#since it’s supposed to look like it’s from the 40s

[lylethewaterguy]

I’m gonna (attempt to) sew my own Hal Jordan flight suit cosplay, but I don’t know what style I should go for (any alteration suggestions are very welcome)

[dykedvonte]

You wanna talk about House and Benny? Let’s talk about House and Benny. Let’s talk about how House says he saw Benny as a son figure ans a rightful successor to the strip. Let’s talk about how Benny was so charmed by House’s offer that he literally killed a man to get the position to agree to it. Let’s talk about how House was intentionally priming Benny and regrets not doing better, not for the wasted time but of Benny’s wasted potential, how it was misplaced. Let’s talk about how Benny didn’t question House’s leadership until the guy started going radio silent. Let’s talk about House and Benny:

[navybrat817]

Just Like That

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier. Word Count: Almost 5k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, pining, flirting, slight possessive behavior, talk of undercover mission, "only one bed" trope, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: A combination of @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge and my Bucky Barnes Smut Menu, courtesy of @ellemj. "Only One Bed" Trope and the dialogue prompt in bold italics. ❤�� Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The engagement ring on your finger suited you. Not large or overly flashy, the single diamond radiated a subtle sparkle. It was beautiful and a perfect fit, a representation of the unifying love of marriage. When you looked at it under the light, it was almost as if you could feel the love that Bucky had for you.

If only that were the case.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” You asked, taking a seat at the table across from Bucky.

“So we can practice and make sure we’re a convincing couple,” he replied.

You sighed as you glanced around the hotel room for the umpteenth time. A small sitting area, a dining and kitchen combination, a single bathroom, and a bedroom. When you pointed out that there was only one bed, Bucky reminded you of the expectation that the two of you had to sleep together while on assignment since you were going on a couple's retreat. Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have a crush on him, right?

Right.

You were completely enamored with Bucky Barnes, the handsome former assassin turned agent for the revamped SHIELD. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Bucky, you aren't terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty.”

“You're talking to a guy who hasn't been on a real date since the 40s,” he deadpanned.

He had a point. Plus, from what you understood, Bucky wasn't exactly interested in dating anyone. Every time Steve or Natasha suggested he go on a date, he found a way to brush it off or change the subject.

Even if he was interested in dating, did he think of you as anything beyond a colleague?

Taking this assignment may have been a mistake.

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you said.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a week just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Bucky. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at a coffee shop. We both ordered the same drink.”

“An iced caramel macchiato,” he said.

“And we reached for the drink at the same time,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And I immediately asked you out,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “You did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went to dinner and talked a bit about ourselves. You told me you're a mechanic and I told you I’m a teacher. And once dinner was over, we went back to that same coffee shop and we shared an iced caramel macchiato.”

“Even proposed to you at the same shop,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone.

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, it just would've been nice if we met at a coffee shop,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“What’s wrong with how we met?” He asked, crossing his arms.

The metal arm gleamed under the light. You noticed that he had a tendency to wear long sleeves and gloves whenever he was in the building, but seeing him with his sleeve pushed up and missing glove? You would almost say he was comfortable around you.

Again, he had to play the part right.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. “Do you not remember what happened or are you just being nice?” You asked.

Months ago, the day you met Bucky, Steve informed you that he planned to introduce you to him after he came back from a long assignment. Not only were you excited to meet one of his best friends and a great soldier, but you had wanted to make a good impression on him. What you did was make an ass out of yourself when you turned the corner only to smack right into the former Winter Soldier.

And splattered your beverage on both of you in the process.

Instacrush and a horrible impression on your part.

Bucky’s lips curled in a smile as your eyes widened. “You do remember,” you said, wadding up a nearby napkin and tossing it at his face, which he easily caught. “Oh, my God! That’s why you chose ‘coffee shop' for this, didn't you?”

You concentrated so much on getting the backstory right that it didn't occur to you that he was maybe poking fun at you. He wasn't the kind of guy that liked making others feel bad though. Tease you, sure. Outright make fun of you at the risk of hurting your feelings? He would never.

“Hey, I didn't choose how we met, but I also didn't object,” he said, raising his hands in surrender when you went to throw another napkin at him. “And I wouldn't forget meeting you, doll. You make a lasting impression.”

You wished you had done something to make him remember you besides spilling a drink on him. “I guess making an idiot out of myself is a lasting impression,” you teased.

Something dark flashed in his eyes, making your breath hitch. “That’s not what I meant. You didn't make an idiot out of yourself and I don't like you thinking that or talking down about yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, not used to someone getting so defensive at your self-depreciation. There was something sexy and heartwarming about it. “You were very nice about the whole incident.”

“You were nice, too,” he said, gesturing to his torso. “I mean, you offered to buy me a new shirt.”

“Because I spilled my drink on it! I felt bad,” you said.

“And when I said you didn't have to buy me a new shirt, you said, ‘Are you sure I can't pay for the dry cleaning at least, Sergeant Barnes?’” he said in a falsetto voice.

He chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “I don't sound like that, first of all, and I was being considerate,” you said. You couldn't believe he remembered your exact words. “And you just gave me that half confused smile of yours before I grabbed napkins for both of us to clean up.”

“You mean this?” He asked, his lips stretching in that familiar awkward grin.

“Yeah, that,” you giggled, your heart doing that funny flip that happened far too often around him.

In the beginning, whenever you smiled at him, he gave you that very look in return. Somewhere along the way, the uncomfortable glances on his end became genuine fondness. It didn't mean anything though.

Just an agent being kind to another agent.

Bucky stared at you as you continued to giggle at the memory. “I’m sorry. I just-”

“I love your laugh,” he said, almost making you choke on your own breath. Nothing like forgetting how to be a human and breathe. “And your smile.”

Maybe he had switched back into practice mode. “You do?” You asked, playing along as you smiled directly at him.

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice thick as he unfolded his arms. “You know, you're one of the people that actually smiles at me. And you look me in the eye when you talk to me.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Because some people are still afraid of me,” he whispered.

Your heart sank. He was a good man. A hero wrongly painted as a villain. It wasn't fair what he went through and you had no reason to fear him.

Why couldn't everyone else see the good in him?

“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky,” you promised. And after what he went through, frightening people was the last thing he would do. “Never have been. Never will be.”

“Maybe you should be,” he muttered, some of the light leaving his eyes.

Your eyes narrowed as you tempered the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Seeing this vulnerable side of him also brought out your protective instinct. “Listen to me. You’re amazing and a good man, okay? And if I don't get to call myself an idiot for spilling a drink on you, then you don't get to say I should be scared of you, Sergeant Barnes,” you said with an air of finality.

He gave you an impressed smile. “Just like that? Because those are totally different things you're comparing.”

“Just like that,” you said, putting your hand on the table for him to take if he wished. “Do you trust that I'll have your back on this mission? Because I trust that you'll have mine no matter what.”

He stared at your upturned hand for a moment before he took it. “You're one of the only people I do trust,” he admitted.

His eyes bore into yours as you tried to find the words to respond. He wasn’t feeding you a line to make you feel good about yourself. Bucky Barnes trusted you.

“Then trust me when I say we got this,” you promised. You would look out for him and let him know that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in you.

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

“Oh. Well. My last boyfriend dumped me for being an agent. Seriously, he didn't like the fact that I could kick his ass if I wanted to,” you told him, squeezing his hand without meaning to. He didn’t object. “Which I wouldn't.”

“You could kick my ass if you wanted to,” he winked. Physically, Bucky was broad and strong. You weren’t sure you could take him in a real fight, but you could take him another way if he ever offered. “And your ex sounds like an asshole if he can’t stand beside and support an amazing woman.”

You smiled humorlessly. “Thanks, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“I swear to fuck if you talk down about yourself again, I will put you over my knee,” he threatened, his eyes darker than they were seconds ago.

You didn’t laugh as he stared at you. Neither did he. Your clothes suddenly felt too heavy, your body too warm. Licking your lips, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Is that a promise?”

Bucky pushed his chair back and pointed at his thigh, his eyes still on you. “Get over here and find out.”

Oh, fuck.

The sound of Bucky’s phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,” he muttered, taking his hand from yours. “It’s Steve. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” you said, almost knocking the chair over as you stood. “I think I'm going to call it a night.”

“Wait, what?” He asked, answering the phone. “Hold on, punk,” he said, covering the screen as he looked at you. “You’re going to bed now?”

Guilt settled in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. “Just going to lay down. I may not go to sleep right away. And we can practice more in the morning,” you replied. You just needed to step out of the room and take a breath.

He waited a beat before he nodded, the tension still lingering. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, leaving him alone so he could talk to Steve.

You splashed a bit of water on your face when you went to the bathroom to change. The assignment hadn’t started and you couldn’t keep your cool. With squinted eyes, you pointed at your reflection and mentally scolded yourself. Yes, you wanted Bucky Barnes and maybe, just maybe, some part of him wanted you. At least, he wanted you enough to put you over his knee.

You couldn't have him though. Could you? Mixing business with pleasure could lead to complications if you crossed that line, but it wasn’t like you’d break some major bylaw by being his girl.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Get your shit together,” you hissed, rushing through your nighttime routine and changing into your comfortable yet sexy nightgown.

Your eyes went to the bed when you left the bathroom. Just a regular hotel bed. Inviting, but not overly frilly. Large enough for the both of you, but small enough that you might end up in each other’s arms.

“It’s going to be a long night,” you muttered.

Sighing, you left a light on for Bucky to see and crawled into bed, shutting your eyes as he wrapped up his call with Steve. You tried to block out the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe his nighttime routine would take a bit longer than you thought and you could drift off and wake up to the sight of his beautiful eyes and-

The bed dipped as Bucky curled up behind you, your eyes opening when he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. You were conscious of every shift in his body, every breath he took. How you could smell his lingering cologne as he pressed himself closer. How he ran warmer than you and you wanted him to heat you up even though you weren’t cold.

And that he wasn’t wearing a fucking shirt.

“I know you aren’t sleeping,” he whispered, his fingers brushing along the fabric that covered your skin. “Your heart’s beating too fast.”

He was right. It was about ready to burst through your chest. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” He asked, helping you roll over so you were on your back. He didn’t remove his hand though. “Did my ‘threat’ make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it didn't,” you assured him, heat pooling between your legs that you couldn't prevent. “I wouldn't have continued with the banter if I was uncomfortable.”

“Just making sure,” he said. “I was only teasing.”

You huffed out a laugh in an effort to cover up the crushing feeling in your chest, your arousal fading to a dull ache. “Of course, you were,” you uttered. Teasing. Nothing more. “Good night, Bucky,” you said, turning your head away.

He brought a hand to your cheek and brought your face back toward him. How did his eyes look so blue in the faint light? “Don’t go to sleep yet, please.”

“Why not?”

“You rushed to bed and now you're shutting down. I clearly said or did something wrong,” he sighed, which made you feel bad. He hadn't done anything wrong in your eyes since it wasn’t his fault you wanted his teasing to mean something. “I need to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix because you didn't break anything,” you said, the ring heavy on the finger. “But can I ask for a favor?”

“Of course,” he whispered.

You didn’t dare search out his gaze when you said, “I may need reminders this week that you don't actually have feelings for me.”

A few seconds went by before he asked in a small voice, “What?”

You took a breath to compose yourself. The last thing you needed to do was get upset for no good reason. “We’re going to hold hands and cuddle and share a bed and be a couple, but you may need to give me a reality check now and again that you only see me as an agent. Okay?”

Maybe he’d ask Steve for a new partner in the morning.

“You think I only see you as an agent?” He asked, sighing when you nodded. “I used to be good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Teasing. Flirting,” he answered, leaning in close. He stopped just before his lips touched yours. “Kissing.”

“Wait. You were flirting with me?” you said, not moving forward or back as you put a hand on his chest. His heart raced as fast as yours. And your brain couldn’t compute that implication that he wanted to kiss you. “You weren’t just practicing for the assignment?”

He huffed out a laugh this time. “You’re killing me, doll,” he whispered, closing the distance.

You imagined Bucky kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered.

You never stood a chance.

“So, you like me?” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole week together for this assignment and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and trusting you.” He chuckled almost shyly as his words sank in. “I took this assignment because of you.”

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Bucky Barnes liked you. Wanted you. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the super soldier was an entirely different level of gorgeous. He towered over even the largest of agents, with the exception of Steve, and his dark lashes framing his steel eyes were enough to pull you under.

And who were you compared to him? Just another agent. Average.

“Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth.

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He smirked against your skin before he reached down and tore your panties away. “I haven't gone on a date because of you.”

Your body throbbed with need as you met his gaze. “You're just saying that to get in my pants,” you joked.

His eyes raked down your body, stopping between your trembling thighs as he pushed his pants and underwear down. “If I had my way, I would've taken you out first,” he said, drawing a moan from you when he wrapped a hand around his thick cock. “But all I can think about right now is how loud you’ll say my name when I make you come.”

“Bucky,” you moaned, tempted to reach down and touch yourself to the sight of him.

“Louder than that,” he said smugly, rubbing the tip of his cock along your slick folds. “Fuck, I wanna take my time and explore you. Make you feel like a goddess. Treat you the way you deserve.”

It warmed your heart and sent another wave of desire through you knowing he wanted to take care of you. “I know you'll treat me well,” you smiled, opening your legs wider. “But for now, please, fuck me.”

He didn't ask about birth control, which you were on. You didn't ask about condoms. It didn't matter. You wanted to feel all of him.

You glanced down as he lined himself up, watching as he slowly eased into you. It was overwhelming as you took every inch, your mouth falling open with a moan. You floated in a cloud of lust, the sound of his groan reaching your ears.

“Look at me,” he ordered as he bottomed out.

Your eyes flew to his as he gripped your chin. The feel of him inside you, his eyes staring so intently into yours that he practically touched your soul. It was almost too much. And that was when he began to move, the weight of his body on top of yours as he fucked you in slow and deep thrusts. It was the kind of lovemaking that would make you crave more.

Crave him.

“Knew you'd take me well,” he grunted. You whined, the praise going straight to your core as you tightened around his thick cock. Your walls couldn't stop gripping him as he slid in and out. “Knew your pussy would be greedy for me. Won’t let me go.”

Your head fell back against the pillow, dizzy as he trapped your body under his. As he rolled his hips, you wondered if he’d let you ride him at some point. Maybe he’d fuck up into you as he brought your hips down. Or maybe he’d lay back and cup your breasts, let the weight bounce in his hands as you took all of him.

You’d take whatever he gave you.

The growing pleasure within you was like you were burning from the inside out, each movement from him stoking the flames. His low groans mixed with your whines, his thrusts increasing in speed when he brought his thumb to your clit. Your hand worked its way back into his hair as you cried out his name, your control slipping further and further away as he took over.

“Just like that,” he moaned. “Don’t hold back on me. Wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”

“Bucky, I'm gonna…” you trailed off, your orgasm building fast in your core and ready to burst.

“Come,” he finished for you, a filthy smirk on his face as he laced his fingers with yours.

One more thrust and you were gone, his name falling from your lips as you came. Your mouth stayed open as you spasmed, pleasure rushing from head to toe. You panted and didn't care if you'd ever properly breathe again. That was how good it felt.

“I’m close, doll,” he gritted, resembling a growl as he continued to fuck you and chase his release. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna own you.”

“Come inside me, Bucky,” you begged, watching through half-lidded eyes as his face contorted in ecstasy. It was such an erotic sight. “Please.”

He buried himself deep with a long moan as he filled you in hot, thick spurts, nuzzling his face in your neck when he finished. He said your name as he heavily breathed against your neck and it was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wrapped your arms around him when he stayed inside you, not at all bothered as your mixed release slowly trickled out.

You didn't want him to let you go.

“Well,” you huffed, a dopey smile on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I don't think we’ll have a problem convincing people we care about each other.”

He chuckled, kissing your warm skin. “And we won't have a problem sharing a bed,” he said, keeping you close as you yawned. “Sleep, doll. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, too,” you said, feeling him smile against you as you drifted off.

The delicious ache between your thighs was the second thing you noticed when you woke up. The first, of course, was Bucky’s arm and leg draped over you: warm, protective, perfect. He was still fast asleep, the blanket pooled around his waist, completely at ease with the world. You could get used to waking up like this.

You hesitated before you touched his cheek, not wanting to wake him as you kissed his forehead. You wished you had time to kiss every scar on his body and worship him the way he said he wanted to worship you. The two of you would have to leave the bed sooner or later. There was work to do.

“Mmm. Morning,” he said, his voice laced with sleep as he cracked an eye open.

“Morning,” you whispered, cuddling closer as he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed over the ring. The motion made you brush against his crotch and you were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath. You did it again, keeping your gaze innocent as he opened his eyes more and groaned.

Yes, there was work to do, but it was still early.

“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?” He teased.

“Yeah, I’m still horny,” you replied. Waking up next to him would arouse anyone. “Need you to fuck me again.”

“You won’t be able to walk if I fuck you again,” he smirked, rolling on top of you and digging his fingers into your waist.

“Should’ve known you’d be a cocky boyfriend,” you teased back, your heart thundering in your chest as he leaned down and skimmed kisses along your jaw. “Sorry, we didn’t put a label on this and there’s still stuff to figure out and the mission and-”

“Hey. Boyfriend, your man, whatever you want to call me, I’m yours,” he cut you off, his mouth drifting to your neck. “And I still owe you a date, got it? You’re my girl. You’re mine.”

“I'm yours,” you gasped when he nipped your skin hard enough to sting, his tongue soothing it after. You were his and he was yours. “So, we're a couple now? Just like that?” You smiled as he worked his way back to your lips.

Bucky answered you with a kiss. “Just like that.”

I struggled a bit with this one after having to scrap almost 2k and go in another direction, but I ended up falling in love with it. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[inkedbybarnes]

unclear

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: everyone thinks you're dating bucky, except yourself.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni. miscommunication (i love this trope, sue me), angst with a happy fluffy ending, quite stubborn reader, implied smut if you squint, usage of petnames such as baby and doll. lowercase for basically everything.

i haven't finished anything in decades, but i suddenly had an idea just now and decided to write it down. surprisingly, i finished it? might have a lot of mistakes and such since i haven't proofread it yet. also, sorry for using lowercase for this, i kinda like how it looks. hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you're confusing me. so... you're not dating bucky?”

wanda tilted her head, confusion etched on her face as you spent your weekly girl's night with natasha. it usually consisted of eating food you all desired, drinking until you got wasted, and spilling secrets to one another.

although tonight, you weren't sure if you had any secrets to spill.

"as far as i know, no. we're just friends, teammates. nothing else," you answered with a heavy sigh. "can we talk about something else?"

"hold your horses, young lady! we are not skipping this topic again. you obviously want a label but he isn't giving you one!" wanda protested. she has been constantly asking about you and bucky's relationship for the past weeks, and you always had the same answer. you don't know.

"have you never talked about it with bucky? he looks at you like you'd get lost if he looks away for a second. not a single soul in the tower would think that you're just friends," natasha interjected, taking another sip from the bottle of beer she held. she had a point, as always. "if he's just playing with you, which i highly doubt for barnes, then just end whatever that is. you deserve better than having doubts and confusion, babe."

you've tried asking him multiple times, but every attempt felt like you were stepping on his boundaries. after years of being controlled by hydra, you knew it was possible that he'd hate the feeling of being rushed and entering a relationship that could potentially feel like a cage to him.

but natasha was right. your "relationship" was no longer anything friendly. he sleeps in your bed, claiming he slept better in it, and wakes up beside you to shower you with kisses. none of you even tried to hide it after some time. you always cooked your meals and ate them together, casually feeding one another and stealing kisses in between. you even stopped going on dates and you had no idea if you were exclusive. you deserved to know what your relationship with bucky was, but you were too scared to lose everything once you asked.

"we're not dating. i only see him as a friend, so you can both stop worrying about me." you lied through your teeth, your chest aching as you realised how stupid this was. you sighed and faked a smile, shifting the attention to natasha. "so, tell me about your date with steve! how was the first ever date of captain america since the 40s?"

wanda was distracted by the question, immediately bombarding the now blushing widow with questions. on the other hand, your mind flew away for a minute, finally deciding to get an answer from bucky.

the annual ball that tony stark held for, well, nearly anyone, was nearing. you only had two weeks left, and you haven't even gone out to find something to wear. it was hard to find any motivation to do all that effort when the person you've been waiting to ask you as his date hasn't asked you yet.

although, bucky had a tendency to get shy and hold back. you knew that. so here you were, standing behind the doors to the gym, knowing that bucky would be training at this hour. you still haven't asked him the question you were supposed to ask him, so you decided to do it all at once.

after you've finished your small pep talk, you opened the door to enter the room and your first instinct was to search for bucky.

considering that he was a huge chunk of a man, he was easy to find. however, the sight of him standing in front of a woman that was too close for your comfort wasn't delightful.

he didn't see you entering the room since he was facing the opposite direction, conversing with the agent that happened to be training as well. she had the sweetest and flirtiest smile on her face, bringing her hand up to his arm, slowly caressing it. you didn't mean to easily hear their conversation as you walked closer.

"so, do you happen to have someone for me to have as a date for the ball? i don't want to be lonely on that night, sergeant," the agent said with an extra pout, swaying her hips side to side like a child asking for candy.

"oh, yeah? i think i have someone for you," bucky replied, breaking your heart into pieces with how enthusiastic he was with his answer. "i'm sure you'll—"

you sniffed. unconsciously. not knowing that your tears were already falling, causing your nose to get stuffy. how pathetic, you thought.

your little sniff caught the attention of both the agent and bucky, looking at you in shock. although, the girl was more pleasantly surprised than the opposite. thankfully, you already had your tears wiped before they could see them.

"oh, we didn't see you there!" she greeted you with your name. "we were just talking about our date for this year's ball. who are you bringing?"

"i haven't decided yet, no one's worth it even if i try," you answered bitterly. "so you're going together?"

before bucky could answer, the agent already had her arm wrapped around his, happily smiling at your question. "yeah! amazing, right? i actually thought you two had a thing, but i guess not. glad things worked out in the end."

and that was your last straw. "well, enjoy yourselves. i have to go and find natasha."

you turned to leave, ignoring the loud calls of bucky. you were glad that you never asked him about your relationship and the ball. you were going to be hurt either way.

you spent the next hours stuck in your room, body covered with a thick sheet as you ranted about your frustrations to friday.

it was silly, you knew that, but you refused to call natasha and wanda to remind you of your stupidity and decided to let an ai robot listen to your problems instead.

"and he even flirted back! answering coyly like a teenager. he's 107 years old, fri!" you whined, not noticing the new nickname you've given the alternative intelligence. "ugh, now i have a broken heart and no date in sight. how did it get to this?"

"perhaps you must discuss this matter with sergeant barnes first. your conversation ended quite abruptly with no clear conclusion."

"no, i don't want the truth rubbed on my face," you said, grabbing another piece of tissue to sneeze in. "you restricted him from entering my room, right?"

friday answered with a yes, then you thanked her for listening and decided to get some sleep after tirelessly crying for hours. you knew you had a team meeting with the avengers in a bit, but you couldn't bring yourself to even walk a few steps.

your sleep ended and you were woken up with friday's reminder that it was time for dinner with the team.

with a groan, you pushed yourself off your bed. bucky would be there, but you were too hungry to care. it would be awkward, of course, but you had to face him at some point anyway.

your feet padded towards the door, opening it after trying your hair in a bun.

"ah, fuck."

you jumped at the voice and the body falling to the floor as you opened the door.

"bucky?" you asked, still in shock. "were you sleeping outside of my room?"

you watched bucky stand up, his hand massaging his aching nape as he looked for your eyes. "friday won't let me in. i waited outside instead. i guess i fell asleep during that," he explained, a frown forming on his face. "did you restrict me from entering our room?"

your eyes widened at his choice of words. our room. he considered your room to be his room as well. while that would've made you melt in an instant, you were still hurt to entertain that possibility.

"this is my room, barnes. not yours, not ours. and yes, i had you restricted because i couldn't face you yet. what do you need anyway?"

"i wanted to see you, talk to you." a flash of pain crossed his eyes. "whatever happened at the gym, it's—"

"bucky, you don't have to explain anything to me. we're just friends. it's my fault i assumed we were something. i just need some time to get over it."

"but i thought we were something as well..." he replied, his voice was almost as quiet as a whisper. "i thought we were dating."

"were we?" you asked, genuinely curious. "we never.. you never said anything. i mean, yeah, i wished it meant something, but i thought you wouldn't want to be trapped in a relationship with me, so i just waited. apparently, i was right and i can't blame you for that."

"right about what? the thing that happened in the gym this morning?" he asked. you nodded in response. "i know it sounds like i was flirting back, well i didn't know at the moment, until i asked steve who was clueless but he called nat to help me out and explained that it looked like i was flirting back. i wasn't. i was just going to suggest sam as a date for her. i would never agree to anyone."

oh. so he just wasn't interested in anyone at all.

"besides this one girl who's constantly been in my head. that's if she'd even give me a chance and say yes. i fucked it up badly before i could even ask her properly."

you knew what hoping got you, but you couldn't help but think that he was talking about you. he'd have to be clueless to say all those things in front of you only for it to be someone else.

"i love you, baby. i should've told you that, i should've made it clear sooner. i'm so sorry i let you have doubts when i could've been reassuring you about what i feel for you."

"bucky..."

"i would never feel trapped with you, doll. only you made me feel so much love and freedom. i'd be a fool to let go of that. i'm sorry it took a few hits and harsh words from natasha to make me realise that i wasn't giving you enough when you deserve everything." he held your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him. you felt breathless, tears threatening to fall but this time it was out of joy. "hydra made sure i had no voice to express myself. now, i'll use it to let you know that i love you so fucking much that it hurts when you're not around. i promise to work on it. if anything like this happens again, ask me, baby. demand things from me. i'll give you everything in a heartbeat."

"even if i ask for your arm?"

he laughed, a sound that was music to your ears. "it's yours baby. although, i do like fucking you with my metal—"

"bucky!" you scolded him, hitting him lightly on the chest.

"sorry, baby. couldn't help it. missed my girl so much."

his girl. you loved hearing that.

"it's only been a few hours. don't be silly," you reminded him, but you knew you also felt the same.

"i miss you even when i don't see you for a second." you couldn't help but laugh at his words. "something funny, doll?"

"sorry, natasha said something similar about you a few days ago," you answered. "i'm sorry for assuming so quickly, bucky. you deserved the chance to explain."

"and you did let me explain. i can't blame you for assuming and getting hurt when i never gave you the confirmation to believe otherwise. don't apologise for it, baby."

"i love you," you said, causing him to grin widely.

"yeah? you love me too?" he asked, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "this is official now, right? we're dating?"

you nodded happily, giggling as he landed a kiss to your mouth. "so, you wanna go to the ball with me?"

he kissed you again. "don't. i'm supposed to be asking you that. i had an entire thing prepared for you, i even dragged half of the team to help me out days ago. besides wanda and natasha, of course. couldn't let them tell you about it."

your heart swelled, he was already planning to ask you before all of this misunderstanding happened, and it could've been solved with communication. lesson learned, indeed.

"well hurry because i can't wait to say yes," you playfully threatened him, kissing the tip of his nose until the loud rumble of your stomach interrupted your sweet moment. "ah, right. i was on my way to eat dinner when i opened the door."

bucky laughed, his eyes twinkling witth adoration as he kept his eyes on you. "we can't have you starving, that's for sure. come, let's get you something." he held your hand, and dragged you to the kitchen. he turned to look at you with a playful smile. "wanna cook together like the old times?"

you smiled. "like the old times."

in the middle of your cooking session, you heard whistles and claps along with the footsteps that entered the kitchen. you both turned to find the rest of the team with shit eating grins.

"finally! so is this real or do we need to smack your heads?" tony asked, his hand placed on his hip.

"it's always been real, stark," bucky answered, wrapping his arm around your waist. "except this time, i'm making sure my entire world knows it."

"i think everybody knows you have a thing for each other, barnes." clint added.

"i meant my entire world, not everybody." bucky looked at you with awe. "she's my world."

bucky's answer gained various loud reactions from the team, mostly calling him a cheesy old man and fake gags, but there you were, cheeks heating up as you looked back at him with the same amount of love, if not more.

and he did ask you to be his date to the ball the day after, surprising you with his so-called secret plan.

a year later, he surprised you with a ring as he knelt on one knee.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah. 

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!” 

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety. 

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets. 

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home. 

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows. 

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong. 

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look. 

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things. 

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow. 

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself. 

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though. 

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown. 

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.” 

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light. 

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know. 

So, you do. 

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t. 

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you. 

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think. 

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you. 

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate. 

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier. 

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts. 

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?” 

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you. 

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.” 

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout. 

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking. 

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright. 

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression. 

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind. 

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight. 

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself. 

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach. 

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan. 

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

-

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[deesseshesca]

PAC : Letter from your pregnant self. (18+)

Mama said it was ok ... mama said it was quite alright .

BUNDLE READINGS.

FUTURE LOVE + SEX DOUALA = 40$ (2for1)

✨ Down to My Core ✨

This Christmas, gift yourself clarity—a soulful journey to uncover your truth and step into the new year ready to rise. 🌙

CHARACTER UPDAPTE + LORE DUMP = 40$ (2for1)

🔥 Fire to the Moon 🔥

This Christmas, gift yourself the truth—a journey through soul ties, sexual desires, and cosmic connections. Uncover a new love story written in your stars and step into the new year with clarity and faith in love 🌙✨

PILE 1

It was supposed to be you pregnant but you came through in the hospital the evening after giving birth. You are actually talking to your baby girl.

‘’ Damn I thought it was early menopause. You should have seen my face when the doctor came back in the room after putting way too much finger in my hole. Honestly I should have guessed it when the nurse and the medical tech looked at each other with smirk while my husband and I were going crazy over my future illness. I hope you don’t hate me as I am holding you in my arms. I can’t help but admire you. I gave up on the idea of having my dream baby girl a long time ago. I know it is not fair I should have fought for you but I could not let the emptiness get to me. You know I have to be a mother to your big brothers. LOL! I remember their disgusted and concerned faces when I told them I was pregnant again. ‘’ Mama you are still doing the nasty’’ that’s what (the name of your second boy) said. Honestly I am not sure what I was expecting from anyone. The first thought that came to my mind is the fact that I am only in my mid 30. What the heck, for sure I love riding it. Actually been loving riding it. Since forever. He is the first man I ever trusted … the only I ever gave my heart. It was my first time after a very awful experience but I probably will never tell you about it but I will forever protect you against all thoses abusers out here. Ain’t no way they are touching my daughter  but your dad … he’s different. I am so happy I chose the right man to have my babies with. The way he looks at me with so much longing in eyes, the soft touch, waking me up everyday by getting your siblings ready and making my coffee so I can have some time for myself. The way he literally dedicated a whole wall in our house for pictures of our wedding like he doesn't already have 3 pictures of me and the kids on his desk at work, like he doesn't have a picture of us in his wallet and in his car. Sometimes I pinch myself when I cook and I look at my husband playing with my kids, being affectionate and their safe place because it was never like that. I never grew up like that. I used to wish on my lucky stars that I make it out of my abusive household and now I am thriving in an overabundant and loving household. Is not always easy because your dad has a demanding job but he will NEVER but none of y’all second. It doesn't matter if he is busy in a meeting or overseas, he always calls, answers texts, sends gifts, even writes letters. He always fixes his schedule to be at your siblings' competition. Honestly I am scared of the length he is ready to go for you. Actually all of them are ready to go to crazy length for you. Nah I am serious he organized the baby shower in a luxurious resort. The gender reveal happened on a helicopter ride before taking me to a 5 star hotel and showering me with gifts. Your siblings are always telling me to sit down, that they can do it, that I need to keep my energy and that they need to protect me . Damm… last time I checked I am the parent but I didn't talk back. Because miss girl you were not an easy pregnancy. High blood pressure, back pain, extreme moodiness and early labor. Like girls we get it … you were in a hurry to come to your palace but you did not have to do my body like that. Or maybe you punish me because I decided that I was infertile after a couple years with no success. I let you go. Stop fighting for you. You and your little button noise, smooth  forehead, full head of hair and pouty lips are more than worth it. This pregnancy did not feel real at first. I did not want to believe it. I was sure that it was a mistake or my blessing was going to be taken from me. Yeah… you trigger my old survival instinct. Thank God for you dad, holding my hand, telling me that everything is going to be ok  and allowing me to take my time accepting my truth. Validating how I feel because by the second semester I was more than overjoyed and confident. You are mine, my blessings and worth every ounce of goodness coming ... my precious miraculous babygirl.

XOXO

Your mama’’ 

So many nasty messages came through but y'all … I know you would never talk like that to your baby. 

The baby was created a random day after a cuddle fuck (for many anal cuddle fuck). After putting the kids to sleep, doing your night routine with your husband and cleaning the room (you don’t joke about that re-start routine because otherwise the mornings are way too chaotic in the morning) you bring yourself to the bed and decide to seduce your man with kisses and caress. Honestly it does not take a lot for your husband to be seduced by you. He and I love the fact that you still try to make marriage feel sexy with the booty shorts, sometimes having your makeup done, other times you go all out and have lunch at his work to tease him. You are litteraly his sexual fantasy like even when y’all are going to be more mature he's not going to look at younger girls (some people in this pile are scared that their husband will entertain younger girls. Never babe they are HOOK on you. Not just love or respect for the mother of their child. You have the pusy power over that mind. All he sees is you!). After a sweaty, loving but still rough session little miss finally came to you. 

You guys are going to have an amazing  sex life with your husband don’t worry your kids are never going to know (y’all get down. Y’all don’t mind calling the nanny to have ‘’sex weekend’’). In the adult world the way y’all look at each other, joke with each … you guys chemistry (y’all just look the fuck good together) people know you fucking fucking. 

Also if you read : PAC : Your dream reality, there's also glimpse of the same future channeled.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 2

‘’ Bitch WTF ! You know what life got me fucked up in all type of way. Almost like God wanting to make a joke out of me. As I am speaking, I am sitting in this comfy couch in my living living in my house,  fat as fuck, mean mugging my husband. You heard me right. HUSBAND ! I don’t even know when that shit happens. Like when did I fell in love. I mean I was never against love but think about it. Living in your dream house, enjoying yourself and you are waking up turning to your side and you see a big fat head. Let me tell you, it is not between your thighs. Nah is cuddling and calling you ‘’honey’’. EW GET THE FUCK OFF ME. It was supposed to be only a FWB but you know how men move when they have a taste of this punani. They be hearing colors, seeing starts and talking in tongues , thinking I can heal their attachment issues. Ok let me give credit where it is due … he was actually different. He made me do things I don’t usually do like talking about my feelings, eating 3 times a day and being affectionate. I swear I never gave as many hug as I did with him. LOL ! From all the billion penises on this planet I had to fall in love with the clingy one. He loves hugging me, kissing me … just being stuck on me. Before I knew it I had a ring on my finger. I even kissed him in front of my damm family. Like I am a bad bitch, a  cold ass bitch, a cool hoe not basic lucy that’s all love and light. Guess he was so good to me that I said ‘’Yes I do’’. That I could forgive. I could understand the house, the ring, the love and partnership but the baby … the baby. THE DAMM FUCKING BABY. You know what is going to do to my dream body and my mom is talking about a second one. Babe hell nah to the nah nah. This hourglass figure is not going to waste. Somewhere I guess it is my fault … Ok … So what shoot me … I LOVE SEX. I LOVE WHEN HE HITS RAW. Is that so wrong? I hate birth control… bitch my opp frl. ALways trying to give me acne or making me fat. What about him and his breeding kink ? Don’t look at me like that. I always liked it rough and nasty but … the consequence. I did not think … Bitch I am only a girl. I am a teeneager in her late twenties. Like somebody called Dr.Phil … I am losing it ! I guess I would have been more careful but there’s something about having my hair pulled, my body bound, my pussy being overstimulated and having his big dick pounding into me while we are listening  to chase the Atlantic that’s going to do it every time. Let me tell you something … this man is obsessed with my body. I was scared … you know, we always had body dysmorphia but I think my husband healed me. He can’t take his hand off me. LIKE CAN’T ! I can’t not be in a room with only him (funny since y’all living together …) always slapping my fat ass. Sneaky his hand in my full breast. That one time I was in bikini waddle around I genuinely think he was going to fuck me in the pool while the neighbor were in their backyard. We all know how vocal I am and how rough he is. Confession I still like it fucking rough ... Actually  I like it rougher. I am officially insane. There must be something wrong with me. One minute I am like ‘’aww my baby is going to be an awesome dad’’ and the very next fucking though be like ‘’ I want him choke me and force himself into me’’  and it be a front of people. Fucking embarrassing. This pregnancy hormone made me waddle around like a horny sick teenager. Anyway let me go … I was teasing him earlier. You know how bratty I can get. But now I want it ! Bye babe … I need to hop on my ride.

XOXO

Your homegirl''

I swear pile 2, y’all so fucking cute. Y’all may be the youngest of your family or friend group. Like nobody even though you would get married or even have kids. Like you don’t hate kids but you love scaring them and every time one cries you laugh. Second, y'all love to yell at men. Every time you see a man, attitude is 100%. You are so spoiled and you don’t want to share. So the thought of having to share even a spoon with even your fav muncher is weird. You guys are the personification of the sound: ‘’ WHY WOULD A MEN BE HERE ? WHY WOULD A MEN BE HERE ?’’. You guys are also the personification of women dominating male fields. You be hating on men but still fuck them because that’s all they worth (LOL GO QUEEN !). You look the fuck good and don’t play abut your beauty regiment and sleep. 

You love your husband and you are in love with your baby but affection is not something that comes easy to you. That doesn't mean you are mean, you just show love in different ways. You more an act of service (I can’t with y’all… I just heard ‘’ Good head should be enough to show I care … Don’t be greedy. Beggar cannot be choosy’’ No because PERIDOT) like cleaning, cooking, organizing, showing support, being dependable or gift giving. You always find him the best gift. 

All this to say you play though but there is a big teddy bear inside of you that is sooo happy by the way your life took a twist but fucking confuse at the same time. Sometimes you wake confused like the girl in 17 turning 30 movie. Not that you hate your life actually you love it but WTF. 

I am hearing ‘’ Rue… when was this ?’’.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 3 

‘’ LOL…Let’s thank God for the bathroom at the restaurant. Honestly I don't even know how we sneak in together and nobody said anything. I lowkey think the server had our back  because when I finally came back  after sending my husband out before me to act as normal as possible. The server brought the bill with a smirk and my baby tipped him big. Honestly I don’t regret it. He could not resist the sight of me since my makeup was perfectly done, hair blown out in perfect curls, smelling Bararat Rouge, short black dress tight on my snatch body (thank God for the workout routine I follow religiously). Honestly I am surprised he waited that long … I kind of did need to push him the fuck off me, multiple time while we were getting ready. Now I understand Bella and Edward because honeymoon energy makes you want to do it  EVERY TIME AND ANYTIME. Like how am I supposed to ignore my man when he  looks all good in his suits after he paid for the whole trip and booked this exclusive restaurant in Paris just a front of the Eiffel tower and he gave me red bottoms earlier this evening. Fuck even when we are together he keeps tricking on me. Now here we are, gel on my stomach, belly round and big and my hand in his. Swear I never saw such a big and tall guy, literally a giant being so excited like a literal kid on Christmas morning over the new addition in the family. I told him to wait before he got the name of the baby tatted because you never know what could happen (God forbid …). I never saw him in such distress when I said this. His eyes floated  with tears, he hugged me tighter, kissed my neck and whispered: ‘’ You don’t think we deserve this happiness ? or maybe you regret having this with me’’. I hug him and cry. That is my self doubt … God does my self doubt and his abandonment issue always makes us cry in each other's arms in the most gut wrenching way. Fuck self doubt … I am prepared , my doctor got our back, my baby is healthy and I am going have my fucking happy ending. I want it all, I deserve it all and I am having it all. 

XOXO

Your Fav Sugar Mama''

You guys have moneyyyy. Like yes your man has money but babe you are very much giving boss babe. You probably have or are working towards having a very demanding degree. Let me tell you something … whatever field you try to get into (I think it's very competitive) you are/will be dominating. 

Also this letter was completely off intuition … I did not pull any cards but don’t worry let’s get to the extra messages. 

Funny enough y’all may be fucking like beast in mating season before pregnancy but after that everything is going to die down. I think both of y'all have a soft exhibition kink because y’all really don’t care who hears you or sees you. While you are pregnant he is still very loving and he still think you are stunning but y’all prefer missionary, love making, cuddle fuck, being in the bed, doing it on the couch. I see a lot of loving gaze coming from them. Like they look at you  like you are the walking definition of love. So much tenderness and longing just by the way they look at you. Also they change the tone of their voice when speaking to you. Is never loud even when they are mad. When they know they are about to get mad, they sit down, take a breath and speak. Is like a routine . NEVER NEVER want to scare you or hurt you. He really is a gentle giant. When it comes to YOU. Only for you. Also if I stick to my vision, you are definitely the one that decorated the apartment. I am getting a condo, penthouse or luxurious apartment in a busy city for your house. 

They are going to be even more possessive when you are pregnant. Babe that pregnancy glow is going to do wonders for your skin. You look the fuck good. Hair is long and healthy plus is shiny. Breast sitting pretty and is full. Hips wider and the way you walk is having everyone hooked. Some of y’all have a heel addiction and you are not going to give up heels just because of a baby and that is going to make you look extra sexy. Every time you are going to try to film yourself for fun or to post,  they are going to make their presence known. Also every time y’all outside, they always have a hand on your stomach. Damn y’all already pregnant with his seed… what more does he want from you. Like sir … your territory  is already marked. You're going to love every moment of it. Cheesy like a kid because your man is even more obsessed with you. 

You are going to leave work much earlier. Not because of any health issue. From what I am understanding, y’all never took a break. Always school, work, internship, engagement, big girl job, moving in and marriage. Like is time for you to take moment and just live for the fuck of it. 

At some point y’all may not have sex. Because your man does not want to hurt you. You may actually take it well because you feel like it is going to build a big sexual anticipation for next time. So y’all are having your own version of No Nut November. 

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 4 

‘’ Damm I never felt so powerful. Maybe people are gatekeeping pregnancy because they don’t want you to feel this good. Nah I am kidding. First trimester dragged me around and snatched my wig. I spend more time hugging the toilet bowl than my Baby. The headache and extremely sensitive tits, let’s not forget the hair thinning. Anyways the power I have over my Baby is insane. I am not talking about ‘’yeah is for the baby’’. Nah is like the man is hypnotized by my every move. I could tell him to jump off the roof and I am convinced with enough flirting tactics he will do it. He  does it all for me before I even ask sometime before I even think about it, he already did it. He is serious about our baby's future, opening a savings account. For the baby shower, when everyone left he told me he brought our baby investment stocking. He already put money away for his car and university loan. He already looked at a private elementary school and we might hire a cook. I have never been much of a chef but he wants our kid to have it all. The tutor, the chef, the trust fund … oh my baby boy is about to be born on a diamond plate. The way I am treated is almost like I am carrying the next world prophet. I can't wear leggings, my heels need to be a certain inch, camera are on, all time because my Baby needs to be checking that I am always safe. Don’t want me to fall down the stairs or faint in the shower which actually happened . That’s why I can’t get mad at him when his crazy protective side comes out because the end of our journey almost came too quickly.  I have a chauffeur and 24/7 maid. Fuck I am birthing the next royalty. What’s wilder is I feel fucking sexy pregnant ? I can spend hours looking at myself in intricate lingerie. Everything is right and the weight gain looks the fucking good on me. I look womanly. Idk … all my life I've been quite petite. Always looking younger than my age. I always wanted to put on some weight but people around always told me to embrace since so many try to be skinny but sitting down in my black lace robe while getting ready in the morning reinforced  my need for weight. My tits are firmer and fuller, hips are wider and my butt has a gorgeous hump to it. I love the feeling of having my thigh touching. What’s even more insane is my crazy dom husband love when I am taking charge in the bedroom. He loves it when I wake him with a handjob while speaking of my rule in my soft voice. I always knew my voice had power over him, the man almost bust a nut in his sweat the first time  I called him. Now he worships me, he can spend hours eating on my clit, sucking on my thighs and playing on my tits. The other day he was heavily leaking precum while giving clit orgasm after orgasm while I was getting ready for my day. Begging me to put the tip in and sometimes I say ‘’no’’ just to see his reaction and the man whimpered and begged. LOL ! What’s less funny is that my mom decided to become more of hater than she already is. I took my distance from her, my husband hates when I talk to her because I always end up crying but she found out that I had a baby shower. She burst screaming in my house. Everything got handle and my husband did take legal charge but fuck … I just want my mother rn. Once again she let me down. 

XOXO

Yours Truly''

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

[aakeysmash]

college!sukuna would have you as a sugar baby: exam season edition

college!sukuna masterlist

“You know what, I should just drop out,” you ramble, pacing in your living room, hair disheveled and a pencil behind your ear.

Sukuna just hums, sitting on the sofa while munching on chickpea chips he bought the other day saying that “protein is protein”.

“Or or or… I should find a rich man! Yeah, I should be a sugar baby,” you continue, and he just nods, mindlessly scrolling through the tv channels.

“At least I would be happy with my ass on a yacht. Hey, do you think I have sugar baby material?” You ask him, stopping for a second, thinking. All you get as an answer is a grunt. “Sukuna? Are you even listening to me?” You wave your hand in front of the tv. That catches his attention, but only for a mere quarter of a second.

“What?”

You sigh, exasperated. “Why am I even talking to you?”

“Do a spin,” he says, lowly, still not sparing you a glance, putting a bunch of chips in his mouth. You’re so out of your mind that you actually do, and when you turn around his eyes are on you for the first time since you started talking 30 minutes ago. 30 minutes of straight whines. He’s giving you a once over, gaze fixed over how your oversized sweater is falling from your left shoulder, letting him see the top of your boob. He imagines himself sucking exactly on that spot, your breath by his ear, his mark on your-

“Yeah, I’d pay for you,” he says nonchalantly, getting back to zapping.

“You would?” You say excitedly. “Wait. You would?” You add after a moment, taken aback, your face falling progressively. You whine again. “I’m never going to be a sugar baby,” you finish, sprawling out on the carpet near the sofa he’s sitting on, closing your eyes.

“Yo, I have taste, the fuck you mean?” He replies roughly, looking down at you and slightly kicking you in the ribs. Just enough to barely move you from your star-like pose. You open your eyes, looking up at his four ones, assuming a mocking face.

“Now do you?” You say, doubtful, rolling on your side before sitting up while he’s flipping you off. You’re face to face with his knees. Yeah, knees. Keep it PG.

He gets his elbows on said knees, putting his index finger under your chin to raise your face. “Yeah baby, I’d keep you as my prettiest whore if I had like 50 years more than I do,” he says. Then he immediately adds “But I don’t, so stop fucking complaining and let me watch my damn tv. It’s fucking Saturday, give me a break,” flicking your forehead and blowing on your face at the same time. He tastes like real chickpeas and you’re almost impressed by how the pack of chips didn’t lie about the ingredients. He sprawls back on the sofa, occupying as much space as he can by laying down on his side with one of his hands under his chin, returning to his chickpea chips with the other. You scrunch your face, then pout.

“Then what am I supposed to do? I can’t take 5 exams in a week,” you whine, getting your forehead on the little 7 inches rectangle that is left naturally near his chest.

“Suck it up, pussy boy,” he answers, bored. You’ve been going at it for what feels like an eternity and he’d already have lost his patience if seeing you miserable didn’t get a snort out of him. You turn your head to face him, hair all in your face from the movement, but you don’t have the strength to put it in a more comfortable position.

“You don’t get it,” you sigh, your features turning even more worried. You stay like that long enough to start dozing off (and seeing how sleep deprived you are lately, that’s about 40 seconds max), hearing him clean his hands. Suddenly, you feel his hand brushing on your cheek lightly, moving your hair behind your ear and away from your face.

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he tells you gruffly, scratching lightly on the top of your head. You hum. You know he’s right. He knows you know you’re capable of doing it. He gives your head a couple more pats before pushing it a bit.

“Go study and stop bothering me now. This tv ain’t gonna watch itself,” he says calmly.

You get up, nodding. “Thanks, man. I know I can always count on you for some backhanded comfort,” you reply, corners of your mouth turning upwards for the first time since exam season started (literally two days ago. Hey, you’re a smiley person!). He grunts, not looking at you again, and you know that’s all you’re going to get from him.

You get back in your room to study, and suddenly he finds himself losing interest in his chips in 15 minutes, the buzzing sound of the voices from the western movie he’s watching merely a background noise. Was it always so quiet when you weren’t around?

[alltheirdamn]

Diamond Dolls | Joel x stripper!f!reader

Chapter I : Diamond Dolls Club

Series Summary: Running from the past led you straight into the arms of club owner, Joel Miller. He’s quiet, respectful, and devastatingly handsome. He’s nothing like any man you’ve come across, and it’s so hard to keep your heart guarded when he’s tearing down the walls. Chapter Summary: After fleeing Miami, you find yourself a spot at Diamond Dolls, and meet Joel Miller. The man who can change everything. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 7.2k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, Joel is in his early 40s reader is in her mid-20s, mentions of alcohol, strip club setting, nudity, sexual tension, mutual pining, eventual smut, explicit language… more tags will be added as the story goes A/N: Well, a very belated hello to everyone! I've been in the darkest recesses of a writers block, and had to drag myself to the surface to finally finish this one out. It's a slow start, but it's something nonetheless. Anyway, love you all lots and i hope you stick around for this lil story <3 xoxo

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

One week ago

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. You were holed up in the bathroom of a shady hotel, listening to the sound of pleasured moans coming from the bedroom. Your friend, Diana, had been going at it with some stranger for the last half hour, and you were scared. Private parties were typical for the dancers. In fact, Richie loved it. He loved being the type of owner who showcased all his dancers in whatever way he pleased. But you knew something was off when you stepped out of the black Escalade and into the hotel lobby. This type of party differed from the rest; you had this nagging feeling it would all go wrong.

And it did.

**

The sound of heels rattling inside your bag drifted through the empty parking lot as you neared your last resort. Diamond Dolls. Your gas tank—and lack of money—only got you as far as Austin, Texas. It wasn’t an ideal place to end up, but beggars can’t be choosers, so it would have to suffice. 

It was early afternoon, no doubt the slowest time of day since only a handful of cars were parked in the lot aside from yours. With the sun still shining, the neon pink lights of the sign above the door were turned off, but it still looked inviting. Diamond Dolls was already far different than your club back in Miami; it was different in a good way. 

At least, you hoped it was.

Cracking open the front door, you shuffled your bag over your shoulder and took a deep breath. This was your only shot at putting your life back on track, and you prayed you’d be given the chance to set things right. You couldn’t go back to Miami. Not now…not ever. The bridges you burnt could never be rebuilt; running away would only take you so far. 

A few patrons turned their heads your way when the sun streamed through the hazy club, no doubt an annoying reminder that the world still existed outside this tiny place. The entire club was drenched in low neon blacklights, the purple and pink hues painting the shadows in a sultry ambiance. Above you, diamond chandeliers hung from the ceiling, twinkling lights refracting off the gems that clung to the metal branches curving upward. The black leather couches around the stage were shiny and clean, another sign that this club was far better than where you came from. 

High-top tables scattered the open areas in the club's corner, tiny tea lights flickering on their marbled counters. Everything was meticulously detailed, as if whoever owned it had put all their effort into making this space unique and beautiful. 

Across the back was the bar; the counter stretched from end to end with an array of liquors stacked on glass shelves that hung from the wall. Behind the counter was a lone bartender busying himself with cleaning glasses. 

Perfect, you thought. This was your opportunity. 

“Hey,” you cautioned, walking up to the black countertop. “I was wondering if you guys are taking in any new dancers.”

“Can’t say for sure,” the bartender shrugged. 

He had a snug black top stretched across his chest and dirty blonde hair that stuck back along his scalp with too much gel. A few tattoos marked up his forearms, disappearing under the cuffs of his shirt and reappearing along the column of his neck. Instinctively, you knew he was well paid by any female clients who came into the club late at night. A few drinks and maybe a few flirtatious conversations made him a wealthy man by the end of his shifts. 

“Who should I be asking then?” You questioned, tapping your nails along the edge of the counter.

The bartender glared at your nails as they tapped repeatedly on the counter. You retracted your hand with an apologetic look, letting your arm hang heavy at your side. He bristled at your presence, obviously unamused by your friendly antics. Charm wouldn’t work here…noted. 

“Joel’s up in his office. Why don’t y’go bother him.”

“Joel…” You echoed.

“The owner?” He cocked a brow, almost annoyed that you didn’t know who Joel was. 

Obviously, you didn’t fucking know.

“Gotcha,” you nodded. 

The bartender slung the drying rag over his shoulder, retiring the glass he had been cleaning to the other stack of dishes. He pointed down the hall near the stage toward the black-painted door to the right. 

“You’ll find him in there,” he said.

You muttered a quick thank you before walking down the hall and past wandering eyes. Smoothing down your hair, you inhaled sharply before rapping your knuckles against the door. 

“Come in!” A deep voice called out.

You timidly turned the doorknob, peeking your head around the door with a sheepish smile. An older man, probably no more than forty, leaned back in a leather chair. He had on a simple black button-up, the sleeves rolled up his tan arms, exposing the muscles and veins that spidered from his fingers to his biceps. You lifted your eyes to his face, brown scruff covering his jaw, small patches of gray threading through the wiry hair. His plush lips curved into a slight grin, his bottom one plush and pouty—a very dangerous thing to see when you realized he could potentially be your new boss.

“How can I help you?” He asked, clearing his throat.

Your eyes shot up to his, immediately pulled under the dark brown waves that swam through his irises. You expected the club owner to be less appealing, maybe even a bit sleazy, given your track record of who you’ve met in the business. You didn’t expect him to be this attractive. 

You stepped over the threshold, unsure if you should shut the door behind you. You didn’t know Joel, nor could you trust him to be different from the other men you had encountered over the years. Despite your weariness, he motioned for you to shut the door and extended a hand toward the chair in front of his desk.

“I was, um, wondering if you were taking any new dancers?” 

You didn’t mean to word it like a question, but your uncertainty got the best of you. 

“Might be. Y’from here?” Joel asked, his southern drawl thick with each syllable. 

You slid down into the chair, letting your bag drop to the ground by your feet. Joel tracked your movements, watching you squirm under his heavy stare while he waited for your response. 

“Miami, actually. Just drove in this morning.”

“What brings ya’ to the Lone Star State?” He asked, a grin teasing the corners of his mouth. 

“Family,” you lied a little too quickly. 

Everything about being a dancer was a lie, and you weren’t about to change your ways for some owner you didn’t know. Joel stretched his arms over his head, his biceps flexing as he interlocked his fingers behind his neck. It should be a crime for someone to be this handsome; clearly, he knew what you were thinking because his lips twitched with an amused grin.

“Y’got experience in a club?”

“Yep,” you nodded. “Worked at my last one for three years.”

Joel’s eyes raked over you, lingering on your glossy lips and finally trailing back up to your eyes. Your skin flushed under his stare, your ears burning the longer he drank you in with slow, deliberate passes over your body as you crossed and uncrossed your legs behind the shield of his wooden desk. 

“I’m assuming you’ll want to see me dance,” you said, filling the dead air between you.

“Not necessary.”

You stared at your hands in your lap, crestfallen. This had been your last resort, and you were down on your luck now. You barely had a hundred dollars in cash left in your wallet, and you told yourself it was for emergencies only. You weren’t even sure it was enough to cover more than a night's stay in a motel somewhere in town. There wasn’t anyone you could call. There was nowhere else to go. 

A soft creak of his chair stirred you from your swirling thoughts, and you looked up to see Joel bracing his elbows on the desk. He was so much closer now, his age materializing into something softer as he studied you. Worry lines creased his forehead, smoothing out around his temples where his brown hair curled behind his ears. Even if this meeting was all for nothing, at least you got to enjoy a small glimmer of hope dressed as a beautiful Southern gentleman. You reached for your bag, ready to beeline it out the door and back to your car before you could make any more of a fool of yourself. 

“I don’t need an audition, sweetheart,” he said softly. 

You blinked up at him, both confused and hurt. He didn’t need to kick you while you were already down; he made it very clear you weren’t getting a spot in the club. You lifted your bag into your lap, shoving the chair back hard enough to make the legs scrape against the floor. 

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet me. Have a good day.”

The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth, and they didn’t sound much better either, but you didn’t care. There was nothing for you here, and you needed to search for a place to stay before the day slipped away. Clinging to whatever dignity—and hope—you had left, you turned for the door without another glance over your shoulder. 

“Wait.”

Joel’s voice radiated through the room as your hand hovered over the door handle. You half-considered dismissing him and continuing with your hopeless day, but a nagging voice inside your head told you to stay. Steeling your emotions, you turned to him with your arms folded over your chest. 

“Come back at nine. You’ll be on stage tonight,” he offered, rising from his seat.

“What?” You balked. “You just told me you didn’t want to see me audition.”

Joel shoved his hands in the front pockets of his dress pants, his shoulders lifting slightly with a shrug. You waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and shove you out the door. But there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his tone nor a look of deception in his soft eyes. 

“I never ask my girls to audition,” he explained. 

“Why? What if I’m bullshitting you?”

“I’ll find out if you are, but I got a feelin’ you won’t let me down.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Well, thank you. I’ll see you tonight.”

Joel dipped his head toward you, his lips curving at the corners under his thick mustache. You were in deep shit, knowing you’d get to see that warm smile every day. With nothing left to say, you muttered another thank you and opened the door, disappearing into the hallway before he could retract his offer. 

An upbeat tempo thrummed through the air as you passed by the stage, and you took a quick peek at the girl spinning on the pole, her blonde hair falling in a cascade of curls down her bare spine. The handful of patrons you had spotted coming into the club were now crowded around the stage, enthralled in her body as she moved to the rhythm of the music. Crisp dollar bills scattered the glass stage, falling at her feet as she lowered herself onto her knees. Your steps faltered as her eyes connected with yours, a friendly smile ghosting over her face before she returned to her routine. Digging through your bag, you reached for your wallet and dished out a couple of bills to toss onto the stage. It wasn’t much, and you knew better than to lessen your savings, but it was enough to show your respect for her hustle. She understood this life as much as you did. 

**

You spent the better part of the afternoon driving around the city, familiarizing yourself with the sidestreets and small shops you would come to frequent. There hadn’t been much luck finding a place to stay for the night, but you hoped you’d have enough money after your shift to afford a room, at least for the weekend. You were more than ready to sleep anywhere that wasn’t your car and even more ready to have cash in your pockets again. 

Anxious to start your first shift, you circled back to the club much earlier than Joel had asked. The sun was barely kissing the horizon as you put your car in park, the neon lights above the building flickering to life as the night swallowed the sky. You were two hours too early, but you didn’t want to wait any longer. You wanted to be on the stage now. 

Searching through the bags of your belongings stuffed in the trunk of your car, you found your pile of club outfits and began piecing together different options to wear for the evenings. You laid out a matching pink lingerie set, the bra entirely rhinestoned in refractive colored jewels. It had done numbers on stage, a perfect outfit for making first impressions. You scoured for one more set—a just-in-case outfit—and found a thin, black lace teddy at the bottom of the pile. You could pair it with your taller heels and use it as your outfit for your second dance on stage. If you got that far. Everything else looked unappealing, but you’d have time and money to shop during the weekend for new clothes. New everything, if you were being honest. You were starting from the ground up in Austin. 

As you tucked your clothes in your bag, you heard the sound of car keys jingling behind you. It was instinct to tense up at any noise in a parking lot, and your defenses were always up to foreign noises. Spinning quickly toward the sound, you came face to face with the same blonde you had seen on stage earlier in the day.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you!” She apologized.

“No, it’s okay,” you assured her, releasing a shaky breath.

She was wearing an oversized shirt and gym shorts, her feet stuffed in a pair of fuzzy blue slippers. With her hair pinned up and most of her makeup wiped off, you knew her shift was over.

“You must be the new girl Joel told us about. I’m Monica.”

She extended a hand toward you, and you quickly introduced yourself.

“Sorry, I probably look like a mess. I just got in today.”

Monica looked over your shoulder into the trunk of your car, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the mess. Everything left of your life was stuffed into only a few bags; it was embarrassing, to say the least. 

“Do you have family in town you’re staying with?” She asked.

“I do,” you lied. “I just haven’t had time to stop by yet and drop my things off.”

Monica looked between you and your car, skepticism crossing over her features. Dancers were great at lying but even better at discovering one. She saw through you in less than a minute.

“Let me give you my number,” she offered, pulling her phone from her purse. “When you’re done for the night, just call me. I’ve got an extra room you can crash in for a couple of nights if you need it.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. That’s, um, that’s way too kind of you,” you stammered.

She bristled at your words, shoving her phone in your hands to exchange numbers. You typed with shaking hands, the numbers mixing up as you deleted and retyped repeatedly. Handing the phone back to her, you waited for a text to ping through the air, and it did. 

You made your first friend in the new town and only hoped things wouldn’t end like they did in Miami.

“There’s plenty of girls still here for the night,” she started. “They’ll set you up in the dressing room and make sure you’re taken care of tonight. If anyone gives you hell, just tell them Monica’s looking out for you, and I’ll set them straight.”

You laughed softly at her gentle threat. You weren’t expecting such hospitality so quickly, but it was refreshing to know someone cared about you. After a few more minutes of casual conversation, she parted ways for the evening, and you were left standing in front of the neon lights beckoning you inside.

Showtime. 

The crowd inside the club had doubled since you had left earlier in the afternoon; the couches and bar tops were littered with groups of men and women all drinking high-priced drinks and shadowed in plumes of smoke. Three bartenders worked behind the counter, their routine flowing together as they worked in tandem, taking orders and making drinks. 

As you walked down the hallway by the stage, you noticed Joel’s door shut to the club. It confused you since the club was ramping up for the night; owners were usually out mingling with customers and dancers. You considered knocking on the door and thanking him again, but the thought passed just as quickly as it came, and you found your way to the dressing room. 

The room's bright lights were stark in contrast to the rest of the club, and you had to squint your eyes to adjust to the sudden change. Only two girls occupied the room, working on their hair in front of the vanity. The second you entered their eyesight, they turned with wide grins.

“You’re the new girl!” One squealed, her brown curls bouncing around her shoulders as she ran up to you.

She quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, her heavy vanilla perfume floating around her body and onto yours. 

“I’m Heather,” she said, pulling away. “And that’s Carolina.”

She gestured back to the other brunette, who gave you a shy wave. She was shorter than Heather, her hair cut into a sharp bob and streaked with caramel highlights. You waved back, introducing yourself to them both. Heather bounced back to the vanity, moving her array of makeup to the side to make room for your things.

“There are open lockers to the side over there, so feel free to stash away anything you need,” she explained. “If you need a curling iron or hairspray, you can always grab mine. And Carolina has extra body glitter, too, but I’m guessing you have your own.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some in my bag, but thank you. You guys are really sweet.”

You sat next to Carolina, dumping your makeup bag on the counter. Carolina worked at fixing her black nipple pasties, both of them on display under her sheer red bra. Her curves filled out her mini-skirt, the red material matching both her bra and Pleaser heels. She was fiery; you liked that.

“Joel said you’re from Miami,” Heather started. “This has got to be way less exciting than your old club, huh?”

You tensed up at her question, deciding on what to divulge. Heather and Carolina were sweet, but they were still strangers, and after last week…your guard was higher than ever. Pulling out your foundation and eyeshadow, you quickly started your makeup routine, dodging any invasive questions they tried to ask.

“How long have you both been working here?” You asked, flipping the focus onto them.

Heather fluffed her hair in the mirror, adjusting her purple halter top over her breasts before turning back to you.

“I’ve been here since Joel opened the club, so almost five years,” she stated.

“And I’ve been here for a little over a year,” Carolina said beside you.

“How is Joel?” You asked. “As an owner.”

Heather and Carolina let out a little giggle, clearly something private between them that went unsaid in response to your question.

“We like to say he’s like a recluse,” Carolina explained. “He hardly ever comes around during business hours. He just stays quiet and tucked away in his office. We pay him house fees at the end of our shift, and he leaves us alone.”

That piqued your interest. How could a club owner be so hands-off? Or maybe this was normal, and everything you had experienced in Miami was incredibly unprofessional. It was unprofessional, but you only assumed parts of it were like having your boss pimp you and other girls out for drugs and money. 

“Isn’t that weird, though? I mean, most club owners don’t do that. They’re usually—.”

“Creepy and a bit unsettling?” Heather offered.

You nodded slowly, focusing on yourself in the mirror as you lined your lips with a pink lip liner. 

“Joel isn’t like that, I promise you. He’s probably the most respectful man I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t even think he’s seen our tits,” Carolina giggled. “I can’t even tell you the last time I saw him outside his office during a shift.”

You shuffled off the vanity chair, returning to your bag to pull out your first outfit. As you peeled your shirt off, you mused over their casual information on Joel. You couldn’t make sense of it; how was Joel real? He must be too good to be true. He had to be.

“But how does he know what’s going on around here?” You pressed.

“His brother, Tommy, comes around, checks in on us, and reports to Joel if there’s anything worth knowing,” Heather shrugged.

“That’s it?”

“Yep!” Both of them said in unison.

Carolina strolled to one of the lockers behind you, retrieving a red garter from her back to tie around her ankle. You eyed her as she tightened the straps of her heels and adjusted her bra one last time. As she flounced to the door, she looked over her shoulder and gave you a slight wink.

“You’ll be just fine here, doll. I promise.”

The moment your heels clicked against the glass floor of the stage, everything in your mind turned off. You gave the DJ— Bradley, call me Brad, doll— your music of choice before stepping onto the stage: a slow, sensual track that made the crowd turn their heads in curiosity. Until then, Heather and Carolina had taken turns onstage doing routines to high-tempo songs, keeping the crowd engaged and rowdy. But that wasn’t your forte. 

You started things slowly, wrapping your hand around the pole and teasing the crowd with meticulous movements of your body that swayed to the beat of the music. Your fingers teased the outline of your breasts, cupping them seductively as you made eye contact with a few men sitting near the edge of the stage. Their undivided attention on your body was exhilarating; the promise of money dropping at your feet was enough to keep you going. Hooking your leg around the pool, you pulled yourself up, spinning in gentle turns as you flowed with the music. Everything you did was unrushed, and you took your time commanding the stage. 

Eventually, the tips started piling up on the stage. More clients drew closer, their eyes hungry and watchful. You slid onto your knees, crawling toward a younger man who hovered by the side of the stage, his button-up shirt disheveled and wrinkled—no doubt from a private dance he paid for only an hour ago. You graced him with an inviting smile, swaying your ass back and forth behind you. 

“Hi, beautiful,” he crooned, his voice barely audible above the thrum of the music. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” you replied. 

You knew how to bait them and make them chase after you. The thrill of it all was intoxicating, like the world was a blur around you, and all that existed was just the stage, the money, and your ability to make men crumble at your feet. Dragging yourself onto your knees, you coasted a hand down your abdomen, grinning as he tracked your fingers as they dipped over your navel. The money roll in his hand caught your attention, but you refrained from staring too long. Eye contact was crucial—if you kept him reeled in, the money would come to you. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” You asked, breathless.

“More than you know.”

He curled a finger, beckoning you closer. You didn’t like when clients reached for you, but you saw the crisp fifty-dollar bill hiding in his palm. Like a moth to a flame, you drew closer to the edge of the stage, letting his fingers work at the waistband of your thong. He didn’t prod or explore; his touch was respectful and gentle. Blowing him a kiss, you tucked the money under the thin fabric before returning to the center of the stage to finish your set. 

The music drifted to an end, the applause from the crowd around the stage rippling above the sound as the DJ returned to his playlist of choice. You gathered the tips off the stage floor, stuffing them into your moneybag as you left your set. 

For some strange reason, you were disappointed to see Joel’s office door shut off to the club despite Heather and Carolina’s words. You understood he didn’t come out during business hours, but part of you wished he had watched your first routine. Wasn’t he curious? And why did you care to have him watch you perform? It wasn’t like you were trying to impress him…Okay, maybe you were… 

Passing the DJ booth, Brad gave you a proud smile and a small congratulations. You hurried back into the dressing room, frantic to change into your next outfit. Heather lounged along the benches in front of the locker, her nails tapping against her phone screen as she typed furiously.

“Ugh!” She exhaled. “Men suck.”

You giggled as you plopped beside her, enjoying the simple camaraderie of being in another sisterhood with other dancers. You missed your girls in Miami, but that wouldn’t stop you from making new friends. And from what you’d already experienced in your short few hours at Diamond Dolls, these girls were genuine and caring. 

“Who’s the guy?” You asked.

“His name is Michael. We’ve been seeing each other on and off the past year, and he’s just… I don’t know. I feel like I give all my time and energy and get nothing in return. You know what I mean?”

“I do.”

You knew it too well. You had never been lucky in relationships; they were messy, and it was hard to come across a man who truly understood your field of work. Some of them loved the idea of having someone overly sexualized and, in their words, slutty. They considered every stripper to be the stereotypical version of a woman, all glitz and glam and naked on display. You were more than that, but none stuck around long enough to find out. 

“Can I give you some advice?” You offered.

Heather stopped her typing, giving you her full attention. 

“Men don’t deserve shit. If he’s not going to give his time and dedication to you, then he doesn’t deserve an ounce of your respect. You’re worth more than that. You deserve someone who will treat you like a queen.”

“Those types of men don’t exist,” she laughed. “They’re all sleazy and just want their dick wet.”

“I don’t know. I think there could be some good ones out there.”

Unwanted images of Joel flashed through your mind. There was no way you actually were thinking of him in this setting. You knew nothing about him or the type of man he was, so you couldn’t let your mind wander to the thought of him as a love interest, nor did you want that. He was a stranger and your boss.

“Well, if you find one, send him my way.”

“Absolutely,” you smiled.

As you both sat in comfortable silence, you worked at sorting through your wad of cash from your set. Smoothing out the bills and organizing them, you counted out over two hundred dollars. Not the best for your first routine in the club, but it was more than you had walked in with. And it was enough to hopefully find a place to stay over the weekend. However, Monica’s offer still remained in the back of your head. 

It was well past three AM when you decided to call it quits for the night. After two more sets on stage, you collected another four hundred dollars, leaving you satisfied for your first shift. Clients were generous, and the atmosphere inside the club was intoxicating. You wanted more, but you wouldn’t be greedy. Not yet, at least. 

After peeling off your clothes and replacing them with the sweats you had walked in with, you said your goodbyes to the girls and made your way to Joel’s office. A flight of butterflies swarmed in your stomach as your hand wavered over the door. Why did he make you so nervous? You were never nervous around men; you were usually quite the opposite. But Joel…You couldn’t get a read on him. You didn’t know what to expect, which made it so much worse.

“Hi,” you said quietly, softly cracking the door open.

You peered into the office, spotting Joel hunched over the desk, rifling through some papers. He glanced up quickly, his eyes shifting back down to the papers…Then, immediately right back up to you. You didn’t miss how his gaze drifted down your body, the hunger flickering to life behind his irises. You were in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but you might as well have been naked with the way he undressed you with his heavy stare. 

Your name fell softly from his lips, his mouth curving up in that same grin you melted over earlier.

“Heard you were the star of the show tonight,” he smiled.

“I don’t know about that,” you laughed.

Sliding into the office, you shut the door behind you, leaving only a few feet of space between you and Joel’s large frame. Somehow, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his gravity pulling you forward.

“No need to be modest, sweetheart. Everyone was talkin’ ‘bout you out there.”

“How do you know that? The girls told me you stay in here all night.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. He wore that snug black button-up, and the soft material still deliciously clung to his muscles. His biceps flexed under the shirt, and you trained your eyes on him to keep the temptation of looking at bay. 

“Don’t worry, I hear everythin’ inside this club. Got eyes and ears everywhere.”

“How’d you get into the business?”

“That’s a story for another time, sweetheart. It’s late, and I’m sure y’wanna get home,” he chuckled. 

A mystery. That's what Joel was: an absolute mystery. You couldn’t dig under his walls, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let him dig under yours. If he kept his life close to his chest, then you’d do the same. 

“What’s your price for house fees?” You asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Flat rate of twenty dollars. You can tip out the bartenders and Brad if y’want, but I pay them well enough that y’don’t have to worry ‘bout it.”

“Twenty?” You gaped. 

His brows furrowed together, trying to understand your shock. You pulled a twenty from your money bag and walked toward his desk to slide it to him. 

“They charge you less in Miami?” He questioned, reluctant to take the money.

“No, it’s not that. They charged a lot more…Like over a hundred some nights.” 

It was Joel’s turn to stare at you dumbfounded; his lips parted in confusion. Wasn’t it normal for house fees to be that high? Or had you been lied to all these years? 

“You’re fuckin’ with me, right?” 

“I swear I’m not. That’s what the club owner charged us down there.”

Joel ran a hand down his face, his eyes squeezing shut. You swayed awkwardly, your fingers digging into the material of your money bag. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized. “Didn’t mean to cuss at you like that. Just surprised me, that’s all.”

“It’s okay,” you replied quietly. 

“M’gonna take real good care of you here, ‘kay?”

His words shouldn’t have affected you, but heat crawled up your neck as you tossed his words over inside your head. Once again, Joel was proving to be far different than what you were used to back in Miami, but you wouldn’t let yourself overthink it.

“Thank you, Joel. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t gotta thank me none, sweetheart. Y’get home safe. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you.”

You cringed at the statement, another reminder of the web of lies you were already weaving. You’d tell him the truth eventually, or maybe not at all. You wouldn’t jeopardize your chance at a new life here.

Joel’s eyes did one final pass over your body, and your anxiety nearly drove you right into the door when you turned to leave. He needed to stop looking at you like that. You didn’t need any more fuel to the fire burning inside your stomach. 

**

You spent far too long hovering your finger over Monica’s contact information, debating whether or not to take up her offer of a place to stay. You had enough money for a hotel room, but the idea of saving it and tucking it away sounded more appealing. You didn’t know Monica— or any of these girls— but her willingness to help you earlier proved how loyal these dancers were to one another. 

Dialing her number, you tapped your fingers against your steering wheel, watching through your dirty windshield as patrons filed out for the night. You wondered which of these cars belonged to Joel and promptly stopped yourself from wondering about anything else. Why was every thought beginning and ending with him? 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, uh… Monica?” You reintroduced yourself, stumbling over your words like it was your first time speaking.

“Look who made it out alive in her first shift!” She said cheerily. “I’ll shoot you my address, and you can drive over. I’ve already got the guest bedroom set up for you.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to intrude on you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! You’re not intruding at all, honey. I’ve got the house to myself this weekend and could use the company.”

“I really appreciate it, Monica. Thank you.”

The city was nothing like Miami at night; the streets were empty, and the air was silent and calm. You kept the volume low on the radio as you drove to Monica’s house, enjoying the sound of the breeze as it drifted through the crack in your window. You focused on learning the street names as you passed every intersection, replacing the thoughts of Joel’s warm smile with things that would prove to be more important to you. But the memory of his eyes and smile still lurked in your mind, and no matter how many green lights you sped through, you couldn’t escape it. 

Monica’s home was tucked away in a residential neighborhood nearly half an hour outside the city, her tiny home the only one with a porch light still flickering under the dark sky. 

You barely opened your trunk when you heard Monica’s voice trailing down the driveway. 

“Hi!” She squealed. 

You turned to find her bounding down the pavement barefoot, her blonde hair tousled into a high ponytail and her pajamas hugging her curves. Setting your bag on the ground, you emptied your arms to welcome her into a hug, which should have felt awkward given you had hardly known her less than a full day, but with Monica…It felt normal.

“Thank you again,” you exhaled, your body slumping into her tight embrace. 

“Oh, don’t even mention it. My ex has the kids this weekend, so the place is extra lonely.”

“You’ve got kids?” You asked.

It wasn’t an accusatory question; you had danced alongside several women who were single moms supporting their children. Not to mention, Monica looked way too young to have kids, let alone more than one.

“I’ve got two,” she explained with a tired smile. “Twins, actually. Jackson and Luke. They just turned three in June.”

You shuffled your overnight bag over your arm while Monica led the way to the front door. The moment she opened the door, you were welcomed into a very lived-in home. Kid's toys littered the ground, while mismatched socks and shoes lay around in other spots. You smiled to yourself, seeing such a cozy place; you missed being in a home. Living in shady apartments and hotels left you bitter and yearning for somewhere to call home. 

“Sorry it’s such a mess,” she laughed absentmindedly. “The boys tend to destroy any clean area in the house.”

“You don’t have to apologize at all. I love it.”

She glanced back at you, quirking an eyebrow at your statement. It was true; you did love it. And you loved being welcomed into a home without feeling like a total burden. Monica gave you a small tour of the house before guiding you down the hall to the guest room. It was set up with a queen-sized bed and a small vanity in the corner—perfect for a night or two to get you back on your feet. 

Once settled in, you returned to the living room, where Monica was lying on the couch. 

“Thank you so much again,” you said, collapsing into the cushions.

“Of course, girl. I tend to be the motherly one out of the group, so if you ever need anything, you can always come to me. How was the first night?”

You stretched your legs out along the sectional, burrowing further into the pillows as you let your body unwind. Monica mimicked your movements, curling up under the small blanket draped over her body. 

“I didn’t know what to expect,” you admitted. “Being in a new club is always scary, you know? But everyone has been so welcoming, and the customers are great. And Joel is…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Joel is what?” Monica pressed, giggling slightly.

“He’s amazing. I’ve never met a club owner like him. He really cares about all of you girls, and it shows. I’m not used to that.”

“You had it bad out there in Miami, huh?”

You shifted slightly, trying to mask your unease with the question. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Monica; she hadn’t given you a reason yet not to, but the question was too fresh to answer. Glimpses of that night suspended themselves in your head, moments you couldn’t shake and only hoped you’d never have to relive. Everything you saw… everything you did… you wanted to forget. 

“Is it alright if we don’t talk about it?” You asked, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap.

“Of course, honey,” Monica said softly. “Whatever happened out there, just know it’s in the past, and you’re okay now. You’re safe here with me. I’ll take care of you, and so will Joel.”

Joel. 

Everything kept circling back to him. He was an enigma dressed in all black with a warm smile and a country twang. You were used to men being nice; they almost always had an ulterior motive for their kindness, but not Joel. His kindness wasn’t self-fulfilling, as far as you knew, and you could see how serious he was about the safety of everyone in the club. Maybe things would turn out differently here; maybe things would be okay. 

The early morning sunlight slowly began to seep through the living room curtains as you and Monica fell into endless conversation. Eventually, she mumbled something about needing a few hours of sleep before needing to run errands, and you took it as your sign to retire to bed. As you settled under the covers, you forced your mind away from the wandering thoughts of Miami. It was easy to forget everything that had transpired in the hotel room when you kept yourself busy, but in the silence, there was nowhere to run from the memories. 

“Alright, which one of you are we fucking first?” One of the guys asked.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, undoing his belt, as he asked the question. Your stomach rolled with nausea as the realization hit you; Richie had pimped you out. This wasn’t a party; this was a setup. You swayed in the corner of the room, eyeing the door to figure out how to escape without being snatched up by one of the men. But there were too many of them and just the three of you to try and fend for yourselves. What did it matter, though, when your two closest friends were already drugged out of their minds?

You couldn’t have slept more than one or two hours. The sun was too bright inside the bedroom, and your body was coated in a thin sweat as you jolted from the bed. You were safe. You were in Texas. You were at Monica’s house. You repeated those reminders as you rolled out of bed and entered the guest bathroom. The reflection in the mirror felt like a stranger; your eyes puffy and your face pale. 

“You’re okay,” you whispered to yourself. 

Splashing cold water on your face, you took a few minutes to gather your bearings. The days spent on the road running from Miami were catching up to you, and so was the anxiety that you had kept at bay. 

“Hey!” Monica called from somewhere down the hall.

You braced yourself against the bathroom sink, swallowing the startled gasp that threatened to bubble out of your mouth. 

“I’m headin’ out to the grocery, so if you want me to grab anything for you, just shoot me a text! I left breakfast on the kitchen counter for whenever you’re hungry,” she continued. 

“T–Thank you!” You stuttered. 

Dammit, you were okay. 

You waited until you heard the sound of the front door closing before emerging from the bathroom. In your slim hours of sleep, Monica had cleaned up the house from the night before. Toys were piled in small bins beside the couch, and the miscellaneous clothes and shoes had disappeared, most likely to their respective places in the laundry or kids' bedroom. 

The lingering smell of breakfast led you into the kitchen, where a plate of eggs and bacon sat neatly on the counter. Monica was truly a godsend, and knowing you were in good hands settled some nerves. Settling onto the kitchen barstool, you inhaled the aroma of the plate of food and reached for the fork. Your hand wavered as you spotted a piece of paper tucked under the plate's corner, dainty handwriting scribbling across the note. 

In case you need it, here’s Joel’s number. 

You stared at the series of numbers before you, your throat dry. Joel. The man that was giving you a second chance at this life you had decided to live. Joel. The man with a kind heart and even kinder eyes. Joel. 

The one person who could change everything.

[norringtondeservestheworld]

"It's bloody hot in here"

We are in 2024 and I still see (stupid) people claiming that Braime shouldn't have happened because it was "awkward" and they use as argument Jaime saying to Brienne "It's bloody hot in here" making memes of how Jaime looks like a stupid teenager at the first crush and how his flirting sucks.

But the thing is that.. his flirting IS SUPPOSED to sucks. Jaime Lannister is a 40+ years old man who has been all his life in an abusive and incestual relationship with his sister who manipulated him since they were kids and used sex to have something from him in return and because of that he never slept with another woman because he never felt attraction for another woman.. until now. Brienne is the first woman he sexually and romantically desired outside his sister so IT'S HIS FIRST TIME TRYING TO SEDUCE A WOMAN.

Just look at him. The awkward smile, the eyes constantly moving. HE HAS NO IDEA WHAT HE IS DOING. HE IS SO NERVOUS HE CAN'T EVEN UNDRESS HIMSELF.

And Brienne is as awkward as him. She is a virgin who has been mocked because of her appearance since ever, she wasn't estethically attractive and she knew. She never knew what it meant being courted or desired because she thought this day for her wouldn't come. So after Jaime patethic way of flirting she initially doesn't understand what the fuck is going on and gets confused, until she realized what is happening and all you can see is her completely disbelief.

The scene is supposed to be awkward because Jaime and Brienne are feeling awkward. Because it's their first time. Because they are getting vulnerable to someone who they disliked at first, but that now they love. Because they are living something that they never thought it would happen to them.

Just another prove of how Nikolaj Coster Waldau and Gwendoline Christie always understood their characters. While these people never did.

BONUS Jaime's face when he realized it's finally happening MY GOD I CAN'T WITH THESE TWO-

[vaspider]

Measure 110, or the Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

So if y'all aren't local to Oregon, you may not have heard that the Oregon state legislature just voted to -- essentially -- gut Measure 110, the ballot measure which decriminalized all drug possession and use in the state. It turned all drug use into a citation instead, and the citation and fine could be waived by completing a health screening. The entire point of Measure 110 was replacing jail with health care and services to help people instead, and while I could probably write a very long side post on the imperfections of that approach, it was at the very least a move in the right direction after decades of the pathetic failure and absolutely racist mess that is the "War on Drugs."

You may hear this pointed to in coming years as a reason why we have to just throw people into jail for using drugs, because Measure 110 failed. And like... it did fail, kinda. Sorta. It failed in that it did not manage to fix everything immediately, and it created some new issues while also exposing older issues more sharply.

It also saved the state $40 million in court costs prosecuting low-level drug offenses, kept thousands of people whose literal only crime was putting a substance into the body of a consenting adult (themselves) out of jail, put at least one addiction services center in every county in the state, invested $300 million in addiction services, and an awful lot more. See the end of this post for more reading.

But where it failed, it failed because it wasn't supported. Police and advocacy groups both asked for specific tickets for this new class of offenses which had the phone number to call to go through the health screening and the information about how going through that health screening would make the ticket go away printed on it prominently - lawmakers declined to fund this. Governor Kotek budgeted $50K to train officers on how to handle these new citations and how to direct people to the treatment and housing supports, but lawmakers thought that training officers on this new law at all was a waste of money. Money moved extremely slowly out to the supports that were supposed to come into play to help people obtain treatment or get access to harm-reduction strategies. People freaked the fuck out about clean-needle outreach, fentanyl testing strip distribution, Narcan training, and other harm-reduction strategies.

And at the end of the day, Measure 110 gets called a failure because it wasn't a silver bullet. Never mind that thousands of people are not sitting in jail right now for basically no fucking reason. Never mind that people have gotten treatment, harm has been reduced, overdoses have been prevented...

So, yeah. You'll probably start hearing this trotted out as proof that, well, we triiiied decriminalizing drugs, but look what happened in Portland! Well, what happened in Oregon is that we got set up to fail, and still didn't fail, just didn't totally succeed.

Measure 110 highlights, quoted directly from Prison Policy Initiative:

The Oregon Health Authority reported a 298% increase in people seeking screening for substance use disorders.

More than 370,000 naloxone doses have been distributed since 2022, and community organizations report more than 7,500 opioid overdose reversals since 2020.

Although overdose rates have increased around the country as more fentanyl has entered the drug supply, Oregon’s increase in overdoses has been similar to other states’ and actually less than neighboring Washington’s. A peer-reviewed study comparing overdose rates in Oregon with the rest of the country after the law went into effect found no link between Measure 110 and increased overdose rates.

There is no evidence that drug use rates in Oregon have increased. A cross-sectional survey of people who use drugs across eight counties in Oregon found that most had been using drugs for years; only 1.5% reported having started after Measure 110 went into effect.

There has been no increase in 911 calls in Oregon cities after Measure 110.

Measure 110 saves Oregonians millions. Oregon is expected to save $37 million between 2023-2025 if Measure 110 continues. This is because it costs up to $35,217 to arrest, adjudicate, incarcerate, and supervise a person taken into custody for a drug misdemeanor — and upwards of $60,000 for a felony. In contrast, treatment costs an average of $9,000 per person. The money saved by Measure 110 goes directly to state funding for addiction and recovery services.

There is no evidence that Measure 110 was associated with a rise in crime. In fact, crime in Oregon was 14% lower in 2023 than it was in 2020.

Further reading/sources:

[javiercigsrete]

Bad idea

dbf!joel x f!reader.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

main masterlist

summary: teasing joel while on a road trip to houston for a concert was a bad idea. especially with your father tagging along. 3.9k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (23/40), smut, unprotected piv, fingering, dirty talk??, shit load of pet names, banter??, gas stations, no use of y/n, cursing, readers father is oblivious ofc, not beta read we die like losers, uhh idk what else so if i missed anything lmk !!

a/n: omfg this took way longer to write than i'd hoped for but it's here !! it's not the best and it's truthfully my first fic i've completed, written, and posted so if it's horrible that's why. that and i've also never written smut before so this was definitely a learning experience, hopefully as time goes on i'll get better at it but for now it's fuck it we ball, live and learn, anyways enjoy this and also happy birthday to joel miller the loml <3

The tree leaves dance in the wind, a few cars crushing the ones that have fallen and blown into the street leaving only tiny pieces to scatter in the air. It's only the middle of August but the leaves have already started to change colors and fall. at least it's still warm out.

You've watched at least four cars pass since the time Joel was supposed to show up, your dad planned some overnight trip to a concert in Houston. You're all supposed to ride in Joel's truck – he'd offered to be the one to drive there and back – but he still isn't here.

Be nice if it was just you and Joel. It would be like a date, the two of you alone together, spending the day together and having the hotel room all to yourselves for the night.

But that could never happen.

You can hear him from where you're sitting on the porch. your dad. He's been on the phone for the past hour arguing with whoever, he'd gotten loud enough you'd sought reprieve outside, it's proven useless.

You're thankful when you spot the familiar black truck pull up along the sidewalk, you stand from the steps and make your way over to him as he steps out of the truck. “You're late,” you say.

Joel grabs up your bag, tossing it into the bed of the truck. You're not entirely sure how safe that is but you don't bring it up yet.

“Sorry baby, lost track of time and got stuck in traffic.” When he turns to you he leaves one hand on the bed and the other on his hip, you watch the way his hands flex, like he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you.

But your dad could walk out the door any second, so he doesn't.

You nod, giving a slight raise of your eyebrows. “Traffic,” is all you say.

“What?” He cocks his head, raising his own eyebrows questioningly.

“Nothing,” you mutter when you hear the screen door open and your dad's voice travels through the air.

“We ready?” he tosses his own bag in the bed, eyeing you two curiously. You both nod in confirmation. “Alright then, let's go.” He rounds the truck, hopping in the passenger's side.

You look at Joel who gives you an apologetic look as he opens the door behind the driver.

This is going to be a long trip.

Joel was right about the traffic, you spend thirty minutes waiting for it to move along the highway. You'd understood the plan of it being an overnight trip but at this rate it might as well be a two day trip.

“God damn, the hell’s takin’ so long?” You hear your dad say, finally breaking the silence that filled the car. “might have to stay longer at this rate, if we even make it,” he mutters.

“‘S why we left so early,” Joel says, there's a hint of agitation laced in his voice, no doubt from the traffic.

You feel the need to make it worse, poke the bear if you will.

“You were late,” you mumble, but you can tell he heard you from the glare you receive through the mirror.

The concert doesn't start till seven, you'd left early – far too early if you're being honest – enough so there was time to get ready, you aren't too sure how that will plan out now from the traffic but Houston isn't very far now.

You honestly wish it was just you and Joel. The car ride so far has been pretty boring, if it was just the two of you the ride wouldn't be so dull. Instead you've listened to your dad talk about sports and work while Joel nodded along, occasionally replying with a sentence or two.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you that all of Joel's attention was elsewhere. But you'd also be lying if you weren't about to make his life impossible.

Because that's exactly what you do.

It's honestly not a good idea, it's risky, but you're beyond caring at this point.

You reach over for your bag, grabbing out a few snack foods you'd packed earlier. You opt out of the chips, they're probably not the most sultry thing you could eat, instead you reach for the cream puff you'd bought a few days ago and forgot about.

You'd packed it for that reason, but now it has a new purpose.

The sound of the wrapping catches the two men's attention, your dad turns in his seat to see what the noise was when he spots the pastry between your hands. “Be careful with that, don't go makin’ a mess in Joel's truck,” he says, scolds almost.

You roll your eyes slightly. “I won't,” your eyes meet Joel's in the mirror, you smile at him as you take a bite of the puff.

His eyes track you, occasionally flitting back to the road. You can tell he's trying to figure out your game, not that it's too complicated to figure out.

You pull the pastry from your mouth, your other hand coming down to cup under your chin slightly. Joel's eyes are like daggers on you as he watches you, you can see the moment he spots the cream on your lips – you spotted it too.

Your tongue darts out slowly to lick at your lips, cleaning the mess left behind running your thumb along your bottom lip for extra measure. Joel stiffens in his seat, his hand tightening on the steering wheel, his jaw ticking to the side as he watches your little performance.

You smile innocently, but you both know what you're doing.

“Light’s green bud,” your dad's voice booms, breaking Joel from his trance as his eyes move from the mirror back to the road.

You’ve stopped for gas twice now, the first time was before you’d left because Joel forgot to fill his truck up the night before. You’d be worried about not making it on time but you’ve made pretty decent time.

You’re about half way when Joel pulls into a gas station, pulling up to a pump and shutting off the car. The sound of the passenger door opening catches Joel's attention. “We all goin’?” he asks, looking back at your dad who’s already out of the car.

“Yeah, figured we could stretch our legs and all that,” your dad says, emphasizing his statement by stretching out his body.

You’re wondering about the candy section when your dad finds you. “Hey, Joel's outside filling the truck, you almost done?”

You scan the aisle one more time, snatching up a lollipop as you nod. “Yep, now I am,” you say, following him to the counter.

You swear the line takes forever, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a gas station so busy before, you stand next to your dad as he checks out, your eyes wander out one of the windows, you spot Joel almost immediately. His broad shoulders squared as he stands next to the pump.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, turning to see your dad gesturing towards the door. You follow him out, unwrapping the lollipop as you both make your way back to the truck. “Shit,” your dad mutters, ruffling through the plastic bag. “I'll be right back, forgot something.”

You nod, leaning against the side of the truck, watching as your dad jogs back into the store leaving you and Joel to finish filling the tank.

Your eyes catch Joel's, he’s standing at the bed of the truck his arms crossed along his chest, you watch the way his shirt stretches along with it.

You can tell he’s caught onto your game, has for a while now if the way the muscle in his jaw jumps says anything.

“The hell you doin’?”

You smile, pulling the sucker from your mouth with a pop. “What do you mean?”

Joel shakes his head, grabbing the pump and putting it back freeing up his pathway as he steps closer to you. “Don’t give me that, you know what I'm talking about,” he says, crowding your space slighting.

You look up at him through your lashes, doing your best to keep your expression unreadable. “You’re going to have to be specific joel,”

His jaw ticks to the side, scanning the area quickly before gripping your chin between his fingers, tilting your face upwards more as he leans in. “Your little stunt in the car with the cream puff, tryna get me hot and bothered, hm?” He whispers, his tone dropping an octave sending shivers down your back.

This is the closest he’s been in hours and he still isn’t close enough.

“Wanna get us caught, hm? Is that it?” His hand slides to the base of your throat, “let your daddy find out i’m fucking his daughter?”

You part your lips, his eyes drop at the movement, you want nothing more than for him to kiss you right now to run your hands through his hair while he all but devours you. He’s thinking the same, the way his hand tightens ever so slightly around your neck as his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes.

“Joel,” you breathe, you’re not sure what you’re trying to ask but you never get a chance before the sound of your dad’s voice causes you both to spring apart.

“Are we ready?” your dad asks, tossing his things in the car and looking at you both.

“Yep,” Joel clears his throat, running a hand across his face before getting in the truck.

Your legs are practically screaming at you, sitting in the back of a pickup for hours and then climbing a set of stairs is leaving your calves burning in the worst way.

You’d finally made it to the motel you’d be staying at for the night with plenty of time to spare thankfully. When you walk into the room you’re immediately met with the ac, it’s a relief on your skin from the hot air outside.

The room’s what you’d expect a motel room to be, two double beds spaced apart with two dark night stands next to them. They’re neatly made, meaning it’ll be a battle to get into. You venture further in the room, passing by the bathroom and heading towards another door within the room.

When you open the door you’re met with another room, it’s slightly smaller with no other way out of it than the main door, there’s a single double bed in the center of the room that’s made up the same way as the other two.

Conjoined rooms. It makes sense, you toss your things on the bed closing the door. You rummage around in your bag looking for the dress you’d packed, you didn’t pack a whole lot given that you weren’t staying for very long but now as you’re searching for something to wear it feels like you did.

You end up dumping the bag, your pajamas and make up layed out on the bed as you flatten out the wrinkles of your dress, it wasn’t anything too extravagant just a simple dress that fell just above your knees.

You’re just about to put your hair up to do your makeup when the door opens, you turn to see Joell standing in the doorway, his broad frame practically taking up the entire space. He’s dressed in the same clothes he’d shown up this morning in, — save for the flannel he’d stripped himself of — a dark blue shirt that hugs his arms paired with dark washed jeans.

He stands leaning against the frame in silence as  his eyes rack up your body taking you in. “Y’look pretty,” he says, finally pushing off the frame taking slow deliberate steps towards you.

You watch his movements stood in the middle of the room, your heart rate picks up heat pooling in the bottom of your stomach from the way he’s looking at you. The atmosphere in the room is thick with need, you have half a mind to ask where your dad is.

“Oh, now you’re worried ‘bout your dad?” your eyes widen, you hadn’t thought you’d said that aloud. Joel crowds your space, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb under your chin as he tilts your head slightly.

“He left to get food, won’t be back for a little while,”

“It’s just us then?”

“Mhm,” 

You all but drag him down to your lips, your hands locked together around the back of his neck. Joel stumbles at your eagerness catching himself before he can fall, his hands falling to your waist bunching up your dress as he squeezes your sides.

You gasp softly when Joel pulls you closer, the prominent bulge of his cock digging into your hip, you grind your hips upwards seeking some sort of friction for the ache already forming between your legs.

Joel pulls away, you whine at the loss. “Should finish gettin’ ready sweetheart,” he mumbles, putting distance between you, his hands still firmly in place at your waist.

He’s teasing you now, getting you back for the car ride. But you’ve lost the patience to be teased right now, your core practically throbbing already and Joel is looking at you with a smug smirk well aware of the state you’re in.

“Joel,” you whine out, trying uselessly to pull him back towards you.

He raises his brows, keeping his distance. “Yes babygirl?” He says, rubbing circles along your sides.

“Please,” 

“Please what, darlin’?”

You groan in annoyance, if you weren’t so worked up you’d strangle him for making you beg, but you are. “Please, fuck me,”

Joel hums, looking up as if he’s contemplating, you’re certainly starting to reconsider strangling him. “Dunno know baby, might just make you wait til we get home,”

You could honestly start screaming, you’re running out of time and he’s just messing with you. You look up at him, his eyes already on you an almost amused look on his face.

You lay your hands on his shoulders as you plead. “Please. I’ll do anything just, please,”

“Yeah?” He steps closer, leading you backwards towards the bed, you nod slowly carefully walking til the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

Joel lays you back, pushing whatever's on the bed to the floor as he follows you down, he nudges your legs apart so he can nestle himself between them. You wrap your hands around his neck again, pulling him down once more to your lips.

His mouth slots over yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Your body is on fire as his hands wander, sliding lower to where you need him most.

You moan into Joel's mouth, your hips grinding upwards as one of his hands slip under the hem of your dress finding your clit through the fabric of your underwear, damp from the slick leaking from your core.

He rubs gentle circles against your clit, kissing his way down your neck. You run your hands through his hair gripping the strands as you gasp and moan.

Joel pulls his hand away from your core, you whine at the loss, he pulls away from you, his hands sliding up your legs. His fingers slip under your waistband, pulling your underwear down off your legs and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Joel,” you squirm under him, his eyes flick back up to yours, he watches you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand slides back up your leg spreading them so he can nestle between them again.

“I know,” he rasps, two of his fingers running through your arousal, collecting the slick before sliding the two digits past your entrance slowly, your head falling back against the pillows as you moan softly.

He thrusts his fingers, a slow back and forth rhythm, curling them upward on every inward thrust. Your hips rock up encouraging him to move faster, every inward thrust paired with the rock your hips has Joel hitting the spongy spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

His thumb finds your clit rubbing circles on the bud, your hands seek purchase on his shoulders, rumpling his shirt as you ball your fists. “This what you wanted, baby?” He taunts, pulling his fingers almost completely out then thrusting them back in.

You nod, your voice lost to the moans and gasps. “Could've asked ‘stead of teasin’ me all day,” Joel drawls, his voice thick with lust, his hips slowly rutting into the mattress.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” You finally breathe out.

You hear Joel grumble something under his breath, you don’t catch what before he’s back to thrusting his fingers at a fast pace, his hips grinding down matching the rhythm of his fingers.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, the warmth building at the bottom of your stomach. Joel can sense it too, his fingers working more determinedly, his thumb applying more pressure on your clit as he works to push you over the edge. “You gonna cum?” He drawls in your ear lowly, placing delicate kisses below your ear.

A soft moan elicits itself from your throat, nodding your head quickly, your toes curling up as your orgasm approaches. “Words darlin’,” he nips at your earlobe.

“y– ha – yes,”

“That's it babygirl, let go,” he coo’s gently, encouraging you, and you do. You grip Joel's arms, tossing your head back, your mouth agape, a chain of moans escaping. Your walls clench around his fingers, your body shuddering under the weight of your orgasm.

“There you go, good girl,” Joel praises softly, slowing his fingers as you come down from your high. He watches the way your chest rises and falls rapidly, your body relaxing into the bed. You haven’t fully come down from your high before beginning to fumble with the button of his jeans, Joel's hand lays over yours stopping your movements. “Woah, slow down darlin’,” he chuckles.

You groan in frustration, throwing your head back against the pillows once more. “Joel.” you grumble.

“Ask nicely,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

You groan again looking up at him again. “Please,” 

He pulls your hand away, carefully pinning it above your head as he deftly works open the button of his pants, swiftly pushing them past his hips along with his underwear. You can tell he’s running out of patience — and time — to keep teasing you from the way he all but hurriedly frees his aching cock.

You watch as he strokes himself, a careful back and forth motion, his brows furrowed in pleasure. He nudges your legs further apart nestling his hips between your thighs, you wrap your legs around him pulling him closer to you. The head of his cock nudges against your clit eliciting a gasp.

“Fuck,” Joel breathes, closing his eyes tightly, his teeth grinding together slightly.

He lets out a breath, composing himself, he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, sliding the tip along your folds and through arousal using it to slick himself up. Holding your breath everytime the tip catches your clit.

He does that a few more times, his cock only catching your entrance before pulling away. “Just, fuck me,” you huff irritatedly.

“Bein’ a real brat, y’know that?” Joel grumbles, lining his cock up with your entrance. “Should leave you like this, let you go to the concert soakin’,” he never gives you the chance to say anything before he’s pushing his hips forward, stretching you open.

You moan out your legs tightening around his hips, he sets a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping upwards, the head of his cock pushing further on every thrust.

Your hands find their way to Joel’s hair, pulling the strands as you toss your head back in pleasure, your eyes rolling backwards. Joel groans, his head falling on your chest, his hot breath ghosting the skin there.

The room was filled with both of your breaths, soft moans mixing with heavy groans as Joel fucked into your heat. His hand slides down your side, his thumb finding your clit once more drawing tight circles, your moans growing in pitch. Joel slots his mouth over yours, muffling your moans slightly in a heated kiss, your teeth clashing together.

“Be. Quiet.” He manages to gasp out between kisses. You mumble out what sounds like an affirmative, he moves down your neck leaving open mouthed kisses along the skin there, his teeth lightly nipping there. But he knows better than to leave any marks.

His hips continue to ground into you, his cock pushing further and further, his tip grazing against the spot inside you that leaves you breathless. “Yeah? Right there?” He quirks an eyebrow, watching as you bite your lower lip in an effort to muffle your moans.

You nod your head, unable to form any words, your walls tighten around him, you can feel yourself getting closer. His pace quickens, his hips pounding into you faster working vigorously to get you there before him. “Go on baby, le — fuck — let go,” he stutters, his hips faltering slightly.

Your legs tighten around his hips as your orgasm gets closer, the feel of his cock pushing you over the edge. Your walls clamp down, your legs practically going numb as your eyes rolling as pleasure washed over you. Joel’s movements slow as you come around him. “That’s it babygirl, there you go. Cum around me, good girl,” he soothes, a desperate moan escaping.

When you finally come down from your high Joel’s movements pick up speed again, working desperately to push himself over the edge he’d been teetering on for a while now.

You run your hands through his hair, pulling him closer, trailing kisses up his neck and below his ear, lightly biting the lobe as his hips begin to stutter. “Fuck darilin’, so fuckin’ pretty it hurts,” he rambles, his head falling to your shoulder.

He groans, his hips stopping as he cums, his warm load coating the inside of your walls. His body slackens slightly, careful not to put his weight on you. For a while the only sound filling the room is that of both your breaths.

After a few more bouts of silence Joel finally speaks up. “Should get cleaned up and finish gettin’ ready,” he says, groaning as he slowly pulls out, carefully tucking himself away before extracting himself from the bed. “C’mon,” he pats your leg, moving towards the door.

You sit up on your elbows, watching him from the bed. “What about my underwear?” You ask, Joel turns to face you from the doorway.

“What about them?” He doesn’t say anything else, never gives you the chance to say anything either before he’s out the door a smug smirk plastered across his face.

You stare out the door at a loss, eventually falling back against the bed, you know you should get up and finish getting ready before your dad gets back, but if you’re being honest you don’t think you could get up right now.

Instead you lay there staring at the ceiling, a ridiculous grin spread across your face. Teasing Joel with your dad around may have been a bad idea, but you’d do it again if it got you here.

[transformhim]

Pose

“We good here?”

The model’s question caught him off guard as Raul looked up from from his camera, adjusting the frame and focus for his next shot while his assistant, Damien, moved onto the set to adjust the light and prop placements. The deep bass background music played throughout the apartment in the awkward silence.

The fuck does he mean, are we done?? We’ve hardly started! Raul thought with an annoyed scratch at the back of his head. The model had been a terrible subject to begin with, giving poses and taking heavy sighs at each direction Raul tried to give him, and essentially treated the shoot as though it was something he was bored doing. His payment was way more than modest and the shoot wasn’t supposed to take more than an hour, but he looked like he was ready to leave just 20 minutes in.

Raul cleared his throat, “Uhh, actually we still need a couple more shots. The client is looking for a pretty varied spread to choose from. So if we could j—..”

“Come on, man, you’re really gonna make me do this for another 40 minutes? I’m sure what you got is fine.”

Raul breathed in heavily, “Look, it’ll just take a bit more, the contract said that it wouldn’t be—..”

“Well, you can take it up with my agent, man, I got places I gotta be,” the model started stepping off the set, turning his back to Raul to start packing his things.

Raul turned his eyes towards Damien, lifting his palms up in a disbelieving gesture and shaking his head. Damien just rolled his eyes and shrugged with a dejected smirk. They’ve dealt with these kinds of divas numerous times before. Almost too many to count, actually.

But money had been tight at the studio since the pandemic hit, and even all these years later it still hadn’t recovered. they couldn’t afford to keep getting these types of dismissive twats leave shoots before they were supposed to. Clients were always very specific about what they wanted and could cut pay if they weren’t satisfied.

But Raul and Damien had their own means of dealing with these kinds of rude bastards. As they exchanged wordless looks expressing their annoyance and frustration, Damien’s eyes began to slowly drift towards the model off set, gathering his belongings. His dejected look changed to one of curiosity as he bit his lip. He looked towards Raul and narrowed his eyes with a cheeky grin.

‘Should I?’ Damien mouthed silently towards Raul.

A sly grin spread across Raul’s face as he considered Damien’s proposal. He looked back at the model—turned away from them as he texted to his agent or slam piece or gym family or whatever—and back at Damien, biting his lip mischievously and nodding.

Damien smiled wider and stretched. He took off his tank top and tossed it aside, his toned hairy torso now bare. His fingers hooked under his waistband, and his basketball shorts and boxers drop silently to the floor as he kicked them over on top of his tank top. Now naked and hardening quickly, he arched his back in a stretch, rolled his neck, and rubbed his palms together as he stepped towards Raul. He leaned in for a quick kiss with his partner as he took the bottle body oil next to Raul that the model had used and squirted a massive helping into his hand, slathering it over his chest, arms, and face. Quickly, he moved towards the model gathering his things, ducking down lower as he approached.

“When you get to it, make sure my payment goes t—UUUHHHNNGGG!!” The model was interrupted in the middle of his sentence as Damien, in one fluid motion, pulled the model’s speedo down and plunged his face between his globular asscheeks. The model groaning and grunting in mindless pain and confusion, gripping the sides of the table where his things were sitting, as Damien popped his oily face and head into model’s tight hole, sending a loud squelching *SCHLORP* echoing through the apartment.

Damien’s slick body then began to suck up into the model’s hole, his muscular tan form thinning and contorting as he slithered deeper and deeper into the model’s guts, the entire process emitting a familiar meaty, slimy, slurping sound Raul knew and loved so well. Raul licked his lips, pawing his swelling package, as he watched the model’s sculpted ass distend slightly as his tight hole widen more and more as it hungrily slurped Damien inside him, his tattooed, lubricated form and limbs compressing in on themselves as he plunged deeper. Raul couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the model—he knew full well how ecstatic and orgasmic it felt to have Damien slither up inside him… and what came next.

Just as Damien’s ass and throbbing rod sank into the model’s guts, his thighs and legs shot up into the hole at a much faster speed, whipping into the model’s hole noisily. Raul had shoved his hands into his shorts and was stroking eagerly as the Damien's feet slurped inside while the model groaned and contorted, arching his neck and back and standing on the tips of his toes, cringing at the pain and pleasure racking through his body.

Damien was gleefully readjusting his out-of-proportion frame within the squeezing, slimy, meaty confines of the model’s body, feeling different parts of the model’s sides, abs, and back twitch, flex, and contort, as his body tried to adjust to its invader. He could hear the muffled sounds of Raul’s horny, drunken laughter from the outside, thinking he for sure must have been making the model appear to have a substantially pregnant beer gut as Damien’s body centralized in his torso. After using a stretched out hand to brush his lubricated, wet hair out of his face, Damien went to work shoving his limbs into the model’s extremities.

Damien loudly moaned from within the body as he felt his arms and legs come to new life with increased strength and size while his limbs shoved through slick meat like a tight sleeve into the model’s beefy appendages. He smirked, feeling cocky and horny as he felt his arms burst into massive cannons and his heart fluttered as he felt the rest of him come to life. Damien arched in exhilarated bliss as he felt his chest, torso, and back first compress under the weight of the model’s squeezing body and then surge outward in new sensations of power and mass as Damien’s senses merged with the model’s, enticing him to give his big chest a flex to feel it bounce with new weight.

Raul nearly blew his load from an observer’s perspective. The model’s head was lolled backwards and his eyes rolled back while his body underwent what looked to be an instant pump, his muscles standing out more prominently under his skin, bit by bit, as his boyfriend filled him up like a balloon. Raul gasped as he stroked himself, watching Damien fill up the model’s lower half, making his already impressive thighs and glutes swell larger still. The thong he was wearing for the shoot looked somehow more risqué than earlier, hugging the model’s sweaty skin more tightly and accentuating his now-larger parts. The model was no longer the shredded twunk he was when he came into the apartment, but a swaggering thicc muscle stud with his and Damien’s combined mass.

Finally, Raul could see a sizable lump appear from near the model’s collarbone, stretching the model’s gold chain to its limit, as Damien began to shove his own head upwards into the model’s. He began to elicit deeper, gurgling groans as Damien wiggled and stretched his head up into the neck. Raul felt himself nearing completion as the model’s head suddenly jolted upwards with a dull crack, the lump in the model’s throat now gone. It wasn’t until Raul heard Damien utter his first satisfied groan in the model’s low voice that he blew his pent up load all over the floor in front of him.

Damien rolled his head around in his new body, stretched his shoulders and panted a few more breaths. He touched the foreign curves and angles in his face for a moment, turned on by his own handsome, sharp, smooth face. He felt sweat dripping off him from his exertion and huffed a big whiff of the new musk he emitted. Not bad!

“Alright!” He rubbed his hands off his face and down his pillowy chest.

“Let’s take some pictures.”

Damien turned to see that Raul had blown a sizable load all over the floor, some even on the set, and giggled as Raul chuckled, panting, coaxing the last of his load out of his shaft, letting it dribble down his fingers and onto the puddle below.

“Already?! Come on, man,” Damien chastised playfully.

“Sorry, babe, I just love the way you filled him out, dude. Fuck!”

“Oh? Y’like?” Damien teased walking towards him, saucily lolling his tongue out while he flexing his arms hard and tensing his pec muscles several times. He was being corny like always, but Raul was kicked into 5th gear again, instantly ready to blow another load.

“Yeah, dude, I fuckin’ do,” Raul took the liberty of feeling up Damien’s slick muscle gut, running his hands over his protruding abs. Damien could see how into this his boyfriend was and decided to move things forward a bit.

He grabbed Raul’s hand and shoved it into his thong, feeling his new hardening 7 incher steel against his boyfriend’s palm. He humped and gyrated his mammoth cock against Raul’s hand and asked, “What about the shoot?”

“Shoot can wait,” Raul moaned as he gripped onto Damien’s slick dick and stroked, lifting up Damien’s huge arm with his other hand and burying his face into Damien’s sweaty pits, licking and lapping at the moist surface while inhaling deeply.

Damien lifted up his other arm for Raul to let his boyfriend worship his other pit, bouncing his pecs a bit as Raul slathered his greedy face across his sweaty jugs on his way to the next pit. Damien grinned as he felt Raul continue to lovingly work his shaft. He was looking forward to a hedonistic, indulgent weekend with his boyfriend—he just hoped they eventually remember to finish the shoot.

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite

Chapter 1

It's here! This is the first chapter of my first real fic here on tumblr! I am not the best writer so please be kind :')

Series masterlist

Alternate Universe SKZ!

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

Previous - Next

Summary: There's no turning back now, not when you know what you left behind. A dangerous situation now replaced with another. After the omegas disappeared you have to extra careful, especially now that you have left your pack and family.  What happens when your car breaks down on another pack's land?

Series Warnings: Fem reader, Smut, verryyyy nsfw, chan x reader, OT8 x reader, A/B/O, m/m/f smut, possessive! SKZ, possessive! Reader, anxiety and depression, fluff, angst, virgin!reader, cursing, violence, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, Sub reader x mostly dom SKZ, misogyny and sexism, Ateez are depicted as terrible people (sorry Atiny!) 

Chapter warnings: Angst, anxiety, reader is VERY sad, minor violence, cursing, A/B/O (pls let me know if I missed any!)

MDNI 18+

Wc: 2400 ish

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters were designed after. The views and actions of these characters do not reflect the real Stray Kids in any way shape or form. This is all for fun let’s keep it that way please. 

You should have known better. All those hushed conversations your parents have been having, all the phone calls your father excused himself to take, even the trip to your packs doctor for a very extensive physical. None of it set off your mental alarm bells and that made you feel so stupid. But how could you have known that your own parents, the people who raised you and were supposed to have your best interest at heart, were planning on selling you off to the highest bidder once you became mature enough. 

That's life for omegas these days, though. After a worldwide virus a few decades ago, omegas just stopped being born. The virus wiped the gene out almost completely, leaving a very small percentage of omegas left. Unluckily for you, you happened to be the only omega born in your area in the last 40 years. That made you highly sought after by alphas, especially dangerous ones. 

Your hands were still shaking. It had been hours since you escaped your parents house in your car, yet you couldn't get your hands to stop shaking with the immense adrenaline you’re feeling. You had no plan, no money, nowhere to go and no one to help you. Your only friend, Ash, was a beta girl in your pack and as much as you liked her you knew she could do nothing to save you now. At least your car had a full tank of gas, the only good thing your father had done for you was allow you to drive to Ash's house on occasion.

All the adrenaline was starting to wear off as you drove, the realization of what this would mean for you and your life now starting to sink in. The constant looking over your shoulder, the uneasiness you will always feel, it was almost too much to handle. No. What would have been too much to handle is letting that filthy man get his hands on you. Kim Hongjoong.You had heard about the things that alpha had done to claim power over his pack. From sabotage to murder, none of it was good. From what you could gather he was on the search for an omega to complete his pack and somehow had heard whispers about you. The only known omega within a few hundred miles. He wanted an omega to raise his children and help him lead his pack and would do anything to get his hands on one; whatever necessary. 

You imagine the sum of money he offered your parents was just too good for them to pass up on. Your alpha father was too proud to accept anything less than a hefty amount. Your mother was an omega through and through. Obedient and submissive to her alpha. Just as she raised you to be. She herself was a rare omega. Though back in her day the omega population wasn't as low as it is now. Now the numbers have fallen to less than 0.2%. Your mother molded you into the perfect little doll. Almost. Never in your wildest dreams did she or your father imagine you, their doll, would be disobeying and running from all you had ever known, yet here you are. That's what real fear does to a person. Fight or flight. All your life you had been all bark and no bite. Now this is your way of biting back.

All you had to your name was this old car (technically your fathers), an old backpack with a few changes of clothes, and couple cans of spaghetti o’s. Luckily this car had an old map in the glovebox. Better than nothing especially since you had no gps and no phone. You knew better than to take the main roads. Your pack would undoubtedly be looking for you and the car. Back roads it was then.

You couldn't tell exactly how many hours you had been driving at this point, too caught up in your mind to really pay attention to the time but by now it had gotten very dark and you found yourself on this old road going through a small town in the woods. You vaguely remember passing through the small community about half an hour ago. Of course you hadn't stopped in the town in fear of being noticed or recognised somehow. But now you’re wishing you had stopped at that little gas station and at least tried to get an ounce of gas with the spare change left in the middle console. The car was officially running out of gas. In the middle of nowhere. Just your luck. 

 “Are you serious?” You asked no one with tears starting to fill your eyes.

Feeling the difference in the vehicle causes you to pull off to the side of the road with a groan. You know it won't be going any further with the way it just gives up there on the side. Turning off the car and leaning your head against the wheel you let out a light sob. This wasn't the life you had envisioned for yourself. Once upon a time you thought one day you would meet your true mate, a caring alpha who would love you for you and want to make you happy. Seems as though that was just a fairytale after all. Even your parents weren’t true mates. They just settled for each other. You knew you couldn’t let that be you. You wouldn’t settle, especially not for a vile man you didn't love. 

It was too late now to leave the car. This is where you will be staying for the night. Good thing it was late spring and not winter or you would freeze out here. Once your tears have slowed and the sobs have ceased you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“You will be ok.” You repeat to yourself a few times. “You will be ok. You will be ok.” 

Will you though? It didn't matter. You had to be. With one last sigh you locked the doors and climbed into the backseat of the old car. Its seats were worn and uncomfortable but it somehow felt comforting. It felt like the last remaining bit you had from childhood. When things were simple for you. Were things ever that simple as you remembered it being though? Before presenting as an omega when you were 16 things were definitely simple. You had assumed along with everyone else that you would be a beta and go on to have a normal life. Sure sometimes you were a little agreeable and always had a gentle nature, but you had just thought you took after your mom in that aspect. Little did you know you would take after her in a different way. It wasn’t until you presented that it made sense to the pack why you were that way. It was then that the looks began from other pack members. The way their eyes would linger on you a little too hard. The way their nostrils would flare when you entered a room. It made your skin crawl thinking back.

From that point on there was no more public school for you. You were homeschooled the last few years of high school for your protection. “We're doing this to protect you not punish you, Y/N.” your father had said when he forbade you from going back to school. “You can't trust anyone these days. Not around an omega.” He was right. The thought never crossed your mind that you couldn't even trust your own parents. You wished you had been born a beta like your sister, or even an alpha like your brother. Being the youngest out of three you figured you would be like them. 

The worst part was you didn't have the suppressants you had been taking since you were a teen. They were almost impossible to come by normally, but your father had somehow gotten his hands on a steady supply and had been forcing you to take them. Another thing that was for your protection. To keep alphas from detecting you by scent. You hadn't taken any this morning before you left so you imagine your scent was going to start leaking out for any one nearby to smell. Great. Another problem for tomorrow.

Adjusting yourself on the seat to lay down as much as you could, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing. It wouldn't be long before sleep overcame you. The exhaustion of the whole ordeal catching up with you. 

__________________________________________________________

The sun peaking through the trees awoke you from your surprisingly restful slumber. It seemed to be early morning if the dew on the windows was any indication. Peeking out the window you saw nothing around. Not even any animals. Perfect. You slowly unlocked the door and crept out quietly shutting the door behind you. Taking careful steps a few yards into the thickets ahead of you and relieving yourself helped you feel a little better. You made your way back to the car and took a second to breathe. In and out. In and out. The air was crisp and refreshing and helped you clear your head. 

Now feeling a little better you noticed how bad your stomach was growling at you. Reaching into the trunk of the car you pulled out a small can of spaghetti o’s. Not your first choice of a meal but when you panic you grab what you figure will be easiest to take with you. Plus you could use a can as a weapon if needed! 

Eating was the last thing on your mind yesterday, but now you knew you could no longer put it off. Popping a can open and taking a seat on the hood of the car with a spoon you dug into the food. It was….. food . Cold and disappointing but at the same time satisfying as you had an empty stomach. 

There you were, sitting there on the old car contemplating your next move from here with now a half full can of disappointment, when you catch a scent in the air getting stronger with each passing second. It was another person, no it was people. More than one. 

Fuck

You have been found. Whether by the packs that were after you or by a stranger it didn’t matter all you felt was terror. 

There was no time to flee. Before you could even move from the hood you could feel a pair of eyes on you to the right of you. You twist your head to face the eyes that are peaking out at you from the trees ahead. 

The stranger takes a tentative step towards you and comes out from hiding and you immediately go into fight or flight. 

     With an alarmed shout “NO”, you launched the half full can of spaghetti o’s at the intruder, hitting him square in the chest and sending the cold contents all across his shirt. 

“What the fuck?!” the possible assailant yelled. 

Spotting another figure approaching the first one you threw yourself back off the hood and onto the ground, then as quickly as possible you yanked the door open to the car and jammed yourself in locking it immediately. You made yourself as small as possible as to not be seen by them but you knew the damage had been done. There was no way out of this. No gas in the tank and even if there was you had no idea where your keys had gone.  

You could hear them talking but you were too frightened to pick up any of the words except girl, mess and Alpha. Now you really felt terror. Without realizing how close they had been to you, you let out a shriek when there was a sudden knock on the window next to you. 

Not daring to look at them for even a second you yelled through the glass “Please go away! Please please I don’t deserve this!” tears filled your eyes. 

__________________________________________________________

The smell of your distress was making Seungmins and Jeongins eyes water. They had never experienced such a powerful scent before. Not even the odor from the Spaghetti Os covering Seungmins shirt would distract from the one coming from within the vehicle. The beta wanted to be mad that she had pretty much assaulted him, but at the same time couldn’t find it within himself to care much given how much pure terror he smelled coming from the young woman. The omega.  

The young alpha Jeongin felt similarly now that he had eyes on her he felt this overwhelming urge to protect. He had never encountered one before and honestly thought he never would but now that he was laying eyes on her he felt his alpha side perk up. A part of him never wanted to stop looking at her.

Honestly the boys didn’t know what to expect when they came out here to investigate the scent that had appeared on their land late into the night. They truly didn’t expect the cause to be an omega girl that was holed up on the side of a path. 

Seungmin tried knocking again, a little more timid this time so as not to frighten her more. “Excuse me, we could smell your distress. Do you need any help?” He asked slowly. 

You spared him one quick glance then shrunk into yourself again. “No thank you, please go!” 

He sighed and stepped back a few feet to look at Jeongin in amazement at the situation.  Giving him one small nod he said “ We need to call Chan.” 

__________________________________________________________

What felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, passed and you stayed in your same position. The boys had remained there but not so close to the car anymore to which you were thankful. They were quietly mumbling amongst themselves, no doubt about an omega being caught out here alone. Every so often you would move your head just slightly to peer over at them. You hadn’t noticed before in your initial panic but they were pretty cute young men. A beta and an alpha from what you could tell. Even covered in your thrown breakfast (a shame about that really) they still managed to carry themselves proudly. Though your smell is causing their faces to scrunch up, you could tell it was taking it's toll on them.

Not even a moment later after taking another look at them you could feel the change in the air as another pair of people was approaching. Not just anybody was coming this way, it was an Alpha. A very strong one at that. The smell was starting to permeate all of your senses and was quickly becoming intoxicating. 

You could sense him before he even appeared. No matter how intrigued you may be though you can’t show weakness.

 ‘Keep your head down and wait it out’ you kept telling yourself like a mantra.  

You knew he was approaching your door. It took everything in you to remain still. Then as if struck by lightning you felt your body alight like it never has before. 

“Omega..” 

(A/N: Please do not steal my writing and content! Reblogs and comments are encouraged tho 😙once again i would LOVE to hear your thoughts and theories! This has not been beta read all mistakes are my own.)

©doitforbangchan 

TAGLIST

@ihrtlix @realrintaro @meowmeeps

[spenceragnewfics]

f!reader losing virginity to spencer ? maybe as "just friends" to help her "get it out of the way" but they really like each other.

So...this was supposed to come out on Spencer's birthday but work and life got in the way...sorry.

WE’RE JUST FRIENDS? | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader | 18+ MINORS DNI

(also, yes the girl in the photo has a certain skin color but it's not indicative of the reader. I try to make these open to everyone as possible.)

TW: Smut, oral (f! receiving), fingering, cursing, two idiots in love

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

DESCRIPTION: You have told you're best friend Spencer everything...well except two things. You're in love with him and you're still a virgin. Two things you never plan to tell him...until you do.

She never understood why people couldn’t just be friends. Opposite genders can be friends and not have any romantic feelings. Is it kind of hypocritical coming from her…yeah, but not totally. 

You see, Y/N has feelings for her best friend since college but is purely platonic with all her other male friends; Chanse, Shayne, Tommy, Ian, Anthony, and all the other guys at Smosh. She knows the main reason she’s attracted to Spencer and has been for years, he’s himself. It’s hard to explain unless you know Spencer but what made her fall for him…is him.

It’s not like her feelings are so intense she couldn’t date anyone else, in fact, she’s dated a couple of guys but they haven’t lasted for vastly different reasons. One thing has been one of the constant reasons for the break up, you don’t want to sleep with them.

She doesn't know why, but she has yet to date anyone who has made her feel comfortable enough to lose her virginity to, not wanting to regret it later on. That’s something she hasn’t told anyone, not even Spencer because she doesn't know how to explain why she hasn't yet. It’s something she never thought she would tell him until one night of drinks, pizza, and gaming. A semi-regular night for the two of them, especially after a long shoot week.

It was barely midnight, the two of them had been hanging out for like four hours at this point just talking, eating, and trying to beat the other at Mario Kart or play duos on Fortnite.

The night had gotten away from them after an epic Battle Royale about an hour ago where they celebrated with an extra drink and chatting. Like everything, somehow they got onto the topic of dating, both of them being single for almost, or over in Spencer's case, a year. That then delved into talking about more intimate stuff, “Honestly, I’m so fucking happy that I lost my virginity in high school. I could not imagine still being a virgin now. Too much pressure.” He quips after he makes a joke about the movie 40-year-old Virgin.

Y/N looks at him confused and lowkey, panicking, “Why do you say that? I don’t think it’d be that bad.” She confesses, sipping more of her drink. “Dude, when you’re in high school or college it’s all just part of the experience. You barely have dated anyone so there isn’t much pressure. Now though, fuck dude!” He says, rubbing his face in frustration at the thought and she looks down.

“There would be so much pressure at this point. You’ve dated so many people and at this point, it’s probably just you being in your head.”

“Or you’re scared to give it away and regret it. Guys losing their virginity is a lot more different than girls. You have to remember that, Spence. A lot more at stake too.” She looks at him, trying to show a stoic face but Spencer isn’t buying it.

Y/N is always someone who tries to show both sides of the coin but is usually more silly about it. Now, she’s being very serious and trying to act stoic, like she’s hiding something. It’s not something he wouldn’t have noticed unless they had been friends this long.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. I know you’re all about being things neutral but this seems like a bit more than usual. What’s up?” She looks at him confused, trying not to get embarrassed and say something she doesn’t want to. “Nothing, I just think that sometimes this whole thing is oversimplified.” He raises an eyebrow, “You’re acting like you’re still…” He trails off when she looks down and squeezes her eyes shut.

“Oh my god! Y/N! What the fuck! I thought you and-”

“We were but I changed my mind. Every time I thought about possibly losing it to him I felt nothing but dread. Same thing with the other guys. I don’t want to regret it.” She plays with her fingers, not wanting to look him in the eye.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She looks at him shocked, “Why would I need to tell you? It’s personal but also how the hell do I bring that up?” She says before speaking in a silly voice, “Oh, Spencer, I gotta tell ya, buddy. I’m a virgin because I get major anxiety and overthink it to where I just haven’t done it.” She does a silly laugh that sounds a lot like Goofy.

“Okay, I get it. This is a sensitive topic, I’m sorry.” He apologizes, looking at her sadly and she feels her heart pinch. “It’s not that. I just…I want to. I want to so badly but I just get so anxious and overthink everything. Sometimes I think that it’d be easier to find someone to hook up with or just get an escort or something.” She looks at him, “Or someone I have been friends with forever basically and I trust more than anything.”

Spencer looks at her confused until she raises a brow and he gets the message, “Oh, you mean me? Really?” She nods, playing with her fingers again as she gets nervous. “Yeah, I mean. I know I wouldn’t regret it with you because you’re my best friend. I don’t think there is a guy I trust more than you.” She confesses, making his face light up.

“I would be honored. Holy shit, you won’t regret this. I promise.” He says, sounding like an excited young kid who just got picked first for baseball. She giggles at his silly antics before letting out a shocked yelp when he pulls her close. “So, are you more dominant or submissive or…” She shrugs her shoulders. Spencer shrugs his as well before putting his hand on her cheek, pulling her in gently before connecting their lips.

She puts her hand on his as her other moves into his hair. He sighs into the kiss as her nails scratch at his scalp, sending chills down his spine. Gently, he lays her down on the couch as his lips move to cheek then to her jaw, and landing lastly on her neck.

He feels his pants tighten as she lets out soft sighs from his lips on her sensitive neck. His tongue licks a long stripe along it before he sucks on her pulse point. Her hand pulls at his hair in response as she mutters out his name softly, the sound making him harder by the second.

Unknown to Y/N, Spencer was slowly coming to the realization of his own feelings for her. What he would always brush off as anxiety of her dating someone new and unknown to him has turned out to be jealously. Jealous that these random guys would take you out and not him. He finally has his chance to test the waters…well test a little more than the waters.

His lips continue to work on her neck but stop when she starts to giggle. “What, what’s so funny?” He asks, moving back a little and chuckling himself. “Your beard tickles a bit. I like it though.” She’s coy about her words, he smiles at her shyness before going back to kissing her neck as she giggles again.

This is nothing he’s felt before. The other girls he had dated and slept with were all serious about sex. They didn’t want or think that sex could be playful and fun but in this moment Spencer feels his heart soar. He’s pulled out of his trance as she tries to pull off his t-shirt, he helps her take the article of clothing off before slipping his hands under her shirt.

He holds back a moan just at the feeling of her lace bra, not even seeing it in person. She giggles before slipping the shirt over her head and swears his eyes are popping out of his head. “I knew you had awesome tits, but holy fuck!” He groans as he puts his face between them.

His warm breath fans over them, sending chills down her body before his warm tongue licks her lace-covered nipple. She bites her lip as he does the same to the other before pulling her bra down to expose the flesh fully.

A strangled moan falls from her lips when he wraps his around her right nipple. His thumb and forefinger play with her left, rolling and gently tugging it. She feels herself getting wetter with each tug as her hands tangle in his hair. He continues to stimulate her nipples for a while before moving down with open mouth kisses.

“Spence, you don’t have to-”

“I want you, now sit back relax and enjoy the show.” He jokes with his sassy smirk before kissing her plush thighs. She sighs comfortably at the feeling before laughing when he playfully bites her thigh. “Sorry, you just tasted too good not to have a bite.”

Her eyes stay on him as his beard tickles her thigh before he moves to be face-first with her pussy. His finger come up to spread her lips as she feels her cheeks heat up, not used to having someone see so much of her. Her thighs start to close but Spencer stops them before they can. “Don’t hide yourself. You’re beautiful.” He assures her as he licks a long strip up her slit.

The new feeling makes her eyes roll as she breathes shakily. He continues to give long licks before moving to suck on her clit. “Holy fuck!” She moans, her hands quickly finding a place in his hair as she relishes in the new feeling.

She had used vibrators and other toys but nothing had felt like this before. His tongue swirls around her clit a few times before sucking again. He moves a finger to her entrance, “I’m going to put a finger in. It might feel weird at first.” She nods, moving a hand down to his arm. She releases a breath at the uncomfortable feeling, her hand squeezes his arm.

“Are you okay?” He asks his finger fully inside. “Yeah, just feels… different.” She confesses as she starts to feel embarrassed. “It’ll feel better in a bit, just gotta get you warmed up a bit.” His finger thrusts in and out for a moment before he adds a second. She moans softly when adds a second and whimpers as they move. “Is it feeling better?” He asks, she responds with a sweet moan that makes his cheeks heat up.

His fingers continue going in and out, stretching her out slightly. His fingers graze the spongy spot inside her, “Oh my, do that again! Please.” She begs. The feeling made her see stars, who is Spencer not to please? His finger rubs the spongy spot as she starts to feel herself get close.

“Yes, yes, just like that-Fuck!” She screams when his lips wrap around her clit again. He licks and sucks intermittently while still playing with her G-spot as she screams his name. “Spencer! Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” She yells as the knot in her stomach snaps.

He licks and sucks her clean before sitting up. Pulling off his hoodie and pants. He aligns himself with her leaking hole, “This will probably hurt, but it’ll subside. I promise.” She nods as he slowly pushes in.

While the tight feeling makes him moan loudly, having been a while since he slept with anyone, Y/N bites her lip, the feeling being intruding and uncomfortable. Noticing her discomfort, he leans down and kisses her sweetly, trying to distract her as he continues to sink in.

Spencer is just a bit above average in length but more girthy than most. The stretch is something Y/N will come to love but for the first time, it’s a different feeling than anything she’s ever felt. Her face unconsciously skews in a bit of pain when he’s fully inside.

Leaning down, he locks their lips. His hips are still as he gives her time to adjust, the feeling of her wrapped around him is making it hard to keep still though. Her hands tangle in his hair once again and gently pull when she’s adjusted, giving them the okay to move.

His thrusts start out slow, letting her body adjust to the new sensations and the starting pain slowly melts away. He intertwines their fingers as he thrusts at the same pace. The gesture is small but is enough to make her feel safe and loved by the man on top of her.

It takes about a minute before Y/N starts to moan, “Faster, please Spencer.” She begs needing to feel more. It takes everything in him not to smirk as his hips pick up speed. “Oh god.” She moans, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him close.

Spencer keeps a steady fast pace, his tip hitting her G-Spot as he moves his hips a little. The only sounds in the room are skin-on-skin, moans, and heavy breathing. The two are eye-locked, watching the other’s face and expressions.

“Shit, I’m close.” Y/N moans, feeling the familiar knot forming. “Me too, shit,” Spencer groans as his hand moves to rub her clit. “Fuck, Spencer!” She practically screams with the added sensation.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Please cum all over me.” He moans, his thrusts getting sporadic.  She screams his name as the knot bursts in her stomach and she cums on his dick. He groans as she clenches around him, making it hard for him to not cum inside her. He continues to thrust through her high before he starts to breathe very heavily.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He struggles to get out, feeling very close. “I don’t care.” She says, her voice very breathy. He pulls out and only strokes himself a few times before he cums on her chest.

Coming down from his high, the two look at each other and then laugh. “Oh my god, that was amazing. How the hell are you still single?” She jokes as he lays on top of her. “Just haven’t found the right one yet.” He says, his eyes looking at her softly as she runs a hand through his hair.

“Maybe you just haven’t been looking in the right places.” She smiles at him and he leans in, “Or maybe I just have been overlooking a certain someone.” he says before kissing her.

[gayerthanevertbh]

competitor - training season pt. 1

natasha romanoff masterlist | series masterlist | navigation

summary: you were a fierce competitor who aspired to be the top female tennis player in the world, and there is no way you can compete with the famous natasha romanoff on the tennis court. every time she volunteered to coach you, there was a condition: to sleep with her. with this routine, both of you grew closer than ever. however, another woman had already taken her place in court before you could even see her. game, set, match. who will you choose? natasha weakens you, but louise jones revives you.

warnings: natasha being extremely seductive, mentions of sex, and manipulative natasha - minors dni

notes: this story is probably my favorite since i could say it's very well written but enjoy x

Whoosh!

That was the initial sound that sparked my passion for tennis. It is all about the way players approach the game and their level of enthusiasm when hitting the ball. It captivates me to the point where I could sit and watch tennis matches all day if I had to. I lean back with a Coke in one hand and inhale deeply, taking in the scent of the outdoors. Then, following a brief interval, an additional whoosh! was produced. With every missed shot, MJ's grip on the racket tightened as she stood on the tennis court. She stared at the net, frustration written all over her face as sweat glistened on her forehead. Usually she was so calm, but tonight she felt like she was being betrayed with every serve and return. I sympathized with the other players as I watched from the sidelines. Something was obviously wrong since her movements had become stiff and jerky, replacing her customary grace. Today, the game served as more than simply a pastime; it served as a battlefield for whatever was bothering her.

“Thirty, love.”

“Fuck!” I felt a chill run down my spine as I overheard MJ furiously hurling her racket across the court. When I think of MJ, I picture an optimistic, self-assured, and cheerful person who uses very few profanity words. I suppose she did not hit the ball properly because this is the first time I have heard it. 

MJ was defeated when her last serve went slightly outside the line. As the umpire's call resounded throughout the quiet court, Michael Jackson's shoulders lowered in surrender. With a fake smile, she approached the net and held out her hand to her opponent. Her expression of sportsmanship was masking the annoyance and despair I could see in her eyes from where I was standing on the sidelines. It was hard to see as her once-bubbly confidence crumbled and was replaced with a worn-out acceptance of her loss. I wanted to soothe her as she turned away from the net, but I didn't know how to say it. 

MJ didn’t win.

“30, 40.”

I got up and went over to MJ, who was slumped over on the bench after the game, because he looked beat. As she chugging away with all her might, she grabbed the water bottle from my hand and gave it to her. "Something is not right," I said.

“Damn right,” she said as she threw the bottle out of the way. “Fuckin’ Garcia did it all. I was close, so close!”

“I think there’s something wrong with your leg.”

She slowly shifted her gaze to me and emitted a fake laugh. “If there was something wrong with my leg, then I wouldn’t play in the first place.”

As we sat down next to her on the bench, I let out a sigh and watched as the court became increasingly silent as everyone left. After that, I told her the truth while turning to look her in the eyes. Denying it while continuing to wipe off her perspiration, she shakes her head. One thing that should be known about MJ is that she possesses an unwavering sense of pride, particularly when it comes to tennis. So it was; she was supposedly one of New York's top young female players. Perhaps she was feeling overwhelmed by her family's expectations that she excel as a player or that her argument with Jason had a negative impact on her mood today. She refuses to acknowledge that there is a problem with her. Like her, I aspired to be the best at what I do; she is confident in her abilities. 

“Are you coming later at my place?” I asked. 

“I don’t know; Jason wants to have dinner with me. He said that he got me a new coach.”

“Oh?” As I observed her rise to her feet, an arch formed in my eyebrow. “It must be nice to finally get a new one. Clint wasn’t so great, I assume?”

MJ shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know; yeah, maybe.”

“Is there something wrong? I hate to push your buttons—”

“It’s just embarrassing, Y/N,” she says with a loud groan. “My parents were watching me! Now they’re going to tell me that I need to do better, I have to be better.”

After a brief moment of silence, MJ spun around to give me a mischievous smile. “What about you, Ms. Rogers? Aren’t you going to train for today?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t have a coach. Besides, I’m too tired for today. I’ll probably do some drills tomorrow morning.”

"Well, if you need anything, just send me a message. You know I’m just one call away, Y/N. I can hire you a coach if that’s what you want.”

"You have been there for me through thick and thin; I am doing fine," I told her, burying my nose in her neck and embracing her tightly. “Let me know what happens with Jason.”

I parked the car by the curb and silenced the radio, squinting as I thought about the game from earlier in the day. If I have to be the best, I have to do more training, I thought to myself with a loud sigh coming out of my mouth. I was a huge tennis fanatic as a kid and used to binge-watch matches on TV. In particular, the tennis legend Natasha Romanoff, who was a friend of my father's. I climbed out of the vehicle, secured the door, and made my way inside my home. Just as I was about to make my way to the kitchen, I heard the patio door open. I peeked out of the picture and saw my dad and his friend Natasha enjoying some orange juice and sandwiches. Seeing her makes my heart race; it is almost a wake-up call. 

Whenever I saw her on TV, I felt an instant crush on her. I mean, who could resist Natasha Romanoff's allure?

Just as I was ready to leave, my father's voice reached my ears. “Y/N, you’re home! Why don’t you join me and Natasha for some snacks?”

I walked out of the house and waved to Natasha, who looked even more menacing despite her calm demeanor. I can feel her stare crawl against my skin, tightening my throat. “Hi, Nat.”

With a deep, rough voice, she says, "Hello, darling," and removes the cigarette from her full lips. “Did you train today?”

“No, I just watched MJ’s game today.”

"MJ, Mj," she muttered to herself, possibly trying to recall who MJ actually is. Her words trailed off after that. She grinned and turned her head back to face me. “Carter Jones’ daughter? I’m surprised that she plays.”

“She’s a huge fan of you,” I said with a giddy voice. And so am I. “Have you been visiting Carter?” She took a drag from her cigarette as I poured myself a glass of orange juice and took a seat next to my father. 

“No, I haven’t. We’re sort of in a thin line right now.”

“Is that so?” my father asked. 

She comments, "Susan and I were not going to work in the first place," bringing up Carter's spouse. She and Susan were a couple in the past, as my father told me. I must have been so young to have forgotten that she was with Susan. “How’s MJ? Still hotheaded?”

I nodded with a small smile on my face. “Still very hotheaded.”

She blew the smoke from her mouth and looked at me silently. The atmosphere grew more intense the longer she stared at me. “I see. How old are you now, hon?”

“I just turned 22.”

“In college, I assume?”

“Yes, I study at Standford.”

With a devilish smile, Natasha gives my father a wink. “She’s following your footsteps.”

He pats on my shoulder as he lets out a squeezed laugh. “I didn’t force her to go there, for your information. She even begged me to let her in!”

“Dad, stop—”

“Have you gotten yourself a coach, Y/N?” My throat was getting even drier, and Natasha asked, licking her teeth and pushing her used cigarette into the ashtray. Given that I have not been able to locate a suitable coach in London, this was one of the more difficult questions. In addition, I am not even sure if tennis is the sport I want to play. To be honest, I was only intelligent in terms of academics. Apart from that, though, who am I really meant to be? I was obsessed with tennis; it was my life. But if I am not good enough, how can I love tennis?

“Uh, no. I haven’t.”

Leaning back against the chair, she smacked her lips after finishing her glass of orange juice. “I would want to coach you, but I’ve been very busy these days.”

As she extended her hand to hold my hand, I felt my cheeks flushed—not literally. I laughed nervously and scratched my arm. 

“T-that’s fine, Natasha. I know how busy you are.”

“I’m only here for a couple of weeks. I’d stay here even more if I’m not being called back to New York.”

I got up, kissed my father's cheek, and said in a hushed voice that I was going to bed early. I smiled courteously at Natasha as I turned to face her again, and he nodded and squeezed my arm. “I’ll take a nap, see you guys later.”

Before I left the garden, she gave me one last smile. The more I hear my footsteps, the more my heart races, and I return to my room as if nothing had happened. Is she aware that she is forcing me? She has always drew me in, even as a young girl. She seemed like a sister to me at first, but as I kept seeing her on magazine covers, my admiration for her beauty grew. As the coach I used to have before said, love means zero. 

Love means nothing. 

When I woke up, it was already late at night. At the moment, I sighed and headed for the kitchen, grabbing my bottle of water. As I poured myself a cold glass of water, I opened the refrigerator and discovered a container of food that they had most likely eaten at dinner. I put it on the counter. I started to consider asking MJ to find me a coach before the next week began while I was eating there by myself. However, I was astounded to see Natasha emerge from her room and make her way to the kitchen.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were up.” After Natasha brought it up, she grabbed my glass and drank nearly half of it. 

“I must’ve been so tired that I forgot dinner,” I chuckled to myself. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“You didn’t.”

She took a big breath and peered at me with her dark green eyes, observing that my red polka-dot shorts were paired with simply a tank top. Grinning, she moved on, opening the refrigerator and filling my glass with water. “Sorry, I was thirsty.”

“It’s okay.”

I caught her wearing a tight black shirt and gray leg-hugging jogging pants as we stood there silently. Even at night, her appearance was ethereal. For fifteen years, I was younger than her; in fact, I was practically two decades younger. Maybe she would give me a chance if I were older or if she were younger. 

But I can’t look at her that way; I just can’t.

"It is cold," she remarks once more in that deep voice, glancing out the large window in front of us. “Why are you wearing that?”

“I prefer the cold,” I replied. 

“Well, I think you should wear something more... Less revealing.”

Was she critiquing my choice of dress? Though I was confused, I refrained from showing her my feelings for fear that she would take offense. I definitely did not want to witness Natasha becoming enraged. When I was younger, I recall witnessing an argument between my father and her regarding tennis. She threatened him by stomping her foot on the ground and hurling her glass, causing her to grab his neck. They never talked about what had happened that day, so I have no idea.

“Do you not like the way I dress?”

She took a breath and shook her head. “I think if you wore something like that in public, I’d be angry.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, if you haven’t been aware, I’ve been protective when it comes to you. You are Steve’s daughter, after all. Of course, I have the right,” She leaned in closer to me, shrugging her shoulders. I could feel my head being tickled by her breath. “Have you gotten yourself a coach?”

“I-I was supposed to call MJ, but you distracted me.”

“Is that so, darling?”

I took another swallow and found myself drawn to her once more. This was wrong, I thought to myself. This is just so wrong.

“I actually have a proposal for you, Y/N. But you can turn it down if you’d like.”

My heart skipped a beat as I felt her hand slide the strand of hair behind my ear and smile. I tried to look away as quickly as possible, but I was unable to. I simply could not stop staring at her, absorbing every second of it into my being. 

Was she attracted to me too?

“I would coach you to be one of the best players out there if you return something.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying not to smile from the excitement. “W-what is it?”

Natasha licked her bottom lip and cocked her head slightly to the side, as though she was tempted to kiss me. But she leaned closer until I could feel her breath on my ear. 

“I will coach you if you agree to sleep with me.”

What?

“Huh—”

“That’s right,” she says again, but this time it becomes more devious. “You heard me.”

My whole body tensed up, and my cheeks flushed. It is unbelievable that someone of her caliber, Natasha Romanoff, would ask me to have a sexual relationship if I would just allow her to mentor me. Though I was aware of my desperation, was this really what I wanted? I stepped back, trying to get my bearings. If I were to sleep with her, on the off-hand basis, I would also get to train under one of the greatest female tennis players of all time. She was aware of the way in which she was treating me; she could discern that I harbored feelings for her.

“But my dad would know—”

“He will never know, sweetheart.” With a cooing voice, she interrupts me and puts both her hands on my waist. “We only get to know this. No one will know that you’re whoring yourself out for me, baby girl—I mean, no one will know that we’re sleeping together if ever.”

“Whoring? Myself?” I let out a tiny laugh as I shook my head in response, as if this were all a joke to me. “You’re kidding, Nat. Right?”

“Do you want to be the best?” Natasha asked in a demeaning way, and I quickly felt the need to stop talking. It was best if I had said nothing at all first. “Then if I were you, you should take this as an opportunity.”

“How is this an opportunity if I’m going to let you use me?”

“My, my, raising your voice at me, are you now?” With a quiet giggle, she made a threat, her gaze fixed on mine. She put her hand on my forearm and brought it up to her navel. “I’d shut that mouth if I was going to sleep with you tonight. But you know what, I’ll let you have time to think about it.”

Natasha took my arm and walked away, whispering, “Goodnight, darling. I need an immediate answer starting tomorrow.”

Something was leaking out of my core as soon as she left me in the kitchen by myself. I was so mad at myself and that she would turned me on that I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe I would be a normal girl if she were not enticing me with her tonight. However, the truth is that I would like to open up to her. I’d do anything for her. 

It was Natasha Romanoff; who could compete?

[rottingcorps3s]

older man!neighbor!price

aaaayyyoo??? my little thing i posted last night kinda popped off. here’s another one before i fall off again (10 whole reblogs?? you guys are so cute).

price is sliiiightly older in this. think like mid to late 40’s. older man, next door neighbor. i envision this in a timeline where he retired early. this is very house-wife, american pie dream kinda deal. what can i say (hawk screech). OBVIOUSLY, some puss eating. what’s the reverse of a munch? not the one who eats, but the one who is eaten? cause that’s me. there’s a decent amount of set up for this one, but its not too long.

Part 2

-

neighbor!price is the kind of person you see that makes you pick up your phone and call your friends to tell them about the ‘hot ass dilf’ that you just saw leave the house next to yours. you had been in and out of the house all day, cleaning and moving in the smaller pieces of furniture into the previously vacant home.

the sun was just setting when you decided to stop, your clothes slightly damp from the thin coat of sweat that covered your body. you had taken the chance to finally sit down for the first time today, your body giving in as you plopped down onto the wooden steps that lead up to the porch.

you saw a car in the distance slowly approaching, it didn’t catch your attention again until it turned into the driveway adjacent to your home. a few seconds after it parked, an older man stepped out.

“well helllloooo neighbor…” you mumbled to yourself, smirking before deciding to stand up and greet him. just a new neighbor doing their neighborly duties of introducing themselves °_°

he hadn’t been paying attention until he saw your shadow being casted on the ground next to him. he turned his head to look at you.

his eyes locked with yours, boring into your skull the longer you looked at him. his face was covered in blonde and white hair, his beard kept fairly short. he was built too, his biceps practically being the size of your head, his t-shirt leaving little to the imagination.

it had felt like minutes since you approached him, staring into his eyes as he waited for you to say something.

“he-i just moved-next door-neighbor!!” you struggled to get out, your mouth suddenly becoming dry now that you are face-to-face. he gave you a tight lipped smile, nodding his head once before extending his hand out.

“john.” he said simply, “i live next door.” he smirked, his tone dry, but kinda humorous? or maybe he was just making fun of your struggle to introduce yourself. (YEEESSSSS MAKE FUN OF ME MAKE ME FEEL INFERIOR….srry, need to control myself).

you said your goodbyes and didn’t even get through the front door before you were calling your friend.

-

the next few days were exhausting. the movers had finally shown up and you were finally able to sleep in your bed once again. your home was still filled with boxes upon boxes upon boxes but you were determined to finally take a night to relax.

god must’ve had the devil on speed dial that night, because NOTHING went right. what was supposed to be a quiet night in bed with a glass of wine, quickly turned into a disaster when you went to take a shower. you had opted for a bath the last few nights, enjoying the warmth on your achy muscles from unpacking.

you pulled the tab that would usually start the shower head; you didn’t even have time to process what happened before you were drenched in water. you let out a panicked scream, trying to backtrack and shut off the water. the shower head had come clean off and was now spraying water over the entire room.

you were frozen in place, unsure of what to do or who even to call. your body was moving faster than your brain, you were already out the front door and knocking on your neighbors door in a frenzy.

he was old…er. he looked like a dad! he definitely would know what to do!

price was puzzled by the scene in front of him when he opened the door. you were soaked beyond belief, your hair sticking to your forehead, your eyes wide like you were a deer in headlights.

“can you please help me!” you begged, your voice so soft and sweet, your lips pouting out every so slightly. “my-my fucking shower exploded, or something!”

he agreed, following behind you with a small tool bag in his hand. you left a trail of water behind you, your bare feet hitting the concrete of the sidewalk as you walked quickly back to your home. john would never admit it, but he was staring. the shirt you wore was soaked and clung tightly to your body. outlining your figure.

john was able to rectify the situation rather quickly, even teaching you a few things about homeownership whilst he did. he was able to find the water shut off valve in your basement, stopping the water from spraying and almost flooding your bathroom. he also reattached the shower head, making sure it would actually stay out this time.

you thanked him profusely, over and over and over again all the way back to his front door where you followed him. you said your goodbyes, not without saying thank you one more time.

but it just wasn’t enough. that man, your neighbor, a stranger, john. was considerate enough to go out of his way to help you. you had to make it up to him! so you did…

by baking!! obviously!! :)

chocolate chip cookies, of course. everyone likes a good cookie!

once they were done and cooked you wrapped them up in plastic wrap, a small note attached to the top.

a thank you note.

you dropped them off on his doorstep the next morning, leaving them there for him to find.

-

the next few months were pretty consistent. thankfully, no more shower head explosions. you had a few problems here and there, but nothing you couldn’t fix!!…or that john could fix for you…

you paid him in baked goods and hot meals. even going out of your way to find out his favorites. he didn’t mind, he enjoyed it, maybe a little too much.

you had been out of town for a few days, taking an extra long weekend to go out and have fun. john agreed he would keep an eye on your house while you were gone. making sure nothing or nobody messed with it.

he would’ve done it even if you didn’t ask him

when you returned home you made it a priority to make dinner for both yourself and john that night. a quick and yummy thank you.

you packed the food in a small container, sticking a little note to the top just explaining what you made and what was in it. you might’ve drawn a little heart or two on it as well, but i’ll never tell.

you were in a pale yellow sun dress, the bottom of the dress juuuuusst barely covering the top half of your thighs. you knocked on john’s door, box of food in hand with a smile on your face. the door swung open, but it wasn’t john.

it was another man. a black man with sharp features and short hair. “is john home, by chance?” you asked.

the man in front of you smiled widely, a sort of mischievous smile. a ‘i know something you don’t knooooow’.

he wasn’t given a chance to respond before the man was pulled back by his shoulder and john appeared in front of him. john was quick to shut the door, gently coaxing you to walk half way down the path in front of his house, away from the door. he had a look on his face, he seemed annoyed, not at you, but at the situation.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know you had company.” you smiled apologetically, “i just wanted to say thank you.” you said, holding up the container of warm food.

john gave a tight lipped smile back, graciously accepting the food.

“don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, “thank you.”

you went on your merry way, scampering your way back up your steps and into your house. not without a quick wave before the door slammed shut.

john held his head in his hands, letting out a deep breath before turning to head back inside. he could see 3 separate breaks in the blinds from where 3 people were peeking through. the second he noticed it, they were gone. blinds completely back to normal.

he walked back inside, preparing for the comments that would be made by his guests.

“she’s prettier than you described, cap.” said a smug Gaz, Johnny nodding frantically in agreement.

“Might have to snatch her up myself, old man.” Johnny joked. his joke being met with a harsh slap to the back of his head from Ghost.

-

it had been a few days since you had seen john. you were used to having at least one daily encounter with him, but now he seemed like he was avoiding you. you didn’t stress about it too much, just assumed he was busy with…whatever he did in his free time.

you were half a bottle of wine down when you heard a knock on the door. you weren’t expecting any visitors so you had decided to drink a little more than you usually would.

you swung the door open, all precautions to the wind as you didn’t even check who it was.

it was john.

“oh-john,” you smiled sweetly, his name sounded like the texture of honey when you spoke it. he liked it. he liked it a lot.

“can i come in?” he asked bluntly. he didn’t really wait for you to answer, pushing his way in and standing next to you.

so close to you.

“is something wrong?” you asked, a worried expression on your face. your brows furrowed in slight frustration. concern.

he was quiet, his breathing shaky as he thought of what to say. he had no idea of how to beat around the bush, how to say what he wanted to say without it being too forward. but what’s wrong with a little honesty?

“i want you so badly.” he said in a quiet, deep voice. his eyes looking directly into yours, holding eye contact.

you weren’t sure if you heard him right at first, thinking that your mind was playing tricks on you. making you think he said something else but there’s no way he said that…right?

“r-right now?” you asked.

he was surprised by your question, not at all expecting that kind of response.

he nodded.

all it took was a small nod back at him before he jumped your bones. his hands were hot and heavy as they touched and saw new areas of skin. your shirt was bunched up by your collarbones before you knew it, his tongue quickly finding place on your nipples.

gaaaawwwddd, he’d play with them forever if he could. making sure to keep them taut and wet for the rest of eternity. leaving sloppy wet kisses and small bite marks behind.

you had made it to the couch at some point, time was a blur for the moment. your only focus on the way his hands ravished your body.

he would periodically make eye contact with you before doing certain things. making sure that it’s what you wanted and that you were enjoying it. he had started to shimmy your panties down before looking at you again even tho he did just moments ago. you nodded enthusiastically, desperately wanting him to touch you.

he knew once they were off that he wouldn’t be able to control himself. he was on his kees; he had set you on one of the arms on the couch, one leg hanging loosely over his shoulder already while he held the other one in place.

yes his knees were screaming at him for acting like he had the same body he did in his 20’s. no he didn’t really care how much it’ll hurt later.

the second your underwear was off your leg, he was going for it. he used his thumbs to spread you open slightly, admiring it before licking a looooooong, slow stripe up the middle, ending on your clit.

he’d be such a fucking tease. going all in and bringing you right to the top of your peak before pulling away or slowing down. you’d protest, desperation dripping from your words.

he’d get you to a point where all you could say was “please please please please”. he’d finally decide to cave, not stopping this time. it was almost too much for you to handle, your legs trembling and shaking.

he wouldn’t stop after either. you’d pull at his hair, letting out a cry as you tried to pry him off. but you were just sooooo weak from the last one :,( after the 4th or 5th, maybe 6th? you had lost count. he would finally let you go. making sure to give your pussy a small smack, enjoying the small squeal you let out a little too much.

and he’d make sure to fuck you silly too. turning you so that you would hang over the arm of the couch. he had to completely support you weight, which was fine with him. he’d ask for permission before even pulling his dick out; he’d use your own wetness as lube to stroke himself a few times before pushing in.

god he was sooo big, much bigger than any guy your own age.

he would 100000% talk you through your orgasms. you can’t remember a single thing he said, but you remember it being amazing.

once you were both done, he would take care of you. no doubt about it. he’d carry you to bed, bring you water, dress you in a new pair of pajamas and as long as you invited him, he would cuddle up next to you and hold you.

HUGE into pillow talk. would just talk about anything and would listen to whatever you said. nodding along with you.

the next time you cooked for him, it was extra delicious. and he’d be sure to tell you that when returning the container the next morning.

but not without updating you in his new favorite meal.

you.

-

SOMEBODY SEDATE ME. oh my fucking gaaaawwedddd