reversal of power when your eyes peel open, and you see the hardened expression on Joel’s face glowering at you. You wonder if his dick is just as hard in his pants, and the thought has you contracting again around Dave’s fingers.
“That’s a good girl.” Dave’s voice is somehow even deeper. It sends another ripple of pleasure to swirl low in your abdomen. You’d like to hear that again. 
With a touch more clarity after the violent edge of your arousal is dulled, your hand works at his belt, desperate to feel the heat of his cock in your palm. He assists, lifting his hips when you unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants so you can slide your hand beneath his underwear. His tension and urgency further stoke your power trip, and you feel overcome with the need to know how badly he wants you. When you wrap your fingers around him, hear the groan he makes, and feel the mindless buck of his hips, you have a more than good enough answer. He’s yours. 
Dave watches the way your eyes glaze over when your thumb smears the precome dripping from his head down his length. His hand stills distractedly between your legs, and his chin drops as he watches where your hand disappears under his dark boxer briefs. You’re constricted by the elastic waistband, but your grip is tight. Almost as tight as when he fucks his own fist. He’s mesmerized by the way you jerk his cock just right. 
You feel yourself salivating with the need to taste him. You’re getting frustrated with the limited space and want to see him in your hand. You sigh, wishing you could, until you realize you can, and grin. 
You pull your hand back out of his pants, and he snaps out of his stupor. Before he can comment, you cut him off. 
“Keep your pants on and take me to the bathroom so I can suck your cock right.” 
Your voice comes out lower than you thought it would. His eyes flare before he matches your devious look and obeys, spewing filthy thoughts you can’t make out under his breath as he does. He’s ushering you down the hall in seconds, and then you’re locking the door and dropping to your knees. Dave doesn’t wait a second longer, wrenching his belt open and dropping his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free. 
You don’t tease or start slow. He admires how you waste no time like you’re desperate to taste him. And you are. Only pausing for a moment to admire the way he looks, stiff and leaking for you, before you eagerly wrap your lips around him. You slide your tongue everywhere and bob up and down with vigor. Salty and vaguely sweet, precome teases your palette. You want more. The best you can do to express that is swallow around him and suck until he’s moaning and cursing above you. 
You let your saliva pool and spill from your lips so you can slide your hand down the rest of his length while you revel at the weight of him on your tongue. You find the moves that have his fists clenching and thighs straining and repeat them. You hum around him as pride blooms in your chest over how his composure cracks. 
You wonder if Joel has smashed through the bar with his fists yet. At least he didn’t break down the bathroom door before you could get on your knees. Would he strangle Dave first if he saw the two of you? Or would he drag you home and gag you on his angry cock instead? You moan obscenely as your imagination runs wild. You look up at Dave. He watches you with fierce eyes. You wouldn’t mind if they shared you, you consider, but that would take a miracle. 
You continue messily and enthusiastically until your knees ache, and you decide he has to come for you. You try to beg for it while he’s still in your mouth before you have the brains to pull off of him and tell him what you want. He’s endeared by your unrefined hedonism.
He grips your jaw in his palm when you get the words out. 
“You want to swallow my come?” he asks. 
“Yes,” you plead impatiently on your knees with a hoarse voice. You’re a pornographic sight on the tile floor with your wet lashes, swollen lips, and saliva glistening on your chin. You open your mouth for him and hold out your tongue. 
“Oh,” he strokes his thumb along your cheek, smiling down at you, “that’s a good girl.” 
Your eyes close at that, feeling the praise warm your skin before he slides back into your wet mouth. 
Guiding you faster and a little rougher, Dave doesn’t take long to come. Spilling onto your tongue as you groan around him until he stops pulsing in your mouth. You swallow, glowing for him with glassy eyes. He helps you to stand before tucking his softening cock back into his jeans and fastening his belt. You’re adjusting your dress and reaching for your bag on the counter. 
“What do you need?” He asks a little softer than you expected, causing you to pause. 
“Take me home,” you smile at him dopily before pausing and wincing at yourself in the mirror. You look like a freshly face-fucked mess. 
“Uh, actually, give me a few minutes to freshen up first, and I’ll meet you out front?” 
He nods, “I’ll pull the car up.”
“I’d like that.” You reply and lock the door behind him after he slips out. 
Once you feel more presentable, you pull your phone from your bag and tap the screen to check the time before opening the door. 
Seeing Joel’s name makes your stomach flip. You open the text. 
Joel: Miss me? 
It snaps something in you. Something that enrages you. He has to be certifiably insane, you think. It came through a little while ago, but you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom. You begin to spiral, debating if you should march to the bar and throw a drink in his face or pretend like he doesn’t even exist. You feel your face burning hot, and the bathroom is suddenly suffocating. You need some air before you get into the car with Dave. Just long enough to breathe normally and look less like you want to break something. 
Leaving the bathroom you find an employee exit further down the hall. A faded sign on the door warns that an alarm will sound, but the rock wedged in the door jam holding it open a crack begs to differ, and you slip into the dark. 
A lanky, pale kid in a black apron sits atop a picnic table in the alley. 
“Oh, sorry,” you feel a little guilty interrupting his break, “just wanted some air.” 
“All good,” he responds before sliding off the makeshift seating. “Last call for the kitchen anyway. Have my seat,” he waves at the table like he’s offering a throne. You accept. Exceedingly grateful to have the air and the privacy to regulate. Just some slow, deep breaths. Then, you can walk out the front door and let Dave take you home. 
The door swings open again, and you tense, ready to hop off the table and find another space. 
“Sorry,” you start your apology, but it’s cut off. 
“You should be,” Joel accuses harshly. He’s in your space with two of his long strides. Rushing at you like you’re caught in a snare trap, and he’s starving. You briefly look the part with your eyes wide in the moonlight, shocked by his sudden appearance, until your barely dampened rage rips from your throat.
“Joel, what the fuck?” you spit out in disbelief, but he interrupts you– 
“I thought I already told you what happens if you’re gonna be a filthy tease?” his voice lowers as he ignores your question and paces in front of you with a dark, wicked stare. 
“What are you doing here?” you press, ignoring his threat. 
“What are you doing here?” he demands. Like he has some certificate of entitlement to your whereabouts. He towers over you. Your eyes narrow to slits. If you could shoot lasers out of them, you’d do it now. 
You laugh. Loudly. You’re still laughing when he grabs you and pivots your frame so your legs dangle off of the end of the table towards him. Closer. He gets even closer, standing between your knees. You tilt your face to look up at him. 
“You on a date?” it’s a growl carved from stone. You choose to remain ignorant to the shiver it sends through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. How dare he charge up on you like a territorial werewolf in the night? And how dare he look so fucking good with that snarly expression? No. You laugh again. Wild-eyed. Words start coming up before you even hear yourself.
“What is wrong with you, Joel? Why were you watching me? You looking for a show?” you jab. Gnashing at him with your words. He snorts dismissively at you, and a barbaric smile creeps onto his face. Like he’s in on some joke you don’t know about. He irks you so bad your skin crawls. 
“S’that what you call it?” he asks, “A show?” Continuing to ignore your other questions. He is so close to you that it burns your skin. 
“No, Joel. You were right the first time. I am on a date. A real date. You know what that is, right? Like, he asked me out, picked me up on time, bought me a drink,” you’re tallying on your fingers, “answered my–”
“And then what, you fuck him in the bathroom and hide out here? Alone in the alley?” 
It clicks. He knows exactly why you’re flustered. The asshole must’ve sent his text for his own slimy experiment. Trying to rattle you. What fucking game is he playing? Is he trying to win you? Like you’re Dave’s possession to lose? 
You scoff at his interjection, “No, Joel, I’m not alone. You followed me out here to make sure of it, right?” 
“Right,” he rumbles. His dark eyes glint even in the shadows of the alley. He leans lower and closer to you until you tip back, palms on the table behind you, then elbows. Exposing your cleavage to the moonlight. He pauses, eyes raking down your face, neck, and chest. How does he make you feel raw and vulnerable even when fully dressed? 
“You haven’t answered me,” you huff. Irritated and arched beneath him. 
“I asked you first,” he argues. A childish rebuttal for a grown man. You’re pretty sure you’ve asked why he’s here a hundred times, but of course, that doesn’t matter. He’s insufferable with his attitude and inability to communicate. Everything about you is taut, and you feel frayed. 
Joel dips his head and his lips brush your ear, tickling you, before he rasps, “I asked if you miss me, baby, and you haven’t answered.” 
A tremor runs through your body. 
It’s criminal. Your mind converts his voice directly into a hot coil of arousal. The throbbing between your legs causes you to wriggle beneath him.
“I need to know,” he croons, begging you to give in. 
His arm slides under your back, lowering you onto the table. Your restraint collapses terribly quickly for him. His voice. His touch. He knows all of your buttons. 
Laid on your back, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he bends to meet you. 
Soft puffs of air shakily flow between your lips as you struggle to concentrate. On what? You aren’t sure. Not good. You squeeze your eyes shut like maybe he’ll disappear. 
“I mean it, baby,” he continues purring with a sharp edge, “you tell me when you miss me.” 
You know it wouldn’t matter even if you did. If you texted him. If you called. It wouldn’t matter. It would probably make you feel worse. But when he says it, you feel your heart doing flips anyway. 
He slides his hands over your body, and you feel the last of your logic escaping as you tug him towards you. You’re grinding against him stupidly without a single thought. Just having him this close to you had you feeling desperate and needy. You could come again right now just by dry-humping like horny teenagers. 
The craving for him is so intense that you’ll surely die if he doesn’t keep moving. You lose any shred of composure that you were still clinging to and let out a needy whine for him. And when your fingers twist and tug at his shirt, it’s like a green light to Joel. 
He closes any and all gaps between you. His hand skates roughly under your dress, bunching up the fabric. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your neck and grazes his teeth enticingly along your jaw. 
Groping, grinding, grunting. All his movements dance a line between deliberate and frantic. 
You have tunnel vision, lost from time and space. When his low moan vibrates through you, your hand shoots to his belt. He rasps into your ear again, “That’s it, baby, I’m right here if you miss me, don’t need some jerkoff tryin’ to waste your time.” Your fingers fumble. What– “Oh, shit!” a voice yells. You freeze. “Don’t mind me!” The drunk guy slurs as he stumbles out the backdoor and sways down the alley towards the street. 
Your situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Joel seems unfazed, still curled over you. You push at him and sit up. 
“What did you just say, Joel?” 
“Hmm?” he murmurs at you. 
“Joel, I’m serious. What the fuck?” 
He’s not listening. His hands are still searching your body. The scent of his faded deodorant is so familiar in your nose. The words are coming up again. Before he casts his trance on you. 
“No. I said I’m serious,” you repeat, “I’m not playing your games. Done with your weird shit.” Your body feels rigid, and your mind is clearing through the fog of lust. “Just because I have no self-esteem and I fuck you anytime you show up on my doorstep doesn’t mean you have any claim to me.” 
He blinks at you, finally registering your tone, expression shifting. “I actually tried, you know? I wanted to get to know you. You just bail. I keep suffering for it. Like an idiot. I keep thinking it would show I care.” 
“Baby–” 
“And now what? You see me on a date and decide it would be fun to ruin it? Ruin a chance at something better than waiting around wondering if you’ll show up looking to score?” You’re on your feet now. Livid. Ablaze in the dark. “No, you don’t even care enough to think about that,” you realize aloud. 
His features harden. Your head shakes slowly, exasperated with your burgeoning understanding. All you can hear is the white noise buzzing in your skull. Your next words are quieter and lower, forcing him to pay close attention. 
“You just wanted to prove something, right? Thought you’d fuck me on this table and run like you always do? For what, to prove you could?” 
His nostrils flare, and you don’t miss how he grits his teeth.
You don’t falter; he doesn’t scare you. You press on with your accusations prickly on your tongue. You back him against the wall next to the door as you continue. 
“You don’t like hearing it?” you cock your head at him, amused with his discomfort. “Were you going to leave me here in the alley full of your come like I’m some pathetic whore for you? Would you walk me back to my date after that? Was that your plan?” 
Joel snaps, manhandling you in a split second. Pinned against the brick wall, you can hear your heart pounding. It’s a paper-thin line between anger and lust, and you can’t tell which has your blood pumping. You can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or fuck you. You hate that you can’t tell which you’d prefer.
His eyes are locked onto yours. Not revealing anything. You shift, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He doesn’t keep you waiting. Joel shoves his hand into your panties, fingers slipping immediately into the fresh pool of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale comes out of you, but he doesn’t seem to need to blink or breathe anymore. 
He brings his glossy fingers to your mouth. Silent. He taps at your lip until you open and suck, tasting yourself. His mask slips a little. One brow twitches as he studies the scene of your lips wrapped around both of his fingers. But his eyes flick to yours when he pulls them out of your mouth and drags them down your bottom lip, smearing spit against your chin. 
“Tell me,” he says in a whisper that scrapes across your skin, “does it taste like you miss me?” 
You swallow tightly. A lump forms in your throat now, about as large as a civilization-ending asteroid. 
You can hear your phone buzzing. Forgotten on the table. Panic streaks over your eyes as you wonder how long you’ve been out here. You duck under his arm, dashing for your phone. You don’t look at him. You can’t. As you sprint down the hallway, you swing the door open, kicking the rock in the door jam, hopefully locking Joel outside. Cursing at yourself for almost letting Joel fuck you in the alley across from a dumpster.  
Dave sits in his car, idling along the curb near the front of the club. You’re surprised he didn’t leave. You hope it hasn’t been long. You don’t dare check your phone. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You don’t think time functions normally when you’re around Joel. 
Dave is frighteningly observant, slinking out of his car to open the door for you before you get close enough to reach for the handle. 
“I was just starting to wonder if you’d snuck out the back door,” he chides. 
You feel the blood rushing to the surface of your skin. Hot with embarrassment over your behavior and his on-the-nose word choice. 
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I did step out for some air. Wanted to cool down.” 
“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you, tilting your chin towards his face with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes dart around his face, wondering what he sees on yours. “Was it too much, dirty girl?” he coos. 
“What, this?” you lilt mockingly as you palm over his bulge, “I don’t think so.” 
“Good,” he snorts softly. “Get in the car.” He adds as he opens the door for you. 
He pauses before pulling away from the curb once seated in the driver’s side. 
“Is your boyfriend going to be following us home?” 
“My what?” you feel the blood drain from your face. 
“The one from the bar,” he continues, measured and eerily calm, “the one who followed us here?” Your head starts spinning at that, but Dave carries on, unbothered. “I assumed he likes to watch. You should’ve told me. It would’ve been easier than wondering if he’s a deranged stalker or–” 
“No.” You cut him off and struggle to continue for multiple reasons. “It’s not like that. I thought it was a coincidence,” you feel a confusing mix of emotions. 
“Followed us?” you’re curious. 
“When I picked you up. In the truck?”
“Oh god. No. He’s,” you pause, searching for the right words. 
“An ex?” 
“Not even that. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe he’d follow me.” 
“So he is dangerous?” 
“No.” Only to my self-respect. 
“You want me to take care of him?” 
“No.” You reply before putting any thought behind what that means. “No. He’s just an asshole with a staring problem.” 
You withdraw. You hadn’t thought about why Joel was here. How ridiculous it sounds to imagine Joel voluntarily sitting at the bar in a club like this alone. You feel the blood rushing to your ears. Stupid little butterflies flap their wings in your stomach before they’re reduced to ashes, and you begin to see red again tonight. How is Joel ruining your night without saying a word this time? 
“Take me home,” you say firmly.
He does. Dave walks you to your door. You invite him in, but he’s observant, noticing the clouds in your expression. He declines your invite but assures you he would be very interested in seeing you again. He gives you a chaste kiss that makes you laugh, considering how bold you both have been tonight. It lightens your mood. 
He lingers for a moment before he pulls out his wallet. 
“It was on the house this time,” you snark. Curious about what he’s doing. 
He hands you a sleek business card. A business card? Is this guy Patrick Bateman? 
Your face wrinkles in confusion. 
“I already have your number,” you flip the card over in case you’re missing something. It doesn’t say anything, just has a phone number. 
“I meant what I said, that I’d be interested in seeing you again for pleasure,” he smirks, “but if you change your mind, at least keep this.” 
You don’t understand why you’d need his work phone number but try to play it cool and nod. 
“If your stalker becomes a problem, you call me.” 
You’re still confused about what that means when he drives away. As you shut your door, you realize you have no idea what he does. 
You’re still in the middle of composing a text to Katie about how her green flag date included a bathroom blowjob and a business card when you hear a knock at your door. You swing it open, assuming foolishly that it would be Dave. 
Before you can blink, Joel kicks the door shut and backs you down the hallway. He looks like a man possessed as he hurtles towards you. It sends a chill down your spine that you think would trigger your fight or flight response, but yours seems to be reprogrammed to fight or fuck. Staggering backward, you yelp when the backs of your knees hit your mattress. 
“Can I fucking help you?” you snap at him as you realign with reality. “Jesus Christ, Joel, were you waiting outside the window or something?” 
You glare into his eyes, but a toxic part of you only wants to focus on his lips. And how close they are to yours. You also can’t deny the even more debauched part of you that flutters at the possessive look in Joel’s eyes. 
He laughs darkly, “Nah baby, I knew you’d send him on his way.” 
You roll your eyes at that. Cocky bastard. 
And he is. He emits a frenzied energy as he takes you in. Looking you up and down like a prize. Like he’s considering where to write his name on your skin. 
You roll your shoulders. Trying to shake off the idea that you’d like to be possessed by him, but it thrums persistently inside of you. 
“You didn’t know shit, Miller,” you accuse sardonically. 
Joel reaches for you. You think he’s going to tell you off. But his hands glide over the tops of your shoulders and up the column of your neck until he’s cupping your jaw in both hands. It feels jarring and vulnerable to be held by him this way. To feel like he just wants to look at you and to know you can’t look away. You wonder what’s going on behind his dark eyes. What he sees when he looks at you What he thinks. 
The longer he looks at you, the more the tension builds (of course, because it’s Joel). You start to itch, fingers twitching with the need to grab him and pull his full weight on top of you. Despite your building desire, he’s still quietly reading your face. Joel Miller, the enigma, you muse. 
Before you can flip him any shit, his mouth is on yours, and his hands drop to your hips to hold you firmly against his body. You want him to keep holding you there, but closer. You need him even closer. 
He groans into your mouth, and you kiss him back hungrily. Your bodies slot together in a twisted fate. You couldn’t care less about the date you just had at this moment. You can hear Joel’s words from previous encounters that have burrowed into your consciousness, and you’re starving for more.  
A selfish and greedy satisfaction warms in your chest at him being in your bedroom. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth before breaking away to tease bites along your neck and shoulder. You shiver. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your knees buckle, and fall into the bed with him on top of you. He doesn’t stop trying to taste you everywhere, trying to feel every part of you. You breathe out single-syllable praise as your thoughts become hazy.  
You still feel needy. You writhe and strain as you attempt to work his shirt up his broad frame. You’re insistent on feeling the blistering heat of his skin against yours. He leans back up, out of your grip, causing you to sigh in exasperation. Of course, it couldn’t be this easy. What does he have to say now?
“You want me to leave?” 
“What? Why?” you growl out. He is not about to body slam you into a bed and then walk away. 
“Thought you were done with my ‘weird shit’ or whatever you called it,” he taunts. 
“I am,” you huff.
“Tell me to stop.” You can’t. 
“Take your clothes off,” you answer instead. 
He does. Then, he’s pulling your clothes off and climbing over you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever both been fully naked like this. Definitely not while in a bed, at least. It’s more intimate than your relationship calls for. It makes time feel syrupy, but your other senses feel sharply tuned. Joel’s breath fans hot over your ear as he tucks his face into the corner of your neck and shoulder. 
“So,” he sucks at your delicate skin before continuing in his smoky tone, “your date couldn’t satisfy you?” 
“Shut up,” you snarl at him, uninterested in playing games. You’re too lost in the intensity of his physical presence. You need him inside of you, and you tug at his body, trying to pull him closer. It’s useless. His strong arms are braced like two stone pillars on either side of you. 
He’s such a pest. His mouth quirks, and he looks all too pleased with himself. You roll your eyes again. You know what he’s getting at. What he wants to hear you say. But, you’re reluctant to stroke his ego. He’s going to be unbearable if. The thorn of it that hurts the most, though, is that it’s not a lie. It’s an admission. A confirmation. 
He makes you feel so good in ways nobody else ever could, but the pain of knowing he’ll never be yours eats at you. It feels like exposing your beating heart in your chest to confess you want him so badly. You ache to hear him tell you he only wants you again. Even if it’s not real, you lie to yourself, you just need to hear it.  
While you wrestle with finding the words, he begins to torment you. The heat and arousal weigh heavily between your naked bodies. He lowers closer and closer to where you need him most but refuses to alleviate your painful want. Wickedly, he exploits your neediness. Teasing at your skin with his tongue, teeth, and breath. 
“Tell me, baby. Just let me hear it,” he says. But you can’t. 
When he blows air over your strained nipples, and you arch under him seeking contact, he darts down to kiss at your stomach and inner thighs instead. When he gets closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, grazing his nose over your mound, you could snap. 
You reach to dig your fingers into his hair and direct his mouth to your throbbing clit, but he’s stronger than you. Devilish man. He crawls back up to hover over your face. You know he’s enjoying it. Wondering how quickly you’ll break. It makes you want to kick and scream.
“Tell me it’s not true then,” it’s a challenge directed at you, but it feels like he’s also challenging himself. 
He drags the head of his cock over the slick lips of your cunt without precision or direction. You are so convinced he’s torturing you, but he looks like he’s in pain from restraining himself as well. It makes you crazy. You try to reach down to line him up with your entrance yourself, but he’s faster. He grabs your hand and pins it above your head. 
“Fine,” you grit out. Frustrated. You aim to smother your fear with sarcasm and puff your chest, hoping it works. 
“You’re right, Joel. It’s true.” He doesn’t move, waiting to hear more. 
“I missed your filthy mouth and your big fat cock.” You mock with an exaggerated whine. You keep going before you lose courage. “And my date couldn’t satisfy me.” You pause, steeling yourself. The corner of his mouth twitches.
“Because even when I had his cock down my throat,” you force yourself to look in his eyes, “all I could think about was you.” 
You tried to keep the snarky, biting tone in that last part, but your voice betrayed you when you met his eyes. It came out sounding as vulnerable as it felt to say. His expression flickers. You feel too honest. You should take it back. You want to curl up. He grins above you. 
“I know, baby,” he coos. You hold your breath. Of course he’s going to be a condescending ass about it, you start to bemoan internally–but when he finally sinks into you, it shuts off your inner monologue and slows down time. “All I can fuckin’ think about,” he says as he fills you as deeply as possible, letting a satisfied sigh fall from his lips. 
All I can fuckin’ think about. 
The words rattle around in your mind. Joel begins to rock into you, deliberately grinding his pelvis against you. All he can think about is you, too? Or fucking you? Or how he’s ruined you for other men? 
All I can fuckin’ think about. 
It echoes in your head as he picks up his pace, splitting you open with heavy, mind-altering thrusts. Suffocatingly intimate. Face to face. Skin to skin. Soul to soul. His voice isn’t just echoing in your mind; he’s also running his mouth about something. Muttering about how he knew you’d be waiting for him, how he’s going to fuck you until you forget your date's name, how nobody else can satisfy your needy cunt. 
Oh. 
He’s not wrong. You want to hear more. 
“Yes,” You can stoke this fire. You don’t mind finding out what happens if you rile him up while he’s inside you. “Only you,” you pant, “nobody else fucks me like you do.” 
He makes a throaty noise in agreement and shifts. Large hands wrap around the back of your knees and press them towards your chest, tilting your hips up. You choke and sputter as he slams into you with force. The new angle creates a blissful intensity. 
“That’s right,” he says, “nobody else.” 
He pounds into you like he could fuck you through the mattress, maybe even through the floor. The lewd sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fill the room. You tuck your chin to your chest to watch the way each thrust makes your breasts bounce. You notice that he’s mesmerized by the same sight, and you take the opportunity to shift your gaze, studying the look on his face. 
It’s more sensual than anything you’ve done together before. You can see the sweat beading on his chest from exertion. You’re nearly folded in half and unable to stop your soft cries and moans. It’s raw, sticky, and vulnerable. You feel warmed at the thought but also fragile. Breakable. Hypersensitive emotionally and physically. It’s all too bright and hot. 
You let his voice push you over the edge, and your climax rips fiercely through your body. You faintly hear him groan as your tight walls contract around him, but his voice is drowned out by the pleasure. Your legs tremble, still balanced over his shoulders. 
Your core muscles spasm as he keeps sawing into you until your hips are jerking at the sensitivity of your come down. He slows, breathing heavily over you. You can see the animalistic edge in his eyes. You have to push it. Play it out. 
“Make me yours,” you incite. 
You definitely just meant to imply, ‘fuck me hard and come inside me, please,’ but you worry he’s interpreted it differently when he drops your legs. Wrong. He turns you over, laying you flat on your stomach, pulling your arms behind your back, and pinning you to the bed.  He straddles your closed legs. Your shoulders strain a little as he leans into you. His heavy body compresses your prone form, and his cock weighs heavy against the curve of your ass; it feels right. A perverted comfort blanket, stealing your breath. 
“Repeat it,” he tells the back of your neck. 
“Make me yours.” You turn your head to the side. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the string of curses he chants when he lines up and wedges himself into you. The added constriction of your position unravels you both. 
“Mine,” he grunts. You muffle your own noises into the sheets, along for the ride. He doesn’t last much longer before you feel him still overtop of you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside you as he fills you up. Breathing deep, your back rises against his chest before he slides off of you.
You roll onto your side. Facing each other, you still at the sight of him. Another breath shared between you, chests expanding towards each other. For the briefest moment, you think he might stay. You can see the soft edge of relaxation in his features. Your hand drifts toward him, an instinct based on nothing rational, just wanting to feel him. You feel the stupid, dreamy expression settling on your face. Before you can speak or figure out what you were reaching for, he’s snapped out of the bubble of tranquility. His walls are up. 
He’s dressed and leaving, walking towards the door as you can only sigh into your dirty sheets. 
He doesn’t even leave with a snide last word. Just the door closing. 
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foxcantswim · 1 year ago
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FNAF Movie / / Vanessa x F!Reader [Jealousy Hurts]
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(gif by me)
Mike starts to flirt with you. Vanessa definitely isn't jealous. Contents: Fluff, Angst(ish), Established Relationship Warnings: N/A WC: 2,220
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"No no, like this," Mike laughed as he rolled the ball masterfully, he had been bragging about how good at skee-ball he was so you had asked him to teach you. After all, there wasn't a lot to do on the night shift so you might as well waste some time. Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy had been standing a few feet away watching the two of you play, each of them seeming curious.
You rolled another ball but it fell short again.
"Ah, I'll never get it," you groaned, already wanting to give up after failing to get a decent score for the past hour.
Mike smiled at you, stepping closer, "No. Come on. Let me show you." He grabbed another ball and showed you the angle of his arm, "It's simple. Just enough strength in the throw, not too much. And..." he released the ball and it swiftly made its way down the lane and up into one of the high score pockets, "Easy."
"You mean you make it look easy," you rolled your eyes at him and folded your arms in frustration.
He chuckled to himself before holding a ball towards you, "Come on. Let me help."
Vanessa sat in her patrol car outside the pizzeria, her fingers tapping on the wheel. She had been sitting here for almost an hour now, deciding on whether or not to go inside. Her eyes drifted to the clock on the dashboard - 02:40am. She'd usually check in on you every other night to make sure you were okay, but tonight she knew you were on shift with Mike... And yet here she was, pondering on whether or not to go in and see how you were doing. She definitely wasn't here to make sure Mike wasn't going to try anything on you... Definitely not.
Finally, she stepped out of her vehicle and slammed the door shut. She went towards the front doors and peered through the glass, she could see that the lights were on and she could hear faint music. She was about to knock but decided to try the door instead... And of course it was unlocked. Vanessa rolled her eyes in frustration, she couldn't count the amount of times she'd told you to make sure the doors were locked every night.
Upon stepping inside, she could hear muffled voices and laughter - she presumed it was from you and Mike. The stage was empty as she walked past it towards the arcade games, she could clearly see the tall animatronics at the back of the room by the skee-ball machines.
She manoeuvred her way past different games and machines, stepping over loose wires here and there making sure not to trip. She finally made it to the skee-ball machines, she patted Freddy on the arm to let him know that she was there. He stepped out of the way to let her through, however she stopped in her tracks at what she saw.
Mike was standing behind you, one of his hands slowly moving up your arm towards your wrist. Your hand soon lay in his palm, a ball was secure in your hand.
"And you just gotta..." Mike's voice was quiet as Vanessa watched him move your hand with his.
Vanessa decided to clear her voice, making herself known. Both you and Mike turned to look at her.
You dropped the ball and retracted away from Mike with a smile, "Vanessa!" you exclaimed with a smile, walking over to her, "I didn't think you were coming tonight."
Vanessa couldn't help but glare at Mike as you approached her and wrapped her up in your arms, she more than willingly returned the hug as you pressed your lips to her cheek.
"I er... I wasn't aware you two knew each other," Mike coughed awkwardly.
You had been working as an overnight security guard longer than Mike had, you met Vanessa in the first week and you two had hit it off pretty quickly - entering into a relationship only a few months after meeting. A couple of months later, another security guard was hired: Mike. You had only worked duo shifts with him a few times now but you already saw him as a close friend, it was nice to have someone to talk to on long night shifts.
"Oh! Yes. I met Vanessa a few days after I started working here," you said as you pulled away from the hug, Vanessa made sure to grab your hand with hers - she tried her hardest to not keep glaring at Mike. You squeezed her hand in response, "She's my girlfriend. Has been for a couple months now." Vanessa couldn't stop the small smile from appearing on her face.
Mike raised an eyebrow, "Ah... I'm just... surprised it never came up," he shifted on the balls of his feet awkwardly.
"To be honest I didn't even know you two met," you replied.
Vanessa nodded, "I helped him out for the first couple of days," she stepped ever so slightly closer to your side, her hand still firm in yours, "I wasn't going to come over tonight but I was... passing by so I decided to anyways." She definitely wasn't passing by, her last area of patrol was on the other side of town.
"Well, I'm glad you came," you smiled.
Vanessa smirked at you, "Oh really? You usually complain, saying something along the lines of 'I don't need you to keep me company every night, I'm a big girl'."
You rolled your eyes, "Just because I don't need you here, doesn't mean I don't want you here," you then turned your attention back towards Mike, who seemed to be uncomfortable, "I'm sure time will absolutely fly by now that there's more of us."
"What were you two up to?" Vanessa said, her mind going back to when Mike was practically wrapped around you.
"Mike over here is apparently the best skee-ball player that anyone has ever seen. So he was teaching me how to play. I'm sure I could challenge him any day now."
Mike laughed, "I'm sure you could, Y/N."
The three of you made your way towards the main stage, the animatronics walked behind you.
"What should we do to get through these last three hours, hm?" you wondered, looking around the room.
"I mean... We are at Freddy Fazbear's after all. Couldn't hurt to watch them perform a little," Vanessa suggested, nodding towards the showtime button on the wall. You looked towards the animatronics, they almost seemed excited to get up there and put on a show.
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You and Vanessa were sitting at one of the party tables, listening to the music coming from the stage. Freddy, Bonnie and Chica were currently performing whilst Foxy stood by your table, he seemed to be enjoying the show.
Vanessa reached across the table to hold your hand, "Sorry for coming here unannounced, Y/N. Just wanted to see how things were going with... Mike."
You nodded, "Him and I became friends quite quickly. It is nice to have someone here when you aren't able to stop by. The animatronics are good company, but it can't hurt to have someone I can actually have a conversation with." You noticed the way Vanessa squeezed your hand ever so slightly as you spoke. You cocked your head at her before teasing, "You're still my favourite, don't worry. I'd rather have you here."
She grit her teeth, "You know, I'm happy you do have someone to keep you company when I'm not here."
A smirk appeared on your face, "Is that so?"
Before Vanessa could answer, Mike walked into the room with a couple of cans in his hands, "I managed to find a vending machine that still worked," he said, handing you a drink. Vanessa gulped hard as she saw him purposefully drag his fingers across yours as you took the drink. He simply placed the other drink on the table in front of Vanessa.
"They aren't out of date are they?" you said, trying to read the scuffed label.
With a shrug, he walked towards the front of the room to take a seat closer to the stage. Foxy followed close behind him before sprinting past him at full speed, jumpscaring him in the process. You couldn't help but laugh at Mike's reaction as he almost threw the can at Foxy.
You released Vanessa's hand in order to open the can, "I mean I am thirsty..." you hummed, a smile on your face.
Vanessa glared at Mike from across the room, "It's Fizzy Faz. It's disgusting."
You noticed that Vanessa was currently glaring at Mike as the man took his seat, "You sure? Is it disgusting or... Do you not want to drink it because of Mike?"
Her eyes snapped onto you, "Because of Mike? Wh-"
"Come on, Nessy," you grabbed her hand across the table once more, placing the can down onto the table, "I've noticed the glaring. What's going on?"
"Nothing is going on, Y/N," she didn't intend for her voice to sound so cold or snappy, but she couldn't help it.
A frown appeared on your face, "V..."
She sighed heavily, "Sorry. Sorry, Y/N. It's nothing, okay? Mike just..."
You had a slight suspicion of what was going on, but you really wanted her to tell you, "You can talk to me, Nessy. You know I won't judge you, right?"
"It's so stupid, Y/N," she laughed, shaking her head.
There was a moment of silence between the two of you, Vanessa's hand rubbed your knuckles as she tried to think about how to word what she was thinking.
You bit your lip before breaking the silence, "Can you play skee-ball?"
Vanessa was confused by the question, "Skee-ball?"
"Yeah. Are you any good at it?"
"I... I haven't played in a while. But I'd say I've still got it."
"Would you like to teach me instead?" you smirked.
Vanessa rolled her eyes, knowing what you were getting at, "Y/N..."
"Come on, Vanessa. Just admit you didn't like seeing Mike teach me like that."
She scoffed, "Can you blame me? Wouldn't you be pissed if you saw someone all up on your girlfriend like that?"
"To be honest I didn't think anything of it in the moment. I'm sorry, I should've been more aware. I wouldn't give you up for anything. You believe me, right?" you said, hoping for her to understand.
With a sigh, Vanessa nodded, "It's okay, Y/N. I didn't think you were in the wrong," her eyes drifted over to Mike who was currently downing his can of Fizzy Faz, a grimace appeared on his face as he slammed the can down onto the table, "You know he likes you, right?" she looked back at you.
You briefly glanced towards him, "I don't think so..."
She laughed slightly, "Of course he does. Those longing looks, the lingering touches. Him holding your hand teaching you how to play skee-ball. It's every cliché in the book."
"Okay, so maybe he does. But I promise to turn him down if anything happens, okay?"
With a nod, she replied, "Okay. Sorry for acting this way."
"I think it's cute. Shows that you care about me."
She almost looked offended, "Cute is not the word I would use to describe me."
You let go of her hand, she was surprised by the sudden lack of touch. You made your way round to sit in the seat next to her, "You are cute, whether you like it or not," you leaned your head on her shoulder.
Vanessa couldn't stop herself from resting her cheek against your head. The two of you looked over at the animatronics who were still performing, Foxy now having his own little performance on his own stage.
You stretched your arm across the table to grab your can of Fizzy Faz, you removed your head from Vanessa's shoulder to take a sip...
"It's disgusting."
"Told you," Vanessa smirked in victory, "It's probably years out of date too, I can't imagine what it tastes like."
You put the can back down before turning towards Vanessa, "You should taste it."
"I think I will pass on that, thanks."
"You sure?" you leaned closer.
Vanessa turned her head towards yours. She wasted no time in pressing her lips to yours, a soft smile creeping up onto her face. You smiled into the kiss as you felt Vanessa's hand creep up your neck to hold the back of your head. Sadly, you both needed to breath so she pulled away.
She licked her lips causing your breath to hitch... A grimace soon appeared on her face, "God, it tastes disgusting."
You couldn't help but laugh, "I know."
That didn't stop Vanessa from going in for seconds, though.
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Vanessa x F!Reader - Safety Latch (Fluff,Angst,First Kiss)
Vanessa x F!Reader - Total Insecurity (Angst,Hurt/Comfort)
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shankss-magnificent-ass · 7 months ago
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Imagine meeting Rob Lucci again on Egghead Island
Warning: Contains spoilers! If you aren't caught up in the Egghead arc and don't want spoilers, don't read.
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Rob: [tied up and unconscious on the floor of Vegapunk's lab]
You: [glaring at him from the other side of the room]
Stussy: Oh my, that's quite a scary look. It's almost like you know him.
You: I do know him, or at least I thought I did... A little over two years ago I lived on Water 7 where I worked for an engineering firm, and had a life, and a boyfriend.
Stussy: {looks shocked and points at Rob] Was he your boyfriend?
You: Yup, but I got transferred here shortly before he tried to kill Iceberg, who is my adoptive father. We used to exchange letters, and then one day they just stopped, and then three weeks later I got a letter from Iceberg that explained everything.
Stussy: That must have come as quite a shock.
Kaku: [wakes up] what the? [looks around, before cringing away when he notices you] oh dear.
You: [glares] Is that all you have to say to me?
Kaku: Listen, it was just a job, it wasn't personal.
You: Really? Because trying to murder members of my family feels really personal to me, buddy.
Kaku: [Nods to Robin] Technically, she shot Iceberg.
Robin: I shot him the first time, and I didn't feel I had another choice because you were threatening my friends and I didn't know what to do.
You: The second time was Blueno, and then you and Rob beat Paulie, and then left both Iceburg and Paulie tied up inside a burning building!
Kaku: we did do that, didn't we...
You: not to mention Rob played with my feelings by pretending to be a loving boyfriend.
Kaku: I swear that wasn't pretended Lucci really does love~
Rob: That's enough, Kaku.
You: You can talk! Why am I surprised, everything was a lie, wasn't it?
Rob: .... not everything [looks up at you, clearly pouting that he's being admonished]
You: I don't believe you.
Rob: ... can we discuss this in private, please?
You: no, we can't, I do not want to be alone with the World Noble's attack dog.
Rob: I'm a cat.
You: Excuse me?
Rob: I am a Zoan-type devil fruit user, the Neko Neko no Mi, Model: Leopard, specifically.
You: I don't care, because then you're just plain bad at being a cat.
Rob: Bad at being a cat!
You: yes, because if you knew a damn thing about cats, then you'd know you don't ever actually own a cat, you just live with one. They don't listen, they don't obey, and they most certainly don't respect you. So, I suppose, you were good at being a cat when it came to me, but bad when it comes to the world nobles.
Rob: That's not true...
You: save it, I don't want to hear your excuses.
Rob: [Takes a deep breath] They're not excuses, it's true I got close to you in the first place because of Iceberg, but I grew genuine feelings for you once I got to know you. I know I hurt you, it's why I stopped writing you after what happened in Water 7.
Nami: And because his ego was bruised because our captain whooped his ass.
Kaku: He was also in a coma for like a week afterward.
Rob: I figured by then you would have already had word from Water 7 of what happened, so I didn't want to rub salt into the wounds by trying to stay in your life, and that a clean cut was best for you.
You: [remembering that Iceberg had said he wouldn't be upset with you if you elected to stay with Rob] ... Where is Hattori?
Rob: what?
You: Where is Hattori?
Rob: He flew away when Stussy attacked.
You: I'll go get him...
Rob: [smirks[ thank you, I'm sure he'll be happy to see you again. Although he might not recognize you, you've glowed up since your Water 7 days. [winks]
You: [rolls your eyes] I know single life suits me, so save your smooth talk tough guy, it doesn't work on me [lying].
Rob: uh huh
You: [feels your cheeks heat up as your heart flutters, and you avoid eye contact with Lucci] Whatever, I'll go look for your bloody bird.
Rob: [eagerly watches the door slide shut behind you] It's still there
Stussy: What's still there?
Rob: I believe most people call it, "a spark between us'.
Nami: [dramatically gags]
Kaku: Dude, they always liked Hattori more than you, don't go getting a head of yourself.
Rob: [kicks him] zip it.
Stussy: [sighs] men are so stupid.
Robin: [nods in agreement]
Shaka: [judges in silence]
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List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon
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makrustic · 5 months ago
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I’m trying to get into pixel art without watching a bunch of tutorials first (they exhaust me and then demotivate me so then I never want to make art again). Anyways, I was wondering if you’d mind sharing some of your earliest works? You are an inspiration to me, but I know I have a ways to go before my very extremely amateur art is anything like your art is now. Thank you :) and have a wonderful day!
I'm glad you're starting out doing pixel art, and that's awesome! I've been in the exact same position as you are in right now, and I'll give one of my Mak Insights™️for this (lengthy ass read). I started doing pixel art around the summer of 2020, and it's been more than four years. I've started basically just like anyone! I had basic knowledge of art, composition, ideas for color, and simple forms. As you might notice, my early works don't really have much detail; it's more on silhouettes because I don't know how basic 3D forms work at the time! And usually I would stick to one color scheme—simple reds, subtle blues, etc. I had a really simple style back then, but I was alright with what I got going.
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For most artists, you'd go through learning the concepts, ideas, techniques and styles. I've went through the 'YouTube Tutorial' phase and it's been head scratcher; still kinda is. You learn alot, but sometimes at the same time, nothing at all? I've went through bouts of doubt with my art, exhaustion from trying to do something different, then beating myself up for not getting it right. Only recently have I actually found some peace with where I am in my art life right now. But for now, take your steps at your own pace; go through the process of spending time, learning stuff, experimenting styles, having fun, getting stressed, being bored, and reimagining yourself through your art—and as you're chasing your peak, you realize that it's already reached you, and you're the best artist you can be at that very moment. And I hope this helps <3
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byechristopher · 3 months ago
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fuck'em all, but us.
– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST.
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Author's note: Hello, little angels. I have been gone for months, but I've been wanting to write something for a while now. Excuse me for the hiatus. However, I still can not promise that I'll be consistent from now on – but i love you still. Do not copy/steal my work. :)
Warnings: HELLA LONG. This is almost 3.000 words, sweet Jesus. As usual, if you know me, I like writing about dark, angsty shit. Nothing too bad, but you know, mention of fights, blood, smoking, etc.
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I caught Chris staring at me again, that same cold, unreadable expression on his face. He had a cigarette between his fingers, as usual. His eyes were like ice, and whenever they landed on me, I felt a chill run down my spine. He never says anything — just watches, arms crossed, jaw clenched, as if I’ve done something to offend him without even knowing it. I don’t understand what I did to make him look at me that way, like he’s barely holding back some hidden resentment. And yet, every time I catch him watching, I can’t help but wonder what he’s really thinking.
I’ve seen him with a few other people. He’s not exactly warm with them either, but there’s something different when he talks to them, a sort of casual ease. With me, it’s like he’s built up walls — high, thick ones, and I’m just standing outside, banging on the gates. And every now and then, I think I catch a glimpse of something behind them, something vulnerable and unexpected, but it’s gone before I can be sure.
Chris was my older brother's closest friend, and he has been ever since they were little kids. No one ever got as close to him as my brother did. Whereas when it came to me, he was rather cold; I never understood why.
My thoughts were roughly interrupted by my brother's hand, which took a strand of my hair and pulled on it to annoy me.
"Ow, you fucking asshole!"
"Hey, wake the fuck up. I said me and Chris are leaving." I rolled my eyes and looked at Chris one more time, seeing that he still had that same look on his face.
Deciding to ignore it one more time, "yeah, bye. God." I said and grabbed the remote to switch on the TV.
I didn’t want to watch anything in particular; I’d just rather avoid looking at my brother’s best friend once again.
"Where the hell are you?"
A notification popped up and before I read the sender's name, I already knew it was Fred. My ex.
Of course, I ignored it, but deep down, I knew he was losing it. Ever since we broke up, he’s been acting stranger and stranger — showing up at places he knows I’ll be, sending messages that alternate between apologies and accusations. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants me back or wants to make me regret ever knowing him. I kept telling myself he’d get over it eventually, that he just needed time. But lately, his behavior had me on edge, and I began wondering if he’d ever really let go.
I’d never go back to him; that’s something I’m certain of. He crossed too many lines, left too many scars I can’t forget. But now, it’s like he’s everywhere—lurking just out of sight, always one step behind me. I feel his presence even when he’s not there, a constant, heavy reminder that he’s still watching, still obsessing.
I’ve started checking over my shoulder more often, catching myself dreading the sound of my phone vibrating with yet another message from him. I tell myself it’s just paranoia, that he’s all talk and no real threat. But some small part of me can’t shake the fear that this time, he might actually be out of control.
And I was right to be cautious. Because he finally crossed the line I’d been hoping he’d stay behind. When I got home, my stomach twisted as I saw it; my car, with its tires slashed and a deep scratch running along the side. It was unmistakably his work; I’d ignored his messages, blocked his number, and now he was trying to force my attention.
My hands shook as I took in the damage, a mix of anger and dread flooding through me. How could he stoop this low? He knew that car was everything to me, the one thing I’d saved for and bought on my own. The memories of late nights spent driving to clear my head, the freedom it gave me — he’d tainted all of it in a single, desperate act. I wanted to scream, to call him and let him know just how furious I was. But I knew that’s exactly what he wanted.
He wanted a reaction, wanted me to feel trapped and afraid, wanted to pull me back into his twisted little game. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I took a deep breath, locked my jaw, and stared at my car.
"What.. the fuck is that?" My brother's voice echoed in my ears and I turned around to see that he was with Chris.
"Fred. Fucking Fred." I screamed, not able to contain my anger.
"That bastard.. I will fucking kill him." He said and got closer to the car to see the damage, "calm down" was what Chris said to him.
Chris looked shocked and angry, he walked towards me, "this motherfucker lives nearby?"
"Yeah… just a few blocks away." I sat down on the ground, pulling my legs to my chest and hugging them tightly. I looked up at Chris, my voice trembling, "that was my fucking car..." a tear slipped down my cheek, and in that moment, I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness.
Chris clenched his jaw, and I felt a rush of warmth as his hand reached down to cup my cheek. His touch was soft, gentle, and completely disarming. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had held me like that, with such tenderness. He looked down at me with a promising expression, his eyes filled with determination. “I’ll see what I can do about your car. I might have a friend who can fix it.”
His thumb brushed softly against my skin, and I felt a flutter in my stomach, a strange mix of comfort and something deeper. The way he touched me sent a shiver down my spine, pulling me out of my anger for just a moment. In such a chaotic moment, I couldn’t help but think it was nice seeing him like this for once. I stayed silent and leaned into his hand, seeking that warmth, desperate for a distraction from the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.
I was rather quiet the following days – I didn't want to go out of the house much. Not because this asshole scared me with what he did, but because that car meant a lot to me. Me and my brother lived by ourselves, and that car was the only thing I could call my own. Fred would pay and I'd make sure of that.
I was alone in my room getting ready for work, trying to drown out the chaos of the previous days when I heard the front door slam shut. My heart raced with curiosity and unease. Just as I was about to head downstairs, my brother’s voice boomed through the house, cutting through the silence, “what the hell happened to you?”
I sprang to my feet, instinctively rushing toward the sound of the voices. As I reached the living room, I froze at the sight before me. Chris was leaning against the wall, blood dripping from a cut on his eyebrow and cheek, and staining his shirt. My brother stood in front of him, fists clenched, a mixture of concern and fury etched across his face.
“Chris, what the actual fuck!” my brother exclaimed, his voice a mix of anger and worry. Chris turned his gaze toward me, and in that moment, everything else faded. Despite the blood and bruises, there was a softness in his eyes that held me captive, a silent plea that made my heart race.
“I’m fine,” Chris replied, though his voice was strained. He shifted slightly, not even a single emotion of fear, or pain, nothing. If anything, he had a pleased expression on his face, I could almost make out a smile. My brother continued to glare at him, demanding answers, but Chris seemed unwilling to give them to him.
“What happened?” I asked, stepping closer, my heart pounding. Chris’s gaze flickered back to my brother, and for a brief moment, I felt a wave of unease wash over me. I could sense that whatever had happened involved more than just a simple altercation, and the tension in the air was thick with unspoken words.
"Nothing happened. I just shouldn't have gone to Mike's. There was another fight and I got involved." My brother seemed to know what he was talking about, because his whole body language changed, softened.
"I told you, asshole. You should never go to Mike's. This bar is a shithole." He went off to the kitchen, probably going to grab something to clean the blood.
I walked closer to Chris, my sweaty fingers digging into my leather bag. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers trembling as I brushed against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin contrasted by the coolness of the blood that trickled down from the cut above his eyebrow.
“Chris,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, my heart racing. “Does it hurt a lot?” My fingertips lingered on his skin, tracing the line of the wound as if I could somehow erase the pain with my touch. His eyes locked onto mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them — vulnerability, frustration, and a glimmer of something deeper that sent shivers down my spine.
He winced slightly at my touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into my hand, a subtle gesture that felt almost intimate in the tense air between us.
“Not much.” he said, his voice low and rough, but it was the way he looked at me that stole my breath. There was a rawness in his gaze, as if he was baring a part of himself that he’d kept hidden, and in that moment, everything else faded away.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, my thumb brushing lightly over his jawline, searching his eyes for reassurance. The moment felt suspended in time, a fragile bubble where nothing else mattered but the two of us. His expression softened, and I could see the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain.
“I will be,” he replied, his gaze steady and unwavering, filled with a mixture of gratitude and something that felt like longing. It was as if, in that brief exchange, we shared an unspoken promise — a connection that transcended the chaos around us. My heart raced, and for the first time since the chaos began, I felt a sense of calm in the storm.
Having to go to work and leave him like this pained me, but I had to go, "I have to go to work.." I explained.
"Mhm. D'you want me to take you to work?" He said and I sighed.
"No. Of course not. Stay here, with my brother. I'll see you.. later." I nodded my head and said goodbye one last time before leaving.
The night air was cool against my skin as I walked home from work, each step feeling heavier than the last. The streetlights cast a faint glow on the pavement, illuminating the shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly in the darkness. My thoughts were consumed by what had happened — I couldn’t shake the image of him standing there, bloodied yet resilient, leaning into my touch.
My heart raced at the memory, but alongside it was a gnawing concern. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into? It was like him to end up in trouble, but I'd never actually see him like this.
As I approached my apartment, a sudden impulse gripped me. I didn’t want to go home and drown in my thoughts; I wanted to see Chris again. I needed to know he was okay, to check on him in a way that felt more personal than just a casual conversation. With each step toward his place, a mix of anxiety and anticipation bubbled within me.
I turned the corner, the familiar path leading me to his apartment building. The windows were dimly lit, casting a warm glow that made me feel a little lighter despite the weight of everything else. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I was overstepping or if he’d even want to see me after everything that had happened. But the thought of him alone, nursing his wounds and possibly replaying the day in his mind, pushed me forward.
I climbed the stairs, my heart pounding louder with each step. When I reached his door, I raised my hand and knocked softly, the sound echoing in the silence of the hallway. What if he wasn’t ready to see me? But as I waited, I couldn’t help but hope that he’d open the door, that he’d let me in — not just to his apartment, but to whatever was going on in his life.
"What.. are you doing here?" He furrowed his eyebrows, a little band-aid covering the wound on his eyebrow now, a cigarette between his lips.
"Sorry, Chris.. I couldn't.. stop thinking about you. I mean.. what happened to you.. today." I was nervous, I couldn't quite understand why.
He cleared his throat and stepped aside to let me in, and of course, I wasted no time. I sat down on his couch and he sat down beside me. So many years of knowing him, and I've never actually been inside his house, so I took a quick look around, trying to take in everything I could.
"I'm fine. I told you." He insisted and sipped from his beer that was on the coffee table, his cigarette nearly done now.
"Your cheek is swollen, you didn't even bother putting some ice on it. Geez." I huffed and got up to go to the kitchen, opening the freezer and wrapping some ice cubes in a towel.
I walked back to him and sat closer to him, cupping his cheek and gently pressing the ice on his other cheek. Only then did I realise how close we were, I could feel his breath fanning over my lips, his dark blue eyes staring into mine.
"My fiend. Zack. He will help you with the car." He whispered and I whispered back, "thank you.. so much."
The sight of him so vulnerable, the blood still seeping from the cut and the way he tried to mask the pain, made something deep within me stir. I forgot about everything else — the fight, the worry, the uncertainty of where we stood. All I could focus on was him and the way he looked at me, those fierce eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and something more that made my pulse quicken.
I could see the way he held back a flinch, how he tried to remain stoic despite the pain. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, a flush of desire that surprised me. I wanted to kiss him, to close the distance between us and erase the hurt with something softer, something intimate.
As I leaned closer, his gaze flickered to mine, and in that moment, everything else faded away.
“Chris,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, as I hesitated just inches from his face. I could sense that he was just as caught up in the moment as I was, his eyes darkening with something that mirrored my own feelings.
Then, before I could overthink it, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both afraid of what this moment meant. But as I felt him respond, his hand gently cupping my neck, deepening the kiss, I knew I had crossed a line that I never wanted to return from.
The kiss was hungry, needy. I needed to catch my breath. As we pulled away for a breath, my heart raced, and I felt a rush of conflicting emotions, “this is so wrong..” I whispered, my forehead resting against his.
“I know,” Chris replied, his voice thick with desire. He searched my eyes, a mix of guilt and longing swirling between us, "I cant stop now.”
“I shouldn’t be here,” I breathed, feeling the warmth of his body so close. Yet I leaned in again, capturing his lips with mine once more.
He pulled back slightly, looking conflicted, “what if your brother finds out?”
“I don’t.. care right now,” I admitted, my hands threading through his hair as I kissed him again, the heat of the moment overwhelming any reservations I had, “I just want to be here with you.”
“I shouldn’t want this,” he murmured against my lips, his breath mingling with mine, “but I do.”
“Me too,” I confessed, pulling him closer, lost in the moment, “I can’t stop.”
“Then don’t,” he whispered, his eyes darkening with intensity, “don't think about anything else.”
With that, we dove back into the kiss, the world outside fading as we lost ourselves in each other.
As I left Chris's apartment that night, a rush of exhilaration filled me, and I realised that the unexpected had happened; my ex hadn’t reached out at all since the incident with the car. And for the first time in weeks, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.
A few days later, while I was passing by my brother's room, I heard him talking on the phone. Curiosity piqued, I paused outside the door, trying to listen in.
“I can’t believe you did that, man,” my brother said, his tone a mix of disbelief and admiration, “how did you even find his place?”
“This bitch peed his pants when he saw me.” Chris replied, his voice low but amused, “it wasn't that hard, just had to ask around.”
Something shifted inside of me, realizing that Chris had taken matters into his own hands.
“You know, you didn’t have to do that, I was planning on destroying his car instead", my brother said.
“But I wanted to,” Chris replied firmly, and I could hear him chuckle at what my brother said next.
I stepped back, my heart racing. So, it was Chris who had put an end to my ex’s harassment. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. I knew then that my feelings for Chris were deeper than I had allowed myself to acknowledge, and knowing he had my back made me feel safer than ever.
I found myself running back to his apartment again, right then and there, running up the stairs of his building as if someone was chasing me. I knocked on the door, loud enough for him to open it quickly, worry written in his eyes.
"What–"
And this time I didn't let him finish. With tears in my eyes, I pressed my lips against his and lost myself in his arms.
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bountydroid · 9 months ago
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Darlin' pt 6
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pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 / pt 4 / pt 5 / pt 7 (SMUT)
Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (Romance)
Description: Cooper and Reader feel the effects of the radiation.
Notes: My tags are still goofy I don't know what is going on I am sorry. When I am writing the post your profile comes up and I click on it but then when I post it it doesn't work? Help? You guys may have to just keep an eye on my posts. :(
Cooper still hasn't told us where he is taking us yet. The sun seemed to get extra hot as the day went on. I knew the irradiation of the river was starting to hit me, just like it was the vaultie. We both had sunken, dark eyes and pale skin. Radiation sickness was starting to set in. Cooper made sure I stayed close to him, his eyes only leaving me to bark at the vaultie when she slowed.
"This damn sun," I whined.
Without saying a word, Cooper took off his hat and dropped it on my head. I smiled ear to ear, the idea of wearing his hat filling me with joy. "Thanks, Coop." 
His footsteps stuttered at the nickname. Little did I know, it brought back a flood of memories that were long forgotten. "Just don't lose it, darlin'." He mumbled.
The show of affection filled me with a burst of energy, adding some pep to my step as we trekked along in the sand. Eventually, we happened upon a small, derelict town. The old homes were covered almost half up their sides with sand. The houses now were all the same tan color as the ground, a reminder of the harshness of the wastelands. We walked up to a building with "Westside Medical Clinic" written on a big sign out front. As soon as we stopped walking we heard it. The yelling.
"Roger! My name... is Roger!" A voice roared from inside the building. 
The three of us exchanged looks before Cooper pushed the vaultie towards the door, making her go first. "Stay behind me, sugar." He said quietly to me. 
We slowly continued into the building as the snarling grew closer. The vaultie hesitated, not wanting to get any closer to the danger inside. This caused Cooper to give her another harsh shove. The fear swirling in my stomach made me feel like I was going to throw up. I grabbed onto the back of Cooper's coat for purchase. We finally made our way into the room where the voice was coming from. A man, or a ghoul, was sitting in the sand, mumbling and snarling. 
"Hey Rog," Cooper greets him.
"Hey. Hey." the man laughs, relieved to see his friend. "Fancy seeing you here. You out for that bounty, too, huh?"
"Yep," Cooper responds as he knelt in front of his friend.
You all stand there in silence for a bit, listening to Roger snarl and whip his head around. 
"Oh, shit," Roger says between wails.
"How you feelin’?" Cooper asks quietly, already knowing the answer.
"Oh... you know," Roger replied. "It's hard out here. Dang smoothies can be so unkind. I see you got some smoothies of your own." He says as he looks over at the vaultie and me in the corner. "That one is cute with your hat on."
I give him a small smile as a blush warms my cheeks. "You like it? I'm thinking of keeping it." I say, trying to lighten the mood. 
Roger lets out a gleeful laugh, "Oh, I hope she rubs off on you. Keep her around."
Cooper smiles in response, "Plan on it."
Roger cried out again, ripping the smiles off everyone's faces.
"You're turning," Cooper says reluctantly, he exchanges a worried look with you.
"Yeah maybe, maybe." Roger says on the verge of tears, "Maybe. Hey, you don't happen to have any vials, do you? Just one little puff and I'll be back on my feet. You know I'm good for it." Roger pleaded.
"I'm sorry Roger I am all out," Cooper says, looking sorrowful.
"That's okay. That's okay." Roger mumbles. "Though, um, you and your smooth-faced friends, you um... you might want to clear out before things get ugly."
Roger started to snarl again, he was growing louder and louder. It was horrible to watch. "Is this what will happen to Cooper?" I thought to myself.
"I did okay. 28 years since I first started showing," Roger said, before snarling again. "Oh, hell! Not as long as you are though." He pointed proudly at Cooper, "You've outlasted us all. How long since you first started wastelanding?"
"A long time," Cooper responds while shaking his head.
"That's a lot of vials," Roger said quietly.
"Well I've always been good at making money, Roger." Cooper exhales as he stands up. "Say, you remember how good food used to taste?"
"Yeah, BlamCo Mac and Cheese!" Roger says excitedly.
"Ice Cream and Apple Pie." Cooper countered.
"Hot damn! Apple Pie." Roger said, joy lighting up his face, even making the vaultie smile. "You know my mother used to-"
Before he could finish, Cooper shot Roger threw the head with no warning. I stumbled back in shock, tripping and falling on my butt and landing in the sand. 
"Why did you do that?" The vaultie asked with tears in her eyes. "He was sick."
Cooper ignores her and starts making his way toward me while he holsters his gun. My eyes were glued to the man, lifeless on the ground. 
"Darlin'." Cooper says pulling me from my thoughts and he crouches in front of me. 
I look up at him with weeping eyes. "He...." I trailed off. I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," I whispered as the tears started to fall down to my chest. 
"Don't be sorry, darlin'. Can you do something for me?" He asked calmly.
"Yeah." I managed to respond between sniffles. 
"Wait in the hallway." He replies, rubbing my shoulder reassuringly. I give him a confused look before he starts talking again, "I don't want you to see this."
Realization washes over me. "You gonna eat him?" 
"Just - just wait in the hallway." He says as he pulls me up to my feet. "Okay?"
"Okay," I mumble as I slowly make my way out of the room. I lean up against the wall and close my eyes. It's only a minute before I hear the vaultie begging.
"Stop. Stop Stop." The vaultie pleaded, "Please, I know it's hard out here but you don't, you don't have, you don't have to resort to... to..."
"What'd you say your name was?" Cooper asks her.
"Lucy MacLean." The vaultie replies hesitantly. 
"MacLean?" Cooper asks a hint of recognition in his voice. "Huh. Well, Lucy MacLean, it ain't all peaches and marmalade left up here, sweetheart. Sometimes a fella gotta eat another fella." 
Even from the hallway, I could hear the squishing from whatever he was doing in there. I felt nausea settle into my stomach, whether from the radiation or what Cooper was doing in the other room, I didn't know.
"You know, my vault has endured hardship too," Lucy said, pushing back. In the great plague of '77, everyone had to quarantine, they couldn't work the farms together, people starved. My mother included. My dad dropped to 128 pounds, and he still refused to do anything like this."
Cooper let out a deep chuckle at her words.
"What? What's so funny?" She asked, her voice dripping with venom.
"Well, there's what people say they did and what they really did." Cooper said, his accusation heavy in the air. "I'll bet your daddy was first in line at the cookout. I bet he had a bib with a drawing of his neighbor's ass on there."
"How do you live like this?" Lucy asks. "You obviously know it's wrong you sent her to the other room. So how do you do it? Why keep going?"
I open my eyes slowly at the mention of me. I didn't know if I could ever live like that, so Lucy's question piqued my interest as well. There was a heavy silence as I heard Cooper's footsteps making his way across the room.
"Well, one good question deserves another," Cooper responds, his voice was dark, sending a shiver down my spine. "Why the fuck am I doin' all the work? Now come on vaultie, ass jerky don't make itself."
This was a side of Cooper that I had not seen since the night we met. Ruthless. Cruel. It made me wonder was this who he really was. Or was the sweetness he has shown me his true self? It was probably a little bit of both. The silence in the building was deafening. It was a moment before I heard Lucy's soft footsteps in the sand. 
"She is actually gonna do it." I thought to myself in horror, letting out a soft gasp. 
Once they made their way out of the room, Lucy's hands were covered in blood and she had an empty expression on her face. She was clearly traumatized by what she had to do to Roger. Cooper didn't look at me as they made their way past. "Come on, darlin'."
-
It felt like forever since the incident with Roger, but it was hard to forget as his skin hung from Cooper's pack. The three of us hiked in silence, tension had returned to Cooper and me as neither of us knew what to say to the other. Cooper had started coughing some time ago. This filled me with dread, we needed to get him some Jet fast. Let alone, myself. I was getting sicker by the minute as I struggled with the poisoning from the river. My feet dragged in the sand behind Cooper as I struggled to keep up. 
Cooper dipped his canteen into some water pooled in an old barrel. My chest filled with jealousy. I ran out of water some time ago and the lack of food and water was becoming painful. He made eye contact with Lucy as she watched him drink. This wasn't the first time he had teased her about her lack of water. Desperate for a sip, she fell to her knees in front of the water, scooping it into her mouth. 
"Now you're gettin' it." Cooper mused as he watched her. "How does that golden rule jibe with what's goin' through your head right now?" 
"What are you?" Lucy asked angrily.
"Oh I'm you, sweetie, just give it a little time." He responded.
"Because of the radiation poisoning?" I asked, my voice cracking from dehydration.
Cooper turned to me with a serious look on his face, "Not gonna happen to you darlin'."
I gave him a small nod before I squeaked out, "Okay." I trusted him completely. 
As a coughing fit took over the ghoul, Lucy took her chance to make a run for it. I was torn between chasing after her and staying to comfort Cooper. Cooper started waving after her, signaling for me to chase her.
"Hey! Stop!" I yelled as I ran after her.
As we rounded the corner, she stopped to stare at the huge crater in the ground. I ran up next to her as I also marveled at the sight. I had never seen anything like that before. Suddenly, Cooper's lasso secured itself around Lucy's midsection as he pulled her down onto the ground.
"Where you think you're goin'? You ain't goin' nowhere." Cooper said as he stepped over her, leaning down to grab her face.
Lucy immediately responded by biting onto his finger and ripping it off with her teeth.
"Oh my god?!" I gasped out as I ran toward them. "Cooper."
He continued to keep his attention on Lucy. "There you are, you little killer." He said as he lifted her to her feet before grabbing ahold of her matching finger and cutting it off with his knife. "Now that right there is the closest thing to an honest exchange that we've had so far." He pocketed her finger before reaching down to pick up his own. "Here darlin'," He said as he handed me the rope that was tied to Lucy. 
I hesitantly took it as I watched him rummage around in his pack for a small rag to wrap his finger in. 
"You don't hurt, right?" I asked him.
"Don't feel a thing, sugar." He said smiling as he took the rope back from me. 
This exchange seemed to have depleted Lucy's resolve completely as she quietly obeyed from there on out. It wasn't long after that that we reached an old building with the word SuperDuperMart written on it. It was surrounded by a broken-down fence and had some old cars in the front of the building. I was nervous, but Cooper's confidence calmed me as we approached the building.
"Transaction," Cooper said as he pressed on some sort of communication device. He threw his bag into the dirt next to him. He looked tired.
"Yes?" Someone responded.
"Two month's supply of vials. Exchange one female mint condition." He stated before looking over at Lucy's hand, "Near mint condition."
"Condition grading requires physical evaluation. Please send her in." The voice responded, there was something strange about the voice that I couldn't recognize. It almost didn't sound human.
The door to the building buzzes and slowly opens. Lucy watched it with concern evident in her eyes, "What's in there?" She asked.
"You're about to find out," Cooper replies as he cuts the rope that bound her wrists.
"You're selling me?" Lucy asks, a look of disbelief on her face.
Cooper pulls a gun from his hip and cocks it, "You got problems out here too, sweetheart. Best you try your luck behind that door. Go on." He says as he shoves her.
I watch on from behind Cooper as Lucy shuffles her way into the building, giving a nervous look back before she enters.
Once she enters, Cooper deflates. He was obviously putting on a show for her. Pretending he wasn't as sick as he really was. "Y/n?"
"Cooper?" I ask breathlessly.  
Instead of responding, the ghoul collapsed.
"Cooper!" I yell out as I shake him. His eyes are open and he's still awake but for some reason, he was not able to move. 
I pushed the button he was using to communicate with the man inside the building. "He can't wait he needs it now!" Only to get no response. "We will give you another person! A female near mint conditon." I say, describing myself.
Cooper whispered out, "No." I could barely hear him. 
I crouch down next to him and place his hat next to him, "It's my turn to take care of you." I declared, giving him a sad smile. 
I took his gun and tried to shoot the door to break it. I had never used a gun before, so it took me a minute or two to figure out. The glass, however, appeared to be bulletproof. 
"Shit," I mumbled before placing the gun on the ground. 
I then decided to try and pry the door open with no such luck. I run between the cars around us, searching for anything I can use to open the door. In one of them, I find a crowbar. "Yes!" I yell happily as I run back to the door. I wrestled with it for a while before I finally was able to get the crowbar inside, finally, I had some progress. I yelled out in frustration as I tried to open the door. It was the heaviest thing I have ever felt in my life. Moving it just an inch took more strength than I had, especially in my state. 
After a couple minutes of struggling, I collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. I looked over at Cooper only to see he hadn't loved an inch. "Cooper?" I call out as I crawl towards him. I sit next to him and gently lift his head onto my lap, rolling him onto his back. "You'll be okay," I say quietly before looking up at the door. I was hoping that soon they would come out to give him the vials he was owed. The silence felt like it had been going on forever when there were suddenly gunshots coming from inside the building. I help Cooper a little closer, afraid and confused. I grabbed his gun again and held it close to my side. 
"I've got you, Coop," I whispered to him.
The building then went silent again. There was a moment before Lucy strolled out the door, covered in blood. 
"Lucy? What happened?" I gasp.
"They were going to harvest my fucking organs!" She yelled angrily as she sauntered over to us. 
I shakily hold up my gun, causing her to stop in her tracks. 
"He doesn't get these, he turns into one of those? That how it works?" She asked, holding up a couple vials. 
I lower the gun and start begging. "Please, Lucy."
She crouches down next to him and contemplates for a moment before saying to Cooper, "I may end up looking like you... but I'll never be like you." Before getting up, she gently puts some vials in my hand. "Golden rule, motherfuckers."
"Thank you! Thank you so much!" I cry out happily as I start rummaging through Cooper's pockets searching for his inhaler. "I've got you, I've got you.." I kept repeating as I shakily put the vial in the inhaler and hold it up to his mouth. It takes a couple tries, but ultimately, he gets ahold of it and breathed in the contents. I make a happy squeak as he starts to move again. 
He lets out a soft wheeze before saying 'Why the hell would you do that?" 
"What?" I asked him confused.
"You were going to fucking sell yourself? For me?" He states angrily as he sits up to a sitting position. 
"Well-" I start.
"Well, nothing. Never do that again." He shouts as he stands, pulling me up by my collar. The fear on my face softened him as he released my shirt with a sigh, "I ain't worth it, darlin'."
"You are to me," I say quietly. "You are never getting rid of me."
He lets out a small laugh as he smiles wearily, his resolve dimishing. "You are way too good for me, sugar."
"Well too bad, Cooper. You've got me." I say as kiss him on the cheek.
Just as I was pulling away he grabbed hold of my hip "Come here." He says as his lips crash into mine. 
I let out a squeak in surprise before I started to return the kiss. It was sloppy and heated, filled with pent-up emotions. It was everything I wanted.
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alltimefail · 4 months ago
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Agency Assignments: A comprehensive to-do list for saving Dead Boy Detectives!
I'm very easily overwhelmed, so I wanted to break down all the ways to help "Save Dead Boy Detectives" that I have seen floating around. This is meant to be something you can reference when you feel like there is so much you need and want to do to help, but don't know how or where to start.
Note: I will be updating this post as we go when necessary, so feel free to bookmark it in your browser for easy access, add it to your homepage, whatever! I'll always have a link to it in my Pinned Navigation post on my blog as well!
It is of the utmost importance that we fight as an organized, well-informed front. We need to be on the same page if we're going to save our show, so let's get into it! 💜💀🔎
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➪ First and foremost, follow @savethedeadboys! They're going to be our best resource during this fight.
➪ Next, follow @deadboyagency for news and updates: they've been around since the show dropped and have been an invaluable source of information the entire time.
Now for some task breakdowns:
"One-Time" Tasks
➪ Like the header says, these things can only be done once. Once you do them, you don't have to give them any space in your mind.
Sign the petition*
Review & Rate Dead Boy Detectives on Google, IMDB, Rotten Tomatoes. Be sure on IMDB you don't just rate the show as a whole, but you also rate each individual episode! You can also "Like" the show on Google and click "Watched" which helps the show's engagement scores. (If there are other popular sites I haven't listed here, feel free to share them and rate Dead Boy Detectives highly on them!)
Notify Netflix customer service (through their online chat feature) that you're unhappy with the cancelation of Dead Boy Detectives. This is a short, 5-minute task that I wrote a guide on (with an example message) here!
"Repeat" Tasks:
➪ These tasks can become a part of your daily routine; do what works best for you! You don't have to do every single one of these tasks every day if that is overwhelming!
Share the petition* over and over again, on every one of your socials! Make everyone you love sign it!
Stream Dead Boy Detectives!* Keep it on a loop in the background on low volume as much as possible. Try to get others to stream it as well, especially if they haven't watched it before! Netflix cares about VIEWS: views save shows and I broke down the reasoning here. (Bonus: if you post over on Twitter about your rewatch, use the tag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives)
Talk about Dead Boy Detectives!* You're probably doing that already, but just be sure that you're tagging your posts. Here on Tumblr use the "Dead Boy Detectives" tag at least (to boost our tag to trending) and anywhere that uses hashtags (Twitter, Facebook, Instagram for example) I would recommend #SaveDeadBoyDetectives and #DeadBoyDetectives as those seem to be the most commonly used tags! IMPORTANT: do not use more than 20 tags here on Tumblr! Any more than 20 and your posts might be marked as spam and hidden from the tags!
Create art, edits for TikTok, fics, gif sets, doodles, crafts, analysis posts, and so on for Dead Boy Detectives.* Having fun is important, too! This is an extension of the "Talk about Dead Boy Detectives" point, but it needs to be stated - don't remove the joy from the fight. If a drawing of our boys or a smutty fic with your favorite trickster cat king is what you can bring to the fight on any given day, that is a perfectly valuable contribution! It's not all emails and hashtags.
Daily request a show through Netflix. Bonus if you're signed in! (I do 3-5 times a day)
Send Emails advocating for Dead Boy Detectives (Email list & Email Template). You can do this as much as you want or just one time.
Send Snail-mail (physical letters) to Netflix advocating for Dead Boy Detectives. I also send a copy of my letters to Warner Bros. Studios. Again, you can do this one time or multiple times. There are dates set aside for "mass" mail sending as well, so check out info on that here!
Interact with articles posted about Dead Boy Detectives. Read them, share them, comment on them, thank the writer for writing them, etc. We want lots of press about the cancellation, and supporting journalists and publications will make them want to write about Dead Boy Detectives more.
NOTE: Anything marked with a * means it's extremely important; if you can only do a few things, these tasks are the ones that you should focus on first. Remember to take care of yourself. This is a marathon, not a sprint, so don't burn yourself out!
WE WILL SAVE THIS SHOW.
Say that to yourself as many times as it takes for you to believe it. We're doing this to get justice for the writers, the actors, for ourselves, and assert to these companies that diverse, queer stories are not disposable one-offs; they deserve to be told in full!
Hugs and Handshakes to you all - whatever will suffice. 💜 Always feel free to reach out if you have any questions, whether that be through private message or my ask box. I'm not going anywhere!
- V
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supernovafics · 9 months ago
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hiiii i just read your entire i’ll be there for you universe and I’M OBSESSED❤️❤️ Friends to lovers is my favourite trope ever and I love how you wrote a cute slow burn without characters being toxic and mean towards each other bc that happens a lot!
I was wondering how would their parents react to them being together?? And when do they decide to tell their parents, and how it goes down? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to write it but I thought it might be cute!🌸🌸
𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑
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"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist
pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 2.3k words
warnings: explicit language, fluff, implied smut, very slight parent drama
summary: in which your parents finally find out that you and steve are dating 
author's note: thanks for the request! (also for @hippiefairy02 since you requested basically the same thing like a week ago lol). i didn’t really know how to end this one so it kinda just ends lol<3 enjoy though<333
general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Spring 1986
The movie became long forgotten after only the first twenty minutes, which was somewhat of a routine at this point. It was a good thing that you both had seen this one already. 
If you were to look back at who started everything this time around you’d toss the blame onto Steve for initiating the first kiss, but he’d put the blame on you for settling yourself close into his side and giving him a “certain look.”
You were far from thinking about who started what, though, because all you could focus on was the feel of Steve settled on top of you and his mouth against yours. 
Your hands started traveling underneath his plain white t-shirt and one of his took hold of your hip, teasingly slipping a finger or two beneath the waistband of your small pajama shorts. Your legs were tangled with his in a way that was a bit awkward because the couch was way too small to do anything completely comfortably, but you two were okay with making it work for the time being. 
You maneuvered a bit, attempting to push up so that your head could find the pillow that was leaning against the arm of the couch, and the abrupt movement made your forehead bump his.
It didn’t even hurt, but Steve still pulled back and looked at you concerned. “You okay?”
You nodded as you tilted your head up a bit to press a quick kiss against his nose. “I’m fine. You okay?”
“‘M good.” He nodded too and then slotted his lips against yours again.  
You were pulling away after only a second. “Wait, let’s switch. I feel like I’m gonna accidentally knee you or something.”
“Or we can just go to one of our rooms,” He suggested as his lips found your neck, which immediately made your eyes slip shut and you had to bite your lip to hold back the contented sigh that you wanted to let out. 
You almost said yes to Steve’s words, it would’ve been so easy to say yes, but you were trying to keep your thinking somewhat rational, so you shook your head instead. “If we do that, we’re not gonna come out for the rest of the night. And we said that we’d at least try to study for the test we have on Thursday once the movie’s over.”
“The movie we’re not watching,” He mumbled against your neck. 
“Still counts,” You said, lightly pushing him away, and he conceded as you shifted things around so that you were on top of him, settled nicely in his lap with your legs on either side of him. “See? Much better.” 
Before he could potentially say anything in response, you pushed a hand through his hair and leaned down to kiss him. His fingers started teasingly playing with the hem of your t-shirt before simply finding a home on your hips and squeezing you there. 
It was almost too obvious what should’ve happened next and both of you could feel the energy shifting into something a bit more heated, more needy. You would’ve lifted from his lap for a second so that he could slide down his sweatpants and boxers, and then you’d simply pull your underwear and shorts to the side because it would’ve been too much work to fully shimmy out of them. 
But then the phone started ringing in the kitchen and everything that felt like it was right on the verge of happening was pushed out of the window.  
You detached your mouth from Steve’s and sat up. “I’ll get it.”
He let out a groan, head falling back against the throw pillow and hands still on your hips. “Don’t.”
“We have six needy kids and a Robin, I think we have to answer it.”  
“Sadly, that makes sense,” His grip on you loosened and you finally maneuvered off of him after pressing a quick kiss against his forehead. 
You went to the kitchen, where the phone was, and picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hi,” It was easy to decipher your mom’s voice on the other end of the line. “What are you doing Saturday?”
It wasn’t surprising to you that your mom completely skipped past any sort of small talk; the “How are you’s” and “How’ve you been’s.” She always got straight to the point. 
“Me and Steve are gonna be out of town this weekend,” You answered. “I planned this whole date thing and we leave Friday night.” 
It was completely accidental; so accidental that at first, you didn’t even register what you had just told her.
“You and Steve are what?” 
“We’re gonna be in Chicago this weekend for—” You stopped abruptly, finally realizing what you said before. “Oh. Oh, yeah, um, we’re dating.” 
Her gasp was immediate. “Oh my God.”
You couldn’t decipher what that reaction was. She sounded surprised, definitely, but you couldn’t tell if it was a happy kind of surprise or upset.
“How long has it been?”
“A few months.” You shut your eyes then, bracing yourself for what you knew was about to be nothing short of an interrogation.
“What? Why haven’t you told us sooner?”
In all honesty, it wasn’t like either you or Steve were planning on keeping it from your parents forever, it had just never come up in the handful of conversations you’d had with them over the last few months. 
“It’s just, I don’t know. It hadn’t come up yet,” You ultimately answered. “And plus, you never really cared that much about my other relationships.”
“Sure, but Steve’s completely different. This is great!” She told you, and you inwardly sighed in relief that she was happy about the news; even though you were certain that you wouldn’t have cared about having her “approval” either way. “Does Christine know?” 
“No.” 
“Okay, I’m gonna call her right now,” Your mom told you, and you were actually perfectly okay with her ending the call with you right then to go call Steve’s mom instead. “Oh, this is so great!”
She was hanging up before you could say anything else and you were sighing as you placed the phone back on the hook.
“I’m sorry,” You told Steve as you joined him back on the couch. 
He looked at you, confused. “What happened?”
“I accidentally just told my mom that we’re dating, and now she’s calling your mom to tell her too.”  
“Oh, okay, that’s not that bad,” He shrugged. “I guess it had to happen eventually.”
“Yes, but I was kinda hoping that that day would be years from now. Like, when we sent out wedding invitations or something.” 
In your head, telling your friends about you and Steve was one thing, but telling your parents was something entirely different. Your friends were heavily involved in your life, and you knew that you couldn’t keep it from them forever because of that; and then it eventually just felt right to finally be honest about it, anyway. 
Telling your parents, on the other hand, was the farthest thing from your mind. 
“They would probably kill us if we did that. Especially our moms because you know that they’re gonna wanna be involved in the whole thing,” Steve told you, and you knew he was right. 
There were some few and far in-between moments where your parents would switch and pretend to be real parents that were actually involved in their kid’s life. Usually, it only happened during the holidays; Christmases spent pretending that you were a happy and normal family or Thanksgivings that were used to prove the same thing. In a way, it made sense for this news to warrant that same kind of treatment.
You groaned as you leaned further into Steve. “I hate that you’re right.”
Your mom was calling back barely twenty minutes later, right as the two of you were in the middle picking up where you had left off before the first call. Steve answered that time, pulling his sweatpants back up and heading over to the kitchen, and you slipped your shirt back over your head.
“Oh, um, yeah, that’s fine. That night is good,” You heard him say. “We’ll be there.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at whatever he was agreeing to right then.  
He hung up a few moments later and gave you an apologetic look. “Okay, now I’m the one that needs to say sorry.”
“What happened?”
“It was your mom,” Steve started as he sat next to you again. “She said she talked to my mom and they’re both really happy about us dating. And they decided that they wanna have a “celebratory dinner” kind of thing with us.”
“No.”
Steve nodded. “It’s gonna be at your parent’s house on Thursday since she knows that we’re going to Chicago for the weekend. I couldn’t think of an excuse on the spot, so I was just agreeing.”
“Oh, God. I feel like this is gonna be like Thanksgiving all over again.”
“Hopefully the dessert is better this time around,” He said, attempting to lighten the mood, and you let out a laugh. 
“If not, then we will definitely be ending the night at Third Street,” You told him and he nodded in agreement before pulling you into his lap. 
“Can we please go to my room?” He asked, arms circling around you. “I feel like the couch is cursed.”
You smiled, lips finding his for a brief second. “Okay, yes, I’ll allow it.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
This night didn’t feel anything like the Thanksgiving dinner that you and Steve had been forced to have all those months ago; at least, not at first. During that night, your parents had gone on and on about their ski trip that was coming up and there were barely any moments where the conversation was focused on you and Steve. 
Now things were different because all they cared about was talking about you two, which did make sense given the reasoning for the dinner. But still, you knew your parents, and this amount of excited fanfare surrounding the two of you felt entirely unexpected. 
Your dad was jokingly giving his “stamp of approval” for the relationship, and Steve’s dad was saying something about how you’d always been a good influence on Steve. And then your moms went on tangent after tangent going down memory lane and telling stories about you and Steve as kids. 
“I’d been hoping this would happen ever since the cruise,” Christine said, a happy smile on her face. “You two were practically attached at the hip the entire time, and that still hasn’t changed.” 
“Yes, you guys were always so cute together. Oh, and remember when you took each other to your proms? I think I still have the pictures somewhere,” Your mom said, smiling happily as well, and you honestly wouldn’t have even minded if she brought out the pictures. 
Eventually, though, things shifted, and toward the end of dinner, the conversation moved away from you and Steve. Instead, your parents started reminiscing about old moments from their collective friendship that didn’t involve you and Steve at all. This made sense to you; you knew that it could only be a matter of time before they finally started talking about themselves.   
With the topic of you and Steve long forgotten, you two slipped away from the table, no one noticing or stopping you, and retreated to your old bedroom that was just down the hall. 
You sat at the foot of your old bed and watched as Steve simply walked around, taking a look at the things that you had decided to leave behind and not bring along to the apartment. 
You kicked your shoes off and crossed your legs under you. “Tonight actually hasn’t been completely unbearable.” 
“Yeah, weirdly, it hasn’t,” Steve agreed as he walked over to you and leaned down to press a kiss against the top of your head. “There’s no dessert though, so we’ll have to go to Third Street.”
“Do you think they’d notice if we slipped out of my window right now?” 
He laughed a bit. “Fifty-fifty shot.”
“Personally, I wouldn’t mind taking those odds,” You said, smiling up at him. 
“I would say okay, but I think I have to be the reasonable one here and say that we should just walk out the front door like normal people.”
His words only made you smile wider because usually, it was you who would say the logical thing to do in situations.
“We’ve swapped roles tonight,” You said as you stood up and put your shoes back on. “I think you do a great job as the reasonable one.” 
“I don’t like it. You can have that job back after tonight,” He told you, smiling as his hand found yours.
You only nodded as you and he headed out of your bedroom. Your parents were still at the dining table, laughing about something that you didn’t hear. 
“Hey, we’re gonna head out. We have to wake up early tomorrow, so yeah,” You said, pulling their attention onto you and Steve. It was a lie, but it felt like it would be a plausible enough excuse. “Thanks for tonight.” 
“Yeah, it was great,” Steve agreed with a quick nod. 
A slew of “Goodnight’s” and “Drive safe’s” came from your parents, which you two nodded and smiled at before exiting your house. 
You let out a sigh of relief once you were sat in the passenger seat of Steve’s car. 
The night hadn’t been horrible, you’d experienced much worse dinners with your parents. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t glad that this one was over. 
“So, are we gonna be basic tonight and do milkshakes, or have whatever pie Mary made for the night?” You asked as you played with the radio and then left it on a station that you’d probably end up changing in a minute or two. 
Steve took a quick glance at you and smiled. “If she made apple, then I think the answer is obvious.”
“Very true,” You nodded and smiled back at him. 
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
let me know ur thoughts<333
(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)
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talaok · 1 year ago
Text
Movie night
Summary: Peter's coming over for your weekly movie night, and you’ve decided you wanna confess your feelings for him, but as it turns out, he has similar plans
Warnings: Smut| unprotected p in v sex, praising, soft!Dom Peter
a/n: thanks to this request I might go back into my Peter Parker era honestly. Also, @wtvbabes (this is not the person that made the request)
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It was time for the weekly movie night with Peter, 
You had been doing it for so long that you didn't even remember how or when it started, it was now simply a part of your routine.
Every Friday night, at 6 o'clock you went to whatever house was free, ordered pizza, and watched a movie each of you had chosen.
It was routine, so you shouldn't have been nervous... except that this time, this time wasn't gonna be like the other times, this time you had made a promise to yourself that you were finally gonna come clean, that you were finally gonna confess your feelings.
You had been keeping it a secret for way too long, and you were tired... god, were you tired, it was exhausting pretending like you didn't want more, like you didn't wanna kiss him and hold his hand every time you were together, and perhaps it was the holiday spirit surrounding you, or perhaps it was the fact that Gemma, your other best friend, had given you a 30-minute talk about how you should just "stop being a little bitch and tell him already" after you had started your usual ramble about how perfect and great Peter was,
But you had made peace with yourself, if this was gonna ruin your entire friendship, if you were gonna lose him forever, then so be it, because at the end of the day, if you couldn't have him like you really wanted to, then there was no point in having him at all.
And just then, when you were repeating your script to the mirror for the thousandth time, the words coming out of your mouth not even making sense anymore, he knocked at the door.
For some reason, a gasp fled your throat, but after the familiar "hey, it's me" from the other side of the door all you could do was take a deep breath and fix your dress.
It's all gonna be ok, it's all gonna be ok
"hi" you smiled, opening the door
Your anxiety must have been all over your face because the way he frowned at you told you everything you needed to know.
"hi" he said, coming into the house as he inspected your face "is something wrong?" he asked "Please don't tell me your sister changed the password to her Netflix again"
You forced a smile to your lips "no, no everything is fine- let's just... sit down"
"ok..." he frowned, following you as you sat on the couch "did something happen, or-"
"no" you shut him down "I-I just wanted" You shook your head as you regretted your choice of words "no actually, I need to- uhm- to tell you something"
You watched his eyes widen slightly, but out of all the things he could have said, he chose the only one that made you even fucking more anxious.
"Really?" he smiled "That's funny 'cause I do too"
You swore you felt your heart stop beating.
What could he ever need to tell you?
"w-what?" 
Your voice didn't even sound like your own, it was just fear and stress finding a way to come out of your body.
"yeah" he nodded, watching you closely "so... you wanna go first or..."
"no, no, you go first" you spit out, making him chuckle
He still didn't get why you were acting so weird, but to be perfectly transparent, he was kind of freaking out internally himself, so he didn't really have the brain capacity to investigate further.
"Alright" he laughed "I'll go first"
His eyes focused behind you for a moment as he prepared for whatever was coming, and just then, did you notice that perhaps you weren't the only nervous one.
What is it?
Did something happen
Oh god, did he find a girlfriend?
Your heart was beating out of your chest and then just like that, he came out and said: "Y/n I like you" with a hopeful smile on his face, while yours completely stilled.
Actually not just your face, you as a whole went completely still, frozen at the words that had just come out of his mouth
Did I just imagine that?
Am I dreaming or something?
What the actual fuck is going on?
That was supposed to be my lin-
"y/n are you there?"
He was talking to you, you realized.
"w-w-what?" your eyes were wide open in shock 
"I know" he smiled, scratching the back of his neck, "I know it's out of the blue, and I really really hope this won't ruin anything, but... I've been feeling like this for a long time about you, and I just- I needed to tell you"
And then you could do nothing, absolutely nothing but throw your arms around him, hugging him so tight he probably couldn't breathe.
"y/n?" he murmured, hugging you back, but before he could say anything else you leaned away, still holding onto him as if he were a life jacket, and smiled like an idiot.
"I like you too Peter-" you grinned "I really really like you"
The smile on his face now matched yours, as his eyes sparked with joy
"you do?"
"of course I do!" you almost yelled from the excitement "that's-that's what I wanted to tell you! I can't believe this"
You looked into each other's eyes, both incredulous and unbelievably happy altogether, 
you were so close, but an inch between your faces, that what happened next was inevitable.
His lips were on yours, 
his lips were on yours and they felt every bit as good as you had spent hours and hours imagining.
And then for a moment, you both leaned away, looking at each other as soft silly laughs fled your throats.
"i can't believe this is real" he breathed, melting your heart right into a puddle
"I can't either"
And then his lips were back on yours, but this time... this time he was hungrier.
His tongue was exploring your mouth, and his hands were one holding your face, while the other started roaming your body, pulling soft whimpers from you as your arms remained locked behind his neck, your left hand gently playing with his hair,
And then in no time, without a clue of how or when, you were lying on the couch, and he was on top of you, his legs parting your thighs.
And you didn't need to know when it had happened, because all you knew was that you liked it, god you really fucking liked it.
His whole broad and strong body was engulfing yours, his scent was all around you, his hands were everywhere, and his mouth... his mouth was simply heavenly.
As embarrassing as it was, you couldn't control your body as you started grinding down onto his leg to try and relieve some of the need pooling between your legs.
"please" you pleaded, whimpering softly into the kiss.
"I like it when you beg, sweetheart"
And if you wanted him before, you now needed him
His lips moved to your neck, starting a slow trail from just below your ear, down until he found your shirt as an obstacle.
You didn't need to be told twice and helped him take it off of you in a second.
Your bra wasn't far behind.
"god, you're so beautiful" he praised, making you blush 
he bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it while his other hand played with the other one, making you lose your goddamn mind as you shut your eyes in ecstasy.
"oh my god" you moaned, one of your hands going to his hair as he switched up the breast he was taking care of.
Your panties were completely drenched
He continued his work as his hands traveled underneath your skirt, caressing your thighs in a way that was turning you into a putty mess in his hands.
His fingers gripped the edge of the fabric, and with the help of you raising your hips, only the sheer fabric of your panties divided him from where you begged for his attention
"Peter" you called, stopping him as he had seated himself in between your legs
"yes, sweetheart?"
"I-I've only ever done this once"
His features softened and one of his hands traveled to your face to cup your cheek as he left a soft kiss on your lips
"don't worry, I'll go slow," he promised "I'll take care of everything, you just relax, ok?"
"ok" You nodded softly "I trust you"
He smiled at that, kissing you again "Thank you"
And no more than a few seconds after that, you were completely bare before him.
"you're perfect sweetheart" he murmured "fucking perfect"
He left a kiss on your pussy, making you moan, before his lips were on you again, and you were more desperate than you had ever been.
Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, frantically trying to get it off of him.
"Peter please take this off"
He didn't need to be told twice.
His shirt was on the floor with the rest of your clothes in no time, and then came his pants.
He went back to kissing you, the kiss now a heated mess between your moans and his hunger.
"baby please" you whined, your hand going to his boxers 
"what do you want sweetheart?"
"you, please, all of you"
Your voice was so thin and so breathy it was almost incomprehensible
"what about me?" he asked, his mouth next to your ear "You want my cock sweetheart, is that what you want?"
"yes" you moaned, as his hand played with your clit "I'm begging you, please, I need you inside of me"
He freed his cock from the confines of his briefs, as he kept kissing your neck
"you're gonna be good?" he asked, his tip now collecting all your juices and making you squirm uncontrollably "you're gonna be good and take all of it?"
"yes" you breathed "yesplease, yes-"
And without so much as a warning, he had started to push into you
"told you I like hearing you beg"
You moaned so loud you surprised even yourself, and then he retracted his hips and pushed another inch of himself in you, and you were just about ready to die.
"O-oh my god, P-peter" you moaned
He made the same motion again, and you couldn't help but look down at where your bodies were meeting, and that's when you noticed,
"fuck you're so big" you breathed, watching as he thrust only half of his dick inside of you
"it's ok" he purred, kissing your neck sloppily "Just be a good girl and take it" he ordered, pushing in again "Take it all inside this tight little pussy"
A high-peached moan fled your mouth again, as your pussy stretched around him,
"just like that," he said, his hot breath fanning over your skin "That's a good girl"
He was now fully inside you, by some miracle, he had made himself fit, and he felt absolutely perfect.
"fuck you feel so good" he groaned, picking up his pace "so tight" he grunted, feeling your walls squeeze him better than anything ever before "like you were made for me" his thrusts somehow felt deeper now, resulting in even more moans and cries coming out of your mouth
"O-oh god" you whimpered, feeling him hit and hit and hit again that perfect spot inside of you.
"You're taking me so well sweetheart"
The couch was now shaking with each of his movements, while your brain had stopped working and all you could do was cry out as he brought heaven to you.
"look at you" he murmured, kissing your mouth "So beautiful" he praised "so fucking pretty" he groaned, as your walls tightened around him "squeezing me so good" 
His thrusts were so fucking deep you could feel them in your belly, and your orgasm was inevitably approaching
"such a good girl"
A louder moan left your throat at that, and he definitely noticed
"you like it when I call you that?" he asked, smirking devilishly "You like hearing that you're my good girl?"
Again, another cry, followed by a frantic nod now.
Your ability to talk had been lost a while ago.
"It's just what you are" he purred in your ear now "You're my good girl y/n, only mine"
And that, that sent you definitively over the edge.
A series of cries and moans resembling his name came out of your mouth as the best orgasm of your life took over your body completely.
He waited for you to come down from your high before he pulled out of you, spilling his seed all over your belly not a second later.
"fuck" he muttered, his head falling to the crook of your neck
You stayed there for a moment, waiting for your heartbeats and breathing to calm down,
And only then, only after you spent five minutes in the most comfortable silence, did he lean away to look at you.
"I love you, Peter"
You couldn't stop yourself from saying it, it was just the truth
And not a beat had passed, that he had already answered
"I love you, y/n"
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