#it could all become fine the following night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vxtanne31 · 2 days ago

Text

As The Night Crawls

Part 2

Part 1 can be found in the link below

Sevika/Reader (nickname Cannon)

Made a Part 2 because of requests

Warnings: MEN AND MINORS DNI 18+, Oral (r!receiving,Sev receiving), fingering, Strap (r!receiving) F/F

It had been a week since that fateful night. Probably the best sex you had ever had. Both of you spent that night fucking until Sevika made you both go to bed. You had a job to do the next day and needed rest.

You both avoided showing any affection in public. Sevika was uncomfortable with the idea of anyone knowing she was fucking her work partner.

You and Sevika continued the routine of working for Silco and sitting at the Last Drop to gamble. You were in your usual spot in a chair next to her, nursing a drink and people watching. In between round of cards you would chat with Sevika and the men. You tried to keep things as normal looking as possible.

However, the tension between you and Sevika was thick. Work had been so busy that you and Sevika kept getting interrupted every time you tried to be intimate. It had become a constant frustration. Sometimes when no one was looking, Sevika would pull you into a dark corner and kiss you. The kisses were always hot and heavy, both of you groping every inch of flesh you could find. You never dared let Silco find you.

You were lost in thought when Veronica came up behind you and placed a kiss to your cheek. “Miss me? I was wondering if you wanted to meet me outside…”

You and this girl had once shared some fun in the alley next to the bar. However, a certain tall bionic woman was clenching her jaw as she tried to focus on her cards. Sevika’s grey eyes flickered to Veronica and then back to her cards, feigning disinterest.

“Not tonight, I have a late night job to do,” you took a cigarillo from Sevika’s case and lit one, not bothering to turn to Veronica.

Veronica tutted and began to massage your shoulders, “poor Cannon. Having to work so hard all the time for Silco. I can help release some tension.” Her hands wandered down to move over your chest.

You bit your bottom lip to contain your chuckle. Little did she know that your late night job would be Sevika. After a week of sitting with the sexual tension, you wanted more.

Sevika’s eyes wandered to where Veronica was touching you. She sucked in a breath through her nose, her patience with Veronica waning. She reached under the table and placed her mechanical hand on your knee. No one could see due to her red cloak. It was her only way of showing affection, or in this case, possession, in public.

You couldn’t lie that you were interested in seeing how Sevika would deal with her jealousy. You were, however, concerned about how Veronica would handle it. It wouldn’t be fair.

You gently removed Veronica’s hands from your body “Not now Veronica,” you lit the cigarillo and inhaled the smoke. O

Veronica stiffened at the obvious rejection. “Fine, enjoy being alone,” she huffed and walked away. She walked back to her friends who tried to console her. Didn’t seem to work because, Veronica ran out of the bar with her face in her hands.

Sevika’s eyes darted to yours for a split second, her mouth quirking to a smirk. “Think you just broke her heart.”

Your eyes followed Veronica as she ran out of the bar in tears. “I told her it was never gonna be serious.” You shrugged and took a drag of the cigarillo.

Sevika’s mechanical hand traveled up your leg and gently squeezed the flesh of your inner thigh before letting go. She went back to focusing on her game.

After another hour you were getting bored. You tipped your head back and took the rest of your drink down in one gulp. “Okay you degenerates, I’m going home.”

Before you got up you reached down and gave Sevika’s knee a squeeze. She flicked her eyes over to you briefly and recognized the look you gave her. She looked back at her cards and gave a curt nod, letting you know she understood.

You walked home alone, the streets still crowded with folks of the Undercity. As you placed your key in the keyhole to unlock it, you were met with someone placing their hand around your waist and pulling you against their body, trapping one of your arms between you and them.The familiar scent of cigar smoke, motor oil and sweat hit you.

“You must have walked quick,” you smirked as Sevika’s nose grazed the side of your exposed neck. You shivered as she inhaled your scent and placed a kiss at your pulse point.

“Open the door,” Sevika whispered, her hot breath making your body shudder. She ground her hips into your ass.

You turned the knob with your free hand and pushed the door open. Sevika wasted no time and walked forward, pushing you in along with her.

You laughed and let her take control, knowing it’s what Sevika wanted at this point. She pushed you towards the kitchen counter and made you turn around. You hopped on to sit so she could move between your legs.

Sevika kissed you feverishly, her hands moving and over your strong thighs and gripping.

“I’ve been waiting to fuck you all week,” Sevika rasped between kisses. She moved her hand up and unzipped your black leather vest, moving your tank top up to palm your breast with her flesh hand.

You arched to her touch. “I get it. I was about to pull you into the bathroom at the bar and eat your pussy in one of the stalls.”

Sevika groaned at your dirty words. “Plenty of time for all that tonight,” she brought her lips back to yours, her tongue sliding expertly into your mouth. She pulled your legs higher to wrap around her waist. You locked your legs around her as she lifted you off the counter to carry you to your room.

“Fucking hell you’re heavy,” Sevika grunted as she walked over to your bed and set you down on it.

You scoffed and untangled your limbs from Sevika’s waist, laying on the bed like she wanted. “Yeah well can’t be a wafer when my job is to beat people up.”

Sevika shook her head and kneeled in front of the bed. She took one of your legs and propped your foot on her knee to unlace your combat boot. “If I dropped you in the water you’d sink to the bottom.”

“Oh please, you probably got at least twenty pounds on me,” you rolled your eyes and helped Sevika take your boots off.

Sevika snorted as she finished with the other boot and moved to unbuckle your belt. “Twenty? Try thirty,” she pulled the belt from the loops,the leather making a resounding ‘crack’ and threw it on the floor.

“Hell no, you’ve seen me lift. Definitely only twenty and I’m being generous.” You lifted your hips for Sevika to shimmy off your pants and underwear. You pulled your remaining tank top over your head before Sevika could rip another.

Sevika smirked and shook her head as she toed off her own boots. “Man, you love to argue.” She pulled at her belt and started shedding her own clothes. “Have you forgotten this?” She waves her mechanical hand. “Weighs a bit more than your flesh and bone.” She wiggled her fingers for dramatics.

You rolled your eyes and sat up, unashamed of your nudity. “That doesn’t count.”

Sevika mimicked your eye roll and pushed you down with a large hand. She unbuckled her cropped vest and threw it somewhere in the room. “What did suggest last time? Sit on your face to shut you up?” Sevika unzipped her fly and pulled her underwear and pants down in one.

You stared up at Sevika completely naked before you. “Well hop on then,” you curled your finger, motioning her towards you.

Sevika crawled onto the bed and bent down to kiss you. The kiss was surprisingly tender, especially since both of you had been frantic. Her thigh slid in between your legs, her hips moving to grind against you. Sevika groaned softly as her flesh hand explored the soft skin of your torso. She parted her lips from yours to stare down at you, her eyes hazy and soft.

You looked up at Sevika, reading the slightly vulnerable expression. You reached out a hand and cupped her cheek, pulling her in for another kiss. You poured your affection for her into it, running your fingers over her back, moving to grope her larger chest.

Sevika melted into your embrace, starved for touch. She moved her lips from your neck to your nipple, sucking the pierced bud into her mouth. She wanted to taste you, touch you, inhale the scent of your skin.

You submitted to her embrace, knowing it is what Sevika desired. You let her explore your body, writhing to the sensation her mouth and hands brought to you.

Sevika felt your body relax underneath her and smiled against your nipple. She moved to kiss in between the valley of your breasts, her steel eyes flashing up to meet yours. Her heart jumped when she saw your green eyes staring back at her. Her head swam with feelings, making her heart pound violently. Was she about to have a heart attack? She removed her mouth from your skin and in haled through her nose and exhaled from her mouth. She didn’t know whether she wanted to kiss you or run away.

You could see Sevika’s shoulder’s tense like she was going to bolt, her eyes mildly panicked. “Hey, hey,” you ran your calloused hand over her flesh bicep and then over her back. “It’s okay, just breathe.”

Sevika shook her head furiously to bring her back to reality. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” She kept taking deep breaths, moving to rest her head on your chest.

You continued to rub Sevika’s back soothingly, feeling her body start to relax in your embrace.

Sevika hated to admit that the mere scent of your skin comforted her. She felt embarrassed by the betrayal of her own body.

You pulled Sevika’s head up to meet her eyes. It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen her. You leaned in and kissed Sevika softly.

Sevika began to snap out of her self-sabotaging thoughts as soon as you kissed her again. Her weight fully on top of you as she melted into your embrace. She let you flip her over onto her back, your bodies still pressed against one another.

You came up for air, your lips still centimeters apart. “Let me take care of you Sevika,” you whispered and trailed your mouth to her neck, kissing and nipping gently, moving her hair out of the way for better access. You found the spot that made her groan and grind against you. Your thigh in between her legs ground against her pussy, the wetness becoming more apparent. You wanted her ready, aching for you.

Your mouth kissed down to her chest, mimicking her actions earlier and taking a dark nipple into your mouth. Her other breast was heavy on your palm as you groped her.

Sevika grasped the sheet underneath her as she watched you explore her body. You knew exactly what she needed, you adjusted to help her feel at ease. Sevika had never felt so…taken care of.

You kissed down Sevika’s toned stomach, your hands caressing her sides. “Move back,” you commanded softly.

Sevika sat up and moved further back on the bed. You took another pillow and put t behind her so she was comfortable. Sevika licked her lips, watching you settle in between her legs once more. Your mouth was inches away from her sex.

Your eyes met with her’s as your tongue swiped up the seam of her pussy to her clit. Sevika shuddered and closed her eyes in pleasure. She was met with a harsh smack to her thigh.

“Eyes on me Sevika, I want you to watch me as I make you cum.”

Sevika didn’t know if she was more turned on by the way you said her full name or the vulgarity of your words. She grasped the back of your head and pushed you down to her aching cunt.

You went to work, listening to Sevika’s commands of ‘put your tongue in me,’ or ‘a little to the left,’ and ‘suck my clit.’ You wanted to give her all she wanted and deserved. She took so much crap from everyone, she deserved someone who wanted to give.

Sevika rolled her hips with your mouth, her metal hand cradling the back of your head as she propped herself up with the other. She wasn’t very vocal during sex, only letting out a few groans and grunts. She let her head fall back when you did something that felt really good.

At some point you had closed your eyes, reveling in her taste, your hand wandering up to grasp her breast. Sevika tugged your hair, making you open on eye to look at her.

“Eyes back on me. You wanted to see me cum. Fuck- I’m close.”

Your other eye slowly opened to meet Sevika’s. Her admission in combination with her taste was making you so wet.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming ah!“ her words came out in gasps as she stared down at you. She kept a firm grip on the back of your head, her body tensing and shuddering as the orgasm rolled through her.

Your face became covered in her wetness, thighs squeezing around your head, almost suffocating you. You sucked on her clit to ride out her orgasm until she tugged on your hair to get you to stop.

You rested your head on her thick thigh, the air returning to your lungs. You felt her reach down with her flesh hand and run her fingers through your loose hair. The affection of the touch was not lost on you. You traced your index finger over her inner thigh, making little patterns over her skin.

This was the most intimate sex Sevika had experienced in a long while. She watched you relax under her touch, your thick locks threaded in her fingers. Eventually, she tugged your hair to get your attention.

“I brought something,” Sevika reached down and took something from a bag you didn’t realize she had brought in. Inside was a large, purple dildo and strap.

You couldn’t help but wince a bit. “I’m assuming you want to fuck me with that?”

Sevika nodded and watched as you sat up on your knees. “I think you’d like it.”

“I-uh, haven’t been on the receiving end of that for a long time.” You rubbed the back of your neck, averting your eyes.

Sevika tilted her head in curiosity. “Have you ever been strapped? Or was it a man?”

You pursed your lips. “I had sex with a man twice. Both times felt physically okay but I realized I didn’t like men pretty quick.”

Sevika sat up and scooted closer to you, gripping your chin to look at her. “Don’t be embarrassed.” She leaned in to kiss you, tasting herself on your tongue. The kiss became heated, your body reacting to her touch. Sevika broke the kiss and moved her lips to graze the shell of your ear. “I’ll be gentle. But if you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to do it.”

You could tell that Sevika really wanted to try. You bit your bottom lip. There was nothing gentle about Sevika. “Okay.”

Sevika pulled her head back to meet your eyes “okay?”

You sighed and nodded, “okay I’ll try it. Just go easy, I need to walk tomorrow.”

Sevika sat up and pulled her legs through the strap pulling it up to her waist. “Lie back,” she commanded as she tightened the straps.

You looked down at the object now covering Sevika’s sex. Even though you preferred looking at her pussy, It was oddly erotic on her. The purple phallus looked intimidating, jutting out in front of you at eye level. You stared at it warily as you complied with Sevika’s request and relaxed back on the bed.

Sevika sensed your tension as she approached between your legs. This was the first time she saw you stripped of your cockiness, unsure and nervous of giving Sevika such control.

Sevika felt her impatience rise to the surface and had to swallow it back down. She wanted to pull you roughly and shove her cock into you. But this was you she was dealing with. You weren’t like the other women she had been with.

“Get on your hands and knees.” Sevika pulled at your hip, deciding to switch it up.

You hesitated again and Sevika pulled you up to bring her lips to yours in a reassuring kiss. Once she felt your body relax, she pulled away. “Trust me pretty girl.”

You nodded and turned around, blushing as Sevika ran her hand over your back and to your firm ass. Sevika reached her fingers down to your entrance, inserting two to see how ready you were. You gasped as her thick fingers easily pushed into you. “You’re so wet. This all from eating my pussy?” Sevika smirked and pumped them a few times.

You moaned, Sevika’s filthy words turning you on even more than her fingers. “I love making women cum.” This earned you her fingers being removed and a harsh slap on the ass. You yelped and turned to glare at her. “Ow! what the fuck!?”

Sevika glared back. “I’m the only woman you’re gonna make cum from now on.”

You rose an eyebrow, “jealous much?” You countered and turned your head back forward

Wrong thing to say. Sevika grasped your hair and hauled you up against her chest, her metal hand trapping you to her. “I’m possessive, and you, doll face, are mine.” Despite the roughness of her actions, she placed a tender kiss to your cheek. “Nod that you understand.”

You didn’t even want to argue. You nodded and Sevika let go of your hair pushing you to back down to brace yourself on the bed.

She pressed the tip to your entrance and grasped your shoulder for support. “Just relax into it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

You took a deep inhale of breath as you felt the tip prod you. You bit your bottom lip and tried to relax your body as much as possible as Sevika pushed in. There was a slight burning as she made it halfway. Then, without warning, Sevika shoved herself fully in. “AH! What the seven hells?!” You turned back to sneer at her.

Sevika pulled back out and thrust back in. “Shut up and give it a few minutes, it will feel good.” Sevika’s eyes were filled with a crazed lust. She really did enjoy using the strap.

You looked away, knowing you wouldn’t back out now and breathed through the discomfort. You felt Sevika’s pelvis hit your ass, forming a tempo as she thrusted in and out. The burning started to turn to pleasure and you pushed yourself back against her.

Sevika noticed you starting to enjoy yourself. “Thats it baby girl, take my fucking cock.”

Your eyebrows almost rose to your hairline at Sevika calling the strap her ‘cock’ but you said nothing. You let yourself get lost in the feeling, enjoying the feel of Sevika gripping your waist as she picked up her pace even faster.

“Sev you feel so fucking good!” You encouraged her, moving along with her thrusts. Her fingers dug into your hips in a bruising force.

Sevika could feel her clit twitch behind the strap as she fucked you with it. She pulled out and flipped you over, leaning into your body to thrust back into you. She grabbed under your knee to push your leg out further. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she slapped her hips against you. Sevika leaned down to give you a sloppy kiss, her body coiling tight. “I wanna see you cum all over me baby.”

“Ah fuck Sev!” You moaned against her lips, gripping her hair hard. It felt really good but you needed more. You moved down to rub your clit but Sevika pulled your hand away and replaced it with her own, her thumb applying the correct pressure.

Sevika’s rhythm was faltering as she held herself above you, her circles on your clit getting sloppy. “Ah! Cum for me baby, let me hear you pretty girl.”

You came at Sevika’s words, crying out her name and arching into her. Sevika fucked you through your orgasm, letting out a string of curses as she shuddered and held the strap deep inside of you, her pelvis pressed against you.

Sevika collapsed, arms going weak, still shaking and panting from the come down. She kissed your breasts as she buried her face against them.

You let Sevika relax against you, running your fingers through her hair soothingly, her hair dampened by sweat. “Man you’re tired for someone who spends hours in the gym.”

Sevika huffed against your breast. “I would tell you to shut up. But I know you won’t.” Sevika didn’t move, enjoying your attention to her scalp.

“Take that thing off and sit on my face. I told you that is the only way to shut me up.”

“Will you give me a minute woman? I just came.” Sevika groaned and shifted her hips.

Your fingers froze in Sevika’s hair. “Wait you came? How?”

Sevika pulled out of you slowly making you hiss. She rolled over next to you in the bed and pulled the strap off her hips, throwing it to the floor. “Come here beautiful” Sevika pulled your head to crook of her flesh arm, your body flush to her side. “For your information, I can cum just by fucking someone with the strap. I love it.”

“Really? Never knew that was a thing.”

You kissed the side of her breast and ran your fingers along her chiseled abdomen.

Sevika took your wandering hand in her mechanical fingers and guided it to her core. “Feel for yourself,” she let your middle and ring finger wander through her sopping folds, her breath going heavy again at your touch. She turned her face so her nose brushed against yours, lips inches from touching. “Don’t doubt my stamina girl. You’ve heard what they’ve said about me at Babbette’s. I’m insatiable.” Sevika brought her mouth to yours in another heated kiss.

You moved your fingers gently, avoiding her twitching clit. You inserted two of your fingers into her, pumping them in and out. You broke the kiss and stared into here beautiful eyes, hooded from pleasure. “And you’ve heard what they said about me.” You pumped your fingers in and out faster.

Sevika shifted her hips towards your body as you fucked her with your fingers, her body moving to your touch. She removed your hands and moved to straddle your face, her body facing your lower half.

“This is a great fucking view,” You smiled and slapped Sevika’s ass as she was bending forward to reach your sex. The sound reverberated through the room.

Sevika stopped her decent and turned to look at you, her upper lip curling into a sneer. “You think you’re funny girl?”

“Hilarious actually,” you shrugged and lifted your head to take a long lick at her sex.

Sevika rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning back to spread your legs. “you’re a little brat,” she said hotly against your wet pussy.

“And you’re a bitch,” you clapped back and attacked her clit with your mouth, sucking on it harshly.

Sevika squeezed her eyes shut at the onslaught and went to pay the same attention to your sex, her skilled mouth delving into your folds.

You both worked tirelessly, both arching and grinding against each other’s mouths. It was almost as if both of you competed to see who could make the other one cum first.

You were nearing the edge when you saw Sevika’s mechanical hand clench the sheets, a familiar tearing sound echoed the room. Sevika was fighting for her life to hold off before you. You were not about to lose to her. You moved to Sevika’s puffy clit and sucked hard, gripping her thick thighs in a bruising hold.

“Ah shit Cannon I’m gonna-“

Sevika snapped, her clit not withstanding your assault. She sat up with her weight on your face as she came, grinding against you, body convulsing.

You were completely under Sevika, her weight against your head. You sucked her clit through her orgasm, letting her use you for her pleasure.

Sevika tried to catch her breath as she came down from the high. Only then did she feel the sharp slaps to her thigh. Sevika hurriedly lifted her hips from your face.

You took a ragged gasp of air. You were a second away from passing out from lack of oxygen. Your vision had darkened around the edges. Every breath felt as though a gift.

Sevika moved away, genuine concern etched into her face as she watched you catch your breath. Sevika hesitantly reached out, her flesh hand moving to rub center of your chest. “Breathe girl. Are you all right?”

You stared at the ceiling and ran a hand through your sweat damp hair. “Yeah, I mean if that was the way I died, would’ve died happy.”

The thought of you being gone from the world made Sevika expel a ragged breath. She moved to lay down next to you, staring up at the ceiling. A comfortable silence befell you both.

You could tell something was on Sevika’s mind. You turned on your side to look at her, resting your head on your hand. “You ok?”

Sev said nothing, she reached down over the bed and found her cigarette holder. She lit one and handed it to you, lighting one for herself. “Mind if I stay here tonight?”

The question was so straightforward, no BS or emotion, just as if she asked you about the weather. “Yeah stay as long as you want Sev. Gotta change the sheets though. You tore through these.”

Sevika shrugged and took a deep inhale of her cigarillo, blowing the smoke out to the air. “I’ll buy you a new set.”

You shrugged back and stared up at the ceiling. You could feel Sevika’s walls climb back up around her as she laid there quiet. She showed you a vulnerability during sex that she wasn’t comfortable with. You took another inhale and sighed, sitting up to go get the fresh sheets.

You felt a cold metal hand wrap around your wrist. “I meant what I said.” She pulled you to lay back down, her eyes still focused on the crack in the ceiling.

“When you said what exactly?”

Sevika’s jaw clenched, “that you’re not going to fuck anyone but me from now on.”

You were silent for a moment and swallowed, “does that same rule apply to you or will you still be frequenting the brothels?”

Sevika gave you a brief side eye and took another drag and exhale before responding. “I haven’t been to Babette’s since I fucked you.”

You quirked your eyebrow and turned your body, lying on your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows. “You must really like me then.”

Sevika turned her head to look at you, studying your face “I do. Is that a problem?” She moved a strand of hair from your eyes.

Sevika’s eyes bore into you, as if searching for something. “No problem at all. I like you just as much.”

“So we agree? Only me from now on?” Sevika’s stare was unwavering.

You pursed your lips. “Have you ever been in a monogamous relationship Sev?” You sat up and leaned against the headboard, taking another drag before getting an ashtray and putting it in between you two.

Sevika didn’t like where the conversation was turning. “Not for a long time.”

“What happened?”

Sevika was quiet for a moment and flicked her cigarillo’s ash onto the ashtray. “She couldn’t be loyal.”

You tilted your head and took a drag. “How did two you meet?”

“She worked at Babette’s.”

“Well there’s your first problem-“ you started but Sevika gave you a glower that would turn anyone’s insides cold.

“Don’t you think I don’t know that?”

“Well you obviously didn’t at the time.” You shrugged.

“Forget it.” Sevika put out her cigarillo quickly and was about to get off the bed.

You grabbed her wrist. “No no shit I’m sorry Sev. I’m an asshole. I’m really sorry.”

“I’m trying to be serious with you for a moment and you can’t stop giving me wise-ass remarks.” Sevika gritted but didn’t throw your hand away from her.

You put out your cigarillo and sat up on your knees. “I-I’m sorry. I do want this, okay? I want you.” You sighed and looked down and away. “I am new to this too. You were my friend for these two years. And now you’re something more. I need to learn how to be more gentle.”

Sevika sat there silent, watching you grapple with your emotions in front of her. She gave you the space to continue.

You removed your hand from her wrist but held her hand in both of yours. “I’ve only ever really been on my own and- and I guess I use my sarcasm to deflect serious situations. I’m sorry.”

Sevika took her hand from your grasp to grip your chin, tilting your head up. “Look at me.”

You couldn’t, memories of your parents who mistreated you, people who took advantage of you and heartache you endured rushed to the surface. Years of unshed tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

“Cannon, look at me.”

You sucked in air through your nose and let out a shaky breath, repeating the process three times before looking at her. Even though you had stopped the tears, your eyes still head the glassy appearance.

Sevika’s eyes softened when she saw how close you were to breaking down. She loosened her grip on your chin and moved to cup your cheek. “I’m not easy either. I’m just as fucked up too. This could end with both of us even more fucked up than we already are. But-“ she closed her eyes took in a deep breath. “But I’m sick of watching you with other women. I want you, for myself.”

Your lip quirked in a shaky smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Guess you really didn’t like seeing that girl paw at me earlier.”

“Cannon shut up, yes or no?”

It was your turn to search Sevika’s eyes for a moment, letting her words sink in. Sevika wanted you, and you wanted her. Why were you being so stupid? Why were you making her wait for an answer?

“Yes.”

……………………..

Please let me know if you guys want more with these two!!!

#f/f fanfic #sevika x reader #sevika #sevika x you #arcane #lesbian fanfic #lesbian #sevika arcane #sevika/reader #arcane smut

33 notes · View notes

sylphidine · 3 days ago

Text

@i-am-a-fish

From one of my longfics [it's dinner, not lunch, but it's delicious and everyone is happy]:

The vibrant, art-filled walls of SpaHa Soul never failed to send a shiver of happiness down Swatch’s spine. The Friday night after they got their job offer letter, they followed Uncle Julius to a corner glass-topped table, while Indigo pulled out a chair for Aunt Desiree. Catechu chatted with the guitarist setting up for the evening’s set and waved at Artist T., just emerging from the kitchen with plates for the group of diners in the opposite corner.

Uncle Julius had found this place about eight years ago and it had become THE go-to place for Dyer-Paletta family celebrations.

And tonight they were here to celebrate Indo and Catto’s getting summer internships at the Wythe in Williamsburg, as well as Swatch’s internship.

“Chef’s choice tonight, sir,” Uncle Julius said to Artist T., after getting a hearty backslap from the proprietor. “All three of these fine young people, going out into the world and making their mark!”

“It’s a better world for you all being in it,” agreed Artist T., making a note on his pad and heading back through the swinging doors.

“I like the new eyeglasses, honey,” Aunt Desiree commented to Swatch. “You look good in aviators, and brown is a nice color for you.”

Swatch nodded.”The tint’s helpful for cutting out blue light, and since I expect I’m going to be spending a lot more time in front of screens with the new job, I figured they were worth a splurge.”

On the other side of the table, Indo was listing off all the different areas in the boutique hotel where he and his twin would be working during their ten weeks. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep a straight face when I’m answering phones and directing calls to ‘Le Crocodile’. It’ll probably get easier after a while. At least ‘Bar Blondeau’ sounds more normal. Only thing I’m worried about is getting there on time every day.”

“Better than the commute would have been if we’d gotten the gig at The Ludlow. That commute would have been a real bitch.” Catto caught his mother’s glare and muttered, “Sorry, mom. It would have been a real bear .”

Uncle Julius laughed and then turned to Swatch. “You’re going to be cutting it awfully fine, between graduation and starting this new job. You’d better start looking at apartments now if you don’t think your landlady will extend your lease past June.”

“I know. Even with a decent salary, I’m either going to have to spend all my time commuting or all my money on a shoebox to live in.” They realized that it sounded like they were complaining, and quickly added with a laugh in their voice, “Or I could ask my favorite aunt to use her real estate agent superpowers and her mad networking skills.”

“That’s the spirit,” Aunt Desiree answered. “We’re not going to leave you out in the cold, even if you have to stay with us for a month or so while you’re getting your feet under you. You’ve got family, don’t forget."

Swatch smiled back at her. “I will never forget that.”

“And don’t forget we’re proud of you. All three of you,” Uncle Julius interjected, waving his hand to include his sons. “Not a bad apple in the bunch.”

“Thanks, Pop,” Indo replied for himself and for his brother. “Especially thanks for being such a good sport about us not working at Ambit Automation.” “Oh, you boys might still end up there if the economy tanks. Luxury disappears, but people always need manufacturing. Look at the Brooklyn Navy Yards. That’s as big a comeback as the Jazz beating the Nuggets.”

“But the boys are using their degrees,” Aunt Desiree pointed out. “Degrees that you and I both approved of, husband mine.”

“Yes, dear.”

At that moment Artist T. and Amber swooped in with platters of fried chicken, stuffed pork chops, coconut rice, spicy yams, and collard greens, enough to feed an army.

Catechu raised his glass. “To family.”

Four glasses clinked against his.

how would one of your OCs react to a HUGE burger and delicious seasoned french fries?

#bringing you fluph and joy #storytime #fic: call signs

3K notes · View notes

irithiadourden · 2 days ago

Text

Your love speaks, your hands love

Well, here we go. This is my one-shot to the @sjmprideweek!

I chose prompt 6: Love Language.

Pairing: AzrielxEris

All comments and reblogs are appreciated and you can also go follow me on ao3 and leave kudos if you liked this! I have some more Azris coming soon. Also, please excuse any typos, english isn't my first language.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Tags: @applerubyy @constantsins

They had always walked the fine line between being enemies and something else, but that line had become more and more distorted with every year that passed between secret meetings and whispered moans.

At first it had been something small, a simple detail like Eris putting a cup of his favorite tea in front of him in the morning, when they stopped leaving each other's house right after sex. It was no surprise that he knew Azriel preferred green tea, since the fireling was too smart, always observing everything around him.

Then came the Winter Solstice, and after drinking and celebrating, away from the world in Eris's private cabin, Eris had placed a carefully wrapped package on Azriel's hands. The Shadowsinger was stunned when he opened it: they were leather gloves that felt slightly warm to the touch, as if some small part of Autumn's magic had enchanted them to always protect his fingers from the cold.

"Don't let Cassian and Rhysand know, or they'll say you're cheating," had been his complicit comment, with a smile that for some reason made Azriel forget whatever it was he was going to say and kiss him until his lungs ached from lack of air, and maybe a little more after that.

Several years had passed and much had happened since then. Azriel had rescued him from the clutches of Koschei; Eris was no longer the Crown Prince, but the High Lord of the Court of Autumn, and in this new reality, to which they had adjusted as easily as if it had been like this all their lives, their meetings were no longer hidden in the darkest hours of the night. Azriel had taken Eris to Velaris and to every corner of the city he loved, even showing him the best bakery on the bank of the Sidra. Eris, for his part, had ordered a larger bed, one that would comfortably accommodate the wings of an Illyrian —and the occasional smokehound that had the audacity to sneak in with them while they slept— knowing that his partner had often ended up with stiff muscles after resting on an ordinary mattress.

And now that they existed in a calm, unhurried state, Eris had decided that he was tired of Azriel stealing his favorite shirts and of him having only one outfit to change into, since they spent practically every day together. Besides, if Azriel had more clothes, he could just rip them off when it was inconvenient, when his fingers weren't fast enough to undress him.

"You spend more time here than at your home, it's the least I can do." That was all he said before showing him his modification to the wardrobe, which he had made twice as large, with one part clearly designated for the Shadowsinger.

On the other hand, Azriel might as well have continued to wear the clothes he kept in a drawer. But Eris had cared enough to give him practically a whole damn closet in his own room. Azriel's side of that dresser was full of the typical clothes he used to wear: dark tunics and pants, Illyrian leather pieces, and even...

A dark blue coat in the style of Autumn's court, but carefully designed so that he could wear it despite his wings. No, not despite, the entire garment was made specifically for a Fae with huge wings like his.

Azriel was speechless, staring at the garment as if it could disappear if he took his attention away for just a second. The next thing Eris felt was the jolt of lips that pulled him far away from reason. It was a kiss loaded with so many words he would have needed hours to classify them —love, gratitude, awe— only he didn't need to, he knew it, deep in his chest where his heart was beating wildly. Azriel embraced him without holding back even a little bit of his strength, perhaps even stealing his air away, or that is the reason the High Lord chose as an excuse for not being able to breathe, so intertwined that it was impossible to discern where one began and the other ended.

Eris smiled against his mouth and reached up to caress his cheek, arranging a lock of black hair. Azriel always has been better with his body than with words.

*******

Since Eris had become High Lord, there was not so much time for lazy mornings spent tangled in the sheets, chatting quietly as if that could keep the sun at bay, prevent it from finally peeking over the horizon and forcing them to wake up from this space between dreams they had woven for themselves. And that, oh that was a serious loss, but one they made up for whenever they had the chance.

Like now. A ray of light sneaking through the window made Eris frown, unwilling to wake. Azriel chuckled softly and moved closer until he was on top of him, sitting between his legs. His journey began on milky thighs, leaving kisses like butterfly flutters, a touch so subtle it could only come from a lover's mouth. When he was satisfied with every inch covered by his lips, he moved to the stomach, his hands tracing meaningless patterns on either side of the chest he was worshipping. Eris' freckles were a story he never tired of retelling.

Azriel finally finished the tour in his mouth and then kissed him without haste. The Illyrian was a strategist and therefore had planned carefully. His litany of kisses was his master plan to convince Eris to stay in bed with him for a while longer. If he could make him forget the rest of the world for a few minutes, the strategy had worked.

"I have to get up and you know it..."

Of course, he wasn't above employing dirtier maneuvers, which were valid in desperate times. So Azriel used his agility and strength to invert their positions, leaving the fireling on top of him, leaning against the expanse of his chest, and used his arms to hold him in an embrace that allowed no buts or exceptions.

Music in the form of Eris' laughter was his reward. By the cauldron, how he wished he could record that melody. It was like the sound of leaves dancing in the wind, the birds singing above the great maples that surrounded the Forest House and the warm crackle of a log in the fireplace. He had no precise words to describe it, he was just certain that it made him happy in a way he had never experienced before. When Eris laughed, Azriel's whole life lit up and the shadows danced happily around the flames of this fire of life and passion that was the man above him.

"I have excellent reasons to dissuade you from getting up." The illyrian sought his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Eris settled against his chest and sighed, feigning annoyance but making no real effort to escape from between his arms.

"And what are those reasons, Shadowsinger?" he asked, raising a copper eyebrow. His hands unconsciously stroked Azriel's shoulders. A reflex.

Azriel's smile widened, his eyes dancing full with a mischievous gleam that Eris caught too late, and he really wanted to protest, he wanted to tell him that there was a long list of things to do, but the objection died on his tongue as Azriel, in another precise movement, shifted them both so that they were now sitting on the bed.

Like moved by instinct, Eris's legs wrapped around his waist so he wouldn't lose his balance. Azriel didn't miss the opportunity to hug him tightly, hiding his head in the space between Eris's neck and shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of wood, cinnamon, and petrichor. Being so close that their chests touched, Azriel allowed himself a moment to savor the intimacy, noticing how their hearts pounded to the same rhythm, a tune just for the two of them.

Eris instantly relaxed. The High Lord had apparently been persuaded enough by the arguments of the illyrian warrior.

*******

The light of the golden hour illuminated the temple through the large windows, tinting everything with an orange hue, along with the hundreds of candles lit around the altar. As was the tradition of the Autumn Court, a mating ceremony began with the first blush of twilight. There was a special aura in the air, as if the combination of this sacred hour, the inherent reverence of the ceremony, and the wild magic of the High Lord had made it all ethereal.

The High Priestess smiled in deep affection as Eris and Azriel approached to stand before her, both dressed in their finest formal attire. Azriel wore a suit of the Night Court's typical cut, a blue so deep it almost looked black. His jacket was embroidered with delicate silver thread and autumn motifs. Eris also wore a similar outfit, but it was garnet, except for the collar of his overcoat, where star patterns woven in gold stood out.

Eris took a deep breath to calm his pulse. After so many years, he had seen this male in more situations than he could count. Angry, covered in blood and ready to attack any threat head on, scared like the time he had saved him from Koschei, happy, excited... smiling in such a beautiful way that Eris could have spent hours watching him, studying every little wrinkle around his hazel eyes or memorizing the dimple that only formed on the left side of his cheek when he laughed truthfully. Probably an eternity would not be enough to soften the desperation to hold him in his arms, to listen to him breathe and press him against his chest as if they could melt in an embrace.

The sound of the priestess speaking brought him out of his thoughts as she began the ceremony, giving a short speech about love. How it was the Mother's blessing, the intertwining of two souls that were both parts of a whole, and the complement of each other. And there was no doubt that if their souls could find the way to each other after what they had been through together, it was impossible to question fate.

Azriel's grip on Eris tightened slightly when it was time to exchange their vows, his nerves on edge. He had never been good with words, they tended to be unnecessary when his hands could show so much more, when his mouth on Eris' was a statement in itself. But this time was different. He needed to say it, to push the words into existence.

"If I ever dared to wish for anything, watching the stars at the foot of Ramiel, it was to have a mate." His voice sounded strange to his own ears. It was too full of emotion for him to contain. "My highest honor is that that person is you, Eris. My greatest blessing is to know that you are a part of me as I am a part of you. And I will love you until Carynth bathes the sky with her light for the last time, and even after that, in the eternity of this life or the next."

He reached up to the High Lord's face to wipe away with his fingertips a single tear that had just rolled down the pale cheek. He hadn't realized at what point he had started to cry himself, the emotion tightening around his neck. But a look into those eyes, like two pieces of shimmering amber, made him smile and breathe again. Eris smiled back before he started to speak.

"There was a time when I thought I was unworthy of a mate, but the Mother, in a gesture of divine grace, made it so that not only did I have one, but that it was you." The complicit chuckle between the two helped Eris calm his heart enough to continue. "There's not a single thing I wouldn't live through again, good or bad, as long as I knew you were the reward for every sacrifice. I love you, Azriel. With the intensity of a fire that will never stop burning, with the certainty that I would do anything to keep that flame alive."

Both of their families watched them in silence with the exception of a few small, tearful weeps. Every person there loved them and had supported them from the beginning, when their escapades were nothing more than a stolen sigh at midnight and a lonely morning. Now they had the honor of witnessing their union.

The High fae officiating began the ceremony by wrapping their hands, as was the tradition of the Night rites, with a ribbon threaded with the colors of both courts, burgundy, gold, black, and silver, a beautiful contrast. And as Autumn's custom dictated, the ribbon burned in a bright reddish flame, scorching the fabric but not burning them. A tingle of magic crackled on their forearms, as if responding with joy.

Next came the mating promise, which they both spoke with such clarity and certainty, as if the words came not from their lips but from their hearts, from some instinctive corner beyond consciousness.

I promise you the first taste of my wine,

the first bite of my hunts,

I promise you every night,

and even the last of my days.

I shall be a shield for your back

as you are for mine,

and my body and spirit are yours,

I place them in your hands.

I promise you every beat of my heart,

until my horizon turns dark.

The kiss Azriel gave him when they finished talking could have brought him to his knees. And his mate smiled at him, the happiness in his body too much to contain, because finally, after so many years, everything felt right.

I'm so happy to have finished this piece! It was a long time since I've writed something more than a drabble so this feels special. Also my love language is acts of service too so it was a delight to write that.

#eris vanserra #azriel shadowsinger #azris #acotar #azris supremacy #azriel #idiots in love #sjmprideweek2025 #love language #post canon #my writing #writing

22 notes · View notes

donatellarose · 3 days ago

Text

— chilled touch

Astarion x f!reader

rated e - 568 words

tags: incredible slow burn, the one bed trope but with a tent, don't ask why a fire is safe to burn inside,

prompt: #1152 "Would you be so kind to keep your cold hands to yourself?”- creativepromptsforwriting

dividers: saradika graphics

A fleeting touch in a cold tent on the mountainside.

At Lae'zel's insistence, your party had pushed up through the mountain pass to reach the Githyanki creche. As the stormy clouds rolled in and the frigid air whipped at your clothing, you found yourself inching closer to Karlach to try to stay warm. It was only after the heavens had opened up and soaked you all to the skin that Shadowheart suggested you stop for the night to rest.

What should have been a simple task turned into a nightmare. The winds tore down Wyll's tent as soon as it as was put up, Shadowheart's lodgings faced a similar fate. Gale had cast one look at the tangle of cloth and tent poles before waving his hands and muttering something under his breath.

A large tent seemed to spring from the earth, unshakable and strong. You quickly followed Gale, Karlach, Wyll, Halsin, Shadowheart, Lae'zel and Astarion inside.

You cast a sidelong look at the pale elf, his crimson eyes scanning his dagger for any imperfections. Quickly glancing away, you focused on setting up your own bedroll. With his heightened senses, the vampire probably already knew how your heart skipped a beat anytime you saw him take down a goblin in combat. His lethal skills with a dagger were almost an art. Maybe you'd been imagining it, but he seemed to have been watching you at the Tiefling party from afar with a goblet of wine idly in his hand.

You were the only party member who had gone to bed alone, half the night had been spent feigning interest in your own wine as you sat down by the river. A mind too full of conflicting emotions to think straight, much less celebrate simply doing the right thing.

It seemed Gale had covered everything when he created this tent, including curtains dividing each area to allow for some form of privacy. You shiver before hastily sliding out of your armor, carefully laying it out to dry.

Returning to the main area where the others had begun to turn in for the night, you placed your bedroll by the fire. The others did the same with Astarion settling down near you.

Astarion's hand brushed your arm as he stretched out. You shiver at the contact, any warmth you had sapped away. He quickly realized how his chilled touch must feel to you. Like a shard of ice sliding down your skin. He murmured a soft apology, nestling down in his own bedroll.

"It's fine. Would you be so kind to keep your cold hands to yourself? I fear if I get any colder, I'll become an ice mephit."

You tried to cover your flustered state and flushing cheeks with a weak joke. Without waiting for a reply, you tug your blanket over your shivering frame. With your racing heart leaping in your chest like a giddy schoolgirl, it was a wonder you didn't get more than a slightly concerned glance from him.

"I would hate for my favorite traveling companion to suffer such a cruel, cold fate."

His words were like silk, every mannerism almost calculated. The way he lightly draped his blanket over your form once you had fallen asleep. The way his gaze traced every one of your features as if he could memorize this moment. And especially when he lightly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with a touch as soft as a feather.

#bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

brattyspence · 3 months ago

Text

sober thoughts | s.reid

summary: pining!reader makes a drunk call to spencer after going out with friends, and is aggressively trying to flirt with him.

tags: reader is DRUNK! alcohol!! dont read if thats not okay!!, fluffy as fuck, spencer is the most gentle of gentlemen, pining!reader, reader wears makeup/dress/heels, spencer is lowkey bad at flirting but he shows affection in weird ways, one use of Y/N (sorry i know)

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head for a while. sigh.

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

He was used to seeing you tipsy, if that was even the right word for it.

You were friends, after all. Best friends, even. And the fact that he lived only a few doors down from the pub the team frequented made it stupid not to offer his couch to you after going out with the team.

You weren’t a heavy drinker by any stretch of the imagination. Every now and then on a Friday night, you’d head out with the team and have one, maybe two drinks if you were feeling particularly adventurous–but you still didn’t want to drive home, especially when he was offering his home to you. Truthfully, you just liked getting to hang out with him. You liked getting to exist in his orbit and discuss a random topic late into the night. It had become normal for you, an excuse to do something together that didn’t revolve around work.

What was not normal was the fact that it was a Saturday at 11 PM and you were really drunk, calling him.

Your contact photo filled his screen, illuminating the dark room. You weren’t one to call, preferring the convenience of a text. Especially this late, which worried him a bit. He picked up quickly, tucking the phone to his ear.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hey, Spencer?” It wasn’t your voice. “This is Molly, Y/N’s friend. I’m sorry to call so late. We’re out with some friends from college celebrating someone’s birthday, and she got… like, drunk drunk, kinda sloppy… and she’s been blabbing about you for a while. She wanted me to call you.”

“Oh,” he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself. “Can you put her on?”

“Yeah. Not sure you’ll get anything out of her, though. Here…”

He can hear the general chatter and chaos of the bar over the call. There’s some rustling sounds before you finally take the phone.

“Hi,” you say, your voice dripping with a certain kind of fondness. He can hear the smile through the screen.

“Hey,” he replies. ”You having fun?”

“Oh, Spencer, I was… I haven’t heard your voice in so long. What’re you…” you trail off, lifting the phone from your ear to answer someone else. “Sorry. ‘S so loud in here.

He chuckles to himself. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yeah, ‘nd that was… Oh, I can’t do math right now. A long time ago.”

“Are you okay?”

On the other side of town, you were sitting in a barstool, swiping your finger along the beads of condensation rolling down the glass of water in front of you.

“Mhm. ‘M good. Fine. Drunk.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he smiles. “Are you gonna be able to get home?”

“Uhh…” you pause. “I was gonna Uber… but then I thought that maybe… if you weren't busy… we could hang out…”

He could vaguely make out dialog on the other end of the phone. Some kind of “Girl, this sounds really pathetic,” followed by a “Shhhh!” in two other drunken voices.

“But I could also make Molly order me an Uber,” you added. “‘S okay. Nevermind.”

“No, you're not getting in an Uber inebriated. That’s ridiculous.”

“‘M not inebriated.”

A background voice comes back. “Yeah, you are.”

Spencer sighs into the phone. “Just… send me your location, please? I’ll come get you.”

“O-kay. ‘M sending it right now, jus’ tell me when you-”

The call went dead before you could finish your thought, which he chalked up to some kind of drunken user error. A few seconds later a text came through

You: dropped a pin

You: its molly again. let me know if you got this

He responded, relieved that you had someone looking after you, before getting ready and grabbing his keys.

You were sitting on a bench outside the bar. The air was cool and crisp, but you were warm, your skin clammy from the alcohol. You had been mumbling something incoherent about Spencer, he’s just so good to me, Molly, and oh, god, I don’t know what to do with myself, and…

Molly, who had been trying to sober you up (unsuccessfully), was standing in front of you, arms crossed, listening to your incessant rambling.

“...’nd sometimes he talks to me, ‘nd I have no idea what he’s talking about but he’s so hot when he’s smart. You should hear, it, Mol’.”

Cars pass on the street behind you, filling the silence momentarily. Molly looks over her shoulder, scanning the street before turning back to you. “Alright. Be quiet. He’s here”

“Don’t care.”

She puts her hand out to help you up, which you accept rising to your feet. You’re surprised by how unsteady you feel, but you focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll make fun of you for this tomorrow,” she says.

You only have a few seconds to grumble in protest before Spencer reaches you. He scans you quickly, chuckling to himself.

“You are a mess,” he says, amused.

You feel slightly infantilized watching Molly hand over all your personal effects to him. You weren’t even sure when you’d put down your wallet and keys, much less where, but you’re thankful she picked them up and not someone else.

“Good luck,” She tells him. She pats your arm before turning back to the bar, leaving you alone on the street with him.

“You okay?” He asks. You watch him shuck off his jacket, which he helps you slide over your arms.

“‘M fine,” you reply. “Warm.”

“Because you’re drunk.” He keeps his eyes trained on the zipper of the jacket, or really anywhere that isn't you in that dress. “Alcohol is a vasodilator. So you feel warm. But it's forty degrees outside, and hypothermia doesn't care.”

You pout at him, watching as he pulls the zipper tab up enough to shield you from the cold. Only then does he really look at you.

“I wanted you to see my pretty dress,” you pout. Your words come out slurred still.

You meet his eyes for a split second. He opens his mouth, seemingly about to reply, but quickly decides against it. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought.

“Come on. We gotta get you home.”

“You don't like it?”

“I didn't say that.” He tucks a hand under your arm as you begin back down the street, keeping you steady.

“So you do like it?” You look over at him, your face more excited than he was expecting.

“It’s very pretty,” he replies.

Your shoulder bumps his as you walk, seemingly unable to maintain a straight path along the sidewalk. The click of your heels against the pavement is uneven, despite your efforts to maintain some kind of composure, and unfortunately for you, he’s right, and it's freezing outside. You make steady progress down the block, placing all your focus on not falling flat on your face. Thankfully, he doesn't live all that far.

“D’you think I look pretty, too?” You ask, approaching the steps to his apartment.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, looking down at you. He takes in the slight flush of your cheeks as the effects of the alcohol battle the chill in the air.

“I’m trying to flirt with you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, you're going to be difficult all night, aren't you?” He sighs, ignoring the question. He pauses outside the door, keys in hand, and unlocks the door before guiding you inside.

“You don't ever want to flirt with me.”

The door falls shut behind you with a clunk. The room is dark, with only the distant light from a lamp somewhere across the room illuminating it. You squint when he turns on the big light.

“That’s not true,” he says, quietly. If you weren’t hanging on to his every word, you might have missed it. He carefully unzips the jacket, tugging it off your shoulders and setting it on the table.

“So why won’t you flirt with me right now?”

“Because you’re drunk,” He guides you towards the couch, his touch still careful as ever.

You flop down onto the cushions. The leather sticks to your legs as you sit. Being the gentleman he is, he has already left pajamas out, his pajamas, you’d since claimed as your own, with the blanket you steal every time you stay over.

“So what?” You begin working at the clasp on your heels, fumbling with the leather straps to no avail.

“So, you’re drunk.” He repeats, reappearing in front of you. He sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, and hands you a pack of makeup wipes. “Do you need help with your shoes?”

You nod. A soft breath of laughter escapes him as he leans in to help you take them off, setting them on the carpeted floor.

“Spence,” you look at the pack of wipes. “Why do you have these?”

“Because every time you’re here you forget them,” he replies.

“Oh.” You rip them open. “You don’t have a secret girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies, lowering your foot back to the ground.

“You don't let other drunk girls sleep over?” You paw at your eyeliner, effectively smearing it around more than removing it.

“I don't let anyone sleep over,” he says, taking the wipe from you. “Just you. Close your eyes.”

“Because you love me?”

His fingers find the underside of your chin, gently tilting your face towards his so he can finish swiping away the last of your eyeliner. Maybe you’re blushing as a result of the alcohol warming your bloodstream, but the more likely answer is him, at this proximity.

As soon as he’s done wiping your eyes, you open them again to look up at him.

“You’re bold when you’re drunk,” he says, smiling. He sets the used wipe down on the table.

“Mhm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to,” He says. “Sorry. Go get changed.”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” you say. You collect the clothes off the couch and slink across the apartment into the bathroom to change. You don’t bother shutting the bathroom door before slinking off the dress you were wearing and sliding on the pajamas he’d left for you. Once you finish, you collect your dress off the floor and make your way back towards the couch, settling right into the cushions as you frequently did on nights like this.

You were formulating another complaint about his lack of reciprocation, but your thoughts were interrupted as he pulled the blanket on his couch over you. Your blanket, or at least one you’d claimed as your own during one of your nights spent here. He had already turned off the ceiling fan, which you’d always insisted off when you slept over. You followed him with your gaze as he turned the lights off, swapping them instead for a smaller, softer light somewhere in the kitchen, remembering the way you’d always insisted he leave a light on somewhere, just for you. Your phone was already charging on a side table, your heels sitting nicely by the door, your keys on his key holder, evidence of you, everywhere, details that were distinctly for your comfort. Maybe you had missed his signals.

“I think you do love me…”

He reappeared a moment later, crouching in front of you with that look. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Go to sleep.”

“And I love you. And I called you because I wanted to tell you that.”

“You really need to sleep it off. You’re saying things you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean it,” you whined. “I swear. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he laughed.

“But I will. I promise,” you replied. “No bedtime kiss?”

Of course, this time you did pick up the way he looked at you.

“No, honey. Maybe tomorrow.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #fluff #spencer reid fluff #my things!

2K notes · View notes

overnightheartbeats · 11 hours ago

Note

She felt her phone vibrate, and figured that Javi had replied to her or her friends were checking in. Both were items she'd tend to in a bit, since she had chosen to engage in conversation with Nate. "You?" She asked incredulously, only because last night, he sounded so nonchalant about the cleaning crew taking care of it. It also didn't make much sense, his mother would surely have a fit seeing him like this. Though, that was almost an amusing thought. "That is pretty great, I have to admit." Ivette was intrigued, there was no denying. So, she stood up from her seat and followed after him. "How's the cleaning going then? Earlier start than right now? So you're an early bird." It was not even seven yet, and he had already been gone when she awoke. "I slept pretty well," she couldn't help but be truthful. "The air was fine, I didn't even realize the air conditioning unit had to be switched. So, you're clean up crew, maintenance. Is there something you don't do around here?"

It was a start. They were not lifelong friends that she'd share every single thing with, but they were exchanging more than a few words. So, hopefully that was the start of a good thing. It just didn't help that everything she had been keeping at bay for so many years, begged to be released now. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your cleaning routine. Unless you wanted food?"

Ivette turned in the direction of the whistle to see the hand asking Nate for some instruction, and hearing him reply in Spanish, it made her heart skip several beats. Oh, he sounded amazing in spanish, it made her weaker than she wanted to show. "Hm, okay yes. Breakfast would be great, if you let me help. As long as you give me some guidance, admittedly my cooking skills are not all that great."

As they headed towards the kitchen, she took a seat at the kitchen table while Nate spoke to another person. It'd only be a few minutes. Ivette took her phone and saw the familiar notification, opening the email, eager for her friend's wisdom. Reading the name she chose to give when asking for advice way back when made her smile. It did kind of feel like her name now. Though, she did feel bad that she was not being completely truthful with him. It was ironic how she was honest with him with her most vulnerable parts, but not the simple things like her real name.

I did promise to write when I got a chance. I also just had forgotten how much quicker email is over handwritten letters. Though, those were fun. It's not that I regret it, I just know it's not going to help in the long run. Even more so when I know it's not going anywhere. What stopped me, good question. Remembering that he left me was a big one. I've tried moving past that, but it hurts still. Last time I told him that, he still left. I think I'm serious Javi, I have been holding on to this because I don't know, even now - I wish he had loved me enough. But, like we've said before, I can't change someone's mind. So I guess, it'll just be a while before I can rip off the bandaid. I'm here for a few weeks. It is terrifying! Even more terrifying, I'm trying to be friends instead. I'm just unbelievable. You always know the right thing to say, it's amazing (and very scary sometimes). Just wish i could do a bit more to give back some of the help you've given me. How are you doing? You're also still front of line for that elixir. Everything going okay in your world, or more love troubles plaguing you? Thanks, you're the best. You remind me to be productive, I should do that too. But, I might've become a big fan of mojitos last night. True that, a moment to myself might clear my head. It's either that, or running back home.

His phone chimed in his back pocket and that had him stop what he was doing to tend to it. A bench across he saw and sat on it. Putting his feet up to lean over the arm to respond. A small smile crossed his features as he saw the email from his pen pal. The person who had become a friend in the months they'd started talking. The first thing that had him intrigued was how similar they were to each other. How their lives seemed so similar. They found common ground and that was the start of their friendship.

As he read the email he sighed and somehow this read like his feelings had spilled onto the page. Writing back was easier than he thought.

hey marina! I didn't think I'd hear from you since you went back home. But I'm glad to see you back in my email notifications.

Mistakes aren't often mistakes like people think they are. Do you regret what happened yesterday? If you went back would you regret it? You're not giving yourself any credit there. What stopped you? Was it your fear of knowing what he'd think and not what your mind would conjure up? The way I see it is if you're serious about moving on and getting over him then you'll need to put yourself first and rip the bandaid off. I know it's scary and I wish I could tell you that elixir is ready because you know I'd be the first to take it. But, you're hurting yourself by not being honest. Don't do it for him but for you. You deserve a chance to move on from the pain.

Thanks, believe it or not going to try to be productive. I hope you have a good day despite having to see him around. Remember; you're not stuck there. If you need to take the moment for yourself and leave if it gets too hard.

With that he put his phone back in his pocket and got right on moving the trash bags out of the walkway. The task at hand had him so focused that he nearly missed Ivette's voice. Slowly turning his head, he chuckled and dropped the bags at his feet. "You'd think huh, but no. You're looking at it. Cleaning crew is me. I am the cleaning crew." he smiled as he picked up the bags again and gestured her to follow him if she wanted to keep talking. "Usually get an earlier start but we went to bed later. Which is okay, still getting it done. How did you sleep? Was the air okay in the room? I have yet to change the air conditioning in the room. Working my way toward it."

Being friends should be easy but he knew that everytime he'd look at her his heart would thump. "I know it's early but did you want food? I can make the kitchen my next stop?"

"Chavo," the hand whistled and asked him where he wanted the tables. Nate turned and laughed, "dejalo ahi. Dame dos horas y lo pongo atras." Nate looked back at Ivette and smiled. "Okay, hungry?"

#rancho nate hellooooo indeed!!!#sad crew we need to make t-shirts tambien #ivette aqui confessing to pen pal 🤭🤭

25 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 11 months ago

Text

How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ‘punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.

8K notes · View notes

akiranzee · 8 months ago

Note

IF U TAKE MUZAN REQUESTS CAN I PLS REQUEST LOVESICK HUSBAND MUZAN WITH HIS S/O PLEASSEE 😩😩

if u need more context then it’s still demon au and canon compliant but the only difference is that he’s Sooo soft around his wife. like absolute mush, worships her, says she’s his equal, blah blah. headcannons r fine!!!! whatever u wanna do w it, doesn’t matter if it’s demon or human reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ LOVESICK HUSBAND MUZAN WITH WIFE S/O!!

───────────── ♡ ─────────────

𖹭 it was love at first sight, no matter how many times he and you doubt it.

𖹭 his love language? physical touch ‘cause he’s so bad at words of affirmation. 𖹭 he’s still the same, evil man you met, the only difference is that he was never evil with you. no matter how many times his demons — especially douma tell you that he’s just putting up a loving facade to mingle with the human world. 𖹭 but douma is so wrong. dead wrong. if only you saw the look on his face when he heard muzan’s voice from your shared room, “darling, don’t believe what that demon says, okay? he’s nothing but a lowly scowl, he doesn’t even equal up to you — hell, maybe you even equal with me.” 𖹭 a lovesick fool. douma concludes. because, 𖹭 one, he follows you everywhere, touches every part of your body, but he touches your stomach most, saying he’s gonna put his heir in their one day. 𖹭 two, he listens to every word you say, like that one moment where muzan was about to flick douma’s head off for the ninety-forth time, you stepped in bravely and told him he was too harsh with douma, so as for douma’s next punishment, he just flicked off half his head. 𖹭 three, last but not the least, muzan hates it so much when you spend time with his male demons, or just ordinary male humans. despite you reassuring him literally almost every night, his jealousy would still bubble up and get all protective over you, sending death glares all over to the poor male. 𖹭 yes. that’s how much power you hold over the most powerful demon in existence. 𖹭 it doesn’t even end there, he’s gotten even more handsy on you when you undergo fever three consecutive times, trying to persuade you in becoming a demon so that you don’t have to suffer, but of course, you reject. 𖹭 in your first fever, he was just a little bit calm on it, just constantly checking you from time to time, making sure you eat all your meals and herbs/medicines, and leaves you when you’re asleep. 𖹭 but, poor man got confused when just a day you’ve gotten better, you got fever again the day after, so he’s by your side for the next three days taking care of you, observing you. 𖹭 then, at the third time, he finally panics, sending all his demons, also akaza who’s on a ‘special mission’ to look for the blue spider lily, to gather all the best herbs and best doctors all around town. this is where he also just acts like your shadow. you wanna go to the bathroom? he’ll assist you alright. you’re smelling and sweaty? he doesn’t care and changes you gently (he’s trying). you don’t like the food or herbs or medicines? he’ll nastily put it in his mouth and kisses you as he makes sure the food or herbs goes down your throat. 𖹭 yes. that’s how unexpected this man could be. 𖹭 and yes, this is you having him wrapped around your fingers.

───────────── ☆ ─────────────

a/n: help this is soo bad i just can’t imagine a lovesick muzan😭😭 that’d be the end of the world alright.

#📂 — ` akira’s works!#fluff #demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #muzan kibutsuji #kibutsuji muzan #demon slayer muzan #muzan demon slayer #muzan kny #kny muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #demon slayer muzan kibutsuji #muzan x you #muzan x y/n #muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji x reader

3K notes · View notes

allertonhoe · 1 month ago

Text

duking it out - rafe cameron (18+)

summary: when you almost get robbed after a night out, your best friend insists you learn some self-defence from her older brother, who happens to own a gym. you also can't stand each other, but what happens when the two of you are left to your own devices.

content warnings: original afab!reader, obx!universe, enemies to lovers, best friends brother, boxer!rafe, use of petnames (princess, baby), 18+ MDNI - smut, dom!rafe, dirty talk, fingering, spanking, unprotected p in v, minor use of restraint, mirror sex, reader hurts herself/blood tw, mentions of getting robbed/jumped (not by rafe lol), mentions of guns/pepper spray, angsty af

length: 4.2k words

"Will you at least promise me you'll consider it?"

"Sarah, no. I'm not-"

"You almost got mugged. It would give me some peace of mind." she disputes once again, looking at you wearily.

She wasn't exactly wrong. It was a few weeks back while you were walking through Figure 8 on your way home from another wild kegger on the beach. And in the early hours of the morning, the sun having barely risen, some masked Pogue took the opportunity to ambush you.

Luckily, you carried pepper spray on you for this specific reason, blasting it in the culprit's face and sprinting back to your place as fast as you could. But according to your best friend, you should be a bit more prepared if you ever ended up in worse circumstances, god forbid.

"Rafe!" she calls through the house, marching towards the kitchen without even checking to see if you were following. "Can you help me out with this?"

"What are you talking about?" he quizzes, scrunching his face in confusion.

"She doesn't think she needs to learn any self-defense." Sarah clarifies, earning a judgmental scoff from the older boy.

"That's fucking stupid." he corroborates, causing you to glare at him.

"Don't call me stupid." you pout, wishing your well-meaning best friend hadn't dragged her overbearing brother into another one of your predicaments.

Saying you and Rafe didn't get along was an understatement. You couldn't stand him. He was arrogant, and rude, and just completely unbearable. You didn't know how someone as kind and bubbly as Sarah was related to such a nightmare. And along with his dreadful personality, he had a bit of a bad reputation around the island.

Rumours swirled about how he'd been involved in shady business deals or that he was entangled with one of the island's most infamous and menacing gangs. Having gotten into his fair share of fights in high school, which led you back to why you were having this conversation in the first place.

"What? Would you rather I lied?" he taunts, unscrewing the cap of whatever sports drink he was holding and taking a sip.

"Enough." Sarah referees. "Besides, you told me you'd help."

"That was before I knew who it was." he antagonizes, not even sparing you a glance.

"Yeah. As much as I'd love an excuse to punch Rafe, I'll have to pass." you acknowledge in a rare moment of compromise.

"Didn't know you liked it rough," he insinuates, rolling your eyes at the innuendo.

"Please." Sarah turns back to you in a pleading manner. "Just some basic stuff. I just want to make sure you don't find yourself in a vulnerable situation again. I hate to agree with him, but it is stupid to turn down learning from, like, one of the best trainers on the island."

Rafe decided after high school that he'd channel his fury and aggressive energy into something more productive, opening his gym up a few years back. And unfortunately, you knew she was probably right. The boxing studio having become one of the hottest spots to work out in Figure 8.

"Don't look so excited, princess. A lot of girls would be jumping at the chance to get free coaching from me." he quips.

"You're not gonna drop this?" you purse your lips at Sarah, her agitation not easing at all. "Fine. Whatever."

"No, if we're doing this, we're doing it my way. My gym." Rafe interjects. "You're gonna be there tomorrow morning at 8. You're gonna come, you're gonna listen to what I tell you, and you're not gonna act like a brat because I'm doing this as a favor for Sarah. Got it?"

With a hesitant nod, the session was set for the next day to your contempt. You were met by the sound of grunts and rustling chains when you entered the facility, finding Rafe at the far side of the room battering a punching bag. Too focused to realize you'd walked in, giving you the opportunity to get a proper look at him.

He wore a fitted white tank and basketball shorts, his sun-kissed skin coated in a thin layer of sweat. His toned arms on full display for you to admire as they tensed every time he hit the cushioned equipment. His signature grimace settled on his features as he beat the hung-up gear like it was personal.

"Fuck," he curses, alarmed once he detected your presence. "Sorry. Have you been here long?" He shrugs off, going for a swig of water.

"Just a minute," you reveal, stepping further into the building, almost feeling as though you weren't supposed to be there.

"Is, uh, that what you're wearing, or were you gonna change?" he surveys, taking in the tight leggings and crop top that clung to you. You shook your head at his question, neither of you knowing how to proceed cordially.

"You don't have to do this, by the way," you mention, giving him one last out.

"Huh?"

"I get you're doing this for Sarah. I can tell her you did if you'd just rather I go..." you offer.

"What? Already trying to run?" he solicits, the typical friction between you arising once again. "I don't mind," he reinforces, relieving some of your apprehension.

He advised that you stretch a bit first, reluctantly following his lead as he got into what you were sure was his standard routine, somewhat hopeless yourself when it came to working out. An R&B track playing lightly over the speakers, filling the uncomfortable quiet that hung between you two.

You found yourself fixed on Rafe longer than usual, blaming it on the fact that you were trying to mimic his agile movements. There was no denying he was attractive, another trait you found particularly irritating, but seeing him in his element gave you a whole new perspective. He looked incredibly chiseled, a stark contrast to the usual sight of him in shirts that hid his arms, noticing how swole his biceps were with every flex of his.

Once you were finished warming up, he led you towards the practice ring that sat at the back of the gym. Tossing you a pair of boxing gloves and discarding his tank to the side prior to ushering you onto the canvas. Circling the perimeter like he was a shark targeting his prey.

"Are you gonna walk around and stare at me all day, or actually teach me something useful?" you sassed, making him to stop in his tracks with a hardened expression. "I don't have all day, Rafe."

"What happened again?"

"I was, uh, walking home from that party on the beach a few weeks back, and some kid jumped out at me on my way home and tried taking my shit." you recount, Rafe frowning at the story.

"Have you ever learned any self-defense?" he inquires.

"Yeah, I pepper sprayed him and ran the fuck home." you explain, making him snicker.

"And when you don't have that on you?"

"I don't know. My keys? A gun?"

"A gun?" he remarks, amused by your answer.

"Yeah. I could get one of those small ones."

"Sounds like a solid plan, princess."

"I swear, if you're just gonna piss me off-"

"I told you when we agreed to this you can't stand around and bitch at me the entire time." he recalls, not appearing too impressed.

"Then teach me something."

"Fine, let's work on your reaction time."

"My reaction time is fine. I did fight him off." you refute, tired of the constant belittling.

"And how big was this guy? Was he 6'5 and huge, or some shrimpy Pogue that wasn't much taller than you?" he challenges, startled at how accurate the latter description was of your attacker. "You might not get that lucky next time around."

You let him take over from there, watching as he continued walking around the platform menacingly, almost sizing you up in a way. Like you were playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Like there was a hint of something almost suggestive hanging in the air between you.

In any other scenario, you probably would've laughed at how he was stalking towards you. Abruptly diving out to snatch you from the side, making you whip around and instinctively throwing your hands in front of you. Not giving him a chance to grab you properly. Seeming satisfied with your efforts, he stepped back to the edge of the ring to launch into the next drill.

It all happened so fast. He rushed towards you from behind, your initial impulse being to turn and lunge the other way, not realizing your shoelace had untied. You were in the air for a few seconds, tripping face-first into the mats. An ache immediately rising as you peeled yourself off the floor, almost missing how Rafe was at your side without delay, concern etched on his features.

"Shit."

He scanned you for injuries, quick to fuss over your condition while you were just trying to adjust to his sudden worry towards you. As you caught your breath, it hitched again when he reached out and held your cheek. Growing nervous when you saw his focus drift to your mouth.

"You're bleeding..." he notes, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip. "Don't move."

He dashed over to snag the first-aid kit and hurried back over, chucking it on the ground beside you. Taking your wrists and unfastening the padded protection covering your fists, doing the same with the other. He searched through the small bag, ripping open an antiseptic wipe as he assessed the wound.

"Sit down." he requested, complying to his instruction since you didn't want to cause any more unnecessary chaos. "Does it hurt?"

"Uh, no..." you trail off.

"This might sting..." he tells you as he brought the damp cloth to the cut, instantly hissing at the tender sensation despite his warning. "Sorry," he murmurs remorsefully.

"Don't apologize. It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't. You tripped." he reassures dismissively, letting the conversation die rather than feud over it.

The dynamic between you and Rafe was contentious, the two of you always bickering and getting under each other's skin. However, that wasn't the energy you were feeling right now. If anything, it felt a bit charged. Not missing the way his devious smirk reemerged on his lips as he cleaned the gash, the prolonged silence only making you more uneasy.

"What?"

"Only you would manage to get hurt when I'm trying to teach you how to protect yourself." he patronizes, snickering to himself.

You tore yourself out of his grasp, touching the bloody spot and deciding you'd just handle it yourself in the bathroom. Not in the mood to deal with whatever mind games he was playing at. His reflexes were still quicker than yours as he blocked you from getting up.

"Stop being difficult and just let me," he asserts. Not anticipating for him to take your chin to halt your tantrum, his face just a few inches from yours. "Please."

His glance flickered between your eyes and mouth, noting a shift in his expression—one you'd never seen before. Keeping your own on anything but him, no longer able to trust yourself to not do something you know you'll regret. Finding yourself softening under his wary gaze, against your better judgment.

"Why are you helping me?" you finally decide to ask him, the question coming out almost sheepishly.

"Seriously?" he replies, almost seeming offended. "Other than the fact that I was genuinely trying to do you a favour and show you how to defend yourself, and you ended up with a busted lip instead? Maybe I'm just not as much of an asshole as you'd like to believe."

"Wow, and they say chivalry is dead." you feign, falling back into your usual banter.

"Would it really kill you to just be nice to me for a few minutes?" he comments sarcastically, not giving you much room to argue.

"Thanks, I guess." you concede, his signature grin reappearing.

"Sorry, I missed that." he exaggerates, turning his ear towards you to repeat yourself.

"You're such a pain in the ass." you grumble, crossing your arms. "Thank you."

He finished treating the wound, squeezing out some healing cream onto his finger and brushing it across the sensitive area. Your lips parting at the intimate gesture, your eyelids fluttering shut. Keeping them closed to avoid facing the bitter truth that you didn't totally hate being in this compromising position with Rafe.

"At least now you got some battle scars, so no more thugs will mess with you." he declares.

"You can't help yourself." you scold.

"What? I'm just fucking around." he averts, thrown off by your change in demeanor.

"That's the thing with you, Rafe. Do you take anything seriously?" you proclaim, jumping back to your feet and fiddling to shove the gloves back on.

"Yes?"

"You're stubborn and aggravating, and always fuckingaround. You definitely don't take me seriously-"

"What are you even talking about?"

"That's the whole reason I'm here, right? Another free pass so you can give me shit?" you blindly accuse, temper flaring.

"Fuck, do you ever shut up?" he seethes in frustration, caging you in against the ropes as he towered over your figure.

"Move," you demand, nudging the barrier he'd created around you.

"Calm down," he urges you, as if his domineering stance wasn't partially to blame for your distress.

"Rafe," you huff, trying to escape his scrutiny when he suddenly placed his hands on your shoulders and pinned you back.

"I said calm down." he reiterates.

His piercing glare acted like another physical restraint, simultaneously making you confront the conflicting desires you'd suppressed towards him for years. It was just the easier choice—not wanting to involve yourself with someone so unpredictable or cross the boundary that was your best friend's older brother.

"Why don't you think I take you seriously?" he investigates, surprised that was what he'd hung onto from your rant.

"Are you kidding me right now?" you counter. "You've never been nice to me since I became friends with Sarah."

"Only because you're a fucking know-it-all," he contends, recognizing the teasing in his voice. "Do you think I'd do this for any of the other clowns Sarah hangs around?"

You didn't know what to say to that, trying not to focus on certain details throughout the years. How he'd always been more impartial to you compared to the rest of the group you were usually with. Assuming the pleasantries he'd occasionally throw your way were just another attempt to get on your nerves.

"You make it so easy to rile you up, princess." he remarks, taking the large gloves that were acting like a barrier between you and slipping them off your hands. "And don't try to tell me you don't like it either."

"I... I don't." you falter.

He took your chin and turned you back towards him, but this time there was no reason for it—caressing your jaw and studying you like some priceless piece of art. It was unsettling, the speed at which he was able to switch from tough and threatening to gentle and vigilant. Knowing you'd never seen this side of him in all the years you'd known his sister.

"Try again." he mutters, not letting you get away so fast.

"I don't, Rafe." you insist, trying to keep your tone steady but still lacking conviction—just enough to give you away.

"Then why haven't you pushed me off yet?" he boasts.

"I-" you stutter, considering your next words carefully. "You still haven't taught me shit." you maintain, knowing your response was weak as it came out.

"What's got you so quiet, hm?" he interrogates, basking in your discomfort.

"You're insufferable, do you know that?"

"Maybe. But you still haven't moved."

That's when his lips grazed yours delicately, almost questioning if it was a hallucination. Only knowing it wasn't because of the dull ache from his direct contact on your fresh injury. His icy blue eyes meeting yours in challenge, as if he was daring you to take the inevitable next step. As if he was waiting for your permission.

It felt like you were hit by a tidal wave when you finally kissed him, the faint taste of blood reaching your senses but you were so absorbed by him to even care. Rafe using his tongue to soothe the ripped flesh as he slipped it into your mouth. All of your resistance towards him being disarmed as he kissed you like he'd been wanting to forever.

One of his hands snaked to the bottom of your scalp, threading through your hair; the other sliding to your lower back and pulling you against him. Cradling you to his large physique like he didn't want to let you stray too far, not that you wanted to. While his actions were just as meticulous as his teaching style had been earlier, his execution was still raw and impassioned.

"Are you gonna keep being difficult? Or are you gonna listen to me like a good girl?" he grills hoarsely.

"Are you gonna make it worth my while?" you retort smartly, not wanting to fully surrender control.

He just chuckled as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, the sound making your stomach twist, something you weren't used to feeling in his presence. Extending your nape as he placed a sloppy peck on your skin, lingering to make sure he'd left a mark. The disdain you'd always held towards him now somehow coming off as charming.

"Relax," he cooed, squeezing your waist before yanking your top off.

He discarded the shirt elsewhere, kissing down your torso and along the waistband of your spandex. Hooking his thumbs into the stretchy fabric, peering up at you as he licked his lips, your heart racing in anticipation. Leaving you exposed and disheveled in the middle of the gym, resting on the ropes to find some sort of stability.

"Shit... Can't believe I've kept my hands to myself this long around you," he mused, skimming through your wetness.

"Please Rafe." you whisper, as if the hushed volume of your voice somehow made it all seem less legitimate.

"Can't hear you, princess." he goads, not tearing his gaze from you. You didn't want to give in to his endless provoking, but it was as if he was coaxing it right out of you.

"Rafe, please." you echo, anguish evident from your tone.

"That's it, baby..." he praises, letting two of his digits slip inside you without any warning. "You always this wet around me?"

You instantly melted into his touch, like you were a puppet and he knew the exact strings he needed to pull. Rafe taking advantage of your disoriented state and kissing you again fiercely, the hostility that had built over the years boiling over and getting channeled into your embrace. Grabbing your thigh and hooking it around his waist to give himself better access to you, bringing you into a deeper lust.

He added another finger, immediately giving away that your climax was close as you clenched around him. And then right when your pleasure was about to hit, he withdrew them. A choked whine leaving your throat as he brought them up to his mouth, not daring to tear his attention from you.

"What the fuck?" you protest breathlessly.

Without a word, he took your extended leg, scooping you up with ease and wrapping you around his frame. Bringing you to the middle of the ring and laying you on the ground, looming over you again as he stripped off his pants. Straddling your bottom half, leaving you dumbfounded by how big he was as he pumped himself a few times.

"Told you if you came here, we do this my way. Arms up," he instructs.

As you stretched them over your head, Rafe took both your wrists and held you down. Your heart racing when you realized what he was doing, squirming as you felt him drag himself between your puffy folds. Rocking against him to create any extra friction as he continued to tease you as much as he could, surely revenge for your coldness towards him over the years.

"What's wrong, baby?" he mocks. "Tell me what you want."

"Need you..." you divulge, being met with Rafe's condescending laugh at your pathetic plea.

"You've made that pretty obvious, but that's not gonna be enough right now." he specifies, knowing what he ultimately wanted to hear and too far gone to keep denying yourself of him.

"Please, Rafe. Need you to fuck me." you confess, shuddering when you felt his fat tip circle your core.

"You had a change of heart or something? Not used to you being so nice to me," he revels smugly. "But since you asked so nicely."

You gasped as he slowly buried himself into you, fluttering around him as soon as he sunk into you. Keeping his motions steady and unhurried on purpose, clearly holding back from outwardly demolishing you right away.

You were already close to your high from his initial build-up, falling back into your bliss as he picked up a consistent flow, trembling as he started playing with your swollen clit. The hand he'd bounded you with loosening the more he lost himself in the essence of you.

"Is that why you've always been such a brat? Wanted me to do something about it? Shut you up myself?" he spits.

You clutched his face as his lips found yours again, unable to conceal how enamored you'd become by him. Losing your composure as his hips snapped into you, gawking at how his cock disappeared with every plunge into you. His athletic figure overtaking you without difficulty, looking like he was some Adonis.

"Rafe, I-" you plead, too consumed to even tell him you were reaching your peak, not that he didn't pick up on it.

"Let it out," he grunts, his rhythm unrelentless.

Shockwaves surged through your system as you let out a loud cry, drenching him with your arousal. Rafe pecking across your collarbones and up your neck until he was back at your lips, swallowing every noise you made. The action much more tender than he'd been up until then.

"Turn over," he barks, barely straying from the kiss.

"W-what?" you stammer, still recovering from the first orgasm.

"You heard me. I'm not done with you yet." he reprimands, straightening his posture. "On your knees."

He nodded forward to emphasize his command, eagerly awaiting what he'd do next. Moaning when he pawed at your backside and yanked you closer, not refraining as his palm glided across the flesh. Only noticing that you were facing the row of mirrors that covered one of the walls as you peered up.

He started hammering into you from behind, his technique now rougher from his new angle. You soaked in his reflection, observing how his torso flexed with every thrust, only becoming more turned on by the lewd scene unfolding in the mirror. Drunk off the sensation of Rafe, already knowing this wouldn't be a one-time thing.

"I think I prefer you this way, princess." he purrs into your ear, smacking your ass one more time. "Too fucked out to open that big mouth of yours."

His movements got hastier, but he still managed to pound at angles he hadn't from your previous position. Gripping your waist roughly as he slammed into you, effortlessly hitting your g-spot with every grind of his hips. In disbelief that the man that was fucking you into oblivion was the same guy that you'd written off for so long.

"You gonna cum for me again?" he gloats, lowering his face to hover beside yours.

"Please, Rafe..." you beg, holding his piercing gaze in the mirror, his warmth radiating onto you.

"Who knew you were so damn polite?" he snides, striking your rear one last time. "Gonna let me ruin that pretty pussy?" he growls, mewling desperately at his filthy declaration.

With a few more pumps, he filled you with his own release, not stopping until he was fully satisfied. Coming undone again yourself as he pushed you back over your edge, the only sound filling the silent gym being heavy panting. Your head dropping in front of you as you caught your breath, whimpering when you felt him pull out.

Reality hit you like a ton of bricks as you finally registered what had just happened. Still clouded in your daze as he left featherlight pecks up your spine, doing your best to ignore the sweet gesture. Unsure how to even go forward, regret swiftly replacing your once insatiable hunger, blaming the moment on pure weakness.

"Hey," you hear Rafe utter, meeting his eyes through the reflection. "I can already see those cogs turning, baby..."

"I just..." you hesitate, trying to find the right thing to say when you'd barely processed what was going on.

"You just what, hm?" he drawls, turning your head towards him as he captured your lips with his.

"You're fucking trouble, Cameron." you mumble, giggling softly at the sudden turn of circumstances.

"What? You didn't enjoy your workout?" He implies shamelessly. "Don't act like you weren't into it. And don't think I'm letting you get away so easily either." He playfully accosts you, toppling onto his back and making you squeal as he pulled you back on top of him, passionately kissing you again.

note: suuper long, suuuper dirty 🤭 i wish i was exaggerating when i say ive been editing this for like a month omfg sos my brain is actually rotted lmao. hope you guys like it!! i'm trying to actually write more since i've been making a lot of short-form content sooo please be kind bc i'm still trying to find my bearings again lolol🙈

#also isn’t this the fucking cutest divider omg !!!#divider by thecutestgrotto #rafe cameron #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfic #obx rafe cameron #outer banks fanfic #obx smut #obx fanfic #rc

1K notes · View notes

mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 1 month ago

Text

"You're gonna go far"

okay yall this is chapter one! if it sucks or doesn't make sense pls don't hate. might take it down later if i decide i hate it. likes, comments, and reblogs encourage me!!!I brainstormed this pretty fast so it might be messy.

lmk if there's any plot holes! This is the week following the failed patrol and Tiffany taking reader's credit. About 6 to 7 months after Tiffany moved in.

The first day after the incident, you had stayed in your room, nursing the bitter sting of betrayal. You couldn’t even remember the last time they’d acknowledged your existence. Tiffany, of course, was the shining star of the household. While you were holed up in your bedroom, processing the snakebite that had changed everything, Tiffany was out there, winning their favor with her charm, her sweet smiles, and her sugar-coated lies. You spent all night aching and feeling your bones shattering in your skin, feeling your skin peel off, and your teeth sharpen and make your mouth bleed.

The day started with her knocking on your door, her voice dripping with fake concern.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “I heard what happened last night... but don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just walk it off, right? Just a snake bite! You weren't even supposed to be on patrol, Dad said that you can't be part of the team. You're not skilled enough.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. How could you? It wasn’t a matter of walking it off. The venom inside you had begun to manifest, the snake-like power curling through your veins, but Tiffany's words twisted the knife further. You could see the smug look in her eyes as she added, “It’s okay. I’m here now. I know you’re upset, but let’s just move past it. You need some tough love”

You didn’t know what to expect when the transformation took hold that night. One minute, you were trying to cry yourself to sleep the next—your skin tingled, muscles shifting, twisting beneath the surface. The bite on your neck from the damn snake burned like fire, but something deeper, something inside you, urged you to embrace it. Again you felt your mouth burn, your body tingle, your skin shed and a searing pain from the waist down.

As you lay flat against the wall, your hands pressed against the cool surface you couldn’t help but grin, pain was better than numbness. You weren’t just Bruce Wayne's outcast daughter, nor were you the wannabe batgirl, as Stephanie liked to call you, you were something else now, something powerful.

The first time you ejected venom from your fingertips, you almost dropped your phone in surprise. It was cold, sharp, and terrifying in its power. It didn’t make sense. You could feel the agility coursing through you, every muscle in your body aligning with the new capabilities as if your very bones were made for this transformation. This wasn’t you anymore.

The idea of getting even, of showing them all that you weren’t weak or invisible, had always been a fantasy. But now, it didn’t feel like a fantasy. It felt real, solid in a way that left you trembling. You weren’t just going to prove them wrong. You were going to become something they could never ignore again. And they would never see it coming.

But what now? The Batfamily—Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, all of them—had given you nothing but pain and neglect for years. They didn’t understand you, didn’t care to. They couldn’t see past their perfect image of family long enough to see you. Now, with this power, you didn’t need them. You never did.

Except… there was Tiffany.

She was their new perfect darling, their shining star. Every time she took a step into their world, they’d fawn over her, ruffle her hair, praise her as though she could do no wrong. You had tried to be perfect for them, but perfection never got you what you wanted. It never got you love. It never got you acceptance.

She was a liar, a fraud, and she’d ruined your life. You'd tried to warn them, tried to tell them what she really was—what she was doing behind their backs. But they chose to believe her over you. They always did.

So it was time for them to learn. To know what you were capable of.

You wouldn’t hurt them but you would make them understand. You would show them your worth, show them what they had turned their backs on. No more hiding. No more being invisible. You’d be the storm they couldn’t control, the one they couldn’t ignore.

One by one, you would take back everything that was stolen from you.

The next day Bruce didn’t even acknowledge you when he passed you in the hallway. You wanted to tell him about the snake, about the strange scary things going on in your body, of the violent thoughts running through your mind but the words died in your throat in fear of ridicule. You stood there, heart racing, desperately hoping he’d say something, anything, just a hint of recognition. But he didn’t. Tiffany was at his side, her arm linked through his as they strolled past you. She was chattering on about some trivial matter, and you could feel the coldness in Bruce's demeanor. No eye contact. No words. Nothing.

It was as if you weren’t there. It hurt, more than you could have imagined. And yet it wasn't anything new.

Alfred, the one person who might’ve shown you compassion, didn’t even make you breakfast. You waited in the kitchen, hoping for something—anything. But no, Tiffany had already filled the void with her charming demeanor, sitting at the table with Alfred, chatting about some charity event.

You stood there, waiting. Watching. Silent.

Eventually, you turned and left. Alfred hadn't even looked up when you walked out.

Damian.

Your little brother who you tried so hard to bond withhad taken to sneering at you when you crossed paths with more anomosity than usual. His usual arrogance and distaste for you had only intensified. You had caught him once, whispering something to Tiffany about how "pathetic" you were. “Father’s blood runs through me, not through you,” he had muttered under his breath. You had to fight the overwhelming urge to break down right then and there. The venom inside you seemed to thrum in response, as if it recognized the cruel words, feeding off them.

Later, you overheard him tell Tiffany, “You’re far more worthy of being in this family than she’ll ever be.”

Jason, who you once thought of as a brother, the only one who could’ve understood you, had turned his back completely. You had tried to reach out to him and tell him of the pains at night, to apologize for whatever wrongs you’d committed, but all he did was glare at you. A snide comment about how “you wouldn’t know what it means to feel pain” and then he walked away, his back to you as he followed Tiffany down the stairs.

Your heart shattered.

Tim was... absent, but his absence was worse than anything. He made no effort to reach out, barely acknowledging you when you passed by. When you tried to speak with him, to ask how his day had gone, he merely gave you a dismissive shrug and muttered something about needing to “work.” Tiffany, on the other hand, always had time for him. She seemed to be everything you were not—everything they wanted. She was their perfect daughter, their perfect sibling. She was the one who belonged.

You tried to slip into the shadows, but the truth was, you felt like you were already invisible.

You and Duke used to be friends when he first came, till he realized Stephanie was much cooler than you. Maybe you could hang with them in the cave, maybe they could help figure out what was happening to you. Maybe even talk to Barbra and Cassandra!

The Batcave was eerily quiet when you worked up the nerve to enter. You were sitting at a workstation, trying to work up the courage to talk to any of your siblings but your thoughts kept drifting. Tiffany had completely woven herself into the fabric of the team, and everyone else, even Duke, seemed content to ignore you.

You and Duke had once been close. He’d been one of the few people who had ever tried to make you feel like you belonged in the manor. You remembered the late-night conversations, sharing stories and laughter, plotting out plans for how you could prove your worth to the family. But now, every time you glanced in his direction, there was nothing but distance and confusion.

you could feel his presence across the room. He and Tiffany were standing by one of the equipment stations, speaking in hushed tones. You tried to ignore them. It hurt too much to look at Duke, to see how easily he had fallen under Tiffany's spell, how effortless it was for him to ignore you now.

Tiffany was front and center, as usual. Her presence always seemed to command attention, like a star that everyone gravitated toward. You had grown used to the way they all fawned over her, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“Duke, you’re up next,” Tiffany called out, a smile playing at her lips. Her voice was sweet, but you could hear the subtle edge beneath it. A tone that made your blood boil. She wasn’t just charming them, she was playing them.

“You know, I’d never say no to a challenge, Tiff.” he said, his voice almost affectionate.

“You’re the best, Duke,” Tiffany purred, clearly pleased.

You glanced at Barbara, hoping for something—a glance, a small acknowledgment—but her eyes were glued to her computer screen. She might as well have been miles away.

Cassandra, as usual, was focused on her training. She hadn’t ever shown interest in you, and today was no different. Her sharp gaze didn’t waver from the sparring targets she was working through, ignoring you entirely.

You sighed, not wanting to add to the already uncomfortable tension in the air. The weight of it was overwhelming. But you couldn’t help but overhear the rest of Duke and Tiffany’s conversation.

“I’m telling you, Duke,” Tiffany was saying with a laugh, “you’ve got this in the bag. You’ve been training for years, they’re never going to see it coming.”

Duke chuckled, clearly reveling in her praise. “Yeah, but I’m still not sure I trust the plan,” he said, glancing at the others. “You really think it’ll work?”

Tiffany’s smile was cold and calculating. “Trust me, it will. I’ve been working on it for weeks, and with your skills, we’ll have it done in no time. Just follow my lead.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from speaking up, even if you weren’t sure why you were still trying. You knew they didn’t care, but some part of you still clung to hope that maybe, just maybe, they’d listen. You and Duke were friends, he wouldn't ignore you. You didn't want Tiffany to pressure him into a plan he wasn't sure of.

“Tiffany, why don’t you give Duke some space?” you asked, trying to sound casual. “He might want to work out his own plan, you know?”

The moment the words left your mouth, Duke’s expression darkened, and so did everyone else's. Even Barbra glanced at you.

“Oh, you’re still here?” Tiffany asked, her tone laced with mock sweetness. “I didn’t realize you had any input. I guess it’s cute that you think Duke needs your help.”

Duke’s eyes narrowed. “I’m good, [Y/N]. Really. Tiffany’s got this. Don’t you have some... other place to be?”

Your mouth burned and your bones ached, since when did Duke treat you like this? What right did he have? You were friends, friends aren't mean to friends.

Your fists clench, "Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?" You spit out, unusually angry and brave.

His eyes softened for a second but then Duke looked up at you, his gaze colder than you remembered. “It’s not personal, okay? It’s just… you don’t really fit in with the rest of us."

The words felt like a slap in the face. Tiffany was the one with the skills. Tiffany was the one who was flawless. Tiffany was the one who didn’t need to try. Tiffany fit in.

You wanted to scream, to demand an explanation for why you were being discarded like this. You tried, but the words caught in your throat, leaving you silent. Duke wasn’t the person you had once leaned on. He wasn't your friend anymore. you could feel the deep divide between you both now, a gap named betrayal.

Before you could respond, Stephanie, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward. “Come on, (Y/N), don’t waste our time. If you don’t have anything useful to add, just leave. You’ll be better off on your own.”

Your eyes snapped to her. Of all people, you didn’t expect Stephanie to be so blunt. But here she was, her arms crossed and her eyes not even looking in your direction as she spoke.

Tiffany shot Stephanie a glance of approval. “Exactly, Steph. They’ll just slow us down. Maybe you should go back to the kitchen and bake something.”

The words were meant to belittle you, to remind you of the one thing they knew you were good at, baking, and nothing more. You felt your fists clench, the sting of her words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit.

Duke’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, but he didn’t say anything. His silence spoke volumes. You could feel the finality of it, the way the space between you both had grown too big to bridge.

“You don’t have to listen to them,” Tiffany continued, her voice smooth, "You’re not part of the team. Just let it go. It’s better for everyone.”

Tiffany’s manipulation was sickening. But what hurt the most was that Duke was going along with it. He had always been the one person who had made you feel like you mattered in this cold, detached family. And now? He was treating you like you were nothing. He had chosen her over you. The reality of it hit you like a t train.

“Fine,” you muttered, swallowing the lump in your throat, ignoring the burning of your eyes and the hole in your chest.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out of the Batcave, the cold stares of Tiffany, Duke, Stephanie and Cassandra burning into your back. no matter how hard you had tried, how many times you had bent over backwards to prove your worth, it would never be enough for them.

The final blow came that night on the 7th night after the incident and the day after Duke's betrayal.

Tiffany had won. You could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. She won their trust, their love. Now, she was going to make sure you were out of the picture for good.

You overheard Bruce and Tiffany speaking in his study, a room you were never allowed to enter.

“I think it’s for the best,” Tiffany said, her voice sweet, almost too sweet. “She’s so... incompetent. Maybe a change of scenery will help her grow.”

“Maybe,” Bruce replied, his voice cold, indifferent. “But it’ll also keep her away from Gotham for a while. From the family.”

“It’ll be better for everyone,” Tiffany continued. “She’s been so distant lately, and honestly, I don’t think she fits in here. She doesn’t belong.”

“I’ll have Alfred make the arrangements tomorrow,” Bruce said, his tone final. “It’ll be good for her. A change of pace. A chance to learn discipline.”

And just like that, your life as you knew it ended.

You would be sent away to a boarding school in New York City. They didn’t even give you the courtesy of telling you themselves. Tiffany had already manipulated the situation, convinced them that it was for the best. That you didn’t belong. That you needed to be removed from the family.

Later That Night

You sat in your room, fists clenched, eyes burning with tears you refused to shed. You could hear Tiffany’s laughter echoing in the halls as she paraded through the manor, a crown on her head that wasn’t hers.

You weren’t going to cry. Not anymore. You weren’t going to beg for their attention. For their love. No. You had something far more dangerous now. Something that didn’t need them. Something that would show them all just how wrong they were. The venom in your veins burned brighter now. You could feel it coiling around your bones like a living, breathing thing. You would prove them all wrong. You would go to New York and never look back.

Ok I tried my best guys be nice! I just had so many ideas and didn't know how to execute them! Send in asks! I wanted to get the plot moving tbh

1K notes · View notes

natlovesls2 · 3 months ago

Text

Never Really Over

Lando Norris x Sainz! Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: 18+ MDNI, one bed trope/ forced proximity but barely, slight fake dating, alcohol mentioned/ used, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, small amounts of angst, minimal swearing, talks of marriage and children, please let me know if I missed any

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 3.8k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You and Lando had broken up though decided it was best that no one knew. Max and Kelly's wedding forces you to come together, making it hard to disguise your true feelings. What can possibly go wrong?

.ೃ࿐request: found here

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

It was difficult being an open book while simultaneously attempting to hide your break up from not only your brother, but anyone who had been invested in seeing the relationship prosper. More often than not you found yourself having to make up answers to questions pertaining to the subject or switch the topic all together. And even if the news of the breakup did somehow come out, you weren’t sure how you’d explain the situation that led to it. The memories of that night were hazy to say the least.

You could faintly remember the fuzzy feeling of alcohol and the buzz of music around you that night. There was no doubt that you had been out at some party or club, as you often found yourself at one. Though everything beyond that felt like a badly painted watercolor portrait; the colors, or events in this case, bleeding together into a cruel image of that night.

“What are you saying?” he asked, voice cracking as he searched your face for an answer. The words coming from your mouth slurred but determined.

“I’m not an idiot, Lando. What else would you be doing when you go out to celebrate your wins for races I didn't attend?”

“You think I’m cheating on you? This is what this whole thing is about?” his voice raised with slight anger.

“Yeah,” you raised your voice back at him. You wanted to blame the sudden burst of jealousy completely on the alcohol, but you knew that would be a lie, there had always been an insecure pit in your stomach that had only been growing since you began dating. “You’re an attractive, famous athlete. It would be weird if you weren’t.”

“What's the point of being in a relationship if you can’t trust me?”

“The door is wide open, Lando. No one is holding you here by force,” you hadn’t meant those words, but they couldn’t be taken back.

“Is that what you want? You want to break up?” you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, let alone answer his question. “Fine,” he whispered, running a hand over his face, pacing around the hotel room, “Alright.”

The only memory that seemed to feel concrete and not muddled by all the drinks of the night prior, was the moment you woke up the following day. The sloppily written note on a receipt from some club letting you know that he had left per your request. And even though he didn’t explicitly say things were over, it wasn’t difficult to understand what the note was implying. Beside the fact that you two no longer interacted as a couple, everything else seemed normal, especially to those who didn’t pry beyond surface level. It was for good reason that you two did this; Carlos would have taken your side regardless of the situation, and you didn’t want to be the root cause of a possible falling out. Maybe that's why you didn’t blame Max and Kelly when they told you that you would be sharing a room with Lando for their wedding.

You had somehow arrived before Lando, taking that time to unpack and mentally prepare to be in such an intimate space with him after such a long time apart. Things were definitely going to be awkward; you were certain you would have to tell everyone the truth about the status of your relationship. It was becoming increasingly clear to you that lying to everyone hadn’t been the best idea. But telling the truth now, when it had been months of lying, was certain to dampen the vibe of the next few days and put a rift between everyone involved. So as Lando walked into the room you couldn't stop yourself from blurting out your disapproval.

“We can’t possibly tell them the truth– it would ruin everything, and I refuse to ruin Max and Kelly’s wedding week.”

He stared blankly at you, shutting the door and placing his suitcase beside it, “Jesus, could you give a man a few seconds. I’ve just barely walked through the door.” You ran a nervous hand through your hair, pacing across the expanse of the room. How could he look so calm about this, you envied how well he played things off. No matter how much things truly affected him, he always had to have an obnoxious nonchalant air to him. “You’re making me dizzy,” he let out a slight chuckle that made your eye twitch.

“I’m sorry for being the only one concerned over this, Lando.”

“More like paranoid. Relax, there's nothing to be concerned about,” he said with a light shrug, throwing himself onto the only bed. It stuck out like a sore thumb, a reminder of how difficult it would be to ignore him over the next couple of days.

“What are we going to do about that?” you asked, nodding towards the bed a tense expression plastered on your usually calm face.

“We’re adults, sharing a bed isn’t a big deal, right?”

“Not a big deal at all,” you agreed, letting out a shaky breath attempting to calm your nerves. He nodded, giving you an awkward smile– the only sign of the emotions he was hiding behind his mask. For a moment you were sure he was just as concerned as you were, if not more.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

Rehearsal dinners, a momentous event for any wedding. Sure, the actual wedding ceremony and reception are consequential, but the rehearsal dinner sets the tone for those two. Landos presence alone hand you high strung, now add the high stake of this fake commitment you both had. The clamminess of your hands increased tenfold as you sat beside him, occasionally giving a small smile as Lando conversed with those around you. The conversations around you seemed to fade as you focused on the napkin in front of you. Its stark whiteness against the deep colors of the tableware around it making it stand out. It almost felt like the napkin was taunting you, as if saying, “You’re not fooling anyone, you two stand out as much as I do in this sea of real couples.”

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks you from across the table, face etched into a mix of concern and suspicion. Your silence throughout this whole ordeal becoming a clear indicator that something was wrong.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you're okay,” he repeated, eyes glancing between you and Lando.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you responded with a shaky smile.

Carlos' eyes narrowed at you, clearly not buying your answer, he seemed to want to say more but hesitated. Lando quickly intercepted the conversation moving on to a topic he could easily control.

“How much do you want to bet that Max will cry tomorrow?” Lando asked, a playful smirk making its way onto his face, “I say he starts crying as soon as he gets ready for the ceremony.”

“I bet you’ll cry more at your wedding,” Carlos says smiling at you and Lando, it's clear he's fond of the idea of a wedding between his sister and close friend.

“Yeah, probably, but we have a few more years until we even start worrying about that,” Lando placed a hand behind your chair, his fingers gently grazing the exposed skin of your back.

“You didn’t deny the idea of a wedding, does that mean you plan to marry my sister?”

“Let's slow down, mate. I'm not going to deny or admit anything,” Lando let out a laugh, tracing soft shapes onto your shoulder. For once his words and actions didn’t feel forced, as if this were second nature to him. It was almost impossible to tell if he was being truthful in his response or if it was all part of the act. You stared at the half empty glass of wine in front of you, hands moving on their own accord to bring the glass to your lips allowing you to nearly down it all in one go. You were going to need a lot more to drink if you were going to sell the act.

Maybe you had underestimated how much you had to drink or perhaps everything was becoming too hard to control. You felt Landos arm wrap around your waist as he guided you back to your shared room, whispering about something you had done though you didn’t catch what he said and you could hardly remember the rest of the dinner.

“You’re a lightweight,” Lando sighed as he sat you at the edge of the bed, kneeling down to unstrap your heels. His touch against your bare ankle felt nothing short of electric, something so intense and mind numbing.

“I’ve missed you,” you drunkenly admit, running your foot against his chest.

His grip on your ankle tightens in an attempt to hinder your movement, “hm,” he hums out as a response, impulsively lifting your leg up to press a small kiss to the inside of your ankle. The familiar pressure of his lips against your skin erupts your skin in goosebumps.

“We’re more in love than ever before,” you say, giving Lando one of the most sincere smiles he's seen from you in a while, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly as you talked to Kelly, “Right, Lando?”

“Absolutely madly in love,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. He hadn't expected you to move and plant your lips against his in a sloppy drunk kiss, drawing laughs from those around you.

His lips continue to travel up your calf, his eyes trained on your face to catch any glimpse of change in your expression. He pushes you down against the bed, hovering over you, “You’re drunk,” he lets out a sigh, resting his head in the crook of our neck.

“And?”

“We shouldn’t do this while you're drunk– I refuse to do this while you're drunk,” Lando whispers, unsure if he's trying to convince you or himself, “I don’t want you to regret this when you're sober, and it's just wrong.”

You grab his face, pulling him away from his hiding spot in your neck. You stare at him for a while before bringing his face closer to your own, gently meeting your lips in a surprisingly fluid kiss.

Lando quickly pulls away, standing from his spot on top of you, “No, not while you’re… like that,” he rubs a hand on his face, gesturing frustratedly at you. He grabs a pillow and a sheet from the bed, laying on the decently sized couch in the room deciding it would be better to sleep away from you– considering the state you were in.

The blinding light coming from the window awoke you the following morning, your pulsating headache the only reminder of the night before. Lando was already awake, still laying on the couch typing away on his phone. He seemed to feel your gaze on him, “How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting up to get a better look at you, his voice filled with slight concern.

“I’ve felt better, can’t remember shit,” you admit, placing a hand on your forehead as if it would do anything to calm the pulsing headache.

“That's probably for the better,” he stares at you longingly, it's clear that he does remember whatever happened at the rehearsal dinner and your shared room, “we should begin getting ready, we can’t be late to Max and Kellys big day.” You wanted to press him for answers, force him to reveal the source of his distant attitude, but decided against it. Things couldn’t get more tense between you, especially not tonight.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

The wedding ceremony had been beautiful, Max had indeed cried almost as soon as Kelly began to make her way towards him. And even now as they sat together at the wedding reception you could catch the hint of a happy tear poke its way out of his eyes.

You felt Landos hand slip around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. He had remained by your side since the wedding ceremony, refusing to leave you for even a second. His actions felt less forced than they had previously felt. And as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear bits and pieces of the day prior began to escape the floodgates of your mind.

You let out a small giggle as Lando whispered into your ear, “stop it, you’re not acting like yourself. They’ll catch on,” his breath tickling you.

“I just love you so much,” you whispered back, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips, giggling to yourself like a child. You’d never been big on PDA but in your drunken state you couldn’t seem to keep your hands and lips off of Lando.

“You too are adorable, as in love as when you first started dating– perhaps even more in love,” Alexandra said from beside Charles, smiling between you and Lando.

“Our love has definitely grown. We’re going to get married and have kids,” you leaned into Landos touch, your smile widening at Alexandra's words.

“Okay, you've had way too much to drink– I think it's time to go to bed. We’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Lando announced to the table, shaking his head with a nervous laugh.

“Oh we’re sure you're gonna go to bed,” Daniel teased, causing the table to erupt in laughter.

“Hey, you okay?” Lando asked, concern written all over his face, his eyes dancing across your face.

“Yeah.”

“You spaced out, didn’t even react to what I said.”

“What did you say?” you asked, finally snapping out of the memory of the night prior.

He stared at you, his face still overtaken with concern, “I said, we sold the lie pretty good…” he whispered. If you didn’t know better you'd think he was upset, upset that it was all a show. For a moment he frowned, quickly smiling again, “Lets go dance,” he grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dance floor.

Lando placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close to him, moving you both to the rhythm of the song. He smiled tenderly at you, and everything began to blur into a confusing mess. You weren’t sure what was real and what was a lie fabricated to convince everyone that you were still madly in love. He played the role of loving boyfriend so well that you were beginning to fall for the charade too, you were starting to believe that he still loved you and had never stopped.

Your head found its way to his chest, resting there as if it were its official home. The both of you continued to silently sway to the music. The world around you seemed to disappear, almost as if you were the only ones that mattered at that moment. It was confusing how you felt so connected to him yet so far.

Lando rested his shin atop your head for a moment. He straightened out his back, bringing your dancing to a halt, hand reaching to grasp your chin so that you were staring at him. “Please tell me you’re not faking it,” he whispered, his eyes desperately searching yours, “tell you still love me. That you’ve meant every fleeting touch, every stolen glance, every kiss you’ve given me this weekend… please.”

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or his words that made the room around you spin, forcing you to grasp onto the jacket of his suit to stabilize yourself. The music you were dancing to just a moment ago now a murmured buzz in your ear. You wanted to be truthful, to admit that you had never stopped loving him and possibly never would. The look of desperation on his face urging you to confess your soul to him. “Of course I love you” you finally said aloud for the first time in months, relief instantly flooding his face.

Lando cupped your cheek, gently caressing it, a genuine smile spreading across his face. Neither of you had been faking anything, that much was clear as his lips found their place on top of your own. It was gentle, not rushed but relaxed, as if you had until the end of times to relish in each other's presence. He pulled away after a while, letting your lips hover– barely touching, breathing in each other's shaky breaths. “Do you think they’d notice if we left?” he asked, looking around the reception.

“No, everyone is focused on Max and Kelly.”

“Good,” he said, slightly out of breath as he led you towards the exit. You silently thanked Max and Kelly for choosing to have their wedding close to where you were all staying.

It didn't take you long to get back to your room, instantly finding each other in a heated kiss. Bodies pressing against one another as you desperately tried to get closer, almost as if you wanted to become one.

“Take this off,” Lando mumbled against your neck as he pulled at the zipper of your dress in a pitiful attempt to help you get undressed. You let the fabric pool on the floor, kicking off your heels, leaving you exposed to his hunger filled eyes.

“It's not fair that I’m completely naked you’re not,” you complained as he guided you towards the bed, gently pushing you onto it when the back of your knees hit the edge.

He tossed his suit jacket aside, his fingers attempting to quickly and smoothly unbutton his shirt, “better?” he asked as he was left shirtless.

You sat up for a moment, your hands working to rid him of his trousers, smiling and resting back on the bed when you finally succeeded, “Much better.”

Lando pressed himself against you, placing kisses down your neck, “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, your hands tangling themselves into his hair as you pulled him up for a kiss. It was much more rushed than the previous kisses had been, his teeth clashing against your own, your tongues pressing against one another. His hands ran up and down the expanse of your body before finding their new home atop your breasts, each one kneading at them.

You wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his hand down towards your pussy, gasping at his thumb rubbed against your clit. He pulled away from your lips, leaving you out of breath, kissing down your body. "Please,” you whispered as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing soft kisses to your thighs. Running his tongue up your slit, wrapping his lips on to your sensitive nub. Lando continued to switch between lapping at your cunt and sucking at your clit– teasing your entrance with his middle finger, slowly pushing it in. Encouraged by your moans and the wet squelching sound coming from between your thighs, he sped up his actions, swallowing at you like a starved man. You pushed against his head, back arching off the bed as your first orgasm of the night washed over you.

Lando pulled away, smiling up at you, “still know how to get you off,” he said smugly, pressing a quick kiss to your thigh.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you urged him, pulling him back up, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“But teasing you is so fun.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your legs around him, quickly switching your position so that you were on top of him. “Don’t make me regret this,” you spat on your hand, taking his hard cock in your hand giving it a teasing jerk.

“Please don’t” he grunted, your finger running against his slit. Your brows drawn together in concentration as you lined him up to your entrance, letting out a shaky breath as sank down onto him. You took a moment to adjust to having him inside you, resting your hand against his chest to steady yourself as you lifted your hips and brought them back down. You let out a shaky breath as you began to ride him, guiding his hands up to your breasts and they bounced with your movement. You had forgotten how full it felt to have him within you– clenching around his cock as he sucked at one of your breasts, rolling the other nipple between his fingers.

Your pace faltered as you lost yourself in the pleasure, letting out loud gasps as Lando began to thrust up to meet your movements. He wrapped his hand around your hips, bringing them down harder to meet his thrusts. Landos pace increased as your nails dug into his chest, rhythm becoming sloppy as he felt his orgasm approach. “I should probably pull out,” he rasped but made no attempt to do so.

“It's okay, I'm on birth control,” you breathed out.

“Shit,” he stilled your movements, spilling inside of you, his fingers finding their way back to your clit in an attempt to pull another orgasm from you. Your head fell into the crook of his neck as you came for a second time. The room around you spinning slightly as you attempted to catch your breath.

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?” he asked breathlessly, voice still shaky.

“Definitely.”

“Should we go back?”

“No,” you respond, lifting yourself off of Lando to lay beside him. You had no desire to redress and mingle at the reception after what had happened. You couldn't trust your feet to carry you for the rest of the night, especially when you still felt the dizzying effects of sex.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

They had noticed your absence, and they teased you relentlessly about it the few days after the wedding. You had reconciled with Lando, your relationship going back to the way it was before the stupid argument. And with that reconciliation came the confession, in which you confessed to everyone that you had briefly broken up. Although the break up had been entirely your fault, upon hearing the confession Carlos glared at Lando– muttering not so empty threats to him about not hurting you. You were certain he would have strangled Lando if you hadn’t reconciled.

You smiled up at Lando as you lounged in the living room, resting your head back onto his chest. He placed a lingering kiss on the stop of your head, wrapping his arms around you. This had been your reality since Max and Kellys wedding, pure bliss. You couldn’t experience and explore for one another every waking moment.

“I could stay like this forever,” Lando whispered into your hair, his grip around you tightening as if he were scared to lose you again. Or as if he thought this were a dream and you'd vanish at any moment with the simple sound of an alarm. But you were real and you weren’t going to lose one another again, you wouldn't allow that.

“Me too,” you whispered back, “I love you.”

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: feel free to request something, Beware: I am slow at posting and have a lot of drafts that are yet to be posted. I'm like running on 4 hours of sleep and celsius, so I apologize for the grammar and spelling mistakes. I didn't do this request justice but I tried (I swear)

1K notes · View notes

coquettepascal · 4 months ago

Text

frosted kisses

pt. ii to texas sweet

summary: after some serious distance, a nightmarish evening at the miller household leaves you and joel closer than before.

tags: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, fingering, pulling out, missionary, almost oral, joel is a consent king, gentle!joel, soft!joel, proud dad joel returns, tommy is here, so are sarah and ellie, don't ask how old they are i really can't tell you, tension, sexual tension, kind of angst(?), realistic sex, reader is in a panic as usual, but joel is really sweet, kissing, neck kisses, biting, scratching, mention of joel's dad gut (yum), joel in a wifepleaser, use of darlin' and baby and honey, one use of good girl, praise kink (a little), takes place during july (texas sweet was in june)

a/n: thank you to my biggest cheerleaders @mochamadeleines and @pascalssbabyy <3 also thank you to everyone for being so patient for this sequel. i hope you all enjoy !! :]

texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

wc: 7.6k (sorry :3)

It is way too hot outside to be doing anything but laying in an ice bath, yet here you are leaving at 9am for your shift. The walk to the bus stop isn’t bad, but it does mean you have to walk by Joel’s house.

Joel.

He never followed through on that promise of taking you out for dinner, but it’s only been a month since that night. The two of you had been friendly in passing, since it’s hard to avoid one another, but you can see the avoidance in his eyes. A little while ago you looked up when “neighbours day” was, remembering how he said to let him know. But, it turns out that’s all the way in May, and it’s currently July… So.

So you’ve been avoiding each other a little. That’s fine, it was a weird situation for the two of you to find yourselves in. You stared at Joel’s grey-blue truck when it rolled back down the street that night, the headlights flashing yellow on your walls. The hand resting on your chin still smelled like him, like his dick.

Honestly, everything on you smelled like him for a little while, your shirt especially, but also your skin. Joel wouldn’t leave you alone, even though he physically was. Watching him from your window started to become an obsession, seeing the sweat soak through his t-shirt when he’d mow the lawn on the weekends. You couldn’t stop watching him, remembering how needy he was.

Your achy need for him was a constant at night, only competing for dominance over your mind by wondering how needy Joel was.

Nothing could drive the memory of his whimpers and groans out of your mind, the throb of his cock in your hand, and the way his hands twitched and grasped at nothing when he came. It would attack you at random times throughout the day, especially when you were on the bus coming home from work. Most of your days are boring, repetitive. The same texts from your mom, the same job, the same… everything. Joel was the most exciting thing for you, but that was short lived. It was just one evening.

It’s kind of fucked up how you just have to move on, sweaty palmed every morning as you pass by Joel’s house. It isn’t even like he’s home when you walk by, he starts work at around 8am. You would know because Tommy’s truck is noisy as all hell, it works great as a last minute alarm.

Or at least he isn’t usually home.

“Mornin’ darlin,” calls Joel as you step off your porch.

His voice is just as warm and sweet as ever, like the sun today if it were kinder, but there’s an extra cheerful lilt in it. Turning your head, you see Joel still in his pajamas. It’s a weekday, so that’s odd, but what’s more odd is that he’s hanging balloons outside.

A light grey wife pleaser stretches around his torso, showing off his thick arms and shoulders. This is not something you’ve seen Joel wear before, but he must have slept in it if the plaid pajama pants are anything to go by.

It’s the polite thing to do to go over there and say hello, right? That’s what your mom would want you to do, to be neighborly. You’re not going over there to check him out. That would be crazy.

Crossing the grass from your house to his is easy, but spit is all caught in your throat by the time you get over to him. Jesus, are you drooling?

“Hi Joel,” you manage to reply to his greeting as he tapes another balloon up to the overhang of his garage, “what are the balloons for?”

He grunts as he twists to fix the tape, the balloon nearly falling on his head. The way he’s stretching up is making the wife pleaser stretch up, exposing the skin of his waist. Your fingers twitch, wanting to touch there again. It makes your mind spin, thinking about how your hands have been there, that he knows what it’s like to have you on him. An explicit secret that neither of you share. You wish he was facing the other way so you could see his tummy, the plushness of it was so comfy against your arm.

“S’for Sarah,” he finally responds, turning to face you.

And oh… oh that’s why he’s so damn happy. He had talked about it in passing a few times during the small talk you had made. Sarah’s birthday was in July and she planned on coming home for it, Joel was so bright everytime he talked about it. His smile is so much bigger when he talks about his daughters.

“Is she coming home today?” You ask, shifting on your feet. Joel nods, tearing off another piece of tape with his teeth.

“Uh-huh, pickin’ her up around noon. We’re doin’ a dinner tonight,” he says. You can see how his eyes are a little unfocused, excited. He sticks the tape to the knot of the balloon and starts to continue his sentence, but is cut off by the front door opening.

The sound catches your attention, your eyes flicking to the door. You didn’t see his truck in the driveway, but there’s Tommy Miller in all his glory.

You won’t lie to yourself, the Miller family clearly has good genetics. Tommy’s got these gorgeous waves in his black hair, and a charming smile too. But, he isn’t nearly as soft as Joel is. Not a player, but Joel’s been worn in by 2 daughters and a divorce, like a well loved plushie. Tommy hasn’t been worn in by anything, in fact he’s known for wearing things out. As much as you’ve heard the whispers at neighborhood events, the other Miller brother has never interested you. Tommy, of course, has shown interest in you once or twice. A few bottles in and he’ll talk to anything.

Today though, Tommy is behaving. He flashes you a kind smile, and nods.

“Hey neighbor-girl,” he greets.

You almost snort. You know Tommy knows your name, but he’s being weird. Did Joel tell him? Probably not. Do brothers share that sort of information? You’re getting sweaty again–

“Saw the flowers y’bought Ole Joel,” Tommy grins, “thought maybe his ex’d dropped by.”

Oh. Oh thank god. Thank god the flowers gave it away.

Joel snorts and then scowls at Tommy, shaking his head. He mutters something about you “having a name,” and suddenly all you can hear is the blood in your veins. A hot rush flies over you, but you’re flushed from the sun anyways. What difference will a blush make? It’s not that obvious.

Distracted with your anxiety around the two, you barely realize that Tommy is scolding Joel now.

“S’nice girl gave you flowers and y’ain’t even invited her to the dinner tonight?” Tommy scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. Your eyes flash to his arms and Jesus does being brothers mean you’re both built as fuck?

“Tommy,” Joel says, voice tight, “I was midway through a conversation with’er. Was just about to.”

They exchange a look you can’t really decipher. Tommy raises his eyebrows and Joel curls his lip in response. Then, Tommy turns on his heel and goes back in the house.

The heat outside is already uncomfortable, but now you feel awkward. You didn’t realize that Joel would invite you to something. Maybe he didn’t even want to, he just didn’t want to look like an asshat in front of Tommy. Joel looks sheepish in his pajamas, downturned frown neutralizing to a softer smile. He breathes in to speak, but now you don’t want his invite.

“Joel,” you say quietly, “you don’t have to invite me. I’d hate to intrude on your family time with Sarah.”

You really thought that you’d want to speak to Joel after all this time, but this feels humiliating. A pity invite to his daughter’s birthday dinner? It’s not what you expected, or wanted. As much as you’d like to see Sarah, something about it feels wrong. What would you say?

“Hey, it's been awhile. How’s college been? Good! Aw, I’m glad. Yeah last time I saw your dad I jerked him off. Oh, you’re in STEM?”

No, that’s not what you want. He looks like he’s going to protest, but you have to shut him down. You’ve never really spoken to his other daughter, Ellie. It feels like a nightmare waiting to happen.

“I’m just your neighbor,” you wave your hand, as if you could make this go away.

Joel’s brows furrow, his mustache curling back downwards with his frown. Skittishly, his eyes flick away.

“I… I’d like it if y’came. Even if we’re just neighbors,” Joel says. He seems embarrassed about inviting you, a red hue glowing beneath the sweat on his neck.

Alone, in front of the garage, it feels like he’s under you again. Why is he so shy? So bashful? Something in you is frustrated. You’ve been waiting for a month for any scraps, anything more than neighborly chit-chat, and now you have to turn him down. Doesn’t he realize you’ve been waiting for him?

You don’t want to be just neighbors with this Joel, you want more. You want to know him more than just as “hot-single-dad-next-door.”

You want to know him the way you did when you were behind him on the couch.

But… Maybe this is Joel. You saw the pictures all over his house, and he runs a company with his brother. Family is clearly everything to him, and even if this isn’t a dinner-date like he promised, this is something more. It’s closer for him, this is his own version of pulling you in.

Besides, your mom would want you to say yes. It’s polite, right?

You concede to Joel’s wishes, as much as you want something else. He smiles really big when you agree, a shy “okay” leaving you. It’s not like you could ignore him anyways, not with the way his wife pleaser is stretched around him so… pleasingly.

He tells you that there’s a colour theme of black and blue, since Sarah wants everyone to match in the pictures. Joel starts to blab about what a good photographer she is, but you actually shut him down this time, so as to not miss your bus.

—

Somehow, standing on Joel’s porch is a lot worse than last time. You don’t have a bunch of flowers for your neighborly crush, or a set of hands to ease his back. All you have is the guilt in your gut for showing up at his daughter’s birthday dinner.

It took you almost 45 minutes to pick an outfit. He mentioned blue and black, but didn’t mention what shade of blue. Everything you had felt either too dressy, or was literally pajamas. Eventually you found something that worked, but now you’re in your own head. Will Joel think this is nice? Does Joel even think you’re pretty in the first place? You can’t remember, your mind is blanking.

Jesus, chill out. You’re going over for dinner, and this isn’t even about you.

Swallowing the saliva in your mouth, you knock.

“I’ll get it!!” A voice yells from inside. Not Joel’s.

Tommy grins at you after he swings open the door. He’s done his hair back, instead of tying it back, and he’s wearing a blue and black, plaid, flannel. The Miller brothers seem to have a flannel for every occasion.

“Well helloo Neighbor-Girl,” Tommy greets. His smile is devious as he stands in the doorway.

Loud footsteps rush up behind Tommy and he’s suddenly being yanked out of your view by a hand.

“Christ, Tommy, leave’er alone.” Joel grunts.

He isn’t wearing a flannel, which surprises you. His usual casual clothes have been replaced by a nice, black, western shirt. The stitching across the chest is done in black as well. Not unlike Tommy, is his slicked back hair. It’s short still, but it looks good pushed back.

He tells you to keep your shoes on as he leads you to the backyard. You can’t keep your eyes off him as he and Tommy walk ahead of you. That black shirt, stretched across his back, the curls that lick upwards where his hair isn’t slicked. God, he looks stupidly good.

The house looks about the same. Same couch where you jerked him off, same table where the flowers used to sit, same pictures of his family on the walls. Everything feels different. Why doesn’t it look different?

Finally your eyes reach the backyard, and it looks magical. Various lights have been set up to create a relaxed atmosphere, with some comfortable lawn furniture set up on the deck. The barbecue is clearly cooking something, and Tommy walks to it automatically.

Sarah and Ellie seem to be giggling to themselves, hunched over in secrecy. The sisters whisper to one another, but part once they see you.

“Hi,” Ellie says immediately, her bright eyes looking at you excitedly. You greet her in return, then wish Sarah a happy birthday.

She’s wearing a matching shirt to Joel’s, which is adorable. You know for a fact that Joel wouldn’t dress up past a button up or flannel for most occasions, meaning Sarah probably begged him for this. Even the wash of their jeans are the same.

You’re just about to strike up a conversation with the two girls when Joel comes up behind you and squeezes your upper arm gently.

“‘M sittin’ over there, if you’d like to join,” he motions to an outdoor couch identical to the one Sarah and Ellie are sitting on.

It’s close enough that you could go back to talking with the girls, but once you’ve sat down beside Joel, they’re back to giggling.

—

It feels like everybody knows.

This fear from earlier has manifested in front of your eyes, this awful anxiety growing. You could barely finish your food, even though it was delicious. Your mouth is dry all the time, you can’t stop drinking water. You hyperfocus on every little action you take, feeling crazy,

Tommy has been staring at you like he’s holding a secret, his eyes seem to say “I know something you don’t,” and every time you turn your back Sarah and Ellie are giggling again. For them, you try to cut some slack. Ellie is a teen, and Sarah isn’t a lot older than her, they’re young girls, of course they’re giggling. It’s Tommy who’s making you anxious, especially with the scolding scowls that Joel keeps sending him.

The conversations are fine once you stop eating, mostly with you listening and observing the dynamic in the family. Tommy talks about this recent client he and Joel have been working with as you all eat cake, but it’s hard to focus when it feels like everybody knows what you did.

Joel seems to notice this anxiety over the course of the night, looking at you with mild concern a few times. He even asks if you’re alright at some point, holding the “darlin” for once, and you just tell him you had a rough day at work. Total lie, the only rough thing about this day is how you feel like you’re going to throw up all your food anytime someone in his family starts to perceive you.

Later in the evening, Joel rests his hand on your knee when he reaches for his beer, and you flinch. He seems caught off guard by this, but luckily nobody else notices. His eyes are apologetic as he looks at you, all brown and sappy.

Shame is burning in your veins. He’s invited you here to spend this special night with his daughter and family. He's been so kind to feed you too, but now you’ve made him feel weird too. It feels like your anxiety is leaking out of your pores, a haze of guilt clouding your mind and flooding his. Joel hasn’t seemed bothered at all tonight, or at least he hasn’t shown it.

But there he is, accommodating you as he leans a little closer and asks;

“S’gettin’ late. I could walk y’home.”

There he is, there’s your Joel. Your Joel, the one who you know as a caring man. In any other situation this would feel like someone politely requesting you leave the party early, but not with Joel. He’s conscious of your emotions, and he can tell you’re too overwhelmed to be here anymore. There’s your sweet boy, reeling you in before it gets to be too much.

You only nod in response.

It’s a few more minutes before you get out of there, with Tommy and Ellie stacking copious amounts of leftovers for you onto paper plates, lidding them with tin foil. You use this time to talk a little with Sarah, asking about her time in college. She’s happy to share with you, and you can see Joel in her. She has the welcoming energy, the same warmth in her that pools in her eyes. Even without the outfits they would match.

Ellie, however, must be spending too much time with Tommy. They both wear shit eating grins as they hand you the stack of plates stuffed with leftovers, with Tommy asking you to “Come back anytime.”

Blood rushes to your face fast, and you toddle off to the door quickly after saying thank you.

—

The air on the porch is cooler, but your adrenaline is making you run hot. You want to stop sweating, but all the looks and giggles and comments from the night are running through your mind repeatedly. What did they know? How did they know? Joel wouldn’t tell them anything like that, would he? Thank God you didn’t stay long enough to be in those pictures that Sarah wanted to take.

The front door thuds shut a moment later. Joel’s steps fall heavy behind you, then he’s beside you. He’s barely touched you tonight, and even now he keeps his distance. You’re glad for it, you couldn’t have handled it anyways.

You both walk the short distance to your house, using the pathway rather than cutting through the grass like you usually do. It feels like you should be enjoying these extra seconds of time with him, but all you feel is embarrassed.

He breathes in the cool air of the summer night through his nose, chest puffing, then blows it out.

“I am so, so, fuckin’ sorry,” he says.

It takes you off guard immediately. You felt like you were acting crazy all night just by your own overthinking, but it was also fuelled by Joel’s non-chalantness about everything. He didn’t seem to notice anything all night but you and how anxious you were. This feels like the start of a conversation, so you put the leftovers down on the bottom step of your porch.

“I– Ellie, when I brought her home after you were over last,” he begins, “she got home and saw the flowers right away. I told her not to make nothin’ of it, but she went and rattled off to Sarah and Tommy.”

Oh, okay. It was just the flowers. That’s good, at least they think you’re a lovesick loser, rather than the neighborhood floozy.

“I told them to act right tonight, begged’em to. The three of’em have been torturing me about it, I think it’s why I avoided you,” Joel admits quietly.

He’s doing it again, soothing your worries without meaning to. He’s a cooling balm on your burning brain, a sense of sanity cleansing you.

Joel wasn’t ashamed of what happened between you two, his family was just being shitstirrers about him receiving flowers. It wasn’t on purpose, and most importantly–

“I’m really sorry, angel. I should have called or– or somethin. Askin’ you to come tonight was askin’ for trouble from them. My daughter’s birthday ain’t makin’ up for shit, ‘specially not when they’re actin’ like that.”

An apology. Joel Miller seemed like a solid man before, one that was dependable, polite, and kind, but now he seems near-perfect. He’s taking accountability, admitting how he acted and why, and apologizing. No wonder he has two incredible daughters, both of whom love him dearly.

You stand there for a minute, a little speechless. You can’t remember a time that a man apologized to you and seemed to really mean it, or at least understand what he did wrong. But there’s Joel, in his black western shirt that’s rolled up his thick forearms, eyes soft and sorry as he looks at you in the blue-black night. He’s not like any man you’ve met before, not like your dad, friends back home, or your ex-boyfriend.

Tonight isn’t like any night you’ve had in Texas so far, but for so many different reasons. You’ve had a few weird nights, sure. Like what you shared with Joel, or the time you took the wrong bus home and got lost downtown, but it’s weird in a good way.

Tonight, you get to accept an apology from a man who truly seems sorry. Who’s admitted his wrongs, explained what happened, and more than that he’s been earnest about it. You didn’t have to beg for this apology, or argue why he should apologize. He did that on his own, made up his mind, and said sorry like a real man would.

It’s hard to make up your mind on what to do though, whether you should throw yourself at him and kiss him dizzy, or to just say “It’s alright, no hard feelings.”

You settle somewhere in the middle, taking his hands into your own. Your thumb pads rest in the centre of his palms, pushing down and massaging his hands.

“It’s okay,” you say finally, voice unsteady.

Joel isn’t at fault for his family being devious and obviously way too interested in his love life. What he is at fault for, is avoiding you. Brave enough to apologize, pussy enough to avoid the girl he likes. You keep talking.

“I wish you would have spoken to me about this, it made me feel awkward,” you tell him.

He looks up from your joined hands then, looking at you face on. Shame is painting his features, but he’s trying to be courageous, you can tell.

There is no “I know I should have,” or “I’m sorry you felt that way.” Just his voice saying, “I’m sorry.”

No if’s, and’s, or but’s. He’s sorry without excuse or pride.

The night air is still brisk on your skin, but Joel is warm everywhere. If you laid a hand onto his cheek you would feel hot flesh burning you back. His eyes flit from your own for a moment, decisive.

“I’d really, really, like to have dinner with you sometime. I know tonight was a disaster, so I won’t be offended if y’say no, but… I wanna make this up to you.”

This feels so much realer than last time, like he’s gripping your heart in his hand and squeezing as it beats. Joel isn’t just saying this in passing after he’s come in your hand, he’s not awkward and politely asking to return a favor. Joel wants this, wants you, wants to have dinner with you. It probably should have occurred to you when he invited you to his daughter’s birthday dinner, but it’s only hitting you right now. No more pity invites, he wants this.

Joel Miller wants this, he wants you, and he’s standing there with your hands in his, with his stupid soft eyes and with his heart on the line. He’s beautiful right now, standing with you as sorry as he can be. You’ll let him have this, he’s asking for it himself. Joel’s being so much braver this time around.

“I think we could do that,” you reply quietly.

His shoulders relax, brow unfurrowing. You can see the relief flood over him instantly, and he looks beautiful then too.

It’s easy from there. Joel’s voice is so soft when he’s grateful, quiet as he thanks and arranges a date-night with you. The two of you decide that a night in would be fine, since Joel ends up working late pretty often. You’re fine with this, and would honestly rather have him to yourself anyways. No more prying eyes when you’re with him, no more over-bearing perceptions that make your brain fizzle out with anxiety. Just you and Joel.

Admittedly, this silly crush on Joel began at a pretty surface level. Not shallow, but all you knew about him was that he was a hot dad and a nice guy. Now, though? Now he’s proven himself, shown you that there’s something in him that you can reach for. Everything’s bigger in Texas, but so far it’s only made you feel small. Being around Joel hushes you, like a kiss to a scrape. You want to know him deeper.

He squeezes your hands, then drops them so you can pick up your leftovers. You feel a little shy turning your back to him as you make it up to your door, but then he speaks.

“You looked real pretty tonight, angel, more’n usual.”

You hope he can’t hear the squeak you make when the door shuts behind you.

—

It’s a few days later, and Joel is supposed to be coming soon. He warned that he’s been working late recently, that he probably won’t be off work until eight that evening. You don’t care, you made him dinner.

It’s sitting in the kitchen, ready to be rewarmed when he gets to your house. It’s 8:30 now, he should be here soon. You’re tucked away on the couch, settled after recooling the house with your air conditioner. To be honest it should be illegal to cook during summers like this. You sweated so much you thought about taking another shower, but it wouldn’t have helped.

Besides, Joel’s showing up to your house in probably 10 minutes, sweaty and gross from work. It won’t be like you’re any grosser in comparison.

As predicted, he does show up ten minutes later. His hair is a mess and he smells like hard work, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters when he’s in your doorway, toeing off his boots, and asking how your day was. Joel’s eyes keep shyly meeting yours as you lead him to your living room and turn to face him. He’s nervous, clearly, but it’s sweet. You’re both out of your element again, this time in your house instead.

Joel’s eyes flit around the room when he’s avoiding your eyes, taking in your home similar to how you did his when you were there not so long ago. You wonder what he’s thinking, hoping he doesn’t find you to be boring. He keeps clenching and unclenching his fists and laughing nervously, and you keep watching how his adam's apple bobs in his throat, and how he vibrates with his laughter. He looks puppylike in the soft light of your home, brown eyes glistening.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, tilting your head upwards. He looks so huge in your little space.

Joel nods sheepishly, and so you lead him into the kitchen.

—

They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and maybe Joel is the reason they say that. He groaned his way through dinner, with his eyes rolled back and compliments flying off his tongue when he wasn’t chewing. He listened to every word you said intently, taking his time with the food you had made. It had taken almost 40 minutes for him to finish that plate of food, and you saw just earlier that week how fast he could pound back a meal.

He’s savoring you with this silent praise you’ve never experienced.

And now he’s sat beside you on the couch, arm around your shoulders, and you’re snuggled back into him. The remote seems like a prop as you use it, aimlessly scrolling through a streaming service for a movie. Your thumbs are just rubbing over the rubber buttons now, your eyes focused on how his chest rises and falls.

“I really don’t mind what you wanna watch, baby,” He says.

His voice seems so much nicer up close like this, when his face is just above yours and you’re beside him.

“Or we don’t have to watch anything at all, we can just talk.”

How are you supposed to control yourself around him? How can he just walk into your home and fit right into your space, and look that good and be so warm? It feels like your bones are fighting against your skin to move, like the blood in your veins is yearning to jump rope. Joel is turning you on in a way you didn’t think possible, in a way where he’s never touched you, but you need him all at once. He’s softening the both of you.

It’s the middle of the hottest July of your entire life, but you’ve never felt warmer than right now.

“I’m sorry, was that weird? I jus’ like to hear you talk an–” Fuck he’s so nervous. Why is he so nervous? You want him loose and pliant again, like he was on the couch.

“You should kiss me,” you blurt out.

It’s funny how this is not the most insane thing you’ve suggested. The first crazy thing you suggested was “helping” him out with his boner when you went to his house on father’s day.

Still, Joel is surprised.

“You think so? I jus’ ate, I probably taste like food,” he says it like it’s an excuse.

You shift your body so you can face him better, chin tilted up so you can see his face. He’s not blushing, but he does seem surprised. This is much different than the embarrassed girl he walked home not even a week ago.

“Joel, I’m sure. I just– I don’t know, I’m sorry,” you bumble out.

He’s shaking his head, eyebrows pinched in that stupid way that makes his eyes look like a baby animals.

“No, no, baby, it’s alright I’m just gross from work and I…” He drops eye contact with you.

“I don’t want you to think that all I want from you is physical. You’re beautiful in a lot more ways than that.”

Fuck this guy, seriously. He’s so nervous, and clearly still thinks he’s fumbling this. Your bones are still vibrating, you’re so close to jumping out of your skin and into his.

“Joel you’re incredible too, but I just really need you to kiss me,” you breathe.

He seems to get it then. You clearly have deeper feelings, but after so long apart, and that disaster with his family, you’re pent up. Joel knows he’s kept you waiting long enough.

His first kiss is hesitant, just a small one that ends in a mumbled apology.

“S’been awhile,” he excuses before going back in.

And from there, it escalates. He’s controlled in his kisses, and seems to be avoiding tongue kissing you. Joel’s hesitancy from eating earlier is there, and you appreciate the courtesy. He makes it up though, when you push him further back on the couch and slide into his lap, arms looped around his neck.

Kisses are dotted from your lips, down your chin, and to the soft skin of your neck, where his mouth nips and kisses gently. Your hands are in his hair as you roll your head back, wanting to allow him however much space he needs to kiss you. There’s no hesitancy for either of you to be quiet, with him groaning as he smothers your neck in kisses, and you whining as he finds your sensitive points.

It only takes a few ruts of your hips against his for him to be asking you if you want to go upstairs. He’s out of breath beneath you, cheeks flushed, and you can feel how hard he’s gotten.

“Y-yeah, my room,” you agree weakly, sliding off his lap.

Joel can barely keep his hands off you as you scamper up the stairs, grasping at your thighs and laughing softly when you squeak.

It feels so juvenile, the way he grabs for you as soon as you enter your room. His lips are back on yours even as you try to tug up his shirt and he shakes his head slightly.

“You first, I have a lot to make up for,” he mumbles, nodding his head towards the bed.

He undresses you once you’ve laid down, with eyes that drag over you in awe and pure attraction. Joel doesn’t mind your plain cotton undies, or the hairs that poke out the front. It’s sweet and homelike, it’s normal.

He kisses where your hip bone is, murmuring into the fabric that covers it.

“I really want to eat you out, beautiful. Is that okay with you?”

For the first time in this entire evening, his voice seems to sober you rather than intoxicate you more. Your lungs finally catch up with the rest of you, and you can breathe enough to get some actual oxygen into your brain, so you can think.

Obviously the answer should be yes, but you don’t feel totally comfortable with that yet. You’re not someone who prefers to be shaven, it’s inconvenient, but your bush is a little much even for you right now. On top of that, you’ve been sweating like crazy all day, so you don’t even wanna know what it’s like down there. And if you don’t wanna know what it’s like, then you don’t want Joel to know what it’s like, even if he really wants to.

So you shake your head.

Perfect boy he is, Joel nods and says “that’s alright, baby, thank you for bein’ honest,” as he slides back up your body after placing one more kiss on your hip bone.

You are okay with him lifting your shirt off, and then unclipping your bra. He palms at your breasts lovingly, kissing them all over and lapping at your nipples. All of his touches are so gentle, but stupidly impactful. He seems to know that you don’t want this to be rough, that you enjoy his sweetness. He’s understanding you without even trying, and it feels like you’re being loved for the first time.

Joel is being careful in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you’re being overdramatic, or fragile. He’s watching your movements so he can do this right, but at the same time you’re getting impatient.

“Joel,” you pant as he sucks your nipple back into his mouth, “Joel, take your clothes off, please?”

He’s stupidly excited as he scrambles off your bed, tugging his jeans down and almost getting caught in his shirt when he pulls it off wrong. Joel touches his boxers and then looks at you with questioning eyes. This is where he hesitates.

“We can turn the lights off,” you offer gently.

You remember his hesitancy on the couch, how he didn’t want you to look at him, to see him. It doesn’t matter if it’s dark in your room when this happens, so long as it’s him in the bed with you.

Joel turns and shuts the lights off, plunging the room into darkness for a moment before your eyes adjust. In another moment, you feel him on top of you again, his warm skin touching yours. It’s very lucky you cracked your window open earlier, so now your bedroom has become a manageable temperature.

He’s comfortable on top of you, with his plush tummy pressing against the softness of your own. Your legs tangle as you struggle to strip your undies off, and you give up when they get caught around your ankle. His nose is pressed to your cheek as he just hovers above you for a second.

“I know I said this earlier, but it really has been a long time,” he admits quietly.

It shouldn’t warm your heart the way it does, but the idea of him not sharing himself with anyone for so long until you… it’s special.

“That’s okay. Are you okay?” You ask.

He nods, from what you can feel, and then pulls back onto his knees. Joel isn’t totally visible in the light of your room, but he’s still gorgeous from what you can tell. The pouch of his tummy is so cute, so real, and you hope that you can bite it one day.

“I’m just going to prep you a little, is that okay darlin?” Joel says carefully, trailing a hand down your thigh.

Maybe from the outside this looks like two awkward people having sex, or maybe even like you don’t want each other at all. It sounds like there’s so much hesitancy in the room, but it’s not like that. The two of you are just reassuring one another, Joel to you because he was gone for so long, and you to him because it’s been so long for him.

So it isn’t awkward, when he plunges his finger into you. He starts with one, gentle as ever, and works up to three very slowly. Joel leans down to your cheek and murmurs the nicest things to you, telling you how nice you feel, thanking you for being so kind to him.

“So patient with me, baby. Don’t know why you are, but it’s so kind,” he says quietly as he curls his fingers in you. They feel so much bigger than your own, but they fit fine. Fuller than you’re used to, but fulfilled in a new way. The feeling chokes your breath and all you can do is whimper softly at him, eyes wide.

“M’gonna be makin’ up my mistakes for a long time to you, an’ not just like this,” he promises, slowing his movements but making them more deliberate, a little harder. Nothing is burning like it usually does, there’s no sting of pain, it’s just a melting pot of pleasure between your legs as he gives himself to you and you to him.

“Is that okay with you? Is it okay if I wanna make this up to you for a long time?” Joel asks.

You know what he’s asking. You know you want it too, you know you haven’t felt this wanted since you moved to Texas, probably even before. Nothing has felt like this in your life, and he’s requesting you to have it.

“Yes, yes, Joel, that’s okay with me,” you say.

He leans down and kisses you once, then lets you scoot up and over on the bed so you can fumble in your drawer for the lube. Your hand passes over a silicone toy in your bedside table and you smile at the fact that it will soon be long abandoned as you pass the lube to him.

“Might be cold,” Joel warns before pouring some onto his fingers and applying it to you.

Then, he applies some to himself and settles comfortably between your legs. He drags the head of his cock over your hole and up to your clit, like a teasing warning. He had felt big in your palm before, but he feels even bigger now. He was right to prep you.

Finally, he notches himself and slowly pushes in, letting your locked ankles on his lower back guide the speed at which he slides in. Joel is breathing really heavily, and when he finally feels his pelvis meet yours, he collapses down onto his elbows.

“Fuck,” he cusses.

It feels better than you thought it would. He’s big, but not so much that you want him to pull back a little. You physically feel as comfortable and fulfilled as he makes you feel emotionally.

“So good, oh my god–” you sigh softly, hands reaching up and catching his curls in your fingers. You drag him down, your beautiful boy, and kiss him gently.

But he isn’t moving. You can feel his thighs shaking and how he’s still breathing heavily.

“Hey,” you start softly after pulling back from the kiss, but he shakes his head.

“If I move I think– I think I’m gonna come,” he sputters out embarrassedly.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry baby. You’re just so fucking pretty and it’s been so long and you feel so goddamn good, I don’t know, I can’t move.”

His nose is near enough to yours that you can brush them together, nuzzling the side of his face.

“Joel it’s okay, I’m not going to be upset,” you tell him. It’s oddly sweet for him to have such an overwhelming reaction to you.

“No, I know that I just… I really wanna make you come. I wanna feel it," he admits.

And so you wait. Your unending patience seems to extend to him again in this moment and you lay there kissing him until he can finally begin to move at an even pace.

It’s so worth it.

Joel is so loving as he fucks you, with deep thrusts as he groans and bites at your neck tenderly. His hands come up and palm your breasts, rolling his thumbs over his nipples as he tells you how pretty you are, how grateful and sorry he is.

He apologizes a lot. For the party, for his distance, for how stupid he was to not see how beautiful you were from the day you moved in next door. He’s noisy and apologetic as he keeps a stable pace as he fucks you into your mattress.

Your mind is entirely fucked for him. You’re whimpering and mewling beneath him, babbling “it’s okay,” and “i forgive you,” everytime he says he’s sorry. Why is he even sorry anymore? Can’t he tell how much you love this?

The more he talks the closer you get, your body clenching around him as he buries himself deep repeatedly. The stable pace he set should ground you, should keep your head on your shoulders, but it’s actually making it worse. You don’t need it any faster or harder than he’s giving it to you, not with how noisy he is, and how attentive his hands are.

“Do you forgive me?” he rumbles into your ear, dropped on one elbow as his other hand is reached down and gently rubbing your clit.

You nod desperately, accidentally knocking your head into his. It makes him laugh, asking “yeah?” as he continues to pin his hips into your own.

“I forgive you, Joel, I swear,” you choke out weakly.

“Then will you come for me, honey? Please?” he asks.

It’s maybe the dirtiest thing he’s said all night, or maybe it just feels like it in the heat of the moment, but it sends you over the edge right away. You spasm around him and claw at his broad back, gasping for air and squeaking out noises you haven’t made before. Tears prick at your eyes as he works you through it with his fingers and cock.

“Fuck, yeah, there you are baby, that’s a good girl. God– Can I come? Is that okay?” Joel asks once you start to come down. You’re still in your head enough to nod, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips.

It doesn’t take long at all, you’re surprised he was able to last as long as he did with everything considered. Joel takes less than a minute before he’s pulling out and letting out deep grunts and breaths as he comes on your tummy, looking down at you with adoring eyes.

“Thank you, thank you baby, God.” He huffs out as he catches his breath. He’s kneeling between your legs with his chest puffing.

He continues thanking you as he cleans you up with a washcloth. You had to guide him to it by yelling instructions as he walked on shaky legs to your linen closet, not wanting to spill his mess everywhere.

Once you’re finally cleaned up, he nestles into bed with you. Your head lays on his still clammy shoulder as he tucks you beneath his arm and presses kisses to your hairline.

“M’so grateful for you, darlin’, I hope you know that,” he mumbles to you.

You tell him that you know, that he just proved it to you, and he laughs. The noise is so warm in your room, like it was meant to be there.

“Okay, that’s fair, but if you need anything else,” he tells you.

A thought does pop into your mind, but it doesn’t seem totally appropriate. You’re enjoying this peaceful moment with Joel, in your quiet room. His hand is tapping its fingers on your stomach, squeezing the flesh once or twice.

You decide not to say anything, but your tummy does. She growls loud and proud, forcing an embarrassed blush onto your face.

“Um… I think I’m kinda hungry,” you admit.

—

That’s how you and Joel end the night, in the kitchen.

You’re sitting on your countertop while he leans against it about a foot away. The paper plate that Ellie loaded up with cake is sat between the two of you, and your forks steal big lumps out of it.

Joel has frosting in his moustache, but it looks so cute there that you don’t have the heart to tell him. Instead, you just lean over and kiss him.

“N’ what was that for?” He asks through a mouthful of cake.

You just giggle and shrug, admiring him.

“I just like you,” you tell him.

He looks like he might roll his eyes, but instead he steps closer to you and kisses you on the cheek. You can feel the residue of the frosting on your skin.

“Yeah, I think I like you too, baby.”

i don't have a taglist, but i'll just tag people who commented on texas sweet :p @mochamadeleines @pascalssbabyy @taeslarityy @stefanibear003 @slutty-express @theweedisasterxoxo @knockk0ut @axshadows @lumpatto @aquanatalie @peekyourinterest @moel-jiller @ghostofzion @joeylovestofu @hellishjoel @pedropeach @pawnshopb1ues

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlouhbo #pedroverse #ellie writes

2K notes · View notes