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capuccinodoll · 1 month ago

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Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter one ♡

Summary: Joel Miller has been your best friend for four years, and your trust in him is as solid as ever. However, things go awry one night after a heated argument, and you find yourself in a position you never thought you'd be in: naked, underneath him, with his eyes devouring you like there's no tomorrow. And when you wake up the next morning, you know it right away, reality piercing your chest; things will never be the same again.

Word count: 9.4K

A/N: Okay, I was planning for the first chapter to be 4K words MAX, but my imagination went crazy with this lol I really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing this <3 warning: ANGST! don't forget to leave feedback, tell me what you think!

If you want to be on the tag list, let me know too.

You met him on the night of your twenty-second birthday, at the small party Cassie had put together for you in her dimly lit apartment. You hadn’t wanted much of a celebration, nothing bigger than a few close friends, and certainly not a group of strangers. But when Brianna swept in, holding hands with a man you didn’t know, and introduced him as her boyfriend, you felt a vague flicker of annoyance, the kind that accompanies unmet expectations.

"I thought it was just going to be us," you mumbled to Cassie, catching her in the kitchen as she poured herself another glass of wine.

She looked at you, her cheeks already flushed, eyes bright. "They're a few of my friends, too; they’re nice—you’ll like them if you give it a chance." She smiled, urging you to relax, as though she could tease you out of your mood. "It’s your birthday; don’t be so sullen."

"I didn’t know Brianna was bringing her boyfriend," you said quietly, as Cassie started back to the living room.

She paused, giving you a half-smile over her shoulder. "Neither did I, actually," she admitted, lowering her voice. "Apparently, they've been together for about a month. She’s really into him."

And she was. Brianna clung to him all night, her laughter spilling out freely, unrestrained and buoyant from the wine. It wasn’t long before someone suggested karaoke, and as voices rang out in the next room, you slipped quietly back into the kitchen, craving a moment of solitude. You were surprised to find Brianna’s boyfriend there, leaning against the counter, scrolling absently through his phone with a glass of water in hand.

He looked up, straightened, and offered you a tentative smile. “Oh, hi. Happy birthday,” he said, his voice warm but reserved. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier…”

“No worries,” you replied, your tone reassuring. “Thanks.”

He hesitated, as though weighing what to say next. “Are you having a good time?”

You gave a slight shrug. “It’s…” but before you could finish, he cut in with a knowing smile.

“It’s okay. I don’t love my birthday either.” His eyes glinted in the soft kitchen light, and you felt a small smile tugging at your own lips.

You looked at him then, really looked at him, allowing yourself the indulgence. “I didn’t want to admit it,” you said, feeling the faintest hint of heat rising to your cheeks. “What was your name again?”

“Joel,” he answered, his gaze drifting briefly back to his phone. “Sorry, I’m a little on edge tonight. Left my daughter with a new babysitter. I think she’s having a rough time.”

Your eyebrows rose in mild surprise; you hadn’t pegged him as a dad. You moved closer, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and asked, “How old is she?”

“Four. Her name’s Sarah.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you could tell he was tense. “It’s only the second time she’s been with this sitter, and apparently, she’s been crying all evening.”

“Oh, poor thing,” you murmured sympathetically. “She’s little. Changes like that must be hard on her.”

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the side as he typed something quickly on his phone. “I should probably get going. Brianna won’t love that idea; we’d planned to stay out…” He paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours, worry etched across his face. “You think she’ll be too mad?”

“No,” you assured him, though you knew Brianna wouldn’t be pleased. “Go be with your daughter. She’s little; she needs you. Brianna will understand.”

A grateful smile spread across Joel’s face, and for the first time, you noticed the faint dimple on his cheek. For a fleeting second, you wanted to reach out, trace it with your thumb.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt unintentional, yet steady. “I hope your night gets better once karaoke is over,” he added with a quiet laugh. "Wish me luck."

You chuckled, meeting his gaze. “Good luck, Joel.”

He left with that same soft smile, and you watched him go, his warm brown eyes leaving an odd impression, like an unclaimed memory. And, as expected, Brianna didn’t understand. She spent the rest of the night sulking, casting sharp words at Joel through her bitterness.

“You knew he had a daughter when you got with him, this was bound to happen at some point,” Cassie told her, fed up with the other's complaints.

You didn't hear the answer, as you were distracted by watching the colorful pictures someone had put on the television.

You heard nothing more from Joel for a couple of weeks, until Cassie blurted out the gossip one morning while you were having lunch at her house.

“He broke up with her,” she began to tell you. “He told her she wasn't being empathetic and that he couldn't drop everything to party with her as if they had no responsibilities.”

It was no surprise. Brianna was a woman who lived at night; she was twenty-three years old and enjoyed it with the freedom that was rightfully hers. You couldn't blame her for wanting to have fun with her boyfriend. But Joel lived a very different reality than she did; at twenty-eight, he had a daughter to take care of, routines to follow, and a lot of work to do.

Although you thought it would take her longer to get over him, it wasn't long before she met a guy at her gym and got into it with him, outgrowing Joel in a matter of days. But for some reason, Joel’s warm, steady gaze stayed with you, like a whisper that hadn’t fully faded.

Years passed quietly, slipping through your fingers like sand until, suddenly, it was your twenty-sixth birthday. This time, the scene was different: you’d moved into your own place just two days earlier, and there was little thought of celebrating. Instead, the weekend found you alone, arranging your things and attempting to bring order to the chaos of a new home.

It was a crisp Saturday morning, and you stood in your front yard with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in hand, humming along to some eighties tune drifting in from the living room. The song—one of those upbeat ones that made even housework feel light—had lifted your spirits, and you moved rhythmically as you pushed plastic flowers into the dirt along the front path, sending little puffs of air to make the petals flutter.

You were lost in your task when you heard soft footsteps behind you, instinctively making you turn.

“Oh, hello,” you said, quickly masking the slight surprise the girl’s sudden appearance had given you.

She looked at you with wide, curious eyes, seemingly unfazed by her solo adventure.

“Hi. What’s your name? Do you live here?” she asked, her gaze shifting from your face to the flowers in your hands.

Glancing around for any sign of her parents, you noted her relaxed stance, like she’d been coming here all her life. Smiling, you nodded and gave her your name. “Yep, I just moved in.”

She looked unimpressed. “This house was empty for a while. I didn’t like the kid who lived here before. He was a pain in the ass—”

“Sarah!” came a sharp voice from behind, making you jump slightly. Heavy footsteps approached, and you squinted against the sun to see a figure striding toward you, his features obscured by the bright morning light.

When he stepped closer, his face came into focus, and your breath caught. You knew him.

“Sarah, you can’t just leave the house like that,” he said sternly, a furrow in his brow, his tone more parental than reproachful.

He turned to you, and the scowl softened as recognition dawned.

“Joel,” you murmured, the name slipping out before you even meant to say it aloud.

His expression shifted into a surprised smile, and that was all it took to break the ice between you. You explained that you’d just moved in and were still settling. Joel offered to help with anything you needed, including taking a look around the house to ensure everything was in order. He formally introduced you to Sarah, now eight years old, who had nearly scared him to death by sneaking out. She had his same lively spark in her eyes, a brightness that seemed familiar.

That evening, Sarah invited you to dinner with them, leaving Joel with little choice but to agree. And one dinner became many, as evenings blurred into weekends, and you found Joel’s presence in your life weaving into something inseparable from your routine. He started popping by to help with small projects, fixing kitchen cabinets or adjusting the wobbly front steps, visits stretching into movie marathons or lazy conversations with cold beer in hand. Days flowed into evenings of chatting over the meals you cooked to share with Sarah, and sometimes her uncle Tommy. Though Joel claimed he was no cook, his barbecues were legendary, and you couldn’t deny you looked forward to them most of all. And soon enough, he was there for everything, from driving you to doctor’s appointments to accompanying you on those grocery runs he pretended to hate. He even started showing up early on days he knew you’d need a ride. Over time, he became the best friend you’d ever had, a safe place, someone who felt like family. With everyone else scattered—Cassie overseas, old friends moved away—Joel became your rock.

It wasn’t something you dared to admit to yourself often, but you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And maybe that’s why you never allowed yourself to voice those little fleeting thoughts, the ones that flitted through your mind every now and then: how safe you felt whenever he threw his arm around your shoulders, or how good he looked reclining on his couch after a long day. Or how perfect it felt when the three of you—Sarah dozing on his lap, you leaning into his shoulder—sat together in the warm silence of a Sunday afternoon. There was an ache, too, a quiet pang whenever he mentioned another woman. Thankfully, that was rare; Joel once told you, with a shrug, that he “wasn’t really looking for that sort of thing.”

Sometimes, you watched him carefully as you talked about your own dates, hoping to catch a glimmer of jealousy in his gaze, some subtle cue that maybe he felt the same way. But there was never anything you wanted to see, and you always felt silly for looking. So, you buried it all. The risk of ruining things with Joel wasn’t worth the confession.

One afternoon, however, your emotions almost escaped your eyes when, while preparing Joel's birthday cake, Sarah dropped a piece of news that caught you off guard. She told you, with her usual nonchalance, that Joel had gone out the night before with someone new.

“Yeah, it’s like… the third time they’ve gone out,” Sarah mentioned while spreading cream on the sponge cake. “I don’t know her name or anything, just that he met her in line at the bank,” a laugh choked in her throat, amused at imagining her father flirting with some woman in a public space.

You forced a smile, laughing along like it was funny.

"And who stayed with you last night?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Not that Sarah was necessarily a baby; she was already twelve and extremely independent. But Joel never left her alone if he went out for the night, he knew how much she loved spending time with you watching movies and eating junk food. Then, when he arrived, you would pester him with gossipy questions and he would pretend to get angry and then answer every one of them.

“Uncle Tommy," she said, eyeing her work with satisfaction. “We had fun, but I kinda wished you’d come too. Hey, what do you think?” she fingered the cream neatly arranged with the angled knife.

“It's perfect,” you smiled at her, not waiting too long to ask the question you wanted so badly. “Why didn't you call me then?”

Sarah started sprinkling colorful sprinkles on top of the cream and looked at you for a second when she noticed the tone in your voice at the last word. She didn't seem to think much of it.

“You were busy, weren't you? Dad said you had something to do.”

Her answer hit you like a small weight to the chest. Joel had purposefully left you out. He’d even made an excuse for Sarah’s benefit. So, there had been three dates—three times he’d kept this woman a secret. A small knot formed in your stomach as you forced yourself to smile, still watching Sarah as she concentrated on the last of the sprinkles.

In the kitchen, you were running your hand through the steam from the beef stew on the stove—Joel’s favorite—when the door opened. His footsteps grew louder, approaching, and you nervously adjusted the dress you’d chosen, one you knew he liked, though he’d never said it. It was your favorite too, a cream-colored sundress with delicate shoulder ties.

Sarah sprang forward, covering his eyes. “Don’t look, the table’s not ready.”

You hurried to set the glasses in their places, your hands a little shaky as you moved, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush creeping up your cheeks.

“I don’t need to see it—I can smell it, and it smells incredible,” Joel grinned beneath Sarah’s tiny hands, which she’d plastered over his eyes, half to keep him from sneaking a glance, half just because she could.

“Too bad you don’t smell incredible,” Sarah retorted with a smirk, wrinkling her nose. "Go take a shower!"

You laughed, catching Joel’s raised brow at her.

“You’ve got five minutes,” you said, placing the lid on the simmering pot.

Joel snorted, brushing Sarah’s hands away from his face.

“That’s the smell of a hardworking man,” he replied, feigning offense as he turned for the stairs. “Y’all oughtta know.”

Later, the three of you sat around the table, and Joel took his first bite of the stew, eyes widening, a kind of bliss washing over his face. He tossed his head back and groaned.

“Sweet Glory,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, though part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something between irritation and flattery. “You say that every time I cook for you.”

He shook his head, smiling as he chewed, then spoke softly, his gaze slipping downward.

“I’m not exaggerating—I love everything you do.” A pause, and then a quick, awkward clarification. “I mean, everything you cook.”

The clarification was like a line drawn in the sand, a boundary etched by his voice alone.

You smiled weakly and inwardly thankful when Sarah spoke, telling you about something that had happened at her school that week and distracting you from the question that was spellbinding your tongue. You were dying to ask it, to look him in the eye and ask: who did you go out with last night? Why didn't you tell me? Is it someone I know? Is that it?... But you didn't, you stayed quiet and participated in the pleasant conversation, celebrating his birthday as he deserved. After all, no matter how much it angered you that he kept things from you, it was still his special day.

After dinner, Sarah forced Joel to sit in front of his cake, two lit number candles glowing in front of him. You turned out the lights, watching as the light from the flames reflected beautifully in your best friend's dark pupils.

Joel was wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his hair was still barely damp from the shower he'd taken before, and his sun-kissed tan face looked smooth, decorated by the beard and mustache you loved so much. Behind him, his shadow vibrated and spread across the wall with grandeur.

“Make a wish!” Sarah cheered, bouncing with excitement as she placed her small hands on his shoulders.

Joel smiled, closed his eyes, and blew out the candles. In the dimness, you leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.

“Happy birthday, old man,” you whispered, your hand resting gently on his neck.

He reached for your hand, pressing a warm, lingering kiss into your palm. “I’m not that old,” he muttered with a mock frown.

Sarah giggled, holding a knife to cut the cake and licking a dab of frosting from her thumb. “You’ll be forty in four years,” she teased, catching your amused expression.

Joel scoffed, scratching his stomach as he stood back up, turning to you with a smile that made you forget, just for a moment, all the questions you were holding back. There was only Joel, his rumbling laugh, Sarah’s delighted giggles. It felt like home.

Sarah gave him his gift first: a copy of Curtis and Viper 2 with the deleted scenes and a mystery box. When he opened it, a smile formed on his lips.

He pulled out a weathered wristwatch, broken for months, now polished and repaired.

“I took it in to be fixed. Do you like it?” Sarah asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

Joel nodded, eyes softening as he extended his wrist for her to put it on. “It’s perfect, baby.”

“Let's watch the movie later,” Sarah said. “You can't fall asleep.”

“Let's see which one of us falls asleep first,” you joked, and you were right. Joel had been working all afternoon and Sarah had been yawning for hours.

You turned and picked up the box resting beside your feet, handing it to him. When he opened it, Joel pulled out a black cloth garment and a paper envelope. He tugged at the cloth, revealing a thick, soft jacket. He read the label and a smile appeared on his lips.

“I saw it and thought of you,” you said, mimicking his gesture.

“How much did you pay for this?”

“Don't worry about it, it had to be yours,” you noted as you stood up and took it from his hand. “Here, stand up. Let's see how it fits you.”

“And what if it doesn't fit? Do we have to travel to Rome to exchange it?”

You laughed, then helped him slide it over his shoulders, a comfortable, familiar movement.

“I know you by heart, I couldn't be wrong.”

“So?” he asked, smiling coquettishly. Your stomach tingled and you decided to ignore it.

“Lookin’ good, Dad,” Sarah chimed in, her innocent smile lighting up the moment. “Bet someone special will love it, too.”

Joel smiled weakly, as if he was trying to tell her something with his eyes, and for a second you hated the thought of your gift being enjoyed by someone else. You imagined him getting ready to go out with her -whoever she was-, running his hand through his hair and perfuming his neck as he did from time to time whenever he went out with someone. You knew that perfume perfectly, you'd recognize it anywhere, though you were sure it wouldn't smell the same on anyone else. Joel added his own scent to it, and you loved it.

“Okay, now, open the envelope,” you urged, your voice unintentionally sharper than you meant.

Joel sat back down and opened the blue paper envelope. He read the note carefully and when he looked up, you and Sarah were looking at him excitedly.

“Sunshine, did you pay for this?” he asked you, a soft disbelief in his tone.

Inside were three plane tickets. Sarah had helped you pick the destination—somewhere none of you had been but would love.

When you nodded, he let out a soft sigh. “Let me cover part of it.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “It’s my birthday gift to you, Joel. It’s all settled. You need a vacation, and we certainly do too, don't we?”

“That's right,” Sarah confirmed, smiling complicitly.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re too good to me.”

But he smiled, tucking the tickets back into the envelope.

Time with Joel and Sarah was easy. When you were with them, hours slipped away, and the heaviness of everything else seemed to dissolve. You felt at home, and sometimes it left you wondering about Sarah’s mother, about how anyone could have left them. Didn’t she see how extraordinary they were? Didn’t she realize what she’d lost?

You thought about this as you relaxed on the couch beside Joel, Sarah curled up with her head on your shoulder. Her breathing had slowed, and you smiled, realizing she’d fallen asleep. Three glasses sat on the coffee table: the wine Joel had opened just before dinner—a bottle you’d brought back from your last trip to Italy—and Sarah’s lemon soda. Joel snorted softly, glancing at his daughter with a smirk, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Fallen soldier,” he whispered, smiling.

You laughed, brushing a hand over Sarah’s hair. “She’s tired. She was up all afternoon making your cake, you know? Tried the cream three times before she got it right.”

Joel sighed, an apologetic note in his voice. “I know, sorry I was late. I know she wanted me here sooner.”

Curtis and Viper 2 was halfway through on the TV, forgotten in the background. Joel straightened, signaling he’d take Sarah to bed, and you shifted to make room as he lifted her, carrying her toward the stairs. You watched him disappear down the hallway, and as the house fell into a quiet lull, that familiar disappointment stirred in your chest. Now, without Sarah’s chatter, you’d have to keep pretending that nothing was wrong.

You took a long sip of your wine, finishing off the glass just as Joel returned. He sat down heavily beside you, causing the cushions to sink as he let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes before giving you a grateful look.

“Thanks for today, I had a great time. Sarah was very happy,” he said quietly, a warm smile appearing on his lips.

“I'm glad, hun. Although the credit goes to her, I just made dinner.”

“Doesn’t matter. You helped her, and I’m grateful. I mean that. For today, and for… all these years.” His voice softened, almost reverent.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered, feeling your pulse pick up as he leaned closer, his brown eyes unreadable but soft. “You’re my family, both of you. Really, I’m the one who owes you thanks.”

He shook his head and leaned back, taking another sip of his wine.

“Not at all,” he replied, leaning back again.

You watched him for a moment, turning the weight of your question over in your mind. If you said something, he’d make an excuse. If you kept silent, the doubt would eat at you. You tried to fix your gaze on the TV, on anything other than his profile in the dim room. But the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“So, what did you do last night?”

He tensed beside you, so subtly that only you could’ve noticed. “What?”

You tried to keep your tone even, hoping you didn’t sound like you’d spent all day thinking about it. “I just… didn’t see your truck out there, thought maybe you were gone or something.” It was a lie; you had fallen asleep on your couch last night, you hadn't even noticed Joel was gone.

Joel seemed to measure his words carefully. “Oh. Yeah… I just went out for a beer with Tommy,” he answered, his tone a little too casual.

Heat crept up your face, disbelief taking root. He really was holding out on you for some reason, wasn't he? The man was lying to you, and not very cleverly. Tommy had been with Sarah, what if you had seen him, hadn't he thought of that? Apparently not.

It took a moment before you could bring yourself to say anything, watching as he glanced at you with an uneasy smile, waiting for you to believe him.

“Joel,” you murmured, not quite able to keep the accusation out of your voice. “You’re lying to me.”

He gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, but you didn’t let him off so easily. Before he could say anything, you spoke again.

“Tommy was with Sarah last night, here,” you pointed out, your voice firmer this time. His silence told you everything, his face drawn and uncertain as he realized you’d caught him.

After a long pause, he looked down, his voice unusually flat. “Alright, yeah. I know.”

The admission was so casual it took you by surprise, but you shook your head, feeling the ache of frustration and betrayal creep in.

“Why would you lie to me?” you pressed. “We’re friends. Why wouldn’t you tell me you’re seeing someone?”

Joel sighed, avoiding your gaze, his eyes instead locked somewhere in the distance. “It’s… it’s nothing serious,” he mumbled. “Just getting to know her. Don't make such a fuss out of it.”

“What? what you're saying doesn't make sense. You’ve kept it hidden, avoided every chance to be honest about it. Why?” you asked, trying not to let the hurt seep into your voice.

“It’s not like that,” he insisted, but his voice sounded unsure.

“So if I call Tommy right now, he’ll tell me the truth? Or did you ask him to keep this from me too?”

Finally, he met your gaze, his eyes scanning your face, reading the frustration and hurt you’d tried to keep buried. You could see it in his eyes, that familiar tug of defiance, a flash of something deeper than guilt or secrecy.

“What if I did?” His voice was almost philosophical, his gaze intense and challenging. “This is my private life. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, not even you. Do I?”

You drew in a sharp breath. His words struck like a slap, but you steadied yourself. “You’re right, Joel. You don’t owe me explanations. But you don’t have to lie to me, either.” You looked down, feeling your voice start to waver. “You’ve never hidden your relationships from me before.”

He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face and slumping back against the couch.

After a few seconds, he finally looked at you, a look of exasperation crossing his face.

“Because of this.” He gestured between you, his tone gentle but firm. “This reaction, right here, is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

What Joel was saying didn’t make sense. Your frustration wasn’t over him seeing someone else; it was something else entirely, something more fundamental.

“Oh, just stop,” you snapped, voice sharp. “I’m not mad because you’re dating someone, Joel. I’m mad that you lied to me. They’re two completely different things.”

He took a breath, settling back on the couch, and turned to face you, a guarded expression crossing his face. “No, it’s always the same thing. Remember the last time I was seeing someone?”

And you did, briefly. A year ago, one of his friends had introduced him to his cousin—a woman who had just moved to town. She was polite enough, but her smiles had a brittle quality to them, and when she met Sarah, her warmth never extended beyond a single, dismissive greeting. The indifference was obvious, at least to you, and maybe you’d let that show a little too openly. Joel had caught on quickly, and after that, things with her fizzled out.

“That was different,” you argued, exasperated. “She wasn’t nice, Joel. She had zero interest in Sarah.”

He gave a bitter, half-smile. “Maybe, but it wasn’t your job to manage that. I can handle my own relationships. But you always—” he paused, thumping his chest with a finger, “you always step in. Always get defensive.”

“That’s not true!” Your voice rose as anger crept in, heating your face. “You’re just making excuses. Date whoever you want, Joel, I don’t care. But don’t lie to me, don’t insult me with these flimsy excuses. Or if you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.”

He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening, something fierce sparking in his eyes. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his voice low and measured, the words hanging between you like a dare.

“Sure about what?” Your brow creased in confusion, the pulse in your chest picking up, a flurry of anger and… something else you couldn’t place, mingling with the haze of the wine.

His eyes narrowed, holding yours, unflinching. “That you don’t care. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Because I know you, i know you to well to know you’re just jealous.”

Jealous. He thought you were jealous.

He had missed the point completely. Your feelings for him were complex, that much was true. But you had learned, or thought you had learned, to carry them quietly. Your friendship with him had come to feel like a sturdy house you could live inside without having to ask too much of it. Having him in your life was enough.

But now, you felt that house shift, cracks spreading through the walls. His inability to trust you hurt more deeply than you’d expected. The openness you’d once trusted was fracturing. You felt the sting of tears prick at your eyes, the words he’d thrown out so casually cutting to the quick.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you muttered, standing abruptly, storming to the door and slamming it shut behind you. You barely heard him call your name as you left, fury driving you down the front steps, the cool night air biting at your cheeks.

Honestly, he could go fuck himself.

Just as your hand reached your front door, his footsteps closed in behind you, his strides fast enough to catch up. You tried to close the door before he could reach you, but his hand caught it just in time, his voice heavy with irritation.

“Just go away, Joel,” you said, barely glancing at him. “I don’t want to see you again.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” His voice was calm, almost pleading.

You stepped back, reluctantly letting him into the foyer. He’d have come in anyway.

“I mean it, God. Go home,” you insisted, your voice wavering, betraying the anger mixed with something else.

He shook his head, taking a few steps closer, his jaw tight. “Can we just talk?”

“Talk?” you repeated incredulously. “Talk about what? About how wrong you are?”

He didn’t flinch, but his eyes darkened. “Don’t act like what I said was crazy,” he said, voice steady but a little sharper now.

You scoffed, throwing your hands up. “Oh, so now I’m jealous, is that it? Then, by your logic, you must’ve been jealous too, right? Like last month, when Travis asked me out. Because if that’s the case, then we’re having the same conversation, aren’t we?”

Joel clicked his tongue, tilting his head with an exaggerated sigh. “No, Travis is just a jerk. And I don’t like him, plain and simple.”

Travis Dunn, your neighbor, had moved in a few months after you did. Handsome, tall, and friendly, everyone on the street adored him—everyone except Joel. He couldn’t seem to stand him, though Travis was always polite to him.

Last month, when Travis had asked you out, Joel had practically laughed in your face when you told him about it, muttering something dismissive as if the very idea was absurd. You’d told Travis you were busy, though deep down you knew the real reason you hadn’t accepted was because of Joel’s disapproval.

You shook your head, exasperated. “Travis isn’t a jerk, Joel, you just don’t like him. He’s nice, honestly, much nicer than some people, if we’re being honest here. Everyone loves him; you’re the only one who has a problem with him.”

“Then everyone’s as much of an idiot as he is, sunshine.”

“Oh, really? Or maybe… you’re jealous of him?” Your tone was teasing, but you felt the shift as soon as you said it.

Joel’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips, shaking his head slowly, twice.

“Don’t turn this on me,” he said. “This isn’t about Travis or me.”

“No?” you shot back, voice edged with challenge. “So if I go tomorrow and say yes to him, that wouldn’t bother you at all, right?”

He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark with something you’d never seen in him before. The air seemed to thicken, his presence so intense it felt as though it wrapped around you. He leaned in, his face close enough that his words brushed your skin.

“You can do whatever you want, baby. It’s your fucking life.”

“And you can do whatever you want too, Joel. That’s the fucking point!” you nearly shouted, hands pushing against his shoulders, shoving him away. “I don’t care what you do! It’s already clear you don’t get it, you don’t get anything, ANYTHING!”

Joel staggered back for a split second, but it wasn’t long before he closed the distance again, though he didn’t get as close this time.

His voice was lower, a thread of something hard in his tone. “If you’re so insulted by the idea of being jealous, maybe that’s something for you to think about. Ever thought of doing a little introspection?”

“Are you drunk, Joel?” you asked, eyes narrowed, softening your voice a fraction. The argument was exhausting you, and the anger left you feeling hollow.

He laughed, an odd, choked sound. “Oh, c'mon, you know one bottle of wine ain't enough to get me drunk.”

“Yeah, but you’re tired, and you’re not exactly young, Joel,” you said, brushing past him, his gaze glued to you the entire time. “Alcohol hits you differently now. Just go home, leave me alone.”

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, and maybe then you can run across the street and fuck Travis Dunn, if you want it so badly,” he shot back, impatience tinging his voice as he turned toward the still-open door.

The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, the anger washing over you in a wave. Before you could think twice, you rushed up to him, gripping his arm tightly to force him to turn and look at you.

“What the hell did you just say, Joel?” you hissed, grabbing his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric as you backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall by the door. “Go on, say it again!”

Your breaths came fast, chest rising and falling as the rush of anger pushed tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe he’d actually spoken to you like that, cutting right through to something raw and vulnerable. He’d never spoken to you like that before. Maybe he was a little drunk, or maybe he was losing his mind.

But there was no softness in his gaze, no hint of the Joel you knew. His stare was sharp, almost wild with something simmering underneath, something you didn’t understand. To you, this whole argument made no sense, at least not his reaction.

Joel’s grip on your wrist was firm, almost grounding, as he pulled you closer, pressing your palm against his chest. “I can’t stand that asshole, but go ahead and fuck him if you want,” he spat, voice laced with frustration. “Go fuck the whole neighborhood while you’re at it. I really don’t care anymore.”

His words were harsh, designed to cut, but they only drew a laugh from you—sharp and derisive. A tear slipped down your cheek, uninvited.

“What, did you ever care?” you asked, your voice trembling on the last syllable, thick with emotion.

But Joel didn’t respond, and the silence ignited a fire in you, something that swirled beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

“Do you know why we’re friends, Joel?” Your pulse quickened, each beat like a drum in your ears. “Because it just works between us. There are no ulterior motives. You know why? Because I don’t like you like that. You’re not even my type, and you never will be. And no, I’m not jealous that you’re dating some woman you’ll probably dump in less than a month, so get the fuck over it and leave me the fuck alone!”

You watched as his gaze flickered between your eyes, uncertainty warring with something darker. Suddenly, with an unexpected strength, Joel tightened his grip on your wrist and pushed you back hard against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping as your back hit the unforgiving surface.

His expression had transformed, those deep, dark eyes piercing you like arrows. His breath quickened, crashing against your face, and you could feel your lower lip tremble as he pressed even closer, pinning you against the wall.

“You don’t know how to lie,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing against your cheek.

The sensation was unbearable; his body pressed against yours, heat radiating off him and melting you inside. You could feel the edge of something primal, something that could tip either way. But suddenly, clarity surged through you. With a burst of strength, you pushed him away, breaking free from his grasp, forcing him to pull back just enough for you to gasp for air.

But the distance felt worse. In his eyes, you recognized something you’d never seen before—desire, raw and unfiltered. It clawed at you, igniting an inexplicable need. A sigh escaped your lips, and like a match struck in a dark room, it was enough to set off an explosion. In an instant, Joel lunged at you, and you found yourself wrapped around him, mouths colliding in a desperate kiss filled with moans and the urgency of your racing hearts.

With a loud thud, Joel kicked the front door shut, his hands moving feverishly down your body, fingers skimming your thighs, slipping beneath your dress. He caressed your skin before squeezing your ass hard, drawing a moan from your lips that echoed in the small space between you. You clung to him tighter, his hands fitting around you as if they were made for this very moment.

He pulled back for a breath, the sound wet and chaotic against the walls of your home, and then his lips descended down your neck, unraveling what little sanity you had left. A moan rumbled in his throat as your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently to tilt your head back, giving him better access to the tender spot just below your ear, your blood pulsing beneath his hungry mouth.

Joel seemed to want to devour you whole; his hands roamed erratically, trembling as his mouth kissed and bit your jaw, pressing your bodies together in a way that felt impossibly intimate. When you lifted your right leg and wrapped it around his side, he was quick to respond, hands securing your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto his hips, burying his face against your chest.

Another moan escaped you, and he pulled you down just enough to find your lips again. “Joel,” you whispered, breathless as you parted from him, pressing your forehead against his, eyes searching his.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he said, his voice low, almost broken, each word laced with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you replied in a small, desperate cry, feeling the heat radiating from him, the thin fabric of your underwear igniting a fire deep within you.

You were dying of thirst, and he had just asked you if you would refuse a sip of water. Was he mad? You wanted to drink it all.

No sooner had you answered than Joel pulled you off the wall, striding toward the stairs with a confident grace. You lowered your legs cautiously, meeting his lips again in a frantic, wet kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with urgency.

You walked to your room with the agility of one who knows where to step, and once inside, you grabbed the shirt you had angrily grabbed earlier and lifted it up his body in a desperate attempt to rip it off. Joel raised his arms, letting the fabric pass over both of you and then fall to the floor, and as quickly as your hands returned to his chest, he kissed your neck again, desperate, pressing his fingers into the tender flesh of your waist, seeking a physically impossible closeness.

His hands found your thighs once more, fingers gripping and kneading with a measured intensity that sent electric shivers through you. As he moved lower, his fingertips brushed the thin fabric of your underwear, inching closer to where you ached for him, squeezing you tighter as if to draw you in.

In a single, decisive motion, he grasped the hem of your dress and pulled it upward, the fabric sliding along your skin as he lifted it away, tossing it aside with a casual disregard that only heightened the tension in the air. He took a step back, his gaze roaming over you, from the soft curve of your face down to the tips of your toes, a look of hunger that felt almost consuming.

You weren't wearing a bra (your dress didn't require it) and your breasts fell beautifully in front of him, hard nipples and soft skin. Your chest flushed with warmth, a rosy hue creeping into your cheeks as you swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated when he stepped closer.

“I’ve always loved that dress,” he said, his voice trembling with an emotion that was both reverent and raw.

“I know,” you replied, a smile curling at the corners of your lips, the moment igniting an intimacy that made your heart race.

His eyes swept down your body again, glittering with an unmistakable lust, and when he closed the distance, standing right before you, your breath caught in your throat.

His hands slid around your waist, firm yet tender, pulling you into him with a deftness that sent a thrill coursing through you. In one seamless motion, he lifted you off the ground, your feet barely grazing the floor as you instinctively stood on your tiptoes, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

Joel’s eyes darkened with a hunger that left you breathless, and he leaned in, his lips finding one of your breasts with a soft kiss that felt both electrifying and reverent. The warmth of his mouth sent a rush of heat through your body, and before you could gather your thoughts, he nipped your nipple gently, a teasing bite that sent chills racing across your skin.

His teeth grazed you just enough to elicit a gasp, a shuddering reaction that echoed in the space between you. But he didn’t linger on the sharpness of that moment; he quickly replaced the sensation with the soothing warmth of his lips, enveloping you entirely.

He sank to one knee, lowering himself until his lips brushed your stomach, the warm sensation sending ripples of desire coursing through you. His face lingered dangerously close to where you needed him most.

Joel placed his hands on your hips, fingers gripping the elastic of your underwear, his gaze locking onto yours for a moment that stretched into eternity before he slowly began to lower it, the fabric sliding down your legs and pooling at your feet. You felt his breath hitch at the sight of your now bare center, the anticipation thickening the air between you as he inched closer, finally brushing his lips against your mons pubis.

“Precious,” he murmured, and the warmth of his breath washed over you like a caress, drawing a small, needy moan from your lips. His hands parted your legs slightly, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you firmly in place.

You cupped his face gently, as if afraid you might break him, and then, without warning, Joel licked his lips and plunged forward, his mouth connecting with you in a surprise that made your eyes flutter shut. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer as he devoured you, his tongue working its magic as he sucked and kissed you whole, with an urgency that left you breathless.

He growled into you, the sound reverberating through your body, and you felt weakness seep into your legs, trembling under the weight of his relentless attention. Joel was eating you like a hungry man, tasting you and soaking in your juices with a fervor that felt primal, kissing you as if his life depended on it.

“Fuck,” you gasped, feeling every muscle in your body tighten as a building pressure coiled inside you.

He pulled away for just a moment, his eyes darkened with lust, a playful smile creeping onto his lips before he returned to you, closing his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking with a skill that made your head spin.

“Ah—Joel, I’m going to—I’m going to—” You struggled to articulate the intensity of what was building within you, your words stumbling over the tide of pleasure washing over you.

His voice vibrated through you, trailing off into a soft, “Mhm.”

You pulled at his hair, tugging harder as a wrenching moan escaped your throat. The world around you faded as his movements grew more frantic, his tongue flicking at you with a desperate fervor. One of his hands released your thigh, and a low groan escaped his lips as his finger found your entrance, sliding inside with an ease that made you gasp.

“Fuck me, you’re so wet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of you—your cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with lust. A satisfied smile broke across his face, and you thought he had never looked so gorgeous.

From your point of view, he looked beautiful. His bright eyes worshipped you intently, his mouth and mustache glistened bathed in you, his hair tossed by your hands mingled in all directions. Joel Miller had never looked so good.

Another finger joined the first, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he curled them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for air. You gripped his hair again, pulling him closer, and he let out a throaty laugh, clearly reveling in the sight of you completely undone.

You felt his mouth on you again, the warmth of his lips kissing and sucking with an insatiable hunger that left you breathless. The sound of it was utterly obscene, echoing around the room like a carnal symphony, and it drove you to the brink of madness, your mind spinning in a dizzying haze of pleasure.

His movements grew more intense, a rhythm building that sent waves of ecstasy rippling through your body. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your hips moving in desperate undulations, surrendering to the climax that Joel savored with unrelenting focus. Your fingers clenched around him, digging in perhaps a bit too hard, but he welcomed it, desperate to drink in every last drop of what you were offering, to savor you whole.

With a low grunt, he squeezed your hips before pulling away, the wet sound of his departure from you hanging heavy in the air. You barely registered his rise from the floor, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure, your eyes still closed as the vibrations coursed through you. It wasn’t until his hands gripped your waist that you finally blinked awake, lifting your eyelids to find him gazing down at you, his face mere inches from yours.

He leaned in, capturing your mouth again, a kiss that was both desperate and tender, igniting a fire deep within you. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. As the intensity built, you let your fingers drift down his chest, trailing lightly until they found the leather of his belt, the sensation sending shivers through you as you tugged him closer.

Joel vibrated against you, a low growl escaping as he nipped at your lower lip while you fumbled with his steel buckle, the sound of it being released becoming your new favorite melody. You unzipped his pants, your heart racing as you slipped your hand inside, finally touching him for the first time.

Your pulse quickened as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat radiating from his velvet soft skin; big, hot and throbbing in your palm. A rush of desire flooded you, and you pulled away from his lips, dropping to your knees before him, your eyes wide as you took in his form.

There he stood, beautiful and swollen with need, and your mouth watered at the sight. You cupped him gently, drawing him closer to your lips, placing a soft kiss on the tip. Joel closed his eyes at the sensation, surrendering to the moment completely, and you traced your tongue over him, tasting the salty sweetness of his pre cum that made your insides tighten with longing.

With a hint of effort, you attempted to take him fully into your mouth, but he was too large, stretching you in ways you hadn’t expected. Joel lowered his gaze to you, his fingers caressing your jaw as you struggled to adjust.

“Slow, baby,” he urged, his voice silky yet strained, and it sent another rush of need through you. "I know you can do it."

You matched your hand to your mouth, stroking him where you couldn’t quite reach, while your other hand gently caressed his balls, moving in a synchronized rhythm. Joel tensed beneath your touch, his fingers shifting from your face to tangle in your hair, guiding you as he reveled in the pleasure you were giving him.

The sounds in the room became a symphony of pleasure, every moan and gasp echoing off the walls, and you watched as Joel's pleasure climbed. The image was enough to drive him over the edge; your pink, swollen lips covered him and his cock glistened with your saliva, dripping from your chin with every move you made. Your teary eyes looked up at him desirously, and he could take no more; his gaze was filled with a primal hunger that threatened to unravel him. He finally withdrew from your mouth with great reluctance when he felt his stomach tighten, a low complaint escaping your throat in protest.

His breathing was heavy, and a flush colored his cheeks as he lifted you effortlessly, holding you at the waist, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. In one swift motion, he laid you back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moved closer; Joel kneeling and settling between your legs which you instinctively opened for him.

You needed him, you needed him to fill you whole. You had never needed anything as much as you needed him at that moment. And as if he was reading your thoughts - or maybe he needed you as much as you needed him - he leaned in, taking your mouth with his once more, his moans blending with yours as he lost himself in you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, the taste of him igniting a fire in your veins. You felt him positioning himself at your entrance, his heat pulsing against you, and an intense sigh shot through your chest as Joel entered you in one thrust, burning and stretching you around him.

“Oh God,” he groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His right hand traveled to your left leg, lifting it and resting it high on his shoulder, while without hesitation, his other hand mirrored the movement with your right leg, bringing you into a position that felt both intimate and vulnerable. You were completely folded under him.

A cry escaped your lips as Joel began to move on top of you, his face hovering just inches above yours, the heat between you palpable. No one had ever penetrated you so deeply; it felt as though he was everywhere, filling you completely, every inch of you alive with sensation.

Joel's right hand gently squeezed your neck, seeking your mouth for a kiss as his movements took on a more urgent pace. The rhythmic collision of his hips against your buttocks created a beautiful sound that echoed off the walls, each thrust punctuated by the soft, desperate gasps that slipped from his mouth. Your own cries mingled with his as your body tightened again, your hands moving frantically up and down his back, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving little marks that he would surely wear like badges of pleasure.

A broken sound escaped from Joel, raw and primal, as he sank his face into the crook of your neck once more, increasing his thrusts with a fervor that felt animalistic, as if the world outside had fallen away and this moment was all that mattered. He fucked you into the mattress with an intensity that left you breathless, as though he were trying to ground you both in this fleeting reality, where nothing else existed except for the two of you entwined together.

You melted around him, your juices mixing with his as you enveloped him completely, and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he lifted his head, your forehead resting against yours, his wide eyes locking into yours. You had never seen them so dark, so filled with intensity and strength.

And then it hit you: It was Joel, your Joel, the one who had been your best friend for four years, and here he was, fucking the life out of you like no one ever had before. What could possibly come after an experience like this?

“I thought you didn't like me,” he said, his voice choppy, strained with effort. A smirk played at the corners of his swollen lips. “Such a bad liar, baby, look at you.”

You growled in response, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him towards you with a mix of force and anger. Your lips found his in a kiss that was anything but patient, igniting a spark between you. You felt him tense above you, one of his hands quickly moving to your center, exerting immense pressure as he leaned his weight on his other arm, holding you captive beneath him.

His fingers found your clit, tracing gentle circles that made your back arch involuntarily, another wave of pleasure building inside you. Your mouth was still on his, consuming him completely, when your second orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. You felt your insides tighten around him, squeezing him with a ferocity that pulled him closer to his own climax.

Joel gasped into your mouth, and the intensity of it sent your vision spiraling into darkness for a brief moment, the sensation so strong it felt as if the world had collapsed around you. When your breathing finally steadied, you found his hot body pressed against yours, moving in tiny tremors, quickened breaths brushing against your jaw.

He stayed inside you for a few moments longer, savoring the closeness, your hands continuing to caress his back, each touch a silent promise. Then, slowly, he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling achingly empty, his cum trickling from your entrance.

He fell limply beside you, his body slick with sweat, and pulled you close to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His breaths, still heaving, crashed against your damp skin, wrapping you in warmth. Unable to muster the energy to move, you let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to a deep, exhausted sleep that you would not remember when you woke up...

No, you didn't remember any dream, Because when you opened your eyes the next morning, you stirred in place and your muscles ached pleasantly, reminding you of the night before. And as you stretched your arms across the bed, your fingers grazed the sheets, feeling an emptiness beside you.

When you looked to your sides, the realization hit you hard.

Joel was gone.

taglist: @orcasoul

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fic #tlou hbo #tlou joel #capuccinodoll #joel miller is your best friend #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal joel #dbf!joel

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sm-baby · 1 year ago

Note

I want to see all the carnival AU bios again, but finding Zooble's is too hard, even when using the search. I hope there's a more organized way to view them.

(Trying to come up with nicknames that said characters would give my characters.)

CARNIVAL AU MASTERPOST + BOUNDARIES

Augh... I never know how to organize stuff! But here is a mini master post of the TADC Info Cards (edited):

The Main Cast (Minus Zooble :C)

Zooble ( Plus Zooble!!! :3)

Shiny Cards ✨

Lesser AI

THE GLOINKS!!!

Level layout

OFFICIAL COMIC:

The Entire Comic has also been dubbed by @volticglitch !! If you're not a reader, You can watch their dubs instead!! Here is the dub

Your best friend!

Jesterly duties

The hallway

Crying

First clue

Special event!

Foul language - a silly

Excuse me?

Leave!

A word with Bubble

Let it Settle

CONCEPT ART:

Characters Relationship Chart ( Bonus, OC relationship Chart!)

The Tent

The Funhouse

Cutscene

Pomni expressions

Character design

Meet Pomni

ALT character skins (Bonus, Maid skins because of course I did)

Pomni expressions AGAIN!!! (and a bonus)

The Jester's Circus tent (and a bonus)

References

Shape language ramble

LOREEE:

Neck pieces

Neck pieces (prt 2)

Neck pieces (prt 3)

Silly Frilly

Toxic Positivity Duo

Quick Ragatha Doodle

The Rabbit

Non-sentient Pomni

Pity Laugh

First act of violence

First and only visit

DOODLE DUMPS:

First look

Meet Jax

Meet Ragatha

Meet Kinger

Meet Able

Zooble's room

Theatre shinanigans

Thanks for listening

Jax Doodles

Ragatha doodles (Feat. Kaufmo)

Caine doodles

Queenie?

Colored doodles

Eye popping

Jax Ko-fi request!

SILLIES!!:

The "Sillies!!" Section is moved HERE becuase the mastpost couldn't take any more links!

╔══ ❀•°❀BOUNDERIES/FAQ❀°•❀ ══╗

"Can I make OCs In Carnival?" - Yess!! Multiple people already have and they make me so happy! do whatever, as long as you're happy and having fun!! " Can I make NSFW?" - Yas and slay, just be sure to warn and spoiler it, etc. etc. be responsible when posting NSFW! " Can I make Fanfics?" - Yes and please show me!! that would be lovely!! " Can I dub/voice your stuff?" - Yes but, I have only one rule... show me pleaaasseeee pls pls pls 🥺🙏 " Can I ship the characters/self ships/ OC x Canon?" - Aughh.. this is gonna suck to explain cuz its a lot to ask.. You're allowed to ship any ship! My only boundary is that it doesn't include either Pomni or Caine being with others who are not eachother! For example: Ragatha x Jax ✅ Pomni x Jax❌ Kinger x Queenie✅ Kinger x Caine❌ As long as the ship does not include Pomni or Caine individually, I'm all aboard!! I respect Jax x Pomni shippers, as well as Kinger x caine shippers, I just don't like them myself and don't want to accidentally stumble upon them in the tag! I do apologize if that's a lot, it just makes me uncomfy! Bounderies can be very tight! :')

#The amazing digital circus #the amazing digital carnival #carnival au #pomni #caine #zooble #gangle #kinger #Ragatha #Jax #tadc #tadc fanart #the amazing digital circus fanart #queenie #kaufmo #able

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probablyasocialecologist · 11 months ago

Text

Modern library science has five key tenets that would also guide a future library economy. Developed by S. R. Ranganathan in his 1931 book, “Five Laws of Library Science,” these concepts are some of the most influential in today’s library economy. Let’s discuss these laws and how they would apply to the broader library economy. 1. Books are for use While preservation of certain original works is important, the purpose of a book is to be read. More broadly, a hammer’s purpose is to hammer, a tent to shelter, a children’s toy to be played with. Americans buy a lot of stuff, much of which spends more time idle in storage than in productive use. This law guides libraries to prioritize access, equality of service, and focus on the little things that prevent people from active use of the library’s collection. 2. Every person has their book This law guides libraries to serve a wide range of patrons and to develop a broad collection to serve a wide variety of needs and wants. The librarian should not be judgmental or prejudiced regarding what specific patrons choose to borrow. This extends to aesthetics of products, ergonomics, accessibility, topics, and the types of products themselves. 3. Every book has its reader This law states that everything has its place in the library, and guides libraries to keep pieces of the collection, even if only a very small demographic might choose to read them. This prevents a tyranny of the majority in access to resources. 4. Save the time of the reader This law guides libraries to focus on making resources easy to locate quickly and efficiently. This involves employing systems of categorization that save the time of patrons and library employees. 5. The library is a growing organism This law posits that libraries should always be growing in the quantity of items in the library and in the collection’s overall quality through gradual replacement and updating as materials are worn down. Growth today can also mean adoption of digital access tools.

#library #libraries #library socialism

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moonstruckme · 5 months ago

Note

okay sooo mae i have this idea for emt!marauders! you know how some people have mistaken appendicitis/ruptured appendix for bad period cramps (bc period education is so abysmal). im imagining a reader who thinks they’re having the worst period pain ever and the marauders are trying to help, but once reader describes their symptoms the boys are like ‘uhmmm no babes you literally need an organ removed rn’.

i hope you are having the best day <3 sending you all the good vibes!! <3

Sending good vibes back, thank you lovely <33

cw: stomach pains, mention of hospital/surgery

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 974 words

“Shh, I know, baby.”

“You don’t,” you moan bitterly, pushing your face harder into Sirius’ lap and clutching your heating pad to your stomach.

“I—yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry.” He continues to toy with your hair, fingernails scratching lightly at your scalp in an attempt to soothe you. On the other end of the couch by your feet, James watches you with a sad puppy look. Sirius’ hand brushes across your temple, and he makes a sympathetic whining sound. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re hot.”

“It hurts,” you whine in earnest.

“Do you want some brownies?” Remus peeks out of the kitchen. “I’m almost done with these, but you’re welcome to some batter if you can’t wait.”

You nibble your lip, looking at him apologetically. “I don’t think I feel well enough to eat anything.”

Remus gives you a compassionate look and disappears back into the kitchen. Another wave of sudden, sharp pain makes you suck in a breath, curling tighter in on yourself. Sirius coos.

“Fuck, what did I do to deserve this?” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain. “It’s never usually this bad.”

“Does it hurt in your back, too, angel?” James leans forward, rubbing tentatively at the base of your spine.

“No, not—not this time. It’s so weird.”

His eyebrows bunch. “Why don’t you at least have some of your tea? That usually helps, doesn’t it?”

You press your face into Sirius’ stomach. He palms the back of your head protectively, thumb rubbing the skin by your ear. “Honestly, thank you, but I really don’t think I can.

“You should, dove,” says Remus, coming in from the kitchen to crouch by your head. He takes your tea and presses it into your hands, brushing a kiss against your hairline when you take it. “Sit up and have a few sips before it gets cold.”

Reluctantly, you do as you’re told, allowing Sirius to help you into a seated position. He pulls you gently into his lap, making sure your heating pad stays situated, and you raise the cup to your lips. James rubs your ankle encouragingly while you drink.

“What’s wrong?” he asks at your pinched expression.

You mash your face into Sirius’ shoulder, ashamed. You feel horribly dramatic. You must have the lowest pain threshold in the whole world. “I can’t decide whether to go to the toilet. I feel like I could be sick, but moving makes it hurt worse.”

Remus takes your cup from you, setting it back on the table. He’s frowning. “Moving makes it worse?”

You nod miserably.

He touches his knuckles to your forehead, brows stitching together. “How long have you been feeling nauseous?”

You make a low, piteous sound. It feels impossible to think clearly with your stomach radiating hurt. “I dunno. I think it’s because of the pain.”

“Was it the same time that the cramps started?”

“I think so.”

“Alright, thanks, sweetheart.” He kisses the space between your brows. “Do you mind if we check on something really quickly?”

You feel your eyebrows furrow. You’re about to ask what he means when James takes your heating pad, pulling it off of your middle.

“Just for a second,” he promises at your distressed expression. “I’m gonna feel your stomach, okay?”

You nod, wanting whatever this is over with so you can get your heating pad back, but when James’ fingers push gently into your lower abdomen, the pain triples. You cry out.

“It’s okay,” Sirius coos, holding you tighter to his chest while James backs up to allow you to fold your knees in again. “It’s okay, baby, he’s done.”

“Jamie,” Remus asks softly, “would you get us a bag ready, please?”

You blow air out through your mouth, trying to calm yourself as the pain fades back to the way it was. Sirius pets the back of your head, his other arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders. “A bag for what?” you ask weakly.

Remus looks at you, his face conveying both apology and tenderness. “We’re going to go to the hospital,” he says slowly.

“Wha—why?” You feel immediately frantic. Tears press at your eyes. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“He’s telling you why, baby, listen.” Sirius kisses your head.

“You’re not having period cramps,” Remus says patiently. “The good news is, we can fix it. The pain will go away, and you’ll be completely fine. But to do that, we need to go to the hospital so you can have your appendix taken out.”

As he explains, Sirius is pressing kiss after kiss into your hair, holding you close and rubbing your back when you get upset. You make your dissent known, but Remus is calm and understanding. He answers your questions honestly, tells you about the procedure, promises they’ll be with you for as long as you’re awake. Before long, James has returned with a backpack of supplies for an overnight stay and your pillow under his arm.

He sets them both down on the coffee table. Slips one arm behind your shoulders, another beneath the crooks of your knees.

“No sense in walking when you’re poorly, right angel? Sirius, you can carry her things, yeah?”

Sirius groans as he slings the backpack over his shoulder. “Fuck, did you pack all her books?”

“Just the essentials.” James kisses the bridge of your nose. “Wouldn’t want you getting bored in there. You doing alright?”

“I don’t see how it can get worse,” you manage. You know you must look awful, eyes red from withheld tears and face creased with pain. James’ brows hook sympathetically.

“At least you’ll feel better in a few hours, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus answers for you. He sets a palm on top of your head as he moves past you both to get the door. “We’ll have you all fixed up soon, dove.”

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papajohnnyspizza · 5 months ago

Text

Rainy day with Seungcheol

Summary: You and Seungcheol decide to spend a lazy morning together.

category: fluff, smut

au: Established relationship, Seungcheol x f!reader

wc: 1.1k

a/n: Bruh this was not supposed to take so long idk what took me so long. Also, not edited, will do later! <3

Warnings: smut

Originally you had planned on waking up early today, despite it being your day off, to go to a local farmer’s market nearby your house. But when you did wake up you could see nothing but harsh rain and grey skies outside. You hadn’t checked the weather the night before, but going on your phone now it was clear that if you went outside at all today you were going to get soaked.

You rolled back into your bed with a sigh, you were really looking forward to that market, actually having some money to spend on overpriced food and knick-knacks. But when Seungcheol snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him under the covers you felt a lot better.

“Good morning.” He whispered in your ear, voice still gravelly from sleep. Neither of you said anything, listening to the rain pour against the building, drowning out the rest of the world in your cosy enclave. You snuggled further in towards Seungcheol, his body acting as your personal heater, the faint smell of his cologne was making you drowsy. You had a few hours to kill now that you weren’t going anywhere, and couldn’t think of a better place to be right now than in this room. Seungcheol started rubbing small circles on the skin of your chest as you lay pressed against him, just about to drift off when you felt something hard begin to press against your leg.

You ignored it at first- figuring it was just morning wood- and tried going back to sleep. Then Seungcheol began lightly kissing along your hair, and the circles on your torso beginning to press harder. You looked up at him, and could see the mischief in his eyes.

“Not tired?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Seungcheol blushed slightly, having the decency to look at least a little guilty. Planting a firm kiss on your lips. “I was dreaming about you last night.”

Your heart immediately jumped at the confession, your panties growing damp. You pulled yourself into a sitting position on the bed and looked down at him. Eyes wide and hair curled slightly. “And, what were we doing?”

A sly smile spread across Seungcheol’s face, clearly enjoying the view of you in the grey morning light wearing nothing but your panties and his t-shirt. “We went to the market, but it was closed, you were so sad about missing it that I ate you out to cheer you up.”

Your face grew hot at his language, the pressing look in his eye. You straddled his lap, grinding softly against the growing tent in his pants.

“You wanna make your dreams come true?”

Seungcheol shook his head vigorously, large hands going straight to your ass and squeezing the soft flesh there. He looked up at you with a dopey smile. “Maybe later, I really need to be inside you right now.”

Your lips met halfway, tongues tangling in a lazy mix of saliva and teeth. Your hips pressed harder against his groin, rocking against him and building a steady rhythm. It was slightly uncoordinated, but you could both feel yourselves getting more desperate. Seungcheol alternating between kneading your ass and the upper back of your thighs, and holding onto your hips firmly to control your pace and move you exactly how he wanted. Meanwhile you had moved from his lips and were sucking red marks onto as much skin as you could reach. Your hands braced against his strong shoulders, every sound leaving his mouth had your head spinning.

It was a dark bruise you left at the junction between his neck and collarbone that finally broke Seungcheol’s resolve, pushing you slightly off him and quickly pulling off his sleeping shorts. He pushed your panties to the slide, taking a moment to run a finger up the centre of your swollen cunt. You watched in awe as you saw him put the finger in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks before pulling out with a wet pop.

“This is so much better than the dream.” He said, slamming your hips down on his.

All hints of gentleness immediately disappear, with Seungcheol in complete control of your lower bodies and holding onto you so tightly you’re sure he’ll leave bruises. You lean back and fist the bedsheets at your side for some stability. Feeling his cock moving against all the right places from this angle. You know how much Seungcheol loves fucking you in his clothes but you peel the shirt off so he can get a good look at your breasts as your body moves against his. With the mounting pressure in your stomach you know looking at him right now is dangerous but you can’t help yourself. When you look down you see Seungcheol’s eyebrows wrinkled together in concentration, biting his upper lip slightly, and as you expected eyes locked on the movement of your chest. You groan at the sight, one hand leaving the bedsheets to tweak your nipple and sending shockwaves through the rest of your body.

Seungcheol’s sounds start growing louder, time running out for how long he can last inside you. You use the hand that had been playing with your nipple to rub circles around your clit and immediately gasp at the feeling.

“Are you close?” You practically beg, falling forward on top of him, the arm you’ve been using for stability moves just above his shoulder. You’re so close to his face now you can feel him panting against your neck, head nodding in answer to your question. Your hand moves faster beneath you, the coil in your stomach tightening as Seungcheol slams you harder against him. Finally you break, and the relief floods your body as you ride out the end of your orgasm. Seungcheol pulls out just in time to see your rapturous face coming undone before fisting his shaft and cumming all over your stomach and the bottom of your breasts.

The rain is still pouring against the window as you clean yourselves up. Seungcheol’s put on a proper shirt and sweatpants and is whistling as he moves around your bedroom while you lounge in bed scrolling on your phone.

“You know we still might be able to go to that market tomorrow morning if we wake up early again.” You say, Seungcheol’s face scrunches slightly.

“I don’t want to wake up early on two of my days off.”

“Oh,” You tease. “You mean you’re not gonna have any more dreams about fucking me then?”

Seungcheol meets your eyes and laughs slightly.

“Oh honey, that’s what all my dreams are about.”

#seventeen smut #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #seventeen drabbles #svt smut #svt imagines #svt hard hours #svt hard thoughts #svt fanfic #svt scenarios #choi seungcheol x reader #seventeen scoups #scoups #seventeen imagine #choi seungcheol x you #seventeen hard hours #seungcheol hard hours

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seonghwaddict · 9 months ago

Text

23:46 — song mingi

in which your best friend is a little hard to wake up.

roommate!song mingi x fem!reader. genre. friends to lovers. fluff. timestamp. warnings. lots of kisses. wc. 1k. rating. pg-13.

lilo's notes. hiii here's a cute little mingi fic because i love him so much :3

listening to. you're mine, you!, chet baker

masterlist.

a quiet chuckle leaves your lips as you walk into the living room, finding your roommate fast asleep on the couch. mingi snored softly, sprawled out with his black playstation controler dangling from his hand for dear life.

you just wanted to grab a snack from the kitchen, but instead you made a detour to crouch beside the couch and take the controler from his hand as gently as you could. not that taking it from him forcefully would’ve made any difference; he could sleep through a category five hurricane. once you set the controller on the small coffee table, you reached for the glasses that squished against his nose.

he didn’t stir as you nudged his shoulder gently. at first you felt bad about having to wake him, but the distinct memories of him whining about his shoulder hurting after sleeping on the couch flashed through your mind.

“mingi…” you whispered softly, nudging him again, “mingi, wake up.”

after the third nudge he muttered something, though you could quite tell what. with your hand resting on his should as he pushed his face further into the pillow beneath his head, you sighed and moved to get up. but before you could register it, a hand wrapped around your write and pulled you down on the couch, legs tangling with yours and his other hand keeping you close by the small of your back.

you held your breath as he began moving you, practically trapping you beneath his large body as he drags himself halfway on top of you, one leg slotted between yours. his short, washed-out pink hair tickled your cheek as he lifted his head to look at you. you would’ve laughed at the tired expression of his face, all pouting lips and squinting eyes.

“i tried to wake you.” your voice came out a lot higher than you intended, not realising you almost felt flustered at your current position.

his eyes fluttered shut again and he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, making you tense for a moment before relaxing. his voice gravelly in his newly awake state, he spoke against the soft skin of your neck, “why”

“you always complain about your neck hurting when you sleep on the couch, i was trying to get you to move and sleep in your bed but you wouldn’t wake up.”

your answer has him humming understandingly, nuzzling his face further into your neck. your best friend was usually quite affectionate, however, this felt different from the more common cuddles during movie nights or occasional hand holding. you chalked it up to him not being fully awake, mind still hazy from his nap. at least until you felt the first of his kisses along your neck. they were so soft they were easy to miss, yet still the unmistakable brush of his lips that you sometimes found yourself wanting to feel against yours.

still, you didn’t protest, tentatively moving one of your hands up to brush through the hair at the nape of his neck. this only encouraged him, another hum vibrating against your skin. a soft sigh slipped passed your lips as his large hand moved to the small of your back to your waist, thumb carressing you through your flimsy white tanktop. with his body pressed against yours and his lips kissing anywhere he could reach comfortably, you relaxed, letting yourself lean your head back against the plush sofa.

“mingi,” you finally pulled yourself together to ask, “what are you doing?”

“just… just holding you,” he muttered against you. his kisses were tender and didn’t hold any sense of urgency, lazy presses against your pulse. “you feel nice, you smell nice, and you’re so warm. let me just hold you for a bit, please?”

it almost sounded like he was pleading when he asked you to let him do so and you found it hard to say no. in general, you found it hard to say no to anything he asked. so, you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper and making him lift his head to look down at you. moments turned into seconds which turned into minutes as your surroundings blurred and all you could think of was the tender look in his eyes as he leaned forward. he paused, waiting to see if you’d tell him to stop, but at the sight of the slightest of nods he couldn’t hold himself back from brushing his lips against yours. his hand on your waist tightened for a second as he pulled away, holding himself up with his other hand, forearm supporting him as his face hovered above yours.

he took in the sight of you beneath him, gaze flickering all over your face as he tried to memorise the sparkling look of your round eyes and your tiny puffs of air. there’s a smile tugging at his plush lips, barely noticeable but enough to make your cheeks warm even more. and when he spoke, his voice was no longer rough with sleep, but a gentle whisper only for you to hear.

“please tell me this isn’t a dream.”

you almost laughed at the endearing question but opted to smile instead, your hands cupping his cheeks. “no, this isn’t dream.”

“good,” he spoke through a sigh, sounding oh so content, “you’re just so pretty.”

a comfortable silence washed over you as he lowered himself to press another kiss against your lips. this time he let himself stay longer, he found the taste of your lips addicting, getting lost in the way they feel against his tongue as he swiped it along your bottom lip. when you parted for air, he rested his forehead against yous, breath mingling. the rest of the night was spent through lazy kisses and loving words that left you confused at the relationship you shared with him. but before you could ask about it, you had both fallen asleep, wrapped in each others arms on the couch you had tried so hard to get him off of.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

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papaya-twinks · 2 months ago

Note

Hear me out...

Lando x Franco x Oscar x reader :3

Like reader is one of their girlfriends and he loses a bet and has to share or smth 👀

Warnings: Smut, 18+, FOURSOME 😰, oral (m receiving, and f receiving) foreplay, a lot of penetration, betting, degradation, hair-pulling, choking, praise, some spanking?

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader x Franco Colapinto x Oscar Piastri

A/N - when you’re in a freak off and your opponent is @themultifanshipper (this is a joke)

When Franco came home and told you that he’d already made a bet with Lando and Oscar that he’d be able to get points on debut and in a Williams, you were pretty skeptical. But when he said the words after it? The words that went; ‘and if I don’t, um, they said they get to…to fuck you.

You were next to going mad.

Yes, Lando and Oscar were very good looking (and maybe you weren’t entirely against the idea), but your boyfriend had betted your dignity? Dear, dear Franco. And, to no one’s surprise, he didn’t manage to get points on debut, finishing just outside the points.

And so, you hurriedly turned off the TV, pushing the remote and your snacks into some random drawer, rushing up the stairs, and stripping your hoodie off. Like you’d ever sit there wearing sweats and a hoodie when Oscar and Lando came to fuck you.

You lit a few candles to set the mood, a bottle of wine in the side of your cabinet as you pulled an orange lingerie set on, making sure the buckles hugged your curves in the perfect places, before you pulled a black minidress on.

The papaya straps were visible on your bare shoulders, as you took a little box from the side, sliding the raspberry scent across your collarbone and behind your ears, spritzing yourself with the same scent, and making sure your hair looked presentable, untied and down.

You poured the glasses of wine on the side, watching your phone as you saw your boyfriend’s location slowly travel from the circuit to the hotel room. You had everything you needed - wine, towels for after, you were all set to go.

“Hey Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” Lando smiled to you as Oscar gave you his classic, polite cat smile from behind his teammate. Franco’s eyes traversed up and down your body - god, you never dressed up like that when it was normal sex with just him and you but whatever. Now wasn’t the time.

“Hi,” you smiled, stepping back so the boys could remove their shoes, Lando’s gaze dropping to your own heeled feet, before he sent Oscar a smirk. Franco wasn’t awfully happy about the fact that his girlfriend was about to get railed by his two on-track rivals, but he made the bet, he should’ve prepared for consequences.

“Just this way,” you said, leading the boys up the stairs, giving Oscar a perfect view of your ass as you did so. “How long have y’all been dating?” Lando asked, ignoring the fact that there was a pack of condoms on the side of the bed, waiting for him to slide onto his cock so he could-

“A while,” you said, as Franco shot you an unamused look. “A while? Two years,” he corrected you as you rolled your eyes, handing Lando and Oscar a glass of wine each. “This is the good stuff,” Oscar said, swirling it round in his glass before he took a sip of it.

“I’m sure your boyfriend told you about our little…agreement,” Oscar said, his voice somewhat teasing as you nodded, playing along and not letting your gaze fall to Lando or Oscar’s growing members. “He sure has,” you said, a small smile playing on your glossed lips as you sipped on your wine.

“What position do you want, then?” Lando asked, his attention on the young Argentine, who, too, had a tent forming between his legs. “What position gives us the best view?” Oscar asked, his words purposefully set to rile Franco up. Not that he cared, that was the point, anyways.

“What?” Franco said, playing dumb as Oscar shook his head in amusement. “You said you’ve been dating her two years,” Lando smirked in amusement, “surely you’ve tried some positions with her? Or, were you not enough to satisfy her?”.

Franco gritted his teeth, his expression set as he narrowed his eyes at the two papaya boys, all whilst you sat there, watching your boyfriend take the slack, busying yourself with removing your watch. “Doggy,” Franco said simply, as Lando gave him a small smirk.

“Thank you,” was all Oscar said, before he had you pulled onto your feet, head yanked up to look at him, his hand on your chin as Lando watched, his eyes dropping to your ass as he lifted your dress up slightly, tracing the curve of your ass. “Ready?” the Aussie said, his jaw slack as you nodded.

Lando didn’t need more confirmation as he pulled your dress off and over your head, thrusting it to the floor. “Keep her jewellery on,” Oscar said, his voice commanding and a lot different to the polite smile he’d given you earlier, “she’ll look pretty with it,”.

You watched as Lando admired the set, running a finger below the strap on your shoulder. “All dressed up for us, hm?” Lando asked, titling your chin so he could pull you into a messy kiss, Oscar’s head dipping to kiss and nip at your neck.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Lando said your name in an almost sing-song voice as Oscar slowly removed the panties of the lingerie, keeping the bra part on as Lando let go of you. “Did you not even believe in your little boyfriend?” he asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“That’s not a very nice thing to do, Y/N,” Oscar said, a mock sigh in his voice as Franco sat in a chair, watching as his girlfriend got handled by two other men. Lando moved you onto your hands and knees, admiring the view from the back, before he gave your ass a harsh smack, before squeezing the supple flesh.

“Count f’me,” Lando said, as Oscar moved to your front, standing in front of you as he held his member, slowly pumping himself, tracing your lips with his throbbing head. “One,” you choked out as Lando gave your ass another smack, your head falling closer into Oscar’s thighs.

“T-Two,” you gasped as Lando gave your thighs a squeeze, then a thwack, your tongue poking out to lick at Oscar’s base. “Three!” you squealed as Lando’s palm came down on your skin, before once again, massaging away at your flesh. Franco had his hand below his joggers, desperately pumping himself, begging for friction.

“You look pathetic,” Oscar mused as he slowly pushed himself into your mouth, his throbbing head hitting the back of your throat. “C’mon,” Lando gesture to Franco to join them, “need someone to make her ready to take my cock,” Lando smirked, even though you were already wet enough for him.

Franco didn’t need telling twice as he knelt behind you, his hands gripping at your thighs as he licked a long line up your core, a moan on your lips as it muffled into Oscar’s member, his hips moving slowly, guiding his cock in and out of you.

Lando watched as Franco slid his tongue over your clit, circling your bundle of nerves before fucking his tongue into you, your core becoming hotter with need. You cried out at the feeling, your nosies still muffled by Oscar moving his hips in and out of you, his head hitting the back of your throat again and again.

“Enough,” Lando said, dismissing your boyfriend to move back as he gave a defiant huff, moving to sit on his chair again as Lando sunk into you. Oscar finally let you off for breath as you moaned, your core welcoming Lando graciously, enveloping his member in your warm juices.

Your velvety walls clenched round him as he groaned, watching you from behind, your body coating in a thin sheen of sweat, cheeks flushed red, as Oscar plucked the hair tie from the side, tying my hair back and out of my face. “Look at her,” Oscar smirked, pushing me back onto his cock.

“Takes us so well, doesn’t she, Franco?” he directed the question to your boyfriend. Franco said nothing, watching as Lando rocked in and out of you, your eyes rolling back before they closed, lashes fluttering against your cheek.

“I can feel her,” Oscar smirked as he moved his hand to your throat to hold your head still, adding a bit of pressure as he rocked his hips in and out of your mouth, slowly moving, tantalising and torturous. “Do we take better care of you than Franco?” Lando asked, his voice mocking as he leaned down to press a kiss to your spine.

He knew fully well you couldn’t answer, your mouth preoccupied with Oscar’s cock. “How many times do you think we can make her cum??” Lando asked the question to your boyfriend once again, his dick sliding in and out of your moist folds, his breath turning to short pants as your cunt squeezed onto him.

Lando purposefully pulled out of you as you let out an indignant whine of protest, bucking your hips back to try and get some sort of friction. “Look at you,” Lando said, his voice half degrading and half praising as he finally let himself sink back into you, his cock once again welcomed inside of you.

“Begging for my fucking cock, and not even using your words,” Lando said, giving your ass a soft thwack as you moaned, moving further toward Oscar. “Gonna cum down your throat,” Oscar groaned, holding you closer into him, his thrusts speeding up against your throat before he pulled you closer, clamping you down on his cock.

The Aussie held you there for a few seconds, your nose buried into his stomach as his cum washed down your throat, warm and hot, before he let go, his cock flinging off of your lips and against his thighs as he panted, still squeezing at your neck. “Your turn,” Lando said, as Oscar stepped back.

Franco grumbled, having much rather have control of your pussy, his own girlfriend’s cunt, but said nothing, letting you do the work of bobbing your head up and down. You were more focused on Lando, however, as Oscar watched on the sides, a smirk on his face.

Lando moved one hand under your stomach, feeling himself in your belly, the other on your hip to hold you where he wanted you as he felt himself coming closer. “Gonna fill you up,” Lando said, his voice deep as he leaned down, his voice in your ear. You pulled back for a few seconds, gasping as you choked for air, the knot in your stomach unravelling.

Your orgasm flooded through, eyes going black as you saw stars, before you closed your eyes, head spinning and throbbing, your heart beating faster than you’d ever felt. Lando groaned as his own orgasm pushed through, his cum coating your thighs and core as he slid out, admiring his head on the edge of your pussy lips.

He gave your ass a final smack and a squeeze, your clit a last brush before he stepped back, letting Franco finish in his hand as you sat back. You were exhausted, beyond even, as Oscar pulled you to sit against the pillows behind you, and you took a sip of your wine. “That was…” you trailed off.

Enthralling. Amazing. Fucking hot? “Crazy,” Lando said. “It’s mot happening again,” Franco mumbled bitterly. Oh, you’d make sure it did. You didn’t need to worry about that. “So, uh, you betting on a win in Baku?” Lando asked Franco.

“Oh you’re taking the mick,” Franco grumbled.

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just-aake · 29 days ago

Text

A Feline Connection Part 5

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha grapples with your betrayal and her conflicted feelings about you.

Warnings: angst, violence, hurt/comfort, toxic relationship/emotional manipulation (not from Natasha)

Words: 5017

Natasha groans softly as a dull pain pulses behind her temples, forcing her to squeeze her eyes tighter. She shifts, trying to burrow deeper into her pillow, seeking comfort, but instead, her forehead meets the cold surface of stone.

The icy touch jolts her, and her eyes snap open.

Reality crashes back.

Sneaking in with you Deactivating Widow’s bomb implant Being betrayed

Her chest tightens, frustration bubbling under her skin as she presses her forehead harder into the ground, as if the pressure might somehow drown out the memories.

But what frustrates her most isn’t the sting of betrayal—it’s the fact that she can't bring herself to truly blame you.

Not completely.

She huffs, closing her eyes again, trying to calm the whirlpool of conflicting emotions.

Anger? Sure. Frustration? Definitely. But blame? It sticks in her throat, never fully forming.

After all, you'd warned her. Multiple times. It was almost cruel how you’d tried to warn her, yet she couldn’t bring herself to stay away.

Taking a steadying breath, Natasha forces herself to focus.

Her hands are tied behind her back—not tightly though, the knots already offering some slack. Her legs remain free, so she slowly shifts into a sitting position, bracing herself against the cold stone wall.

The room comes into sharper focus now: a dimly lit cell, the faint flicker of a light casting long, eerie shadows through the iron bars. The faint creaking of the light swinging lazily in the corridor beyond was the only sound besides her own breathing.

No signs of guards. Not yet, anyway.

Just as she starts working her hands free, a soft, familiar sound cuts through the silence—a tentative, quiet meow.

Natasha freezes, her sharp gaze scanning the dim room, her heart lurching at the sound. Seeing no signs of a presence, she calls out softly.

“Widow?”

Silence stretches on, making her doubt her senses. Maybe it was the residual effects of the tranquilizer.

But then, out of the shadows, a pair of yellow eyes blink open, locking with hers.

For a moment, they simply stare at each other in silence until eventually, Natasha feels a small, involuntary smile tug at the corners of her lips, an unexpected feeling of relief emerging at the sight of the cat.

Seeing that, Widow hesitates before moving closer, her body language almost guilty as she pads cautiously toward the bars.

When she reaches the edge of the barrier, Widow stops, meowing softly again, her eyes wide and pleading.

Natasha sighs at the sight, her frustration softening.

“I’m not mad at you.”

At her reassurance, Widow slips through the bars and scrambles onto Natasha’s lap, curling up against her with a low purr, her small body vibrating against Natasha’s chest.

Natasha chuckles lightly, finally freeing her hands and reaching up to gently scratch behind the cat’s ears.

“Your owner, though,” she mutters, her thoughts drifting back to you, “That’s another story.”

Widow tilts her head curiously in response, revealing something attached to her collar.

Natasha reaches for it, relieved when Widow doesn’t resist as much as usual, but the cat must still feel guilty about what happened.

She examines the small comms earpiece in her hand, easily guessing who it’s from.

With a resigned sigh, Natasha slips the earpiece into her ear, the slight hum of static filling the silence. She doesn’t have to wait long before your voice cuts through.

“How was your nap, Miss Black Widow?”

The casualness in your tone makes Natasha scoff in disbelief. She moves to stand, with Widow hopping off her lap, and heads toward the bars of the cell.

“That was unnecessary,” she replies flatly.

Her fingers trace the metal, looking for any weaknesses.

You hum thoughtfully, the low sound sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

Natasha clenches her jaw, hating how even now—after everything—you still manage to get under her skin. Her frustration manifests as a soft sigh, though it’s tinged with more than just anger.

Your voice returns, gentler this time, as though you heard something in her sigh that makes you soften.

“I really am sorry for using you again. Especially after your help with Widow.”

At your apology, Natasha presses her forehead against the cool bars, her thoughts swirling, confusion mixing with hurt and a quiet, burning need for answers.

There’s so much she wants to ask you—so much she deserves to know.

But there’s one question she needs the answer to more than the rest.

“Was everything...just part of some plan?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

The vulnerability in her question surprises her, but it hangs there, heavy. The real question remains unspoken, but it echoes loud and clear.

Was she?

The quiet buzz of static from the earpiece is the only response for a long moment. Natasha’s heart pounds, each second stretching out longer than the last.

Sensing the tension, Widow presses herself closer along Natasha’s legs, purring a small comfort in the otherwise heavy atmosphere.

Then, finally, your voice comes through, quieter, stripped of its earlier nonchalance.

“I never expected to find the Black Widow napping with my cat in the park.”

You pause, as if the memory brings a smile to your face, and Natasha feels the similar warmth curl in her chest.

A small, exasperated huff follows as you continue.

“I definitely didn’t expect her to steal my cat again.”

Despite herself, Natasha lets out a small laugh, shaking her head.

Your tone softens further at the sound.

“I never expected to work with you. To rely on you.”

A beat of silence, and then, with a sincerity that cut through every last barrier of hers, you whisper softly.

“No, Natasha, I never expected you.”

The words settle over her like a balm, soothing the ache she hadn’t realized she was carrying in her heart.

Natasha closes her eyes, leaning harder against the bars as a soft exhale escapes her lips.

Relief, in some strange, bittersweet form, washes over her.

But then your voice drops, and the rawness in it cuts deeper than anything else.

“…And you should’ve never met me.”

The sharp ache in Natasha’s chest tightens, your words sinking in like a blade.

She wasn’t supposed to hear that edge of regret, wasn’t supposed to feel the quiet admission that whatever this is between you—whatever fragile thing you share—was never meant to be.

And yet, it happened. Against every warning and every logical thought, it happened.

“Maybe not,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

The admission feels too honest, too exposed, but she can’t hold it back.

Her own words linger between you, and she’s not sure what they mean.

She’s caught between wishing she had stayed away and a terrible, exhilarating fear of how much she never wants to.

Widow’s small, warm body presses against Natasha’s leg, as if sensing her pain, her gentle purrs vibrating like a balm, soothing her frayed nerves.

Natasha bends slightly, her hand drifting absently to the cat, fingers brushing through soft fur, grounding her.

The cat’s presence is a reminder—a small, undeniable piece of you, of who you really are.

Someone who would risk herself to protect those she cared about.

Natasha takes a slow breath, her voice barely more than a murmur.

“Or maybe some people just need a second chance.”

The static hums in her ear, silence stretching on, and Natasha wonders if you heard her.

Finally, your voice returns, soft and laced with something between regret and acceptance.

“You don’t have much time before the guards return. You should take the chance to escape while you can.”

Natasha’s eyes search the cell, her gaze catching on the keyhole and a small piece of metal lying just outside the bars.

Stretching her arm as far as it’ll go, she reaches for it, her fingertips grazing the piece, but it’s just barely out of reach.

“What are you going to do?” she asks, her voice quiet but loaded with the question of whether you’ll follow her—or choose the path you seem already resigned to.

There’s a beat of silence before your reply comes, tinged with a finality that sinks into her like lead.

“Sorry, but I’ve got unfinished business to attend to.”

Closing her eyes briefly, Natasha sighs, both at your answer and her failed attempt, her hand falling as she gives up trying to reach the metal piece.

But then, Widow nudges her hand gently for her attention. She looks up as the cat drops the metal piece into her open palm, meowing softly.

Natasha’s lips curve into a faint smile, a moment of gratitude shared with the little creature. Her fingers scratch affectionately behind Widow’s ears before she begins to work the lock.

“You brought me here already. Let me help,” she says softly, hoping the offer might shift something and make you reconsider.

Silence fills the line again. The only sound is the faint clicks of the lock as she works.

Natasha’s heart pounds, wondering if the connection’s dropped or if maybe this is your way of closing yourself off completely.

But just as she begins to lose hope, a low, rueful chuckle filters through, carrying a warmth that, despite the tension, eases something within her.

“I do have one more favor to ask,” you say, and there’s a heaviness in your voice that Natasha knows all too well.

“Take care of her…”

The lock finally clicks, the door creaking open as Natasha hesitates, her eyes drifting down to the cat who’s gazing up at her, oblivious to the weight of the conversation unfolding around her.

Before she can respond, your voice cuts through again, softer this time, almost pleading.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“...please,” you murmur as you finish picking the lock of the door in front of you.

You don’t have the chance to hear Natasha’s response before a hand grabs the collar of your jacket, shoving you roughly against the doorframe.

The impact knocks the earpiece out of your ear, sending it clattering to the ground.

A low, taunting voice sends a chill through you.

“There you are.”

Your eyes widen slightly in surprise as they lock onto the woman before you.

A sleek, gold mask partially obscures her upper face, but it doesn’t hide the familiar, piercing gray eyes, staring back into yours.

Her grip tightens, holding you still as she leans in, her lips dangerously close to your neck. The cold metal of the mask brushes against your skin, and you flinch at the touch, while her warm breath contrasts sharply, making you tense.

“You know,” she murmurs, her voice almost a purr, “I would’ve opened this door for you if you’d just asked nicely.”

Suppressing a shiver, you push against her shoulder, trying to keep your voice calm and steady.

“Get off me, Whitney.”

The name feels bitter on your tongue—Whitney Frost, the powerful leader of one of the East Coast’s most notorious crime families.

Once an ally, maybe even more, but now…

A scoff escapes her, though she releases your collar, stepping back just enough to still keep her hold on you.

Her fingers trail along your collarbone, then slide up to your neck, stopping beneath your chin as she tilts your face to meet her gaze.

Her grip tightens, cutting off any response.

“You’ve really changed,” she observes with a hint of amusement. “The person I knew would never have said that to me.”

You meet her gaze defiantly, your lips pressed into a thin line, refusing to give her the satisfaction of an apology.

Her eyes narrow, her fingers digging in slightly as she studies you.

Then her expression shifts, realization dawning on her.

“Don’t tell me…” she scoff, her tone laced with disbelief, “you’re cocky because there’s an Avenger in the basement.”

With a mocking laugh, she lets go of your chin, stepping past you and into the room.

“Your favorite one, at that,” she adds without looking back, her tone dripping with bitter sarcasm.

The implication lingers, stinging as you let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering down to the earpiece on the floor, a final connection you know you can’t afford to keep.

With a resigned sigh, you crush it beneath your heel, the soft crack of the device echoing in the silence. Then, steeling yourself, you step into the room, closing the door behind you with a quiet finality.

The room is dim, shadows clinging to every corner, with just enough light from the window to make out the faint outline of your own hand in front of you.

Somewhere in the silence, you hear the quiet intake of breath, an untraceable whisper of movement that sets your pulse racing.

“I got you that cat,” her voice cuts through the quiet, echoing in the room.

It’s hard to tell where she’s standing with how the darkness hides her so well.

There’s a bitter edge to her words, her tone slipping between a calm accusation and a simmering frustration.

A slow, disapproving click of her tongue fills the silence.

“And then you go and name it after that woman. Now I hear you’re going on heists together.”

Your body tenses as her words echo around you, her voice drawing closer, each syllable laced with an unspoken threat.

“You really know how to make a girl jealous.”

Her words carry a disturbing, almost amused undertone before she lets out a thoughtful hum.

Then, a sharp snap echoes through the room, its cold finality hanging in the air.

“Maybe I should just get rid of her.”

“No,” you respond immediately, your voice steady but betraying the urgency beneath. “It’s not like that.”

Silence falls, thick and pressing, as if she’s weighing the truth of your words.

“Isn’t it?” she asks, and suddenly, she steps forward, her silhouette emerging from the darkness.

The gold mask is gone now, clearly revealing her piercing gray eyes that hold a glint of malice, though her face is still partially obscured by shadows and the loose waves of her jet-black hair.

She steps in close, her fingers finding the back of your neck in an all-too-familiar grip, pulling you toward her while pushing until your back hits the doorframe.

Your breath catches at the impact, and your body stiffens as she presses close, leaving no space between you. She moves in as if to kiss you but stops just a breath short.

“Does this feel familiar?” she murmurs in challenge, her tone low and taunting.

A chill slides down your spine at her touch, at the feeling of being trapped beneath her gaze.

The memory of Natasha’s touch flickers through your mind, her warmth and strength, the way her embrace had felt like a promise, something safe and fierce.

This touch, though familiar, feels cold—sharp.

Possessive.

“What do you want me to say?” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

Whitney tilts her head, studying you with narrowed eyes, her grip tightening.

“That you don’t take me for a fool,” she hisses, her voice low but venomous. “You really think I revealed my location to you just because you brought some Avenger to me?”

Your eyes narrow, and you meet her glare with one of your own.

“Don't act like she wasn’t a threat to you. She was close to uncovering your operations, and you know it.”

Whitney scoffs, a harsh, humorless sound, her gaze sharp with anger.

“We wouldn’t have had to worry about her if that stupid cat hadn’t led her to the warehouses in the first place.”

Her tone is accusatory, a simmering rage barely held in check.

“She’s not stupid,” you defend, your jaw tightening.

A rare note of defiance slips into your tone, and you can see her eyes flash with a dangerous warning.

Whitney’s expression hardens, her fingers digging in more forcefully.

“Neither am I,” she snaps, her tone cold and cutting.

A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, her eyes gleaming with a dark amusement as she continues, “I know you deactivated her implant.”

You swallow, trying to keep your expression neutral.

There’s no point denying it; she obviously saw what happened between you and Natasha. It makes sense she’d know why you were there in the first place.

Whitney lets out a disappointed click of her tongue, her head shaking slowly, her fingers tracing your cheek with a mocking tenderness.

“That implant was to keep you safe—so that I only have to use her instead,” she murmurs, her tone suddenly soft, almost soothing. “And yet, you chose to risk yourself to protect that cat.”

A low, humorless chuckle escapes her as she drops her forehead onto your shoulder, the sound echoing with bitter disbelief.

Her voice is softer now, but the sharp edge remains.

“Sometimes, I think you love that little vermin more than you love me.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Widow darts forward, slipping nimbly between the guard’s legs, her small form a quick blur that grabs his attention.

“Hey!” he shouts, stumbling after the tiny intruder.

In that split-second distraction, Natasha closes the distance. She seizes his arm, twisting her body with practiced precision, her legs locking around his neck like a vice.

The guard stumbles, instinctively reaching up, but it’s already too late.

With a powerful twist of her hips, Natasha throws her entire weight into the move, flipping him backward.

He crashes onto the floor with a resounding thud, his weapon skittering out of reach as the impact drives the air from his lungs. He lies there, unconscious, sprawled across the ground.

Without missing a beat, Natasha releases him, flipping herself upright in one seamless motion, barely breaking her rhythm.

Ahead of her, down the hall, Widow pauses, looking back with an expectant meow, as if urging her to keep up.

Natasha huffs lightly, slipping the guard’s weapon into her belt before taking off after the cat, who maneuvers effortlessly through the winding maze of hallways.

Her heart pounds, thoughts racing as she recalls her last contact with you. She’d heard the faint sound of your voice, a brief exchange with someone, but after that—silence.

Worry twists in her stomach. Who was that person? And where are you now?

The moment they’d escaped from the cell floor, Widow had darted off purposefully, her small figure leading Natasha in a determined path.

Natasha follows closely, trusting that Widow is guiding her toward you.

As she rounds a corner, Natasha spots the cat waiting beside a door, her gaze determined and expectant.

Seeing Natasha approach, Widow lifts a paw, pressing it against the frame.

Natasha steps forward, keeping her movements silent, and notices that the lock on the door has already been picked open. She grips the weapon at her side, bracing herself for whatever awaits.

With a steadying breath, she swings the door open, scanning the room with quick, assessing eyes.

But instead of finding you, she’s greeted by the low hum of electronics and the faint beeping of servers.

The room is small, its walls lined with rows of humming machines and blinking lights.

Lowering her weapon, Natasha frowns, glancing around in confusion, but Widow doesn’t seem fazed.

Instead, she strides forward confidently, weaving through the narrow rows of servers as if she knows exactly where she’s going.

Natasha follows, watching as the cat stops at one specific row and licks at a treat already waiting for her on the floor nearby.

Widow finishes it, then raises her gaze upward, her tail swishing with purpose.

Natasha looks up to see what’s caught the cat’s attention.

A USB device is plugged into one of the servers, its tiny green light flashing steadily.

Before Natasha can react, Widow springs upward in one fluid movement, scaling the side of the server with feline grace. She delicately grips the USB with her teeth, pulling it from its slot.

Without a misstep, she lets go and lands gracefully on the ground, the device clutched in her mouth.

The cat pads back to Natasha, her eyes gleaming triumphantly, as if proudly presenting her accomplishment.

Widow meows, muffled around the USB, her posture exuding confidence and pride.

But Natasha can’t take the time to appreciate the adorable sight as she urgently shakes her head.

“No, this isn’t a mission, Widow. You’re supposed to lead me to her.”

Widow tilts her head, her expression shifting to confusion as she processes Natasha’s words, clearly unsure about this new request.

Natasha sighs but doesn’t let her frustration show against the cat. Still, its weight presses on her as she scans the room.

There has to be a clue here, something that will lead her to you.

Her thoughts are cut short by the sound of many approaching footsteps.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Silence fills the room, thick and tense, as you search for a response.

Eventually, you can tell her patience has already thinned when her fingers mindlessly trace your collarbone, dangerously slow, before she turns her head from where it rests on your shoulder and hovers her mouth close to your neck.

“This is the part where you tell me that what we have is more important than some silly little pet.”

Her voice is a low murmur, coaxing, as if daring you to contradict her.

“Had,” you correct sharply, moving your body back, putting a breath of space between you and her touch.

She lets out a soft, incredulous laugh.

“You’re not still upset about that, are you?”

Your gaze hardens.

“What did you expect, Whitney? You tricked me! People got hurt because of what I did.”

“Oh, baby,” she coos, mocking sympathy in her tone, “You didn’t hurt them. That’s my job.”

The words sting, laced with callousness, and her smirk sharpens, as if reveling in the power she once held over you.

Her eyes glint with amusement.

“Besides, you work for me. I found you when you were nothing more than a pickpocket on the streets. I saw your potential—saw how wonderful you could be.”

Your jaw clenches.

“I never wanted to do anything like that.”

Her expression flickers, a hint of irritation breaking through her cool exterior.

“So you decide to abandon me,” she remarks, her voice hardening. “Ran off in the middle of the night and left me to finish your job?”

She takes a step back, letting the moonlight illuminate her silhouette through the window. Slowly, she moves her hair from where it covers part of her face, showing you the scar that runs from the side of her forehead through her eye.

“Because you left, I got hurt in that last heist instead. Is that what you prefer?”

You swallow hard, a sense of guilt growing in you as you see the scar across her once-flawless skin. You personally know how much she valued her beauty.

“No,” you whisper, “I didn’t want anyone getting hurt. Not even you.”

“And yet,” she continues, “when I finally wake up, you’re gone. Disappeared with a generous cut of my funds too, I might add.”

Your jaw tightens at the painful memory of making that tough decision to betray someone you once cared so much about.

“I just took back what I stole for you. Not everything.”

Whitney laughs, low and humorless. She steps closer and leans in until she rests her forehead against yours.

“Everything you steal is mine,” she clarifies, her voice dark and possessive. “You are mine. And no one takes what belongs to me.”

Her hand caresses your cheek as she continues.

“Not you—and especially not her.”

Her words hang in the air, cold and final, before an abrupt call sounds from a phone. Her eyes don't leave yours as she answers, putting it on speaker.

A subordinate’s voice filters through, tense and urgent.

“Black Widow has escaped! The cat’s with her, too. She’s already taken down several of our men. What’s the order, boss?”

A flicker of annoyance crosses Whitney’s face as she goes to respond, but you act quickly, clutching her collar and pulling her to you.

Before she can say a word, you press your lips to hers.

As if on instinct, she responds immediately, deepening the kiss, her fingers slipping into your hair, holding you with a fierce possessiveness as her lips move against yours, just as they have so many times before.

But before she can lose herself any further, you pull back and whisper, your voice breathless.

“Don’t…don’t hurt them.”

Whitney’s gaze sharpens, eyes narrowing as she searches your face, assessing your plea.

You wait with bated breath, hoping she’ll listen this time.

Eventually, her lips curve in a slow, calculating smile, and something flickers in her expression, intrigued.

Finally, she raises the phone to her mouth, her voice steady and cold.

“No lethal shots. Just keep them away.”

She tosses the phone away dismissively, her smirk deepening as she returns her attention solely to you.

“See? Just ask nicely, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha takes cover behind the corner, firing off the last few rounds from the weapon she’d picked up earlier. Each shot buys her a precious second, but then, the gun clicks empty.

She curses under her breath, tossing the useless weapon aside as the guards return fire, bullets ricocheting off the walls around her, forcing her back.

Natasha scans her surroundings as she searches for an escape. Just as she’s about to make a break for it, she feels a sharp tug at her leg.

Startled, she looks down to find Widow clawing at the fabric of her pants, her yellow eyes wide and urgent.

Once she had her attention, the cat releases her hold and pads over to a pile of empty boxes and debris stacked against the wall, pushing at the heap insistently.

Natasha hesitates, but then she sees what Widow’s after: a narrow chute hidden behind the clutter.

Acting fast, Natasha clears the debris aside, revealing the dark opening of the chute.

Without hesitation, Widow jumps through, disappearing into the shadows below.

Natasha spares only a split second to glance back at the approaching guards before following. She dives into the chute, her body dropping swiftly, darkness surrounding her as she slides down into the unknown.

As the chute opens to a faint glow, Natasha tenses, bracing herself. She rolls as she lands, dropping into a crouch just as the two guards stationed there turn to her in shock.

They barely have time to react before Natasha springs forward, her movements precise and lethal, taking them down in seconds.

A soft meow echoes from an adjacent hallway, pulling her attention. Widow waits for her near the entrance before continuing on her way.

Natasha falls into step, following the cat through a maze of narrow hallways and hidden passages.

But with every twist and turn, a mounting frustration gnaws at her, the growing realization that they’re being funneled further and further away from her goal—away from you.

After a final sprint through a nondescript door, Natasha suddenly finds herself outside.

The cool night air hits her skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating corridors inside. She spins around, instinctively reaching for the door, ready to plunge back in and continue her search.

But the door remains locked, the handle unmoving under her grip.

She yanks at it, a surge of anger flaring within her as she’s met with resistance.

With a frustrated growl, Natasha slams her fist into the door, feeling the dull ache in her knuckles. But even the sting in her hand is nothing compared to the frustration coiling inside her chest.

A soft, concerned meow sounds beside her. Natasha glances down to find Widow watching her, the cat’s small face tilted up, her eyes full of worry.

For a moment, Natasha’s expression softens as she meets Widow’s gaze, recalling her promise to you.

“It’s going to be okay, Widow,” she murmurs, though her voice feels hollow, more of a reassurance to herself than to the cat.

Widow blinks, then leans against Natasha’s leg, her small, warm body a quiet comfort amidst the chaos. Natasha strokes her fur, grounding herself, even if only a little, in the gentle purrs vibrating under her hand.

But the weight of the situation lingers heavily, her mind racing with the bitter knowledge that she’s been forced out, away from you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Your hand finds the edge of the desk behind you, steadying yourself as Whitney presses in closer. Your fingers slip along the surface, accidentally brushing against the hidden panel.

There’s a soft click, barely audible, and a small section of the desk slides open to reveal a concealed terminal.

But Whitney doesn’t notice, her focus entirely on you.

Her lips trail down your neck, each kiss lingering, leaving a heated trail that makes your pulse quicken despite yourself. She finds a particularly sensitive spot, her mouth lingering there, and a gasp escapes you involuntarily.

Out of the corner of your eye, the terminal screen flickers to life, displaying the active status of the device with your name highlighted under it.

The cold words remind you of the reality of your position.

You take a steadying breath, summoning the courage to make your request, hoping that your past together would be enough to change her mind.

“Take it out of me. The implant.”

Her mouth freezes against your skin.

For a moment, the only sound is your breath, quick and unsteady, mingling with her silence. Then she hums thoughtfully, her lips brushing against your skin in a deceptively gentle touch.

“Oh, I will…” Her words are soft, almost soothing, until her teeth sink harshly into your skin—a biting reprimand.

You wince, but she only holds you tighter, as if daring you to pull away.

“Once you’ve paid back every cent you stole. It’s only fair after what your little disappearing act did to me.”

Whitney lifts her gaze to meet yours, her eyes sharp and dangerous, an unmistakable warning glinting in their depths. She leans in closer, her lips brushing your ear, her voice a dark, possessive whisper that sends a chill down your spine.

“Until then,” she murmurs, pulling you firmly against her, “no more running away.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: thanks for reading! the back and forth style of the perspectives in this one was fun to do, different but still fun. Oh, and a new character too, any thoughts about her? There will be a small side story to give a snippet in the readers past coming soon before the next part releases, so look forward to that.

Side note: The next update for Everlasting Devotion is still in the process. I just wanted to reassure that I’m still working on that series. It’s just a new experience doing two series at once so I’m still trying to manage the time between the two, but we’ll see how this goes.

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

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