#i think ive seen this once on here ? still

[bugsoda]

The Buyerarchy of Needs

made by Sarah Lazarovic, from her book “A Bunch of Pretty Things I Did Not Buy” ^-^

[sollucets]

hi everyone :’) i havent been on tumblr much lately because i am 1) not watching anything and 2) still dealing with the effects of a bunch of fun medical stuff! i am doing ok but my body hates me so so so much lately. i have the energy and ability(?) to do only a few very specific things right now (play elden ring, let youtube forcefeed me kpop videos, languish) and that does not include watch show or make gif or even write no matter how much i might want to. so. this is how it is haha. miss u guys

[sonknuxadow]

"can i have jet the hawk action figure"

"we have jet the hawk action figure at home"

jet the hawk action figure at home:

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Oh hello father todd

[bangcakes]

.

[exculis]

i was friends w this one kid in elementary school despite the fact that we seemingly didnt have much in common but we were still buddies

found out later that she's a trans woman now, which is so cool. but i wonder if our childhood bond was just the transness auras finding each other before we even knew. well idk she mightve already known she was trans but i sure didnt yet lol

[forehead451]

stream of consciousness type deal.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Christmas Showdown

In which you and Lando run into an ex-boyfriend while you're home for the holidays.

Warnings: talk of abusive relationship (no details though). Established relationship. Protective Lando. This could probably be better and it's pretty short buttttttt I needed to get this out of my head, so enjoy! Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader Word Count: 1.8k words

Master List

It had been several years since you spent the holidays in your small Midwestern hometown. Usually, your family flew out to London or Monaco to spend the holiday’s with you there, much preferring to leave Michigan’s several feet of snow that was typically on the ground during Christmas. This year was different thought. Your grandmother had been too ill to make the long flight so instead, you came to them. Which was fine with you, you had missed seeing friends that were home for the holidays and missed the nostalgic nights spent around the Christmas tree with your family. The one person who was not fine with it, however, was your boyfriend. 

Lando Norris simply hated the cold. He hated being cold. Hated thinking about the cold. Hated the snow. Anytime the temperature dipped below 50 degrees Fahrenheit ( which also a fight you two had often was how he refused to learn the difference between Fahrenheit and Celsius while also simultaneously refusing to do the same for him.) So you knew he must really be down bad for you when he had agreed (albeit a bit sluggishly) to spend the Christmas holiday with you in your (freezing) hometown. 

There was minimal complaining for the first few days you were at home, mostly because it the weather was fair enough to not be something comparable to the North Pole, but trouble arose the day of your Aunt and Uncle’s infamous Christmas party. The first sign of trouble was your brother’s insistence on a family outing to the sledding hill that was a few miles from your house. Of course Lando had packed several parkas but when he had seen the Canada Goose store in the mall the day before, he had bought the thickest, best cold rated puffer jacket he could find. Despite that and several layers of long johns and sweaters, by the time you reached the sledding hill your poor boyfriend was shivering like your grandma’s ancient chihuahua. 

To his credit though, there was not one single utterance of a complaint or plea to go back to your parents house for a cup of hot chocolate then entire time. Lando happily chased your nieces and nephews around the sledding hill and even went down the hill a few times with you. 

“Okay, folks!” Your dad calls out as the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky. “I think it’s time we all head home and get ready for Judy and Steve’s party tonight. I expect everyone to be at their house by 7pm sharp!” The ‘this reminder is for your benefit’ look that your dad sends you has your already wind chapped face turning even more red. 

“I don’t know why you’re glaring at me! I’m always on time!” You shout, grabbing for Lando’s hand. “We’ll see you guys tonight!” 

Once you get in the Range Rover that Lando had rented for the two week visit, he immediately turns the heated seats on full power and cranks up the heat. 

“Do you want to swing by Starbucks and get something warm before going home?” You ask as Lando pulls out of the park and onto the snowy street. “I feel like I might need to just get you an IV of hot chocolate at this point.” 

Lando gives you a sidelong glare. “I think I have icicles in my nose hairs.” 

Laughter tumbles out of you, quick and light, sending a thrill of pleasure down Lando’s spine. You two had been dating for a few years now and there were still times he’d look over at you and think ‘how the fuck did I convince this girl to be my girlfriend?’. You had come into his life at a particularly challenging time and had been his rock since day one. 

“Starbucks it is, my poor little snowman. There’s one up here in this strip mall. Turn left at this light and then it’s on the right.” 

The parking lot, which is a shared lot with several other big box stores, is an absolute zoo and you can see the line snaking around the inside of the Starbucks before you even go in. To save some time, Lando drops you off at the front door while he goes and finds a spot for the large SUV. 

The line is long when you get inside but you’re thankful to at least be out of the bitter cold. While you wait in line, you mindlessly scroll on your Instagram, which is locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Going private on all socials and not being featured heavily on Lando’s had been one of the things you two had agreed upon when things started getting serious nearly two years ago now. People who were huge Lando fans knew who you were but the casual F1 fan probably wouldn’t have been able to pick you out of a lineup. 

Your casually scrolling, minding your own business, when a deep voice calling your name jolts you out of your little social media bubble. 

“Jeff?” You sputter, surprised to see your college boyfriend standing in front of you in line, huge smile on his face. 

Jeff had been one of the guys you and your best friends had drooled over in high school, having been nearly two years ahead of you when you were teens. You didn’t start dating him until your freshman year of college, when he was already a junior. To say the man was toxic was an understatement. In fact, now that you had a few years distance between the now and the end of the relationship, you could confidently say Jeff had been pretty abusive. 

“Hey, stranger!” He says, leaning in for a hug. You go completely still, totally unprepared to be faced with the man who had caused you so much trauma in the two years you had dated. “I have’t seen you in ages, visiting your family for the holidays?” 

You toss a look over your shoulder, desperately wishing for Lando to come walking in the door. “Uh, yeah. First time in a few years. I usually fly them over to London or Monaco for the holidays.” 

A dark shadow passes over Jeff’s face at the mention of where you live now. “Monaco, huh? You always thought you were too good for us here, didn’t you?” 

Your stomach twists painfully at the look in his eyes and you briefly consider just turning around and walking right out of the Starbucks without your drinks.

Before you can stutter out a response, a strong pair of large hands wraps around your waist as Lando drops his head onto your shoulder. “Darling. Baby. Sweetheart. Love of my life." Lando croons in your ear, not yet picking up on your body language. "I adore you but why the fuck did you have to be born in a place where the air hurts your face?” 

You laugh stiffly despite yourself. “Talk to my parents about that one, love.” 

Lando drops a kiss on your cheek before looking over at the other man. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.” 

Across from you, Jeff had been watching this exchange between Lando and you with an increasing amount of annoyance. Who the fuck was this and why was he calling you the love of his life? 

“Lando, this is Jeff.” You turn slightly, giving Lando a knowing look which he catches onto immediately. “Jeff, this is my boyfriend, Lando.” 

“That’s an interesting name. Only heard that name twice before, once in Star Wars and…” Jeff’s voice drops off as he finally makes the connection. “Wait. Lando…as in Lando Norris?” 

The smug grin that stretches across Lando’s face nearly has you giggling. “That’s me. And you’re Jeff, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you. None of it good.” 

Lando remembered the first time you had ever opened up to him a few months into dating about how you had been in an abusive relationship in college and how much work it had taken to recover from it. He had been your first serious relationship after leaving Jeff, having left the country just to get away from him. Internally, Lando raged at the man standing in front of you two, the protective instinct in him screaming to just lay the guy out right here.

Jeff’s already ruddy face turns red with incandescent rage. You had totally forgotten he was a big Formula One fan and when you remember the fact that not only is he an F1 fan, but a huge McLaren fan, the urge to giggle hits you again. Oh, this was just too good. 

“How’d you…” Jeff stutters. “How’d you manage to bag yourself a Formula 1 driver?” 

The question is a pathetic attempt to rile you up and insult you but both you and Lando see that question for exactly what it is. 

Lando plants another kiss on your cheek and you know he’s doing it to be an asshole. “I was actually the one who pursued her. She turned me down left and right for nearly a year, didn’t you baby?” 

You nod, remembering the way Lando had come into your office at the McLaren Tech Center day after day just to make small talk at first but finally had worked up the nerve to ask you out. You were one of the newer people on the comms team back then and you hand’t wanted to jeopardize the career you had worked so hard for so you had turned him down for nearly a year, insisting that you wanted nothing more than a friendship with the driver. 

“But eventually, he wore me down. He flew me to Monaco and took me out on his yacht for our first date, it was all very romantic.” It had actually been Max’s yacht, but Jeff didn’t need to know that bit. 

You can see Jeff practically seething at this point, knowing that you’re doing so well and he’s still apparently stuck in your hometown. 

“And how are you doing, Jeff? Still working at your dad’s law firm? How is Vance doing? And Laura?” You know it’s killing him, asking about his parents by their first name. 

Jeff just blinks at you for a few moments, realizing you weren’t the little girl he used to push around and take advantage of in college anymore. “Made partner last year, actually.” 

“That must be easy to do when your dad owns the practice, huh?” Lando says, voice nothing but light innocence. 

Jeff’s eyes bounce between you and Lando for several moments before he suddenly reaches into his pocket. “If you’d excuse me, it looks like the office is calling me.” 

“A call from the office the day before Christmas! Gosh, you must be very important, Jeffery.” Lando’s low blow to Jeff’s big ego hits true and without another word, the man scampers out of the Starbucks without a second glance in your direction. 

Once he’s gone, both you and Lando dissolve into giggles, your head finding it’s favorite spot on Lando’s shoulder. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to deck you there are the end.” 

“And mess up his pretty lawyer hands? Honey, I doubt he even knows how to throw a punch.” 

tag list @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago

[midnite-c6]

ive been thinking of a scenario where namgyu’sgf!reader has been secretly hooking up with thanos as pay back for namgyu being a shitty boyfriend.. makes me die😩

meow so hot bruh thanos is so sexy it makes me so sad 😿 NEED THAT! pt. 2 | pt. 3

thanos(choi su-bong) x nam-gyu'sgf!reader imagine!! <33

warnings: 18+, cheating

you, nam-gyu, and su-bong were truly a powerful trio, you guys were all tight-woven friends being stringed together of partying and drugs before you decided to start dating nam-gyu, nothing changed much, but it was weird to know what was once your homie is now someone you fuck on the daily.

sadly, now nam-gyu just sucks, as a boyfriend, and as a person in general. he doesn't even take the time of his day to touch or even kiss you! ignoring all your texts with an "i'm busy." was stupid! he was stupid! what was he doing in the club anyway?? was he banging another chick?? why shouldn't you do the same?

you'd go visit his club in search of your boyfriend, only running into su-bong, or thanos as he's known for. "señorita?" oh that nick-name you were so familiar of. you'd think su-bong would still be out of the country, since he's gotten that big rap battle overseas, or because he's trying to escape his debt but you're still pleased to see run into him. "su-bong!, damn it, have you seen nam-gyu?" he pouted dramatically "i haven't seen you in weeks and ya' immediately talk about your boyfriend? whore." the last word was mumbled under his breath. you roll your eyes, you were used to giving and getting mean nicknames anyway, "fuck you, i heard that! but.. c'mon, have you??" "of course not, i just got here, angel, why are you looking for him?" you sigh. "because he's my boyfriend. what else?" thanos just remained looking at you, as if telling you to spill more. ".. and i think he's fucking another girl." he gasps, as a sarcastic reaction, "whaaat? no way, who would've thought." you furrow your brows. "what?! you know about this??" he shakes his head, chuckling to himself "nah. but he's a man, and the same pussy gets old after some time." he said, like it was a matter-of-fact thing that you should know.

"oh that jerk, i'm gonna fucking kill hi-" thanos pulls you back to him. "don't blame the guy, it's just normal boy stuff, you get it, right?" you scoff, "no. plus, my pussy doesn't just ... "get old!" " he tilts his head, "ehhhh. you've been dating for like what, 1 year? even i'll get pretty tired of it." you groaned. "i didn't ask you, su-bong. i know he's... he's better than that." he places a hand on the back of your neck, lightly petting you. "mmmm, if you think about it, if he's fucking another girl, how does it make you feel, babe?" you don't think, you respond immediately. "angry! that's what." "...and?" "it makes me want to ..i dunno. do something."

"guess you're in luck that i came here then."

"huh?" and before you know it, you're being dragged to one of the VIP rooms..

nsfw below!!->

"fuck.. man, all that days of fucking and god, he hasn't even stretched this cunt." he says as he guides your hips in a speedened pace, being kind enough to push his hips up to the rhythm of yours, he'd moan out from how you were clenching him. "p-please.."

"you're so tight, shit." in these moments, you'd forget about your shitty boyfriend, how you're cheating on nam-gyu inside his very own club. thanos pulls out before the two of you could ever release, making you go on your knees as he lines up his dick right inside your mouth. you could see him grabbing his phone and facing it above you, a red light near the camera. the video captured your muffled, disgusting moans against his dick, you seemed challenged, it seemed like you were trying to prove you were still good at it. it could also capture su-bong's praises, ones you could barely hear.

"you're doing so goood.."

"how could anyone ever get tired of this cunt?."

"you should look at yourself right now, baby."

and after all that, he'd place you on his lap, it wasn't much of an aftercare, but it was good enough.

"you enjoyed it? yeah?" you nod. "i just .. hope he doesn't find out..hmph.." "yeah, yeah, he's my best friend, can't let that happen." you smiled from the assurance, resting your head on su-bong's shoulders. you were too fucked out to hear how he was tapping the send button on his phone, sending his good ol' homie the video of you sucking his cock, typing away to send the text 'got your fine shyt sucking me off bro, what happened?', they're both jerks, guess the both of them really can't care less about you and your feelings huhu :<

also dat pussy is power 🙏��� this is so mean to namgyu but at rhe same time the prompt is so hot. hehe.

[tiredeyesight]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ in your mind (mattheo riddle x fem! reader)

summary : mattheo riddle, your sworn enemy, forgets about your ability to hear others thoughts

mattheo fucking riddle, waltzes into the class as if he owns the place. that stupid smirk and knowing eyes that he could do anything for salazars sake and not get into any trouble. flitwicks dismay is obvious, yet he does nothing but instruct riddle to take a seat just behind you. now your dismay was obvious, riddle had been your sworn enemy for as long as you could remember however you couldn’t really remember why.

‘oi y/l/n, what’re we doing?’ riddle questions you. ‘come on time and focus to find out’ you respond and for some odd reason there was no sarcastic comment or any insult thrown your way. just silence from mattheo. despite your normal dislike for your abilities to hear other’s thoughts, you used it. just this once.

voices boomed and echoed through your head, clashing together and combining until you focused in on one particular annoyingly attractive voice. ‘god why does she have to be so pretty’ you hear from the same voice that had called you a multitude of opposing mocks. surely he wasn’t talking about you. ‘her hair is so gorgeous, looks so soft, i just wanna play with it ugh.’ to confirm you weren’t dreaming, you dropped your pencil and turned your head. all you saw was his dark, rich brown eyes completely focused on you.

‘i always forget how beautiful her eyes are, this lighting doesn’t do them justice.’ and there was your confirmation.

for the rest of the lesson, you couldn’t focus on the work only on the handsome yet annoying boy behind you who hadn’t stopped thinking about you. as the bell rings you shove your items away in a haste determined to learn more about this admiration for you. the halls become flooded with kids rushing to get to their dorms or the hall for a quick snack before dinner yet all you were focused on was mattheo riddle.

he turned into a quiet hallway and you followed suit, your presence becoming known to him. ‘what are you doing here?’ he asks with irritation in his voice, a very fake irritation as all he could think about was ‘i want her so bad’. you walked closer towards him with a small smile plastered on your face, almost chest to chest and whispered the words, ‘for being someone you hate, i’m sure on your mind a lot’.

a blush rose to his cheeks, ‘i don’t know what you’re talking about.’ a continuous, ‘fuck fuck fuck, i forgot she can hear peoples thoughts’, jostled through his mind. a small giggle arose from your sweet lips and that’s all it took for mattheo to completely fold. ‘christ all right, you caught me’ he started, ‘im like head over heels for you, even with our little fights it makes me fall more in love with you every single time. you’re just so gorgeous and so kind, the complete opposite to me yet im totally obsessed with you.’ a smile that you had never seen before appeared on his face.

you were in complete shock, this was almost the last thing you expected from him of all people. mattheo riddle. yet you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach exploded in flutters by his words and how you suddenly became speechless. ‘can i kiss you’, you uttered out after moments of silence. ‘please.’

author note : i feel like this may be the most common thing ive ever wrote but hey it’s common for a reason so live laugh love i guess. and as always requests are still open!!

word count : 557

[stylesispunk]

Blind faith | part iv

priest!Joel miller x nigth club dancer! Reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: the one where the cardinal comes to visit priest joel due to the whispers around town but he ended up breaking the vows he swore to keep once.

wc: 13,8k

warnings: age gap (joel is in his late 40s and reader late 20s), forbidden relationship, sexism, mysogenya, angst, fluff, SMUT (yes, they're doing it but kinda sloppy though). I remind you all once again, english is not my first language and i'm not the best at writing smut, i'm actually awful. The chapter is kinda rushed at the end.

a/n: hello loves! okay, this is the chapter I was the most excited about. Where the lines are crossed. I know that some people may have thought this story would be about smut and all but i really wanted it to be something beyond that. I know I said you would found some more answers in this chapter, but you will find them in the other or maybe no haha. Okay, I really hope you like it AND PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK it's discouraging when you don't receive it. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Sun blazed your skin first thing in the morning. You could feel it. Eyes barely opening, stirring, and bones aching despite all the sleep. You didn’t register it at first, the warmth irradiating through the windows, the softness of the pillow your cheek rested on, neither the scent of pine and wood enveloping you. You stirred once again, the smell hit you once again as you opened your eyes and took a look of your surroundings. Four walls that seemed foreign,

You stretched, the sheets pooling around your waist as you sat up slowly, taking in the unfamiliar yet comforting space. Joel’s bedroom. The realization sent a flutter through your chest, a warmth that rivaled the sunlight spilling through the curtains.

You glanced down, realizing you were dressed in an old, soft T-shirt, his. A pair of comfortable shorts that definitely weren’t yours. The scent of him clung to the fabric, faint but unmistakable.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you stood up, your muscles still sore in a way that reminded you of last day at the beach with him. You smiled at the now memory you would hold into.

But now, he was gone. Your heart dipped slightly as you padded barefoot out of the bedroom, looking for him. The house was quiet, save for the distant sounds people outside. Your eyes scanned the space until they landed on the kitchen table.

A plate with two pieces of toast, a glass of orange juice, and a small folded note.

You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your chest as you stepped closer, picking up the piece of paper with careful fingers.

Had to step out earlier. Eat something, sweetheart. I’ll be back soon.

Sweetheart.

You exhaled a soft laugh, shaking your head as you pressed the note to your chest for a moment, allowing yourself to feel everything, the giddiness, the comfort, the way Joel, even in his absence, made you feel so seen.

Settling into the chair, you picked up a piece of toast, taking a small bite as you let your eyes linger on the note once more, the warmth in your chest refusing to fade.

Oh, perhaps you were falling in love.

You sighed, setting the note down carefully on the table before finishing your breakfast. The moment felt delicate, something to be tucked away in the quiet corners of your heart.

Once you were done, you made your way back to the bedroom, changing out of Joel’s clothes and slipping into your own. As much as you wanted to stay wrapped in the comfort of his scent, you knew you couldn’t linger here forever.

You ran your fingers through your hair, smoothing out any signs of sleep, and took one last look around the room before stepping toward the door. Just as your fingers brushed the handle, the sound of it unlocking from the outside made you freeze.

Joel stepped inside, his broad frame filling the doorway, the golden morning light casting a glow around him. His eyes immediately found yours, and his lips curved into the softest smile—one that made your stomach flip.

“Leaving already?” he asked, amusement lacing his tone as he took in your dressed form.

You swallowed, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. “I didn’t want to overstay.”

Joel’s smile didn’t falter, but there was something unreadable in his expression as he took a slow step closer. “You could never overstay, sweetheart.”

Your breath caught. The way he said it—so easy, so certain—made something bloom inside you, something that had been waiting for the right moment to break free.

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to,” you admitted, voice quieter now.

Joel’s gaze softened.

“Did we-uhm- How I ended up sleeping on your bed?” You asked, a bit shy of his reaction.

“Well, you fell asleep on my couch and I thought I would take you to my bed to sleep more comfortable.” He replied, while moving around the house as if was looking for something.

“Did you sleep with me?” you asked, almost hopefully at the idea of it.  

“No. I took the couch” he said, not even looking at you.

“Oh.” You cough, “Great, thank. I-I I think I should go. Carmen must worry about me.” You said, already walking towards the door.

“Wait!”  You turned into your heels to have a glimpse of him. He stood firmly, stopping what he was doing.  

“You should be careful when you go out. We don’t want people-

“To think you are with the whore’s town. I get it.” You said, disappointed.

Joel’s expression shifted instantly—his brows knitting together, his mouth parting slightly as if the words had physically struck him.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

You scoffed, hugging your arms over your chest, the sting of the moment settling deep. “Isn’t it?”

Joel took a step forward, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but was holding himself back. “No, it isn’t.”

You swallowed, looking away. You hated that your throat was tightening, that your chest ached at the mere thought of what people would say—of what they already did.

“Then what did you mean?” you challenged, meeting his gaze again.

Joel exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face before finally stepping closer. “I meant that people talk. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You stared at him, searching for something in his eyes, something to tell you this wasn’t just guilt talking.

“So, it’s not because you’re ashamed of being seen with me?” Your voice was quieter now, but no less certain.

Joel’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists before he slowly, deliberately, unclenched them. “Never.”

The word sat between you, heavy with meaning.

 “Okay.” You spoke.

Before you could open the door, before you could even turn, Joel grabbed your hand pulling you into an embrace, inhaling deeply as if he was trying to memorize your scent, to hold onto something before it slipped away. His arms wrapped around you, strong and secure, pressing you against his chest.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then you melted into him. Your hands found their way to his back, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as you let your head rest against his shoulder.

Joel exhaled shakily; his breath warm against your temple. “I’m not ashamed of you,” he murmured, his voice rough, like the words were scraping their way out of him. “I could never,” he paused for a mere second, “You had been the best thing in my life for so long. The best person I’ve ever met.”

Your throat bubbled a little. There were words you want to take away from it, words you need to say out loud, but you were still so afraid of them. To face them, to make Joel regret to even met you in the first place, so you just kept them under your tongue. Secured, so you could still enjoy from the feeling Joel’s touch caused on you.  

You swallowed hard, fingers fisting his shirt a little tighter. “You don’t have to say things just to make me feel better.”

Joel pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, serious. “Do you think I am lying to you?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t believe him, but because you wanted to. Too much.

He sighed, shaking his head before lifting a hand to cradle your cheek. His thumb brushed against your skin, gentle in a way that made your chest ache. “I ain’t ever lied to you, sweetheart.” His voice was quiet, but firm. “And I never will.”

You felt your lips curve into a small, almost shy smile, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. Your fingers loosened their grip on his shirt, smoothing over the fabric instead. For a moment, you let yourself sink into the warmth of his touch, the way his thumb lingered against your cheek like he wasn’t ready to let go either.

But then, reality crept back in, reminding you of everything waiting outside this little moment, the things neither of you had the courage to say just yet. You exhaled softly, eyes flickering down before meeting his again.

“I have to go now, though.”

Joel’s expression didn’t change, but you felt the way his body tensed slightly, his hand reluctant as it dropped from your face. He gave you a slow nod, his jaw tightening like he was biting back the words he really wanted to say.

“Alright,” he murmured, voice lower now.

You took a step back, putting space between you even though you didn’t want to. Your fingers itched to reach for him again, but you clenched them into fists instead. You turned, hand on the door, when his voice stopped you one last time.

“You’ll come back?”

Your heart squeezed. You shouldn’t. You knew that. But still, you found yourself whispering

“If you want me to.”

The walk back to the house felt longer than usual that you didn’t even notice that some people had noticed you had left the priest’s house wearing the same clothes as the day before. You didn’t notice how whispers begun. Perhaps you acted foolish and naïve or maybe it was the weight of Joel’s words lingering in your chest, or the way your skin still burned where his hands had been. Either way, by the time you reached the house, you had taken a deep breath, steeling yourself before stepping inside.

The smell of fresh coffee and eggs filled the air. Carmen and Billy sat at the small wooden table, their plates half-full, cups of coffee steaming beside them. The moment you stepped through the door, their heads snapped toward you in unison.

“Where the hell were you?” Billy blurted out, fork pausing halfway to his mouth.

Carmen’s eyes narrowed, scanning you up and down. You weren’t disheveled, but something about you must have given you away—maybe the glow on your skin, the way you hesitated for just a second too long before answering.

“I—” You cleared your throat, shifting on your feet. “I just—”

Carmen’s lips parted slightly, her eyes widening like realization had just struck her. “Oh my God.”

Billy looked between the two of you, frowning. “What?”

Carmen’s gaze locked onto yours, a slow smirk creeping onto her face. “You were with him, weren’t you?”

Billy blinked. “With who—? Oh.” His brows shot up, and suddenly, you were being stared at like a mystery waiting to be unraveled.

Your face heated instantly. “It’s not—it’s not what you think.”

Carmen crossed her arms, amused. “Really? Because I think you spent the night at priest’s house.”

Billy choked on his coffee. “Jesus Christ.”

Carmen chuckled “That’s a good expression.”

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. “Nothing happened.”

Carmen raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Then why do you look like you just spent the night tangled up with him?”

Your heart skipped at the way she phrased it, at the thought of being tangled up with Joel—because the truth was, part of you had wanted that.

Billy groaned. “Carmen, don’t put images in my head, please. He is hot.”

You exhaled, trying to compose yourself. “I just fell asleep there, okay? That’s it.”

Carmen gave you a knowing look, but she didn’t push. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, smirking. “If you say so.”

Billy muttered something under his breath, shaking his head as he stabbed his eggs a little too aggressively.

You sighed, walking toward the counter to pour yourself a cup of coffee, ignoring the way Carmen was still watching you like she knew something you didn’t.

But the truth was, you knew exactly what she was thinking.

And the worst part? She wasn’t wrong.

You were falling in love with Joel.

Billy let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head before pointing his fork at you. “Okay, look—I’ll admit it. He’s a hot priest. A really hot one.” He jabbed the fork in the air for emphasis. “But, darling… he’s a priest at the end of the day.”

You froze mid-sip of your coffee, your fingers tightening around the cup. Carmen shot Billy a warning look, but he kept going.

“He’s not just some guy you can mess around with,” Billy continued, his voice softer now. “You know what this means for him. For you.”

Your throat tightened. You did know. You had been trying not to think about it, trying to pretend you could just enjoy this feeling—enjoy him—without reality creeping in.

“I’m not messing around,” you said quietly.

Billy exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re not. That’s what worries me.”

Carmen reached over, squeezing your hand gently. “Billy’s right, Estrellita. We’re just looking out for you.”

You forced a small smile, but your chest felt heavy. Because no matter how much you wanted to ignore it, they were right.

You were falling in love with a man you could never have.

The bass pulsed beneath your feet, the heat of the lights casting a golden glow over your skin as you moved, slow and deliberate. The music guided you, every roll of your hips, every arch of your back calculated to entrance, to captivate. You had done this a thousand times before—this performance, this dance. But tonight, it felt different.

Because tonight, your eyes kept drifting to the entrance.

You scanned the dimly lit club, searching through the smoke and the sea of faces, hoping—expecting—to see him standing there. Arms crossed, jaw tight, watching you with that barely restrained tension he always carried when he was near you.

But Joel wasn’t there.

Your stomach twisted, disappointment curling in your chest even as you forced yourself to keep moving, to keep dancing. You knew you shouldn’t have expected him. He was a priest, after all. Whatever had happened between you—whatever was happening—wasn’t supposed to. Maybe he had come to his senses. Maybe he had decided to stay away.

Carmen, standing just off the stage, caught your eye as you spun around the pole, her smirk knowing. When your set ended, she was already waiting near the stairs, arms crossed.

“You keep looking for him,” she teased as you slipped past her.

You didn’t bother denying it. Instead, you sighed, grabbing a towel to dab at the sweat on your skin. “He’s not coming.”

Carmen tilted her head. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

You weren’t so sure. Because as much as you told yourself it was better this way, that hollow feeling in your chest refused to fade.

Another day, another night.

And oh, you were already love and it scared you.

Your steps faltered the moment you noticed the crowd outside the church. The murmurs, the whispers—it all crashed into you at once.

Women stood in small clusters, their heads tilted toward one another, their eyes flickering to you before quickly turning away, pretending they hadn’t just been talking about you. Some didn’t even bother to hide it, their lips curled in disgust, their judgment palpable in the air.

You didn’t have to hear their words to know what they were saying.

She was seen leaving his house yesterday morning.

What kind of woman does that?

With a priest, of all people!

And then there were the men, their voices lower but no less cruel.

"She’d give herself to a priest before one of us?"

"Guess she thinks she’s too good for the rest of us."

Your stomach churned. The heat of embarrassment burned your skin, but underneath it was something colder. Anger. These men—these people—had no right to talk about you as if you were some shameful secrets, some object for them to claim.

And then you saw Joel, dressed in black, his collar stark white against the fabric. A reminder of what he was. A reminder of why this was all happening.

But he wasn’t alone.

Beside him stood another man, older, dressed in the same priestly garments. There was an air of authority about him, the way he carried himself, the way others seemed to step aside as he moved.

The Cardinal.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Joel was speaking with him, his expression unreadable, but then, as if he could sense you, his eyes lifted. Met yours. Something flickered in his gaze. Worry. Regret. Guilt. And yet, he didn’t look away.

Your eyes met, and he swallowed as if nervous about your presence. The cardinal followed Joel's gaze to you, and you could sense the suspicion a man with that power held in the church. How, just by looking at you, he could tell you were the problem he'd come here to talk to Joel about. That you were the temptation lurking in the Father's face.

The Cardinal’s gaze was sharp, assessing, stripping you bare in a way that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with judgment. You didn’t shrink under it, even as your heart pounded against your ribs.

He knew.

Even if there had been nothing to confess, even if no one had spoken outright, he knew what the town had already decided: that you were the problem. That you had tainted their priest.

Joel’s jaw clenched. His hands, which had been relaxed at his sides just a moment ago, curled into fists. He looked torn, his body tense as if he were fighting the urge to move toward you—to reach for you.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

The moment stretched, suffocating and endless, until the Cardinal finally turned his attention back to Joel, his expression unreadable but his posture heavy with authority. He said something—too low for you to hear—but Joel’s reaction told you enough. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes briefly closing as if steadying himself before nodding once.

You didn’t know what had just been decided, but you knew it wasn’t good.

A wave of nausea rolled through you. You weren’t naive enough to think this wouldn’t have consequences. You’d just been hoping—selfishly, foolishly—that they wouldn’t come so soon.

That maybe Joel would have had more time. That you would have had more time.

Joel turned away first, back to the Cardinal, his expression carefully schooled into something unreadable. And with that single movement, it was as if a wall had been put between you.

As if he had made a choice. And it wasn’t you.

You barely made it to the bench before your knees gave out beneath you. Sitting down, you folded in on yourself, hands clenched together in your lap, fingers twisting at the fabric of your skirt. The nausea churned in your stomach, rising in your throat, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it win.

But God, seeing Joel from afar—seeing him look right through you—felt like someone had reached into your chest and ripped something vital from you. It was a different kind of pain, a sharp, splintering ache that settled deep in your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

You barely noticed the woman sitting beside you until she let out a soft sigh.

"Poor thing."

You stiffened immediately, shoulders tensing as you turned your head, ready to snap at whoever had dared to sit so close, to offer their pity like a gift you had no intention of accepting.

But the woman beside you wasn’t sneering. She wasn’t whispering cruel words behind a fake smile. She was just looking at you. Softly. Kindly.

Mrs. Langdon.

You recognized her from the market, from the church gatherings. She was older, with graying hair pinned into a neat bun and warm, wise eyes that held something you weren’t used to seeing from anyone in this town.

Not judgment. Not malice. Just understanding.

Still, you bristled, wrapping your arms around yourself. “If you’re here to tell me I should –”

“Oh, hush.” She waved a hand, dismissing your words like they were nothing more than an annoying fly. “You think I don’t know what small towns are like? People always looking for someone to talk about, someone to cast stones at. You just happen to be their favorite target right now.”

You frowned, glancing at her warily. “And you don’t agree with them?”

Mrs. Langdon let out a dry chuckle. “I would rather die than agree with these people. They haven’t seen the world outside this place, that’s what they are like this.”  

You blinked at Mrs. Langdon, her words striking you like a sharp gust of wind. You’d always assumed that the people in this town—the ones gossiping behind their hands, the ones judging every move you made—were simply following some unspoken code of right and wrong, of tradition. It had never occurred to you that someone might look at them and see what they were: trapped.

“See the world outside?” you repeated, still a little skeptical, as your eyes darted back to Joel. He hadn’t looked at you again since that brief glance earlier, and now, with the Cardinal standing beside him, it felt as if the distance between you had grown tenfold.

“Yes,” Mrs. Langdon continued, her voice soft but firm. “You’d be surprised how small their world is, how tightly they hold onto their little rules, because it’s all they know. But people like you,” she turned her gaze to you then, her eyes softening with a tenderness that made your heart ache, “people like you are the ones who see beyond. You’re the ones with the courage to live.”

You swallowed, trying to hold back the sudden rush of emotion that threatened to break through. She didn’t know the half of it—how terrified you were, how unsure you felt. You had no idea what it meant to be with Joel, to stand by him in a world that was determined to tear him down.

“And do you think I’m doing the right thing?” you asked quietly, unable to stop the words from leaving your lips.

Mrs. Langdon studied you for a moment before she answered, her voice thoughtful. “I think you’re doing what your heart tells you to do. And that’s all anyone can ever do, in the end.”

You looked at her, her words settling over you like a soft blanket. “Thank you.” You smiled, “You are the first person who had been kind to me here.”

Mrs. Langdon’s smile deepened, her eyes kind and warm. "Well, I'm glad to be the first, but I won't be the last," she said, her tone both gentle and reassuring. "There are people here who might not say it, but they understand more than you'd think. You just have to find the ones who can see beyond the surface."

You nodded, the weight on your chest lifting just a little. It felt like a small crack in the wall that had been built around you since arriving in this town, a small sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was room for you here too.

"You know," she continued, her voice dropping a little lower, "I’ve seen the way you look at father Joel.”

You froze, her words catching you off guard. Mrs. Langdon studied you carefully, her gaze soft but knowing.

Those aren't just any eyes, sweetheart. Those are eyes of love."

You felt your heart tighten, but it wasn’t from shame. It was something deeper, a recognition of truth you hadn’t wanted to fully admit to yourself.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you whispered, not meeting her gaze.

Mrs. Langdon didn’t push, but her expression softened with understanding. "You don’t have to say it out loud. I can see it. And Joel, well, he sees it too. He has the same eyes for you. He knows all your secrets, everything you're afraid of, everything you're hiding. That man has a heart, just like you."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep the wave of emotions from taking over. But the thought of Joel knowing you so completely, knowing all your fears and all the love you tried to bury, made something inside you break somehow.

"He deserves more than this," Mrs. Langdon continued, her voice quieter now, filled with a gentle sadness. "He deserves a life where you don’t have to hide, a life where he can live freely. But the church, it’s... it’s not that kind of place.”  

You fidgeted with your fingers trying to process her words. It was the truth, wasn’t it? Joel was bound by something, by vows, by his position, by the very fabric of who he was. And as much as you wanted to fight it, as much as you wanted to believe you could carve out a space for yourself in his life, there was no escaping it.

"I want him to be happy," you murmured, your voice raw. "I want him to have everything he deserves."

"Then don’t let the priesthood take it from him," Mrs. Langdon said firmly, her tone softening as she placed a hand on your shoulder. "Don’t let him carry that burden alone if it means losing what he could have with you. If you love him, let him have the life he deserves. Let him choose."

Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, blinking hard to keep them at bay. Her words were like a knife, cutting through the walls you’d built, exposing the truth you had been trying to ignore.

“I don’t know if I can be the one to take that choice from him,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Mrs. Langdon.

"Sometimes," she said quietly, "love isn't about what we want. It’s about what the other person needs to be free. Let him find his freedom, and in turn, let yourself find yours."

You met her eyes then, and for the first time since you’d gotten to this town, you felt a sense of clarity. It wasn’t going to be easy. There would be pain. But maybe, just maybe, love was more than staying in one place. Maybe it was about letting go when the time came.

"Thank you," you whispered, wiping the tears that you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

Mrs. Langdon's smile remained warm, a touch of kindness in her eyes as she spoke. "You should come have tea with me this afternoon. It's just my husband and I, nothing fancy, but it would be nice to have some company. Father Joel comes over for dinner every Thursday, so we aren't lonely," she said with a gentle chuckle, her voice carrying no trace of judgment, only genuine invitation.

You found yourself surprised by the offer, the warmth of it sinking deep into your chest. "I would love to," you responded, your voice a bit lighter than before, the weight of the conversation easing just a little.

Mrs. Langdon nodded, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a smile. "My house is the blue one, close to that club you work at. You can't miss it," she added, her tone still kind and welcoming. Not judgment, just kindness.

You smiled at her, feeling something like hope flicker in your chest. It was a small gesture, but it felt like the beginning of something you hadn’t expected—something that might help you get through the turmoil of everything you were feeling.

"Thank you," you said quietly, a genuine smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "I’ll see you this afternoon."

With that, Mrs. Langdon gave you a nod and stood, her presence as comforting as it had been when she first sat beside you. As you watched her walk away, you realized that even in a town that had felt so cold, there were still people like her who could offer warmth. And for once, it made you feel like you weren’t so alone.

The afternoon passed in a haze of quiet reflection. You found yourself walking towards Mrs. Langdon’s blue house, the small but charming building tucked just behind the club where you worked. The sun was starting to dip, casting soft shadows across the street. As you approached her home, a sense of calm you hadn’t known you needed settled over you.

Mrs. Langdon greeted you at the door, her warm smile a welcome you couldn’t help but return. “Come in, dear,” she said kindly, ushering you into the cozy space.

The smell of fresh tea lingered in the air, and there was an immediate feeling of peace in her home. You stepped inside, taking in the simple but inviting interior. Her husband was sitting in a chair by the window, reading a book. He offered you a quiet, polite smile.

"Come, sit with us," Mrs. Langdon said, pulling up an extra chair beside her. As you sat down, she poured you a cup of tea, her movements deliberate, soothing.

You were starting to feel at ease when the door opened, and you heard a familiar voice.

"Evening, Mrs. Langdon."

You froze for a moment, heart leaping into your throat as you turned to see none other than Joel stepping inside, a small bag of groceries in hand.

His gaze caught yours almost immediately, and for a split second, the world around you seemed to stop. You felt his presence as though it were a physical thing, pulling you in like gravity.

Joel paused in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his eyes locking with yours. He had clearly not expected to see you here.

Mrs. Langdon smiled brightly, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Father Joel, perfect timing! I was just about to serve tea. Come, join us.”

Joel looked between you and her, his eyes narrowing just slightly as if caught between two worlds. He set the bag down carefully on the counter and nodded, stepping further into the room.

"Good evening," he said quietly, his voice low. He hesitated for just a moment before sitting down, across from you, at the small table.

The silence between you two was palpable, charged with everything that had been left unsaid. Mrs. Langdon filled the silence with easy conversation, talking about the weather, the garden, her husband's new book—anything to keep things light. But you could feel the heaviness between you and Joel, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you like a storm cloud.

You glanced at him once, your heart fluttering despite the tension. His face was a mask of calm, but you could see the flicker of something else behind his eyes—something too familiar, too intense to ignore.

And just like that, you were back in the world you’d tried to escape. Joel. The priest.

Not Joel the mand you loved.

Joel’s voice was steady but laced with tension as he continued to explain to Mrs. Langdon and her husband about the Cardinal’s visit. “So basically, he came here today to check on some matters, to discuss... some things. I’m sure you both understand the pressure, and I had to reassure him that nothing inappropriate was happening. But I’m not sure he believed me,” he added, his voice growing more frustrated.

Mrs. Langdon nodded sympathetically, her eyes flicking to you, but she said nothing, allowing Joel to speak. Her husband, who had been quietly listening, gave a small nod as well, but his expression remained neutral.

“I bet those ladies were bothering him with stuff. Always snitching.” She said because she knew perfectly well the reason why the cardinal had come was because of them.

Joel’s words kept going, but you were hardly listening anymore. The room felt suddenly small; the air too thick with unspoken tension. You could feel the weight of the conversation hanging around you, pressing down on your chest. It felt suffocating, like there was no air left for you to breathe.

The mention of the Cardinal, of everything that was happening, made your stomach churn, but it wasn’t just the situation that hurt. It was the realization that Joel was caught in something much larger than the two of you—something that neither of you had any control over. His gaze kept flicking toward you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it.

Your breath hitched, and you pushed your chair back slightly, rising from the table. “Excuse me,” you murmured, barely louder than a whisper, “Mrs. Langdon, may I use your bathroom?”

Joel paused mid-sentence, clearly caught off guard by your request. He looked at you, his eyes searching your face as if trying to understand what was happening, but you avoided his gaze, feeling a wave of shame and confusion wash over you.

Mrs. Langdon, smiled warmly. "Of course, dear. Joel, could you show her where the bathroom is?" she asked, her tone light and unbothered, as if she hadn’t noticed the tension that had settled in the air.

Joel nodded slowly, standing up from his chair. “Sure,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long before he turned toward the hallway.

You stood up as well, trying to gather the fragments of your composure. You forced a smile in Mrs. Langdon’s direction, but it felt weak.

The walk down the hallway felt painfully long. Every step you took seemed suffocating and small, the weight of everything pressing down on you more with each passing second.

When you reached the bathroom, Joel hesitated for a moment, his hand on the door. He seemed torn, unsure of whether to say something or just let you go inside. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re avoiding me” he said, the words catching in his throat.

You paused, your heart pounding in your chest. His words hung in the air like a heavy fog, and you couldn’t help but feel the truth in them, even if you didn’t want to admit it. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out at first. You could feel the heat of your skin, the tension in your shoulders, all the emotions swirling inside you in a chaotic mess.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible, a lie you weren’t even sure you believed yourself.

Joel didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes searching your face, waiting for you to look at him. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t face him right now, not with everything hanging in the air, not with the way things were unraveling. The guilt, the confusion, everything crashing together.

And then, before you could step further into the bathroom, Joel did something you didn’t expect. He stepped in after you, closing the door behind him with a soft click, and suddenly, the small space felt even smaller. The air thickened, and you could feel the weight of his presence just inches away from you.

He didn’t speak immediately, but the look in his eyes was enough. The way he watched you, not with anger, but with understanding. And maybe a bit of frustration, as if he couldn’t figure out what was keeping you from him, what was stopping you from just being closer to him.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, your hands shaking slightly. “You shouldn’t be here, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling now, though you tried to keep it firm.

“I know,” he replied, his voice low, almost as if he was sharing a secret. “But I am.” His eyes softened for a moment, as if he was seeing right through you, to the parts of you that were breaking but too afraid to show it. “You can’t keep pushing me away.”

You stayed still, hoping, praying, he would just walk away and make all of this easier for the both of you.

“I know what you are thinking,” his voice was quiet, but there was something raw in it. Something pleading as if he was on his knees waiting for you to take him.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to stay strong.

“Please talk to me” he murmured, and the way his voice cracked shattered you.

You exhaled shakily closing and opening your eyes as he still stood there.

You swallowed hard, gripping the doorframe for support. “You know what is the right thing to do. We can’t see each other anymore.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, and he took a step closer. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

You shook your head, voice trembling. “I don’t want you to lose everything you had built because of me, Joel.”

His expression softened, and he lifted a hand as if to touch you but stopped himself. “You’re not something I should have to lose too.”

The words sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, and you turned away, trying to steady yourself. “You made a promise—to God, to yourself. And I—” Your breath hitched. “I know love you too much to be the reason you break it.”

Silence. Heavy, aching silence. Your eyes widened the moment you realized the words that had slipped out from your lips.

When you finally turned back, you found Joel staring at you, stunned. His lips parted slightly, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.

“What?” His voice was barely a whisper.

Tears welled in your eyes. “I love you, Joel.” You gasped for air, “I am in love with you.”

The words hung between you, fragile yet powerful. His hands clenched at his sides fidgeting his clothes as if he were physically holding himself back. You could see it in his eyes—the war raging inside him.

Finally, he exhaled a shaky breath. “Say it again.” He stepped impossibly closer, “Say those six words again.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. “Joel—”

“Please,” he cut in, his voice rough. “Just one more time.”

Your lip trembled, and this time, you let the words pour out, raw and unfiltered. “I am in love with you.”

His breath hitched, and before you could react, he closed the space built between you, his hands framing your face, destroying the walls you had been trying to build between the both of you. His lips crash onto yours in a kiss so desperate, so full of longing and yearning, it stole the breath from your lungs.

He wasn’t careful or hesitant, he was just simply pouring all the feelings he had kept under all the keys, on your lips. Everything you had denied yourselves. And in that moment, nothing else mattered because what was happening was an act of love, a pure feeling. There was nothing wrong with it.

Joel’s kiss was all-consuming, desperate, like a man grasping at something slipping through his fingers. His hands trembled where they held your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped down your cheeks.

You clung to him, your fingers curling in his hair, as if anchoring yourself to this moment, to him. You could feel the weight of it, the war he was fighting within himself, the battle between faith and love, between what he had vowed and what his heart was screaming for.

But right now, he wasn’t Father Joel. He was just Joel.

Yours.

Your Joel.

The man you were in love with.

A man devoted to you.

He pulled away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath shaky and uneven. His hands slid down to your shoulders, then your arms, as if memorizing the feel of you.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, holding back his smile.

Your heart ached at the conflict in his eyes. “But it’s the truth.”

Joel let out a ragged breath, his grip tightening as if he was afraid to let go. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, baby.”

Your fingers brushed over his jaw, feeling the tension there. “Loving you is so easy, Joel.” you whispered, biting your lips in a small effort to suppress the smile.

He kissed you again. Slower this time, deeper. It was full of longing; of everything he had tried to bury but couldn’t anymore. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, as if looking for an answer he hadn’t yet found in himself.

“I’m in love with you, too. God, you’re so—”

“So what?” you asked.

“Perfect. Made for me.” He replied.

“No, I’m not.” you said, knowing the secrets you still held back, caged inside the pain of your heart.

“To my eyes, you’re.” He said, caressing your face with his thumbs.

You looked so beautiful to him, under his stare that he was afraid that from now on he would love you forever. Like he was ready to be devasted by you and concept of love all over again just to be able to taste your lips and to caress your face with his palms that on your cheeks seemed innocent.  

You swallowed hard, feeling this situation pressing down on your chest. Your hands, still trembling found their way to his wrists, holding onto him like he was the only one who could keep you steady in a world that suddenly felt falling into pieces.

Your voice was barely above a whisper when you finally asked, “What comes now?”

Joel's breath hitched, his grip on you tightening like he was afraid you would regret this and shatter his heart in the process. His eyes seemed darker, searching yours as if trying to find the answer himself. He exhaled shakily, his forehead still resting against yours. “I have no idea.”

The honesty in his words made your heart ache. This wasn’t simple. This wasn’t easy. Love never was—especially not yours. But the way he looked at you, the way he held you, like you were something sacred, made you want to believe that somehow, you could figure it out together.

His fingers traced slow, gentle circles on your arms, like he was memorizing the shape of you, the texture of your skin, the feel of you, in case this was the last time he would ever get to hold you like this. "I should say we stop now, that we walk away before it’s too late." His voice was rough, strained. "But I don’t think I can. I don’t want to."

Your heart pounded, “Joel…”

He shook his head, a small, breathless laugh escaping his lips. "I spent so long fighting this—fighting you, since the first night I saw sleeping on the bench because I thought it was the right thing to do. But tell me, baby... If this is so wrong, why does it feel like the only thing that’s ever-made sense to me in so long?"

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Because he was right. Because the truth was, no matter how much you had tried to convince yourself otherwise, being in his arms felt like the only place you were ever meant to be.

"What do we do?" you whispered, your fingers tightening around his wrists. "How do we do this?"

Joel exhaled, leaning in, his nose brushing against yours. “I’d say…one step at time.”

You closed your eyes at the tenderness in his voice. "And if we fall?"

His lips barely ghosted over yours before he whispered, "Then we fall together."

And a small chuckle escaped from your lips.

The days passed in a torturous slow blur for the both of you. The pressure of your secret affair pressed down on you, each stolen glance between you and Joel carrying a longing that never faded, only deepened and strangled your hearts. The Cardinal was still in town, his presence looming over everything like a shadow, forcing Joel to keep his distance, to maintain the image of who he was supposed to be.

But even in the smallest moments, you could feel him.

You’d catch his eyes from across the street, hungry and kind flickering over you like he wanted to memorize every detail before looking away. You’d see the way his hands clenched at his sides when you walked past him after service, as if he was holding himself back from reaching for you. And sometimes, late at night, you swore you could still feel the ghost of his touch, his lips, the way he whispered your name like a prayer in that small, stolen moment in the bathroom.

And then, one afternoon, fate offered you mercy. You were passing by the church, the sky grey with a warning of a heavy rain, when you saw him. Alone.

Joel stood at the church steps, his broad frame leaning against the doorway, his expression tense, lost in thought. But the second his eyes landed on you, something in him changed. His shoulders straightened, his jaw clenched, and for the first time in days, you saw it, that deep, burning desperation.

He walked inside the church, you followed him and before you could even react or take a breath, his hands were on your face, rough and warm, pulling you in before his lips crashed onto yours.

The kiss was feverish, urgent. A moment of recklessness after days of restraint. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his cassock, needing to hold onto him just as desperately as he held onto you. The world around you blurred, melted into nothing, because nothing mattered but the feeling of his mouth on yours, the heat of him searing into your skin.

But then footsteps interrupted the moment.

Joel pulled away instantly, his breath ragged, his hands dropping from your face as if burned. You barely had a second to process before a voice, rough and commanding ranging behind him.

“Father Miller.”

You turned sharply to see him. The Cardinal.

His piercing gaze flicked between you and Joel, unreadable but heavy with something cold. Suspicion, maybe.

He wasn’t naïve.

Joel, didn’t hesitate changing his posture, “Your Eminence,” he greeted smoothly, stepping back just enough to put distance between you. His voice was steady, composed, but you could still hear the slight strain in it.

The Cardinal’s sharp eyes settled on you. “And who is lady here?”

Joel straightened; his expression carefully neutral. “This is—” He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before continuing, “She’s new in town. I’ve been offering some guidance.”

The way he said it, as if you were nothing more than another wandering soul seeking his help, sent a sharp pang through you. You understood why he said it. Knew that he had to. But it still stung.

The Cardinal’s eyes swept over you, assessing, unimpressed. “Is that so?” His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Well, let us hope you are a good influence, rather than a distraction for the father, here.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over you like ice. Joel’s hands clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing.

The Cardinal barely spared you another glance before turning back to Joel. “I need to speak with you. Now.”

Joel hesitated, his eyes flickering to you for the briefest second before nodding. “Of course.”

And just like that, the moment was gone. You stood there, heart still racing, watching as Joel followed the Cardinal back into the church. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

You still were a forbidden fruit to him.

You sat by the mirror in the dressing room, running a fingertip over the rim of your glass, lost in thought. Your reflection stared back at you, lips slightly parted, skin still warm from the memory of Joel’s touch. You could still feel the ghost of his lips against yours, the way he had held you so tightly, like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers if he let go.

You wanted him. All of him. You wanted his arms around you all the time because he felt like home, a place you missed.

“Earth to troublemaker.”

A familiar voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you turned to see Billy leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. His sharp eyes flicked over you, picking up on every little detail—the way you were sitting too still, the way your mind was somewhere else.

“You look like a woman with a big secret to share,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Before you could answer, Carmen appeared behind him, slipping into the room with a bottle in her hand. “She doesn’t just look like one,” she teased, raising a brow. “She is one.”

You huffed, shaking your head as they both settled in beside you. Carmen poured herself a drink before nudging your knee with hers. “So, are you gonna tell us, or are we gonna have to guess?”

You hesitated for a moment, rolling your lip between your teeth. But you knew there was no point in keeping it from them. Not from them.

They were your friends and your family here.

Finally, you exhaled, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I kissed him.” You confessed, “Well, he did.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Billy grinned, shaking his head. “I knew it.”

Carmen, on the other hand, simply gave you a knowing look, sipping her drink. “About damn time.”

You blinked. “That’s it? No lecture?”

“Oh, I’ll get to that,” she said, smirking. “But first, tell me everything.”

Billy leaned in, grinning. “Yeah, don’t leave out any of the good parts.”

And so, you told them. About the way Joel had kissed you like he was starving for it. The way he wanted to fall if it means you would be discovered, but at the same time you felt guilty about the consequences of this illicit affair between the both of you.

Carmen swirled the drink in her glass, watching you carefully. “So, he wants to fall,” she mused. “But you’re afraid of what happens when he does.”

You exhaled, pressing your fingertips to your temple. “It’s not just that. I—” You hesitated, feeling the weight of your own thoughts. “It’s selfish, isn’t it? I want him. God, I want him. But I know what this could mean for him. For both of us.”

Billy scoffed. “Sweetheart, do you really think he doesn’t already know that?”

You looked up at him.

“He’s a grown man,” he continued. “Older than you, he knows damn well what he is getting into.”

Carmen nodded in agreement. “Billy’s right. If Joel kissed you—if he’s looking at you the way you say he does, then he’s already made his choice. The question is—” she leaned in slightly, her gaze searching yours— “have you?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Had you?

Your heart had already chosen. But your mind, the part of you that still clung to reason, still feared what this could cost.

Billy clicked his tongue. “See? You’re overthinking.”

“You should be thinking,” Carmen corrected him, before looking back at you. She squeezed your hand, her voice softer now. “You love him.”

The words settled in the air between you all.

And though you didn’t say it out loud, the answer was there, in the way your heart pounded at the thought of him.

Yes, you loved him.

But you didn’t want to hurt him.

Carmen exchanged a glance with Billy before turning back to you. “Hey, hey,” she murmured, reaching out to gently pry your hands from your head. “Take a breath, sweetheart.”

Billy let out a sigh, pushing himself up from his seat. “Alright. You’re not dancing tonight.” He didn’t say it as a question, just a fact.

You shook your head, your chest tight. “I just—I can’t.”

Carmen gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s fine. You don’t have to.”

The weight of it all pressed down on you—Joel, the secrecy, the risk, the way your heart ached just thinking about him. And now, after speaking it out loud, after admitting it to them, it felt even heavier.

Billy clapped his hands together. “Alright. I’ll let the rest know. You just sit here and—” He waved a hand at you. “I don’t know. Breathe.”

You let out a weak laugh, despite yourself.

Carmen brushed a piece of hair from your face. “Do you want to go home?”

You thought about it. The idea of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, letting your thoughts swallow you whole.

You sighed, rubbing your temples before finally nodding. “Yeah. I think I just need to be alone for a bit.”

Carmen hesitated, her eyes scanning your face like she was trying to read between the lines. But she didn’t push. Instead, she gave your hand one last squeeze. “Alright. But be careful, okay?”

Billy scoffed. “Like she doesn’t already know that.”

You mustered a small smile before standing up, smoothing down your dress. The club was still buzzing with life around you—music, laughter, cigarette smoke curling in the air—but you felt like you were somewhere else entirely.

You stepped outside, the cool night air hitting your skin as you started down the dimly lit street. The quiet was welcome, a stark contrast to the noise still pulsing inside the club.

But after a few blocks, a strange feeling settled in your chest.

Like you weren’t alone.

Your steps slowed. You glanced over your shoulder, but the street behind you was empty. Just the faint glow of streetlamps and the distant murmur of the city.

Get a grip, you told yourself, shaking your head. You were just tired. Your mind playing tricks on you, tangled up in guilt and longing.

Still, your heart pounded a little harder as you picked up your pace, heading straight for home.

The memories came in waves, brushing against the edges of your mind like a heartbreak song you once loved but hadn’t heard in years.

You remembered the warmth of his hands, the way they fit so easily around yours. The way he used to trace idle patterns against your skin when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he laughed—really laughed—like it was something only you could pull from him.

There were quiet mornings, sunlight spilling through lace curtains, and his voice, thick with sleep, murmuring your name with tenderness. There were stolen glances across crowded rooms, Nights spent whispering about nothing and everything, your bodies tangled, your hearts so close you could swear they beat in time.

And then, something shifted. The warmth cooled. The sweetness turned sharp.

The same hands that once held you so carefully became distant; caught in something you couldn’t quite reach. His laughter turned into a cruel smirk; his words turned heavier. Daggers reaching for you. And then, one day, you looked at him and saw not the man you had come closed to love but the thing standing between you and everything you were meant to be.

Now, the memories came differently. Not like a song, but like an echo. Distant, blurred at the edges. A reminder of something you had once cherished. And something you now wished to forget forever because it took everything you know because of it.

You moved through the quiet of the house, the fabric of your nightgown felt tight against your skin. The night air was cooler than other days, slipping through the open window, but it wasn’t enough to calm the thoughts spinning in your mind.

You had tried to push them away, tried to bury them beneath exhaustion, but sleep refused to come.

And then—a knock at the door. Soft, but insistent.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Billy. It had to be. Checking in on you, making sure you hadn’t collapsed into some pit of regret. You pulled the door open, already preparing a reassurance.

But the words died on your lips.

It wasn’t Billy.

It was Joel.

His presence filled the doorway, broad shoulders casting shadows against the dim glow of the hallway. His hair was tousled, his lips parted slightly like he had been running, or like he had been thinking too much and drinking too little.

But it was his eyes that held you in place.

Soft brown with a lopsided smile, kind to you.

“Joel—” you started, but you didn’t know what to say.

He stepped forward, just enough that you could feel the warmth of him. His gaze flickered over you, over your bare arms, the delicate slip of your nightgown, the soft rise and fall of your breath.

His voice was low when he spoke. Rough.

“Can I come in?”

"Joel," you repeated, his name barely a breath on your lips.

He swallowed hard, his gaze tracing your face like he was trying to memorize it. Like he had missed you more than he was willing to admit. "I know I shouldn't be here," he murmured, voice rough with something unspoken. "But I had to see you."

Your fingers curled around the edge of the door. He was waiting for you to say yes, for you to tell him to leave, for anything.

But you couldn’t turn him away. Stepping aside, you nodded. "Come in."

Joel exhaled, almost like he had been holding his breath, and stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him, enclosing you both inside the four walls hiding a secret.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just looked at each other, the space between you charged with all the things left unsaid.

Then, slowly, he reached for you.

His hand traced a featherlight path down your arm, fingers brushing against your wrist, like he was grounding himself in your touch. His hands were always so warm, so steady. You had missed them.

“You’re tired,” he murmured, eyes softening as he took in your face.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Joel hummed, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. "Me neither."

You should have been nervous. This was dangerous. But as he pulled you close, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, all you felt was safe.

"Let me stay," he whispered against your skin. "Just for a little while."

You nodded, the simple gesture carrying so much weight between you both. Joel’s lips remained pressed against your forehead, his warmth seeping into you as if he was anchoring you to this moment, to him. You closed your eyes, letting the world fall away, just for a while.

Then, slowly, as if unsure of his own movements, his lips moved, gently brushing over your cheek. The softest touch, but it sent a shiver through you. His breath was warm on your skin, and you could feel the subtle tremor in his movements, as though he was trying to be careful with you, as if you were something pure and precious, he didn’t want to break.

He kissed your other cheek, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The space between you both felt charged, heavy with everything unsaid, but also full of something more—something you both craved but had kept at bay for so long.

Then, his lips found yours. No rush, no urgency. Just a quiet, tender kiss that felt like coming home after a long time apart. His lips moved over yours softly, exploring, as if he had all the time in the world to savor the moment. And you let him. You let him in, even if it was only for a little while.

When he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, you were both breathless, eyes still closed. The world outside felt distant, and the only thing that mattered was the steady beat of his heart against yours.

"I’ve missed you," Joel whispered, his voice thick with something deeper thana simple desire. It was raw, unguarded. A confession you both needed but were afraid to admit.

You swallowed hard, not trusting your voice. Your chest felt tight, but in a good way, like a promise. The weight of the past, the secrecy, all of it felt momentarily lighter.

"The cardinal left this afternoon” he murmured, as his fingers ghosted over your waist, holding you like he was afraid you might disappear from his fingertips.

Your breath hitched. That meant there was no more need for stolen glances, no more pretending not to see each other. But it also meant the weight of reality would settle in soon.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. "So, we don’t have to hide that much anymore," you whispered, though something in your voice made it sound like a question.

Joel exhaled sharply, his grip on you tightening for a moment. "Not as much," he admitted, his thumb brushing idly against your hip. "But it doesn’t mean it gets any easier."

You knew that. You both did.

His eyes searched yours in the dim light, a quiet storm brewing in their depths. "Tell me what you want," he murmured, his voice low, rough, like he was bracing himself for the answer.

You hesitated, not because you didn’t know, but because saying it out loud would make it real.

But when you looked at him—at the man who had kissed you like a prayer, who had whispered your name like it was something sacred—you knew there was only one truth.

"I want you, Joel," you breathed.

Joel didn’t wait. The second the words left your lips; his mouth was on yours.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t just longing, wasn’t just stolen moments in the shadows. It was something deeper, something that carried the weight of every glance, every touch, every unsaid thing between you. It was burning, you felt it on your lips, ablaze when they crushed together.

His hands framed your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he kissed you like he never wanted to stop. Like he had been waiting for you his whole life.

You melted into him, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as he pressed you closer. His lips moved with a slow, deliberate tenderness, drawing you in, pulling you under. You parted your lips, allowing your tongues to intertwine with such a fervor it made you weak.

When he pulled away, just enough to let you breathe, he didn’t go far. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice wrecked, thick with emotion.

You smiled, brushing your fingers over his jaw, feeling the way it throbbed beneath your touch. “I think I do.”

Joel let out a low, rough chuckle, shaking his head. “Not even close, baby.”

He searched your face, as if giving himself one last chance to step away, to be the better man. But when he saw the way you looked at him—soft, certain, full of something that made his heart ache—he knew he was lost.

His lips crashed into yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you impossibly close, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. He kissed you like a man starved, like he had been waiting for this, for you, for longer than he was willing to admit.

You pressed against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric. The heat between you was undeniable, the space that once existed now erased completely.

His hands roamed over your back, to the curve of your ass, slow but firm, memorizing the shape of you. He pulled away only long enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breaths heavy and uneven. A groan rumbled from his chest, his hands gripping your waist, anchoring you to him.

Joel guided you backward slowly, his hands steady but desperate, like he was afraid to let go even for a second. The world outside, the consequences, the things he’d wrestled with for so long, they all faded, drowned out by the sound of your breath mingling with his, the warmth of your body against him.

He didn’t just kiss you. He poured everything into it, every stolen glance, every unspoken word, every moment of restraint that now felt pointless. His fingers traced your jaw, then down your neck, reverent, like he was memorizing the feel of you beneath his hands.

When your back met the edge of the couch, you gasped, and Joel took the opportunity to trail kisses down your throat, his lips slow, deliberate, savoring every inch of you. His name left your lips in a whisper, barely there, but he heard it, God, he felt it.

His hands settled at your waist, gripping just enough to make your skin burn under his touch. He pulled back for a moment, just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling as if he was barely keeping himself together.

“We don’t have to,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your cheek. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

But you didn’t. Instead, you reached for him, fingers slipping into his hair, guiding him back to you.

“Please,” you breathed, lips brushing his, “don’t stop.”

And just like that, he was gone, lost in you, in the way you fit so perfectly against him, in the way you sighed against his lips.

For once in his life, Joel Miller let himself have something good. And that something was you.

Joel’s restraint unraveled with every kiss, every sigh, every way your body pressed into his. His hands roamed, exploring like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory, like he needed to know you this way, to feel you this close.

He lifted you slightly, his strong arms guiding you onto his lap, and you let him, melting into the warmth of him. Your fingers traced the lines of his jaw, the roughness of his beard, before tangling into his hair. He groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

His hands tightened on your hips, his grip firm but reverent, like he was still holding onto the last shred of control he had left. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his brown eyes searching yours, darkened with something deeper than just desire.

“This isn’t just—” he started, his voice rough, but you silenced him with a soft kiss, your hands cradling his face.

“I know,” you assured him. “Me neither.”

That was all he needed to kiss you again, deeper this time, like he had nothing left to fight, nothing left to prove. Just you and him, in this moment, finally giving in to something that had been pulling you together long before either of you dared to admit it.

You sighed into his mouth, your body arching into him, and he exhaled sharply, gripping your waist as if he was afraid you might disappear. His forehead pressed against yours again, his breath shaky, as if he was teetering on the edge of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

“This—” he started again, but stopped, shaking his head slightly, his thumbs brushing against your skin.

You cupped his face, tilting his chin so he had no choice but to look at you, to see the truth in your eyes. “Joel, it’s okay,” you whispered. “I’m here.”

His eyes softened, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your hips. “You’re gonna ruin me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a murmur.

You smiled softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I think you were already ruined,” you teased, but there was nothing playful in the way you looked at him. “I just found you.”

A quiet laugh rumbled in his chest, but it faded quickly as he leaned in again, capturing your lips with a kind of desperation that hadn’t been there before. This was no longer hesitation. This was acceptance.

His hands roamed all over your body, memorizing every curve, every reaction. And when you sighed into him, when you whispered his name with that mouth of yours, he was already gone.

This was the moment neither of you had dared to imagine, the one you had spent so long denying yourselves. But now, there was no turning back.

Joel held you like you were something fragile, something precious, his hands steady even as his breath wavered against your skin. He wasn’t just touching you, he was learning you, worshipping you, mapping every inch with slow.

His lips trailed over your jaw, down your throat, pressing soft, lingering kisses like he wanted to leave something of himself behind imprinted on you. Like he wanted you to remember this, to remember him, long after the night faded.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, and he groaned, a low, wrecked sound against your skin.

“Jesus,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to look at you, his forehead pressing against yours. “I haven’t done this for so long” He shook his head slightly, swallowing hard. “You make me forget how to be careful.”

You smiled softly, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “Then don’t be.”

Joel let out a breath that sounded like surrender before capturing your lips again, deeper this time, his hands sliding over your body like he couldn’t stand the thought of not touching you.

This was more than need. More than desire. This was home.

Joel's hands traced paths over the thin fabric of your gown. His fingers ghosted over your shoulders, down the length of your arms, following the delicate lines of your body like he was trying to memorize you through touch alone.

His calloused fingertips skimmed the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the gentle rise and fall of your breath. He wasn't rushing—no, this was something else. Something deeper.

“You feel like a dream,” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing the corner of your jaw, his breath warm and steady. His fingers toyed with the fabric at your hip, his thumb stroking slow, absent-minded circles.

You shivered, not from cold, but from the weight of his attention. The way he was looking at you, like he was trying to commit you to memory, like you were something rare, something he wasn’t sure he deserved but couldn’t help wanting.

Your hands curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more. He sighed against your skin, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path down your throat, his touch following the shape of you.

“You’re perfect” he murmured again, his voice low, rough, like he was giving you a way out even as his hands betrayed him, still exploring, still learning.

You didn’t want him to stop. Instead, you tipped your head back, giving him more, inviting him closer, your fingers slipping into his hair.

He followed the pattern of your neck, placing kisses down to your shoulders, slowly moving to your chest. He paused only to move his eyes upward in a sort of permission, to which you nodded. He pulled back the straps of your nightgown, leaving you bare to his eyes.

He couldn't believe it. Having you like this before him felt like a prize he didn't deserve. One of his hands cupped one of your breasts while he kissed the other, circling it with his tongue. “You’re so damn soft,” he murmured, his nose brushing against your jaw, voice thick with something almost reverent. “I’ve been thinking about you like this longer than I should’ve.”

You shivered, pressing closer, feeling the warmth of his body, the way his breath grew uneven as his fingers kept moving, tracing the places he’d only dared to dream about before.

His lips found your throat again, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your skin. He sighed against you, his grip firm but careful, like he was still afraid you might vanish.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he admitted, voice hoarse as he kissed the edge of your collarbone.

You smiled, hands slipping into his hair, guiding him back up, your lips meeting his in a kiss that made his breath catch.

“Show me,” you whispered.

Joel let out a low groan, his fingers tightening on your hips before sliding beneath the hem of your gown, pushing the fabric up ever so slightly. His hands were warm, calloused, the roughness of his touch making you shiver as he traced slow, reverent circles against your bare skin.

His lips never left you, brushing along your jaw, down the curve of your throat, pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses that sent a slow burn through your veins. He was taking his time, savoring every inch of you like he was afraid this would slip away if he didn’t commit it to memory.

You exhaled shakily as his hands smoothed up the backs of your thighs, slipping beneath the silk of your gown, higher, until he was gripping your waist beneath the fabric. His breath was ragged against your skin, his forehead pressing to your shoulder as he held you close, fingers flexing like he was still trying to ground himself.

“You sure about this?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight behind his words settled deep in your chest.

You cupped his face, tilting his chin until your eyes met. The way he looked at you—like he was desperate, like he wanted to devour you but was still holding himself back—made your heart ache.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you whispered.

Something in him broke then. Whatever restraint he’d been clinging to shattered as he kissed you again, deeper, hungrier, his hands roaming, pulling you impossibly close.

Your gown slid higher as he guided you back, his fingers tracing slow, teasing paths over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The fabric pooled at your hips, forgotten, as Joel’s lips found your collarbone, his hands gripping your thighs, his breath heavy against your skin.

“You’re driving me insane,” he murmured, almost like he was talking to himself, shaking his head as he kissed along your shoulder.

You smiled against his lips, running your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. “Good.”

Joel let out a low chuckle, his hands sliding higher, his touch reverent, unhurried. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before trailing lower, letting himself get lost in you.

His lips trailed lower, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to explore you. His fingers traced the path his mouth had taken, over the delicate fabric of your gown, mapping every curve, every dip, every place that made you shiver beneath him.

Joel’s breath was warm against your skin, his hands sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing just beneath the swell of your breasts. His touch was teasing, reverent, like he was still memorizing you, still convincing himself that you were here, that this was real.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him back up to you, and he let out a quiet groan as your lips met again, slow and deep. His hands settled at your waist, gripping you firmly like he needed to anchor himself to you.

The fabric of your gown was soft beneath his fingers, but he was more interested in what lay beneath. His touch dipped lower, palms smoothing over the curve of your hips, tracing gentle circles that sent warmth spreading through you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, searching. His thumb brushed over your cheek, his expression unreadable, like he was warring with something inside himself.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Heat bloomed in your chest at the softness in his voice, at the way his gaze drank you in like you were something precious, something he had no business holding but couldn’t bear to let go.

You smiled, brushing your lips against his in a slow, lingering kiss. “So are you.”

Joel huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t argue.

As soon as his clothes were removed, there was nothing to keep you apart. You curled your fingers in his hair as he kissed you down your body. You could feel all the emotions, but body ablaze, whimpering under his touch.

You felt his mouth against your upper thigh, tracing kisses as he tangled your hips up for him. You were already dripping as he licked the route up there to your cunt before sucking your clit and pressing his fingers against you.

You whimpered while holding his head between your legs. His cock hardened at the sounds escaping your lips, as the way you clenched around his fingers and he sucked as if he was starved, forcing your legs apart to have more access. His free hand moved up your stomach to your torso, grabbing one of your breasts, rubbing his nose against your clit. Under pleasure and instinct, you buried your heels into his back, dragging him closer until he could taste all of you.

He took his time fucking you slowly with his hands, the same he used to pray. He took his time to taste your wetness on his lips before locking eyes with you. You were flustered, and your eyes shone from pleasure.

“Fuck…” you whimpered, “Right there.”

“You’re so beautiful. I need you to breathe.” He whispered, he begged even, going forward between your legs, plunging into you easily. You moaned, leaning forward to kiss him. His lips were now on your breasts, tracing more kisses until he found your lips again as he found his way to drove himself down into you, cautious as possible.

His lips traced the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw, down the column of your throat, where he lingered, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses to your pulse point.

Joel groaned softly when your hands explored him, dragging over his shoulders, down his stomach. He caught your wrist, bringing your palm to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss there before guiding your hand back to his chest, where his heart pounded beneath your touch.

His patience frayed when you shifted against him, your body seeking more, pressing into the warmth of his. He tugged you closer, until you were straddling him, the thin fabric of your nightgown the only barrier between you. His hands splayed across your hips, his grip firm, grounding, as he guided you against him, coaxing a gasp from your lips.

"You feel so damn good," he rasped, pressing his forehead against yours.

His mouth was on you again, trailing lower, brushing over the swell of your chest, the sensitive skin of your collarbone.

“Now are we cursing?” You moaned, into his ear before he reclaimed your lips. He leaned down and sucked your nipples, lightly biting your breasts.

Joel groaned against your skin, his grip tightening as he pulled you impossibly closer. His lips traced every inch of you, memorizing the way you responded to him, the way your breath hitched, the way your body pressed into his touch.

“Don’t tease me, baby” he said, pounding into you. Grinding as deep as into you as it could encouraged him with your moans and nails scratching down his back. Those scars would leave the mark of the sin he was committing but didn’t care now.

He slid his hand down to your pussy and rubbed along your clit, making you fuck yourself harder on him by thrusting back against him.

He moved faster, with reverence, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mixing with yours between moans. It was slow, deep, unhurried, as if he wanted to make this moment last, as if he needed to savor every second of having you like this.

Joel whispered your name like a sacred prayer, his hands never stopping their worship of your body. His lips found yours again, swallowing every moan, every sigh, as the rhythm between you built, as the fire burned brighter.

You clung to him, to the feeling of him, to the way he made you feel, like you were something treasured, something sacred.

And when the pleasure crashed over you, and you came, he continued to fuck you, hovering you over the couch, leaving kiss on your neck. Soon after he followed, burying himself deeper, whispering your name with a broken groan. Joel collapsed against you, his breath heavy, his heart racing in sync with yours. He didn’t move, didn’t pull away, just held you close, his arms wrapped around you as if he was afraid to let go.

You ran your fingers through his hair, soothing, grounding, pressing soft kisses to his temple. He sighed against your skin, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder before finally meeting your gaze.

Faith was in this, in the way your lips lingered on his skin, in the way your fingers traced lazy patterns over his back, as if grounding yourself in him. It was in the way you looked at him, softly, with tenderness with love.

Joel swallowed hard, his fingers tightening on your waist, like he was trying to hold onto something fleeting. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, he looked almost lost, like he didn’t know what to do with the warmth between you, with the tenderness you offered so freely.

"You’re looking at me like that again," he murmured, voice rough, almost hesitant.

"Like what?" you whispered, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

"Like I’m something worth keeping."

Your heart ached at the quiet vulnerability in his words. You cupped his face, guiding him closer, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.

Joel sighed into you, melting against you in a way that made your chest tighten. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and steady.

"You are," you whispered. “You’re worth keeping.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just held you tighter, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, then to the curve of your neck, like he was trying to find his own answer in the feeling of you beneath him.

You wanted to stay here, in the present in the warmth of his arms, in the quiet where nothing else mattered but the slow, steady rise and fall of his breath against your skin against yours. But your mind wouldn’t let you. It wandered, slipping from the safety of the present into the tangled mess of your past, to the secrets still buried between you.

Would he still love you after all of it?

The thought made your chest tighten, a shadow creeping in at the edges of this perfect moment. Joel had given you so much of himself, let you see parts of him no one else had, and yet… you still hadn’t told him everything.

@jasminedragoon @mandaloriankait @jellybeanxc @spencercmlover @lilac-boo @disco-fairy75 @correapunk @existentialdreadofhumanity @secretcheesecakenacho @laliceee @exzidss @missladym1981

@drewharrisonwriter @hjzghi-blog @picketniffler @nobodyssfool @pedritosgirl2000 @koshkaj-blog @cigarxttxs @sweetpeakarolinaaa @wandasimp-69 @canteenee4 @obivari @shortandderanged @casualbananapatrol @stevie75 @hammerhead1776 @brittmb115 @strangersdotmp3 @goodvibesonly421 @jackie923 @lunpycatavenue @capuccinodoll

@iamtoriasworld @priincehoseok @luunarr0 @dinomecanico @missadangel @alrihhty @pasc4lfuzz @materialgirl-97 @harrycherrylove @canteenee4 @bensonispunk @locaparapedrito

@melsunshine @goodvibesonly421

[ignoringmyexams]

jason is in the kitchen after patrol the night before halloween, wondering if he should get some takeaway, when his phone rings.

"who the hell calls this late at night? its 4am.."

its your name. he picks up at once.

"hey, you awake? can i come over?" , by the tone in your voice, it seems like you wont take no for an answer.

"it doesnt matter" you continue, "im already standing outside of your door"

this is the only safehouses you know about, and jason has been careful to make you think that he lives there all the time. usually he wouldnt risk you seeing his red hood gear, but at 4am, he thought it was safe to head here, as it was his nearest and largest apartment. he really didnt want to run 10 minutes through the cold and rainy october night to get to the next safehouse, and so now he finds himself rushing to hide his gear someplace you wont find it.

"uh, sure, just wait and ill let you in" he manages to stammer out, feeling nervous not only because he didnt want you to find out his secret identity. he never thought he would end up in this situation that night he met you at that dive bar on the outskirts of crime alley. you were so obviously out of place there, hanging out with your friends, anybody could see that you were students from gotham university, on the hunt for a cheap beer. he and roy had quickly stepped in under the guise of being friendly drunks, to protect you from the leer of some of gothams underbelly.

since then, youd kept coming to the dive bar, and jason kept coming to look out for you. after a while he just accepted that youd managed to work your way into his life, and now hed drive halfway across the city to meet you for lunch after your lectures. at some point, he noticed that his gaze seemed to linger longer that it had used to, and by now he had realized that he was mad about you. something he hoped you still were oblivious to.

"i promise you, you wont regret it. ive brought takeaway!" you chirped back at him.

jason lets you in, and hungrily takes the bag from you. by now youve learned that dumplings are a quick way to get him to do your bidding.

"shouldnt you be sleeping right now? i remember you saying that you have an early lecture tomorrow, or, today i guess." jason asked you. in fact he knew you had an early lecture, because he had your schedule memorized by now, to be able to suprise you with lunch. at this point his brain blocked out other dates and appointments to be able to remember more about you, someting that got him in trouble with bruce every time he forgot training sessions, or family meetings.

you were sat on the sofa, taking up as much space as you possibly could, something you did every time you came over. jason watched as your face turned deadly serious.

"jason, what im about to tell you cant leave this room. you have to promise me."

"of course" he reassured, worried now, "you can tell me everything",

"you sure?" you shot back, "i dont want this to change our relationship, or the way you view me, ok? im still the same person ive always been."

now he was really worried.

"im batman." you said with a completely straight face. "vengeance never sleeps, and so neither can i."

he looked at you with the most deadpan expression he could manage at that point. you held out in silence for what seemed an impressive amount of time before you cracked.

"its true" you wheezed out, "my friends want me to be batman at the halloween party tomorrow, but the costume hasnt arrived yet. and so ive got to use last years costume instead."

the infamous costume of halloween last year. the one jason never got to see you in, as he didnt know you at the time. he hasnt even seen a picture, but the thought that you own it is enough to drive him crazy.

"and so i wondered", you continued, "if i, pretty pleeeasee, could borrow your leather jacket, you know, the one that maches red hoods perfectly?"

now usually, jason would have said no. no one touches that jacket. but its you. and jason was also invited to said halloween party. and if youre going to make him socialize, he might as well have something to look at while doing it. and so he throws the jacket at you.

"try it on", and you do.

although jason is taller and broader than you, you still have some muscle on you, that fills out the arms and shoulders of the jacket in a way that makes it look just oversized instead of akward.

jason almost wants you to keep it. the smile he receives when he lets you borrow it is all he can think of the rest of that night, as he eats the dumplings you left for him.

[romana-after-dark]

Keep Running, Little Bunny!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Summary: Logan takes you, but gives you a chance to escape... what isn't he telling you?

Warnings: NON CON DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Logan is a masochist and a bit of a sadist but def more into the pain. Feral!Logan, primal kink, THIS IS NON NON, READER AND LOGAN GET SLICED UP! I'm not listing everything here, just please read with caution! Physical and sexual violence! Somno!

Immersivity: Reader is fem, afab, able bodied

A/N: first time writing Logan!!! Im obssed with him after deadpool wolverine but the only other Wolverine movie ive seen was that really bad one in like japan or something lmfao. I do wanna watch them all now (Oscar Isaac is in apocalypse!) This may not be the most correct but I'm trying. Lemme know if you wan more Logan!

Divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Im late but I wanted to do the manspreading for the manspreading olympics by @toxicanonymity

"You're a hard girl to get a hold of, princess."

Logan is sitting across from the bed you've woken up in, in a chair with his legs spread wide. You can see the bulge in his pants from how he touched you, caressing your sleeping body as you slowly woke up from whatever you were given. His hands slid up your loose shorts, a single finger slipping in and out of your hole, making sure the first words you woke up to were, "Are you always this wet?" with his hot breath fluttering on your skin.

Slowly, the memories began to come to you: how you fought and kicked and screamed as Logan tried to drag you away, him shoving the chloroformed rag in your mouth until you passed out gagging... 

Now here you were, watching him as he palmed his hardness in front of you.

"i thought X-men were good guys." You spit, arms crossed over your chest as you watch him touch himself.

He shrugs with a little smirk on the right side of his face. "I wouldn't call myself a good guy. Never have. Saving the world is one thing... but I think I'm owed a little something on the side."

You laugh at that, a bark of a laugh that signals the disbelief that he's actually speaking to you right now, saying such things. "I don't owe you shit!"

"Maybe not. Doesn't matter though, because I'm gonna let you go." Logan groans, stroking a long, hard drag down the line of his cock in his pants.

This makes you narrow your eyes, suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"I'm gonna let you go. Gonna let you make a run for it. Here." He tosses a knife to the bed, making you flinch but then you quickly grab it, eyeing him. He's still touching himself, but with an agonized sigh he lets go. You wonder if he was close... Logan stands up, opening the door to the small, one room cabin and letting you see the trees outside. "Half a mile west there's a road. Not used a whole lot but someone is bound to come by, pick you up. I'll give you a head start, and you can use that knife on me. You can kill me if you try hard enough. Little fighter like you, might even be able to get the slip on me."

You blink. This can't be real. "This is a trick, isn't it... you're gonna punish me for running, or, or for stabbing you..."

Logan shakes his head, gesturing out to where the sun was setting fast. "Nope, won't punish you for that. Just like a challenge, that's all."

"There's... there a catch, isn't there... something you aren't telling me."

For a moment his face is still, like he's trying to put on a poker face. Then, a smile breaks. "I've never been a good lair. yeah, there's something I'm not tell'n yuh, bub, but really, what choice do you have?"

As you rise from the bed, he stands back. You hold out the knife, and he keeps his hands up, palms towards you... his face was almost condescending... but what choice did you have. Once you back away several steps, you turn around and make a run for it. You weren't exactly sure his powers, but given his name was wolverine you were fairly certain speed was one of them.

"I'll count down from 100!" Logan calls after you, his voice starting to sound distant. "100... 99...98... keep running little bunny! 97... 96..."  You faintly hear the 95 before you're out of earshot, running as fast as your legs can take you through the woods. Jumping over logs and stumbling down hills, you run more than you have since your high school made you do a mile, your out of shape body struggling to take in oxygen. Tree branches smacked your face, leaves wet with dew, the little sticks drawing blood on your cheek but you don't dare stop, not for a second. 

Something zooms past you nearby, a rustling of bushes an the faint sound of '10' in your ear, before all goes still again. You're close, you have to be.

'5'

Shit, shit. You grip the knife in your fist as you try to pick up speed, tired legs carrying you as fast as they'll go but it's not enough.

Logan is in front of you, a broad smile on his face and hands gripping your shoulders to stop you. "One." 

You scream, stabbing him in the rib cage expecting him to shout in pain but instead he moans in pleasure. No time to process this, you kick him in the dick and shove him over, making a run for it again, but Logan grabs your foot, causing you to fall face first into the dirt and grass. Strong arms yank you, despite crawling as nothing, and suddenly you are under him. 

"No!" You try to get away, but he's too strong, too quick, pinning your hands down and he looms over you.

"Pretty little bunny... running so fast..." Logan cocks his head to the side. "Not quite fast enough, eh?" Leaning down, Logan licks a stripe up your cheek, tasting the blood on your face. "Tasty little bunny..."

Your hand with the knife continues to be pinned down, Logan bracing his entire weight on your wrist while he undoes his pants, freeing his cock from the restraints. The throbbing member lay heavy against your thigh, a size you can only guess from the feeling and for a moment you think he's going to take off your shorts the same way. Then, Logan placed his knuckles at the base of your shorts and suddenly there's a stinging, sharp pain running up your leg and to your waist.

"Fuck!!!" No one is around to hear you screaming, no one except Logan who thrust his fist out, tearing your shorts and underwear to literal shreds.

When cock is thrust into you, you can't even scream anymore as the sounds get lodged into your throat, trapped in there just as you are now, his body caging you.

"Fuck'n tight there, princess. Is that fear, or is that all you?" You respond with a slap to his face which only makes him fuck you harder. "Aha, I think that's all you, baby doll, you were soaking my fingers earlier. Creamy little pussy ready to squirt on a strangers hands."

"FUCK YOU!"

"You want me dead?"

"Yes!"

He releases your sore hand, but the knife still lays next to it. "Take your shot, why dontcha?"

Thinking fast, you grab the handle again and with a scream, you plunge it into his neck.

To your surprise he just grins broadly. What the fuck is wrong with him.

Again, again, again, you stab the knife into different parts of his body as he stabs between your legs, fucking with more more intensity, with loud moans, closer and closer to his release. His gruff pants in your ear mirror your screams, listening to Logan moan and groan and whimper as he ravages your helpless body when you realize... he likes it. He likes it and the wounds are healing as fast as you can cut him. 

"Pretty bunny..." He chuckles lowly, his hand gripping your sides so hard it feels like a pinch, your fragile non-mutant body nothing but a plaything for him. With a loud growl, Logan cums inside you, filling you up as he continues to fuck him cum inside you, streams of hot cum flooding inside you. How was he still hard? Movements begin to slow, but your exhaustion begins to take it's toll on you, giving up harming him and simply taking it. "That's it... that's my good girl. Give in to me, little bunny. Let me have you... I can make it so good." Logan thrusts up into you, hitting something so devastating and deep no one has before, his rough hand sliding to your center to caress your bud.

"I don't want it to be good..." You cry weakly, even as pleasure builds down in you.

"Sure yuh do... c'mon, pretty girl you can give it to me... don't fight it, it's useless. You're mine now, my bunny... cum for me..." Logan's demeanor changes, suddenly indulgent and begging, his facial hair tickling your skin as he nuzzles your neck. "Wanna feel it... Wanna feel my sweet bunny coming on my cock... becoming mine..." You can't fight it anymore, the thick stretch on him, his skilled hands, the sleepiness clouding your rational... and he feels it too. "There we go... that's my girl, all mine, huh? You're mine now my pet... yeah... all mine..." It was painfully delicious, the way he made you feel, how his hands seemed to know you so intimately... 

Then that chloroformed clothe was on your mouth again, his cock still buried hard inside you. You didn't fight this time, letting the release of sleep take you. 

Slowly, Logan began to grind his hips into your body again, his hands claw extending again as they slipped under your shirt. No cuts this time, only a few nicks before he shredded your shirt now, leaving you in tattered clothes as he felt you up. Logan's mouth was at your ear. "Can't have you fighting me this time, little bunny. I'm gonna get to know this sweet body, I'm gonna lean everything it likes..." He cups your breasts, tweaking at a bare nipple. "Gonna take good care of you."

As you fall asleep, you can hear a car driving nearby.

THANK YOU!!!!!

I am so excited to try out a new character!!!!!!

Unfortunetly, after I made the go fund me listed above my car's fucking starter went bad ;-; that'll be like $800. I'm struggling to get by. Please please pease consider making a donation or donating o my ko-fi or biy me a coffee all linked above!. If not, thats totally okay! Theres no presure.

If you are inclinded, please consider reblogging this post with my go fund me.

Likes, comments and reblogs are sooooo appriciated!!!

I knew I'm new to logan but if you like OScar Isaac or Pedro PAscal characters, consider checking out my other work!! thanks!!!

Tagging those who expressed interest or who i thought might like?

No presure if its not your thing! Comment if you want more dark logan!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @reveric @wolverineswaifu @birbita @multiversed-daydreamer

love yuh!

[snoopychris]

introducing… dad’s best friend!chris x reader

warnings: unprotected p in v (DO. NOT. DO. THIS.), no use of y/n, reader has daddy issues, chris is 33 and has a daddy kink, a little dirty talk, dumbification if you squint. oh and also dad!chris.

“so you have kids? you look like one yourself but… maybe i’m just flattering you. but you gotta be at least 18 to be at the airport alone and you’ve got a vertical ID so you’re at least 21.” the bartender speaks, continuing to shake your drink all around.

you chuckle and shake your head, leaning your chin further into your chin. “no i don’t. i’m 23 though…i should probably get on that or something. i don’t even got a boyfriend… just visiting my dad and his new family for the new years. you? any kids?” he sends you a smile as he places the drink in front of you, tasting it from a straw before handing it off. “what is this again?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you take a sip.

the man across the counter chuckles as he grabs another drink ticket, making the beverage all while conversing with you. “i call it the chris. named after the best damn bartender this place has ever known. me. duh. but yes. i got a son. he’s 4. his names owen.”

“he probably looks up to you. don’t screw him up. but with all that aside, how can you be so sure of that?” you whisper, licking your lips as you grab the drink from the counter once more.

“i’ve been workin here since i was 18 years old. first 3 years i was only washing dishes but ive seen a good amount of bartenders come and go. i know im the best bartender that’s ever been here. 15 years of evidence.” his voice is more confident than cocky. a kind of attitude you’d kill to be in bed with. you hum in acknowledgment, looking at your suitcase besides you as the airport PA begins to speak again. the words are incomprehensible, but chris seems to understand them. some flight is leaving from gate B17.

“you think it’s weird or pathetic or something if im drinking at an airport bar at 2pm to avoid seeing my father?” you question, stirring the drink around with the small plastic straw.

“i’ve seen people here blackout drunk at 11am. i think you’re fine. what’s your name again, kid?” he asks, his lips parting as he pours a beer for a man besides you. you give him your name and he hums, handing you a piece of chocolate from behind the bar. “i think kid suits you better.” you furrow your brows at the gesture, reluctantly taking the sweet. “kid, just take it. it’s a piece of chocolate. no harm done if you take it. you don’t even gotta eat it. just get that look off your face. you look sad. you’re too pretty to look that sad.”

you blush at his words, popping the chocolate into your mouth. you slide your empty glass back across the bar, sending the bartender a smile- a real smile- and thank him honestly. “what time does your shift end?” you question, noticing another bartender begin to settle in.

“my shift? the second that you tab out. you want another and keep enjoying my company or you gonna head to your dad’s house?” he teases, washing the glass you handed to him. you shake your head and sigh, sitting up straight. “should probably head home. can i get the tab?” you whine, leaning your arm and head on the marble counter.

“nah i got it. get outta here. go see your dad. be nice to him.” he smiles, clocking out for the day. you slowly walk away, hesitantly pulling your bag with you.

when you finally make it out of the airport after an excruciatingly long walk, you let out a sigh. you knew you had four options. call a cab, call an uber, call one of your high school friends, or call your dad. you take a moment outside to gather your thoughts, only being brought back to reality when you bump into somebody behind you.

“shit i’m so sorry!” you groan, turning to profusely apologize to whoever was the victim. you smile when you notice that it’s chris. “oh. you again. following me are you?” you tease, poking at his shoulder.

“why you still here?” he questions. even though he hardly knew you, he felt like he still had an authority over you for no reason other than he was older than you by 10 years. you shrug as you let out a sigh, looking around. “i just don’t wanna see him yet. i mean… i dunno.”

chris sends you a look of remorse but then pulls you into a tight hug, one you clearly needed. he rubs a hand over his mouth before speaking. “you trust me enough to come back to my place? just till you feel good enough to go to your dads.” the look you gave him made him practically collapse.

your back was arched to a point that you didn’t even know you could reach. your face was buried into a pillow that was most definitely being stained with your mascara. “take it. thaaaaatts a good girl. take that dick. fuck you’re so tight.” chris speaks, his pants getting heavier with each of his thrusts. he’s holding your hands behind your back while you’re pushing yourself back onto his dick. it’s practically impossible for him to go any deeper into you, but you try to get him farther anyway. his grip on your wrists tightens when you let out another one of your whines. he can tell that you’re trying to spit out a sentence but that you’re unable to based on the cockdrunkness you’re experiencing. all you manage to achieve is a “c-cumming” and even that comes out all whiney and in chris’s words ‘pathetic.’ “y’gonna cum? fuck yeah you’re gonna cum. come on, pretty. cum all over daddy’s cock.” he whispers into your ear, leaving a mark on your neck as he lets go of your hands. your orgasm takes over your body, and any control of yourself you had left is out the window. you squirm and shake while chris is just smirking behind you, continuing his thrusts. he pulls out once you’ve settled down, spurts of cum falling onto your ass and lower back.

chris isn’t an asshole. he helps you clean yourself up and look presentable enough to go visit your dad. he even offered to drive you, but you refused because of how close it was. the arrival at your dads house was… fine. his new wife was fine and his four year old son was fine. it was all just fine. you could tell your dad tried cheering you up multiple times but it never worked.

the next day was the same shit, different day. you had to get through the day acting like you liked your step mother, had to get through the day acting like you tolerated children, and had to get through the day acting like your father didn’t hurt you when he left 6 years ago. you’re half tempted to go to the airport just to go to the bar. a knock on the door catches your attention, only furthered when your dad calls out to you. “hey honey can you get that? that must be your brothers friend and his dad, we’re buddies!. i invited them over for lunch!” he yells, to which you comply to almost immediately.

you open the door slowly, your eyes adjusting to the brightness of the outside world. a breath gets stuck in your throat when you’re met with the same eyes you saw at the bar. chris, whose eyes are about to pop out of their sockets, covers his sons ears as he speaks for both of you. “shit.”

a/n: new au who cheered! i did! i did! i finally get to write for chris thank GAWD cause as a chris girl i sure write a lot for matt.

tags(reply or message to be added): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @ayesha-eroticaa

[atlabeth]

true luck's kiss

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of tyche!reader

summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?

a/n: so this was supposed to come out on st patrick's day but unfortunately im the slowest writer in the world and ive also been doing nothing but watch basketball because we sleep in may. anyways here's a short fluffy blurb because it is getting way too sad in here with my hurricane fics lmao

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): none, this is all fluff. i know crazy coming from me

You grimaced as you pulled the arrow back. Sweat dripped down your forehead and you itched to brush it away, but you ignored the urge as you let out a deep breath. 

“Just like that.” Kimia nodded as she stopped behind you. “Perfect angle—now let it fly.” 

You did, and the weight lifted off your shoulders once the arrow embedded itself in the center of the target. 

“Ending on a bullseye,” she said with a grin. “Great work.” 

“Only way to do it,” you said, smiling at her. “Am I a worthy opponent yet?” 

She chuckled and patted your shoulder as she moved on. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as Cabin Seven. Today’s not that day.” 

You shook your head with a laugh and took your quiver off your back. “Keep telling yourself that!”

A bow and arrow had become your weapon of choice since the moment you stepped foot into camp, and you’d gotten good over the years—so much so that it was a surprise when your mother claimed you. One day, though, you would get an Apollo kid to admit you were better than them. 

You’d just finished putting all your equipment away, and when you turned back, you were met with a mess of brown curls and shining eyes.

“Luke,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “Didn’t know you were in archery today.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come here for archery—I came here for you.”

You chuckled as you gestured with your head, and he got the hint as you started walking together. “How forward of you.”

“It’s a living,” he said with a smile. “How was practice?”

“And small talk?” You pressed a hand to your heart and shook your head. “It must be my lucky day.”

Luke’s smile widened as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I do wanna hear about your day, though.”

You shrugged. “It was boring. Killed it at archery, nearly got killed on the climbing wall—I was gonna head back to the cabin to chill for a few hours before dinner, but it looks like you’ve taken that slot.” 

He chuckled. “So you are free?” 

“I’ve always got some time to listen to Luke Castellan,” you mused. “What’ve you got?” 

“I’m cursed,” Luke said. 

You stopped in your tracks and looked him right in the eye. “...Cursed.” 

He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s gotta be true. I mean, nothing is going right for me. I’ve been off my groove with my sword, I’ve lost every canoe race, I nearly burnt my eyebrows off last time I was in the forge, and my team hasn’t won a game of capture the flag this entire month—” 

“I know,” you interrupted. “I’m in your cabin.” 

“So you know how bad my luck’s been lately!” he exclaimed with a gesture. “It— it was embarrassing, but now it’s just pathetic.” 

“You know I can’t fix it, right?” you said wryly. “I’m not my mom.” 

“That’s what Annabeth said,” Luke mumbled. “But— but I’ve seen the way you live—you’ve got luck on tap! Your strawberries are always the ripest, you somehow find drachmas on the ground, and your volleyball serves are better than anyone’s.”

“I play varsity back home,” you said. “No luck needed.”

“Still,” he emphasized, “you’re naturally lucky. You’ve literally got it in your DNA, and I’m fresh out of it. That’s gotta be worth something.” 

“Not really.” You crossed your arms. “So what do you think I can do about this?” 

Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Say something?" 

You barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Like what?” 

“Pray to Tyche,” he said. “You’re her only kid here—she’s gotta be listening.” 

You bit back your smile as you shook your head. “Fine. Just for you.” 

“Thank you,” Luke sighed, watching with bated breath as you cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and pressed your hands together. 

“Tyche, dearest mother, goddess of luck and fortune—I ask you to shine on Luke Castellan on this day. Smile upon my friend and break his very real curse. If you do this for him, in return, he will do all of my cabin chores for the next month.” 

When you opened your eyes, Luke looked quite unimpressed. “Very funny.” 

“Feel any luckier?” you asked with a smile as you started walking again. 

“I don’t think so,” he said, falling into step with you once more. “Especially because you’re putting conditions in your prayers. I didn’t know we could do that.” 

“My mom has a sense of humor,” you mused. “And I also think I might be her favorite.” 

“Not all of us have that privilege,” he said wryly. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your arm to stop you.  

“I think I’ve got it,” Luke said. “How about a kiss?” 

Your eyebrows rose, but you couldn’t help showing your amusement. “Now it’s a kiss that’ll break your curse?” 

He shrugged. “Like I said—you’ve got luck in your DNA. Maybe you could pass that along.”  

“Really,” you said dryly. 

“I’ve kinda tried everything,” he said. “A kiss from a lucky and pretty girl is far from the worst option.” 

You chuckled. “You really know how to flatter ‘em.” 

“I try,” he grinned. “Are you up to it?” 

You bit your lip as you looked at Luke. Obviously, he was attractive—you’d always held an appreciation for his curls and the way they would constantly get in his eyes. He cut an impressive figure from constant, year-round training, and he even made the camp shirt look good. And gods, that damned smile got you. 

There were worse things than kissing you, and there were certainly worse things than kissing Luke Castellan. 

“Alright,” you sighed, taking a step forward. “Pucker up, Castellan.” 

Before you could really doubt yourself, you leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t really expecting to actually… like it. 

Your first thought was that Luke’s lips were softer than they had any right to be. Your second thought was that his cologne was the scent always floating around the Hermes cabin. You didn’t really mind, though. 

Luke gently put his hand on the back of your head to keep you there, and the moment lasted much longer than you initially planned. You also didn’t mind, though your thoughts were far more muddled than they should’ve been when you finally managed to pull away. He seemed to have a gift for that. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you looked at him, not even trying to hide your smile. Turns out kissing Luke Castellan was actually pretty great. “Feel any luckier?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a soft grin, his eyes twinkling. You wondered if he had the same thought about you. “Yeah. I really do.” 

“I think that means it’s worked, then,” you said. 

Luke nodded with mock austerity. “We should probably stick together for the rest of the week, though. Just to make sure this bad luck goes away for good.” 

“You might be right,” you said. “And uh— you think you need an extra boost?” You glanced away as you bit back your smile. “Just to be safe and all. To really get rid of this curse.” 

“You know,” he drew your attention back to him as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you leaned in closer. “I think I might.” 

[justarkive]

MAGIC | jeon jungkook

pairing : jungkook x f!reader

genre: smut smut smut , angsty ? minimal fluff tbh 18+

warnings: nudity, infidelity, swearing, cheating, jk is such a dick and so is oc tbh! (i do NOT support these actions lol)

smut warnings: jerking off, unprotected but not p in v, mean jk during sex, grinding, choking ¿ nipple + boobies play, i hate warnings sm pls lmk if ive missed any lol

wc: i have no idea how to check im so srry

this fic does not reflect the real jungkook/other members involved and is simply fiction!

A/N: this is my first fanfic guysss!!! pls pls pls dont b afraid to lmk what you think, idk if ill make a pt2 but if anyone even reads then i might! im not too sure if i like this myself though!! also not proofread sorry about any mistakes!!! ill stfu now!!

read part 2 here: MAGIC pt II

read my other work here: masterlist

It’s raining today, and you can’t help but shuffle your legs around under your blanket, gravitating towards the miniscule warmth that he had left there last night. That manly, musky scent clutches onto the fibres of your silk sheets. Though your not sure if its just burned into your memory, with your desperation for a small slither of his essence convincing you its still all over your sheets.

The rain patters against the window the same way it did when he was here, when you’d had reconnected, the sheets were still rumpled in the way he was laying there, only the candles which had given up within the night and him were no longer there.

Its cyclical, comical, hilarious. He’ll come, plushie in hand and a stupid grin on his face asking to, in Jeon Jungkooks word’s: chill. Then you’d tangle up in your sheets, he’d call his girlfriend saying he’s caught up with work, and leave before you wake up.

It’s pitiful for you, and you cant help but laugh at yourself every morning.

Eventually realizing that there is stuff to be done, your legs are thrown off your bed and you mewl while rubbing your eyes, a quick glance to the mirror beside you gives you a clear view of your bare body. Your knees are bruised and there are hickeys all over your neck.

You guess its time to go mormon style.

———

You ignore the comments from your fellow workers asking what the fuck you have on right now. This morning, the sulk session lasted an hour too long resulting in you turning up late to work in a bright red turtleneck and leggings. Your day went by quick, your boss giving you the simple tasks of cleaning tables and restocking the display fridge.

But with an hour of your shift, you’d realised you spoke too soon when you see an all too familiar tattooed hand swinging in your peripheral vision.

Your heart is literally in your stomach, swimming in the acid once you also realise he is not alone and she is with him.

Shes clutching onto his hands like a koala, hair curled and face rubbing against his chest. For now, he hasn’t seen you, and you really fucking hope he do-

“__?”

Shit.

Immediately, you scuffle around, dropping the mop you were using to clean up one of your regular’s coffee spills. Sending him an awkward nod and smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, you bend down to grab it, quickly coming back up mentally preparing yourself for this awkward interaction coming.

“Jung-kook… what are you doing here?” Annoyed since he’s chosen here out of all places to get coffee with his girlfriend. You make sure to keep your noise level down, considering she’s ordering just a couple feet away.

He smirks at you, taking the mop from your hands and twirling it around. Classic Jeon Jungkook, cocky bastard.

“What? I cant get coffee with my girl?” You roll your eyes, trying to cover up the fact he’s casually talking about his girl dosent make you feel like hes sharpened the mop and stabbed it through your stomach.

“Yeah? Add: coming to the workplace of the girl you fuck behind her back to that.”

You both immediately shut up when you hear a clacking of heels coming your way, Jungkook giving you an eyeroll whilst handing you your mop.

“__! Its great to see you, how have you been? I see your still working here, what happened to getting a better job?”

Eunbi. Arrogant, cocky, bitch! You seriously dont know how he puts up with her.

“Actually Eunbi im still studying before i get a better job, and if your so interested, Im sure Jungkook can tell you all about it, i have stuff to do, enjoy your food.” I hope they poisoned it.

For some context, You and Eunbi met first through your brother since they being in the same social circle, she quickly became good friends with him. Eventually, she got kicked out of her college dorm and moved in with you and Taehyung for a bit.

Then she starting bringing Jungkook there.

Jungkook and Tae then got really close, which led to him sometimes coming over without Eunbi and well… The rest is obvious.

Your situation with Jungkook happened one night when you, him and Tae got really drunk. He’d passed out on your bed and you refused to sleep on your brother’s. Innocent brushes of skin led to heavy makeout sesh’s and then the ripping of condoms.

The reason you hate Eunbi so much was because she invaded your space, even before she’d gotten with Jungkook, she’d treat you and Tae as if you were her personal maids which is what eventually led you to saving your money and getting a small student flat a few minutes away from yours and Tae’s apartment. Now, he lives with Jungkook and Eunbi.

Before you’d moved out, you had a serious talk with Taehyung insisting that she’d pay the rent once you’d left and to no longer be leeching off of him. With a sad goodbye, he’d promised you it wouldn’t happen ever again.

———

Its 9:00pm, after a shit-show day at work you seriously need some junk food in your system to make some part of you feel good. You procrastinate for a minute, the couch feeling far too warm to get up and grab your phone, but a knock on the door has you getting onto your feet quickly.

You already know who it is, but you check the peephole before opening. Safety first, duh!

A large, doe-eye is taking up your viewpoint. Making silly faces to the door as if he knows you’re looking… (he does.)

A part of you imagines what would happen if you just didn’t open the door. You cant help but feel the pangs of guilt every time he comes over, but whatever magic spell he’s casted on you has got you twisting your keys around and welcoming him in… The spell being a bag of takeout of course!

“I guessed you were hungry since you left your shift late, also Eunbi wont get off my back, She wants me home before 12:00, told her I was meeting up with friends.”

Huh. Explains why he’s so dressed up. You arent complaining though, the double denim is seriously doing something to you right now.

You bite your lip before contemplating what your about to say to him, worse that can happen is you he’ll storm out and the dick appointment will then be cancelled.

“It’s still a miracle how we get away with this shit, Kook. Why don’t you just leave her? You know she treats you like shit.”

You straighten the shoes he removes off his feet by your door before following him to your kitchen where he takes a seat on the island. His jaw clenches for a mere second before he looks at you before scoffing.

“And get beat up by your brother? No thanks. __ Im not having this conversation tonight, so just eat.” Opening the bag of takeaway, he pulls out a box for you and for him.

“Im being serious Jungkook, the more we keep fucking around like this the more likely we’re both getting beat up! And your excuses? They’re getting shitter by the minute.”

“Tell me __, are you asking to stop this?” He’s motioning his fingers between you, and your breath catches in your throat.

“W-what? Im not-“ Stepping out of his chair, hes coming towards you and before you know it, hes tilting your chin up and boring into your eyes with a grin.

“Spit it out, baby.”

You take a hold of his hand, shoving it off of your face and willing yourself to speak up. “Kook- stop. This is seriously not right, we cant do this any lon-“

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. And just like always, you give in. Kissing back, yet when he pulls away ever so slightly you find yourself whispering against his lips about how much you cant do this.

But like clockwork, you end up on the kitchen counter with one of his hands in your pyjama shorts and his tatted hand around your neck.

Your mewling in his mouth when his fingers finally slip into your soaked panties and start rubbing your clit. He pulls back and chuckles when you chase his lips.

“C’mon baby, tell me, you wanna stop? Cause this pussy’s telling me something else,”

And for some reason, you tell him you do.

You immediately regret it when his hands leave your panties. The warmth which was from his breath fanning on your face and his hands around your neck is suddenly replaced by air which feels far colder than usual.

Something in Jung-kook’s demeanour seems to have changed, he seems almost, mad?

“Alright, I wanted to be nice to you tonight baby, but it seems like you wanna be a brat, and so be it, strip.”

Jeon Jungkook and his damn magic.

Your camisole and shorts are on the floor in seconds, he’s watching you intently. Casually leaning his hands against the counter behind him. Tatted fingers unzip his jeans, pulling out his semi hardened cock giving it a few languid strokes before taking a few steps before he’s towering over you again.

Your hand reaches for his dick, but he stops you. “Wha-“

“Sit on the counter.”

“But its cold! Ah!” Your protest was useless, his arms effortlessly picking you up and plopping you on the counter. The cold marble chills your ass cheeks before he’s spreading your legs apart and staring at your pussy. Like this, a wave of embarrassment washes over you from the feeling of being exposed and you instinctively try to close your legs, but his iron fucking grip on your thighs makes sure that’s not happening.

“You’re gonna sit there, with a wet fucking pussy, and watch me jerk off, and then i’m gonna cum on it. Im gonna cum on it and if you’re good, i’ll consider fucking it into you after.” He seethes, dropping his jeans to his knees and fisting his cock rapidly in front of your pussy.

You mentally scream at yourself to never pull this shit again, cause the sight of his wet cock being jerked off by the same hand that was in your pussy makes you leak out even more onto the counters. Youre subconsciously grinding your hips into the air, whimpering cause your so touch deprived and watching Jeon Jungkook Jerk off in front of you was seriously not helping.

Suddenly, hes pulling you off the counter and turning you around. You squeal while preparing for the intrusion of his cock however you feel it being jerked between your ass cheeks and you ultimately just wanna scream.

“Please, Kook I- i need-“ His hands come around to your neck, applying pressure to it, the other travelling to your tits and squeezing them.

“Fuck.” His lips press against your ear as hes sloppily licking and kissing your earlobes, pinching your nipples and moaning right into your fucking brain. “Im gonna come fuck.”

Immediately, you turn around, getting back onto the counter with his help, his moans increase in volume as he jerks off his angry cock faster and faster in his fist, before suddenly hes pressing his lips to yours and moaning louder than ever tonight and cumming all over your pussy.

You moan into his mouth, watching lines of cum stream onto your stomach and down to your ass, revelling in the slight stimulation you get from the warmth of his cum on your long forgotten clit.

“Please.” You’re begging, on the verge of tears. You sloppily kiss his lips, frantically sucking on them and grinding against his still hard cock to the best of your ability in this position before a phone ringing in his jeans pocket interrupts.

You frown, seriously hoping its not who you think it is.

“Wait baby, let me jus-“

“Please, Kook”

He picks up the phone regardless, “Baby?”

The re-use of the pet name has your stomach twisting in regret. “Yeah? Are you okay?… Eun-… I’ll be home in 10.”

His phone is placed back down onto the counter, “Are you seriously leaving?”

He looks at you for a long time, his own heart twisting at how your eyes have suddenly gotten glossier. “You know i can’t stay after she’s called me, and it’s almost 12, baby. Tomorrow?”

He says it so fucking casually it makes you blink back your tears and pick up your soiled panties off the floor. You quickly move behind him to pack the takeaway back into the bag, as he watches in confusion.

“__? What are you doing?”

“Just leave, Kook.” You try your hardest to ignore the feeling of his cum sandwiched between your folds and panties, but its like a constant reminder that Jeon Jungkook will always be there.

He’s throwing his jeans on and gives you one last look before walking to your door. “Im sorry. Ill text you,”

You don’t say anything, stretching your arm out to give him the takeaway, “You don’t want it?”

“No, I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Im sorry, __”

You exchange one more glance at him standing in your doorway before closing it, realising that he’s going home and it wont be with you.

—

That night, you spend an hour on your shower floor, the cum washed away and long forgotten in the drains.

That morning, you will reply to Jeon Jungkook when he messages you.

Him and his damn magic.