#thinking about him collecting things that make him laugh

[dior-luxury]

You Call Them A Different Name To Get Their Reaction

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] azul . chen'ya . cater . rollo . floyd

- [𝐩:𝐬] nothing really just guys being jelly

Note: This is a very random line-up Lol, I'm also working on requests right now! but enjoy guys!

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul prided himself on maintaining composure, on being calm and collected in any situation. But the moment your lips uttered another name—someone else’s name—his entire world seemed to freeze.

He had been in the middle of discussing business with you at the lounge when it happened. You were laughing about something when, instead of calling him Azul, another name slipped out.

The conversation came to a standstill. Azul’s fingers tightened slightly around the glass in his hand, but his expression remained carefully neutral. Too neutral.

"...I beg your pardon?" His voice was smooth, but there was a dangerous edge to it, like a blade concealed beneath silk.

You immediately realized your mistake and scrambled to correct yourself. "I—I didn’t mean to—"

Azul’s eyes darkened, and he let out a soft chuckle, adjusting his glasses as if regaining his composure. "Ah, I see. A slip of the tongue, is it?" His tone was polite, but you could tell he was troubled by it.

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers. "You wouldn’t happen to have someone else on your mind, would you?" His voice was light, teasing even, but the way he studied you—analyzing your every move—told you he was far from amused.

It would take reassurance, perhaps a bit of flattery, to mend his bruised pride. But one thing was certain—Azul would not forget this incident anytime soon.

Chen’ya

Chen’ya was used to teasing and playful banter, but he certainly hadn’t expected this.

You had been chatting absentmindedly when you called him by a completely different name. The moment the wrong name left your lips, the mischievous grin on his face widened.

"Oho~? What was that?" His ears perked up, and he leaned in, floating effortlessly beside you. "Did I just hear you call me someone else?"

You felt heat rush to your cheeks. "I didn’t mean to—!"

"But you did~," he sing-songed, lazily looping around you like a cat stalking its prey. "How scandalous! How cruel!" He dramatically clutched his chest as if he had been mortally wounded.

You groaned. "Chen’ya, please—"

"Ah-ah~! What if I just started calling you by another name, hm?" His grin widened even further, fangs peeking through. "Wouldn’t want that, would we?"

Despite his teasing, there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. He wasn’t angry, just… intrigued. Amused. Maybe even a little too entertained.

"You do know I’m the most charming one around, right?" he purred, poking your cheek. "No one else could compare, so I’ll forgive you—just this once~!"

Cater Diamond

Cater’s usual easygoing demeanor faltered the moment you called him the wrong name.

You were in the middle of scrolling through Magicam together when the slip happened. At first, you didn’t even realize what you’d done—until you noticed that Cater had completely frozen.

His smile was still there, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Heh… wait a sec." He turned to you, his head tilting slightly. "Did you just call me someone else’s name?"

Your stomach dropped. "Cater, I—"

"Yikes!" He let out an exaggerated laugh, but there was something unsettling about the way he kept smiling. "Like, what gives? I thought I was your fave~?"

You could tell he was trying to play it off, but beneath that carefree tone, there was something else—something deeper.

"Who were you thinking about, exactly?" His voice was light, but his fingers tapped restlessly against his phone.

If you reassured him, he’d eventually brush it off with a laugh, but later, you’d notice a flood of new selfies and posts with captions like "Cater Diamond, unforgettable as always~! #NoOneBetter #Right?"

You were definitely going to have to make it up to him.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo’s reaction was immediate.

The moment you called him the wrong name, his entire body tensed. His hands, which had been delicately adjusting the pages of a book, clenched into fists. His usually composed expression darkened as his lips pressed into a thin line.

"...I beg your pardon?" His voice was eerily quiet, and you could practically feel the shift in the air around him.

You gulped. "I didn’t mean to say that—"

"Who is it?" His gaze was sharp, piercing, demanding an answer.

The flames of the nearby lantern flickered violently, casting uneasy shadows across the room. Rollo exhaled slowly, as if reigning himself in. "I fail to see how such a mistake could occur," he said coldly. "Unless, of course… you were thinking of them in my presence."

The way he said it sent chills down your spine. He wasn’t throwing a tantrum or causing a scene—no, that wasn’t Rollo’s style. Instead, his displeasure seeped into the atmosphere, suffocating and inescapable.

"I do not tolerate being overlooked." His eyes met yours, unwavering. "Do not let it happen again."

You knew you had to be very careful with your next words.

Floyd Leech

Floyd’s reaction was nothing short of unpredictable.

One moment, he had been lounging beside you, playfully poking your side, and the next—his entire demeanor shifted the second another name left your lips.

His grin faded. His golden eyes gleamed dangerously as he tilted his head. "Huh?"

You felt your heart skip a beat.

"What did you just say?" His voice was deceptively light, but the way his fingers twitched against your arm sent a shiver down your spine.

"I—I didn’t mean to, it was an accident—"

"An accident~?" He let out a slow hum, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "Dunnooo~ I think my ears must be playing tricks on me. ‘Cause it sounded like you just called me the wrong name."

You quickly tried to backtrack, but Floyd was already squeezing you into a vice-like hug, burying his face into your shoulder.

"Maaaan, I dunno if I should be mad or just suuuuper sad~" he whined. "Should I bite ya? Or should I make ya say my name over and over till ya never forget it again?"

You yelped. "Floyd!"

At the sound of his name, he suddenly grinned, loosening his grip. "Hehe~ That’s better!"

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: messy messy messy. spit. teasing. dirty talk. dry humping. pussy obsession. mdni

felix is the biggest fucking pervert. no one ever suspects it. not when he blinks up at them with those soft, round eyes, voice dipped in honey and warmth. not when he giggles at dirty jokes like he doesn’t think about filth on a daily basis. not when he lets his lips part just slightly, breath catching, like he’s naïve to how many times you’ve caught him staring at your mouth. no, they don’t suspect a thing. and neither did you.

he let you think he was innocent.

let you think he was soft, shy, the kind of boyfriend who got flustered when things got too heated. he played along so well—letting his breath hitch when your hands wandered, blinking up at you like he didn’t know what to do next, letting you think you were leading.

it was all an act.

right now, he’s got you spread open beneath him, body trembling, slick pooling beneath you, thighs sticky from the mess he’s already made. his fingers are still in you, still knuckle-deep, pressing, curling, fucking into you slow just to watch the way your cunt clenches around him.

"so fucking wet," he murmurs, dragging his lips down your jaw, your throat, breathing in the scent of your sweat, your arousal. "all for me, huh?"

he pulls his fingers out, watching the way your hole twitches at the loss. his fingers glisten, coated in slick, strings of it clinging between them, dripping down to his wrist. he smirks, bringing them to his mouth, tongue darting out to lap at the mess.

"god, you taste so good," he groans, sucking his fingers clean, moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever had. then he leans down, presses his tongue flat against your cunt, and drags it up slow, gathering every drop of slick he can.

you sob at the feeling, thighs twitching, body strung too tight. he’s been teasing you for too long, making a mess of you, pushing you just to pull back before you can reach the edge.

"felix, please," you beg, voice wrecked, and fuck—he loves that. loves the desperation, the way you sound completely ruined before he’s even inside you.

he presses a kiss to your clit, soft, almost sweet. then he spits on it.

his breath stutters, coming out shaky, too affected by his own actions to play it cool anymore. his fingers drag through the mess, slow and indulgent, smearing it across your folds, watching with wide, glassy eyes as your hole clenches around nothing.

"god," he breathes, almost like he’s overwhelmed, his voice thick with something dark and desperate. "you’re so fucking wet."

he doesn’t even know what to do first. his fingers twitch against your skin, indecisive—touch, taste, fuck—he wants all of it at once, wants to drown in you, make himself sick on the scent of your arousal, coat himself in it until he can’t think of anything else.

his hips grind down before he can stop them, cock pressing into the mattress, dragging against the rough fabric of his jeans, and he lets out the prettiest little whine, high and breathy.

"shit, i—" he cuts himself off, panting, forehead dropping to your thigh for a moment as he collects himself. but his hips are still moving, rutting slow, lazy, chasing friction like he’s the one being tortured here.

and then he laughs, soft and breathless, nuzzling into your skin before pressing a wet kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"‘m making a mess," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement, hips rolling down again, grinding his cock into the bed like he can’t help it. his fingers dip into your entrance, just barely, and he groans, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. "but look at you. you’re so much worse, baby."

he finally pushes his fingers in, slow, knuckle-deep, groaning at the way your walls squeeze around him, sucking him in greedily. his head tilts back, lips parted, breath catching, and fuck—he just stays like that for a second, just feeling, just letting himself get lost in how tight you are, how hot, how wet.

he moves.

a slow, obscene drag, slick and messy, fingers fucking into you deep, deliberate, thumb rubbing lazy circles over your clit.

"you like this, don’t you?" his voice is low, teasing, his lips dragging over your stomach, nipping at the soft skin. "having me play with you like this, spreading you open, making a mess of you?"

he whines at the sound you make, high and needy, grinding his cock into the sheets again, his movements getting sloppier, less controlled.

"fuck, i can’t—i need—" he groans, slipping his fingers out, only to replace them with his tongue, dragging it through your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth.

he moans, loud, filthy, like he’s the one getting wrecked right now.

he pulls back with a gasp, lips slick with spit and your arousal, panting hard. his hands are shaking, his whole body trembling, and he lets out a breathless laugh, licking his lips, dazed.

"i’m gonna lose my fucking mind," he mutters, gripping his cock, rubbing it against your entrance, teasing, teasing, teasing. "you’re gonna let me fuck you, right? you’ll let me ruin you?"

his voice breaks at the end, a desperate little whimper, and before you can even answer, he’s pushing in—slow, deep, inch by inch, moaning the whole fucking time.

[watchmegetobsessed]

RAW, NEXT QUESTION

A/N: saw a vid of all these dirty tiktok comments and just knew i had to write something like this hehe

WORD COUNT: 1k

WARNING: just some dirty talk i guess?

SUMMARY: You decide to get Harry hot and bothered with some of the most unhinged sayings you learned from Tiktok.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry has always joked about how chronically online you are and quite frankly, you can’t argue with him. You definitely enjoy rotting on the couch after a long and tiring day and just scrolling through Tiktok. Your For You Page is usually pretty on the spot and perfectly curated for your taste and humor. It’s like a treat after being an adult for a whole day. 

Harry spends quite some time on different apps as well, but it’s just different for him, he doesn’t really engage with all the trends and micro trends that happen online, while you live for those. You absolutely love the memes, the poorly edited videos, the funny lines that just stick with you and you even catch yourself using them in real life as well. 

And Harry loves teasing you for that. He often jokes about you being a teenager at the ripe age of twenty-eight, to which you just usually roll your eyes. But one instance kind of turns the tables. 

One morning, after you’ve been out with your girlfriends the night before you’re stumbling out of the bedroom quite late, finding your boyfriend in the kitchen, already making you the breakfast you usually crave after drinking a bit too much. But this time he is standing by the stove in a pair of light grey sweatpants and your pink apron, nothing else. His hair is tousled, his tattoos are on display and he just looks incredibly delicious as he cooks for you. 

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he smiles at you when he sees you climb onto a stool by the kitchen island.

“Mmm,” is all you can get out as you can’t take your eyes off of you. He catches you eyeing him, a pleased grin stretching across his face as he flips a piece of bacon in the pan. 

“Like what you see?” he asks teasingly and before you could think of your answer, the words spill out of you.

“Raw, next question.”

Harry chokes on his breath, his ears go red instantly as he gives you a wide-eyed look. 

“Uh what?” he asks with a laugh and you notice him shifting from one leg to the other a bit nervously. 

“What, caught you by surprise?” you grin at him.

“Where did that come from?”

“It’s a Tiktok thing,” you shrug, but the gears are already turning in your head. 

If this comment got him so hot and bothered, you’d love to try out all the other unhinged sayings that circulate on the app. So you got to work.

In your notes app, you collect a rather long list of them that you’d like to drop on him at the right moment and then you wait.

And the moments luckily come. 

A few days later you have a particularly bad day at work and Harry knew, because you texted him all day. So he welcomes you home with a nice, hot bath, candles around the tub and a bottle of wine already waiting for you with two glasses. Standing at the door you look at him with adoring eyes and then you drop a bomb.

“I mean, I’m not a waitress, but I would take your tip.”

You see his pupils grow instantly. 

“Y/N,” he growls as you just smirk at him. A moment later his hands are already peeling your clothes off. You don’t even make it into the tub, because you take more than just his tip on the counter. 

The next time happens when he cooks dinner for you, the pasta he makes so well and is one of your favorites. Sitting at the table you watch him fill your plate with the delicious looking, creamy pasta and you just say with a sigh: “Mm, but why is he filling my plate and not me?”

The spaghetti spoon drops from his hand, back into the pot and he almost drops the plate as well. You can’t hold back your laugh as he puts it down and leans back in his seat, raking through his hair with pink cheeks and a cheeky smirk that also reflects his disbelief that you just said that. 

“Everything alright, baby?” you ask with an innocent look. He shakes his head with a chuckle and goes back to the pasta, but you already know you’ll be his dessert. 

The best one however happens publicly. One of your friends has a grill party when the weather is finally warm enough and you split for a bit, engaging in different circles. Harry looks incredibly good, wearing a colorful shirt with a few buttons undone, so he is flaunting quite a bit of his chest. He is nursing a beer, sunglasses hiding his pretty eyes and he recently shaved, but left his mustache, so he looks… extraordinarily good in your opinion. 

But others notice it too, the girls you’re chatting with mention his new facial hair style and they share your view of it looking amazing. As if Harry could sense that you’re talking about him, he turns to you and then starts walking towards your little circle. 

“Woah, get a load of this guy!” one of the girls jokingly calls out and you reply instantly.

“Oh, I’m trying to!”

Harry stops in his tracks as the girls start cheering and whistling at your comment. Slowly, a smirk tugs on his mouth as he takes the last few steps towards you, curling an arm around your shoulders and tugging you close so only you can hear when he says: “Oh you will get more than just a load when we get home.”

And you can’t hold back the smirk when you turn to look at him, catching him arching an eyebrow at you. It’s certain he thinks he got you speechless, but then you up it one more.

“Hmm, but something is off,” you pretend to think deep and he gets serious as well.

“What–” He doesn’t get to finish before you look him in the eyes and continue.

“Ah, nevermind. It’s just my clothes.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle as he shakes his head. 

“You’re banned from using that app ever again,” he says, kissing into your hair and you just shrug with a triumphant smile. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[dilf-docs]

Saturday But in Your Sunday Best

bfd!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel has a co-worker's wedding in las vegas. everything that can go wrong, does.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., creampie, oral (f. and m. receiving), breast play, fingering, dacryphilia, degradation kink, ANGST (as in i've suffered so will my characters. this wasn't at all what i had envisioned at first for this part), hurt/comfort, a bit of fluff (that's new), pls be nice this writer's block shot me in the foot

word count: 11,121 words

side note: sorry this took so long. between movie watching for the oscars, my other works, midterms, pedro pascal horny hours, my wattpad fic, the max fic you citizens let flop (ĉüřşę ÿoụ āĺļ), the brat taming fic that made numbers among my oomfs on twitter, a very shitty date (the situational irony of letting a man ruin my women's day) a ptwt fic gc in twitter (love u frens), and uni again, i let the ttdik series collect dust, my bad. as compensation, take this girthy chapter altho it makes me kinda insecure IDK. this is why i don't do series okay!! i'm my worst enemy and i fear procrastination is a chronical disease of mine atp

part: prev | masterlist | next

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas

His foot taps anxiously against the marble floor, sound drowned by the bustling crowd.

People come and go. Some hug, others cry. And Joel? Well, he's just waiting for you to come.

He checks his watch, the one Sarah gifted him, and sighs. Should've known better.

It's been two months since the pregnancy scare, and ever since then, you have put a bit of a distance between yourselves.

It was slow, gradual: first the excuses then nights were you wouldn't stay or ask him to. And, even if your affair was that, just an affair, he missed sleeping in the warmth of your embrace. He also missed the way your nose would crinkle when you laughed. You didn't laugh that often anymore, and if you did, it sounded like you were holding in: as if you were afraid to let loose and let him see through you. And to be honest, it was killing him.

So when he reached out to you for this, he should've expected for you to say no. That you wouldn't show up after that I'll see if I'm free text: no, Joel Miller simply shouldn't have harbored that much hope for his daughter's bestfriend he happened to be banging.

If he hadn't confirmed his invitation, he'd probably gone home and layed down. Watch some garbage TV with Sarah and some beer in hand, but here he was, like a lonely loser, luggage in hand.

(Sarah helped him pack. He didn't even know what to wear to a wedding, and then she showed up with his old suit-- that still fit, somehow, albeit a bit more tight, from the dry cleaning. Joel would be lost without her)

The speaker announces his flight is about to leave. Joel gets up, trying not to be dissappointed about the whole thing. He's got no right to, after all.

"Joel?"

He'd end up breaking his neck by how fast he turned.

There you are, and it's like the weight he wasn't aware of, settling on his chest, had been removed.

"You made it" is the first thing that makes it out of his lips.

You softly laugh, "Hello, Joel"

He gets closer to you, slowly, like if he where to do it faster, he'd scare you off. Or you'd be gone, as if a dream.

(It'd be a nightmare, though, because you wouldn't be here)

"Sorry. I-" he cuts off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. There's some tension lingering in the air, the same when you left his house a week ago. Joel had been too much of a coward to invite you then, rather hiding behind a screen.

But now you were here.

"I didn't think you'd come" he says after a beat of silence.

You tilt your head to the side, eyebrow up as if you hadn't been acting weird at all.

"Why wouldn't I?"

(Because it seems like being in the same room as me tires you. That your eyes don't shine anymore, and the starry sky looks like a storm when you dare search my gaze as we fuck. Every time you breath, its like breathing the same air as me burns)

He rather not press, so instead, he says:

"I'm jus' glad ya' came. 'S all"

You nod, not adding anything at all. Then, both you walk to your gate, side by side in silence, the same that had seemed to seep inside your romance for the past weeks.

Well, romance was definitely a stretch. An affair seemed more like it.

Of course, you're aware the change it's on you. It would've been dumb of you to think Joel wouldn't notice your withdrawal, or how more often than not you'd be stuck in your head. But still, he didn't comment on it, and like you, danced around the subject, afraid for different reasons as yours. Or the same. Yet, you'll never know. No, you're aware you both are too stubborn, and that whatever it started on that day, had settled in between like a burning flame.

(Had you been engulfed by the fire yet?)

You try not to think about it. After all, you had the option not to come. But a weekend away in Las Vegas after midterms? Too tempting to let go.

(And it's not like images of a stood up Joel in the airport, looking miserable, had made you restless the last couple of days after his text)

"Ya' can take the window" he says, even if it's his seat.

He knows you're nervous about flying, a little detail that came up during a post-sex small talk.

(What're you're dreams? Joel asked. You had answered that you'd love to travel the world after graduating, but that you had a fear for flying, despite having only done it once. It may have been because the first time you did, it was to fly for your grandma's funeral. Perhaps it was by association then, that the bad feelings about boarding a plane could be related to that)

"Thanks" you mumble, sitting down. You're avoiding his gaze, but know he's looking at you.

"What?" a little harsher than intended.

He looks taken back, looking at his lap as he let's out a soft whisper, sheepishly:

"Nothin'. Jus' thinkin' you look pretty today"

A light blush creeps up your cheeks as you huff out a Whatever.

Joel let's a breath of relief out his tight chest and allows himself to smile.

(At least, he's still got an effect on you)

The wedding Joel was supposed to attend is in the Ángel De La Guarda cathedral. You'd be staying nearby, at a hotel room Joel's coworker had paid for, the same where the reception would take place.

Being in the same room as Joel one night should be the least of your worries, but then the space is even smaller than it was supposed to (given by Joel's cursing as he paced around, anxiously), and the strain of your relationship settles in the air, physically so, tight around your throat.

Then, it's the bed issue: there's only one. It's not like you haven't slept in the same bed before, obviously, but there's a certain dread deep in your stomach about sharing the enclosed space when you're at your most vulnerable. He moves around a lot during night, and something tells you you'd wake up to his strong arms and hot breath fanning over your neck, hairs rising at the proximity, making it harded to calm your heart.

"You okay?" he's asking, dropping the bags in a corner.

"At what time is the wedding?" you ask.

He checks his watch. "In about seven hours"

The glass bounces a ray right into your face, and you have to close your eyes at yet nother reminder of why this is all so wrong.

Sarah.

"We should rest..." he says, plopping on the bed. His plaid t-shirt rises up at the same time the color of your cheeks does, when the glimpse of soft tanned skin reveals itself. He looks up to your stiff standing figure, bulk arms behind his neck as he rests his head on his biceps. "Don't 'cha think?"

Lay with me. Not outloud.

"No" you say, hastily so, not missing the way a flicker of dull akin to the pain of rejection finds its way to his brown eyes. "I..." your voice softens. "I'd rather take a tour of the place, you know? It's not like I'll come every weekend here"

He's about to raise up. I'm coming with you, again not out loud, in case you'd reject his offering again.

Which you do.

"I'm fine" you say, grabbing your purse. "Just... I need a moment"

Away from you.

"Suit yourself" but there's a sharp edge on his apparent kindness.

Closing the door behind you, it takes all of you to not turn around and see his face one last time.

You wander off through the bright lights and noisy hallways, walking until the sun of the outdoors filters a ray over the carpet through the glass doors. Strides take you to the pool area, kids giggling, parents sunbathing and youngsters chilling.

You sigh, dipping your feet in the pool, chlorine up your nose and water baterly grazing your sundress.

But you're drowning.

Drowning on his presence, every room he's in now smaller. Walls of the room collapsing, as the ones of your lungs, every breath tight if your nose catches a whiff of his scent lingering in the air. You'd wash the sheets almost immediately, crying when your head hit the pillow and it smelled like lavender and not Joel.

It was the only right choice: to erase him out of your life, because with every new kiss and thrust, he'd take another part of you with him, and you don't know how much more you can give of yourself without dying. A part of you dies every time he walks out the door, anxious heart pondering when will he walk out for good. When he'll realize the thrill is gone, that your escapades were all but a product of his crisis, and what started as a mutual use of bodies, ends in the waste of your heart.

Joel has become a drug for you: knowing it's destructive, but the high so addictive, you don't mind the crash. It's unevitable, and a small treacherous voice in the back of your head says you're just postponing a foretold death.

Yet Joel Miller makes you feel alive. Alive as a spring, grassbed full of blooming flowers. As sun carressing your skin: if you stay too long, the warm becoming burning.

A kid walks up to your sad lonely pensive corner, splashing water onto you.

"Hey!" but he's gone, and it's Vegas, so his parents are three mojitos down from the open bar, asleep under the sun. You curse, getting up and back to your room to change.

When you get to your room, is eerily quiet. And dark, the curtains closed.

You rumage through your suitcase, pulling out a change. The dress slips off, falling to the carpet with a pathetic drowned sound. You're about to change into the t-shirt when the lights flicker.

"You back?"

You scream, trying to cover yourself.

"Woah!" Joel covers his eyes, both your reactions ironically funny. Your cheeks burn as you finish dressing yourself up, and if he takes a small peak between his fingers, well, you'll never know. "Jesus, doll. If ya' wanted it so bad, could've asked"

Something akin to anger and deception morph into a burning flame in the pit of your stomach. Even after all this months, after this imminent fight, Joel can't bring himself to ask, dancing around the fragile line that barely holds on with the clap of skin against skin and sweat, as to replace the tears that will never see the light of the day.

"Right, because that's all I want"

He raises an eyebrow at your tone. "S' a joke"

"Jokes are supposed to make people laugh"

He shoots you a look, before standing from the bed.

"What's gotten into ya'?"

He walks closer, yet you give him your back, tossing the sundress with too much force in your bag.

"Don't know what you're talking about" as nonchalant as you can muster.

"Look at me" you keep the harsh packing going on. Joel grows impatient at your confusing demeanor, not just from today, but days ago. He's had enough. He spins you around, losing his cool as he shouts. "Damn it, y/n, stop actin' like a brat!"

"Don't touch me!" you yell back, pulling away.

"So that's how's it now?" Joel lets out a scoff. "Y' get on ma' bed but the moment I put a finger in ya', y'act all coy and angry?"

"Right, 'cause I'm a slut. That's what sluts do: we get on lonely men's bed and fuck them"

He grabs the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily. His voice is laced with frustration, and you know it's your fault.

"Never said that"

Why not talk it like adults? No. Too much of a coward to do that.

"Jus' tell me, doll. What's goin' on?"

I think I love you, and I'm fucking scared.

His voice is soft, pleading. In your lifetime, you never thought you'd see Joel Miller beg. You did once, but it wasn't like this. Please, he'd say. Now, here he is, standing before you like the smallest man who ever lived and not the unstoppable force you made him out to be.

It should be easy. But words never come easy. Not to you. Neither love, so foreign it makes you shiver with fear. So natural, one day you opened your eyes to him laying next to you, Sarah staying in another city for a soccer tournament, and decided that was what you wanted. All his mornings. His bed voice, thick from sleep. His droopy eyes and tired smile, facil hair tickling your face as he says Good mornin', Southern drawl never more prominent, kisses in between. Let's get sum coffee after, because he always had to drink the bitter liquid out of his owl mug or wouldn't be able to make it through the day.

You want him to be the first thing you see when you open your eyes.

You want Joel Miller. Want. Want. Want.

"I hate you"

You have ruined me.

He probably expected anything but that, given his crestfallen face. Joel wishes for time to go back, at the beach. He'd say no, push you away. Fought a little harder. Never gotten into your bed.

The worst part is, he's a fucking liar: he'd probably still choose the same, even if the end is near.

"You ain't mean that" not knowing if he's trying to convince you or himself. "Jus' wanna hurt me"

You don't humor him with an answer.

"I shouldn't have come" is what you say instead, the bitter taste of defeat and hurt etched in your voice.

Would've been easier to stop when we should've.

His words run through the tense air like a bullet.

"I agree"

Weddings had always made you cry.

You weren't even a romantic, but the whole thing-- the promise of forever, it seemed to move your heart a bit.

So, if your eyes shimmer when the bride makes her entrance and the groom, Joel's co-worker, tears up, you feel your chest tight and stomach drop. It clenches with something akin to dread and want, as if suddenly, all that mattered to you was love. A year ago, if you told yourself-- the one who got on her knees to suck Joel's dick at the beach that night, that you'd be here?

You would've laughed.

Falling for the grumpy old man who also happens to be your bestfriend's dad?

Right. Imagine that.

Except there is nothing to imagine. All of it is real.

From his quiet laughter, the sound foreign and not frequent by the way it rasps against his throat. But now the wrinkles around his eyes are more prominent, forbidden laughs marking his blushing face. as he looks away, embarrassed. You can laugh, you had said, I won't tell anyone, yet he made you swore like the sight of Joel Miller laughing was the worst thing in the world. So had become the grey strands on his hair, more sprouting each time, as his damp curls twisted in your fingers.

It is also in the way his sweat that drops over your body as he tries hard to last longer, to his grunts that fill the room as he fills you to the brim with his warm cum. How his rough seems to meet every inch of your soft skin, like pieces of a puzzle.

Something clicks when you're with Joel, and you can't help but feel it's your fault this rift has been created, aggressively peeling the white off your nails as some form of anxious torture. But, he too, aside from his initial Just glad you came, hadn't said a word about it again. Even if he had noticed it all, before Vegas too. Nothing. And then Joel told you it was best if you didn't come. Fucking great.

You feel him tense next to you, body stiff when your arm accidentally brushes his when you stand up from the bench, making you roll your eyes.

The fallout had been awkward. The elevator ride took forever, and then the space on the cab felt too small. He took you to the back, on the benches near the exit, like he didn't want to be seen with you. It got you fuming: why bother to invite you at all?

In all truth, you could've picked up your bags and left after the fight, yet you stayed. You wonder who's more of a coward. In this weird dancing around you've got going on, walking in circles over the words Stay and Leave, like both are too delicate to say out loud. Even as the couple speak their vows, amid the claps and tears, your mind keeps drifting back to one question: Which would hurt less?

It's not until it ricochets on your arm that you realize the tears are also your own. You brush it fast, but by the corner of your eye, you know Joel notices. Still, he doesn't say anything, which contributes to your spite.

The ceremony is over, and just as you can feel the anticipation of the reception's drinks to buzz your nerves down, someone blocks you the exit. A couple, more like it.

Before fully registering their faces, Joel's hand flies to your back, pressed in a firm manner that oozes protectiveness. It makes your heart flutter, no matter how much you try to suffocate the treacherous butterflies in your stomach. You try not to think too much about it as you take them in: a man, looking in his middle forties, probably around the same age as Joel, so as the woman next to him, who smiles warmly. Not like the man, who seems unwelcoming.

"Joel" he pronounces his name, manners coming out cold. "It's nice to see you made it"

His grip on your back becomes more firm.

"Mark" he uses the same tone. "Well, when ya' confirm, y'gotta come"

"And who may this be?" Mark's wife asks, not thinking there's harm in her words. You swear you can hear him snicker next to her.

"She's-"

Joel stops midtrack. How is he supposed to even call you?

"I'm his girlfriend"

You don't know why you did that but you did. You also don't know why it causes you such satisfaction to see their wide eyes and Mark's disdain.

"Oh, I didn't know you had a girlfriend. How lovely!"

His cheeks go pink. "Thanks, Laura"

"Yes, Joel. Didn't think you'd move on" but his tone isn't like his wife's. "I just assumed that being with someone wasn't on your list anymore, you know, at your age. Especially one so... young"

Laura shots him a look.

Maybe it wasn't your place to get angry, not after how you've subjected Joel to your silent treatment this past months. Not after the fight you've just had hours ago. But he is also the same man who held your hand after you thought you were pregnant. He was the one who stayed. It is too how his shoulders slump, like he believes it to be true. You can't bear to see him sad, as contradictory as that may sound.

"Mark, right?"

The man nods, still sickly smiling.

"To me it sounds like you're jealous. Which is awful, because you've got a lovely wife" she looks away embarrassed while Mark fumes. "Also, when I turn around, try not to stare at my ass. I saw you when we arrived"

There's nothing left to say, so you walk past them.

"I think that was funny. Don't you?"

He avoids looking at you.

"I called a cab. Should take us back to the hotel"

No thanks. Nothing.

"Alright" your tone is dry. "Do as you please"

He opens the door for you, but his movements seem stiff and unnatural. Like he's second guessing every breath and step.

The car begins to move. You lean against the window, seeing the hues of neon through the glass. Joel's eyes burn holes on your head, a glimpse of brown in the reflection.

"I liked the wedding"

Joel looks at you properly for the first time since the fight. Your hair falls gracefully in cascades, hinting at an effort that tries to pass as a nonexistent one. Your makeup is soft, but your lips are in a shade he can't quite name, yet manage to make them even more fuller than usual. God, he thinks of it smeared on his clothes and mouth, feeling dumb all of the sudden. Then there's the dress. He doesn't have a favorite color, but as of now, it may be red: specially if its the red that hugs your curves, pushes your tits up and gives a little peak of your leg with its open cut, dangerously close to the start of your inner thigh. Not appropriate to wear at a church, maybe not a wedding either, but fuck didn't he care. He'd even rip it off, if it was such a problem.

"It was beautiful" he agrees, softly. "Never been to one. Maybe's why I think so"

You remove yourself from the window, now holding his gaze.

"What?" your mouth drops in surprise. "What about yours? Weren't you married?"

He smiles, but it appears to be sad. "Never got time for a wedding thought"

Joel has told you things. Things he'd never say outloud to anyone else. So whenever he opens up, letting you in, you let him, feeling that familiar pleasing ache in your chest at the thought of being enough: enough to be trusted with a piece of him. Of Joel Miller's heart.

The rest of the ride is silent, your mind still on Joel's hand on your back, on his words, and how the sting never goes.

In every thought of yours, he is.

"What'appened to your nails?"

The question catches you off guard. You're surprised he even noticed at all. But your hand lays in the space between his and your dish, stiff, as if waiting for him to hold it.

"Oh" you remove it from the table, placing it in your lap. "I chipped the polish off"

"Why?"

You turn to look at him, brown eyes examining you curiously, as if he didn't know you. Like he hadn't almost whisper those three words you had been tettering around as well.

"Why what Joel?" tone brash.

He scoffs at the change again, shoulders slumping a bit. Probably in annoyance, perhaps in defeat.

"Dunno" he goes back to his dish, cutting the steak with a bit too much force. I thought we were okay again. "S'rry I asked"

Your chest tightens, as it had been doing lately.

Was this the only thing you knew how to do now? Hurting Joel?

"No, I'm sorry"

It's his turn to get back at you. "Sorry for what?"

You swallow the lump that's formed in your throat, avoiding his gaze.

"I-"

Your eyes nervously dart across the room, trying to ignore the churn of your stomach and knot on your throat. You then catch the perfect distraction.

"I think Mark is staring at us again"

"What?" Joel asks in disbelief at your change of topic.

"Mark is staring" you sigh, getting up and dusting your dress off. "Wanna put on a show?"

"I didn't come to a wedding and wore this dress to be seated all night" you extend your hand. A quiet truce settles in between. "Let's dance"

At some point he gets up and takes your hand. It feels good. For a moment, be it childish or foolish, your mind thinks this is how it is: with no one around to know you, you're his and he's yours. It's just the two of you, dancing and laughing under the lights. He'd know the song that's playing, and when you'd ask, unfamiliar, Joel would joke: how could ya' know it, if you ain't even born yet?

For just a moment, it feels like it could be.

The music is soft. It's some sort of rendition of Lady, Lady, Lady by the band Jim hired to play at his wedding.

Joel's clammy hands slip against your cold palms as you walk to the dance floor.

"Nervous?" you ask, biting back a smile.

He squints his eyes at you. "I'm just outta practice, 's all"

You laugh. "I would've never guessed"

He shakes his head, but the ghost of a smirk hides in his lips.

"Cheeky baby. Now you actin' funny?"

Joel's hand finds its place in your waist, holding firmly as the first verses go by.

Dancing behind masks, just sort of pantomime.

But images reveal whatever lonely hearts can hide.

"Maybe I'm just tired" you reply, placing your head against his chest. His heart starts drumming faster, and you hear him gulp.

"It ain't even midnight yet"

You close your eyes, feeling every breath of his chest against your cheek.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about"

Lady, lady, lady, lady

I know it's in your heart to stay

"Y/n-"

Lady, lady, lady, lady

"I'm sorry" this time clearer.

His body rocks yours slowly to the tempo of the music, and for a brief moment, amongst the sea of guests and the voice of the singer, time stops, and it's just him and you.

"Don't"

He can't bear it. Not tonight.

When will I ever hear you say

I love you

Not when your body feels so well against his, your head resting on his chest like all those nights ago, where Joel held you close, the silent promise of never letting you go on his warm strong embrace. Not when just the thought of losing you is too unbearable to even think of. Not when today, he can let his mind drift away and heart beat, dreaming of things that'll make him the butt of the joke. For a moment, you're not wearing this red dress that's making him insane. You're all in white and there's a ring in your hand, just as there's one in his. You'd dance and say I'm yours, forever. A giggle. You can't get rid of me. And he'd smile and reply a Good, wasn't plannin' to.

But now he feels like he's going to lose you forever.

"I missed you" it's your way of trying, again.

His head is a whirlwind of emotions.

"Yeah?"

You lean closer, until his cologne burns in your nostrils.

"Yeah"

Time like silent stares, with no apology

"Joel"

Move towards the stars, and be my only one

This time, he finds it impossible to shut you up. Not when you've raised your head until your eyes meet his, and the constellations he very much loves are ever present in your stare.

Reach into the light, and feel love's gravity

"Yeah?"

You pull in closer, and he can feel the whiff of champagne coming out of your mouth. Your lips are parted, and a shaky whisper is all it takes for his head to spin, drunk in love.

"Please"

That pulls you to my side, where you should always be

Your lips are so inviting. All he has to do is cut the centimeters separating your mouths.

But it's a wall. One filled with doubts, fear and the quiet rage of rejection.

His voice wavers when he starts speaking.

"I think-"

He hasn't even finished his sentence, but your heart is already broken.

No wonder why you've always treated it like a burden: nothing is worst than a heavy heart.

Maybe he'd come to realize just how absurd this all was. Him, much older than you and Sarah's dad. How could he let his daughter's bestfriend go this far. That he was a forty something guy, dancing with a twenty two year old girl. That love comes in all shapes and sizes, but there's no name for this you have going on since last summer. Perhaps, there'll never be.

"Please" you hear yourself repeat.

It started as a plea for a kiss. You don't know what you're begging for anymore.

"No, baby-"

And Joel is the first to step back.

Lady, lady, lady, lady, I know it's in your heart to stay

The cold water of rejection hits you in the face, far from his warm embrace, the contour of his face, centimeters away, now meters.

"We can't"

An ocean away.

"Joel-" your throat tightens, panic bubbling in your chest.

"I think we should stop"

The whole world around you does as soon as those words leave his mouth.

Sorrow is quick to turn into anger, and all those months of guilt, rush, thrill, labored breaths, broken rules and promises you held to your heart as an oath, sweet whispered cons in your pillow that smelled like him. It all comes crashing down with force.

A dry laugh escapes past your lips. Joel winces at the sound.

"A bit too late for that, isn't it?"

"Baby-"

"Don't call me baby" you hiss, feeling your vision blurry. "Don't call me like you meant it"

"I do" the music has reduced to a buzz in the back of your head. His firm voice borders between desperate and pathetic. "Which is why am making 'tis"

"Fucking coward" you spit, feeling your skin on fire.

Don't give up. Please.

Fight for me. Fight for this.

For us.

"Coward?" it's Joel's turn to laugh. His dark chuckle sends shivers through your skin. "Y' shouldn't be talkin' 'bout that"

"Don't put all of this on me" you raise your shaky finger, accusing. "Don't you fucking dare"

"Thought Mark was watchin'. Or 's that 'nother one of y'r lies?" Joel seethes. "Or maybe ya' don't give a shit 'bout it. Jus' like you ain't give a shit 'bout us!"

"You think this is easy?" your voice raises. "You think I wanted this?"

You think I don't care? That I'm doing well? That I wanted to pull away from you? That I knew things would got as bad as they are?

You think I wanted to fall for you?

His eyes darken. "You started this"

Your heart stops beating. People laugh, the band is still playing and chatter bubbles like the champagne flutes waiters carry by.

But all you can hear is the moment your palm meets his face.

"I wish I never met you, Joel Miller"

And then you rush out the door, your heels burning as much as your eyes and chest. Far from the party, far from the world.

Far from him.

"We ain't done yet!"

You hear him bark behind you, yet your legs don't stop, despite the buzz in your ears and the slight stumble in your walk.

Your voice sounds like it doesn't belong to you when you hear yourself speak, without turning around.

"I think we are"

But Joel doesn't give up, making you feel trapped between wanting to hit him again and let yourself be held.

"Y/n!" he calls out just like he used to when you were a kid. Like you knew no better. Reckless. Berating. But now the taste of bitter mingles with his punishing demeanor.

You spin your heel, walking menacingly towards him.

"Don't call me that" you seethe, jabbing a finger to his chest.

"That's your fucken name!" he shouts.

Tears spring in the corner of your eyes. "You know what I mean"

"Enlighten me, doll" the nickname feels like a slap to your face, and for a moment, you wish he called you by your name again, instead of tainting the always sweet calling with his vitriol, as if the four letters meant something sacred he had profaned. "S'a matter of fact, why don't y'enlight me 'bout everythin' that's goin' on. 'Cause guess what? I'ont know what the fuck is happenin'!"

And it terrifies me.

His shout probably ran across the empty hallway. The music coming from inside sounds like a muffled heartbeat, mirroring your own.

To lose you. I might as well have.

"I don't know why you seem'a hate me now" quiet this time, like every word coming from his mouth take his voice little by little. "Why ya' get all sweet on me after weeks of leavin' me, pushin' me to the side... I'm old, doll. I ain't capable of takin' this anymore"

I'm not capable of surviving a broken heart.

The possibility of losing Joel, foever, had never crossed your mind, not even as you closed off, ignoring the way his brown sad eyes would search yours to try and find answers, maybe scraps of the... whatever it was you shared.

Now, it was real, and it shook you to the bone.

"Was fun while it lasted" closing off, trying to shut the doors he let you in, clawing back to that Joel Miller who couldn't be bent. The one Sarah deemed unbreakable. But it's the same that didn't know when to back down, now praying the price of his foolishness.

I don't regret it, but Joel doesn't have it in him to give you more of his heart for you to take. If he cuts it now, from the root, he'll spare his brain from saving more seconds of the image of you he'd have to get rid off: you, taking your coffee with two bags of sugar because you hated uneven numbers, and three seemed too much for your latte. You, standing on his room like you belonged there. You, on his car, the leather having absorbed some of the floral scent you seemed to carry with you. In your clothes, your skin, your hair. He'd have to go to bed knowing he'd never get to feel your strands in his fingers, tickling the remmanents of desolation he'd been carrying like a second skin ever since Sarah's mother walked away.

Your blood runs cold.

"Fun?" the words spill in a bitter incredulous tone, all the while you're trying to hold to him without raising your hand for him to take it, like just the thought of it would be enough to choose you. Words seem to fail you, and grasping at him feels like holding sand: it keeps falling from your fingers, a cruel reminder of your borrowed time. "Joel"

"Fun" he repeats the word, feeling sick. "As in, you'd marry someone who's worth for ya'. Probably choose Texas, maybe you'll stay away. 'Cause you're smart, and know what's good. But if ya' came back, livin' at the same neighbour, in the house across mine, you'd glance up and see my porch, thinkin' 'bout us, and this will become a joke with y'r husband, 'bout your rebel days. To your kids, summ cautionary tale. To you? An'scape of summ sorts of y'r other wise boring life"

Your shaking at this point, not knowing if it's anger, humilliation or sorrow.

I'm sorry. Please, don't give up on me. Stay.

"I'd be an experience. But to me? Doll" Joel chuckles, humorlessly. "You were everythin'"

A choked up sob bubbles from your chest.

"So that's what you think of me?" you laugh, a sound so hollow it makes his skin shiver. "That this is for the thrill? For the fucking anecdote?!"

"Trust me. I've lived long 'nough, kid. You'll understand later"

It's like all those months next to him meant nothing. Like pulling away from your lips was the easiest thing to do.

"Don't you fucking dare call me a kid!" you push him. "I'm not a kid"

"I know you ain't!" he roars back. "But you don't know shit!"

"Neither do you!" your quick to counter. "You think you've got me all figured out, huh? Bet you think that I'm some helpless naive idiot who doesn't know what I want. I don't know what I'm doing, that you're right. But I do know what I signed up for, the price I would pay" losing you or Sarah. Both. "I wanted it, and newsflash: so did you" you breath, running your hands through your hair, trying to comb some sense of normalcy to ground yourself while you try to recover your composture. His arms lay weakly by his sides, restraining himself from running to you and craddle you on his arms. "You chose this. You chose me, Joel Miller" each word pronounced with contempt. "I'm not a victim. Neither are you"

A dry chuckle escapes past his chapped lips. "What are we, then?"

(Two lonely souls who seek warmth. People who fell into the same bed. Shared time they shouldn't have. Selfish. Living on borrowed time. Always tettering around the edge, so easy to fall. History repeating itself. The dancing around. Dirty, like the Texan roads: and they all lead back to his bed)

"So do it" you shove him again, as if by doing so, you could push him away forever. From your mind, from your heart. From your life. "Say it"

He shakes his head, as if you'd insulted him.

"Sweetheart-"

"Say. It" you bark, tasting the venom on your tongue. "Say it!"

"I can't" looking so small, your resolve almost crumbles. Almost.

"Coward" you spit, repeatedly punching him feebly on the chest as tears stream down your cheeks. He tries to grab your hands, to stop you. "Don't touch me! Let me go"

"I can't" this time louder.

Tears sprout with more intensity at the desperate weight on his tone.

A single drop runs down when you say, defeated: "Quit me"

"I can't!" he shouts in your face, voice breaking slightly.

"Why?!"

"'Cause I fucking can't!" Joel breaks. He crumbles in your arms, body shaking as he buries himself in your reluctant embrace. He speaks again, this time softer, "I can't lose 'cha, baby. If that makes me sum goddamn coward, then so be it"

Something in you stirs. Like a lost boat, finding a lighthouse during a storm. Arriving to shore with gentle waves. Home, where it belongs.

"Joel-"

"I'm sorry for bein' selfish" between agitated and terrified, afraid of the silence and what you may say. "For noticin' your quiet and still carryin' on"

"Joel"

"Believe me, doll. I tried to stop. To leave ya'" he swallows, "but then I got invited and my mind went to ya'. Fast. You were the first person in my mind. Always are. I think that's when I knew. S'okay if you don't-"

"Joel!" you shout this time.

He raises his view from his little spot on your chest.

"It isn't just you" in a whisper that could easily pass as the wind that sweeps inside from the main door. Voice so fragile it hurts like glass. "I feel this too"

Just like that, he's both gone and back. His heart beats on his throat, voice raw when he searches for your eyes and asks:

"You do?"

The big unbreakable Joel Miller, looking at you not like a force to be reckoned with, but as a man, worn down by years of solitude and the weight of a secret.

You smile through the tears. "I've been many things, but a liar never"

He chuckles, softly. "Always was a bad one"

"See?" softly teasing, "you can attest to that"

"Twenty one years seem 'nough"

"Soon to be twenty two" pause. "And I would love it if you were there to see it"

A breath hitches somewhere in the middle of the new aphonia that's settled.

"You don't mean all'at. Think 'bout it-"

"I do" you interrupt him, firmly. You hold his gaze while cupping his face, the fright on his face mirroring your own. "You asked before, remember? There's your answer"

Joel is at loss for words. Was never good with them, less when it came to you: like your presence unsettled him in the same way tornadoes made him quiver when he was a child, rattling him to the bone. But there was a morbid fascination to them, in their destructive nature. Like beauty could be horror too, and he had learnt it thanks to your unforgiving winds that had swept him away from his feet.

He was flying. Fucking flying. Never quite landing. Afraid of the fall.

"I'm scared"

Joel leans in, forehead touching yours. His skin is warm, something about it soothing your nerves down.

"Me too"

You bite back a smile. "Big broody Miller, scared?"

"Y' know how'da disarm a man. I'll give ya' that"

You laugh, eyes crinkling while you swat his chest playfully. It's the same sound he missed so dearly. Joel can feel himself breath with relief.

"Now that's the story I'll tell my kids" could be our own. "The one where I won over Joel Miller"

A deep, rich rumble erupts from his chest as he pulls you even closer, this time, your head the one on his chest.

"I'll do you one better" he slowly moves his leg closer to the inner part of your thighs. "Wanna hear how it ends?"

"Jesus, Joel" laugh tense. Your heart pulses like his cock. Hard. "You sure are a mood killer"

He presses further. "But ya' want it, don't 'cha?"

You whimper, weakly. Truth is, you've been wet since you saw him dress on his rather tight suit. Now, after what you just confessed, you're not sure you can hold back any longer.

"Use y'r words, baby"

"Our room" the possesive adjective making his stomach rumble with need. "Now"

Stumbling feet. Whispered breaths oozing with drunk desire. Giggles. Buttons of an elevator pressed forcefully. A crammed space that felt even smaller. More giggles in a hallway full of doors that looked the same. Some mumbling, trying to remember the room. Grabbing the card from his pocket. You somehow make it to your room. Fumbling fingers. One swipe. Two. Try slower, but his voice is as urgent as strained. The door gives in. Finally, couldn't wait any longer. And he's chastising you, for being so impatient. Yet his eyes are all dark and sweet when looking it at you.

"We're here" and then the door closes with a loud thud. And Joel is yours again, just like he was that night, and forever was since.

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back fervently. You open your mouth and let his tongue get inside as you moan his name.

"Please" you whine.

"Please what?" Joel chuckles, enamoured at your hanging mouth and heaving chest. Fucking tease. "Use y'r words, doll"

"Please, Joel" and hearing your name fall out of your lips like it's the most sacred prayer brings him weak to his knees. "I need you"

(I need you, as in I need you here. With me. Now. To never let go and hold my hand, not only when we fuck, but also when we walk, side by side, hands brushing like a touch it's too much to bear. Because if we held hands, I'd never be able to pull back. I need you to look at me as you undress me, because I'm bearing all of me for you, scars, body and secrets, trembling like a scared child, because no one's ever had me. Not like you. Not like you)

"'S right, sweet thing" he drawls out in a husky whisper, like his slick tongue was coated in honey. He pulls your head back, nipping and sucking on your skin. "Say ma' name like 's the only thing you know"

And in a way, it is. Because you'd always call Joel, fingers itching at a number you've memorized until it's burned in your eyelids, like when you close your eyes, you can see him standing in front of you, Texan accent and heavy boots in your doorstep, later to be discarded and hidden beneath your bed.

He pulls back, making you involuntary whine at the loss of his lips and tongue on you.

"Tell me you want this" he's saying, and for a moment, past the fire and the need, you see Joel as not the man who can bring you to come two times in a row, but your bestfriend's dad, who's slept in a bed alone for the past two decades, who can't meet you in the eyes when he undresses himself, looking like the one who's got the more to lose when his lips press aginst yours in a soft manner, not out of tenderness but out of fear.

"I do" without hesitation, as if you would tattoo your promise and wear it like your heart on your sleeve. "I want you, Joel"

You want all of him: from his boring Sundays sprawled on the couch watching a rerun of some old sitcom to his greying hair, aching joints and creaking bones, that despite so, would still kneel and eat your pussy like a man starved, tongue sliding through your folds with a learned ache, pouring the same yearn, longing and hunger that he wears on his eyes when they land on you, no matter if his brown are miles away, because they'd always find your own, like a boat lost in translation and a sea of sorrow coming back home, as if you're the only important thing in the world. His anchor. The lighthouse of his vast ocean of forlorness.

"That's my girl" but no smirk adorns his face, rather a small smile that warms your chest, right as he pulls you back in. There's a shift in the aire as he kisses you know, as if not only his tongue is in your insides but his soul, without holding back this time, like all limits have blurred and melted into a pool of desire and affection.

Joel pushes you down onto the wide bed, climbing on top of you as he kisses your jawline, leaving wet kisses along your warm skin. You moan as every contact of his mouth sends shudders to your body, him taking his time as he works over your jaw, down to your chest.

"Such'a pretty doll. And's mine" his calloused fingers fiddle with your bra, unclasping the lingerie until it falls messily discarded next to the bed. "Got summ nice tits on you, baby" and Joel's eyes sparkle with excitement, lighting up like the neon lights of the Vegas sign, "don't 'cha think?"

Your back arches with his touches, mouth ghosting over your nipple, already pebbled at just Joel's breath.

"Fuck, Joel" you mewl his name, dragged with difficulty as he laps his tongue over your breasts greedily. You can feel Joel's cock pulse and throbb in your thigh as his body hovers over yours, lips still wrapped around your nipple as he suckles and nibbles at the tender flesh.

"'S sorry, doll" he's apologizing in a mocking manner as you whimper at the contact of him against you, suckling hard, tongue swirling and flicking over the sensitive bud as he drew it deeper into the wet heat of his mouth. "Ain't know you'd be so fucken responsive with just a lil' lick at y'r pretty tits"

As your body trembles and quakes, he speaks again.

"Open y'r mouth" you do so, because honestly, you'd never deny him a thing. "Want 'cha to suck on 'tis fingers, like the slut ya're. Get them wet so they feel good against 'tis greedy pussy"

You take the fingers as you'd take his cock, sucking on the skin that tastes like salt and gasoline, a slight bitter taste but you take them as deep as you can, until your lips brush his rough knuckles.

"Good greedy whore" he praises. "Now let me help ya' with that"

Joel gestures your damp panties, taking them off and putting them up his nose, inhaling like he did the first time you ever fucked, back at the beach house that summer that feels a life ago, seawaves crashing onto the shore as they drowned out your moans.

"Sweet" as if your arousal was his favorite dessert, gripping the sticky lingerine until his knuckles turn white. "Fucken wet and drippin', and s'all for me"

He feels your greedy hands fumble with his pants and belt, pulling him closer as the feeling of unfairness at his clothed figure dawns upon you.

"I like how you look in a suit, but right now-"

He laughs, a deep rich sound bubbling up from his chest.

"Ma' baby wants it that bad, huh?" you nod your head feverishly, a beg threatening past your lips.

"Please, Joel. I want to suck your cock" the dirty words come out as quick as a breath. "I missed it so so bad" not caring at all about how desperate you come across or the pitiful begging that's a plea away from drooling out of your mouth with an aching hunger.

"'S that what you want? Draggin' me out'a reception 'cause y'r greedy dirty mouth couldn't keep still? Bet you'd crawl on da' floor just to get a taste of this dick" every word makes you mewl. "Might have to see ya' beggin' for it"

"I'll do it" you beg, voice a wanton plea. "I'll do whatever, I just need to-"

"I see ya' really do"

He removes your hands from his body, chuckling as you pout and whine like a baby.

"Love hearin' ya' so eager fo'me" Joel says, tugging the pants finally down. Through the cloth of his underwear, it's impossible not to see the silhoutte of his hard throbbing dick.

The sight of him, hair disheveled, pupils blown wide, white button shirt now wrinkled and sticky with sweat, tie loose and that faint smell of champagne that clung to his mouth and scent like a second layer of his skin.

"Get on the floor. Now" he commands, and you're quick to obey. "Gonna fuck that dirty mouth of yours until my cum dribbles outta your cheek. S' now? Be obedient if ya' want a taste, slut"

You let out a small whimper as Joel frees his cock from his underwear.

"That's right, baby. Like what ya' see?" his cock is straddling your face in your current kneeling form. "Need that mouth to open wider"

You obey in an instant.

"Good girl"

Joel shoves his cock inside your mouth, giving you a few seconds to adjust before pushing a little further. You bob your head forward but the task proved to be hard when he was thrusting at the same time. His big hard dick hits the back of your throat, a gag dying past your busy lips. 

"'S it bad if I tell ya' I like watchin' you squirm and struggle with my cock? 'S fuckin' hot"

You narrow your eyes, struggling to keep your throat relaxed as he thrusts forward, fucking your mouth and throat. Your thighs clasp together, the slick pooling down your legs in the absence of underwear.

Joel's groans become raspier as his body begins to tense.

"'M gonna fuck y'r throat raw, doll. And then, I'm gonna cum. Down y'r greedy throat. 'S my girl okay with that" he can see the plea in your eyes as you choke on his cock once more. "S'alright then. Ya' know I love to spoil ma' girl"

As his body starts to edge closer, his tongue runs loose.

"Love watching you suck ma' dick" he looks down on you, eyes glossy, probably because he was drunk in alcohol and you. "Love how it feels. Love how you feel. Love- I love you"

(There's an involuntary gag somewhere)

Joel's body tenses and it doesn't take that much for you to feel the warmth of his cum go down your throat.

You choke again and he brings his dick out of your throat and let you swallow the rest. 

There's a beat of silence, as dense as his fluids down your throat. You avoid his gaze, heart drumming on your chest.

"Doll..." he whispers, the last bits of climax sweating off his skin; all that's left is shame. "C'mere"

(Say it back, he should plead. I know your eyes don't lie, but if I heard those three silly words out of your mouth, I could die happy tonight. A bigger man would beg, but he's never been good, even if he tried)

He helps you get up, wobbly legs not being of help when it comes to the shock of his confession.

I love you.

As much as a tender touch as a knife slitting your chest open in a clean cut.

(You're bleeding love)

Love.

Such a foreign word, one you've never felt before. Yet, what's scary is recognizing that latent warmth on every stolen glance; brush of a hand. The tingles provoked by getting the largest serving, even if his daughter sat at the same table. The flutter of your chest when he tried to be there for you when you thought you were pregnant, even if he was as scared as you. In every little thing he had done since you first started playing with fire, how you wore his heartbeat as an echo and his skin like a second layer to your own.

His lips are swollen when they take yours.

"'S fine" some kind of tiredness seeping through the cracks of his gruff exterior and composed rejected posture. "Ya' don't have to-"

"I love you" you croack out.

His voice comes out impossibly small as he whispers. "What...?"

A fireworks show explodes out somewhere in the background.

"I love you" you repeat, words dripping with an adoration only known to captain's going down with their sinking ships.

You're drowning, but the water doesn't burn your lungs anymore.

"Lemme help with that sore throat of yours" he's tugging down your bottom lip, fingers playing with your mouth to open it. He gazes at you with a look that tugs at your heartstrings. "Open, baby"

Your dry throat and warm mouth welcomes the spit he lands inside.

"There ya' go" and you swallow it, making him curse. "Fuck. 'S so hot seein' you do that, my lil' sweet slut"

"Joel" you whine, hands curled up in white fists as you grab him by the collar of his button shirt.

"Whoa, baby. What's goin' on?" he chuckles softly. "Use y'r words"

"Y-You made a mess-" you blabber, the wet slick between your thigh sticky. "I-It hurts, Joel"

"Hurt?" he cocks an eyebrow. "Care to show me where?"

You sit in the bed, parting your legs, finger pointing out the moist zone.

"Here"

His adam's apple bobs, and the gulp reverberates against the walls of the room.

"Fuck... I see" each word strained. "Don't worry, doll. I can help ya' with'at"

It's his turn to kneel, knees burying on the carpet.

He places one of his big hands on your knee, his calloused fingers tracing absent patterns over the skin. His other hand drums slighty against your trembling leg, so close yet so far. You're so impossibly eager, and a part of him, that fragile ego, is boosted to the roof at your (actual and very real) want for him.

All that glistening pussy was his work. Joel really disarmed you like that.

"If I do this, maybe it won't hurt anymore" his mustache and recently trimmed beard tickle against your sensitive folds as he presses a kiss to your core. You writhe, throwing your head back as your hands fly to his hair, gripping the greying loose curls tightly at the contact. "Will ya' let me eat out this pretty pussy, doll?"

"Please" you let out, breathlessly.

"Love hearin' ya' beg" and he dives in, strong hands holding your thighs on place as he sucks your clit lightly. Your hips buck, his face burying into your cunt to the point his nose touches the warm folds. You moan at the feeling, his tongue now circling against your center.

"J-Joel"

"Feels s'good, right? As good as I feel feastin' on this tight little cunt" and his deep voice sends jolts when it echoes against your walls. You squirm at the sensation, stomach tight with his sucking and licking, misntrations sending you to the edge.

"Joel?"

Barely above a whisper, voice tight.

He looks up to you, pupils blown wide. "Yes?"

"C-Can you finger me, please?"

"Fuck, baby" he whistles. "You really know how'da bring a man to his knees"

And you chuckle at his lame attempt of a joke, not laughing at him but with him.

Joel slides one of his thick, calloused fingers through your soaked folds, feeling the velvet softness of your inner walls clench down on the invading digit, a demonstration of how impatient they were to take his cock. He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in tight, slow circles.

"Wanna hear you, y/n" just your name alone on his mouth makes you writhe, and Joel's encouragement as his finger dips lower to tease at your entrance. He slides a second finger into your cunt, pumping in and out of your tight walls in a steady, driving rhythm. You roll against his hand as he curls his fingers. "Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby. Wanna see you ride 'em 'til you come undone. Wanna taste your cum on my tongue as you scream ma' name"

He can feel your body start to tremble, pussy clenching down on his fingers as he fucks you with a relentless pace.

"Shit" he groans, tongue lapping firmly at your clit, "s' fucking tight"

"I-I can't help it" you feel the burning sensation in the corner of your eyes, "I-I feel every inch of you in me"

(Up to your body, head and heart)

"And you ain't even had my cock yet" he's quick to tease. "But I know you'll feel s'good, baby. Takin' my cock like da' good girl y'are"

Tears begin to stream down your face freely, the salty drops hot against your warm skin.

You sniffle, and Joel's movements stop for a bit.

"You cryin'?" but you know damn well he's aroused, by the way he licks his lips absentmindedly as his brown orbs stare back at you, dilatated. You still remember the last time you cried during sex, and how his reaction was practically the same, except this time, it's received with a grateful welcome home. "Fuck, baby- I love when you cry like a lil' cocksleeve over ma' dick"

Despite the lewd words, he's wiping your tears away with his thumb in a soft gentle touch.

"S'okay, baby" he coos, kissing up your throat and onto your chin. Then, you feel a wet sensation on your cheek: but it isn't the tears, yet his tongue, licking the hot stream. "I'll give ya' ma' cock if you want it so much. Now quit your cryin', yeah?"

But you keep sniffling, impossible to close the dam once it's broken.

"My sweet crybaby" Joel mumbles, "I love ya', doll"

"I love you too" each time you said it, a new flower blooming in your heart. It could be. "I do, Joel"

He smiles, the kind of smile that is painful to watch. The kind that says: Is this real? Do I deserve this?

"Y'know I'm bad with words, so lemme show you instead"

He's climbing on top of you as you push yourself into the middle of the bed, lips tangled into a demanding kiss, his tongue dominating your mouth like he wants to tame it. He drops his underwear again, but he's still wearing the goddamn shirt. You whine, and for a second, while over you, he stops.

"What is it, baby?" Joel pants.

"T-take it off" you huff, worked up. You let the tie loose first, starting to unbutton his shirt after. "I want to see you, Joel"

His hand is quick to fly and stop you from taking it off. Even in the dim lit room, you can see the faintest of a blush covering his cheeks.

"Sweetheart..." he mumbles, "I dunno-"

"Please" trying to remove his hand.

"You really wanna?" but behind his teasing smile there's both a hopeful and vulnerable glint to his voice.

You extend your hand, cupping his cheek. He leans into the touch, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist, and it's just you, your ragged breaths and the light tickle of his growing beard on your palm.

It could be.

"Because I love you" holding his gaze firmly. "All of you"

"Fuck, baby" Joel starts to get off the shirt, "ya' really made those fuckers downstairs drop their damn mouths when ya' walked in with me. Couldn't believe it, such'a pretty girl could be mine" he snarls, grabbing your face by the chin. "Hell, I'ont believe it either. That you could wanna be with me"

But then you're touching his now naked form before you, fingers slowly tracing through his face to his tense jawline. Then across his broad shoulders to his tummy, feeling the soft swell against your stomach as he leans over your eager form. It's the way you look at him, as if he's the most beautiful man in the world, that makes his breath catch on his throat, staggering.

Your sweet broken voice rings in his head.

It isn't just you. I feel this too.

(Scared. Confused. Happy. Grieving. Loving)

It should be his ego boosted and cock stroked, but when his eyes find yours, it's his heart that feels the fullest.

Fuck, he was too old for this shit.

"Look at 'cha, making lame ol' me a sappy motherfucker" he laughs, the same blush from earlier now more prominent. He leans down to kiss you, his moustache brushing your lips. "If ya' don't stop, I'll take ya' right now and we're gettin' married tonight by summ random Elvis guy"

"What If I wanted that?" you challenge as your mouth presses fluttering kisses to his caging arm, lips stopping on each spot and mole peppered through his thick bicep.

"Then get dressed" you feel him squirm under your insistent lips, "'cause I ain't gettin' married again while naked"

"Where you married, Joel?" you can feel the salt air up your nose of the first night again, asking the same questions. The fact that he's opening to you warms your chest in a pleasant way.

He looks at you absentmindedly, humming as to confirm.

"We were too damn young. Had to, for the baby on the way" he tells. You remember Sarah's aversion to the topic, and given his next words, it makes sense. "Then she left"

I would never leave.

"I'm sorry" you offer instead.

"Don't" the atmosphere is quick to change again as thise words leave his mouth. "Now, where were we?"

You're quick to spread your legs to him, gilstening cunt on full view.

"Good girl" he smirks, lining himself with your warm entrance. "If ya' keep behavin', I might give ya' my cum"

His tip against your clit for a few seconds before pushing down against your hole. Joel groans as his length sinks in your gummy walls, feeling the tightness from before.

"You feel s'good" grunting as he slowly pushes in, letting you adjust to his girth. "Always do" 

He presses a gentle kiss to your sweaty hairline. 

"Tell me how it feels"

"Good" you mewl. "Big"

"Ain't that right" he chuckles.

"Need it all. Please" and you grip his neck tightly, arms around it. His nose brushes against yours as he grunts out a You little minx. "Want it, Joel. I can take it"

He bottoms out. "Then do"

"Fuck" you curse, cunt stretched to adapt to his girth. You breath in painfully, and Joel's eyes lace with concern. "I-It's fine"

"Sure? I can wait"

"I’m okay" you assure him, moved by his care for you. You buck your hips. "You can move"

He starts by setting a slow pace, taking all the space insade your clutching heat. Joel groans at the sensation, your walls gripping him like a vice as he continues to move in a slow motion, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes. Yet, as his arms cage you by your sides and you look at him with certainty, he picks up a brutal pace, just as you like it, slamming into you over and over again, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the small bathroom.

"K-keep going" you grip his left arm. Joel lets out a hiss as your nails dig on his skin. "Feels so good"

"Good'nough for you to cum on m'dick?" he groans huskily in your ear, breath ghosting on your skin like a hot kiss. "Gonna fill you up, doll. I'll mark you as mine, now and for da' rest of y'r life"

The way his voice drips with dominance as he commands you, filled with a rough rich baritone tinted with a possesive hunger, his hips moving faster as he drives into you with force, pistoning harder is enough to set you on edge.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss. 

"Cum f'me, baby. Let me hear ya' cryin' over my cock"

Tears. Stars. Grunts. Moans. Cum.

Your cry for his name against his lips is how you announce your orgasm, washing over you. Your walls flutter as Joel lets you ride slowly through your climax.

"There ya' go, baby. Go on, ride it" then, he pauses. His face strains. "Hold on tight. I'm gonna- I'm gonna cum. Right there, baby. Stay"

Somewhere along the moans and the writhes of your soft skin against his hard planes and soft belly, Joel asks where you want it. Inside, you hear yourself say, eager to feel all of him again, filling your insides, invading every inch of your body until a part of himself leaks into your heart. He's then blabbering as your walls and heart flutter, about kids and other things you both want but can't have. Tonight, though, as he Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he starts to come, grinding against you, making sure you feel every last spurt, every last bit of his release, you allow yourself to believe.

He pumps some shallows thrusts inside of your slick dripping cunt, emptying himself, before pulling out and looking down at you with a tired smile.

"I love you" he says again in fervent whisper, as if by repeating it, he could materialize it. "I love you so fucking much, y/n. And if ya' can't accept that, can't believe in that, then... then I'ont know what the fuck I'm gonna do. 'Cause I can't lose ya', baby. I can't"

"You won't" you don't know why it comes so easy, or why the promise slips as natural as a breath. "I'm here, Joel Miller. You won't lose me"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs

[sturnioz]

☆. . . CHRIS IS YOUR NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOUR that you're been friends with for years that suddenly got hot over the summer, and now you can't stop thinking about him in such intoxicating ways.

you hung out almost every single day, and you could confidently and proudly say that he is your best friend, but when summer got too busy to the point you were both unable to see each other, you didn't hang out at all.

the first time you see chris again is when summer is almost over and he's standing in his garden, shirtless, holding a soda in hand and standing next to his brothers who are grilling meat for their bbq.

the first time chris notices you is when you emerge from your house in the most tiniest shorts to accompany your family who were relaxing in the garden. admitting, chris was staring at your thighs and ass the entire time, wondering when the fuck you had that glow up.

he has always found you cute and adorable, but now? you're hot—fucking drool worthy.

your mother notices him looking over and is the first to initiate the conversation, beckoning him over to ask all types of questions on how he's been. she even compliments his appearance, calling him handsome and grown which makes you embarrassed at her forward behaviour, but this helps start up yours and chris' first conversation for the last remaining week of summer.

you're back to hanging out and talking every day again, sitting in his garden under the blazing sun in your most tight fitted bikinis which chris starts to notice, but he doesn't comment on it. instead, he wears his own tight fitted swim shorts, flexing his thighs whenever he sits down beside you—his knee always touching yours.

you both get a little tipsy after the beers are brought into the mix, and this is where the honesty rolls off your tongue with no hesitations. you tell him how you don't want to be a virgin anymore, and that going to college with no sexual experience makes you sound lame (although, it really doesn't. you just suffer with bad fomo when hearing your friends talk about their hookup stories).

chris just stares at you with his lips curled upwards, nodding slowly and humming along to all the things you blurt out to him, and then he says it.

the way he so casually offers to take your virginity almost makes you choke, but you keep as calm and collected as you possibly can, simply nodding your head and laughing it off.

you thought chris would've dropped it after that, or maybe laughed along with you and told you that he was joking, but what you didn't expect was for chris to take your hand in his to pull you up from the chairs in his garden to tug you inside of his empty house, immediately pulling you onto his lap the second he drops down onto the couch.

he leans back quite smugly against the cushions, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he moves your bikini bottoms to one side and circles his fingers around your entrance with the other.

chris is anything but kind to you for your first time—of course he makes sure that you are wet enough and enjoying yourself, but he wants to make you cum at least twice on his fingers before he even thinks about shoving his cock inside you.

he makes you do that yourself too, gesturing you to wrap your hand around his cock and ease it in between your puffy and wet folds, to slide down on him at your own pace as he captures your lips, swallowing the sounds of your whines and moans as he helps you ride him, making sure to give you the most mind blowing experience for you to share with your friends this time.

© STURNIOZ

[didyoulookforme]

think i'll stay

you come back from holiday and things between you and matty are a bit different.

warning: some angst (with kind of a happy ending). teenagers dating. grammatical errors, typos.

part of the bf matty au. masterlist here.

-----

the summer you leave feels a whole lot longer than only three weeks.

sure, it is just time away with family, which you enjoy for the most part. you spend hours on the beach, slathered in sunscreen so you can actually sleep at night. you eat way too much ice cream before it melts all over your legs. you even read the paperback you brought from home. but you always end up getting distracted by your phone, sending matty text after text, telling him every single possible thing that has happened since you left. you send him an endless collection of blurry ocean photos and a few of yourself, making sure to show enough of your bathing suit but not so much that it is considered indecent.

it is hard not to count down the days until you are back. you miss him. and perhaps the reason why you text him so much is that he’s not been as responsive lately. your phone usually pings within minutes of hitting “send,” but now there are occasions when he does not answer until the following day. and even then, some of the replies are short and not his usual monologues that barely make sense until you read them out loud for the tenth time. you tell yourself you are overreacting. after all, it is summer. he is probably just busy with the boys, holed up in the garage writing who-knows-how-many songs until either they pass out from exhaustion or from drinking too much.

yes, it is summer. you try to convince yourself it is only that.

—

then the day finally comes. you make it back home on a thursday evening, dashing and tripping up the stairs so you can immediately drop off your bags of dirty laundry, because dealing with that is a future-you problem. present-day you needs to see matty. like, right this second, so you dash out the door. you do not bother texting, do not even think about calling. you are just hoping, praying, he is home. after four or five minutes of sprinting as fast as your legs can move, lungs burning and heart pounding, you finally reach his doorstep and knock, trying to gulp in enough oxygen to replenish your bloodstream.

please be home, please be home, please be home…

you hear those familiar footsteps on the other side, and when the door swings open, you practically trample him, arms shooting out to wrap around his neck before he even gets a chance to say hello.

“easy there.” matty laughs, a little off balance as you cling to him. “missed you too, loser.”

you pull back just enough to shove him lightly in retaliation. “do not call me that. i ran all the way here just to see your stupid face.” but you cannot stop grinning, leaning forward to embrace him once again because he is finally here. right in front of you. he smells like shampoo and cigarettes and you would be lying if you said it is not the best thing you have smelled in weeks. then you remember why you are so excited to come see him.

you quickly let go once more, rummaging through the crumpled receipts and loose lipsticks in your bag until you find a small box wrapped with entirely too much tape. “here, got you something.” and you basically shove the present in his hands, stepping back again so you can watch him open it because you know he will love it.

but that is when you notice it. the orange-reddish color adorning his fingernails. the perfect contrast against the blue paper you used to decorate the tiny gift. the polish is on way too neatly for him to have done it himself. and you do not even own that shade, so it could’ve never been you. plus you were gone for most of the month. you gaze from his nails to his face and down to his hands again. perhaps it was his mum. even a cousin. or maybe—

“um… i have something to tell you.”

and it is then you know exactly why he has not been replying to your texts at 3 a.m. anymore.

turns out he met a girl while you were away. emily. he took her out on a date, and apparently now they are… something. a couple, maybe. he does not use official terms, but from the way he is talking and smiling when he brings her up, you sense it is serious enough.

all you can do is stare at his fingers because your heart is jackhammering in your chest and not from running this time. it is you who started painting his nails. that one day he met you at the park after he finished rehearsal. you were applying the second coat of your own when he arrived and you annoyed him enough to let you paint his for the first time. and you’ve done it ever since. it is your thing and you love it. until now.

his voice brings you back from inside your thoughts. “she’s here, actually. upstairs. we’re just hanging out, listening to some demos.” he nods toward the staircase. “want to come up? she’s super excited to meet you. i’ve told her all about you.” he rubs the back of his neck. “i mean, if you want.”

you realize you are already stepping back, your feet instinctively carrying you toward the doorway. “i, uh… it is okay. ’s late, and i have not even unpacked. i just wanted to drop… this off.” you gesture lamely at the rectangle in his hands. “i should probably, y’know, go shower. and clean my room. and stuff.”

matty’s face falls just slightly, but he tries to mask it with an awkward nod. “right. yeah, that makes sense. you literally just got back. we can, like… talk later. right?”

“later. yeah.” you force a smile that feels all sorts of wrong on your lips. “text me, okay?”

“i will.”

“alright, so…” you glance around half-hoping you will think of some brilliant excuse to stay. but your mind has gone blank. “i’ll talk to you later, matty.”

“later,” he echoes.

then you turn and practically jog down his driveway, gripping the strap of your bag so hard your fingers turn white and ache. your head buzzes with a million thoughts, most of them revolving around how stupid you feel. you missed him so much. but apparently he didn’t miss you as much as you’d hoped.

you eventually do make it home with not one single bone in your body having the intention to clean. instead, you slam your door shut and flop face down on the bed. you can still smell the ocean in your hair. it lingers on your shirt, in the faint saltiness of your skin. it reminds you of the necklace you bought him at the beach stand. nothing fancy really, just a circular white pendant on a strip of dark brown suede. something you picked up on a whim because it instantly reminded you of one he loved during a day trip to london. and it is probably now sitting unopened on his bedside table as he does god-knows-what with his girlfriend.

but to be fair, he texts like he said he would.

hey. thanks for the gift. it’s amazing. i’m wearing it rn. i missed you xx

and for a few hours, it is almost the same as it used to be. banter, memes, him complaining about the heat in george’s garage. but the days that follow? not so much. sometimes he replies. sometimes a day or two passes before you see a new message pop up. and it stings every single time, way more than you would like to admit. you are happy for him, right? he deserves to be happy. it is just that the “happy” you imagined was always the two of you, side by side, best friends and all. you’d hoped to spend most of the summer nights hanging out until the early hours of the morning, listening to him ramble on about music he’d just downloaded.

now often when you go to see the boys at rehearsal, he does not show up until later, with emily of course. she sits on the amp that used to be your spot. the one beside matty, covered with stickers you placed there yourself. she laughs at his dumb jokes, hugs him when he takes a break, and you cannot bring yourself to be mad at her because she is perfectly nice. that is the cruelest part: emily is wonderful. she is funny, caring, bright, and she likes you. or at least says she does. so there is really no reason for you to hate her, other than stealing your friend...

you are actually glad when school starts back up. it means you are able to keep your mind busy with homework and studying, and as lame as it sounds, you welcome it. matty is still in some of your classes, and if it is just the two of you, things feel mostly the same. all until she comes around again. not that he behaves differently. he is still matty. yes, you speak less and do not hang out as much, but he is still the sweet, shy, sassy boy who makes you laugh until you sob. but now it is not just you. there is someone else he also makes laugh until she cries, only she is able to run her fingers through his hair and hug him as she pleases. and well, you just cannot.

weeks go by and you begin to enjoy her company even if you weren’t seeking it. you guess in the end you’d rather have her around than not have matty at all. most of the time it is harmless. having lunch or hanging out at someone’s house. but it is always when they leave together that it hurts the most because it means you won’t hear from him for a while. you’ve kept it hidden, how sad it still makes you. don’t tell anyone. not until one evening when ross catches you wiping your eyes after their rehearsal.

“you okay?”

you just shrug your shoulders and slightly nod. but you don’t even realize more tears are falling down your cheeks until he pulls you in for a hug, letting you bury your face in his shirt as he keeps you close and rubs slow circles on your back.

that night he’s the one who stays over just as matty would, keeping you company until you doze off and hope you can stay asleep until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

—

the buzzing beside your head wakes you up.

hey can u meet at the park?

it’s 8:14 a.m. and last you checked, matty doesn’t do mornings. at least not on saturdays.

a little too early for you to be alive you okay?

he replies immediately. probably the fastest he’s texted you back in months.

please

and that’s all it takes. you drag yourself out of bed, throw on last night’s clothes, and leave the house with your keys in one hand, your phone in the other.

k. be there in 20.

somewhere between dodging morning joggers and yawning yourself awake, you realize you never even glanced at the mirror. you catch your reflection in a parked car’s window, mascara smudged in a dark crescent under each eye. great. you lick your thumb, scrub at the mess until it’s mostly gone. close enough. and you keep going, legs on autopilot as you head for the same picnic bench where you and matty have wasted countless afternoons, paint peeling from its surface and made only worse by his habit of chipping at it while you talk his ear off. something tells you that won’t be the case this morning, though.

you spot matty from a distance, perched on top of the table, feet planted on the bench seat. his hood is up and you know for a fact he’s staring down as his converse tap on the wooden slats. he only looks up the moment your shadow stretches across the lawn.

his face. he’s exhausted. a weight in his eyes you’ve never seen before. it makes your blood run cold because you cannot think of a single day in the past couple of years when you’ve actually seen him sad. you didn’t think it was possible. but guess you were wrong.

you step up onto the bench and settle beside him, close enough that your sides touch. he doesn’t move away. if anything, you swear he leans in just a little. he finally tugs out his headphones and turns around to glance at you. and all you can do is bite your lip because, what do you even say here? is something up with the band? did you do something?

neither of you says a word. the hush is almost claustrophobic, so many questions piling in your mind but refusing to come out.

“i broke up with her yesterday,” his voice is so quiet, “feel like a total dick, to be honest.”

oh.

“i… are you okay?” the swirl of emotions starts to make you lightheaded. sympathy, confusion, relief that’s so shameful you bury it quickly. your teeth are still sunk into your lip, only noticing because his eyes flick down to your mouth for a fraction of a second before dropping to his hands, where he begins tugging at the edges of his fingers.

“i dunno. it stopped feeling right. she’s great, you know? she’s cool, funny, very pretty—” he stops to glance at you with a nervous twitch on his mouth. “sorry. i know that’s weird to say.”

you shake your head. “no, it’s okay. i get it.”

he doesn’t speak for a few seconds, maybe searching for the right words until he seems to give up. he says he knows it sounds dumb, but he misses his friends, giving you a sad, apologetic look meaning he missed you. he confesses it was fun at first, he really liked her a lot, but one day, kissing her didn’t feel the same. and when she wanted to have sex again, he didn’t want to anymore. your eyebrows shoot up. he’s never outright said he wasn’t a virgin anymore. part of you suspected it (he’s matty, after all) but hearing it confirmed still surprises you. he notices your look and points, half-heartedly rolling his eyes as if to say, don’t even start, so you raise your hands in surrender. you can ask questions later. right now, he needs to talk, and for once, it’s him spilling all his tangled feelings while you just listen.

he exhales heavily. the words keep coming as though he’s been desperate for someone to just listen. he goes off about how guilty he feels, how he worries she’s going to hate him, how maybe he should’ve tried harder. this might be the longest he’s ever talked uninterrupted and it honestly warms you from the inside out. perhaps not the best circumstances, but you can’t ignore the way your heart beats a little faster, knowing you’re here for him in a way you haven’t been in a while. and by the time he’s done, you can’t figure out what to say. he gives you this tight-lipped, exhausted smile that you mirror on instinct, then drops his head down again, picking at his fingernails, slowly continuing to tear them to shreds.

your voice seems to be trapped somewhere in your throat, so all you can do is wrap your arm around his shoulders and hold his hand with the other so he doesn’t make himself bleed. he’s warm and smells faintly of the same shampoo and cigarettes. the kind of comfort you’ve been missing since last summer and something in your chest squeezes painfully at the familiarity of it. you lean in close enough to rest your chin on his shoulder, your forehead against his temple just as he intertwines his fingers with yours and holds them impossibly tight.

“it’s okay, matty.”

he closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. “promise?”

“of course.”

he lets out a shaky breath and slowly melts into you, the tension in his shoulders loosening as the minutes pass. another wave of guilt rushes through you at how good it feels to be this close to him again. you glance down at his hand in yours, noticing how his thumb rubs tiny circles against your skin, sending little jolts of warmth through your veins. a sign you might need to put some space between you before you do something you regret. so slowly you pull away to find your bag, searching through its contents until you find a tiny bottle which you shake in front of his face. you settle down on the bench and gesture for him to place his hand on the table in front of you.

he lifts an eyebrow but does as you ask. “it’s not black?”

“not this time,” you twist open the bottle, “figured we could try something new.”

he responds with a grunt but there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. so you begin painting, gliding the tiny brush carefully across each nail. you concentrate on smoothing the colour in even stripes, wiping stray bits with your thumb, letting the mundane act of painting nails distract you from the swirl of emotions happening inside you.

“so,” you begin quietly, still focused on the polish, “what’s that new song you’re working on? ross said it’s coming along okay?”

“yeah, guess so.” out of the corner of your eye, you notice his other hand starting to tap on his knee, probably drumming along to the beat of that same track. “though george is being an idiot and won’t listen about this one fill… even though he knows ’m right. stupid prick.” this time you bite your lip to hold back your laugh.

“g being stubborn? shocker.”

you listen as he tells you not only about this demo, but several others they’ve been working on, diving into so much detail that honestly goes over your head. but you don’t mind if it gets him distracted. you just try to pretend you know what you’re talking about by responding with half-baked music terms you think you’ve heard him say before.

“there. that one’s good to go.” you pull back to admire your handiwork before looking at him. he brings his fingers close to his face to inspect them, and now you actually laugh as he starts to gently blow on them, just as you’d taught him a year or so ago: remember when you were little and had a super nintendo and the cartridges wouldn’t play so you would blow on them? do just that. but not too hard that you spit and ruin the polish.

before you even have to ask, matty places his other palm flat on his thigh, giving you permission to continue on with the second hand, careful not to get any paint on his jeans because you can practically feel the warmth of his body radiating through the denim.

once you finish up his pinky, you cap the bottle and tuck it away. you cradle the bag against your chest, crossing your arms atop to rest your chin there, gazing up at him. you notice as he stares up at the sky, wondering what’s going on in his mind right at this second because he seems a bit calmer. a bit more like himself. the boy who’s still your best friend, the one you’d do pretty much anything for. even if it means stumbling into the park at a ridiculous hour with makeup smudged halfway down your cheeks. a reminder of how exhausted you are. your eyes slip shut for what feels like half a second only to be startled by the sound of him rummaging through his hoodie.

“matthew, seriously?” you yank his hand from his pocket. “they’re probably still wet.”

he mumbles a low “my bad,” not sounding sorry at all, noticing the soft smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips. then your eyes land on the rectangular outline within the fabric, so you shuffle closer and reach in yourself.

“uh… what are you doing?”

ignoring him, you fish out a battered pack of cigarettes. you slip one between your lips, digging in your bag for the lighter you keep on hand. just in case. by the time you spark the flame and take a quick drag, matty’s eyebrows have shot up halfway up his forehead, staring as if you’ve been replaced by someone else.

“wait. so you smoke now?”

you hand over the cigarette, wrinkling your nose and shaking your head. “not really. not these, anyway.”

matty gives you an all too knowing glance, a hint of a crooked smile forming as he inhales. “ross got you into weed, didn't he?”

you shrug then nod because it’s true. you’ve been getting high with ross ever so often. and you’ve found out you really don’t mind it.

“i leave you alone for one summer and suddenly you’re out here getting stoned in my mate's basement. good to know.”

“shut up,” you say, rolling your eyes even as you can’t help but grin. “it was longer than a summer, by the way. and it’s not like i do it every day.”

he actually laughs. “yeah, well. this i can’t wait to see.”

“whatever,” you mutter back without any bite in your voice. he offers the cigarette but you wave it off, already certain you'd hack up a lung and a half at this hour.

you settle back against your bag, chin propped on top, picking absently at a bit of chipped paint on the table and watch in silence as he exhales smoke into the air. every now and then, you notice him extending his hand to look at his nails, cigarette tucked between his index and middle fingers.

“you like it?”

he nods. “yeah. it’s nice. it’s pretty. different, but cool.” he smiles down while thanking you, absentmindedly placing his palm besides your own, the sparkly electric blue colour on his fingers perfectly matching yours.

[jelzorz]

208b.

With thanks to @blutopaz15 and @zuppizup for indulging me 😅

The castle is quiet these days. Rayla honestly kind of misses the chaos of its heyday: the adventures, the danger, the running for their lives... Those days feel like a lifetime ago, and they were, in a way. Things were different then, and it's probably for the better that everything is so nice now, but still.

She suppose that's why she turns to books. The castle library isn't just filled with old tomes— there are novels here too, by both humans and elves, and there's quite a collection now that Rayla is free to borrow from as she pleases. The stories themselves are fantastic and two-fisted and magical, and it's nice to reminisce of her own adventures sometimes, nice to imagine herself in the place of the heroine, even if it does feel ridiculous and childish at times.

Then there are the... saucier tales that she stumbles across, and it was stupid and funny at first, but now she finds herself reading them quite regularly. Who doesn't like a little scandal sometimes? A little spice? And Callum doesn't complain because, well. There are certain perks for him too.

It's not something she advertises nonetheless.

Anyway, that's why she's in the library today, and very specifically in the section that contains some of the... darker romances of the castle's collection. She's tossing up between the two books in her hands, the first about a deadly school for dragon riders, the second about a romance between some creature called a fae and a human girl with enough issues to make Rayla's own look rather tame, when Soren, of all people, catches her in the act.

Rayla flushes but stands her ground, refusing to feel even a little bit ashamed of the books in her hand, but Soren only tilts his head to read the titles.

"Interesting choices," he says mildly.

Rayla sets her jaw. "And?"

Soren shrugs. "That one's the fifth book in a series," he says, nodding at the book about fae. "The first one is a bit eh, but the second and third are great. I'd recommend reading those first."

Rayla stares at him. "You've read these?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I can, in fact, read," he says snootily. "The other one's okay but less compelling, y'know? But ultimately, it's up to you."

Rayla stares some more. Then she glances up and down the aisle to make sure no one else is around and puts both books back on the shelf. "Where are the others in the series?"

"If they're not there, someone must have them out," says Soren, "although I can check returns for you if you want. And if they're not back before you leave, I can send them out to you."

Rayla snaps her jaw shut because apparently this conversation is real, and not only is Soren not making fun of her for it, he's also offering to help. He's mellowed out a lot since his youth, but this is still... not his style. "I didn't think you were into this kind of thing," she says at last.

"I didn't think you were either, but here we are," he snorts. "But if you really want to know, they were recommended by a mutual friend. Happy reading." He winks at her like it's some sort of clue and takes his leave, leaving Rayla staring stupidly after him in the stacks.

The books in question arrive in the Silvergrove two weeks later with a letter written in familiar handwriting that is definitely not Soren's.

My apologies, it reads, I hadn't realised I never returned them. Let me know what you think.

It's not signed, but Rayla lets out a laugh when she reads it because there's only one other person it could be from, and she had never seemed like the type to enjoy these either.

Rayla chuckles and pockets the letter, making a note to send one back when she's done.

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Redacted Mate Headcannons 🎉

Sam and Baabe play boardgames together (their favorites chess)

Angel helps Sweetheart scare Milo whenever they all hang out

Baabe and Angel have lunch once or twice a week. I'm not sure if it's cannon that Angel works a corporate job. I'd have to go back and listen to all the audios again to check. I like to think though, that at least part time, they do tattooing or some other kind of art on the side. On the days that they have time, they meet up and talk with each other over food.

Sweetheart and Sam are siblings ( this one is inspired by @redactahoe and their incredible art and headcanons for Sweetheart i highly recommend going and checking their stuff out )

Sam and Sweetheart also regularly go out for meals together, just the two of them and with their mates.

Sweetheart and Baabe spar and wrestle together. I think Baabe has had professional training as a boxer and a little jiu-jutsu. I know D.U.M.P is a magical institution, but it's still essentially police work, so I imagine almost all of the detectives and officers need some kind of combat training. They work out together to keep both their skills sharp.

Sam has been trying to teach Angel to cook more homemade meals.

During the first solstice they met at, Angel and Sam bonded over the fact that they are both interested in medicine. (I've seen a couple posts in passing about medic/nurse Angel most recently from @piltie-paradigm and @jasmine-loves-writing but if anyone else has nurse Angel stuff please let me know and I will tag yall too because it's a great headcannon)

Angel as a nurse (I'm pretty sure traveling/freelance nurses are a thing right? Cause that's what I imagine Angel doing. They don't have one hospital they work at. They bounce between hospitals in Dahlia and Ferris, resulting in fairly frequent work trips. Never more than a week though.) is insanely good with patients, specifically teenagers, because they know what it's like to be freaked out in a hospital while waiting for care. They make sure every patient gets the attention they deserve

Sam tries to check on Sweetheart at least once a day

The average conversation between Sam and Sweetheart is "I wonder what would happen if-" "stop wondering you're going to get yourself arrested. Or worse hurt and ill have to deal with it"

Baabe collects things. They have almost as much stuff as Ash, except for majority of it is much smaller trinkets and bobbles. Their favorite thing they have is a jar of soda can tabs/bottle caps that Asher gives them every time he has one in exchange for a kiss. (There's multiple jars)

All of the mates know how to ride a motorcycle. Only Baabe does it regularly, they love their bike and treat it better than Asher (according to Asher at least but he's dramatic)

Angel and Baabe play poker and pool and both know how to hustle (baabe is better at poker, Angel is better at pool) neither can beat Sam. Sam is the only person that can beat the both of them, David, and Milo at both games.

Sam likes spending time with the other mates. It reminds him of what it's like to be human. All the little things that they do. The way Angel rambles and has to pause to catch their breath or recollect their thoughts. The way Baabes breath slows down when they're really thinking about something, and the way they crack their knuckles once they have a solution. The way Sweethearts eyes and nose crinkle when they laugh. It reminds him of all the things he doesn't (cant) do anymore

Sam still has an old 1960s Harley leather jacket in pristine condition that was the last thing his grandmother gave him. It still fits too, because she bought it knowing her boy was going to get out and become as strong on the outside as he was inside (he and sweetheart were very malnourished when they lived in Mont Blanc due to circumstances with their family. Their grandma was worried it might end up stunting their growth, but they both turned out like beanpoles, just skinny till they moved away and found some structure)

Baabe has a hard time reading people's emotions, so they try to be very specific with how they speak so that things don't get taken the wrong way. They also have a fairly monotone voice, and flat expression most of the time, which is why people at their job and in public think they're intimidating. However once you've gotten to know them, and you find a topic they're interested in. They can talk more than Angel and Sweetheart

Baabe has a daily routine, and deviating from it unexpectedly can be distressing sometimes, but once the routine has deviated, they're pretty good at factoring it in. Also, they hate showing that they don't understand something, so they do obscene amounts of research on a wide variety of subjects. Whenever friends talk about new things, they pay insane attention and ask questions because they want to know why their friend enjoys the thing.

Baabe has also started trying to do something outside of their routine at least 3 times a week. Hiking is their go-to, but adding in an extra ride on their bike is also good

Sam and Baabe when they're hanging out are either quiet 90% of the time, or they do not shut up. These two together can be professional yappers /pos.

When Sweetheart first met the pack, they were terrified. Surprisingly, it wasn't Milo that reeled them in though, it was Gabe. He asked them to come into his office because he wanted to know the person his sons best friend brought home. (Pack dens like a second home for every pack member. it's not insignificant in size big enough for every pack member to fit and then some. Multiple stories.)

When Gabe asked them to come speak with him, he saw the way their behavior changed from anxious but polite to professional and clean. He thought it was amusing, but he understood why they did it. He was the alpha, after all. Once they were in the office though, he explained he just wanted to know them a little better, and told them he was proud of Milo for choosing a person like them. They still think of that moment a lot, it was the first time they truly felt welcomed somewhere.

Angel collects stickers, pins, and patches to give to the patients they work with. Occasionally, when they're tattooing, they give trinkets to clients who want them or ask about them.

Angel also collects gothic poetry and artwork for no reason other than it fascinates them

[marcelloshdz]

anniversary

summary: when marcello gets sick the weekend of your anniversary, your plans quickly change. requested by anonymous.

it was the early hours of sunday morning, and you and marcello were just getting home from the snl after party. these nights always went well into the morning, but you could tell something was up with marcello once he suggested to head home earlier than usual.

"are you sure you're okay? you look more tired than you normally do after show nights." you asked him once you finally got home.

"my head hurts a little bit. but other than that, i'm okay." he said with a shrug. you both fell into bed, quickly falling asleep.

the next couple of days were busy for you, as you were planning for yours and marcello's anniversary. you were celebrating three years together, and you wanted to make sure everything was perfect. you set reservations at your favorite restaurant and made sure you got him the perfect gift. luckily, snl was off this week, so you could set your plans for saturday evening without problem. 

unfortunately, those plans quickly changed over the course of the week.

the headache that marcello had sunday morning quickly turned into a cold over the course of the week. he had a fever, was barely eating, and was coughing and sneezing so much that he couldn't get a full night's sleep. you weren't sleeping well either, as you'd been sleeping in the guest room, in case marcello was contagious. you hated sleeping alone, especially knowing that marcello was in the house but you couldn't be with him.

you'd felt bad because you still had to work and couldn't stay home to help take care of him. but every morning, you made sure he had all the medicine and other things he may have needed throughout the day. 

once the weekend finally rolled around, marcello was feeling exponentially worse. you knew with how he was feeling, your weekend plans were nowhere near close to happening.

"i feel so bad that we have to cancel our reservations." marcello sighed, pouting as you sat with him on the couch.

"you don't have to feel bad. you getting sick was not anything that you could've controlled." you said, rubbing his back. 

you sat on the couch for a while, the tv playing all of his favorite movies as he slept on and off for most of the afternoon and into the evening. 

during one of his naps that afternoon, you drove to the restaurant you were supposed to have dinner at, and picked up your meals to have dinner at home. you returned home just in time as marcello had just woken up and was starting to get hungry again. 

you set your food out on the coffee table, and you and marcello ate on the couch.

"man, i hate being sick. i know how good this food is, but i can't even taste it." he whined. 

"oh, man. i didn't even think about that. i'm sorry." you laughed. 

once you finished your food, you watched as marcello slowly walked into your bedroom. he came out with a small gift box.

"i know things are different this year, but it still is our anniversary." marcello said, handing you the gift box. you flipped it open, eyes landing on the most beautiful diamond necklace you'd ever seen.

"oh my gosh! this is beautiful. thank you baby." you said with a smile, taking the necklace and clasping it around your neck. "i have something for you too." 

you walked into your bedroom and pulled out the gift box you had hiding in your closet for marcello. you watched as he opened the bag, pulling out a new hat. you got him a new one to add to his collection, the dominican and cuban flags stitched on one side, and his initials stitched on the other.

"y/n! this is so nice!" he said, placing it on his head. 

"perfect." you said with a smile.

"i love it, thank you." he said, smiling at you. his smile quickly faded, a small pout pulling on his lips. 

"whats wrong?" 

"i wanna kiss you, but i don't wanna get you sick."

"i'm willing to take the risk." you laughed, pulling marcello into your arms. you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, him pulling away and smiling up at you.

"i love you so much, y/n. happy anniversary."

"happy anniversary, baby." you said softly, kissing him again.

although your anniversary was much different than your last ones, it was still just as special. you loved getting to spend time with marcello, no matter what way.

[scorpioriesling]

How You Get The Girl

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: Bodhi x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Bodhi had never been bad at anything -- being a rider, leading a squad, or with the ladies, either. However, you are his biggest challenge yet, as you manage to explain away every single one of his romantic advances.

SR’s Note: This is part two to Blank Space! How are we feeling? Do we want more? I sure do -- stay tuned! <3

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @freakishfandomfiend @paintedbyshadows @poeticbookwormcat @lreadsstuff (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You'd woken up bright and early that Monday morning, determined to get to the library before class was set to begin. The entire rest of the weekend, you'd been sleeping off Friday night's events and aiming to avoid any public place that you might run into Bodhi -- or, Aaric, for that matter.

Aaric is cute, but Bodhi was interested first; whatever you do, just remember what I said about getting too attached.

Jesinia's warning rang loud and clear through your mind. You kept replaying it, over and over as you had the events of Friday night. When asked her opinion over the weekend, it seemed all she was able to provide you was... well, more worry over the situation.

Even after a week of no-contact, you still found yourself thinking about it during school hours.

"Y/N, I'll expect these transcribed over the next three days," Markham said sternly. You nodded in understanding.

"On my desk Thursday, please. Oh -- will you be joining me for Battle Brief tomorrow morning?" His question came with a raised eyebrow. You knew what that meant; the option was there, but there was only one right answer.

"Absolutely," you said without hesitation. "I'll be in the grand hall at nine."

He nodded in approval, moving on to the next row of tables to check in with your fellow yearmates. Jesinia had left early today, opting to run an errand for him in lieu of not attending Battle Brief in the morning. She'd told you once that she didn't enjoy signing in front of crowds much, which you could understand; but you figured she'd want to go so she would be able to see her boyfriend, nonetheless.

As the mid-afternoon bell rang, you collected your things. You felt as though you hadn't gotten much of anything done today, your head clogged with the million potential outcomes from what happened Friday night.

The warm sun was a welcome relief to the cool temperatures inside of the library, and you basked in it as you walked toward the outdoor cafe on campus. These texts weren't going to translate themselves, and if you were going to have them done by Thursday, you needed to get started.

By the time you were on the third page, however, you'd attracted a visitor.

"H-hey, Y/N."

Your eyes immediately left the page, favoring their gaze on the green ones staring back at you. The scrape of metal on stone was loud as Aaric pulled out a metal chair from beneath the table, opting to join you.

"Oh, hi! Aaric," you said, the nervous energy making an appearance once more. He grinned at you, scooting close enough that you were practically sharing breath.

"So... what are you working on?" He asked, and you sighed as you motioned to the array of papers around you.

"Well, Markham has given me the near-impossible task of translating all of this by Thursday," you laughed nervously. "So, I figured I may as well get started on it now."

His brow furrowed.

"All this work, due by Thursday," he sucked in a long breath, stretching his arms behind his head. "Seems a bit overkill, if you ask me."

You smiled awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Yeah... well... he is my professor, so."

He nodded slowly, gazing sidelong at you. He only broke the silence after a few long beats.

"Sucks, you know -- I was gonna see if you wanted to do something tonight," the left corner of his mouth tilted up. Your brows rose, and another nervous laugh bubbled out of your mouth.

"Oh! Ha ha, yeah, uh... I mean, I'd love to, but... I mean, I have all of this to get done," you explained, your cheeks reddening as you considered the situation. "Maybe Friday? I'll have all this done by then, surely."

Aaric smiled, full and bright -- it was no wonder he was related to the royal family. He looked like a prince straight out of a storybook.

"Friday, then." He said, scooting his chair back and rising from the table. You watched him walk away, the light from the sun bending around his slender build. Turning back to your papers, you found it arder and harder to focus, only seeming to think about Friday and it's impending fortune.

An hour later, you gave up, opting to head back to the dorms early in favor of a good night's rest. But, as you crossed the courtyard and headed for your room; you couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been watching you.

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Despite going to bed early, you found yourself sitting in Battle Brief dreary-eyed and exhausted. Markham and Duvera took turns going over the current events, and you had to surpress a yawn. Focusing was nearly impossible -- especially when the realization hit you that Aaric was sitting mere feet away from you.

Aaric.. and, Bodhi.

"That's all we'll be discussing today," he announced as the morning bell rung, and students began gathering their items. "I'll see you all Thursday morning, nine o'clock sharp."

His gaze fell on a blonde first year, who blushed with embarassment at being late this morning. He hadn't focused on her long, his gaze turning to you seconds later.

"How are the papers coming along?" He asked, though it came out more of a demand than a question.

"Good, Professor -- not much left to translate."

He nodded once. "Glad to hear that; I'll be expecting them Thursday."

You nodded in understanding as he stepped from the platform, making to ascend the stairs. Moments later, a familiar voice sounded from behind you.

"Too bad we didn't get to hear from you today; you always come up with such good discussion points."

You turned, your breath catching at the sight of the lean brunette standing mere inches from you. He bore a crooked grin, taking a step closer and up onto the platform with you.

"B-Bodhi," you stuttered, and his gaze intensified. "I... honestly, I didn't think you'd thought much of me, after that Friday night, anyway."

You weren't sure why you were so pressed over the fact that he hadn't spoken to you in weeks, and you wished to put out the angry flame coiling inside of you.

He rose an amused brow. "I didn't think you were keeping track."

A blush stained your cheeks, and he chuckled.

"I actually haven't caught up with you because I was stationed in Aretia for a few days," he explained, and your face fell. "So, not talking to you was certainly not by choice."

Your heart thudded in your chest. What an idiotic thing to say! Accusing him of ignorance when he was out saving Basgiath? You felt like a simple fool.

"Oh my gosh, Bodhi, I hadn't realized-"

"Don't be," he assured, leaning in closer to you. Suddenly, the lights in the room felt too hot, the layers of beige silk felt too heavy-

"Just let me take you out, show you that I mean it."

You stopped breathing.

Silence stretched between the two of you as the last few riders left the hall, and he leaned in close.

"One night, Y/N; just give me a chance." He grinned, and your entire face heated.

"Oh -- one night, ha ha, uh-"

"Friday?"

Your blood ran cold.

"I can't Friday... I'm, uh... busy."

He raised a suspicious eyebrow, his gaze roving over every inch of your face.

"Not surprised -- a pretty girl like you must have a thousand men waiting to take up her weekends."

Psh, if he only knew.

"No, no! It's not that, I just-"

"What about tonight then?" He insisted, taking one of your hands in his. Your next breath caught in your throat at the contact, and you found it hard to look at him directly.

"I-I can't... I have, so much homework."

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, his hand dropping yours in an instant.

"Right... right." He said defeatedly. He took only a step back before sighing, crossing his arms over his chest.

"At least allow me to walk you back to the library, then?"

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

That night, you'd lit a candle and sworn off thinking about boys. Both Aaric and Bodhi had been occupying way too much of your mind lately, and with the amount of pages you still had to translate, there was no way you'd get it all done if you were distracted.

Jesinia had left you to your own devices that evening, understanding the workload you had and needing to run errands of her own. Besides, she agreed you'd be able to accomplish more if she were away from the dorm for a while.

You'd gotten through a few more pages when a soft rap on your window gusted the air from your lungs. You approached the glass quickly, timidly pulling the frame open to reveal who was standing outside.

You gasped when you saw him.

"Bodhi! I told you I couldn't go tonight, I have-"

"So much homework, right," he finished, leaning in through the frame and grunting as he pulled himself through it. He landed on his feet, straightening to look at you once more. "I'm here to help."

You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest.

"Yeah, right."

His eyes widened innocently.

"No, seriously -- with the workload Markham puts on you, I can tell it wouldn't kill you to have a little help." He looks around the room, opting to sit on the edge of your bed. "Where's your counterpart?"

You rolled your eyes, a faint smile spreading across your lips. "You mean Jesinia?"

He shrugged. "Same thing." Looking around the bed at the stacks of papers, he began rifling through them. "So, what can I do to help?"

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

It'd been three hours since Bodhi snuck in, and two hours since you last had a sane thought in your head. Your mind kept wandering to the made up scenarios intrusively clouding your head, all centered around the handsome man before you.

"I think this is the final page of this chapter," he said, looking up from the paper to fixate on you. You gazed back softly, and his lips turned up at the sight.

"We can keep going if you want, or we can call it a night-"

Just then, the front door opened to the dormitory and in strode none other than your counterpart. Her eyes widened as she entered the room, taking in the scene before her.

Oh... hello, Bodhi.

He smiled tightly at her.

Hi Jes.

She schooled her expression as she set down her things, standing awkwardly near the foot of her own bed.

Are you guys studying or something?

You cleared your throat, signing quickly back to her.

No, Bodhi just came over to help me with some homework.

Her brows rose, and she nodded slowly.

I... see.

Bodhi hopped off the edge of the bed, grabbing his flight jacket and tugging it on before heading to the window.

I was actually just heading out, he signed, giving you an apologetic look. Always a pleasure, Jesinia.

She looked anywhere but him, not answering his last signage. You followed him to the window, chuckling as he shimmied through it.

"Did it occur to you to use our front door?"

He scoffed, finally clearing the small portal and signalling for his dragon.

"Do you know what would happen to me if I got caught in the girl's dorms?" He smiled, and his teeth gleamed impossibly white in the moonlight. You resisted the urge to lean out the window and touch him -- you really resisted.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised as his dragon approached in the distance. You grinned as he took your hand, pressing a tiny kiss to the back of it.

"Thank you Bodhi for your help."

You watched him go before climbing down, still in a daze from the events that just happened. But, what pulled you out of your stupor real quick was Jesinia's crossed arms and angry foot-tapping.

What? He just came by to help.

She huffed, flanking the edge of your bed as you sat atop it.

Do you realize what you've done? She signed angrily. In case you forgot, he is a rider -- you are not.

You narrowed your eyes, but she kept going.

Markham gave you this assignment to translate -- not Bodhi. Did you not consider for a second the rules of the Codex that prohibit rider's from accessing sensitive information-

Woah! Woah Jes, you waved your hands. The information isn't private, it's just a war recap. Besides, it's not like Bodhi is going to tell anyone anyways, you assure her. She levels a stare at you.

It's the point, Y/N. If you really needed help, why didn't you just ask me?

Her worried gaze sent a pang of guilt through your chest.

I don't need help -- I can handle it, you signed. I think he honestly just wanted to hang out with me tonight, and I let him without thinking of any repercussions.

The realization dawned on you that she was in fact, right. You weren't supposed to share unedited information with anyone outside your quadrant, and Markham would have had your head if he found out.

Jesinia raised a teasing eyebrow. All this, for Bodhi, huh.

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. He's just a friend.

Yeah, sure, she signed, throwing an accusatory look at you before crawling into her own bed. Aren't you going on a date Friday with Aaric?

Right. That.

You sighed. Yes, you signed, reaching to blow out the candle. Like I said; Bodhi and I are just friends.

She chuckled, signing a single word before the room was enveloped in darkness.

Sure.

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

He'd come over again Wednesday night... to help with homework.

And walked you to the library Thursday morning... just to be nice.

Come Thursday night, he was outside your window again...

"Bodhi, what are you-"

"You alone?"

You huffed, folding your arms in frustration.

"Yes -- but you can't just keep coming by here you know, Jesinia already thinks you're dangerous-"

"Good."

Your eyes met his as he stood outside the window opening, grinning like he'd just won a prize.

"Now, are you gonna sit alone in your room all night, or come be dangerous with me?"

Your eyes widened as he extended a hand to you, and you bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. Did you want to do yet another thing that could get you in trouble? No. But, did you want to continue spending time with him?

Well...

You took his hand, and he helped you up onto the windowsill. Your breath caught as you looked down, hundreds of feet separated you from the cold, hard ground.

Your hands grew clammy.

"C'mon -- Cuir won't bite."

Your breath hitched as he tugged you through the window, and you shakily climbed onto the massive dragon's back. Every thought, every sense in your body had gone out the window (literally) as the beast breathed steadily beneath you, it's wings flapping to keep upright. Bodhi sat you in front of him, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other held onto one of Cuir's spikes.

"Hold on," he suggested, and you immediately closed your hand around the same spike he held. The feeling of your hands held together, his strong arm holding you firmly against him...

Butterflies didn't begin to describe it.

You glanced back through your window one last time, catching Jesinia's surpsised expression as she came through the doorway before the dragon launched into the night sky.

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[jillsandwhichs]

Anything for you

Chapter 15 to RE Characters x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Leon S Kennedy

Summary: Your boyfriend, Leon, lets you know there's something new he wants to try in the bedroom. Being the good girlfriend you are, you oblige

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Dating

WC: 2.9k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Making out, Dirty talk, Use of a belt as a restraint, Blind folding, Oral (Both receive), He cums in your mouth, Protected P in V, Rough sex, Clit rubbing, You both finish, Aftercare

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

"So, what do you think?" Leon asked you, his tone enthusiastic. You cannot believe the words that just came out of his mouth. Him telling you all the things he wants to try in the bedroom. For the last year or so you've been together, you two have kept it pretty vanilla. You never had any desire to go further with your sex life, you've been happy as it is, so this is a surprise to you. All you could manage to do was stare at him and think at a rate that wasn't good for your brain.

He looked around momentarily before taking your hand in his. "Is everything okay sweetheart?" Leon whispered, bringing your hand up to his lips gently. "I'm fine." You giggled and gazed at him. He's so handsome. You just wonder now if he's been unhappy in your guy's sex life. "How long have you wanted to do this stuff?" This stuff as in what he listed off, i.e, tying you up, blind folding you, etc, etc...

With a simple snicker, he breathed in a sharp breath before letting it out. "Ever since I laid eyes on you." He said playfully, giving you a cute wink afterwards. You scoffed and let go of his hands but he then cupped your cheeks. "Darling, what's wrong?" He said softly, kissing your forehead. "If you don't want to do these things, we absolutely do not have to." "Its not that at all, I promise - you know I am always open to new things."

And you are. You aren't a non-kinky person, you're just inexperienced unlike Leon. Before you, he had a girlfriend, one that he hardly speaks of and has long since moved on from, but they obviously did things together and Leon simply has more knowledge on sex than you do currently. "Are you unhappy in our sex life? Or rather, have you been?" You spoke up. You can't even become aroused until this is cleared out of the air. "Absolutely not." He responded. He's genuine; That's all that matters.

You nodded and sighed deeply. "Good, good." Relief coated your voice. He smirked and kissed you lovingly, his lips against your soft, plump ones. "Mmm." He mumbled, cupping your face and standing up, keeping you close to him. You set your hands on his lower front and pulled away from the kiss. "You serious about this?" "I am." Leon laughed slightly, caressing your flushed cheek as you soon became horny. Well, here goes nothing.

"Okay then, we can try whatever you'd like then babe." You stated. To Leon, that was all he needed to hear. Quickly, he snickered and lifted you over his shoulder. You squealed and looked down, noticing him carrying you to your guy's bedroom. "Baby!" You giggled. He slapped your ass and opened the bedroom door, walking in and tossing you on the bed as carefully as he could. In one swift move, his shirt was off and on the ground.

He smirked. God, he's hot when he does. You adore his smile. "Oh babygirl," he began as he turned around, opening the brown drawer that your guy's TV rested upon, the same dresser is directly in front of your guy's platformed bed. "I'm going to make you feel so good." He finished, pulling out what appeared to be a brown leather belt and a black satin tie. "What are those for?" You asked him, a million ideas coursing through your head. "I'm going to firstly tie you up, then cover your eyes." He stated.

Well, that's quite the gist. You tittered and nodded. "Okay then." You're definitely nervous, you two have never done anything like this before but hey, he wants to try it so who are you to deny your man of such fun? Besides, maybe you'll like it. "I think you're going to look so pretty all tied up." He smiled at you and leaned down, laying a kiss on your cleansed forehead. "Arms up." You listened. He removed your shirt and smiled. "So sexy." He then encased the belt around your wrists and connected the strain to the bed frame.

Leon stepped back for a quick second to analyze his work. You appear just fine. "You comfortable darling?" "Yeah, it's a bit tight though." "Good." He bit his lip. What an ass. As he then started to mess with your shorts, your eyes trailed down to his bulge. He's hard, rock fucking hard. This just shows his excitement - which in return, only made you more giddy too. Your shorts ended up on the floor. You're now in just your under garments.

"My love, can I put this over your eyes now?" He asked you in a gentle tone, wanting to ensure your comfort. You wonder what the joy in blindfolds is. They suck for you because you can't see Leon's handsome face as he destroys your guts. How sad. "I'm ready." You are. You want to see what all the fuss is about. "Sweetheart," He started to put the blindfold on your face, "Your safe word is red. If at any point what I'm doing is too much, just say it and I'll stop, alright?" You nodded.

A safe word, huh? Is that how out of hand this can get? Yikes. Eventually though, your eyes saw nothing but pure blackness. Now not only are you tied up, but you can't see anything either. Still, Leon wants to do this, and you'll do anything for him. "What do my eyes have to be covered?" You laughed out, moving your legs slightly. "It's hot." Was all Leon said in reply. Very informative. You snickered and rolled your eyes, though he couldn't see that for himself. You know that if he did, it would've earned you a smack on the ass.

Despite not being able to see anything, you could ear hear his jeans coming off and the sound of them pushing to the side against the smooth wooden floor. Now he's naked too. This is exciting, really. The bed pushed in as he climbed on top of it. The heat of his body over yours could be felt and all this did was further excite you. You are nervous, yes, you wonder how this'll all feel but overall, you know Leon will make you feel good.

"There's something I want to try." He stated in a low tone, and the feeling of body shifting on the bed could be felt. "Oh?" You hummed out in a curious manner. "And what's that?" You asked your boyfriend. No response. Weird. "Leon?" You said aloud, wanting him to reply. "One second baby." It quite literally feels like he's on top of your body, thighs on either side of your torso area. "Open wide babygirl." You did so, but slowly and cautiously.

Shortly after you opened your mouth, the feeling of his hard, pulsing cock filling it could be felt. You moaned and gagged, simply not expecting such a feeling. "Mmph!" You mumbled out. "Shake your head no if it becomes too much, okay?" Okay, sounds good to you. You don't mind giving Leon blowjobs, in fact, you love it. But this is entirely new. It's a new way of doing it. It's rough but at the end of the day, you just want to please Leon.

Slowly but surely, Leon pushed his rear end back and fourth, his dick moving in and out of your mouth. He gets to pick the pace this time around. He made sure to cherish and lavish in this moment. "You're so fucking beautiful." Leon complimented you. You doubt that. You probably look a mess as he does this to you. You moaned faintly as you used your tongue on him, swirling it and twisting it as you sucked him off.

"C'mon baby," Leon grunted, his dick now moving a bit faster in and out of your mouth. It's a bit much but it is nothing you cannot handle. You love this feeling - knowing Leon is going to eventually burst in your mouth. It's enticing and gets you soaked just thinking about it. His tip hit the back of your throat at this point, and you could hear Leon heavily breathing. This is a lot, even for him.

"Is it too much?" He whispered, caressing your cheek as he slowed the pace of his hips down slightly. You shook your head no, but not for the safe motion. It's just not bad. It feels fine and you're here for it. "Good... Good girl." You felt him kiss the top of your head before he then began to move again, this time a bit rougher than he even was before. God, this is hot. You wish you could see his face as he cums and touch him too - it is a shame you can't.

A little bit longer and right as you flicked your tongue over his sensitive slit, he came. You felt that steamy hot liquid seep into your mouth and being the woman you are, you were quick to swallow it all up. He pulled out as you did and you caught your breath. That was a lot, but in a good way. It was new and admittedly, you really liked it. You wonder if Leon did too. "Jesus Christ," Leon snickered and kissed your lips softly.

"Was I good?" You panted out, wanting his praise. For some reason, anything Leon says to you that's sweet in the slightest manages to make you feel good. It's because you're unconditionally & irrevocably in love with the man. "You did amazing babygirl." He kissed you once more before pulling away. You could tell he was positioning himself between your legs, head first. "Oh," you giggled out, knowing what he's about to do.

One thing about Leon - he loves to eat you out. The man could do it for sport. He chuckled as he began to kiss around your thighs, nibbling on them too. The feeling of him doing this made you all the more wet. As he was kissing your inner thighs, he then moved his hands up and pulled your panties down, removing them all the way and setting them to the side. "Fuck sakes, you're soaked." You could just tell he was smirking beyond belief.

"I'm so wet for you." You confirmed to him. Hearing that made him go nuts. "Good girl." He kissed your knee before finally beginning to eat you out. He was quick with it. His tongue moved all over, on your clit, between your slits and around the outer edges of your cunt. It was amazing - the feeling was perfect. "Oh God!" You moaned, your back arching and your wrists tugging at the restraints holding them.

You really want to touch him. Badly. You wanna feel his hair, maybe pull on it a little. Not only that, you'd kill to see his handsome face, especially while he eats you out. Whenever he does, his eyes are always closed and he's just so clearly enjoying it. You love that he loves to please you. It really shows that your guy's fucking is out of pure love.

Leon suckled on your clit, his mouth suctioning on it and his tongue swiping over it continuously. You don't know why or how, but you can feel that you're already close. "Don't cum yet sweetheart." Leon murmured. But how are you supposed to hold back? This is too much. "I can't having you finishing yet." He added. That's right. He always pulls this shit - making you hold back your orgasms. It's literally torture.

"Leon, baby, I'm gonna cum." You whimpered out. You will at any moment now. He either needs to stop, or just allow it to happen. "No, if you cum I won't fuck you." He kissed your clit before slowly watching his tongue over it again. "What?" You gasped out before you moaned softly, knowing your orgasm was about to overload you. Leon knew he couldn't stop it. He pulled away from your pussy and sighed. "That's fine baby, I'd rather be inside of you anyways."

Fuck the things he says never fail to make you further aroused. You could feel the bed lift up from his weight getting off of it as he, to your guessing knowledge, ambled over to grab a condom. "What are you doing?" "Getting a condom so I don't get you pregnant." Leon replied blatantly, which made you snort. "Okay then..." Sometimes he says things in such out-of-pocket ways; But you love him for it.

He climbed back on top of you and you sighed softly. You want him so badly. If only you could touch him, let alone see him. You like this at the same time though. It is new and exciting. He slipped the rubber over his hardened cock and grunted. "Can I?" He whispered against your ear, which sent shivers down your spine. "Mhm." You whispered.

Suddenly, you felt him push into you. You moaned and encased your legs around his waist almost immediately. It was just such a rough way of doing it, you didn't expect him to do that. "You okay baby?" He asked you, kissing your neck, then your forehead. "Mhm, I just," You whimpered as you felt him move out of you slightly, then back in. "It feels good." You assured him. He kissed your lips gently as he began to move more consistently now.

It really does feel good. Anytime he fucks you, it's amazing. You kept your legs wrapped around his torso. Oh, it feels great. You needed this. "You're so beautiful." He whispered, kissing your forehead. His strokes were long and deep. He knows exactly what he's doing to you. "My beautiful girl." Leon added. His words mean everything and more. "I wish I could see you." You managed to moan out. "I know sweetheart." Asshole.

Slowly yet surely, his movements merged from slow and steady, to faster & rougher. You couldn't help but moan under his touch. He's occasionally caressed either your boobs or your waist. Most times he was kissing you, whether it be your lips, cheeks or neck - his lips were on you. You'd kill to be able to touch him. Hell, you want that more than to be able to see him. You just wanna feel his warm, hot skin.

"You're so tight, fuck." Leon grunted as his dick moved in and out of your clenched walls. He always says that. Admittedly, you like it. You hope he's always this infatuated with you and your body. It's always going to be for him. "Only for you." You whispered, leaning up, knowing he'd meet you in a kiss. His lips mushed with yours and his tongue found its way into your mouth again. It really does feel pleasurable.

By now, you could tell Leon was close to finishing. His movements were more messy and his pants were louder. As for you, you could cum at any given moment. Leon is definitely going to make you finish anytime now. "Oh babygirl, fuck." He panted into your ear as he now slapped his manhood harder and quicker between your legs, his dick twitching inside of you.

"Are you close?" "Yeah..." Leon moaned, kissing your neck and thrusting into you as if it'll be the last time he's ever able to. "Me too baby." You replied. Leon was happy to hear that. His hand quickly swooped down between your legs and started to rub your clit. Fuck, it felt so good. "Oh shit!" You moaned and arched your head back from the feeling. "Oh, you like that?" The way he said it was enough to finally send you over the edge. That deep, sexy voice of his and with his teasing tone was too much.

You were cumming and Leon was relishing in it, soon enough finishing himself. The condom he was wearing was surely full of his seed, though you wish that was you instead. As he came, you could hear his grunts but only faintly. His body, full weight and all, rested on top of you as he caught his breath and attempted to calm down. Your cunt really does wonders on him.

Giggling, you smiled as you felt him beginning to remove your blindfold and once it was off, you immediately looked him in the eyes. Oh, he's so handsome. You wish you could've seen him as he came; He always looks so cute. "Hey princess." He playfully winked and began to take off the belt from your wrists. They dramatically dropped and you chuckled. "They kind of hurt now." He grabbed your wrists and caressed them, kissing them too. "Sorry baby."

"Was it good at least?" Leon asked you, dead serious. "Was it good?" You mocked him, "Leon, it was amazing." You smiled with your lips before kissing him passionately. "It was so good." You whimpered out and he smirked against your lips. "Yeah it was." He then flipped you over so you were on top of him. You smiled endearingly at him and rested your head on his chest. "I love you, I'd love to do that again." "I love you too baby."

You'll most definitely have Leon do that again to you soon or who knows, maybe to him.

[ninyard]

I would love to just sit on a roof top and talk to you about anything and everything. Hear all of your opinions on everything.

Wait what the hell that’s so sweet I’m the mayor of yapsville when you get me started on something I have An Opinion on, so I promise you’d probably quickly regret it.

But picture us. Me and you on a roof. And I tell you the following, as the wind blows our hair and the sun starts to set:

- Andrew helps Renee dye her hair

- When they move in together, Andrew always finds his t-shirts or random belongings shoved under Neil’s pillow. Harmless stuff, but usually stuff that belongs to Andrew. Kept safe, untouchable below his pillow like the few belongings he had in the beginning.

- Dyslexic Kevin Day

- Allison helps Neil get his hair back into a good condition when he starts to grow it out post-TKM. She helps him do treatments and recommends the best products. She braids it when it gets long enough. She shows him how to properly tie it back, she teaches him how to properly look after the texture in his hair.

- Andrew has a folder in his camera roll for nobody else but himself of things that make him smile on the inside. Most of the time it’s stupid things, like a terrible advertisement stuck to a lamp post, or an ugly dog, or an awfully parked car. Silly things that make him laugh that he screenshots or snaps a picture of. There’s eventually hundreds of pictures in there. There’s photos of Neil, when he falls asleep on Andrew’s shoulder and Andrew’s too proud to tell him how cute he looked. Photos of Neil in his suit before a banquet, photos of him doing dishes or handing him dinner. There’s photos of Andrew and Renee after they’ve been sparring. There’s photos of things he’s seen in stores that remind him of Kevin, or Neil, or Renee. Sometimes Aaron. There’s even a few photos of Kevin in there, too. Nobody know this folder exists. Not even Neil, who doesn’t even know half of the photos of himself in there even exist. Because it’s just for Andrew. It’s just for him to collect the little joys in his life now that he can somewhat actually feel it.

- Kevin has to wear a brace on his hand/wrist every now and again, and he still sees a physiotherapist once every few months to check up on his hand.

- Matt goes to Andrew the first time he thinks about relapsing. He doesn’t even think about it. Neil is very confused when he comes back to the dorm to find Matt and Andrew playing video games together, but doesn’t question it.

- Dan tags along to night practice every now and again. Nobody acknowledges that she isn’t usually there, they just let her join them on the court and practice as usual. It makes Kevin really happy, actually, to see her trying to better her skills with them. Usually she just joins them when she can’t sleep and needs to get out of her head.

- On the OG foxes last night together before the first of them graduate, they all find themselves around a fire pit in one of their parents houses, or on property Allison rented out, and they tell each other stories and share some confessions in a mostly-funny, kind of emotional way. They cry and laugh and hug and shock each other with some of the things they say but it’s a really beautiful moment before they’re finally split up for the first time

- Dyslexic Kevin Day (again)

[goldenpinof]

why? bc i was thinking about what i watch and what i'd like to see from dan, basically what you said to the previous anon. in late 2018 (at the end of the dan and phil era coincidentally) my taste shifted a lot from mostly comedy and vloggers to video essays and comentary so personally i'd love to see something like that from dan, but i have no idea what dan wants to do. what do you think he wants to do? what's something he'll find fulfilling and sustainable?

i'm going insane reading all these asks about what's next for dan's career. i lobe him i want him to succeed, i want him to get attention and i want to be entertained by him <3

me 🤝 you

sustainable? this is UNSUSTAINABLE!! (sorry, the last promo got in the eyes).

i think he wants (or wanted before wad) to get into stand-up comedy. at some point he proclaimed himself a comedian and started acting like one. unsuccessfully, in my opinion. he is a bad actor, but he is good at exaggerating his feelings. and this is why wad show worked for those who were familiar with Dan, his content, his internet personality and the phandom. i think he loves attention from real life audience, and he loves connecting to the audience while being on stage, so audience participation is an important part of what he wants. (let's count how many times i say "audience"). a not-so-strict script that allows to ask questions, react to answers, comment on people's reactions, make faces, laugh randomly, adjust the show to what is happening on stage – that's a stand-up show that hundreds of people are doing. and i think Dan would be very fucking good at it. the problem is the theme of said stand-up. and i think Dan would love for it to not rely on youtube as heavily as it did during wad (which wasn't an actual stand-up comedy).

remember the last vidcon he attended and the panel that felt like a Ted Talk? it was a fail, i'd say. partly because the audience was too diverse in a sense that phannies weren't the majority. and i'm glad he didn't push this type of career path. wad was so much better, but it was also targeted at the people who already knew him. even if in the beginning i think he was trying to get a wider audience, the lack of funding or enthusiasm promo-wise made it impossible for the "outsiders" to make the experience strange for everyone, Dan including. wad happened to be for us. but was it successful or fulfilling, or sustainable? no. not in a money / audience growth / similar future tours ways. there should be done a lot of changes. and i guess completely changing his management was the 1st and very important step. it was fulfilling in a way that he met us, he saw what his coming out did and what an incredible impact he had on us (not to mention that ii was almost the same. a bunch of gays gathered together).

he clearly wants something bigger than we aka phandom can give him. and for that he must change the theme or/and concept of his shows. i do think that he will try to do a performance again. and i hope it's gonna be less acting and more improvisation.

i'm not sure about a filmed show. he sucks as an actor, and i don't want him to fail :( but if Joey Graceffa successfully put out Escape the Night and Liza Koshy had a series that didn't require more acting than her own skits, maybe something similar could be alright?! "danisnotokay" is an outdated title though. we need to change it, he is not 25 anymore, come on.

basically, he loves attention, complaining about his life, trauma dumping, edgy jokes, screaming, laughing, sex jokes, feeling liked, loved and wanted. he fucking beams when people applaud him. and for that he needs audience. he could get all of it minus an applause with a podcast or livestreams, but he is a stubborn asshole, so i do hope to see him on stage again. preferably a smaller one and with new topics to discuss.

[snowyfrostshadows]

It's all fun and games until it isn't

[sixic]

gojo hates condoms ☆

not even in an ‘i can’t feel a thing’ frat-fuck way either. he just wants to be close to you. he’s touch starved as it is and being inside of you is quite literally the closet he can be to you. why would he want a barrier between his achy length and your silken walls?

he hates condoms. hates them like they’re pointing south on his moral compass. hates them like they hurt to use—which they do, in a way—the mental anguish feels real to him, at least. he picks up a fuss in the grocery store when you pull a pack of ribbed condoms from the shelf to try because why would you seek pleasure from artificial ridges when the protruding veins of his cock would feel just as good if not dressed in a condom?

sometimes he eats you out for twice as long as usual to get you really fucked out and dumb. he’ll make you cum hard and fast and so much that your mind is a mess in the hopes that you’ll forget all about your safety precautions and let him feel you from the inside out. but you always catch on. with a tsk and a finger pointed to the draw where he keeps the horrid things out of sight.

so when you let him fuck you raw for the first time, gojo is reeling. it’s on the condition that he promises to pull out, and promise he does—with a pinky finger hooked around yours and his lips to his thumb—he promises to pull out.

he decides on missionary, because as much as he loves the hundred different positions he knows how to wrangle you into, he wants to connect with you. to make love, not fuck.

and even your wetness against his tip is enough to jolt his stomach downwards. collecting your glossing over his angry head as he rubs himself up and down your folds—he would cum just like this if he wasn’t so stuck on feeling all of you. you’re warm and wet and tight as he pushes against your entrance and oh god he’s going to cum already.

“oh,” he stills, eyes deadset on yours as he slides into you. his tip is rubbing against that spot that makes your back arch upwards and it takes everything in you not to laugh at the distraught look on his face as he says “i have to pull out.”

“you’re joking, right?”

“i really wish i was baby,” he looks pained. he’s never felt something so heavenly and ungodly at the same time. he wants to do bad things, to fuck you into the mattress and breed you full of himself until you’re too weak to care about the aftermath of such recklessness. “i can’t pull out.”

“what?” you laugh, his balls tighten at the sound.

“if i move—” satoru has never looked so serious, “—i will cum. this was a bad idea. why would you let me do this?”

“you’re the one always—”

“actually don’t argue with me, you know what it does to me.” he squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on anything other then the way you feel around him. he does math in his head, thinks about the people he’s killed, how much he loves you… how pretty you look right now… growing old with you.

“i swear you’re getting harder inside of—”

“imsorryiloveyoubutpleasebequietorelseyouaregoingtogetpregnant.”

it takes him a minute of mental gymnastics to feel confident enough to start slowly sliding out of you, but all hope dies when the heel of your foot presses against his ass and with a smile made of sin you pull him deeper inside of you.

he opens his mouth to protest, to tell you he is not joking and all that comes out is a beautiful strangled moan that makes you tighten around him. for a man who claims to be the strongest he is rather weak-willed when it comes to your pussy. he needs to cum so hard that it hurts, but a fear of maybe ruining your life and relationship digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“don’t do this to me,” he whines.

but you’re smiling. you’re so tight and wet and beautiful and everything he’s ever dreamt of having and holding and you’re smiling. “satoru,” you say, and he’s weak. “cum inside.”

anything for you. it’s gorgeous: the way he lets loose, falling forward to press all his weight into you as he groans and his balls release in hot spurts that you can feel painting your insides white. it’s the connection, the intimacy, the tears that prick at his eyes.

and he doesn’t pull out. no, he presses his hips forward to fuck his cum as deep into you as he possibly can and he vows to throw out every condom in the goddamn house.

god he hates condoms.

part 2

[didyoulookforme]

Hi my loveee <3

Was thinking about bf Matty and girlie when they finally get together, them talking about how they wish they’d lost their virginity to each other instead of other ppl. This gets him thinking and he playfully asks her if she’d let him pretend to take her first time now. She thinks he’s just messing so she’s just like “that’s silly”. But then they can’t stop thinking about it, and they end up doing it. It’s not this like over the top role play thing, but it’s a really gentle, intimate, romantic night and I think it’s cute idk idk

-Belle mwah mwah mwah

the way i spiralled down a bottomless pit screaming into the abyss while reading this. i love you so much, belle xoxoxo

anyway…

it would happen the first time they go back to girlie’s childhood home after they’re official. her mum has been begging her to bring matty over so she can finally hug her “son-in-law” but he’s been away on tour so it takes a bit for that to happen. but when that weekend arrives, girlie is beaming from ear to ear because her boyfriend is coming to spend time with her family.

everything in her old home reminds them of when they were younger: the old record player that has stopped working since, the photos of them hanging on the wall from that one family wedding, the tulips that are always in the middle of the dining table. it’s so warm and comforting that it’s difficult to not just be genuinely happy.

girlie and her mum have zero shame asking matty to make them dinner and he absolutely does, because he’s a darling and an amazing cook that won’t cut any corners when it comes to making a gourmet meal. throughout the dinner, girlie’s parents end up teasing them so much that they finally got their shit together and decided to become a couple. she cannot stop smirking at the way matty gets so flustered at all the questions her parents (mostly her mum) are asking because they also know how easily he gets riled up. obviously at one point it gets turned to girlie as well and it’s her time to get embarrassed in front of the love of her life because her mum reveals how she used to scribble matty’s name in her journal. she found it one day while cleaning and “accidentally” read a page lol. to which matty answers with a teasing oh i know because he has also seen it when he stumbled upon the same notebook while hiding under the bed so he wouldn’t get caught sleeping over.

anyway, even with all the teasing, it was a beautiful and lovely dinner and girlie is so over the moon it happened because she never thought it would.

once is time to call it a night, they obviously end up having to sleep in her old room which looks pretty much like it did back in high school. music posters up. photos of her friends (including matty) on a whiteboard. her cd collection piled up against a wall. etc etc.

matty jokes that this is the first time he’ll sleep there without having to sneak in which makes them both very giddy and nostalgic. he even opens the door of her closet to see if the old pillow and duvet he used to sleep on are still there, which they are. newer ones, but still there. girlie pulls out some old photo albums as they sit on the floor, backs against her bed, and look through so many pictures from when they were younger. mostly of matty instead of her other friends. you were obsessed with me, weren’t you? she just nods and admits that she still is. to which he answers by pulling her close and kissing her temple. same with you, baby.

then he just cannot help but bring up the journal because he needs to know what all she wrote about him. she rolls her eyes but pulls it out from under her bed, and they look through it, both of them laughing and swooning at how dramatic and cute girlie was. and still is to be honest. and how clearly in love she’s been with him since they were teenagers. they about cry when they read the pages from when matty offered to teach her how to kiss which leads them to make out for a while because how can they not?

eventually they get to the section where she writes about having sex for the first time. which is nothing new for him. she told him all about it and he was internally furious at the guy for not making her finish. matty notices how she goes quiet and asks what’s wrong, and it’s then that she admits she wishes it’d been him. this sort of sad smile on her face which matty mirrors because he also wishes she would’ve been his first. they just sit there in silence for a bit, holding hands and resting their heads together, not really knowing what to say because nothing can change how things happened. until matty very quietly says that they can pretend to do it, if she’d let him. she gives him his weird look like don’t be silly. are you really serious? but deep down she’s melting because how does he keep getting more sweet. they stare at each other for a minute before matty laughs nervously and mentions to just forget it. that yeah, it’s silly. but she nods her head which confuses matty because he thinks she’s agreeing that it’s weird until she kisses him very softly on the lips and says that she wants to. he breathes out the biggest exhale of relief and gives her a soft okay before getting up, only to go to the closet and pull out the pillow and duvet and lie down on the floor like he used to, girlie all like we’re not seriously gonna have sex for the first time on the floor, right? which makes them burst out laughing. probably not but it helps set the mood.

she ends up pulling him into her bed, making out for a while as matty undresses the both of them with shaky fingers because he’d had countless dreams of having sex in this room since it’s her private space. he treats her like the most fragile thing in the world, like if he did even something barely wrong she’d shatter. and she can’t believe that the boy she used to think about when pleasing herself in this same bed is now naked above her. they get under the covers and run their hands all over each other, touching every single inch of skin available to them. every now and then matty lets out a moan and she just giggles against his neck, reminding him they have to be quiet. he nods and apologizes and he tries his best but it’s clearly difficult, so she has to keep kissing him in order to muffle his needy sounds. especially when she starts to stroke him, which only makes him whine louder against her lips. when he’s finally inside her, they have to take a couple of minutes because it’s almost too much. and when she looks into his eyes, she can very clearly see the same boy she fell in love with so many years ago and it’s so fucking overwhelming that tears start to prickle at the corners of her lids. he asks if she’s okay as he kisses the palm of her hand and she can only nod because her words are nonexistent at that moment in time. once she’s collected herself, she places her hands on his lower back, guiding him to thrust into her, matty letting her set the pace that she wants. it’s all sweet and gentle, taking their time with one another, him making her cum more than once. and she knows matty’s close when he cannot keep quiet anymore so she has to put a palm over his mouth to keep the noise down as he finishes inside her. after they catch their breaths, neither of them can stop smiling, matty beaming very proudly because unlike the other jerk, he did make her cum.

he also mentions the fact that this is so much better than having to lie on the floor with a hard on that he cannot do anything about. girlie jokes that he’s a pervert and he gets “defensive” saying that it was torture as she’d be sleeping beside him with only a shirt (many times an old drive like i do one) and underwear on and matty had to pretend like everything was okay. to which she asks if he ever did anything about it. he admits that he never did with her around, he just suffered with being turned on and could barely sleep during those nights.and she just says that now she can do something about it, so it ends with him getting a handjob, just as lots of romantic teenage relationships start <3