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smusherina · 1 month

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yard work - chapter 16 [final chapter] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warning(s): talk of past drug use and withdrawal symptoms.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 14 / chapter 15

[love renée but fuck am i getting sick of this gif. been looking at it for sixteen goshdarned chapters. finally i am freed.]

You woke up first. Naturally. Every time, every single morning that you'd had sleepovers, you'd been the first to wake up. The sun was shining through the blinds in a pleasant, warm yellow tone. Still morning but not unreasonably early.

You shifted to a more upright position, looking down at the girl still snoozing, whose hand was holding onto your forearm. She was all sprawled out, starfished as much as one could be on a couch. Her body was taking up the shorter end of the L-shape, one knee curled up towards her body, just barely on the couch, while the other stretched well beyond the end of the divan. You were situated much the same, except the other way around. You laid on the longer end so that your heads had almost met in the corner.

Her arms reached out towards you, one around your pillow and the other holding onto you. You knew you'd fallen asleep with much more distance between you, but you couldn't say you minded her having drifted.

Did you, though? You sighed and grumbled as you got up. Might as well do something while you contemplated reality, or something. Mrs George had insisted on some classic American breakfast ingredients, such as bacon and pancake mix. You didn't feel like causing a fire hazard, so pancakes were a no-go, at least for now. Eggs and bacon you could do.

What did you even, like, want? Realistically, actually, no, unrealistically what did you want? There was no sense in trying to make your base wants and desires realistic because at that point was any of that yours anymore? Likely not.

You wanted nights spent with Regina, talking and eating take-out, laughing until your tummy hurt and looking at her glowing in the blue light of whatever Adult Swim show was on at the time. You wanted grocery trips with Mrs George and to go to Kylie's games. You wanted people at school to just, simply not be jerks. You wanted Janis to find peace. You wanted Cady to wake up.

You wanted yesterday to not have happened. You wanted Thanksgiving dinner at the Georges' to never have happened. You wanted for your dad to be different, for Mr George to be different. You wanted your mom to not have died.

Looking at the bacon sizzling in the pan, you chewed on your lips and thought about that. You wanted many things. So many things, mostly for things to not have happened or to have happened differently. It was all wildly unrealistic. You were not a wizard, a time-traveller, or some other mystic being. You were a teenager.

You cracked the eggs into the mix. God, it smelled divine. You pulled a salt and pepper shaker from the spice rack and sprinkled a reasonable amount on there. You groaned out loud and threw your head back when you remembered there was sriracha in the fridge. Mrs George had seen you eyeing the bottle and had not taken a no for an answer, despite your abundant protestations.

"Spare your kitchen utensils the horror and go masturbate in your room like a normal person!" Regina hollered from the living room.

"Oh! Spatula! Harder! Harder!" You cried, moaning like you were receiving the blowie of your life. "If you want breakfast you're gonna have to witness this sordid affair." You called back, giggling. You leaned back from the stove, bending back at the waist. Regina was leaning her chin on the armrest, still more or less sprawled on your couch. There was a pout on her lips and a light flush to her cheeks.

"I'll show you sordid, nerd." She grouched before getting up. You straightened your posture, turning back to the stove, and probed the eggs in the pan with the spatula with a satisfied grin on your face.

You wanted this and more, above all. Was that something you were allowed to want? More importantly, was that something you were allowed to ask for?

Regina came up behind you, hand coming to rest on the small of your back. You didn't jump, much, which you were proud of.

"Looks yummy." She pointed out.

You hummed in agreement. "Can you put toast in the toaster?"

"Sure."

Then, as if no time at all passed, you were sitting down. Then eating and chatting. There was toast, eggs and bacon, and you'd made yourself a bowl of oatmeal. Mrs George had splurged on some blueberries and local honey. Regina refused to make eye contact when you were chewing, citing that your O-face was hard to look at. You only moaned louder and made more faces at her.

Then, just as you were heading to the couch to digest the meal as god intended, lying down, Regina yanked you to the foyer. Still in your jammies and everything, she insisted you bundle up and go for that walk she was talking about yesterday.

You'd hoped she would've forgotten. Sure, the weather was nice for once but if you didn't have to go outside then why would you? It was below freezing!

Much like her mother, she would not budge. You were going on a walk.

"What am I? A dog?" You muttered as you wrapped your scarf around your neck.

"If you were a dog, you'd be a... A Doberman." She was already dressed. It was odd for your roles to have switched like this. Usually, you were the one waiting for her to get ready. She had on a thick, white parka and a cute beanie. She also had on black leggings sure to insulate absolutely nothing and bulky, also black, fur boots.

"What? 'Cause I'm big and scary?" You preened at that, smiling widely.

"Nope." She tilted her head, examining you. "Gloves."

"Geez, okay, mom." You grabbed some mittens from the hat rack. "Why Doberman?"

"They wouldn't look so scary if they didn't have their ears clipped, y'know?" She said. You just looked at her weirdly, not catching her meaning. Your ears were not clipped. "Anyway, let's go."

"Aye aye," With that, you were out of the door.

You walked the block and down to the street. The sidewalk stopped so you went by the side of the road. She was walking ahead of you. It was cold out but not too windy, so it didn't feel so bad.

The sidewalk started again eventually. There, you walked side by side. You were just looking at a bird perched on a wire when you felt her grab your hand. Thinking she had something to say, you turned to look at her. She was still facing forward, the other hand in her pocket, walking along. She was just holding your hand.

Oh. Oh. She was holding your hand. Out in public. Not a lot of people were out at this hour, not even cars since it was a weekend. There was a woman with a stroller. A psychopathic man out on a jog. A dog walker. Still, it was outside where anyone who walked by could see.

You arrived at the park, hands clasped together. You stopped by a bench.

"I don't think we should sit." You said, observing the coating of snow piled on top.

"Let's go over there." Regina pointed to a tree a little ways away.

You went obediently, following the tug of her hand in yours. She was holding your hand. You felt all warm in your chest, like you were full of warm water.

You stopped by the tree. She looked around, trying to spot if anybody was nearby. Then, like she had a secret to tell you, she motioned for you to bend down closer. You did. Her hand squeezed at your fingers as the other came up to your neck, pulling you down the rest of the way.

The warmth you'd felt became hot, like an oil fire erupting in the foil-covered saucepan that was your heart, kernels and half-popped popcorn sputtering out as she kissed you. Your eyes just barely got to shutter closed before she pulled away. Instinctively, your body so starved of affection and touch, you chased her and found her lips again.

She smiled against your mouth. It felt like a secret of the utmost importance being shared, like a pinkie finger wrapped around your own in the corner of the room during a sleepover, giggled promises and childish adoration. She tasted vaguely like breakfast, and maybe egg-breath should've been nasty, but it wasn't.

Cold seeping in, the anxious feeling like you were soon going to be caught taking hold, you pulled away. You didn't lean away entirely, crowding her against the tree. When you'd gotten so close, pinned her, you weren't sure.

"Do..." What were you supposed to say post-kiss? "Do you like it sloppy?"

"What?" Her brows furrowed and the smile on her face turned sharper. What to say post-kiss: Not That.

"Uh, I mean, I just- uh..." You swallowed. "I don't know how to, like, I don't have technique. I dunno. Was that good? I saw Aaron was doing it differently..."

Regina rolled her eyes, head thumping lightly against the tree as her neck lolled back. "You would bring up Aaron now." She sighed. "It's fine. It's- it's good."

"Okay." You swallowed again. A slow smile crept up to your face. "It was good?"

"Ugh, yes, shut up." She shoved you away, but you just allowed the momentum to swing you back to her. "I... I don't think I'm good at words."

You chuckled at that. "No, you're not." She glared. You shrugged. "But, hey, you know me. I'm Chatty Kathy."

"No," She huffed through her nose, seemingly in frustration. "I wish I could say to you what I mean. What I feel. But I just... It's... It's not supposed to be but it's embarrassing."

Looking at her, hunched in on herself like a girl her age was supposed to be at times, so different from how she was most of the time, made your chest feel tight. You figured a person having been raised like she was, having turned out the way she had, would find being vulnerable uncomfortable. Or, as she said it, embarrassing.

Then again, it wasn't your place nor your duty to psycho-analyze her.

"Reg, I..." You hesitated. "I'm tired of, like, sitting in the passenger seat while you bulldoze everyone. I'm tired of feeling like if I do something you don't like you'll push me under too." You pulled away from her, hands getting sore from leaning your weight against the rough bark. "And then there's this whole thing." You gestured around you at the empty park. "Even if we were the best couple ever in terms of, I dunno, vibes or something, we're still..."

"Lesbians." She finished for you. "I'm a lesbian, Jorts." A sentence you never thought you'd hear from Regina George. "I know. For me, it felt justified for a long time, keeping them in their place, but since we started talking again, doing all that stuff just started to seem... Unimportant. And stupid." She fiddled with her fingers, eyes glued to the space between you. "It hasn't gone away. I still want to, I guess, hurt people because it does make me feel better even if it's, like, fucked up. But I want something else more than I want that."

"What's that?" You couldn't help but ask, hope stuck in your throat. Choking hazard.

"You, obviously." She said it so flippantly as if those words didn't just send your heart into the Milky Way. "I want you. I'll stop doing that stuff for you. I know we can't be out yet, but I... I have good grades."

You looked at her, puzzled. She huffed and continued. "I'll go to college. Major in, uh, I dunno, some sorta politics and I'll change the law. Maybe a law degree would work better for that, actually." She seemed to think about it for a moment before returning to her point. "Whichever one would be best in getting gay marriage legalized."

"You..." You had to laugh at that, disbelieving as well as delighted. "You're gonna change the world for me?"

"If that's what it takes." She said, determination shining so bright it made your eyes water.

"Wow, okay." You licked your lips, trying to will the stupid grin off your face. You had some important questions still. "If I moved away, would you still stop?"

She paused at that. Took a moment to really look at you, like she hadn't considered that to be a real possibility.

"Yes." She sounded so sure you believed her. "I just don't have... What it takes anymore. I guess. I don't know if there's something wrong with me that I... I want to be mean, sometimes. It's funny. For me." She glanced down and then looked somewhere over your shoulder. "It took a lot of work to get to what Regina George is now. I don't want to put in all that next year."

"Y'know what they say. New year, new me." You quipped, looking down at her. You were quite sure your pupils had morphed into heart shapes, despite your valiant efforts to have this meaningful conversation without seeming like a love-drunk idiot.

(She kissed you. You kissed her. It was a beautiful morning, you were on a walk and you'd held hands and then you'd kissed under a barren willow tree. It was the first day of Christmas break and you were spending it with Regina George.)

"Does that mean I can be a raging bitch till January 1st?" She asked, eyebrow notching.

You laughed. "Only if you..." You bit your bottom lip, getting nervous. "Only if I get a kiss for every mean thing you say."

"Deal." She offered her hand to you, a cheesy smile on her face.

You pulled your glove off and spit on your hand, then made to take hers.

"Ew! That's disgusting!" She flinched away from you, violently shoving herself back against the tree. "Don't- no! Not near me! Don't touch me with that!"

She bolted and you ran after her, cackling maniacally. You waved your spat-on hand at her as you chased her around the park, her shrieking and you laughing.

"I'm serious, J!" She looked at you over her shoulder as she ran. "Stop chasing me!"

"Stop running away from me!"

"You're just gonna smear your spit on me, you- you fiend!"

"Pinky swear I won't!"

"I won't pinky-swear with your disgusting paws, you-"

With a yelp, Regina tripped over something, probably a root, and fell to the ground. You, having been closing in on her, put the brakes on, windmilled your arms, and tried to stop, but soon followed her into the snow.

"Ouf!" The breath wooshed out of her as you fell on her. She wheezed as you rolled off of her, half-heartedly punching in your direction. You giggled and dodged to the best of your ability, not even minding the snow seeping through your pyjama pants.

Giving some time for her to recover, you laid on your back and looked up at the sky. Clear blue with some thick, greyish clouds looming in the peripheral, morning was turning to day fast. Soon, the park would surely get some more traffic. Kids and their adults, mostly. There was a sizeable play area in the centre. You were pretty much on the outskirts of the park.

It was a familiar spot. You and the guys used to meet your other friends here all the time. Those times it'd been night, too dark to see the faces of the guys with big gym bags, filled to bursting with little plastic baggies and glass bottles.

You turned your head to look at her once her breathing had quieted down.

"You bitch," She hissed at you, the usual venom in her voice gone, replaced by exhaustion. You could only smile, somewhat sheepish but mostly just happy.

"It'd be a lot harder to resist if we were still in school, y'know." You said, turning back to watch the sky. "You can't change the law until we graduate. Until then, we're stuck here. And then, let's say you do change the law and it's passed, it's gonna take some time for people to accept that."

"Yeah," Regina agreed, folding her arms under her chin to lean on.

"And you can say that you'll change a hundred times easily, but actually doing it is different."

"When did you get so wise?"

"When I was all alone for years and did some stupid stuff."

"Like what?" You could tell she wouldn't be expecting what you said next. Even you weren't expecting it.

"You know how I sell drugs and alcohol, right? Where do you think I get the stuff from? I got to know some people while we weren't talking." You sighed. Remembering those times, the worst of them, still so fresh despite it having been years, wasn't nice. "Vandalism, underage drinking, shoplifting, driving without a licence... Did some harder drugs than weed... Stupid shit. I stopped most of it when I got caught the last time and almost went to juvie. Dad got me out, somehow. Probably threw money at people."

You turned your head to look at Regina. She was already paying keen attention to you. "I told my mandated therapist I was gonna change. I said I wasn't going to ever do anything like that ever again. I lied, of course."

"When did you actually stop, then?" She asked.

"Months after the mandated therapy was over." You put your hands in your pockets, getting cold. "I wanted to do it before then. I wanted to just, not be that. A druggie fifteen-year-old spraypainting some dilapidated trailer, hanging around guys that were way too old to be hanging around me. I didn't want to be that but at the same time being anything else was terrifying. I don't think highly of myself, but that was low even for me. Then, Mrs George found me one time."

"Mom?" The question was more out of shock than actual inquiry.

"Yeah." You blinked a couple of times. "I was in a bad state. Withdrawals. I made her promise she wouldn't tell my dad if I allowed her to take me home. She was talking the whole ride from downtown to mine, trying to keep me awake. I just lost it. I don't remember what I said or exactly what I did, but she had to pull over and restrain me." You gulped. "It was awful. Then she offered that I could mow your lawn for some money. I used it the first couple of times to get a new dose. She used to ask what I'd be spending it on and those times I had some bullshit excuse, but the first time I said I was probably gonna get some McDonalds', she cried. Cried real actual tears." You didn't feel like looking at Regina, but you could feel her eyes on the side of your head. "After that it just... It wasn't worth it."

"You never told me." Regina breathed out, still sounding shocked.

"I didn't want to." You turned onto your side, body facing her. "I was- am ashamed."

You didn't feel shame now, though. You undoubtedly would later, tomorrow perhaps, but not now. You were glad for it. You regretted it, wished you hadn't gone down that road, but lying there in the cold snow there was only indifference. That had happened. You had done that.

"Me too." She whispered. "Obviously, it's not the same, but-"

"I know what you mean. And it could be more similar than you think. Quitting an addiction is hard, but I wouldn't say quitting a behaviour is easy."

"It's stupid to compare drug addiction to being a bitch." Regina huffed, a frown on her face. "It's incomparable."

"Well, then let's not compare. Both can be hard in their own way without diminishing the other. What I'm trying to point out is that," You thought for a moment. "We're both trying to get over a bad, toxic habit that feels safe and good and like the only option, without seeing the merit or the other supposedly better option first. It's scary."

"Are you still trying to get over it?"

"I haven't been on drugs since, no. But it's not something that goes away. Not ever."

"And you're still kinda in it." She said, remembering your hustle around the school.

"Yeah. I can't expect you to be all buddy-buddy with everybody suddenly. That'd be hypocritical."

"So what do we do?"

What a question. One that you did not have the answer to. You didn't feel unsettled by the confusion. You hadn't told anyone of your dark past (gosh, could you be any more emo?) since those that knew had just kind of stumbled across it, so telling somebody felt... Good. You'd just sort of blurted it all out without thinking about it too much.

"Can we go back home? I wanna..." You stopped, realizing I wanna make out with you on the couch sounded awfully crude.

A lecherous grin spread Regina's cheeks. "Oh, I see. You just want me for my body."

"No!" You denied, indignant. "I would never."

"You would never want me for my body." She reiterated, purposefully misconstruing what you said. "Wow. Just wow."

"Regina, c'mon, I just mean..."

"Say what you were gonna say." She rolled away and up, towering above you with a twinkling smile pointed down at your prone body.

"Let's just go," You said and tried to get up. Like some bondage dominatrix, she pushed you back down with a shoe on your chest.

You hated how that sort of got to you. Your heart beat faster against her Ugg. Hopefully, she didn't feel it through the thick sole.

"Nuh-uh. Say it."

"I... I wanna make..." You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. "I wanna go home and make out with you on the couch."

"Oh, that wasn't so hard, now was it, baby? Let's go."

It was only once you'd made it back, chucked your wet clothes into the hamper, and spent a considerable amount of time in liplock, that either of you thought to circle back.

"Hey," Regina said, adjusting her weight to not be leaning on you so heavily. Your lips smacked apart and, gosh, now you were the gross ones. "I just now realized,"

"What are you realizing while you're supposed to be kissing me?" You pouted, falling onto your side and away from her. Your hand went over your eyes like you were a swooning maiden. Regina just patted your leg in mock consolation.

"You have your drug thing-" Only she would refer to your past addiction as your drug thing. "but I was, like, the only one doing anything actually wrong. Actively. You know what I mean." You craned your neck to look at her. Your double chin was probably epic.

"I lied to you by omission. I was really mean to you on Thanksgiving."

"Okay, lying by omission was bad and never do that again," She paused, waiting for you to affirm. You nodded solemnly. "But you were only mean after I was mean first. So, both forgiven. Anyway, I'm talking, like... I don't know how to say it."

You blinked. You didn't know what she meant so you couldn't really help. Regina huffed, nails scratching absent-mindedly on your calves.

"You made it sound like we were both wrong for how things exploded." She eventually said. "That was all me."

"I shouldn't have been such a doormat. I let you walk all over me and I never said anything about how I really felt."

"I don't think you can be in the wrong for that."

"I think I can be. At least the way that I was. I could've said something."

"And what would that've achieved? Me cutting you off and nothing changing?"

You clambered up to your elbows. "And now we're here." You smiled, one side a little crooked with how gleeful you were. "Look, we can hash everything out during the break, now just... Let's focus on other things."

Regina, still looking conflicted, caressed a hand up your leg. You shivered. You were in just a hoodie and loose briefs. Regina was more covered up than you, but still in just your old basketball shorts and a big band tee.

"Reggie, I'm getting used to asking for things I shouldn't want. Amuse me." You turned onto your back and hooked your legs around Regina. She fell forward, hands braced on either side of your torso. "Kiss me."

"I just don't want to mess up and have all this go away." She swallowed, a worried crease between her eyebrows.

"I think we're gonna mess up plenty of times. It's a possibility you'll find some justification to make somebody's life hell for a time. I could relapse." You pulled her closer with your legs, arms coming up to cross your fingers behind her neck. "A lot of the time we're not gonna want to admit it, we might not even know it. So, we can lay out a few... Promises, or something."

"Okay," Regina said, gazing down at you like you never imagined. Like you meant things to her. Important things.

"Promise me that you'll listen. Even if you disagree, please hear me out." She nodded seriously. "And, in turn, I promise to speak my mind. When I don't like something, or just like something, I'll say so." Again, she nodded. You loosened your hold on her neck and rubbed your thumbs on her cheeks. Getting to touch her like this, having her literally between your legs, was more than you ever thought you'd get.

Even if this ended in a similar fashion to the Thanksgiving kiss, or even much, much worse, you'd have regretted not taking the chance for the rest of your life.

"And... This is the most important one... Come closer."

Regina shifted closer, bending down, her elbows coming to rest next to your chest as she turned her ear towards you.

You whispered conspiratorially, like this was top-secret: "Still let me do your yard work."

Notes: Fucking christ. I wrote this all in one sitting. 4.3k words. That's like two chapters. I've written long chapters before, longer than this, but I got so used to the 2k on average pace that this felt huge.

Also! Don't be spooked by the [final chapter] marking! This is the last chapter in the story, yes, but we'll be hearing more from Reggie and Jorts still! I have a couple of epilogue sequences I want to write. Would y'all be interested in a poll as to what order those should be published? As in, chronological. Do we start from 10 Years Later... or something more like, idk, next summer? Lmk in the comments :)

This might be counterintuitive to add, and if my lovely amazing readers have exercised their reading comprehension during this series they might get why on a more nuanced level, revenge on Gretchen was left out purposefully. This will not be the last we hear of her, I have some plans for her in some of the epilogues, but yes. That plot point was left open on purpose.

The name. A lot of people like it! I was feeling insecure about my lack of foresight and impulsive naming, but hey, as it turns out it's not that deep! To add, it went really nicely with the end there I think :) No changes will be happening.

This note is getting so long. I just wanna thank everybody that's been along for the ride so far. I read every single comment and check my notifications way too often for new ones. I'm pretty used to writing for quite dead/inactive fandoms on AO3, and I love that site it's my origin, but it's very different to Tumblr. I just feel like people on here are much more open to sharing their thoughts. Everybody who's bore witness to my grief with the taglist, thank you for your patience. And thank you so much for wanting to be on it. I cannot believe people wanted that. For little ole me? Oh, you shouldn't have...

If there are spelling errors or grammatical weirdness, shhh. I'm not reading all that again at 1am. Toodles!

Taglist will be posted separately! Comment on that post if you want to be added to be notified when the epilogies are published!

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #mean girls x reader #lesbian regina george #wlw #fic: yard work

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holllandtrash · 11 months

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in you, i trust | mick schumacher social media au

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

after the it couple of formula 1 go months without any interactions, the fans start to speculate what's going on. there's no way mick and you are over...right?

wagupdatesf1

liked by jemmaf1, formula1wags and 23,403 others

tagged: dbook & yourusername

wagupdatesf1 (ex?)Girlfriend of Mercedes Reserve Driver, Mick Schumacher seen with a man during her Cabo trip - pictures taken 14 hours apart

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orangelando "with a man" YOU MEAN DEVIN BOOKER

44hamilton how does she go from f1 driver and certified lover boy mick to a phoenix suns basketball player HOW DO THEY EVEN KNOW EACH OTHER

mickisbabyboy so does this mean her and mick are over...? 🥺

michschumacher added to their story

yourusername

liked by riabish, lissiemackintosh and 54,203 others

yourusername i'm doing better than i ever was

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schumyys only here to see if mick commented

boxboxpls remember when mick used to comment 500 heart eye emojis i miss those days

sebbymick am i reading into the caption too much or is this her fr announcing she's single

liked by mickschumacher, mercedesamgf1 and 580,024 others

f1 Mick Schumacher is going to drive father Michael's @mercedesamgf1 W02 from the 2011 season at the Goodwood Festival of Speed! ✨

Now this, is special 🥹

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mercedesamgf1 can't wait to see it!!

formulafanclub sooo exciting!!! complimentary tissues better be given with each ticket purchase

wtf1jemma so if yn doesn't show up to the goodwood festival of speed then we know something's up

mercedesamgf1

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 312,384 others

tagged: lewishamilton & georgerussell

mercedesamgf1 Blimey! It’s British GP Race Week at Silverstone. ❤️🤍💙

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freepracticespls Y/N LIKED THE PHOTO THIS IS GOOD RIGHT

lewishamilton ❤️

lightsoutmick if y/n isn't there this weekend i will actually throw myself onto the track at lights out she HAS to be there

yourusername

liked by landonorris, mickschumacher and 36,024 others

yourusername good vibes good friends good city

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whoislewis it has officially been 5 months since we got any mick content from y/n

formulanever no i think it's been 6

samgoesracing BESTIE ARE YOU STILL WITH MICK OR NOT

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yourusername

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yourusername As many of you know, I spent majority of 2021 and 2022 traveling the world with Mick for formula 1. Because of that, my life was put on hold. While I cherish those days, I lost sight of who I was.

Six months ago, Mick and I amicably decided to take a break. While the decision wasn’t easy, it was what was best for both of us as we both were in transitional points in our lives. During this time, I have traveled the world, for myself, and started to journal what I learned from locals, friends and strangers. Early on into this journey, I realized that my experiences were something that should be shared as I know we all go through times times when we feel lost and unsure of who we are.

‘In Me, I Trust’ is available now and is a collection of my stories, thoughts and advice. I hope you take what you need from it ♡

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dbook 10/10 stars

yourusername dev you're only saying that because there's a whole page dedicated to you dbook only a page??? i thought i had a whole chapter

slowdowninthepits SHE WAS WRITING A BOOK THIS WHOLE TIME!! sneaky sneaky

kissformick wait so does this mean her and mick are officially over 🥺🥺🥺 we really are children of divorce

mickschumacher

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mickschumacher worth the wait

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paddockbabes THE BOOK WAS WORTH THE WAIT OR SHE WAS

hamilgrussell IS THAT AN OLD PICTURE OR A NEW ONE I CAN'T TELL

0304mclarenss stop did y/n really send him a personalized copy im sobbing

ricciardoscafe "much like this book has found its way to you, i know my love will too" THAT MEANS THEY'RE GETTING BACK TOGETHER RIGHT?? RIGHT???/ SAY YES RIGHT NOW

yourusername

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tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername in you, i trust

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mickschumacher did you re-name your book?

yourusername no that's the sequel, limited copies though, probably just for your eyes only

mcnorris all is right in the world!! mom and dad are reunited!!!

lovelylewis only y/n would write a book on being single and how to grow while being alone and then go right back to mick

formulanever i don't blame her

haven't done a smau in a while, hope ya'll liked it ♡

#mick schumacher x you #mick shumacher imagine #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher smau #mick schumacher instagram edit #mick schumacher social media au #mick schumacher instagram au #f1 smau #mick schumacher x reader #holllandtrash #mick schumacher x yn

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Series Masterlist - Break Me Down

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

AN: For those of you who enjoyed “Checkerboard,” here’s the requested prequel series! It’s gonna be a long road to get to that version of Soldier Boy. Technically this is an AU set post-season 3.

Series Tags/Warnings: **Rated M. (18+ only.) Enemies to frenemies to lovers. Angsty, messy, moral quandaries galore. This is a romance, but it’s a dark world with morally gray and dark characters, including Soldier Boy, of course. **Smut, language, misogyny, violence, and other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read: The BMD Playlist

Chapters:

Prologue

Part 1 - The Game Begins

Part 2 - You Move Me, Baby

Part 3 - Somewhere Down Below

Part 4 - On the Inside Out

Part 5 - Morning, Night & Day

Part 6 - A Hot Meal

Part 7 - Until Midnight

Part 8 - Something in the Way

Part 9 - Breach

Part 10 - Caught in the Balance

Part 11 - The Lion's Den

Part 12 - All Your Wicked Ways

Part 13 - A Generous Deal

Part 14 - Safe House

Part 15 - The Tower

Part 16 - Soldier Boy

Part 17 - More Than Words Can Say

Epilogue - All My Living Time

Series Complete!

Did you like this series? If you'd like to keep supporting me as I continue the BMD-verse, here's a way to keep me caffeinated:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Read More In the BMD-Verse

Not done reading this version of Soldier Boy x Reader? Well, there's more to their story.

(**Notes 18+ only and/or smut)

One-Shots:

In the Dark You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

Checkerboard** You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

Wanderlust** Your wandering hands are keeping Ben up at night.

Love Actually** Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 - Complete

Wake Me Up** [MINI SERIES] A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, he is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

Series Complete!

Strong As Blood** After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out?

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Part 1 || Part 2 - Complete

Until Morning A quiet moment between you, Ben, and your newborn daughter.

Green** Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

Calculated Risks You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

Imagines:

Getting jealous.** 💚 Ben needs new clothes, but the shop girls think your boyfriend is fair game.

Ben’s reaction to his girlfriend on her period.❣️ How he takes care of you.

Ben loses you. 💔 Includes a “twist” ending…

Talk to Me 💞 In the wake of his vivid nightmare, you confront Ben about his fears and get him to open up. [Sequel to “Ben loses you.”]

Moodboard below created by @chernayawidow:

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #the boys amazon #private investigator!reader #checkerboard prequel #dark romance #break me down #break me down masterlist #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #soldier boy fanfiction #the boy au #enemies to lovers #romance #zepskies writes

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 months

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The Eye of the Hurricane [14] - Wedding

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A wedding can be a good place for clarity.

Word Count: 3400

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, stabbing, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well, this was going to be fun.

The wedding was tonight and your phone already had way too many text notifications. You would be meeting Becca and Sarah today to get ready, so you had woken up way too early just like Bucky. After taking a quick shower, you made your way downstairs to see him in the kitchen, making coffee.

“Morning.”

Bucky's head snapped up and he turned around to look at you better.

“Whoa,” he said, “This is a surprise."

You pulled your brows together.

“Um, we've been staying in the same honeymoon suite for a while now, in case it has escaped your notice.”

“No no, as in— am I allowed to see you?”

You blinked a couple of times. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean—” he said, motioning between you. “Isn’t it bad luck? If I see you before the wedding?”

You shrugged your shoulders, then jumped to sit on the kitchen island.

“We’re going to get a divorce anyway,” you said. “That whole tradition is for actual couples, not us.”

Bucky pursed his lips and cleared his throat before holding up a mug.

“Coffee, my romantic wife?”

“Stop calling me that, and yes.”

He chuckled, filling the mug with coffee before handing it to you.

“There you go.”

“Thanks,” you said. “So, we’re getting married then.”

“Mm hm.”

“So I’ve been thinking,” you said. “There’ll be a lot of important guests there as well as alcohol. A good way to start alliances.”

“You’re going to use our wedding to make business deals?”

“You’re not?” you asked back and he thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah I see what you mean.”

“And I need to talk to Stark tonight.”

Bucky grimaced.

“I did that earlier this week,” he said. “Would not recommend, it’s not a nice experience.”

You stifled a laugh.

“Well, we need him,” you said. “As much as I hate to admit.”

“I mean—” he started but was cut off when someone pounded on the door, making both of you turn your heads before Becca’s voice reached inside.

“You’d better not be seeing each other right now!”

Bucky threw his head back and you made your way to the door to open the door, smiling already. When you opened it, you found Becca and Sarah standing there and Sarah looked amused already while Becca let out a gasp.

“Just as I thought!” she said, walking past you to step inside and you hugged Sarah when she stepped inside.

“Hey!”

“Hey there,” she said. “I held her back as long as I could.”

“Appreciate it,” you said and pressed a kiss on her cheek, then turned around to see Becca who made her way to Bucky.

“Are you trying to get bad luck? Why are you seeing the bride?!”

“Ask the bride,” Bucky said and you rolled your eyes.

“Come on, everyone in this room knows that this is more of a business deal than a wedding.”

Sarah shook her head slightly and you stole a look at her.

“It is,” you insisted and she held up her hands.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“And where is my coffee?” Becca asked and Bucky nodded at the coffee machine.

“It’s right there, help yourself.”

“Did mom teach you nothing?” she asked while you leaned your head on Sarah’s shoulder, watching them bicker. “Is this your first time interacting with a guest in your place?”

“We don’t have the time to get coffee Becca, we can get it on our way to the weekend house,” Sarah stated and you checked your phone when you received another text, then heaved a sigh.

“Why is everyone texting me?”

“It’s just my theory but maybe because it’s your wedding day?” Sarah asked and motioned at you. “Give me your phone, you’ll be busy the whole day.”

“Oh my God thank you.”

“I already talked to Steve and Sam and I know when exactly you’re supposed to arrive there,” Becca said. “Which means, if you’re late as you like to be all the time—”

“It’s my own wedding Becca, I couldn’t be late if I tried.”

“Well forgive me if I don’t trust you,” Becca said. “I’m serious, my brother or not, I’ll shoot you if you’re late.”

“Does this have something to with the fact that you don’t know if your girlfriend is coming to come to the wedding so you’re channeling all your anger to me?”

“Bucky!” you hissed and he shrugged his shoulders.

“What?”

“Maybe worry less about my relationship and more about yours since we’re still not sure your wife who happens to be my best friend won’t kill you in your sleep,” Becca said airily and Bucky scoffed.

“She won’t kill me in my sleep.”

“She might.”

“She won’t— Y/N, tell her.”

“My dad raised me better than that,” you pointed out. “You don’t even kill enemies in their sleep, let alone allies.”

A happy smile lit up Bucky’s face as if you had just proclaimed your undying love to him on a bent knee and he motioned at you.

“See?” he asked Becca, pride clear in his voice. “We’re allies.”

“You’d have to be awake for it,” you added and Bucky’s head whipped around so that he could see you better.

“Come again?”

“Because honor—”

“Alright!” Sarah cut you both off. “Let’s go. Bucky, Sam and Steve are on their way here.”

“Yeah they just told me on group chat.”

“You have a group chat?” you asked and shook your head. “Of course you do.”

“Come on,” Becca said as she walked outside and Sarah followed her. You lingered there for a moment before you nodding at Bucky.

“I’ll see you at the wedding then.”

“See you, wife.”

“Stop calling me that!” you said and quickly left the suite before he could reply, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

The majority of the day had gone pretty fast. Thanks to your wedding planner, everything looked exactly how you described her. Barnes weekend residence and its huge yard were already gorgeous, and as the night fell, it looked almost magical. All the guests were seated, Becca and Sarah were already by the altar and so was Bucky, Steve and Sam. Even though you had tried to keep this wedding simple and with as few people as possible, it still looked like there were too many people and you brushed a hair over the skirt of your wedding gown, shifting your weight from one foot to other.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up and you smiled at your father.

“I’m fine,” you said before he could ask, leaning your back to the wall, waiting for your cue. He kept his gaze on you before giving you a teary smile.

“Your mother would be so proud of you.”

“I haven’t done anything to make her proud yet,” the reply left your mouth before you had a chance to stop it and he pulled his brows together.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “You don’t have to do anything.”

No.

No you did have to.

You hadn’t done anything at all to prove yourself yet thanks to your father pushing you out of the picture so that Ian could be his heir instead of you, but you were going to fix that.

Whether he liked it or not.

“Right,” you managed to say. “Sorry. I’m just kind of nervous, that’s all.”

“That’s understandable,” he said. “But I assure you, tonight will go the way you’ve always dreamed of.”

Well, you had dreamt of actually being in love with the groom when you dreamt of your wedding but your father didn’t need to hear that.

This was going to be yet another thing you would keep from him, along with the car chase incident.

“Your aunt texted me by the way,” he said. “She sends her apologies for not making it to the wedding but she’s going to visit soon, she says.”

You tried not to roll your eyes and nodded your head.

“Great.”

“Y/N, I know things haven’t been great lately but I—” he started but was cut off when the music started and you pushed yourself off the wall, rolling your shoulders back. He offered you his arm, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your wild heartbeat down.

“Ready?” he asked and you bit inside your cheek, then took his arm.

“Ready,” you said and you both started walking down the aisle.

It was alright. This whole marriage was just going to last until you took over, and then you were going to get a divorce and you and Bucky would go your separate ways.

Bucky, who was now looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had seen.

You averted your gaze from his as your father and you reached the altar, and he squeezed at your arm before nodding at Bucky, then took his seat. You let out a breath and stole a look at Becca and Sarah, then turned to face the priest, forcing yourself to focus.

Fine, from an objective viewpoint he did look very handsome today.

Not that it changed anything. He was still the most arrogant man you had ever met.

Your heart was still beating so fast that you could hardly focus on what the priest was saying. You and Bucky had informed him earlier on that you would skip the speeches, considering that you had nothing to say other than lies, and you didn’t want to risk people seeing through your lie.

You could swear your head was spinning but you tried to see through the nervousness making its way through your system. You just needed to do this to take over, and then you’d get a divorce and you were hardly going to think about Bucky after that point, except for—

Well.

Technically you were going to have to do business with your ex-husband but that slight detail aside, it was going to be fine.

Blood was muffling your ears as you heard Bucky speak and you dug your fingernails into your palms, then your head shot up when you heard your name.

“Y/N?” the priest said and you blinked a couple of times, then cleared your throat.

“I—I do,” you said almost automatically and Bucky let out a relieved breath as the priest smiled calmly.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” he said. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Fuck.

Fuck, this right here had escaped your attention while planning the wedding and from the look of surprise on Bucky’s face, it had escaped his attention as well. He stared at you for a moment as if he didn’t know what to do, and the priest coughed as if trying to signal him.

“You may kiss the bride,” he repeated and you gave a small nod of your head, making Bucky swallow thickly before taking a step to you. Your heart skipped an excited beat as his arm sneaked around your waist and he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, then he dipped you slightly backwards, then leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss.

…Oh.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamed about this before. Back when you still had the biggest crush on Bucky, you would spend hours thinking about how it would feel if he kissed you, even imagining your wedding sometimes but—

You hadn’t thought that his kiss would feel this good.

Before you could even stop yourself, your arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours like he wanted to make the moment last. You exhaled, your breath mixing into his but when the applause started, you both snapped out of it. Bucky helped you gain your balance as you tried to catch your breath, then rolled your shoulders back and stepped back from him to smile at the crowd, ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes were glued to you.

You were quite certain you were the first bride who was going out of her way to avoid the groom on her wedding, but in your defense, you had a lot to think about.

Not that kiss.

You had to think about anything and everything except that kiss.

You passed through the huge garden to approach the bar, stealing a look at Leila and Becca who seemed to be in a deep conversation but judging by the small smile on Leila’s face, it was going well. Bucky was talking to Steve and Sam by the corner and Sarah was listening to Winnifred who seemed very enthusiastic to tell her something, motioning at the garden.

Probably something about the wedding.

You ordered your drink and smiled at Ryan who was sipping his drink by the bar and he smiled back.

“Ma’am.”

“Hi Ryan,” you said and looked around. “Please tell me Ian left early.”

“He’s in the bathroom ma’am,” Ryan said and you rolled your eyes.

“Great,” you said. “So are you having fun?”

“I am, thank you,” he said and looked down to his glass. “It’s a nice wedding and you…you look very nice if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Oh thank you!” you said. “You know, if you ever—”

“Mrs. Barnes,” another voice cut you off and you looked over your shoulder, then turned around to see him better.

“Mr. Stark,” you managed to say and the bartender put your glass on the counter. You took it into your hand and leaned back to the counter.

“Tony is alright.”

“Y/N is alright,” you quipped and Tony smiled at you.

“Very well.”

Ryan’s phone beeped and he cleared his throat, then put his glass down and walked away from you to make his way to the house.

“How do you like the wedding so far?” you asked and Tony thought for a moment.

“No one is shooting at anyone,” he said. “I’d say it’s going well.”

“The night is still young,” you said and he chuckled.

“I suppose,” he said. “But the drinks are pretty good.”

“Food is gonna be better,” you said. “We just figured people shooting at people would be less of a possibility if we made them drink first.”

“Your idea or Bucky’s?”

“Mine.”

Tony hummed and ordered his drink while you sipped yours.

“My father says you’re not exactly happy about this wedding,” you told him and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m thinking about how it will affect the balance of things now that you mention it,” he said. “Your father is a very powerful man, and you and Bucky uniting families…”

“I understand your concern perfectly,” you said in a calm tone even if your heartbeat sped up. “But I assure you, this will change nothing.”

“Is that right?”

You clicked your tongue.

“In your business it will change nothing,” you corrected yourself. “I’m quite familiar with your deals with my father, and the Barnes family. I’ll make sure they remain as they are.”

“As Bucky’s wife or as your father’s new heir?” he asked back and you arched a brow, but managed to keep your expression straight as the bartender gave him his drink as well.

“Is that what people say?”

“Well you’re marrying into Barnes family, your father still hasn’t announced his heir, and you have a way of making people talk about you lately,” Tony pointed out. “Not to mention, Natasha seems impressed with you.”

Your eyes found Natasha who was drinking with Clint before you turned your glances to Tony again.

“But you are not?”

“I don’t know you enough yet,” Tony said. “I mean I’ve had the time to figure Ian out and let me tell you, I am absolutely not impressed. But you? You’re a mystery.”

“I’m not,” you told him. “I want the same thing as you do. To keep the truce going, and to keep the town safe.”

“So you claim,” Tony said. “Even you can’t admit, this wedding gave you a huge advantage in power and allies.”

“Let’s be serious here Tony, it didn’t give me any advantage over any of the bosses here.”

“Yet,” Tony added and you hummed, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yet.”

“But you want it to.”

“I want to make sure my family continues the truce after my father retires,” you stated. “I think that’s what we all want, no?”

Tony huffed out a laugh and raised his glass slightly.

“It is,” he said. “But we also want to make sure your fight for the crown doesn’t hurt the town.”

You opened your mouth to say it would never happen, but heard Pepper calling out for Tony so you both turned your heads before Tony cleared his throat.

“I should go,” he said. “I’ll be in touch. Maybe a dinner with the newlyweds?”

“We’d love to host you and Pepper,” you said and he downed his drink, then put it on the counter and walked away. You let out a breath, then finished your drink as well before motioning at another.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with your husband?” Ian’s voice reached you and you rolled your eyes, then leaned sideways to the bar.

“What do you want?”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “I come in peace.”

“As if.”

“Come on Y/N, it’s your wedding,” he said. “I would have thought you’d be in a better mood.”

“I was, then you started talking to me,” you said and he hummed.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m being completely serious here. Congratulations for the wedding, I’m happy for you. I know we’ve had our differences but we both want your father to be happy, and this wedding is a huge relief for him.”

You pulled your brows together.

“A relief?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s a relief for me as well. Now you can just be happy with Barnes and focus on your marriage and your family.”

That bitter taste climbed up your throat but you managed to scoff a laugh and motioned for another drink.

“Is that what you think will happen?” you asked him. “Me and Bucky get married and… then what? I get out of your hair?”

“We’re family,” he reminded you. “That’s not what I—that’s not it. You’ll just have different priorities.”

“Did you give the same speech to Bucky or is it just for me?” you asked and he rolled his eyes.

“You know how the business works Y/N, you don’t need me to tell you.”

You bit inside your cheek hard enough to hurt, then reached out to grab your glass of drink the bartender just placed on the counter.

“You’re the daughter of one of the most important men in the business,” he said. “This marriage will be good for the family, uncle knows that. Not to mention…”

You lowered your glass and tilted your head.

“Not to mention?”

“You’re a wild card,” he said. “It’s hard to play you.”

Your grip around the glass tightened and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe I’ll play you.”

“Spouses don’t get involved, you know the rules,” he said with a snort and your smirk widened before you took a sip, keeping quiet. That confident look on his face faltered when you didn’t reply and he pulled back slightly.

“You can’t,” he said as if trying to convince himself. “You wouldn’t.”

“Here you are!” Bucky’s voice cut through the momentary silence between you and Ian and you turned your head to give him a smile. “Was wondering where you were sweetheart.”

“Time for the food?”

“Mm hm, let’s go.”

Ian gawked at you in silence while you narrowed your eyes at him, dragging the tip of your tongue over your teeth.

“You wouldn’t,” Ian repeated, making Bucky looked between you before he casually stepped closer to you without saying a word, as if making sure you knew he was there to interfere at the slightest sign of you wanting him to. Your stomach did a pleasant flip and you downed your drink, then put it on the counter to turn to Ian.

“Enjoy the wedding, Ian,” you said, grabbing Bucky's hand. “And make sure to rest tonight, will you? Tomorrow will be a new day for both of us.”

With that, you walked away from Ian with Bucky right behind you, a proud smile warming your face.

Chapter 15

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob! bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob boss!bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob au #mob!au

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creedslove · 6 months

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WHO KNEW? 💍💔 - PART THREE

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

"You took my hand, you showed me how

You promised me you'd be around (...)

I took your words and I believed in everything you said to me (...)

If someone said three years from now, you'd be long gone, I'd stand up and punch them out, 'cause they're all wrong

I know better, 'cause you said forever, and ever, who knew?"

Summary: you and Joel try to handle what happens after you both slept together and a revelation brings the truth about the nature of your relationship with Joel

• This is the third part of the small series: Who Knew? 💍💔 (PART ONE | PART TWO) which was also inspired by this amazing HEADCANON request

Warnings: angst, broken hearts, mentions of divorce, mentions of infidelity, fluff, age gap (Joel is four to five years older than reader and the time skip is 12 to 14 years (Sarah's age) but feel free to imagine whatever you want), smut, oral sex (f! receiving/m!receiving) piv, dirty talking, discussions of relationships

A/N: alright besties, I really don't know where this chapter came from, I had sworn I wouldn't write continuations of this story, but here I am, with a serious case of Joel Miller brain rot and all I could think of was him! I love this story with all my heart and I don't know if this chapter is consistent or not, as it was written through several days and I poured my feelings into it, but days change and so do feelings so hehehe, also, I may or may not have been a little too horny for Joel xD, anyway, I hope you beautiful besties like the story ❤️

12.3k words

Waking up by Joel's side was something you could've sworn it would never happen, it would only become a distant memory as the years advanced after the divorce; you thought maybe you would think about it every so often, when nostalgia got the best of you, if you felt lonely at times or maybe even the moments you would spend next to your ideal future husband, a man worthy of you and your love, someone who would actually treat you exactly how you deserved it, who wouldn't run away with the first willing whore he could find and build a life with her, the life that used to be yours, and was supposed to. No, that ideal husband would never steal from you, not your happiness, your beauty or your youth, as much as you closed your eyes and tried picturing this ideal, ethereal man, you were haunted by your ex-husband. It was his smile that came to your mind when you thought of this bittersweet fantasy; his hands that gripped your body, it was him. You realized your deepest wish was to have Joel as that husband; in an alternative universe where he wasn't a jerk, instead, he would be the perfect, sweet and hard-working husband, just like he used to in the beginning, and you both would love and support each other, building up a life, a family and a home together. That was how things were supposed to go, but everyone knew the end of that story.

What nobody except you and Joel knew, was the plot-twisted epilogue of your story with Joel. Very often, you thought of your relationship as a closed book, a shitty, depressing romance novel that had its indignant ending written and done, with no space to fix things up… until your return to Austin and things simply started to happen. You refused to believe it was a new chapter or a new beginning, quite the opposite, as much as your rational said had begged and screamed not to do it, not to get close to Joel and you simply went there and did it, now it begged you to put an end to it, your mind told you the night you'd spent together was just scratching that maddening itch and nothing more. It would be easy to pretend nothing had happened: Tommy had left shortly after the cops arrived at your place and headed to his girlfriend's, according to Joel. Sarah was absolutely clueless and had no idea what was going on, especially after both you and her dad had put an end to her efforts of setting you both up. All you had to do was to convince Joel of the same: it was a mistake, it shouldn't happen again.

But then, at the same time, why was it so good to wake up next to him? In fact, next to him was an understatement, as you were all over him. Safely tucked into his arms during the night, you had switched positions several times like you often did when you slept, but Joel always kept you at arms length, refusing to let go of you no matter what. It shouldn't feel this good, but it did, and even when morning came and it was time to get up, you pretended you didn't really have to. It was your secret, no one would know nor judge you if you stayed a little longer in his bed, what was the worst that could happen, after all? So the moment you felt Joel stirring right behind you, your eyes closed shut and you relaxed your body as best as you could so he would think you were asleep. It was quite stupid, you were aware, but suddenly you felt shy to be awake in his presence?! It was odd, but you didn't know how to act exactly… were you supposed to kiss? Act as a continuation of the night before or straight up pretend nothing happened? Should you begin ‘the talk' with Joel?! You didn't even know what you were going to say, so instead, pretending to be dead, well actually, asleep, was definitely a better plan. Joel hadn't changed in all those years, you recognized and anticipated every single move he would make; it started by his soft groans the moment he fully woke up, the hesitation he probably felt the moment he eyed you there and quickly the memories of the night before filled him entirely. His morning erection was hard pressed against your ass and that was another difficult part of the equation taking place in your mind at that moment; all it would take you was wiggling your ass a little and you both could start your day in a very fun way. It was tempting, and while you baffled yourself whether to do it or not, you felt Joel again. The way he gently placed his hand on your arm, caressing it up and down, almost in a ghostly touch, a bit afraid of scaring you away; to Joel, you were like a beautiful, delicate butterfly flying into his life, making things prettier for him, but also so easily scared off. He couldn't afford to have you fly away from him once more, not that time. His hand went to your naked stomach, stroking it softly, he enjoyed the butter-like feel of your skin under his hand. After all the cuts, bruises and dirt from hard work, it was a nice change to be able to touch you. He'd had his fair share of touching beautiful women, but none of them would ever compare to you. You were naked under his touch, entirely for himself, a dream that came true at that moment and yet it seemed way too good to be real. Hands that stroked your body leaving a trail of goosebumps over your sensitive skin, as he nuzzled your shoulder, taking some strands of hair away from your neck, he let his stubble beard scratch it softly, lips connecting to your skin, in gentle and silent pecks, ones that made you bite your lips not to moan too loud, even if the goosebumps insisted on appearing, hardening your nipples and sending a wave of lust down your core. Joel had his good ear to the mattress, not hearing if you were letting out small, sexy sounds but he could see the visible signs of his caress on you. He wanted more of it, he woke up with hunger, more like starvation and it was for you, your body, your touch, your presence. He wanted you, and he would have you, not only that morning, but forever, by his side.

“I know you're awake” Joel mumbled against your skin, you could feel his teeth nibbling you, making you squeal softly and moan at his touch, you turned around facing him and raised your eyebrow, heart melting at how adorable Joel's messy bed hair was, even if it was a little grayer now, it still made him look so handsome, you couldn't hold yourself back but caress his curls gently.

“How did you know I was awake?” You questioned him and felt his teeth scraping your collarbone instead of actually answering your question. It didn't take very long for Joel to straddle you, pinning you against the mattress as he took in all of you. You were beautiful, gorgeous, you were his. At least that was what he wanted to tell himself, but it didn't matter the future, not then, because at that very moment you belonged to him and only him. You lay under Joel, your breathing accelerating as you didn't know exactly what to do or what to expect, crashing your lips together, you tugged at his hair - you loved Joel's hair so much - and felt his rough hands running even more freely through your body. One knee on each side of you, preventing you from moving as he stared down at you, your body being the most beautiful piece of art he'd ever laid eyes on. Joel Miller was a man sinking deep further into his passions and he couldn't even hide it or pretend it otherwise. His mouth went for your neck, then down your collarbone, your breasts, so beautiful and tempting as they'd always been, time he'd been so kind to you, and now he appreciated it. He kissed your breasts gently at first, getting to your nipples, they were always so hard and sensitive and it was all for him. Lips wrapping around them, his tongue flicking then gently as you tugged even harder and pulled his curls gently. The way Joel made you feel was always something else, it was so stupid to try to fight that, at least while you were pinned down by his strong, sexy body. When he finally let go of your breasts, he kept moving his tortuous path south down you. His lips were dancing over your stomach, he loved that part of you and had lost track of how many times he'd daydreamed about your figure looking round while you carried his baby Miller inside. He enjoyed picturing it, another life coming out of you, a baby that would be half you and half him, that would bring Sarah the title of ‘big sister’ and seal the happy ending of your story in which you would become Mrs.Miller once more, for real and above all for the rest of your lives. Deep down he knew that wouldn't go further than a simple fantasy, something to lose himself in before falling asleep before bed every night, and yet, it always brought him such joy, comfort and affection within his body, and at that moment, when he was kissing your womb, his hands holding you legs spread as he took his time in kissing and nibbling your lower stomach, he closed his eyes and made that irrational wish, practically, that wouldn't do, not in real life, not with your history weighing heavily on the two of you, nor with your life styles that were so different from each other's. He worked too much, Sarah was already growing into a teenager, you were inexperienced at that matter at the same time he was getting older and was certain that having to watch a baby and later on a toddler would absolutely kill his back. But if it was so impractical, it should be so sweet at the same time. It would be a lot easier for him to keep those stupid thoughts out of his mind. When Joel got closer to your core, you wanted to tell him to stop, to remind him that you didn't use protection at all and you'd been missing up the pills, warn him there was maybe some probability of you both making that situation even more of a mess than it already was, but the words died out in your mouth, the moment Joel's eyes matched yours, the pool of brown warmth making your heart skip a beat at the same time he parted your legs, giving your inner thighs each a love bite, and your breathing accelerating once more in the anticipation of what was about to happen.

“Relax, baby girl” he purred against your skin, he was so close to your core you could feel his breath fanning your sensitive area, his hands gripping the outside of your legs in a way it was clear he was claiming his power over you. You were about to be devoured by a hungry man and at that, your heart raced like no other, just as Joel reached you.

His lips ghosted over your slit, loving how shaky and sensitive you were at that moment, head shoved between your legs he took his hands into action, using them to spread your lips wide and groaned in approval of how sexy that view was. Ever since you married Joel, being intimate with your husband was something normal and natural, expected even, and whereas you weren't a prude by any means, the way Joel touched you or how filthy that mouth could be always made you go red from head to toes, especially when he simply stopped at stared at your body like that.

“Fuck baby, you still got the same pretty pussy I remember, it's the best one I've ever seen, you taste so fucking good, this sweet clit of yours had always made my mouth water” he teased as you could barely hear his voice through the adrenaline making all that blood pumped so loud into your ear. He spread your pussy lips open, his cock was already twitching to see your cunt twitching for him. The way your clit twitched in anticipation and your hole clenched at the air, how your wetness simply pooled in your entrance and it was all for Joel, because of Joel and he wasn't going to waste another minute before having you. You closed your eyes the moment he kissed your clit, kissing it as he would with your lips, all you could do was whimper and once more grip your hands into his hair pulling his head against your pussy, wanting more and more. At your touch, Joel stopped playing around, he simply sank his face into you, devouring you, licking, suckling and flicking your sensitive clit, lapping at your juices so hungrily, like a madman having his favorite meal. Joel's hands were large and his fingers were thick, so the moment he inserted two digits inside, you were already filled with him, the way he ate your pussy and fingered you, the knot forming down your lower belly, you barely had time to warn him, but it wasn't necessary, Joel knew your body well enough to know you were cumming, getting so nice and ready for him he continued, until you exploded into an intense and long orgasm, in which he tried to make it last for you as much as he could.

After your bliss, it didn't take very long for him to slip inside, now that you were all wet and stretched for him, you wrapped your legs around his waist and closed your eyes in pleasure. Your nails scratching down his broad back, his skin warm and sweaty on top of you. You wanted more of him, at that moment that was you favorite place in the world, primal, obscene, his grunts into your ear as he fucked you like he would any whore. At that moment you couldn't hold back your desires, your lustful thoughts took the best of you. If Joel asked you to be his personal cum dumpster, you would say yes. And at that realization, he came inside, once more, just like he did the night before and you loved it.

Suddenly the exhaustion took over you, your body and your thoughts and it seemed like an impossible task to keep your eyes open.

“Sleep, baby girl, relax” Joel whispered against your ear once more, pulling you closer, the two of you appreciating the lovely bliss you shared after your orgasms. It felt right, even if it shouldn't.

•••

When Joel woke up that morning for the second time with you tangled in his arms, he smiled at himself, wondering how lucky a motherfucker like himself could actually be. The past hours replayed in his mind, over and over, and he still didn't believe they were true, simply because they were too good to be true in the first place, still the reminders of how true it all had been were there: the pink fading lines you left all over his skin were still apparent, your clothes scattered around the bedroom floor, the way your hair invaded his pillow and now you smell lingered all over his bedsheets. It was real, and he couldn't be happier. Watching as you exhaustively slept, he dragged himself out of bed, not really wanting to leave but knowing he needed to start his day somehow. So he just planted a soft kiss on your forehead and headed to shower before going downstairs, as he needed to get breakfast ready for his girl.

You on the other hand, slept without even noticing you, being so exhausted after another steamy session with Joel; when you woke up nearly an hour later, you felt his side of the bed empty and for a split second you sighed disappointed at the impression it'd been just a dream, which only lasted until you could feel that bittersweet soreness between your legs, the mess Joel's room was in and how sticky you were with sweat and some of your juices mixed up together. You bit your lips and giggled, you thought you'd wake up full of regret, feeling guilty and upset about what happened, but turns out you felt great, perhaps, all you needed to decrease that upsetting feeling of melancholy you often grew inside was a good fuck provided by the best man you'd ever tried.

You yawned big and stretched, getting up and feeling that familiar sting between your legs, a reminder of Joel's virility and size. As you weren't sure what to do or where Joel could be, or even worse: if Sarah was home at all, you decided to be as silent as possible, your wish was just getting dressed and going downstairs, but the moment you saw your reflection in the mirror you knew you had to shower. It didn't take too long to find Joel's bathroom, you got yourself under the shower stream, groaning at how your muscles relaxed under it, the way the knots on your hair seemed to undo themselves. You chuckled while soaping your body in Joel's soap, shampooing your hair with his shampoo, smelling entirely like him, as if he'd marked you like an animal would. Perhaps you shouldn't enjoy this obscene thought as much as you did, but at that point that ship had sailed and you couldn't care less about it. Stepping outside the shower, you dried yourself and went through Joel's drawers just enough to find something comfortable to wear - one of his boxers and an old shirt.

“Joel?!” You called him at the top of the stairs, hoping you two were still alone there, as you really didn't want to risk being seen in those - lack of - clothes by Tommy or god forbid, Sarah.

“In here” Joel replied, his voice coming from the kitchen and as soon as you got downstairs you were hit by the delicious smell of coffee, and just as your stomach growled in hunger you realized you couldn't even remember your last meal.

You followed the delicious smell and smiled when you saw him flipping a bunch of pancakes, frowning softly at the image, it was so odd to see Joel being so domestic, cooking breakfast when in reality, you were the one who usually got to do all the cooking and chores, not to mention the choice of menu for the breakfast.

“You don't like pancakes!” you said surprised as you approached the stove to confirm if you weren't seeing things, being surprised by the way Joel wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer, greeting you with a peck on the lips, which you didn't expect but you couldn't complain either.

“I don't, but you do, and you deserve it, baby girl” he stroked your sides as he kept flipping pancakes with his free hand like a damn pro. You could only imagine how many times he had to step in and make his daughter pancakes until he got that skilled at that. You looked at him and as if he'd read your mind, he pecked your forehead this time

“Sarah is at her friend's which means she's only coming in the afternoon, you can hang out, maybe we can grab lunch together and then I'll drive you home, fix your door and all..” he said and stared lovingly at you “if you wanna go, otherwise you can stay here” he winked and made you chuckle.

“Joel, about us, about what happened-”

“Don't do that now, darling, let's not upset ourselves, let's have breakfast together and we can talk about it later”

You could tell Joel was postponing the subject, it was simply inevitable to talk about your future together or lack of it, due to your history, what happened between the two of you should be addressed, and even if you had been as willing as he was, it was a fact you weren't so easy to convince that perhaps being together was a good idea. However, he was also right: you could discuss things later, because at that moment you just wanted to have breakfast with Joel; damage had already been done, so what if you two continued to act the way you were? If anything, if you two parted ways, you would simply still have a nice time to cherish, to balance the ups and downs of your relationship together.

You two walked to the table, Joel placed the pancakes down and got comfortable on the chair, taken by surprise as you simply sat on his lap, instead of taking the seat next to him. You looked at him with a grin and stole a peck from his lips

“What?! You said we should have breakfast first” you giggled and started eating, at the same time his arm wrapped around your frame and he pulled you even closer. You couldn't really complain about that breakfast, it was the best you've ever had in so long, and it had nothing to do with pancakes.

•••

During daylight it was possible to see the damage the thieves left in your home; not only did they steal valuable things, but they also left a trail of mess and dirt through the floors, making you feel so angry at the shit hole they'd left your house. As soon as you got off Joel's truck, you could see cleaning, fixing and buying things again would take a long time, and even if you had the best contractor around town next to you, you still had to do chores. He placed his hands on his waist, furrowing his brows while he scanned the room, thinking of what he should do. You quickly changed into more comfortable clothes, grabbing a mop and a bucket and began cleaning up everything you had to, you reminded Joel he could make himself at home and grab drinks or snacks, since it was the least you could do after he'd been so kind to help you - and fuck you raw morning and night.

Once you'd finished your chores and showered quickly to get rid of the sweat, you went downstairs, looking for Joel. He had fixed a few things here and there, things you hadn't even noticed, but the moment you walked down the stairs, he was fixing your door.

And you were not prepared for that sight, at all.

Not with how Joel's shirt was clinging tight to his body, damp with sweat, the way his jeans looked so good around his thighs and his butt, or how he flexed his biceps unconsciously while he forced the warped wood forwards, the soft grunt he let out and how his huge hand wiped the forehead off his forehead was enough to set your core on fire. You stood there, at the bottom of the stairs, gripping the handrail and wondering when you'd become that thirsty for a man. Even when you had relationships after your divorce, you couldn't remember being that easily turned on, but at that moment, a mere display of Joel's roughness was enough to pool your wetness on your panties. He was just so mainly, so strong, something primal and intense about that man's body, he was different from any man you'd met, and the years only added to it, you were so tired of fighting your urges and feelings. Yes, Joel had been the worst husband a woman could've asked for, but just because you wanted to crazily ride on his cock, it didn't mean you would have to marry him again, definitely not. Joel wasn't a good husband, but he was a damn fine lover.

“I didn't see you there” you jumped at Joel's voice, distracted by it as he snapped you out of your lustful thoughts, nodding at him and smiling nervously. He cleared his throat “I'm guessing you want to talk, don't you?” There was a slight hint of disappointment in his voice and you thought for a while

“Yeah, we need to talk, just… take a seat, I'll get you some water” you pointed at your couch and disappeared into the kitchen, finding Joel standing still when you returned with a fresh bottle of water for him. He hadn't moved, something inside of him telling him not to, some kind of superstition, that maybe if he sat down he would go back to the poor reality of his life, a life without you, your touch, your caress. As long as he stood up, he could always find something to do around your home and then spend a little longer by your side. He took the bottle with a nod in gratitude and took a big sip of it, at the same time it seemed you were watching an erotic movie just by the way your body reacted to the image of his neck, the way his veins pumped as he swallowed his water, showing his thirst, and to think just a few hours before he was eating your pussy with the same ferocity, made you press your thighs together. You needed that man, and you were going to have him, no matter what. To hell with needing to have a serious chat, to move on with your life and not forgetting the past, you needed him carnally. Joel finished his water and finally walked to your couch, taking a seat and spreading his legs, just like he often did to find a comfortable position. You hated when men did that, taking up space and being rude, but not Joel, the way he did it was hot, it reminded you of how big he was, his long legs, big, strong thighs, so perfect to ride, and his frowny face, you could tell he was worried, probably thinking you would just thank him for the help, tell him what happened between the two of you couldn't happen again and ask him to leave. Hiding the heartbreak under his mean face, little did he know that conversation would have to be postponed, because your mouth was about to be too busy to talk.

“You want to talk, right?” He asked, nervously running his hands through his jeans, watching as you took another step closer and nodded.

“Yeah, but we can't talk right now… I'd rather use my mouth for something else” you winked at him, falling onto his knees and began caressing his thighs over his rough jean, smirking at his surprised face, hands fiddling his pants as you opened his fly and bit your lips

“I need your cock now, Joel, I need you in my mouth”

He was taken aback by your sudden change of behavior, he'd sat down expecting to be told to leave, but now he had you on your knees begging for his cock and that was something he couldn't deny. His left hand gripped your hair, tilting your head up a little, while his right hand stroked your cheek gently, his thumb ghosted over your lips, tracing an invisible path on it as he nodded. Suddenly, roles were reversed: he wasn't waiting for you to stop and decide what he should do, instead, he was in charge and he was about to make you choke on his cock.

“So pretty, baby girl…” Joel's voice wasn't much more than a whisper “you want my cock, don't you? Just like a filthy little slut, you wanna choke on it? Want my cum down your pretty throat?”

All you could was nod at his filthy words, Joel's mouth could drive any woman inside without any physical touch, just his dirty choice of words was enough to cause a turmoil of feelings and increase the pool in your panties. He lifted his hips and pulled his pants down, freeing his cock, already hard and held it by the base, while you licked your lips. You could see his tip glistening and closing your eyes as Joel rubbed his tip against your lips, before you opened it and took his cock into your mouth. Joel threw his head back and groaned in pleasure, he could feel his balls quivering while both hands flew to your hair, gripping it as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft, your hand squeezing and stroking his cock up and down where you couldn't reach his length. You'd always loved Joel's groans, the way he sounded so voracious, you clenched your thighs together, trying to give your throbbing clit some sort of relief. He guided you through his blowjob, he hadn't gotten a good one like that in years; of course he'd had his affairs, nightstands and such, but no mouth in the world compared to yours at all. He praised you, reminded you were his favorite cock slut and he wouldn't have any other than you.

You could feel by the way he clenched in your mouth his release was close, he was about to unload and you wanted to swallow all of him. So you continued, even when Joel tried to lift your head gently and warn you, you didn't need any warnings, you simply continued blowing him until he was cumming into your mouth. He reached his orgasm with another grunt, at the same time you worked your magic and swallowed every single drop of him. The way his cock pulsed inside of your mouth, how his breathing got rapid, his chest raising up and down at a fast pace, it was the sexiest thing you'd ever seen. Joel Miller was a strong, manly man, and you loved it.

He finally rested his eyes on you, his hell and heaven on earth, and he just needed more of you, convinced that whatever he had of you just wasn't enough. He helped you up, then pulled you to his lap, making you squeak in surprise as you landed right on top of him. You rested your forehead against his, while he pressed your body closer, never wanting to let go. He pulled you for a kiss, your lips tasting like him, sent Joel another wave of lust and need; he kissed your neck, his hands fiddling with your clothes, getting rid of them as he wanted you bare for him, your body on his, naked; he wanted to take you inside your house, not just some dirty, rushed secret locked in his room, but instead, claim you in any room of your home, if you ever wanted to break with him and decide he shouldn't be part of your life any longer, then at least he would leave his mark knowing each time you walked into any room, you would think of him, reminded of the time Joel fucked you and emptied himself inside of your tight juicy cunt.

“Come on, darling, ride my cock” his rough voice commanded you at the exact time Joel's hand pulled your shorts and your panties down. He went for your ass, massaging it, squeezing your cheeks and slapping it a couple of times, seeing it wiggle softly

“You're so fucking hot, you know that, sugar? Only you can make my cock throb the way you do” he praised you. His fingers traveled to your cunt, caressing it for the second time that day, making you spread your legs as wide as you could over him. He stroked your clit, feeling your arousal pooled in your entrance, it was intoxicating to him, he needed you every single day for the rest of his life. He gripped your hips, helping you lift yourself up and as held his cock in place and sank down onto it.

“Just like that, gorgeous, take that cock baby girl” he praised you.

You spent the rest of your afternoon riding Joel on your couch, not giving a single shit if any of the neighbors could see it through the curtains or the mere fact Joel had given you the worst heartbreak of your life; you needed him as much as he needed you, and it seemed neither of you could let go.

•••

The following days went by exactly the same way they usually did: you either worked from home or you went to the office a few times a week, you went grocery shopping, led a quiet, normal life, received Sarah's visits almost daily with the exception you were also seeing her dad without her having any idea. In fact, no one apart from you and Joel knew what was going on, and neither of you had any intention of changing that. Being completely honest, you should have broken things up with Joel the morning after, but each time you decided to do so, you simply couldn't get it done, the mere thought of standing in front of Joel and asking him to stay away from you was devastating, even if you turned to your memories of the day you found out Joel was in love with Angela and didn't want to be with you any longer couldn't help you. Of course they were as painful as if they were fresh, but at the same time it also felt like it happened between two completely different people rather than you and Joel. It was so difficult to process that Joel and your current Joel were the same, because deep down your heart claimed they weren't; the Joel you were constantly hooking up with was a hardworking, a great father, he was caring, sweet, he was passionate and he treated you as if you were the best thing he'd ever seen in the whole world. He'd become a closed man to relationships due to the guilt he felt for treating you the way he did and the abandonment he suffered from Angela. As much as that sounded twisted, the fact you were both abandoned by people you loved, also brought you closer, especially because he got to know exactly how you felt, which increased his guilt. It was terrible, but he was aware he was probably going to carry that for the rest of his life; even if he watched you smile and laugh, or if you wrapped your arms around him, underneath the joy and excitement he felt within, there would always be a tad of guilt just like a bitter taste in his mouth, reminding him of his coward attitude and how much better than him you truly were. As you had told Joel while you still hadn't crossed the line of how far your relationship should go, the problem wasn't the fact he fell in love with Angela, that could've happened to anyone, even if the sting of rejection hurt, being tricked and lied to was way worse than that. Even if it was hard to recover from the pain - if you had even recovered at all, after all, more than a decade went by without you being able to have a commitment to anyone, unable to stay in a relationship for more than other a few months, - you could only imagine Joel's experience was even worse; not only his relationship with Angela ended, but she also cut her ties with her own baby daughter. The disappointment he felt to realize his daughter would have to grow up without her mom, the paralyzing fear of being on his own to raise a baby, must've been intense. And even if some people could actually laugh at how funny life can be and swear there was still some kind of divine justice lurking around and he was simply paying for everything he'd done to you, you couldn't find the amusement in that situation, it was so sad, you could only feel pity. It seemed to you the years had turned Joel into a silent companion of pain, and not so much into the villain you'd projected onto him.

And all that was only the rational side of the story, because if you left it all to your feelings and desires, you wouldn't be able to leave his bed. Perhaps you were both feeling an overloaded amount of everything you had repressed for each other over the years; being able to externalize it was addictive, at first it was thought to be an inch you both needed to scratch, but soon enough it became obvious it was way more than that, which caused you to fall into his arms whenever you tried to make things easier for the two of you and simply let this condemned relationship go.

As you closed your laptop and watched Sarah's brows furrowing at the paper in front of her, in a mixture of focused and cranky for not being able to solve another math problem easily, she reminded you of Joel and how he would get the same way and have the same expression whenever he got frustrated with something not going according planned. You gently placed your hand on top of hers and offered her a reassuring smile, Sarah had had her nails done by you earlier, proud to see how pretty the sparkly color got on contracts with her skin. She was such a beautiful girl and you enjoyed being able to help her discover that, by introducing simple things like that, which meant the world to her, since she didn't have a mom around, it was nice doing stuff like that with someone experienced who could give her advice on school, friends and boys. She really appreciated it and if it were for Sarah, she would find a way to set you up with her dad and become one small family.

“you should have a break, you've been stuck in this question for a long time, try again later” you advised her and even if she sighed in a gruff way, - again, so Joel Miller coded - she nodded, closing her notebook and checking up her nails discreetly, which brought a warmth into your heart.

“So…” you started, hoping you would sound convincing enough and not raise any kind of suspicions from her, after all, that girl was smart “...you told me your dad is coming to pick you up, right? When he does, invite him inside so you guys can have dinner with me” you suggested, even if you and Joel had already agreed on it. You hadn't been able to see each other in a few days let alone touch each other, which was actually what you both really wanted, so all the options you got were texting like a bunch of horny teenagers. Now, sending nudes to a guy was something you would strongly disagree several months ago, but now? Each time your phone buzzed, you rushed to it, in hopes to get yet another picture of Joel's big hand holding his cock by its base, so you could lock yourself in any room and pull down your bra and panties, exactly the way he liked it. So spending some time around Joel even if you both had to play it cool was better than nothing. Sarah agreed but still felt a little puzzled at your suggestion.

“Alright… but why? You're regretting saying no when I tried to set you up?” She chuckled and you rolled your eyes, hoping you weren't so obvious. You moved to the kitchen and invited her to come along, so she could help you with dinner. You opened the fridge and had your back to Sarah, while you picked the meat and the vegetables.

“No, it's just that your dad was so nice to me, he fixed my front door after the break in, it would be a nice way to repay” you said “why do you even say that?”

“I think dad has a girlfriend or something…” she shrugged and you stopped, looking at her and trying to control the shock over your face.

“Y-yeah? And how do you know it?”

“Well, dad's different now, he seems happier, more cheerful, he's very often texting on his phone…”

“And what do you think of that?”

“It's nice, I guess” Sarah licked her lips “dad deserves to be happy, he's been lonely for a long time, ever since my mom left…” she said “but uncle Tommy says dad was sad before that, apparently there was another girl before mom, it didn't work between them or dad made her go away, I don't know why, but uncle Tommy told me once that even when he was with my mom, he couldn't forget about her an-”

“What happened then?” Only after you said it you realized you interrupted Sarah and sounded a little crazy, she didn't understand why you were so into that story after all, but seeing how eager you were to hear the ending of it, she continued.

“Well, according to uncle Tommy dad never forgot that girl, but she was way out of his league by the time my mom had left, so my dad sort of gave up dating” she shrugged “then my dad got home and interrupted uncle Tommy when he was about to tell me the full story, and he never spoke about it since” she replied with a simple shrug and pointed at the meat you were about to roast

“Hey, that's my dad's favorite!” She said amused at the coincidence of menus which you knew damn well that wasn't a coincidence, but your treat to Joel. As you kept cooking with Sarah's help, you also thought about the story she'd told you, too many things happening at once: finding out Joel had never forgotten you while his daughter was sure he had a mysterious girlfriend, which of course, was also you.

During dinner, you tried your best to forget about all of that, the way Joel and Sarah fit so well in that scene, the three of you at the table, eating and sharing how your days had been seemed like a beautiful painting of a perfect little family. A portrait of what things could've been like, or should have been like, and you enjoyed it, you couldn't deny it at all. Your gaze met Joel's and you shared a smile, silently agreeing you were spending a family time; you wondered if some day that would actually happen and if you would indeed be a family with Joel, sometimes you thought you would like it, and sometimes you would brush it off as some momentary lapse. But when he reached for your hand under the table and held it, caressing your knuckles with his thumb, your heart raced one more time and you couldn't help but allow yourself to picture a life by his and Sarah's side.

When you were all finished, Joel gladly dismissed his daughter from having to help with the dishes and the moment you two noticed she was fairly entertained with the new books you'd bought, he stole a kiss from you. It was quick but sweet and as much as it left you all giggly and blushing, it wasn't enough. Your need for Joel was overpowering, it was addictive, and you needed to touch him. Nothing would happen between the two of you while Sarah stood just a few feet away, Joel would never risk being caught that way, he respected his daughter too much, but he would kill to have his hands all over your body. He thought of asking you on a escapade with him, but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea, not with Sarah being a little suspicious of how friendly you were acting towards each other. He wondered if he could actually call you his girlfriend, if he could admit he was dating you, because that's what it felt like, but then, if you both came clean about the situation, it would get complicated, not only for him because of Sarah, but he was well aware you would be in a tricky situation with your family, since he knew for a fact your parents hated him, - with plenty reasons to do so - eventually, you would two would have to have the talk. Now, Joel didn't fear not being with you any longer, he knew that wouldn't happen, you were as attached to him as he was to you, but eventually, you would have to define that situation. He knew he could be cold and distant, but it was so damn hard for him to hide his passion, the way he leaned against the doorframe and watched as you carefully put the dishes away, looking every bit of sexy as you could be, not that young and naive little wife he kept at home before he screwed things up, but instead, the powerful, beautiful woman you grew to be.

Sarah was incredibly smart, but she was also naive at some level, which caused her to be oblivious to the fact you called Joel into the backyard at some point, asking him to check something up you wanted it fixed, only to pull him closer and kiss him deeply, gripping his body, wanting him to engulf you like he always did, your nails gently scratching down his back while his lips ravished yours.

“I want to spend the night with you so bad, baby girl” he whispered against your lips “you're so good to me, you treat Sarah like a princess, you cooked us my favorite meal, all I want is to show my gratitude by getting lost between these beautiful thighs” he teased and for a split second you felt like telling him to stay the night, to come clean and tell Sarah you were dating, dating as if you two were pretty much a decade younger and so eager to be in each other's arms, but it couldn't happen that way, not like that, and not at that moment. You nibbled his bottom lip a couple of times before letting go, your body tingled for him, aching for his touch and as he told you he would call Sarah to go home, you felt unannounced tears flooding your eyes for no reason. Why did things have to be so complicated, why Joel couldn't have been this good from the beginning? You could've lived more than a decade of happiness together, if it weren't for that.

As they said their goodbyes, you watched Joel's truck disappear from your eyesight, a pang in your chest insisting on saying it was your family leaving while you played too hard to get.

•••

You had never seen Sarah smile that wide as she did while you two walked around the mall; side by side, a bunch of bags in hands as you spent such a simple, and yet incredible quality time together. For her, it was like hanging out with the mom she never had, and you felt as if you were shopping around for the daughter you could never conceive. It didn't matter where you were going, which stores you were checking and not even exactly what you were buying, just the fact you were doing that together felt incredibly special. It all began when Sarah complained about not having what to wear to the Harry Styles concert in the upcoming week; after months of begging her dad and uncle Tommy, she was given a ticket to the presentation she'd been dreaming of watching, under the condition she wasn't going to drag her dad along. Joel was an amazing dad, and he would do almost about anything for her, but standing in line for hours and then having to watch that guy performing while an entire stadium of hysterical teenage girls would be screaming at the top of their lungs which would probably cause Joel to go deaf in his good ear was a hard pass, that he wouldn't do. In fact, he would. The moment she gave him her puppy eyes and asked him to take her, he would do it, even if he tried tricking himself, however, luck seemed to be standing by his side, as Tommy happened to start dating this chick who was also obsessed with that Harry guy and when she got herself and Tommy a ticket, Sarah was all set. And so was Joel, because without anyone knowing, he managed to get a free night with you. And in the blink of an eye, you and Joel seemed way more excited for the Harry Styles concert than Sarah.

So when she complained she didn't actually have anything nice to wear, you thought of doing that for her, it would be fun, a change of just staying inside reading books, you could spend some girl time together and while you were out with her, you could really watch Sarah, the way she behaved, how she talked and acted, it reminded you so much of Joel, you wondered if she'd taken anything from Angela at all, deep inside, you wish she didn't, even if it was a petty thing to do. The idea of Sarah being similar only to her dad was nothing but comforting and sweet to you, it was the easiest way to see the evolution he went through, unfortunately, he had to learn how to be a better person through the pain, but he had succeeded and that was what it really mattered. You didn't really care if you'd spent a lot on Sarah, you had the money after all, and she deserved it. She was happy, talking excitedly about several things, to the point she barely noticed when Joel walked towards the two of you. He had his jacket on, hair a little messy from the wind as he grinned shyly at the sight of you, his heart skipping a beat as it felt to him he was meeting his daughter and wife at the mall.

Sarah frowned, amused to see her dad, walking towards him, she hugged him, which surprised Joel a little, not expecting that gesture at that very moment.

“What are you doing here, dad?” She asked curiously as Joel greeted you by giving you a peck on the cheek, trying so hard not to seem he was practically drooling over you.

“Tommy needed to buy his girlfriend whatever and asked me for a ride, so while he disappeared into the crowd I was trying to find him” he explained and stared at you “you girls are having fun, I see?” He raised his eyebrow and Sarah eagerly nodded, lifting her bags a little and showing him everything you'd bought her. He was so thankful for everything you were doing for his daughter, especially because he was sure you did it out of kindness and the fact you care about her. You watched their interaction and bit your lips in anticipation, you felt a sudden urge to kiss Joel in front of everyone and walk around the mall holding hands with him, you had never discussed that before, but the thought of it made your heart race. Sarah exchanged a few words with her dad before her eyes went wide as she spotted one of her best friends a couple of stores ahead and smiled big

“Dad, can I go show Nat the things I got? Please?! I'll be right back!” She asked with her sweet eyes and Joel agreed, telling her you two would be around as he intended to keep you company. As you walked towards another store with Joel following you, Sarah soon got entertained with her friend in an ice cream booth nearby. You both chuckled at the scene and he quickly placed his hand on the small of your back.

“Is Tommy really shopping around for his girlfriend or were you just stalking us?” You teased Joel, entering the lingerie store, earning a gasp from him before he could actually answer your question.

“Don't even think about it, Miller, I'm here just to buy some sports bra to go to the gym and nothing more” you added but the mischievous look in his eyes was extremely well-known.

“That's a shame, because this one would look so good on you” he pointed at a lilac lacey pair of underwear, his mouth watering at how beautiful you would certainly get in it, and how stripping you out of all that lace would feel like unwrapping a Christmas gift. You frowned at him, reminding him you were just there to buy a couple of things and leave, in fact, you shouldn't have even let Joel get inside the store with you, it wouldn't be appropriate and how would he explain to Sarah what the hell he was doing there in the first place. Joel, on the other hand, was pretty much entertained by all the beautiful colors and shapes the tiny pieces of fabric came with; he could picture every inch of your body in them, trying to guess which ones would look better. He knew all of them would be just perfect, but he was a guy who was simply drawn to the traditional good old red lacey; it was gorgeous, and it would be a nice gift for the two of you. As he looked around to find you and show you what he'd decided to treat you to, you were nowhere to be seen; the sales clerk already busy with the new customers walking into the store, he decided to wander after you. He was thankful no one seemed to mind nor notice him there, too worried to be seen as a creep, but determined to find you nonetheless; as he got to the fitting room area, he quickly called your name.

“What now, Joel?!” You immediately replied from the one in the corner, slightly annoyed at the fact he'd followed you there, sometimes Joel was a little like a stray puppy, coming after you with those big sad brown eyes, and even if you wanted to shop for freaking sports bras on your own, you couldn't help but enjoy the fact he was just so needy of you.

When Joel opened the door and got inside, you even tried to argue and ask him what the heck he was doing there, but instead, he smirked, gripping your sides and kissing you as a way to keep you silent. You wanted to push him away and tell him to fuck off, but the rushing adrenaline you felt through your veins made you feel alive, and as always, Joel's touch set you on fire. He broke the kiss dragging his lips over to your neck and then your collarbone, his hands climbing up your sides and going to your breasts, squeezing them softly

“This sports bra ain't bad, but I'd say a work of art like your body should have more lace, or glitter or whatever shit you like” he said in a grunt and lowered your top, even against your protests that weren't much more than just some whimpers that couldn't convince you, let alone Joel. You could feel his beard scratching down your chest and going straight to your breasts, lips wrapping around your nipples as he suckled on it gently at first, flicking it with his tongue before moving to your other breast and working the same magic. Your heart raced to the point you could feel your blood rushing through your ears, the fact you both could be caught at any moment and kicked out of the store, or even worse: be arrested for public indecency, added a hint of fear to the traditional lust you had for Joel; that man would be the dead of you, that much you were sure of.

“We can't Joel…” you mumbled against his curls, his head on your chest as his fingers found their way down your belly, getting so close to your sweet spot, he was so needy of you, wanting all of you to the point it felt he would go crazy. His digits toyed with the hem of your panties, while you pulled his curls a little, making him groan.

“Sorry honey” you whispered and kissed this temple, which made him smile. Joel was about to finger you in a fitting room in the middle of a store and you were so sweet to him, it made his heart ache a little, at the realization he definitely didn't deserve you. He kissed you once more and nibbled your lower lips the moment his fingers reached your core, spreading your lips apart and finding your needy clit, already so hard and wet, just for him to enjoy. He wasn't going to tease you, you both didn't have time for it, so instead, he played with your wetness, before shoving his fingers inside of you, stretching you up the way you both knew and enjoyed it, he thumbed with your clit before focusing all his ministrations into your tight cunt, feeling your muscles squeezing and clenching around him. He'd kill to have his cock inside of you instead of his fingers, but that would have to wait. He felt your teeth on his shoulder, while your pussy gushed at the same time you came for him. He felt your body going limp, sustaining your weight with his free hand

“Taste yourself, princess” he whispered against your ear and held his fingers up, waiting for you to wrap your devilish lips around them and lick them clean. Joel felt the urge to take you right there and then, but he was a patient man and knew things would have to wait. He kissed your lips goodbye and exited the fitting room after making sure no one was around to see him.

The sales clerk was a little confused when she saw Joel walking towards the register with a blood red pair of lacey lingerie, she couldn't remember seeing him walk into the store and let alone hang around, but the work policy forced her to smile at him and be helpful, especially when he got his wallet out and extended his credit card.

“I'd like you to gift wrap this and give it to the beautiful lady who's trying sports bra in the fitting room, tell her it's my treat” he winked at the woman, aware he could use his charms in his own favor. She agreed to his request and he left the store just like any other ordinary customer, at the same time you received the package as a present the moment you tried paying for your stuff.

•••

After waiting what it seemed like forever, the Harry Styles concert was about to happen, which caused Joel to have a break from his brother, his girlfriend Maria and Sarah, who insisted they all spend hours waiting in line. His heart was full of joy and pride to see how happy his precious daughter was, the way she could barely sleep at night and that guy was the only thing she ever talked about. It was amusing to him, even if he ran out of patience from time to time, it was amazing to see his little girl looking like a beautiful young woman in her new outfit bursting with happiness. Joel couldn't also complain about the fact he managed to enjoy a full day by himself and get ready to receive you through the night. He'd gone grocery shopping, buying all the kinds of treats he knew you loved - or used to, as people could often change their personal taste over the years, but instead of seeing that with sadness, he felt glad to be able to learn something new about the woman he was madly in love with. He was going to go for some beer, but Joel thought again and decided to pick some wine, he just thought you were more of a wine kind of woman, more elegant than just cheap beer.

What you both hadn't counted on, was how hot the weather was, even if the sun had set down, it was still uncomfortable to remain inside, which made Joel suggest you both should move your date night to the swimming pool. At first you thought he was joking, but the stern look on his face told you he was being completely serious, and you thought it was a nice change. The way Joel took the bottle of wine, the glasses and simply began undressing without a word made you puzzled, until he turned around and told you to take off your clothes as well.

One skinny-dipping adventure and a quicky in his pool later, you both took sips of your wine, as you pressed yourself against him; Joel's arms were tight around your body as you rested your head on his chest, kissing it gently, and listening to his heartbeats, it was scary how out of the sudden, his arms became your favorite place in the world. You were far too deep into this story, and there was no way out without getting hurt, but that wasn't the time to think of that, you didn't want to have those kinds of thoughts, you wanted to spend your time with Joel and get lost into him, just as he was into you.

“Sarah told me you have a girlfriend” you blurted out, making Joel raise his eyebrow at you and looking down at you

“What?!”

“Well, she said you seemed happier lately, always texting someone, sneaking out here and there…” you chuckled “I wonder who that bitch is” Joel laughed at your comment, his hand sliding down your back and resting on your ass, squeezing it and then pecking your lips.

“She ain't no bitch, I can assure you that much” he said gently and nuzzled your neck “she's gorgeous, she's the best thing that's ever happened to me, well, after Sarah, of course, but still, and she was so kind to forgive me after everything I've done” his lips were back on your cheek and then on your lips “and I love her very much”

For a moment your whole world stopped. Joel loved you. He admitted it out loud, it wasn't just a matter of simple assumptions, but rather a concrete, explicit feeling. You opened your mouth looking at him hesitantly, what exactly should you say? What could you tell Joel? Did you love him back? If so, were you ready to admit it and face the consequences of getting back together with the man who caused the biggest emotional trauma of your life. Joel took his hands off your body and looked at you with a hint of disappointment, even if he didn't want to admit it, he was disappointed, he thought you shared the same feeling as he did, so he sighed and nodded.

“It's fine, you don't have to say it back…” he cleared his throat and swam to the ladder of the pool “it's getting a little chilly, I think we should get inside”

•••

A few days later, your conversation with Joel simply wouldn't leave your mind; you were in love with him, it was impossible for anyone not to notice, him included, and yet, you didn't understand why it was so hard for you to simply admit it. Perhaps, if you did it, then it would become real, and your relationship with him would stop being a fun, little secret shared by the two of you, but rather a concrete relationship between two adults, where you'd eventually have to come clean and open up to family, friends, you would celebrate birthdays and holidays, anniversaries and face several, typical questions coming from all sides, wondering if you would both remarry or have kids. It was overwhelming, but not as bad as how you were feeling at that moment. You felt guilty and embarrassed, and the paranoid side of you was convinced Joel had been avoiding you for the past week, whereas Sarah was at your place nearly everyday, still talking about Harry Styles and showing you countless pictures of the concert, he wouldn't text much nor insist to see you, even when you suggested him to sneak out late at night and go to yours, he politely declined by saying Tommy and him got a new big client and work was rushed and soul crushing. Of course he could be telling you the truth, he did sound exhausted on the phone and Sarah had mentioned Joel and Tommy had been arriving late most days, both of them covered in sweat and in such a bad mood due to the unbelievable amount of work they were having. Yet, what should make you feel calm and at ease, didn't help one bit, it was uncomfortable and depressing not having Joel around, you missed him, his touch, his body but mostly his presence. He'd been a constant in your life for the past months, and it was only taking a week for you to feel abandoned. It wasn't fair to you, and yet, it wasn't fair to him either, not when he declared his love for you and you couldn't even say it back. You placed your living room, not sure whether you should drive to his home or not, in fact, you knew you shouldn't, but you wanted to, because that particular day, not even Sarah showed up, and it made you sad. You were so attached to the little family destiny set apart for you, simply a day or two away from them was enough to cause a large wound in your heart. You looked around, looking for an excuse to show up at the Miller's household; until your eyes widened and you grinned to see Sarah's history book lying around your coffee table. It was the perfect excuse to go and see them! Perhaps you could even end up having dinner with them, and then make up an excuse about a flat tire or whatever, have Joel giving you a ride home and end up being railed by him in the back of his truck. The longing for Joel was increasing and all you wanted was to make things right by explaining him you did have feelings for him and you needed some time, but you were willing to make sacrifices in order to be with him, because you wanted to and it was important for you that he saw how appreciated he was by you.

On your way to Joel's, you stopped at a bakery you knew Sarah loved, thinking of all the delicious treats you could take so you'd keep your family spoiled, at least a little. You smiled at yourself the moment you chose a couple of cupcakes, cookies and the chicken pie Joel loved, thinking of how you were already addressing them as your family. The truth is that they were indeed your family, the connection you three had was strong, the bond you created with Sarah without even knowing for a fact who she was and later on all that passion for Joel surfacing after spending a decade buried deep inside of you. It was a waste of time fighting that, and you wanted to get to them as soon as possible, you'd been alone far too long, it was about time to yourself have one good thing, to break free and admit how happy you were next to the Millers. You loved them just as they loved you, and it made no sense to fight that feeling and pretend it didn't exist.

The ride wasn't long, there was hardly any traffic in the suburbs, most families were already inside, having dinner together as the sun had set and the street lights were all lit up, as you parked your car, you saw Joel's truck in the driveway and felt your chest tightening in anxiety and fear; if he was already home why didn't he call or text you? Maybe he was indeed avoiding you?! Joel wouldn't make the same mistake twice and push you away, would he? You shook your head, you had faith in him, faith you both had matured and were able to handle things by talking and being honest with each other; you licked your lips and sighed, knowing that whatever was going on could be solved by the two of you as two functional adults, besides, there were a bunch of explanations to why he hadn't talked to you that day yet, you shouldn't jump to conclusions and let your paranoia win once more. You got out of the car with the bag full of treats and walked to the front door, you knocked a couple of times and waited for an answer but nobody came. It was odd, as you could hear Joel's and Sarah's voices coming from inside, and even if you couldn't tell what they were saying your heart raced, your gut feeling telling you something was up and you couldn't wait any longer, silently opening the door and getting inside. You placed the bag of food down the coffee table as you could clearly hear what they were saying. It seemed Joel and Sarah were arguing, which was extremely odd, since you had never seen them have any kind of disagreement, they just had a real nice and healthy father and daughter relationship in which they both listened to each other and acted with respect. As you approached, you heard Sarah's cries and you were taken by worry, perhaps someone had died? You couldn't wait any longer, you rushed and got into the kitchen, confused at first at what had happened between them, Joel looked so overwhelmed, his face was red and he desperately tried to make a point while telling Sarah a bunch of information she could barely cope with, as she cried in disappointment and shook her head, not believing anything her dad was saying. Her heart was shattered with disappointment and sadness, she couldn't believe her dad, her hero, the man she loved and admired the most in her life had done such a thing.

On the kitchen table, a photograph taken on your wedding day was lying around. A younger version of yourself hugged a much younger Joel as you both stood in front of the courthouse, smiling widely at the camera. There was no way to deny it nor hide it. Sarah had found out about your previous connection god knows how and Joel seemed desperate as he wanted to explain himself to his daughter, he couldn't bear having her so disappointed in him like that, it shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“Sarah…” you whispered and tried touching her cheek, wanting to caress it gently and assure her everything was fine now, that what had happened was in the past and that her dad was still the best father a girl could ever wish for. But Sarah moved her face away from your touch, her eyes were glistening with tears as she seemed so heartbroken

“You both lied to me! Why did you lie?” She asked and you looked at Joel wanting to have some kind of support in order to reply to her question.

“Sarah, we are both sorry, but your dad and I have made up after what happened, I know it's a lot to take now but don't be upset please” you asked her, Joel nodded and wrapped his arm around your waist in order to show her things were fine between the two of you. He promised to talk to her and explain everything to her in detail, but she was just so upset, feeling betrayed by the person she admired and loved the most in the whole world. You knew there was nothing you both could do at that moment, not with Sarah being so nervous and upset, instead, you asked Joel to call Tommy and suggested that he took her out for ice cream or something, maybe have a little chat with his niece while you and Joel could sit down and figure the best way to tell her everything. It didn't take more than twenty minutes for his younger brother to arrive, Sarah had drunk some water and washed her face, leaving with Tommy as you sat next to Joel. You took his hand and caressed it, while he refused to look you in the eye, the guilt and shame once more eating him alive, and now it had become even worse, as his precious little Sarah had found out the truth about him in the worst way possible. All she needed was an old picture for her school project and going through Joel's old memory box should be enough, and then she came across the pictures of his wedding day. Not to her mom, but to you instead, and then it all made sense: why you were never willing to be around her dad, or how you decided to keep yourself away from any kind of relationship. Because the asshole you told her you'd married once, was simply her father. The good old Joel Miller, the man who had to raise his baby daughter on his own after she left him, and then, Sarah had found out her dad had been really bad to someone so dearly to her. You, you could've been married to her dad, you could've been her mom, she could've had a family all along.

You looked at Joel and wiped a single tear that rolled down his cheek, even if he tried to hide it.

“What are we doing now, Joel?”

“I don't know…”

____

A/N: what a ride, right besties? Remember, feedback is life ❤️

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal one shot #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller one shot #joel miller story #pedro pascal story

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fluorynn · 2 months

Text

🩻 — 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐥. 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : lo’ak 〤 omaticayan!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : in which 4 years have passed after the incident. Change was normal to occur, but so was loss and grievance within that change. Change was something that had occurred within the youngest Sully boy when the RDA returned, when he had to flee from home and leave you behind, when the incident happened. When the Sullys returned after two years, Lo’ak instantly seeked for you, yet you’ve noticed he had changed both for the better and worse, and sometimes, most days, it had become for the worst. You’d given him many warnings throughout the year, as both of you have now reached adulthood and have committed to a relationship that at first begun with the constant lovesickness for one another, never ending touches, stolen kisses, but that was when you were mere teenagers, and as time went by, as change and grief and war came upon you, your relationship took a shift. Harsher he became, more reckless, impulsive, ignorant, inconsiderate, yet he promised he’d change for you. After every act and word, he promised to search within himself, within the past to try and find the Lo’ak he once was, the proper mate you deserved soon, the Lo’ak who you adored with your entire soul. Yet if you were to be sincere, you knew that after all these major events that happened to Lo’ak and after the months of not seeing him, he would not be the same, especially after the loss of Neteyam. You wanted to hang onto the sliver of hope, of sanity for yourself, because Lo’ak had not been the only one to have lost something, someone, yet it seemed that everyone always excused him for his behavior, nobody cared, especially Lo’ak. He was constantly out flying, ‘on patrol’, never returning to the hideout the Omaticaya People still had to endure, and his excuses only became more and more unreasonable. His father said the boy’s just under a lot of pressure, Kiri said he’d come around, but Neytiri did not; while she too grief, she too experienced major changes, it did not give her son the excuse to treat you with such heartless behavior. You loved Lo’ak, and you loved him ultimately and beyond compare. You loved him too much however, to the point where it blinded you from seeing the harsh reality that this indeed was not your Lo’ak anymore. The strong substance your people had, he somehow always found a way to consume it, practically reek of it without his family knowing — and you didn’t dare ‘rat’ him out. He wasn’t yours anymore, and every ounce of pain, of grief, of sadness you felt for him soon disintegrated. He was supposed to be your boyfriend, he was supposed to be the one bound to be your mate when the time came. But now, it seemed that he wasn’t suitable for you, and while 14 year old you promised his 14 year old self to never leave, you realized now why promises wound up empty. Everyone reaches a breaking point, and you are now finally acting upon it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 / 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : aged up!lo’ak, ANGST, 18+, thigh riding, fingering, grinding, mild kuru play?, overstimulation, soft!lo’ak, teasing, drinking/alcoholism — lo’ak’s insecure, stubborn, harsh and grieving still but masks it a bit well, reader is slightly sensitive, fed up w him, gives in to one more chance w him tho — italics in dialogue signifies they’re speaking Na’vi!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : pretty long, lol

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 : @bambithewriter @lilghostiequinni @pandoraslxna @avatarloverfrfr @dvxsja @princess-of-thebes-1995 @strongheartneteyam @talanyra

author’s note : Just in my feelings rn, LMAO. Neteyam series prologue will be posted soon ( hopefully….I just want to make sure it’s good and there’s enough but not too much detail to give away what may happen in future chapters — it’s one of those things where I’ve written the following chapters just not the one I should have actually put time in😭 —) but just thought I’d drop this — Lo’ak lovers, rise up! I hope you like it! Please don’t hesitate to comment, reblogs are appreciated! <33

“Good. You are up here.” You’re met with his back facing you mere feet away, the unkempt pattern of his stripes and the tense rise of his shoulders is more than enough for you to know it is him, especially when knowing that this spot is the single one reserved for him. Lo'ak Sully was left in a state of utter bewilderment, a feeling he thought he had long surpassed. Over the years, he had honed and heightened each of his senses to such an extent that no ordinary being could startle him anymore. However, you were no ordinary being, and that was precisely what captivated him. Your ability to consistently surprise and astonish him in unexpected ways kept him constantly alert and intrigued.

He gave a subtle glance to the object in his hold – a minor wooden cup filled to the brim with an alcoholic beverage — naer — one the Na’vi can smell before even spotting it for its scent is strong, vigor. At this point, there is no trying to hide or deny it from you. Even if he did try to throw it off the large branches he sat upon, the scent would be there, reeking around and on him. He had given you the vacant promise to back away from it, or very least try to yet make no effort in doing so. This drink that, while it tips one over for a bit of time, it also deprived feelings you could no longer do. Whatever had happened in his life, each burning drop down his throat and to his mind managed to fix for a minimum amount of time. Of course Lo’ak would not give this up – the opportunity to not feel anything to the bone.

“Your father said you did not show up for your training.” Your tone of voice was deficient of its common disappointment and despair, simply uttering as if you didn’t spare a care for it anymore.

“My father should learn to mind his own business and worry more about leading his People and fixing the damage done from the Sky People.” Lo’ak finally spoke, voice curt and Na’vi language gaining a thickness as he heard your subtle footsteps against branches. “I am not a child anymore.”

“You are right. You are not. But he is still your father, he worries for you. So does your mother.” You reminded him as if it were not known, reaching your spot next to his sitting frame only to spot what you’ve already suspected in his hold, taking in his physical state.

“Yeah well, he shouldn’t. He has no reason to, and neither does she.” His quip made your lips squirm down but said nothing as you observed the drink in his hand, the way his ear flitted from his own words, from your words in adding onto that his mother worries. A quirk settled between your browline but held your tongue for you did not want to start some meaningless quarrel. But Lo’ak could feel the distaste radiating from you, how you’re fighting the urge to scold him for his incapability to uphold his fair share of promises. What he doesn’t understand is why have you not done so?

“You look very pretty. Sevin ( pretty ).” He softly stated.

A small smile was all to be offered — one filled with slight remorse. His legs had been dangling down the edge of the thick lodge of glowing branch, and you pondered on doing the same as you’ve always done since you were children; swinging them above the small lake of water at the same pace he would, teasing him with a light nudge of your foot. But this time was different. Instead, you knelt beside him, knees bent beneath you and slightly tilted your body towards him. Lo’ak’s blazing irises scrutinized you the way he typically does, recognizing the strain your shoulders formed, as if you were on edge because of him. So, he took one more small swig of the liquid before his face started inclining forward to plant a light kiss on your lips. One that was fleeting – everything tied or related to Lo’ak was always fleeting.

Lo’ak’s lips very often suffused your mind from thought, so incongruous from right and wrong.

One moment Lo’ak offered his physical affections and pretty words.

The next, not even a split moment, he was causing you to suffer.

You now pondered where exactly this little act would land the both of you in.

You were the first to retract away from Lo’ak, not wanting to fall into his little patterned act. The kind of act of loving Lo’ak too destructively that overflowed everything with a single touch, and tug you back into him.

“What’s wrong?” He inquired, dark brows quirking.

Your coils lightly sway at the head shake given, yet he knew before you could have a chance to verbally utter the lie. “Lying’s not a good look for you.”

“I am not lying.” You were quick to snip out before you could contain your tone, palms pressing into your thighs that indicated the falseness of your words.

“Right.” His eyes rolled and bit, “There’s something you’d like to say?”

You can’t help but blink a few times. This was an opening, to say what was in your chest. “Srane ( yes ).”

A hum of boredom rang through the air. “Could have just said that then. No need to take the hard way around.” His golden eyes were drawn to the liquid in his hold, watching its faint glow swirl with the light flick of his wrist, and you wondered just how far gone was he. Normally, Lo’ak would have some sort of facade going on, one that’s filled with his now dry jokes and teasing smiles despite the fact that the both of you knew it was just a show. Yet now, he was unfazed of your presence as he brought the cup to his lips, throat bobbing with the largest swings he took.

Perhaps if you were standing, you might’ve tipped over and fallen to your death. He simply saw it written in bold letters right across your face. “I am not here to fight with you.” You quietly started.

“Then don’t.”

An exhale flared your cat-like nose at his crossed tone. “Okay, I will not but I am going to need you to drop whatever tone it is you’re trying to achieve with me.” Lo’ak, despite the abrupt changes spiking in him, was still your Lo’ak, so when he heard your warning, his ears pinned down by the sides of his head and eyes strayed to the ground below as an act of regret. This gave you some sliver of hope.

Not necessarily did you want Lo’ak to be unstable or uncertain with himself, it made you quite content that he’s grown into his fierceness. What was bothersome to you were his drastic changes, and it seemed what once went as two souls that twined perfectly for one another was now misplaced — your presence within his life wasn’t necessary any longer. The intoxication he was constantly washed in came with a smell too strong for your liking, too nauseating, too overwhelming for your senses. Tears swelled up in your eyes, yet you contained them. “I had thought you were going to quit.”

“If we’re speaking truthfully, I told you I'd try.” He corrected, smug voice paired with a stupid smirk.

“Hm, and have you?” You retorted and his brows hitched beneath his two thin cascades of braids. “Have you tried to quit?”

“You’ve got proof that I haven’t?” He shot back. You despised this, despised the person he’d become, despise that he seemed to knew precisely what he was doing and didn’t give two fucks about it.

“Let’s see — there’s Kiri, there’s Spider, oh there’s Tuk who tells me this!” Your voice carried a feign sweetness and surprise, watching how his brows crashed together with your sneered words. “This is the brother you wish for them to see? This is the person you want your future People to see, Lo’ak? Their possible future leader, the Tippling Olo’eyktan?”

“And what the hell is it to you, huh? We already know I’m not suit to be Leader.” His spiking temper was one to shut you up, but you did not fail to notice the light lash his tail made. “You’re not my mom, you’re not Tsahik, and you’re certainly not my mate. I don’t need you worrying over me. And I don’t need your constant annoying questions.” Your body shuddered, more so because of the harshness of his tone rather than the biting air. Your knees dug into the branch’s crippled surface, fingers winding into fists as your eyes quickly looked down. Eywa was witness to the sensitivity you’d gain over the years, the years Lo’ak happened to be in.

“It’s not common for some warm body to ask this much from their future Olo’eyktan either.” He added.

Lo’ak’s words striked you with force, causing you to physically and instinctively recoil from the sharp sting of it. The deep slice within your heart, cleanly tearing into two parts. Perhaps in some pieces, some hindsight, it could have been described as that if you didn’t add onto the fact that the both of you grew up together, the fact that he didn’t have the simplicity of courage to call you by the true title he once proudly uttered you as; his. His bound-to-be mate, his girlfriend.

“A warm body? That is all I am to you?” You questioned, and Lo’ak — pondering whether his mistake was to tell you the definition of those words in human terms or perhaps the true, more common mistake he noticed that was clearly etched in his features — gained regret behind those lax-colored eyes of his. But it was masked, tightly trapped beneath this filthy portrayal of pride, egotistical, brash and reckless man. Not even a man, a boy. “Lo’ak!”

Instead of giving you a proper answer, he threw you a side glance, one filled with provocation. The scoff emerging from your throat was inevitable, and you nodded. If this was how he wished to act, then fine. It will make the forthcoming situation much easier for you then. The only way to get through with this was if you treat him as if he was nothing to you. “We must speak.”

Push through the heartache, the pain, the way it tore you apart. You must start to truly see him for who he was in this present moment.

And what you saw was not your Lo’ak.

Lo’ak was listening, you could tell by how his ears slightly flitted up, but he said nothing. Simply awaiting for you to proceed as he took another sip.

“I…” You felt the affliction that tried clawing its way up your throat, your eyes fixating on the ground and you stayed quiet for a while.

“Just spill it already.”

“I have come to say goodbye, Lo’ak.” His slamming shock is beyond thrilling. You had been seeking, some, any type of sign that would prove Lo’ak’s care for you — and perhaps this was the answer; the high perch of his ears, the broadening of his eyes, the hitched breath. Nonetheless, it was too late. He had created his situation, and now he would have to accept the consequences.

“What do you mean g-goodbye?” He stammered, and the cup was now abandoned and falling to the ground that was far below the both of you.

“Ah, so now you can speak!”

“Enough,” he inhaled deeply. “And answer the question.” The audacity this skxawng had. You are firmer with your words “Srane. Goodbye, Lo’ak.”

“And where exactly are you going? And when exactly were you going to tell me?” He spat out in distaste and disapproval, body fully turning towards you.

“The Tipani Clan.” You responded with an edge of sass. “I am telling you right now, aren’t I?”

His response was immediate, loud and he shook his head despite your answer was to be expected, knowing that one of your deceased parents descended from there. “The Tipani Clan? What about—” He halted his sentence from speaking of himself, of how if you left, you’d be tearing apart from him and taking it with you. But fear of vulnerability halted him from doing so, so instead he dodged it. “What about your duties here? I thought you promised to be here for your People in case the Sky People returned. To help rebuild.”

“Lo’ak, I am telling you that I am leaving and all you care about speaking is duty? Are you serious?” He instead looked away from you, too stubborn to answer, so you said his name again. He ignored you.

“Lo’ak, fucking look at me.” It was the rarity of hearing you speak English and the vulgar word thrown in the mix that caught Lo’ak’s attention, gold orbs flickering to you in an instant and you immediately notice the diversity of emotion pooling them.

“So all that matters to you, is my duty to the Omaticaya? For me to not be here as a fixer upper for them? You only care about that being broken? Is that the only thing that matters in that head of yours?”

No. The response was, should have been a fierce no. You were constantly, always in Lo’ak’s head. He yearned for you extravagantly, and besides staying alive for the sake of his family, you were one of the few things he could find himself caring for. There would be many cold and curt swears to never trust, to never care or love after losing someone who not only qualified as a good mate, but a loving one, is what Lo’ak thought, he knew it. If you left him — when you left him, he would be done with it, with the twinge of good, of hope. He’d be completely shut off from ever seeking a mate to be bonded with under Eywa’s will, he would not care of continuing the legacy of his name despite him now being the only son. His heart, the heart you once saw as fearless and strong, would be guarded by much thicker, massive walls, and that small space would only become constricted by the waves of his tears. While you were everything to him, you were not sufficient enough to spare him the grief. At least not alone.

While he has grown, while he has sculpted his abilities and became nearly as mighty as his big brother, under all that was still a broken, hurt boy filled with guilt. He could not allow himself to get rid of that part of himself. He could not shed enough tears to move past everything that happened, that he had seen and lost.

Lo’ak loved you, he was deeply in love with you. And perhaps another thing that has changed was that he could not depend everything on you, and instead needed other things, distractions despite it being selfish. He needed to fly because it could get him away from the ground and connect to the closest thing that felt like Neteyam, he needed to drown himself in that alcohol the Na’vi made because it drowned away all the pain and misery his family went through and still hold, the burden to try and add up to something, someone he will never be able to fill. But while he’s engulfed himself in all that, he could pretend that his family wasn’t broken. That it was the same, once happy family it once was 5 years ago. The one that still had Neteyam’s presence, the one that still had a father rather than a commanding leader. In this minor haven of numbness, he could still pretend that those once fond memories were fresh, remembered the way they were supposed to be reminisced. He could not just let it go.

Meanwhile, Lo’ak’s silence was tearing you apart, fragmenting your heart into pieces. But now you knew, you saw the truth. You could not keep a desperate grasp around old words and acts anymore, for now they were faint. Empty. Pointless gifts of a said courting that was going nowhere. Loving phrases and charming grins he more than knew could accomplish in capturing your heart.

But now it was clear as day that it meant nothing to Lo’ak. You meant nothing to Lo’ak. He did not love you as much as you loved him.

His throat cleared, and thickly spoke in English. “Your place is here, Y/N.” His eyes refused to meet yours, jaw narrowed enough to demonstrate he was clearly upset, though you’re not certain why.

“It was.” The correction you gave his words finally made everything click. His gaze lingered on the lake’s neon glow before lifting to look at you, trying to catch your own. The pretty decorated braids that framed his face moved with the motion of his head slanting to the side. He repeated your word, squinting before shaking his head and more so whispering to himself, “You’re leaving.”

Sharply exhaling, you finally uttered, “I am also here to end things between us, Lo’ak.”

Again, he was bewildered, and the cut breath he released made it known. Eyes darted over each feature upon your face, as if trying to commit it all into his memory, panic slowly seeping within him. “Can…I can say something, right?” His tone still carried its infamous jeer, but you suppose that was the last you deserved. You were the first to engage in this conversation. When you grant him the permission to speak, he wasted no second in taking advantage of it.

“W-where’s this coming from?”

You’re more than certain more inquiries will follow, and one or two questions will satisfy his little interrogation.

“What’s the motive behind all this, huh? How long you’ve been planning this, to leave me?” Lo’ak’s voice was one that never faltered nowadays — he, much like his father, was a fierce speaker. You knew that Lo’ak did not like to be kept in the unknown, in hiding. But now his voice was rather meek. His once honed gaze turned rounder, emphasizing that he may cry. What you despised most in this moment, was that it unphased you. Before this, all the trouble and conflict spiking between you and your Lo’ak, his tears were your least favorite thing in this entire existence. Out of everyone, you once believed Lo’ak was the least of them all to deserve the brim of tears. That he deserved happiness. The sight of them always managed to tear you bit by bit with every fallen droplet, and now it hardly mattered. While you do still very much believe that he indeed deserved happiness, you’ve reached your limit. You’ve devastatingly accepted that you could not restore that happiness in Lo’ak.

“Few weeks. A month maybe.” You answered faintly. You use the best of your abilities to keep a firm composure. It would be miserable to cry, especially right then and there. Lo’ak stumbled through his repetition of your answer, dubiety twisting your features, mind and heart. You cannot seem to comprehend the sudden shift of his act. The authentic perplex and strain to recall what went wrong as if he never saw this coming from you.

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry, Y/N—” His long arms extended, touch reaching to collide with you, yet he reluctantly retracted back as if he’d been scorched by some blazing flame of a barrier around you. He repeated his apology, scrambling to try and find whatever pieces he’s broken and bring them back together while trying with all his strength to not lose his damn mind. “Lemme mend this — y-you have to let me mend this, okay?”

His voice is desperate, pleading, and it was as if he’s speaking without wanting to hear reason. Lo’ak may not be known for his smartness, but he was clever with certain things. To you, Lo’ak was everything. But even so, that usual thick headed mind of his was unable to get himself out of this one.

“Y/N, we can — it’s mendable.” His head was repeatedly bobbing up and down, and it told you that perhaps you’ve brought him out of his drunken state. Brought him back to Pandora, at least for a split moment, you thought.

“I think it is too late now, ma Lo’ak.” His eyes shuttered and he let out a quivered exhale. “Baby, don’t say that, please—” He reached for you again, this time pushing through the fear and on with it. He couldn’t help the slightness of grimace upon him when his hands cut into your self-obtained space, and it was then that he realized why that burn had been a great protection for you.

Anxious, panic-stricken he was, digits winding around the bareness of your hips and wasted no second in tugging you upon his lap. “Please…just give me one more chance a-and let me mend this, yeah? Baby?”

The expanse of his palms quivered when they lifted to your cheeks, your own gripping the taut muscles of his shoulder blades to maintain your balance, to keep yourself steady from the pleading within his green-speckled hues. The air surrounding Lo’ak reeked of that forsaken alcohol, entangled through his braids, the essence of his blue flesh, his accessories.

You take him in; the faint violet flushed beneath the sockets of his eyes, the drain that highly beseeched at you with every syllable tumbling from his cloying lips. “I’m….fuck.” His breathing was escalating; more turbulent, almost hysterical as he tried retaining every part of you inside of himself.

Without your willingness, you’re gently moved, yet still, your form remained unyielding.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, and you know that.” His softly hushed words were right. You knew he meant them. While Lo’ak’s emotional avoidance over the last few years had been quite a lot, it did not make him exceedingly insensitive. He was full of many pretty words, but never once did he utter abundant words into existence without purpose. But what you only wished for was that he’d been able to say them sooner. Could have been swarmed with the realization and recognition of you before you’d made it to the edge of the cliff above the depths. All that was left for you to do in order to escape was to take the act in plummeting. To end things with Lo’ak, to start anew with your own life.

It is unattainable, you’re more than convinced that this is the end of the path for the both of you. Even with that said forged in your mind, you nodded still. Purposeless it was to see him in this state of franticity and fear of the prospect of losing you burdening your heart. You may feel repentant later on, but you’re to leave once this is finished, once this is over with and you’d never return to the Omaticaya. Lo’ak was to be an experience of your past. He would hate you then, hate you for an eternity for what you were to do, but you knew he would be okay. What he needed was his family. To fix those cracks, to patch those injuries. To improve himself, Lo’ak must and will find a way to find his true self beneath all those layers of resentment and suffering.

That was all that ceased to matter.

“I can mend this? You’ll let me?” You nodded once more, but he did the opposite in an act of disapproval. “Nah, I need to hear it. Let me hear you.” His voice was glazed with true, raw pain, something you haven’t heard from him in such a long time. “Please, Y/N…”

“You can mend this, ma Lo’ak.”

“Y-you promise me that?” He questioned, and for a moment you faltered. It’d be much more deceiving for him to know you were lying. So you don’t, and instead you let the tips of your four fingers stray to the nape of his neck and pull him into a kiss. And in this moment, you knew that you had never loved with such depth, such fervor with every fiber in your being.

You were aware that once you vanished from here, the fractures etched in your heart would scorch, ablaze to the point where you would feel every flicker and pain. With that being said, you poured it all into this one kiss, one that seized every ounce of respiration from his lungs. Vehementing it was. Vehementing you were, of course. His mind was nebulous; hazy, too fucked over — but you were here. In amidst the turmoil of an inner war, you. He loved you profoundly, and he knew you well. Well enough to know what the next day would bring. He knew why you were contributing to this, why you were granting him the belief that his pathetic attempt of resolution would be enough.

You loved Lo’ak as well.

The thought of facing a day without your presence gracing his life churned his chest with a crushing sense of loss, the palpitating organ within bending and compressing as if some being had reached and tried bending it to their own taunting will. He must give you everything, he had to give you everything, risk it all, and perhaps it would be sufficient. This time it is Lo’ak who retreated from you, dark lashes fluttering against the warmth of your cheek while his eyes perused over your face just one more time.

“You know that no matter where you go, you’ll always be mine.” His words were not a question, more so a statement of persistence and certainty the both of you felt and knew deep within your bones.

“You do understand, yeah?” You could hardly form a verbal response, though you do not give him the opportunity to bask in his little glory, and instead your hands, the ones currently on his shoulders, slid to the beaded necklaces encasing his toned neck, fingers tangling through them. “If you’re going to do something, get on with it.”

Lo’ak can’t help the soft smirk hoisting his cheek at your clipped tone and grumbled, “Impatient much?” Candidly speaking, this was perhaps the closest he was to being himself. That brilliant smile you haven’t seen in so long resisting the urge to be the prime focus of attention. A pity, really, for you.

“You still trust me?” He noticed your indecisiveness. He doesn’t give you time to respond for he soon added on, “Like this?” and that almost immediately changed the answer. The adapted pads of his fingers grazed down the dip of your neckline and to the elegant line of your collarbone, peering down your figure. “Do you trust me enough to have you like this?”

Your chin slightly dipped bashfully as you nodded. His brows drew together and hissed in a breath. “I wanna hear you say it then. Make this easier for the both of us.” Your delicate beaded chest piece subtly heaved from the ascent your chest made, and he could not help but laugh, eyes crescent-shaping with the sound, at your irritated voice. “I trust you, Lo’ak.”

“Good.” he muttered softly beneath his breath while letting his hands fall and secured themselves to your hips.

Yes, good, you repeated the single word in your own mind.

“You’d give yourself to me right here, right now?” He questioned, and you stuttered at this. It wasn’t the upmost ideal thing, for this spot practically belonged to you and Lo’ak was perhaps the most reserved place within the Forest since you were children. But it was the Forest, and you never knew who from the People could be wandering around. The thought of someone stumbling upon you and the Olo’eyktan’s son out in the open petrified you.

Though it seemed your pussy thought otherwise and did not mind one bit of this idea.

“S-srane ( yes ).” Firm was your word, and it pleased Lo’ak. Muscle memory it became when his palms created a path upwards from your hips. Palms that held such tenderness as they splayed up your stomach, blunt nails beginning to faintly engrave themselves into the azure flesh of your waist, soon following your midsection to endearingly trace over the pretty stripes decorated there.

The strokes he caused made you squirm in his lap, body curling slightly to the side and your nose twitched cutely. “Lo’ak, enough—” your plea went ignored once more by him.

“Do y’know how pretty you are?” Lo’ak’s words caused your heart to skip a rather large beat. Curse his idiotic mouth, curse him. Curse his abilities to have you melt with a single breath of his lungs.

“Our People always speak about the Great Mother’s beauties. Saying how she spent a great deal on Pandora,” he murmured and you didn’t hesitate to listen, even despite the light acts created from his touch that have your abdomen twitching.

“But gosh, I think you’ve bested her.” He exhaled almost breathlessly, as if the weight of his words were too grand and exquisite from being spoken to existence, to you. You saw nothing but sincerity in his face, blinking rapidly when he tapped your hip and uttered, “Take it off now.”

His demand left no inch of a room for a disagreement, so without further hesitation, you hitched yourself a bit up while wobbly fingers perched down and into the weaves of your tewng, slipping the garment off. You more than knew that when he meant to take it off, he meant to discard everything — such as your little chest piece. But almost as if it were a challenge, you do not. This drew a chuckle out of Lo’ak and you rolled your eyes despite settling back down on his thigh.

His mouth moving hot against yours, and for a second your entire world stilled, the remaining fragments of your heart plummeted, the wild fluttering as the single thing inside of you capable of sustaining life. Your ache, your beautiful, throbbing, lifelong ache dwindled for a moment as Lo’ak’s mouth meshed with yours. He kissed you fiercely, fingers brushing the lower swell of your breast, breathing existence back into your being, and it was then that you moaned lowly for him.

When he ripped his mouth away from your own, it was when his fingers found their way down the dips of your stomach, outlining the lower section, soon curling around the upper muscle of your thighs to part them just a bit more, dragging two deftly fingers through the growing mess between.

“Even when that pretty head of yours wanna hate me, this body can’t resist me, hm?” He retracted his hand as he spoke, long enough to glide those two fingers between his lips, humming contently around them before pulling them out. They were profusely coated with his spit, making it such an effortless task to increase the mess worse. Its pads nudged back and forward between your slit, occasionally granting nurturing circles to your nub. Your mind was becoming warped within the lust, back to clutching onto his shoulders for steadiness.

Your nails punctured the muscles there with the longing to grind against something, anything. “You’re so damn wet, mamas.” The foreign nickname had force in tearing out a sharp gasp from your throat, and he huffed out a chuckle while absorbing all the moist sensation.

“ ‘m gonna have you all fucked up on my fingers, then some more with my dick, how does that sound?” The sensation of his dark plaits grazed your cheek, lips adding on when they brushed your flickering ear. “You want that, Y/N/N/?”

You could not do anything more than whine, allowing your hips to wind forward in hence to catch every languid swipe of his slim fingers against you. Your body quaking, head pummeling as you padded near the pleasure.

Pleasure which you more than knew was not healthy. It was as if adding a single aid to a severe wound. The following day, you would detest yourself to the core for giving into this thrilling temptation; the thrusts he gave your tightened cunt, the kisses shared between your swollen mouths, the caresses given to your skin, all of this would create much more difficulty for you to move on.

Lo’ak’s fingers wasted no time in swatting against your swollen clit, pads of each digit rubbing gingerly over. Sensitive it was, every swipe causing your entire body to stutter.

You can feel more arousal oozing out of your cunt, adhering to Lo’ak’s constricting thigh. His flesh would be tainted with your slick, his dangling braids and pretty coils would be ruined with every slight tug given by the time you were done. Though he could not bring himself to care about it, he was not letting you go at this moment, he could not ever bring himself to do it.

The momentum of his overworked digits were lethal, you'd be culminating in a matter or seconds. The hand currently entangled within Lo’ak’s hair suddenly disappeared to slide down the base of his thick queue, fingers delicately curling around the sensitivity while you began to subtly gyrate your hips forward, the stimulation becoming much more direct and effective.

Though the act made from your dainty touch caused his jaw to go slack, pupils engulfing the golden pools of his eyes as a soft hiss whispered from his mouth.

"Look at you go, baby…" Tongue peeked out just to glide over his honed incisors before teasingly reaching forward to lightly bite your pouting lower lip, gaze never tearing from yours.

Everything is what you were to him.

The brimming of your orgasm deepened inside the center of your lower belly, spiraling bit by bit. “Hey, no, look at me, mamas.” His tone is low but beseeching, words practically breathing into you, directing you to obey his plea despite the violent desire to let your head slant back if it weren’t for another one of his pleas catching you, voice caressing the tethers of your soul.

“Please look at me, sevin. Lemme see you when you fall apart for me, yeah?” And it was then that you were reminded of your thoughts from earlier.

How fucking perilous Lo’ak’s mouth could be.

“Ma L-Lo’ak—” His name was uttered in a whine, clutch becoming firmer around the single braid of his as you compelled yourself to remain in eye contact with the Sully son. He squirmed yet didn’t reprove you and continued his work between your legs despite the building-up ache bulging between his own, three fingers dipping lower to gather more slick before adding it to his pattern against your throbbing clit.

“I-I’m close,” you huffed out, and Lo’ak nodded deliberately, the subtle movement of his pleading face mesmerizing you. “C’mon, lemme see it happen. Lemme see what I do to you, how good I make you feel, hm?”

"Hmm— L-Lo’ak, you're gonna make me cum." Perhaps you were nearly driven to tears when Lo’ak craned his neck forward again, though this time his lips pecked over the pink contours of your scrunched nose first, sweet, loving kisses falling over each star-like speck across your cheeks, beginning to create a path all over your face.

“You’re doing so, so good f’me. Always so fucking sweet to me." His breathy muttering oughted you to look away abashed, flustered.

"You love the boy you knew, don't you?"

"You're not a boy anymore — y-you’re to be grown, to to be Olo’eyktan o-one day." You reminded him curtly, words tumbling from your lips as you tried focusing more towards your pleasure.

"Nah, no." His head shook, the two braids aligned to each of his cheeks swaying from the motion. "Grown — Grown Lo’ak is very different from boy Lo’ak, isn't he?"

Your heart couldn’t help but falter at this, a muskiness kissing your waterline, blinding your senses as you stared at him solemnly. "I love every version of you, ma Lo’ak. I just love you."

Agitation suddenly crumbled his pretty features, and brokenly whispered, “Then why are you choosing to leave me?"

You truly did want to answer him despite the way your heart nearly plummeted to your stomach, yet it was difficult to. His lips sweetly found their place over your face again, prickling your flesh as if pointed needles.

“L-Lo’ak." He merely hummed at the low warning. "It’s okay, just go ahead mamas. I know." He whispered against your flushed cheekbone.

"Cum for me, you've been so good, sevin. My pretty girl." Your chest heaved overwhelmingly, the tips of your ears flirting with each of the pretty, earnest words he reiterated, swelling the urge for you to sob. "Perfect and pretty. The only girl, my only babygirl."

And perhaps you would sob.

"All you have always done is take care of me, huh? But who takes care of you?" His working hand dragged up, and the sudden act caused you to jolt. Lo’ak’s free arm and hand, however, wasted no second in coiling around your midsection in order to keep you from moving away.

"Just wanna make it up to you, tìyawn. Just tell me that's what you want from me." He beseeched, nose nuzzling into the line of your trembling jaw.

“Y-yes, that is what I want, ma Lo’ak. Please, please, please. T-Take care of me — make me cum— make it up t-to me, Lo’ak, please." A moan rumbled in the center of your throat for Lo’ak felt it when his lips twisted upwards into a wide grin. “Then do it — c’mon, cum for me, baby. Let it out…”

He didn’t need to instruct it twice for you came in an instant. It washed over with a moan, long and broken, your head seizing forward and into the crevice of said neck and broad shoulder. Damped lips were immediate to latch onto the future Olo’eyktan’s neck, biting, suckling, and softly licking the striped flesh, body quivering as you were thrown over the edge.

Your walls twitched around a vacant place, and Lo’ak kneaded your abused numb through the aftershocks as the pearlescent proof of your release pooled out of your cunt. "Fuuck, my pretty girl, doing so damn good for me." He crooned sweetly, the long length of his lashing tail somehow finding its way to tenderly coil around the thigh clenched by his side.

You faintly feel the swift movements of his hands reaching down to fiddle with his own tewng, yet the dread was too heavy for you to react.

It was only then when you realized that Lo’ak was not stopping his tempting assault that you found the strength to peer hazily down at where your pussy and Lo’ak’s fingers met. He was still playing with your pussy, flexing digits coating themselves in your sweet essence before ramming them right into your much sensitive hole.

He was immediate in starting at a brutal pace, so engrossed in searching for the spot that would have you squirting all over him.

"L-Lo’ak, Lo’ak, no w-wait, please— " Yet he had decided to not listen to your cries. Not even looking at your face, no, his gaze was enthralled with the way his fingers are digging you out, the way you swallowed them whole, nearly becoming one with them.

"No, you must take it. You can take it.” He forewarned but your head was shaking in denial, a sob flying out your mouth. “K-Kehe ( no ). I-I can’t, m-ma Lo’ak—”

“But you can, baby. I know you can.” His brows furrowed softly together, brushing against your browline as his forehead kissed yours. “And you know how I know that? Hmm?”

Stammers were the only that managed to be formed. “Because I know you, Y/N. I am the only one who knows you better.” He fed you the answer he had been seeking for and your chin jutted up and down. “Or am I not, mamas?”

“Y-yes, L-Lo’ak, it is you — just you.” A chuckle proudly spewed from him. “And who knows this pretty pussy better than me?” Hips jerked forward, whining with a gasp at the harsh deepness of his digits. Your grip on his queue released, palms scattering out and planting on each side of Lo’ak’s angular face as you kept his attention locked towards you.

“N-no one, ma Lo’ak. N-no one—”

Lo’ak nodded firmly, “That’s what I thought, baby. Now, let me treat her the way she deserves to be treated, okay?” His mouth brushed over your lush one, yet didn’t necessarily grant you the yearn of a kiss. Not as he noticed the subtle flash of upset striking your face.

“Just one more chance for tonight.” He added after a pause. “You’ll let me have her for tonight, won’t you, Y/N?”

You whined shamelessly, “Y-yes, o-oh! P-please, Lo’ak—”

“That’s the Y/N I know,” His praise went by tenderly while the act between your legs was entirely distinct, much more carving, exhilaratingly burning you. “My Y/N, my girl.”

Your pussy was well acquainted with the feel of Lo’ak’s touch, a rather hefty debate between said cock and fingers. Every single adapted ridge, divot, arch. Always, always taking him so well, so eagerly, prettily desperate for Lo’ak.

"You're so wet." He grunted, pupils dilating in awe from the brief yet sufficient enough glance given to the drenching mess. "Need you to tell me how it feels."

“So good, Lo-Lo’ak. You make me feel so, so good." Lo’ak liked you like this, all in a drunken daze, vocals all garbled up.

"You gonna cum, mamas?" You could not even answer, not as your body actively chased every thrust. "I can feel you squeezing my fingers so good. Jeesh, you're so damn perfect." He rasped lovingly, "Love having you like this…you’re everything to me, you know that?”

The words were meant more to himself, yet you heard him all the same. “L-Lo’ak." you muttered though the tut his tongue made kept you from proceeding, head shaking. “Shh, don’t say anything. I jus’ want you to cum for me, got it? Flood my shit.”

You felt every curl, every nudge his fingers gave the most sensitive spot within, your insides coiling, rattling all at once to the point where you nearly lost all feel of your lower body, all sense of the way your tail swiveled, the way your limbs quivered. “Make a mess all over your future Olo’eyktan, hm?”

The hand grasping your hip rose to press against the rising arch of your back, encouraging the pretty dip to take shape while your inner thighs clenched around Lo’ak’s palm.

But the continuous push to your back flushed you forward, thighs yanking open with the lankiness of his lower abdomen shoving between. The act caused his fingers to retreat from your weeping hole and knead them sloppily upward. The intensity of your subsequent climax came in high waves when he slumped them back inside, pumping once, twice, three times all in one before he was pulling back to stimulate your pulsating clit.

White spasms of what could be compared to blazing stars overcome your vision, a shriek rippling from your hoarse throat while you drizzled your release all over Lo’ak, the hands once cradling his face dragging down to the length of his neck and jabbing your thumbs into the hollow of his constricting throat. Tears cascade down your glowing, flushed cheeks, a never ending streak assisted by the river flowing from your cunt — an enthralling combination that had Lo’ak feeling ecstatic.

"Mhm, that's it, baby. Just ride that shit out for me…that’s it, there you go." His encouragement had your body feeling dazed and spent as you leaned forward to flush yourself against Lo’ak’s dampened chest, ear flickering at the rumbled sound he created.

"You did so good for me." Lo’ak muttered into your other ear, mouth grazing the point of it. "So, so good." The length of his palm moved to cradle the curve of your head as he felt the racketing your body created, watched the sways your lovely tail created before it nestled right beside his thigh.

"Your pussy's so perfect, made to take me, made to listen to me, isn’t that right?” You couldn’t help not answer from the embarrassment clutching at you, and instead nuzzle the tip of your nose over a glowing speck on his cobalt striped chest.

"Nga yawne lu oer ( I love you )." This was sincerely declared with a brush of a kiss to your head. "I do, I really, really do." He insisted, and he couldn’t evict the sniffles following that scrunched his nose afterwards. "I am sorry, very sorry for the way I’ve acted."

You were too exhausted to create some sort of movement, but one thing that was for certain was that Lo’ak preferred it this way. It made the act of speaking, of apologizing much easier for him.

"God, I really have been so selfish, haven’t i?” A deep furrow found its way to your forehead at his self chastising, at the way he was combined, conflicted between uttering this to you or to himself. “You will still leave. You won’t be here anymore. This is really happening, isn’t it?”

Another stiff sound left Lo’ak, so meek, so lost before sweetly adding, “I promise I did try. For you, I really tried. F-for them — for my family. To be what they need— what you needed.” A sob strangled within his throat, mind nearly beginning to descend into that fogging darkness. “A-and I know it’s not an excuse, I know it’s been years but after we left, a-after Neteyam—”

Yet the gentle, secure entanglement of your arms pulled Lo’ak from that mindset, and he found solace within this embrace, keeping him close, letting him feel and know that you were there.

“Q-quiet. Enough — do not do this to yourself.” You stammered out softly, a light kiss meeting his collarbone. “We still have one more chance, ma Lo’ak. One more chance within this night. One more chance to pretend that this is not our future, to pretend that everything is fine, yes? Do not waste it by recounting your regrets, okay?”

Lo’ak’s mind geared this over, and in there, and in his heart, he more than knew that he will never be able to bring himself to love with such force as the way he loved you. Yet still, even now he could not express it in a good, healthy, proper way that you truly deserved. He would find a way to prove it, however. To show, to act, to live by it as if it was the very sole purpose of his life. Lo’ak would find the pieces of himself beneath all this tethered and tainted pain, and bring them together within himself in order to bring himself back to life.

Lo’ak would do it for you. For his family.

So you could learn to love him again.

But he would do it for himself as well.

In order for him to learn to love himself again.

"Wipe your tears for right now, okay? I am still here. I am right here in front of you." Lo’ak’s firm arms surrounded your frame into a hold that was soothing, familiar, full of strength. It blossomed molten warmth within your chest, erupting an arsenal of emotions.

"Whatever you — whatever you wish to give I will take." you ended meekly and Lo’ak was certain he had fallen for you all over again. Yes, his climb back to victory would be well worth it. For you to look at him one day, and to once again see him as the boy you loved, the man you will love, the man you admired so profoundly. It made Lo’ak’s entire heart begin to tremble, along with the curves of his lips.

"Alright then, sevin. Just take a breather and rest for a while, yeah? Our night's just getting started."

220 notes · View notes

macfrog · 10 months

Text

illicit affairs

cowboy like me chapter eleven

howdy everyone it's me again 🤠 latest chapter of cowboy like me is now yours. do with it as you wish. love u all so much. see ya soon x

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: your relationship with joel is getting harder and harder to hide, especially when a surprise visit from your dad threatens to spoil your romantic weekend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is a lil hungover, gluten bagels, lots of LIES, reader and joel being horny devils, gene kelly, unprotected piv sex, sex tape, praise kink, fluff, cockwarming, angst!!! and pain!!!!, reader and joel fight, cheating....??, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 8.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist

You wake in the same position you fell asleep in just hours ago: curled up in Joel’s bed, the curve of his body safely encasing yours. His lips are still by your ear, breath gentle against your lobe. You lean over to lift your phone from the nightstand.

8:14. You’ve had less than four hours’ sleep.

Below the time there’s a text message, sent a couple hours ago.

Dad: Remember to take the trash out before you pass out kiddo. Hope you had a good night 👍

Well, that was never happening, was it? As far as your dad knows, his best friend had picked you up from Frank’s and given you a ride home. Probably walked you to the house on his steady arm, made sure you downed a glass of water before seeing you off upstairs to bed. Polite. Respectful.

Of course, your dad is blissfully unaware that, in actual fact, at 6AM you were in said best friend’s bed, pressed up against him, no clothes between you, fast asleep. Definitely not making sure the trash was out.

The bright screen burns into your eyes as you squint at the notification below his text, decorated with alarm emojis – your way of ensuring you remembered to get back before him. DAD HOME stares back at you ominously, eventually persuading you to push yourself up off the mattress, loosen Joel’s lazy hold on your waist, and slip out of bed.

Joel, still asleep, rolls across your side of the bed onto his stomach when you sit up, sighing into your pillow as you prop yourself on the edge of the bed. You sit for a minute, dumb smile wide across your lips with no one to conceal it from, staring at him. Studying every part of him in his content, sleepy state.

The sharp curve of his jawline, the flecks of gray through his beard. The soft brush of hair falling on his forehead, deep brown curling just above his eyebrows. His toned shoulder, round and strong, flexing some with the grip his arm has around your pillow. His face buried in the cotton, breathing you in.

You jump when your phone starts vibrating in your hand, pad across to the door and slip out, closing it gently behind you.

“Hello?” you whisper.

Your dad’s voice is like a foghorn in your hungover ear. “Mornin’, kiddo! Wake ya?”

You wince, clutching your forehead as the quick movement from Joel’s bed to his hallway catches up with your aching brain. “Mighta done, yeah.”

He chuckles. The car hums in the background while he talks, meaning he yells even louder to compensate. “I’m about an hour out, thought I’d bring in some breakfast. You want anythin’?”

“I’m good with whatever. You’ll be back soon?”

“Nine-thirty or so, looks like. Why?”

“Nothin’, just wondered. I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Hey, d’you take the trash out?”

“Uh, I can’t– You’re breakin’ up, there, Dad, I’ll see you when you get home. Alright, cool, see ya then, bye.”

You cut his babbling voice and hang up, clutching the phone to your chest, close your eyes and exhale. When you swing back into the room quietly, Joel’s still sleeping.

You slip back into your dress and pull your boots on, scanning the room for your panties. No sign of them, though, and it’s not like you got all the time in the world to search. They’re probably underneath Joel’s deadweight body, anyway.

You tiptoe over to the side of the bed and crouch, kissing his neck softly.

He stirs, hand lets go of the pillowcase and finds yours, intertwining your fingers sleepily.

“I gotta go, baby,” you whisper, running your fingers through his unkempt hair.

His voice mumbles into the cotton, deep and groggy. You catch the tail end of his sentence: “…give you a ride.”

“No,” you reply, laughing a little as you sweep hair from his forehead. “I’m good, I’ll walk. You sleep. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Text me when you’re…home…”

The words barely pass through his lips as he begins to drop off again, and you kiss his head before straightening up, grabbing your bag, and heading downstairs.

You dip into the kitchen before you go, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. You’re fucking parched. Hungover, exhausted, you roll the freezing cold bottle across your forehead. It does little to soothe the throbbing pain, but it takes the edge off of it for a few seconds before you’re slinging the bottle under your arm and searching through Joel’s cupboard.

You steal a bagel. Feels kinda hard, probably a day past its best, but it’ll do. You set off, picking at the dry bread as you walk, holding it between two fingers as you gulp at the water.

It’s the blandest walk of shame that ever happened.

Twenty minutes later and you’re pushing through your front door, fucking drenched in sweat. Your jacket’s tied around your waist, leather hot and stiff. You toss your keys on the kitchen counter and collapse into the couch, letting your heartrate settle and waiting for the room to stop pulling in and out of focus.

Your head is pounding now, your throat feels like sandpaper. Your body aches, though if you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure that’s just from the hangover.

Once you’re in a fitter state, pulse no longer beating through your eyeballs, you head upstairs and tears your clothes off to jump in the shower. You keep it on a low heat, only warm, and it soothes your skin and flushes the smell of alcohol, sweat, and Joel down the drain.

You’re back in the kitchen, hunched over the counter nursing a coffee, when your dad waltzes through the front door. You lift your towel-wrapped head from your hand and look up.

“Well, hello,” he calls. “I notice ours is the only house in the street with no tra–”

“How was your trip?” you cut in, eyes screwing shut.

“Ha. Good. Nice drive, up that way. I got us bagels. Want one?”

Sometimes it’s like some twisted fucker is sat writing this comedy into your life. He brought home bagels? After you just choked one down walking home in the blistering heat? Whatever, dude.

“Thanks,” you mutter flatly against your mug, reaching out for the paper bag he’s offering.

Your dad lifts his own bagel, takes a huge bite, then looks up at you and gives an enthusiastic thumbs up. When you bite into yours, you’re…less enthusiastic. It does taste better than the dry one you just had, though. The cream cheese helps.

“I, uh…I’ll be headin’ out again soon,” you tell him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Staying at Anna’s tonight,” you lie, setting your coffee down. “Said we’d have a pool day.”

He nods, mouth full of food. “Sounds nice, kiddo. Nice day for a tan. Hey, uh, how was Joel?”

You almost choke on your bagel. “Wh-what?”

“Joel. He alright?”

You shrug, picking at the bread. Unable to meet your dad’s eye. “I dunno. Why don’t you ask ‘im? I don’t know how he is.”

He stares at you. Brows knit, a line between them pointing upward. “I was just wonderin’…since he…He did pick you up last night, right?”

Oh, fuck.

“Oh,” you bat a hand, tucking it back under the counter when you notice it trembling. “Oh, right. I thought you meant this morning. Yeah, he was fine. He…Yeah. Fine.”

“Uhuh,” your dad nods, eyes narrow.

You don’t have the energy or the brainpower to be convincing. Not right now. There’s alcohol still drying up in your blood, muscles still tight from that fucking hike home, and your mind isn’t even in the room with your dad right now. It’s elsewhere – wrapped up in Joel’s bedsheets with him.

“I hope you didn’t keep him up too late.”

“It was, like, 2AM or somethin’. Wasn’t so bad. He said he was up watching TV anyways. So.”

He seems to believe this – swallows it down with the last few bites of his breakfast. You continue chatting, covering over your blunder like packing dirt back into a hole in the earth, conversation drifting from how your girls night went, to how his trip was, to an awkward apology for ‘forgetting’ the trash. He won’t let that go, will he?

But it’s short-lived. Soon, you both fall into silence, and the air between you feels muggy. Thick with lies and secrecy. Things you can’t say – I wanted a McDonald’s, but Joel wouldn’t budge, then I caught him watching Grey’s Anatomy, did you know he’s only slept with ten – I mean nine people?

Your dad glances up a few times, studies your face. You hide behind your bagel, guilt and shame across your cheeks like a wine stain. But he only smiles pleasantly, until he’s throwing the last bite into his mouth and rubbing his hands together, announcing he’s going for a shower.

“I’ll take your bag to your room,” you crumble the paper wrapped inside your fist, toss it across to him, “I gotta pack anyways.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” he says, patting your back as you pass him.

You don’t look back when you lift the leather straps of his bag and lug it upstairs.

It drops from your clutches with a thud at the foot of his bed. And then you’re quite literally skipping through to your own room, grabbing a black tote from your closet and blindly tossing clothes into it. A spare t-shirt, underwear, socks. Who gives a fuck what you pack? You’re going to Joel’s – the clothes will probably last five minutes on your body before you’re peeling them off again.

One thing you do take time picking is your bikini, opting for a red strappy one. Your old roommate once told you it made you look like you were in an episode of Baywatch. Which, y’know, seems like Joel’s kinda thing.

Your dad’s stood by his bed, hair damp from his shower, unpacking his bag when you emerge from your room.

“That you leaving your old man?” he asks with a tut, folding a t-shirt onto the mattress in front of him.

You wander through, sweet smile on your face, and kiss his cheek. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Have fun, honey.”

And then you’re gone. Straight back to Joel’s.

You’ve been away a couple hours, if that, but when you wander up his driveway, he’s not home. He keeps a spare key under a plant by his door, so you let yourself in. Sink back into his couch, throw on an old episode of Love Island while you wait. Twenty minutes later, his truck pulls up and he shoulders the door open, grocery bags in his arms.

“Hi, baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss your head as he passes.

You switch the TV off and follow him through to the kitchen to help him unpack, rocking into his side as you empty the bags with a giggle.

“He ask?”

You shake your head, chewing on a Twizzler.

“Nothin’? Really?”

“Didn’t really give him time to,” you reply. “Had breakfast, grabbed my stuff, left. And I parked a couple streets away, just on the off-chance.”

Joel looks down at you with a hesitant smile on his lips. He steals the Twizzler from between your teeth and puts it in his own mouth.

“Dick,” you mumble, and he chuckles quietly.

“You know, darlin’…all this lyin’, covering our tracks, I…”

“Joel,” you lean into him, standing on your tiptoes to peck his lips. “I don’t care. There’s nowhere else in the world I wanna be. Just with you. He’ll find somethin’ to do, you know he will.”

He gazes at you for a few seconds, eyes flitting back and forth between yours. You lean your head back and his arm snakes around your waist, squeezing you into his side.

“Trouble,” he mutters, taking a six-pack of beer over to the fridge.

----------

The summer sun blazes down over Joel’s backyard, and the pair of you spend the afternoon by his pool, keeping cool by having a dip every now and then. The red bikini is, as it turns out, a hit: Joel can’t keep his eyes – or his hands – off you, anytime you push up off your lounge chair and slink over to the pool edge, slipping in beside him.

You lock your arms around his neck, legs lazily draped over his hips as he floats you both through the water, and turn your head to the sky; eyes shut, the inside of your lids bright red with the sun screaming down through them. Joel idly kisses your chest, lips curving around your collarbones.

“I like this,” you say, looking down at him. Droplets run down the ends of his dark hair, beads of water rolling down his temples. “I could get used to it.”

“Wish we could,” he replies, bucking you up under his forearms. “I like it, too.”

It feels nice, if a little bit of an ache. Hearing him talk like that. Everything you two ever say, no matter how thick with sincerity, is laced with threat. Wish we could. Because you never will be able to get used to it, right? Something will always be swimming underneath you, a black shadow that disappears whenever you attempt one good glance at it.

Something always threatening to spill your secrets. Something threatening to blow everything apart.

Joel lifts a hand to cup the back of your head and pulls your lips down to meet his, moving backward until his back hits the wall of the pool. Your teeth pick up his bottom lip, tongue slips past into his mouth, and he groans, smiling into the kiss.

You begin to feel him harden under his trunks, and you grind your core against him.

“Inside?” he breathes between kisses.

“Mhm,” you whine, and he drags you out of the pool back into the house.

You spend the entire day following a pattern: eat, chill, tease, fuck. Eat, chill, tease, fuck. As the sun begins to melt behind the trees lining Joel’s backyard, you’ve spend more time on your knees, underneath, or on top of Joel than you have actually tanning.

Can you blame yourselves? Whenever you get alone time with no risk of being caught, it’s hard to keep your hands off one another. With no reason to keep quiet or hidden, you can fuck around all you want without a care in the world, right?

Right.

You order pizza, laze in the slow-dying sun to eat it, talking about nothing and everything before one of you steers the conversation and, before you know it…your bikini bottoms are pushed to the side, or otherwise torn from your body.

Eat, chill, tease, fuck. It’s too easy.

When the yard is finally drowned by dusk, Joel grabs some blankets and you spend the evening on his couch, talking some more and then deciding which movie to watch. You’ve never seen Singin’ in the Rain. Joel takes obscene offense to this fact.

“What kind of film student ain’t seen Singin’ in the Rain?”

“We actually did study it for one of my classes,” you mutter, tossing popcorn into your mouth. “Flicked through the important parts. Wasn’t my thing.”

“Well, you gotta watch the whole film. It’s a classic. Won at the Oscars ‘n everythin’.”

His enthusiasm almost makes you hold back – the way he’s sat on the edge of his seat, twisted around to chastise you properly for your ignorance of musical film. This could be the most animated you’ve ever seen him – over Gene Kelly. So, you almost bite your tongue.

Almost.

“Didn’t it…famously get nothing?”

His face sours in a heartbeat. Expression drops like a sack of bricks. He turns away from you and throws himself back into the couch, grumbling. “Alright, smartass. Watch it, and we’ll talk after.”

“I’m just sayin’, it–”

“We’ll talk. After.”

It’s still not your thing. For a multitude of reasons, but the newest one, the most difficult of all to let go: you can’t get the way Joel spoke out of your mind.

Just shut you right up, didn’t he? With three flat words, and a look in his eye that warned you not to push him. But fuck, you want to. You want to make him talk. Now.

Fifteen minutes into the film, you sit forward and swipe his phone from the coffee table.

“What are you doin’?” he asks in that monotone voice, the one he always uses whenever you’re pissing him off. Whenever you’re…getting to him.

“Bored,” you state, thumbs tapping in his passcode. You’ve been around him enough by now, studying every little move he makes, to just absorb dumb little things about him like the fact that his passcode is 0908, because those are the three numbers his thumb can reach easiest.

The phone clicks open and your eyes dance over the screen, deciding which app to load first.

Joel says your name. Just once. But it’s enough.

You angle your head in his direction. Bat your eyelashes.

“Enough. Watch the damn movie, would ya?”

Your head rolls back around to his phone. You click the photos app.

Joel curses under his breath, shaking his head and turning back to the screen. His eyes are boring into the pixels, mumbling things you’re too busy scrolling through his camera roll to listen to.

It’s mostly screenshots. Contracts, invoices, receipts. Boring Joel stuff. There’s the odd photo of his backyard, a few where the sunset rips across the tops of the trees in a fiery glow. They’re a little tilted, a little off balance. You smile at his attempt at photography.

“You gotta learn how to straighten your pictures, dude.”

“Took that for you,” he utters through a mouthful of popcorn. “Thought you’d like the sky with the trees in front, ‘n all.”

“Coulda text me it,” you say, letting him swipe through the photos to show you, each one from a slightly different angle to get more of the trees in, crop the pool out, hide the horrendous rosebush his neighbor has creeping over his fence.

He shrugs, pulling his hand away. “Musta been distracted by all the dumb stuff you send me.”

“Fine, no more funny videos. You’ve done it now, Miller.”

He chuckles and his attention turns back to the film. You’re slowly creeping further back through his pictures – measurements for something he’s building, different thicknesses of lumber propped against each other under the fluorescent light of Home Depot. And then –

You recognize the huge arching window first. Sunlight casting across a white tablecloth, polished cutlery shimmering. The velvet curtains in the background, and the made-up diners dotted around behind you and Sarah, both grinning into her phone camera.

“When did you…?”

Joel’s lips press the crown of your head. “Saw her gettin’ her phone out ‘n thought it’d be a nice picture from that angle, too.”

“Joel…” you breathe, eyes stuck on the image of your swollen cheeks, more centered in the frame than Sarah’s brown curls.

Your thumb swipes once and there’s a second photo: Sarah’s arm is lowered, she’s typing out her caption. You’re still smiling, looking over her shoulder as she selects the perfect cocktail of emojis.

She’s barely in the frame. It’s all you. Only you.

“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, limp hands dropping the phone to your stomach.

“’s just a photo, baby.”

And he’s right. Or – he’d be right, if it weren’t the only two photos of a human being in his entire camera roll. The only person he deems worth taking a picture of. The only one, in amongst trees, and emails, and wooden planks. The things that make up Joel, in your mind. His work, his home, and…you.

As quick as the thought delights you, it’s already terrifying you. Thrill barging through your veins, competing with fear to shock through your system the hardest.

“Alright,” you mutter, switching to his camera app and turning the phone to aim at him, “just a photo.”

You watch on the screen as he gives you a telling glance, holds his hand up to block the lens, and says, “Baby. Will you put that–? Hey. Watch the damn movie, now.”

“No,” you reply, avoiding his palm to snap a picture of his face. You twist in your seat until you’re at a ninety-degree angle to him, your feet in his lap, pulling a cushion to swipe at his attempts to grab the phone. “No, c’mon. We gotta fill your camera roll with more ‘n just contracting stuff.”

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah.”

Your thumb swipes to video mode, hitting the bright red button and giggling when Joel’s deadpan face turns to watch you behind his phone.

“Quit – it,” he chuckles, swatting the phone from his face.

“You wanna watch a movie, maybe I wanna make one.”

His stare darkens. A smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. You hear it how he heard it seconds after, and you mirror his expression.

“Enough,” he tells you again, voice low, but it’s less of a telling as it is…a warning.

You put the phone down. Lock it, slide it across the couch to Joel. Silent. Giving him the choice.

His fingers lock around it, clicking the button to light the screen back up. He studies it for a second, deliberating, and then leans forward, setting it on the coffee table.

When you turn to look, the phone is sat on its side, screen reflecting back the image of the two of you; Joel, sat upright in the couch, and you, strewn out beside him. The oversized shirt you’re wearing has ridden up past your underwear, pooling on your stomach.

He’s staring at you. You can see it in his phone. You turn to look back, and he lifts his palm. Ball’s back in your court.

“Turn the TV off,” you mutter. You’re not fucking him with Singin’ in the Rain in the background.

He keeps his eyes on you, reaching for the remote. The screen cuts to black.

“Sure you wanna–?”

“C’mere,” you cut in, tossing the cushion and pulling him into you when he moves.

Somewhere between Joel leaning down on top of you and taking a grip of your hair in his hands, he presses the record button. The tiny ding sound shines a spotlight on you that lights your skin with nerves, a little bit of embarrassment, but…thrill. Excitement. Arousal.

Joel grinds his hips into yours and you both moan, your head falling back to allow him room to bruise your neck with his lips. His fingers knead roughly into the soft skin around your hips, pressing divots into your waist, sneaking their way up to cup your tits.

And then you’re turning, craning your neck to watch yourselves on his phone screen. Joel’s lips on your neck, his hands beneath your shirt.

He lifts his jaw for two seconds, coming up for breath and noticing your gaze.

“You wanna watch it, baby?”

You laugh in response, nodding when he turns your jaw to look at him.

In two seconds, you’re on your front, flipped by Joel’s hands. He takes your hips and lifts them, lining them with his own. You cross your arms and rest your chin atop them, watching in the reflected image as he slips his tee over his head and pulls your ass back to meet his stiff crotch.

Both of your heads are just cut out of shot. Yours at the left-hand side of the screen, and Joel’s at the top. The only recognizable traits are your hair and his beard. Those – and the sounds escaping your lips.

He wastes no time undressing you. Just lets your tee fall down your spine to your shoulders, pushes your panties to the side, and tugs his sweatpants low enough that he can comfortably slip inside you.

It’s sloppy. And quick. It barely lasts five minutes. As far as sex tapes go, it’s a pitiful attempt. But it’s hot – pretending that someone might fucking see it one day, see you and Joel, arguably doing what you do best.

And it’s even hotter seeing it from a different angle; feeling the stretch of him inside you, and watching it happen in real-time on his phone. Thinking of him rewatching it once the weekend’s over, his cock in his fist, shooting cum all over his belly.

Joel thrusts into you, pulling your ass back until you’re swallowing every inch of his cock. Your fists ball and you bite down on your arm to counter the shallow pain of him deep inside you, groaning with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he whispers from behind, slipping back only halfway and pushing in again.

You breathe a laugh, whispering, “Harder,” and he listens.

His hips crack against yours, a whimper calling from your lips, knees slipping further apart on the leather beneath you to accommodate the fucking size of him.

“Yeah? You want it harder, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you whine, bottom lip between your teeth.

He picks up the pace, pushing deeper every time your ass comes into contact with his hips. His skin slaps against yours, squeals of delight and pleasure cutting from your throat with each movement he makes.

Your hand slips between your legs, fingers run quick circles over your clit.

“Good girl,” he grits, “make yourself feel good, baby.”

You whine his name, forehead flat against the couch cushion as he fucks you, pleasure building between your legs like a tornado, tightening, tightening, tightening.

And then you’re being hauled up from the couch, flat against Joel’s body, cock still buried deep inside you. His hand replaces yours, his fingers on your clit, rubbing faster and harder than you think you can take.

He’s whispering in your ear like he always does. Saying everything he knows you like to hear. You’re a good girl, you’re his girl, you’re taking him so well. It’s desperate, and messy, and you know you’re both just racing to the finish line, aching for the relief that only you two know how to bring to one another.

And you cum, hard, fighting against his hold in a desperate attempt to fall flat against the couch. Joel keeps you upright, fingers slowing on your aching cunt as you clench and squeeze his cock, your orgasm ripping through your body.

He lets go of you, settling you on all fours in front of him before he pulls out, spilling all over your back.

You sink lower, ass still in the air, tits pressed against the cool leather of the couch as his warm cum slowly trickles down your spine.

Joel groans, a deep, guttural groan, still holding his cock between your ass cheeks as he stills, watching every rope of cum coating your back.

You catch your breath, panting mixed with laughing, and turn, rolling over and staring up at him. He leans back over, grabs the phone, and stops recording.

“Fuck…” you breathe.

“Fuck,” Joel agrees.

You laugh again, the last of your energy going into taking his shoulder and pulling him down against your body as he examines the footage. Tender kisses along his neck, dipping between his collarbones, listening to the grunts and groans from the speaker by your ear.

“Jesus, darlin’,” Joel breathes, eyes never leaving the screen. “We’re a fuckin’ mess.”

Your head tilts back with laughter, and Joel’s lips ghost across your throat. “We are not,” you finally reply, taking hold of the phone and scrolling quickly through the video. “I liked that part,” you turn it to show him your bodies held to one another by Joel’s strong arms.

“Yeah?” he asks behind a chuckle. Then he takes the phone from your hands, locks it, and tosses it to the other side of the couch, pulling you up into his arms until you’re sat on his lap, noses brushing against one another. “I liked all of it.”

“I like all of you,” you say, and he presses his lips to yours.

Joel kisses you gently, running his hands under your shirt and across your back, still covered in his release. He presses you closer to his body, almost painfully, as if the cotton of your shirt, the skin of your bodies, the cages of ribs inside are all keeping you too far apart from him.

You pull your jaw from his, run two delicate fingers across his lips.

“Don’t go fallin’ in love, cowboy,” you whisper.

----------

Joel carries you to his room just after midnight – sun-kissed, chlorine-coated, fucked-out, exhausted. He slips into bed behind you, curling his body around your frame, and, when his leg lifts to slot between yours, your hand stops it.

“No?” he asks, head lifting.

“Don’t want your thigh,” you mumble.

“How come?”

“Want you to…want somethin’ else.”

Joel understands without another word. He kisses your shoulder once, then takes your hips in both hands and pulls your ass to his front. You feel him pull the elastic of his underwear, stroke himself a couple times, and then push his tip in.

You gasp when he enters you – half-hard, slow, but even still. You’ll never get used to the feeling of him filling you, of his body connecting with yours, of him knowing and feeling you this intimately. Knowing and feeling you more intimately than anyone in your life ever has. Ever will, maybe.

When you’re full of him, he steadies. You scoot your hips back a little, and he growls in your ear.

“Careful, pretty girl.”

“Just gettin’ comfy,” you sleepily sing, almost teasingly.

He snakes one arm under your neck, cradling your head in the crook of his elbow. The other lies lazily over your waist. A satisfied sigh runs from his lips past your ear. He sounds and feels the most relaxed you’ve ever known him to be.

And you wish you could say the same.

Your eyes close over, heavy and tired, but you don’t fall asleep as quick as Joel. Something’s tugging at your heart. Something solid, that drags it down to the bottom of your stomach, and pools like ice water there. Something that nips at your lungs, stealing breath from you whenever you think too hard about it.

Something you’ve been patting down, stamping out with your foot every time the flame relights. And suddenly it feels as though the entire room just caught fire from under you.

Sheer exhaustion sends you off to sleep, with dreams of conversations and confessions you’re sure would never happen. Could never happen.

Should. Never. Happen.

----------

Warm water pours down over you, soaking your hair and chasing down your shoulders, your arms, past your breasts and over your stomach. You grab some more of the shampoo you’d stolen from Sarah’s bathroom and lather it up, covering your hair in it and drowning yourself under the water again.

Joel’s bathroom is one of three in his house; Sarah’s is slightly roomier, and the guest bathroom has the best water pressure, but you don’t care. Something inside you goes wild knowing you’re naked and washing in Joel Miller’s shower, even though you two have been fooling around for almost a month now.

You’re busy relishing over how perfect the last couple of days have been, wondering what breakfast Joel’s cooking up downstairs when the bathroom door bursts open.

“Hey,” he says, pulling on the shower door. “Out.”

“Huh?” you reply, eyes screwed shut, hair covered in soapy bubbles.

“I said get out. He’s here. Your damn dad’s here.”

Joel reaches around you and hands you a towel as he pulls you out of the cubicle and quickly wrings your hair for you. In a daze, you throw his tee over your shoulders and take his hand, following him out of the shower room and across his bedroom to the closet.

He turns you, hands tight on your shoulders, and ushers you inside.

“What’s he doin–?”

“I got a leaking pipe. He was passin’ by, dropped in to take a look. You stay here, do not make a sound, you hear?”

He closes over the slatted door gently, and you peer through the wood with narrow eyes. You hear footsteps approaching, your dad’s unmistakable chortle as the bedroom door is pushed open again and Joel shows him to the leaking pipe.

“Somewhere under there,” he mutters, hands resting on his knees to point to the space underneath his sink. “Had a look myself, tried some stuff, but it ain’t for fixin’.”

“Let’s have a look,” your dad bends down, groaning when his bad knees reach the tile. He’s almost shoulder deep under Joel’s cabinet, flashlight on, when Joel steals a glance in your direction.

He shakes his head, holding a hand up. Stay quiet.

He gives the room a quick scan, frantic eyes searching for any evidence of your being there. He swivels on the spot, twisting behind himself, noticing your cell on the nightstand at the same time you do.

Joel leans back, feet still rooted to the carpet, and fishes the phone between two fingers, slipping it into his back pocket. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Ah!” your dad exclaims, and Joel shoots straight back around. “It’s your trap.”

“Is that right? I had a look at it.”

“Mhm. Is your eyesight failin’? Look at this, son.” Your dad’s hand reaches blindly behind him into his toolbox and grabs a wrench. “Just the joint’s loose.”

Joel grumbles in response.

You hear the squeak of metal as your dad tightens the pipe and then the clank of his wrench being thrown back into his toolbox. With maximum effort – thanks to his bad joints – he straightens back up alongside Joel, who thanks him.

“Better be the last of my issues.”

“Ha! So little faith in me, ol’ boy. Anyway. I’ll get out of your hair. That’s a mighty good smell comin’ from your kitchen, don’t wanna hold you back from enjoying it.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” Joel says, and you can see him trying to usher your dad out.

But your dad, though you love him, is kinda fuckin’ annoying.

“Anyone special?”

“Huh?”

“You, cookin’? Naw. ‘s gotta be for someone good. Anyone comin’ over for a breakfast date? A…receptionist from a plant hire, perhaps?”

Joel’s eyes squint as he looks your dad up and down, taking his bottom lip under his teeth. “Nope,” he grumbles after a beat, with one shake of his head.

Your dad laughs a little, and then looks to something behind Joel’s back.

“Nice hat,” he scoffs, pointing a finger.

Joel doesn’t reply for a few seconds. You know he’s having the same realization you’re having: your cowgirl hat is hooked over the corner of his headboard.

He laughs. Nervously. Though maybe only you can hear that.

“Yeah, uh…yeah.”

“Looks a hell of a lot like a hat my daughter has.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks, sensing the same accusatory tone you do. Your forehead falls into your palm, hearing the almost pissed-off tone in which he asks, “And what would your daughter’s hat be doin’ in my bedroom?”

For fuck’s sake, Joel. Subtle, much?

“No, no,” your dad’s almost protesting, “I ain’t meanin’…” He sighs. “You know what I meant. Alright, I’m gone. I’m outta your hair.”

His boots recede down the hallway, then downstairs. Your breath doesn’t come back until you hear his car door slam shut, and the tires drive off.

When Joel pulls the closet door back, you’re still stood, towel in your hair, head in your hands. You can’t even look at him.

He doesn’t say anything like you expect him to. No, Sorry, baby, I didn’t know he was comin’. No, Come get breakfast, I’ll make it up to you.

He just wanders off back downstairs, leaving you to get dressed by yourself.

When you enter the kitchen, he’s plating up pancakes and drizzling them in syrup just the way you like. You pass him and run a hand over his shoulder blades, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch.

When you sit at the table, he puts the plate down in front of you. Silently. Then sits across from you.

You watch his every move. He picks up his knife and fork, and begins cutting into his own breakfast. Staring down at the plate. Then out of the kitchen window to the backyard. Then back to the plate.

You give his calf a light kick under the table, and his eyes lift, but only to your plate.

“You gonna eat?” he asks. Toneless. Less emotion than he talked to your dad with.

Without a word, you pick up your cutlery and start on your own pancakes, though your appetite suddenly disappears.

He made them with banana – your favorite – but the way he’s being with you right now, they taste sour and dry. You chew your way through as much as you can until you’re staring him down, desperate for him to –

“Would you just say somethin’?”

He looks up. Finally looks you in the eye. “What?”

“Say something. Get mad. Yell at me or something, I dunno.”

“Why would I yell at you?” He plants his fork into a scrap of pancake and drags his knife alongside it.

“I mean, you seem pretty mad right now.”

“I ain’t gonna yell at you.”

“But you are mad?”

Joel doesn’t reply. He leans to one side, fishes in his back pocket for something, then slides your cell across the wooden table toward you. He nods down at it, and you click to unlock it.

Dad: Hey, I’m heading over to Joel’s to check something out for him. Wanna meet me there?

Dad: If your slumber party’s over, that is

He sent them an hour ago. If you’d fucking looked, you’d have known.

“Fuck…” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, jaw chewing, “fuck.”

“He didn’t– I mean, he didn’t see me, though. Right?”

“He saw your hat.”

You lean back in your chair, cutlery clattering against your plate. “He didn’t know it was mine.” A smile forms on your lips, you can’t help it, but it quickly vanishes when Joel’s tone doesn’t shift. Not even a note.

“And how do I know he ain’t drive by your car on his way?”

“Aw, c’mon, man, I’m parked, like, four streets away.”

Joel shakes his head, eyebrows arched. “You’re unbelievable,” he whispers.

“Uh, okay. Thanks. Jeez.” You fold your arms and glare out to the backyard, face beginning to heat. Eyes beginning to sting. Joel’s never like this with you. Never mad, never disappointed. Never makes you feel like a kid being told off.

“I mean, your bikini’s hangin’ up out there,” he points his fork toward the backyard, “and ain’t your bag sat in my hallway? How in the hell he didn’t see that, I have no idea.”

“But he obviously didn’t, so what’s the big deal? It’s only a black tote, it could’ve been anyone’s.”

“The big deal is that he could’ve seen it, baby! And it’s not just anyone’s, is it? It’s his daughter’s.”

And the thing is – he’s not even wrong. You can’t argue back much, ‘cause you know as well as he does that everything he’s saying is true. It’s valid. Your dad would’ve walked right by that bag – twice. The same bag he saw you hook over your shoulder right before you kissed his cheek and skipped out of his room.

This whole time, you’ve been dancing on a knife edge. Waiting to be caught. You came too close this time, and Joel tells you as much.

“Alright, well, what do you want me to do? I can’t go back in time and move the damn bag. I’m sorry, Joel. I didn’t fucking mean to let him see–”

“That’s not the point,” he interjects, which is another thing Joel rarely does.

This whole argument is something Joel – something you rarely do. The two of you. The last time you saw him this animated, this angry over something, it was Arthur Kennedy eyeing you up at the barbecue. And even that – that wasn’t directed at you. He wasn’t mad at you.

“Then what’s your point?” you ask, hands slapping down on the table.

“My point is – how many times are we gonna come within touching distance of someone finding out about this? If it wasn’t Hank almost finding us upstairs, it was your dad waltzing right in while I had you fuckin’– while I was…” He sighs, and then throws his cutlery down onto his plate.

Your head drops, thinking back to the seconds of panic between your dad opening your front door and him seeing you two, an awkward, guilty distance apart. Your shorts under the couch. Your wet on Joel’s fingers.

Joel’s kitchen table blurs in and out of focus, tears swimming across your eyes. You rapidly blink them away, but they’re forming quicker than you can rid yourself of them. When he speaks again, you can’t look at him.

“Look,” he runs an almost trembling hand through his hair, rising from the table, “I gotta go. I got some things I need to do today.”

You stand to height opposite him. “You…gotta go? Right now?”

“Yes, darlin’. I got work stuff to see to.”

“Right. Sure.” You lift your plate, turning away, and hear him sigh.

“I’ll only be a couple hours. We’ll talk more when I’m back.”

You spin then, pursing your lips. “So, I’m to wait here for you? That what you’re sayin’?”

Joel’s already picking up his keys. “No…If you wanna go, you can go. Just…if you wanna talk, then stay. We’ll talk.”

You look up at him, no more words coming to the surface to say. He moves a lock of hair from your face, and heads for the door.

Wait here for him. What a fuckin’ joke.

Still, that’s exactly what you do.

You throw yourself down on his couch, flick on his TV. Put on another episode of Love Island. Think over which boy you’d pick, then decide it’d be none of them, and wonder why the hell you’re watching it in the first place.

You wander upstairs to his room. Sift through the shirts hanging in his closet – all different variations and prints of flannel because it’s Joel fucking Miller. Pull the sleeves to your nose, breathe in the smell of him. The sweet, sandalwood smell that wraps over you like a warm blanket; comforting, calming. Fix the pillows on his bed, punch out the lumps where you lay huddled against him last night, his body against – and inside – yours.

You feel hot with anger. Frustration. A little bit of guilt. It sits heavy on your head, drips down to your stomach, swirls around and mixes with the anxiety already in there. If he’d just come home, you could argue it out. Force whatever he really wants to say out of his mouth. Say a few things of your own back to him.

You never fight. It’s the one thing – you never fight. You bicker, you toss back and forth. You piss him off and he shuts you up with his words, or his lips, or with more. But you never really fight.

It’s like something’s different. As if something’s changed, right from under your feet.

Joel comes home two hours later. Lets the door shudder closed behind him, sighs as he kicks his boots off. You’re still upstairs in his room, perched on his side of the bed reading some stupid book on Alcatraz you found in a drawer.

“Baby?” he calls, and you don’t reply. You’ve little right to be as mad as you are, but he can search for you for a minute as reparation for walking out earlier.

“Hey…” he whispers when he pushes the door open, spotting you with the book resting on your thighs. “Alcatraz, huh?”

“It ain’t that good,” you huff, slamming it shut and sliding it across the nightstand.

He breathes a Hmph, then sweeps around the bed. Like he’s scared to make a sound. Like he’s trying not to be noticed. When he reaches you, he sinks into the mattress at your feet, elbow resting on your knees.

“We gotta talk.”

Do I want to hear this? you ask him with your eyes.

He sucks a deep, unsteady breath in, and his brows furrow. He sighs again.

And you know what he’s about to say.

“This…We’ve pushed this too far, now. We’re way beyond reining this in.”

You stare at his lips. Waiting for them to offer something more. When they fall silent, your gaze trails up the shape of his nose, curving around his brows and then finally falling onto his eyes. They reveal all you need to know.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. You’re not serious, right? Joel.”

“Kid, I…”

“No. What? Because of a bag?”

“Not because of a bag.” He looks you in the eye and shakes his head, whispers your name., then, “…because of the lying.”

“It’s never been a problem up until now.”

“It’s never been as bad as now. You ain’t been home in almost two days. Your dad has no idea where you are.”

“I’m not in danger, Joel.”

“You think he’d be happy? If he knew where you were really at right now? Knew you’d lied to his face this entire weekend?”

You sink back against the headboard, defeated. Desperately trying to find another way through what he’s saying. “What, then? What do we do? Come clean?”

He almost fucking laughs. Plays it off by pushing the air from his cheeks. “No. I don’t think we should…No.”

You shrug. “Then, tell me. Just fucking say it.”

Joel shakes his head, holds his hands out. “You’re lookin’ at me like I’m breakin’ this off outta the blue, baby. Like it’s comin’ outta left field.”

“So you’re breaking it off?”

“No, I’m– It’s not– I don’t…” He sighs, fingers pressing into his eyes.

You stand up, towering over him, silhouetted by the window behind you. “Just – fucking – say it. End it. I’ll go.”

“That’s not what I’m tryna do, kid.”

“What are you tryna do, then? There are two of us in this, Joel. You’ve been lying just as much as I have.”

“You don’t think I know that?” he hisses, standing up until you’re chest to chest, inches apart from one another. “Jesus, kid. I’m checking myself every fuckin’ conversation I have with your dad. Makin’ sure nothin’ I say will clue him in. Makin’ sure I don’t accidentally let slip what the hell’s been goin’ on!”

“I’ve been doin’ the same!” you yell back. “It ain’t just you, Joel, but that doesn’t seem to mean nothin’ to you!”

“Mean nothin’,” he repeats with a laugh, turning away and running his hands through his hair. “You don’t mean nothin’ to me? That what you think?”

“What else am I supposed to take from this, asshole? That you’re fuckin’ in love with me?”

He falls silent. His lips pull into a frown. He backs off.

Downstairs, his phone starts ringing. He glances to the doorway, shifts between his feet.

“You don’t get to do this, you know,” your voice trembles, “you don’t get to pull me in and then just drop me when it becomes inconvenient. Once you’re done with me.”

“Don’t.” Joel’s voice cuts like glass. “Don’t.”

You step back. Stare him down, try to make him say something. Try to make him do something. Your hands are on his biceps, eyes boring into his, swelling with tears you’re trying desperately to hold back.

Nothing. Not a word.

“I can’t read your mind anymore…” you whisper.

Joel takes a deep breath, his eyes flicker across your lips just for a second. He looks sad, eyes glassy, lines around his eyes where his eyebrows meet. But they tell you nothing.

His phone’s still ringing out, echoing through the silent house like an alarm bell.

You look at him blankly now. “Phone’s ringin’, Joel.”

He says nothing back, just looks at you from under his low brows.

You back out of his bedroom, shaking your head and stumbling a little over thin air. You’re staring at each other; you, trying to work out who the man is standing in front of you, and Joel, trying to plead with you to hear him out.

When you reach the threshold, you turn as if to run.

“Darlin’, come back. Hey.”

He follows you into the hallway and you feel his hand around your wrist. You whip it to your chest and turn to face him.

“Darlin’? Not your darlin’ anymore, am I? ’m just some girl you were fucking for a month.”

“C’mon, now, you know that’s not true.”

You lead downstairs, shoes thudding as you go. Joel’s right behind you, trying any combination of words to slow you down, make you look at him, stop for five seconds.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, your arm swoops down to grab your bag, and as you straighten up, Joel’s ringtone cuts and his machine beeps.

“Hey, Joel,” a woman’s voice fills the space between you both. Your head whips around to stare at the machine.

“It’s Lois. I was just callin’ to…to check in. It was really nice seein’ you today. Give me a call when you can, okay?”

The voicemail cuts and the two of you are plunged back into silence. Silence, save for the heaving of your breath. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your heart ready to burst through it. You haven’t taken your eyes off of the machine, red light blinking menacingly.

Joel lifts his hands. “That is not…It’s not what it sounds like…” he says, slowly, calmly. Quiet. Like you’ve never heard him speak before. Not We’re about to be caught quiet. Not even Quit arguin’ back quiet.

This is desperate quiet. And desperate’s not something you’ve ever heard pass Joel’s lips.

Your whole body is shaking, and you’re not sure whether it’s from adrenaline, or fear, or hurt, or pain. It takes most of the life inside you just for your lungs to open and close. You can’t fucking look at him. You can’t – fuck, you can’t even look in his direction.

You turn slowly toward the front door. You unlock it in a daze, and pull on the handle. The heat from outside hits you like you’ve opened an oven door.

“Baby…” Joel whispers.

“I’ll see you ‘round, Joel.”

----------

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daydreams-after-dark · 27 days

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What's your fanfic fantasy? part 2

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Chapter Contents.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13 // Part 14 //

pairing : fem reader + Chan + Jisung

This is an AU story about Chan bringing your fantasies to life... but what happens when boyfriends Chan and Han fall in love with you?

Chapter Summary: Jisung show you exactly what he can do to you. promising you will never not be able to imagine him fucking you. A surprise threesome ensues.

Warnings: oral sex, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, anal sex (m. rec), threesome.

“What was that Hyung?” Jisung asks but his eyes are firmly on you. How long has he been standing there?

“I didn’t catch what you said.”

Chan doesn’t take his eyes off you as he repeats himself, this time loud enough for Jisung, or anyone who might happen to be walking by to hear.

“I was just telling y/n here that you find it completely fucking annoying that she can’t imagine having your cock fill her up”.

Wow. How fucking blunt.

He breaks his gaze from you and looks up at Jisung who hasn’t moved. “Don’t you Jisung?”

Jisung nods.

Embarrassment floods over you now, dulling the dread just a little. You feel a pang of guilt. You realise you might be giving Jisung the impression that you don’t find him attractive, or that he isn’t fuckable. It isn’t him. You know plenty of people have the wildest fantasies about him. The problem is you. You're the one with some sort of fantasy cock block.

You feel awkward and out of place, out of your depth, but Chan and Jisung are giving off a dark, controlling and far from awkward energy. They seem to be quite fine with this, actually. It’s like time has slowed down for them. They are taking their time, silently planning their next move. They aren’t in a rush at all. It’s like they’ve caught their prey. You. And they are playing with you. Dragging out your fate.

It feels like an eternity before anyone speaks. And when they do it’s Jisung.

“Can I show her?” You can’t see his expression properly as the light is too dim. But from what you can tell he is giving off a mixture of energies: pissed off, lust and a hint of timidness. The timidness being toward Chan who seems to be orchestrating this whole situation.

“Yes, she needs to learn what it is you can do to her, so that she can’t imagine anyone but you fucking her.” Explains Chan.

Wait. What? Breathe. You need to breathe.

What did he just say? He needs to show you?

Jisung walks into the room, finally, and sits himself next to you on the couch. You won’t dare look at his face, instead you tentatively look down at his shoes in a bid to compose yourself. White sneakers. Okay. You slowly begin to run your eyes up his legs. Baggy jeans. You’re doing good. You trace his legs a little further up. Shit. He is fucking hard too. Even with the baggy pants and dingy light it is plain to see. Shit, don’t stare. To avoid lingering too long on his crotch, you quickly look up to a more appropriate eye line and see he is in an oversized black tee. His entire outfit is loose and baggy. It suits him.

You don’t want to look at his face. You're too ashamed. Why ashamed? Are you ashamed that you're finding this situation kind of hot? Ashamed to admit it because then Chan and Jisung would know you're into this? Even though, clearly, they are relishing this.

You try to push your thoughts aside and focus your attention on the collar of the shirt where it meets Jisung’s skin. His tanned, slender neck and protruding Adam’s apple looks so inviting. Your mind flashes to a vision of nibbling up his neck. Slowly. Taking your time.

Well, you can at least envision that, right?

Jisung scoots closer to you so that there is no space between you. The sides of your bodies are touching. You can barely breathe as he takes your chin in his hand and tips your head up gently to force you to look into his eyes. You have been avoiding his eyes, and you know why. You're held captive by them, like he's looking into your soul, like he can read your thoughts. His eyes are so big and Bambi-like and there is a desperate look in them, but his movements are confident and intentional.

“So can you at least imagine me this close to you ?” his voice is soft and low, and he casts his gaze down to your lips, almost brushing his lips with yours.

You shudder. He is so close you can feel his breath against your mouth. It’s intoxicating and it’s so intimate, although you know Chan is there too watching silently. You like that he’s watching, it heightens your arousal.

“What about this?” Jisung’s hand moves away from your jaw and begins tracing a circle on your knee with his index finger. Delicately, slowly, gently.

Your breath hitches, and you can feel yourself losing all rational thought.

With the side of his face still close to yours, he looks down to where his hand is and watches his fingers circling your skin, then looks back up to you to gauge your reaction. He bites his lower lip, his teeth digging into the flesh. God his lips are so soft and you have the urge to kiss him. You want to feel those lips on yours. You want him to bite your lip too.

As though sensing your desires, Jisung ever so delicately brushes his lips against the skin next to your mouth. He doesn’t want to give you what you want just yet. It appears he’s taking his time, making you wait.

He stops tracing your knee and places his whole hand on your thigh. His grip is gentle but firm with no hint of aggression or force.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs softly, his eyes downcast on on your lips.

You don’t say anything but lean your face in closer to his, and your lips meet. Gently. Just like all of Jisung’s movements so far, gentle but intentional. His lips feel soft and moist, and you immediately melt into the kiss. You part your mouth slightly and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips. His grip on your thigh tightens and you feel a sense of urgency and hunger rush over you.

You want him to kiss you harder, so you bring a hand to the side of his face and deepen the kiss. He gets the point and matches you with his own heated energy. The hand on your knee now moves around your waist, bringing you in closer to his body. Your breath becoming heavy as you both gasp for air between kisses.

This is better than anything you could have imagined alone in your bed fantasizing. You wouldn’t have ever been able to imagine the feel of his plush lips on yours, or his warm tongue, or the feel of his body pressed against you. The way it's making you feel, you wouldn’t have been able to do it justice in your mind.

He is so close and he feels so good. But you need him even closer. You forget where you are and that Chan is even there. Right now your whole world is focused on kissing Jisung, and how perfect it feels.

Until he pulls away abruptly. A little whine escapes you and you feel pathetic for giving away how you're feeling. Not that they can’t tell.

Jisung slinks down to the floor and kneels in front of you and you instantly feel both the urge to tense up due to how vulnerable you're feeling, and a sense of fuck it! and enjoy everything Jisung has to offer.

He places a hand on each of your legs and parts them, automatically hitching your skirt up to an indecent placement. This position allows Jisung to kneel closer to you between your legs.

“I need you to memorise everything I’m about to do.” Jisung looks up at you for a moment and then down at your legs. “I want you to memorise the feel of my breath and my lips as I kiss your inner thighs”. He leans down to kiss the top of your thigh near your knee. “I want you to memorise my tongue against your skin”. He kisses your thigh just a little further up. “Can you do that for me?” another kiss. Little gasps escape your mouth with each press of his mouth.

“Yes!” you respond, your voice raspy. You can feel a tension growing in your core and your whole body feels like jelly. Right now you'd let him do anything he wants. Absolutely anything.

“Good girl.” Another kiss to your skin. Good girl? Yes, you want to be a good girl for him.

“Y/n.” Chan’s voice is gentle and kind. You look over to him and Jisung halts his kisses.

“Jisung and I need you to know that you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You look back and forth between the two men. They are waiting patiently for your answer. For your consent.

“Okay, I want to continue for now,” you answer “and...I want to memorise your tongue buried in my pussy” you add, just to see how Jisung would react to such a statement.

With that the mood shifts. Jisung growls and hooks an arm under each of your thighs and drags you closer to the edge of the couch, positioning you in a semi-reclined position.

He resumes his kissing of your right inner thigh, and holding your leg in place so you don’t start trying to close them. His other hand explores your left thigh, gently caressing and stroking the sensitive skin.

Your breathing is heavy, your chest heaving. You can’t take your eyes off of Jisung as his kisses approach your aching, wet pussy.

“You’re so beautiful.” he murmurs.

“She is, isn’t she?” cooes Chan.

You glance over to Chan who is palming himself through his tight jeans. He’s fucking getting off on this too. It only makes you feel hotter, more aroused. Being watched like this, it was something.

You're brought back to Jisung as he takes his attention to your other thigh now, again pushing your leg wider with one hand as he greedily delivers hot wet kisses to the delicate skin. He is a lot messier and urgent now. His right hand reaches the juncture of where your thigh meets your underwear, a dark red lace thong.

Jisung’s mouth, his lips, his tongue are still giving your left thigh all the attention in the world as it moves up to meet the other edge of your lace panties. His right thumb pauses at edge of your underwear. You need him to touch you.

“You’re such a good girl for us, y/n.” Chan says, his voice sounds breathy and hoarse.

There it is again. Good girl. This is becoming too much. The situation, the gentle yet messy kissing from Jisung, laying here with your legs in the air, Chan watching. It is the most erotic scene you've ever been part of. You feel like your going to come as soon as Jisung’s fingers slip under your underwear.

“Please.” You whimper. Jisung lifts his gaze. He looks so fucking seductive.

“Please what?” His voice is deep and full of lust. He looks like he wants to devour you. “Say it.” He demands.

“Please… I need you inside of me.” You mean it too. You feel like the world is going to end if he isn’t inside of you soon.

Jisung stops his kisses but his hands remain dangerously close to your cunt. You just want him to slide his fingers through your wetness and press his tongue to your clit. You need him to.

“Why?” he pushes.

Oh God. Why is he making you wait?

“Because,” Your breathing is heavy and being so aroused is making it hard to speak. “I need to learn what it is you can do to me, so that I can’t imagine anyone but you fucking me.” You echo Chan’s words from earlier.

Jisung’s eyes turn even hungrier. “That’s right, that’s why I need to be inside you. You remember. Good girl.”

With that Jisung swiftly removes your underwear, sliding then down your legs and flicks them to the side on the couch.

“Let’s get this skirt off you too.” he proceeds to slip your skirt off too. It has ridden up around your waist and feels uncomfortable. You're glad to get rid of it.

Jisung hooks his arms under your thighs again, hitching you back into the position you were in before. With one last “are you ready?” look from him, he buries his face in your pussy. You're soaking wet and your lips are engorged, ready for Jisung’s mouth.

He begins to slide his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, and sucks it greedily before starting again. He lets out a hungry moan, showing you how much he is enjoying this. The sensation is almost unbearable. You're so close to your climax, with every languid stroke of his tongue bringing you just that little bit closer to the edge.

Perspiration begins to coat your skin and your breathing is rapid. You reach down with one hand and tangle it in Jisung’s hair, pulling him in closer. You let out a pleading whimper. You need him closer, deeper. You need him inside. You need him to fill you up and consume your entire being.

While his tongue is still delivering the most insane attention to your clit, you feel his fingers at your opening. You tense up in anticipation. Finally, Finally, he sinks two fingers deep inside of you and your body relaxes with relief as you feel the stretch. You let out a long, low moan as you accommodate his fingers. Jisung exhales sharply, and Chan releases a shaky breath from the other couch. This is intense for everybody.

You're so very close now. You slide a hand under your left thigh to hold it higher and wider to give Jisung as much access as possible. With your other hand still in his hair you hold on for dear life as he curls his fingers applying pressure to your g-spot. Your eyes squeeze closed and you throw your head back as Jisung continues to hit that deliciously tender spot.

“Come for him, y/n.” Chan’s voice is hoarse and raspy. Jisung’s pace quickens as he fucks you with his fingers and you roll your hips against his face. Harder. You need it harder. He gets the idea and fucks you even harder with his fingers. You can hear the heavy and ragged breathing from the two men combined with your moans and gasps for air, and the wet, slippery noises of Jisung’s fingers in your pussy.

You can’t hold it any longer and your orgasm hits hard. You're suspended in the moment and time is standing still. Your breath stops as you hit your peak. Then waves of relief melt through your body, oozing through your veins and out your fingers and toes. Jisung helps you through it with a consistent pace, gradually easing off as you come down from your climax.

Holy fuck. You rest your head back and try to catch your breath. Jisung pulls away and you groan at the emptiness. You close your eyes taking a moment to savour this feeling.

“Taste her, Hyung.”

Your eyes dart open to see Jisung kneeling back on his heels, arm outstretched towards Chan, offering his wet glistening fingers to him. Chan sits on the edge of the couch and takes Jisung’s hand in his.

They look into each other's eyes as he takes his fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking his fingers that are covered in… you. Chan takes his time, making sure he gets every last drop. Chan knows how you taste. It's so erotic. The two men look so - intimate in this moment, as though there is something more than friendship between them. You watch mesmerized.

“Shit. This tastes so good, Jisung. Do you think she will be able to forget you now?” he says.

“But Hyung, I haven’t shown her everything yet.” Jisung sounds mischievous, his eyes have a naughty look to them, and his jeans are tented from his erection.

You can’t help it. You have to say something. “That’s right,” you begin, “I need to know what his cock feels like.”

Jisung looks at you eagerly and scoots back to his previous position kneeling between your legs. He wraps his arms around you and despite his eagerness, presses his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. He breaks away and leans his forehead against yours.

“Can I please fuck you?” he whispers. He kisses you again, this time slipping his tongue inside your mouth. You can taste yourself on his tongue. All three of you have had a taste now.

Jisung’s breathing is heavy as he works his kisses along your neck while he waits for you to give the green light.

“Yes.” you whimper.

Jisung pulls away and gets up from the floor. “Chan, help me move the chaise” he removes the drinks and glasses from the chaise-coffee table and Chan gets up to help him slide the piece of furniture towards you. You lift your legs up onto the couch allowing the chaise to sit flush with it, creating a bed-like setup.

You look over to Chan whose tighter than tight pants can barely hold him in. He is certainly enjoying the show that's for sure, and you wonder what he was feeling and thinking as he sucked Jisung’s fingers?

Jisung is on to top of you, sliding you down and laying you on your back along the newly configured furniture. Kissing you, caressing your cheek. “I’m not going to let you forget me.” He lifts your shirt over your head and eases you up to remove your bra.

You sigh at freedom. Jisung sighs at the sight. Chan groans from the side and you can see him unbuttoning his jeans. Although you can’t see clearly, you do see him unzip his fly and release his erect cock. It’s big, and he begins to stroke it, his eyes fixated on what was unfolding.

You grab Jisung’s hair as you frantically kiss his lips, his face, anything you can get your mouth to. You run your hands down his back to the hem of his t-shirt. You want it off. You want his bare body against yours. You tug his shirt up and he breaks the kiss to remove it, tossing it aside with your clothes.

“After this you are always going to imagine my cock inside of you. You know that right? You’re not going to forget me.” He says confidently between kisses. He is so sure of himself.

He grabs onto your leg as he lowers his hips between them and you can feel how hard he is. You roll your hips against him, most likely getting your wetness all over his jeans. Your hands explore his bare torso, running them over his muscles. His shoulders. Oh God. They are so toned. His whole body is strong and toned. So this is what he’s been hiding under his baggy clothes?

Jisung stops kissing you long enough to finish undressing and resumes his position and you part your legs as wide and high as you can. You need him as close, as deep, as possible. He lays over you, propping himself with one hand, and uses the other to line up his cock to your entrance. His eyes are locked on yours. You swallow hard.

This is it. You're about to get fucked by Jisung!

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face in so you can kiss him. As you do he pushes into you. Slowly. All the way in. You both exhale in relief as he stretches and fills you. He pauses for a moment and leans his forehead against yours. It’s like this moment is almost too much for him. He looks into your eyes as he pulls out just as slowly, almost the whole way, then pushes his cock back in. Slow and steady, pausing for a long moment each time he is buried all the way inside of you. He does this a few times before picking up the pace and thrusting a little harder and faster each time.

“You’re so good taking me like this.” He says between thrusts. “So. Fucking. Good”. He pulls out almost all the way again, and slams into you hard this time. Over and over. The sound of skin against skin filling the room. The leather upholstery of the couch squeaking as you're being fucked into it. Your moans grow louder. Jisung’s kissing and touching becomes less controlled, almost frantic, as his hips snap violently against you. Chan is rubbing his cock with a look of delight on his face.

Sweat covers Jisung’s body, a drop rolling down his brow, and you bring your hand up to wipe it away. This feels so fucking amazing. He his fucking you relentlessly and you don’t want it to end.

“Jisung,” You pant “you feel so good." He grins at you, pleased, not slowing for a moment. You smile back at him and try to remember his expression for later when you're alone.

“Jisung, make sure you fuck her good.” Chan reminds you he is still here. Still watching. You notice him stand up and walk around the back of the chase behind Jisung and over to your left. Is he going to get you to suck him off? But he doesn’t come any closer. Instead, he kneels on the couch to reach over to a chest of drawers and pulls out a tube of some kind.

He swiftly removes his shirt, tossing it to the growing pile of discarded clothing, and 61 ?.',;tfplaces a hand on Jisung’s sweat-sheened back, and slowly strokes his hand along his skin until he is standing behind him.

Jisung’s breath gets caught in his throat as he registers Chan’s touch. You watch Chan from underneath Jisung, and see him squirt some of the tube’s contents into his right hand.

You feel your climax build at the mere thought of what might be unfolding. Chan holds Jisung by the hip and steps closer to him. You can’t see exactly what is happening, but then Jisung sucks his breath in hard and then moans. It’s the sound of being teased and stretched. You're sure of it. Jisung's thrusts become wobbly and then he stops altogether, staying buried as deep as possible inside you.

Then another sharp gasp and a look of absolute pleasure washes over his face. A second finger, perhaps?

“Jisung, you’ve been so good to y/n, you deserve to feel extra good today.” You watch Chan with his eyes fixated on Jisung’s ass, biting his lip, hungry for him. He gently strokes and caresses his hip and thigh, then the small of his back.

“Do you think you can make her come again?” he says as he thrusts his fingers deep into Jisung who moans loudly.

“Maybe we could get her there together?” Chan adds.

Jisung nods desperately. “Yes.” He manages to muster. His whimpers let you know Chan has removed his fingers, it sounds a lot like yours when Jisung pulled his fingers from you. Desperate and pathetic.

You see Chan quirt a large amount of lube into his hand, and what seems to be him applying it to his cock. From this angle you can’t really see what he is doing with his lower half, but Jisung’s responses are giving you a good indication of what's happening.

Chan presses himself up against Jisung and you can feel the pressure of it push Jisung into you. From the look on Jisung’s face, the pressure against you, and the increase in volume in his groans, tells you that that Chan is penetrating him. When you think Chan is fully inside, you wrap your arms around Jisung’s neck again and pull him into another messy kiss. You're close. Really, really close.

“Jisung, you’re doing so good for me, I just need you to go a little harder for a moment”. You're not sure if he has heard you but you know he has when he immediately picks up the intensity. Chan seems to be holding off taking things any further with him for a moment, instead guiding Jisung’s hips into a steady rhythm.

Your orgasm washes over you this time. Pleasure coursing through your body. You're overcome with a flood of emotions and feel like you might to cry.

Jisung is still declaring how you will never be able to forget him, but his words are starting to become incoherent and jumbled. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat and his eyes have become unfocused. He is struggling to maintain control of his senses, especially because Chan is starting to move in and out of him now.

You lock eyes with Chan. His gaze anchors you back to the moment, grounding you in some way while the man between you is a mess, falling apart, whimpering and moaning incoherently.

Your eye contact instigates some sort of unspoken agreement. You both need to take care of Jisung. Make the next part all about making him feel good.

You break away from Chan’s gaze and turn your attention back to Jisung. Your hands are still around his neck, so you guide his head to rest against your chest.

“Jisung, it’s time to us take care of you now.” You coo, stroking his face. He is incredibly beautiful when he's a mess. “Can you let us do that?”

“Mmm hmm… please” Jisung begs, still lost in all the sensations.

“You took care of me so good, Jisung. And you’re still so hard inside of me.” It is true. His cock feels harder than ever, and you can feel the jolts of Chan’s thrusts becoming harder and faster.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Jisung” you whisper. You continue to hold and stroke Jisung, whispering reassurances to him. It feels like Chan is fucking him to death.

“I’m gonna come…” Jisung announces all of a sudden, and you feel his whole body tense up and his cock pulse as he releases himself inside of you.

Chan continues to thrust, his hips slapping against Jisung. Jisung goes limp on top of you, completely exhausted and you continue to hold him tightly.

“You did so good.” You whisper so only Jisung hears. He lifts his head and you hold his gaze. His eyes well up with tears.

“I did?” Jisung sounds like he is in disbelief.

“Yes, you were perfect.” You smile.

“You really won’t forget me?” Jisung’s voice sounds desperate. What started out as an order, a confident declaration of how you wouldn’t be able to forget what it feels like to be fucked by him, has turned into more of a pathetic and hopeful question. It makes you feel a swell in your chest and you want to wrap him up and look after him.

Chan is still fucking him relentlessly trying to reach his own climax. He hadn’t been making much noise except for a few grunts here and there, when suddenly, without warning, he becomes noisy, with high pitched breathy moans. Then lets out a long low groan as he empties himself inside Jisung. He leans down and kisses his back, then pulls out his cock gently. “I’m going to get some towels.” He walks off for a moment to gather the aftercare items.

Jisung pulls himself out of you, and lays against your side while you continue to hold and stroke his face. ‘Holy shit!” he says, “I didn’t know this was going to happen!” he lifts himself off you and props himself up on an elbow. He has pulled himself together slightly and he grins blissfully.

Chan returns with towels and he helps Jisung clean up, and Jisung helps you clean up. None of you say much as you find your clothes and get dressed again. But you do share blissed out, freshly fucked grins.

a/n: I know I said this blog is not for my lovely dovey stories... but this fic has so much sex, with multiple people, that it's going to live on this blog.

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@rylea08 @channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @rixenluv @piscesrising01 @lunearta

#skz smut #skz fic #chan smut #han jisung smut #chan x reader #han jisung x reader #sorshas fic

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