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futureman · 9 months

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switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away.

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?”

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it.

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?”

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.”

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays.

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets.

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief.

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life.

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again.

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.”

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately.

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect.

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most.

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth.

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless.

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too.

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her.

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself.

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand.

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack.

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder.

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!”

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best.

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship.

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good.

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise.

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit.

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen.

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this.

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun.

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it.

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative.

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him.

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats.

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you.

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are.

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all.

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far.

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core.

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it.

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars.

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful.

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine."

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him.

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him.

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively.

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you.

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need.

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs.

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself.

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense.

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!"

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option.

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well.

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought.

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this.

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point.

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before?

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight.

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar.

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable.

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken.

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken.

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you.

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you.

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering.

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm.

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells.

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone.

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk.

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.”

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer.

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that.

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up.

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes.

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur.

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time.

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand.

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer.

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck.

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips.

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans.

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere.

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction.

Now, you want something else.

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either.

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all.

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken.

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie.

"Should ya be doin' that right now?"

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening.

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart.

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open.

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit.

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast.

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap.

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically.

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now.

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric.

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something.

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his.

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation.

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now."

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back.

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead.

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough.

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you.

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?"

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight.

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?”

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content.

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs.

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once.

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you.

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens.

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers.

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly.

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh.

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath.

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement.

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you.

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves.

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip.

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him.

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat.

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite.

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment.

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking.

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again.

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation.

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach.

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away.

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives.

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.”

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful.

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free.

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately.

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache.

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth.

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that.

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does.

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would.

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could.

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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jaeyunverse · 10 months

Text

the 24-hour dating challenge

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genres: fluff, crack, mutual pining, suggestive, best friends to lovers, influencer au

wc: 8145

warnings: profanity, hoon is a loser and down bad sawry, you can’t see the mutual pining but that’s a skill issue on my part bc i swear it’s there, fic is completely from sunghoon’s pov, this was supposed to be short and sweet but it got kinda spicy towards the end LMAOAO but nothing happens so dw!!

summary: being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.

moodboard: one ☆ two

note: omg i didn’t think i would struggle w this oneshot but i lowkey did w the last part ☹️ i think it’s bc it has been a while since i raw dogged a fic HAHDHS anyway i hope the end doesn’t seem super abrupt and y’all enjoy! i would love to hear your thoughts + feedback :’)

inspiration: evelyn and fred (♡)

masterlist

“Your followers want me to do what?”

Sunghoon was positive he’d misheard you. However, part of him hoped you’d confirm the life-altering information you’d casually uttered without even bothering to look away from the TV screen.

“Hoon!” you exclaimed, your fingers aggressively moving about the gaming console. “Oh, my God, they’re coming after me! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK—” you screeched— “Nonononono I can’t take them by myself! You testicle-guzzling cocksucker, why did you die when I needed you the most?!”

Sunghoon watched you struggle warily. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety and your eyes were bulging out of their sockets. He wasn’t entirely sure you were breathing. Beads of sweat were clinging to your forehead, and your face was scrunched up in a weird, constipated expression.

There was a good chance you’d utter fouler insults if he disturbed you while playing, but he couldn’t stop himself from broaching the subject. “Are we just going to pretend you didn’t say the thing you just said?”

“The thing about you being a testicle-guzzling cocksucker?” you gritted. “No.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The thing about your followers wanting us to date for a video.”

For a few moments, you didn’t deign to acknowledge him. Then, as if a switch inside you had flipped, you pulled the TV’s plug and turned to face him. “Would it be weird?”

Wow. Okay, Sunghoon mused. I think it would be a fantastic idea and a dream come true, but I don’t trust myself around you. Even as a mere friend.

However, instead of voicing his thoughts, the boy simply shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve been friends for several years now. I’m a regular on your YouTube channel and I think your fans are aware of the dynamics of our relationship. What do they mean when they say they want us to date? Physical intimacy aside, we already do everything couples do.”

“I think they want us to be romantic,” you admitted. “Go on a date, hold hands, cross some lines.”

“Cross some lines?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip curling in a smirk. “Is this you speaking or your subscribers?”

Groaning in exasperation, you shoved his shoulder. He fell back on the couch, laughing. “Shut up, dickface! You know I’ve been swamped this semester. My influencer gig has been seriously lacking. I need to step up—do what they want me to do. Besides, we only have to be girlfriend and boyfriend for 24 hours. It’s really not that big a deal. Are you in or not?”

Sunghoon took a few seconds to mull over your words. Sure, he would love to be your boyfriend for 24 hours. As long as his fantasies were brought to reality, he didn’t care if the whole relationship was fake and short-lived.

For far too long, he’d pined after you. He thought he was doing an excellent job at hiding his feelings, but then you decided to make vlogs for fun. That’s when shit actually went downhill.

Within a few years, you’d amassed a following of over 5 million on YouTube and 3 million on Instagram. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’d become somewhat of a local celebrity.

Being one of your closest friends, Sunghoon was often featured in your videos. Initially, he’d baulked at the idea of being filmed, but you’d worked your magic on him. The boy soon found himself being comfortable around cameras.

Even though Sunghoon never started his own YouTube channel, his popularity grew along with yours. His Instagram had garnered over two million followers, and courtesy of his good looks and attractive physique, he’d been offered a bunch of brand deals too.

You’d scowled at how far Sunghoon’s pretty privilege had gotten him. While you busted your ass coming up with unique ideas and editing your videos to perfection, all he needed to do was show up.

What you didn’t know, though, was that part of the reason he’d become a heartthrob among the youth was you.

You might have been dumb and blind, but your followers certainly were not. They’d realised how Sunghoon looked at you—his eyes always twinkled and a fond smile automatically adorned his lips whenever he caught sight of you.

To add to that, your fans had pointed out habits he didn’t even know he possessed. For example: idly braiding your strands; bringing you snacks whenever he swung by your apartment; saying hey, sunshine and giving you a side hug by way of greeting; disguising his compliments as insults.

The list was embarrassingly long.

They’d noticed the elastic he kept around his wrist at all times too—it was one of the two you’d used to tie his hair into little ponytails because you were convinced you could transform him into Boo from Monsters, Inc.

Sunghoon himself had forgotten the reason he wore the elastic around his wrist. All he knew was that it was yours and it felt right. But when he read the comments obsessing about it, he rushed to watch the video your fans were referring to.

And damn, they were right.

Sunghoon didn’t know if you’d seen the comments your fans regularly left on your various social media pages. You’d never mentioned anything about the community calling you “couple goals,” and he was too much of a coward to inquire if you were aware.

It was infuriating to know how transparent he was. Sunghoon wished he’d never gotten used to the camera and let slip his true self.

Perhaps this was the cost of gaining the boyfriend material label—his unrequited feelings exposed for the entire world to see.

Sunghoon would never admit it, but he’d spent the better part of a day reporting everyone who’d shipped him with you. The entire incident had truly made him go off the rails.

However, today’s revelation was unexpected. It was an opportunity. A chance to experience something he’d desired for many years. Suddenly, he found himself thanking those busybodies online instead of cussing them out for being ridiculously invested in his love life.

Sunghoon knew saying yes to your proposition would bite him in the ass later on. He knew he’d crave more of you once he got a taste of being your boyfriend, and giving this fake relationship a shot would definitely make it harder for him to get over you in the future. He knew he was a massive idiot for willingly indulging in impending heartbreak, but he could always cross that bridge when he came to it.

“Okay,” he said, meeting your gaze. “I’m in.”

There was a small chance Sunghoon was getting ahead of himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken it upon himself to organise the perfect date.

Being bitchless his entire life wasn’t doing him any favours in performing the task. Originally, he’d figured he would do a quick Google search and plan a day according to the results shown.

Unfortunately, most activities on the list were things the two of you already did on a normal basis. He’d racked his brain to think of a unique idea after scrolling through the internet for hours on end and coming up empty-handed.

Karaoke? Check. Restaurant hopping? Psh, you did that every weekend. Rock climbing? He was scared of heights. Bowling? Boring. Concert? None of your favourite artists were in town. Clubbing? He would rather spend quality time with you than get both of you wasted. Arcade? Basic and low-budget; he didn’t want to be cheap. Road-trip? Needed more than just 24 hours.

Sunghoon wondered if he was the problem. He’d shot down every option he’d come across so far by classifying it as not good enough. His stress levels were skyrocketing trying to make your 24-hour relationship perfect.

An entire day’s research had ended up being fruitless. You’d decided to go through with the challenge on Sunday, so he only had tomorrow to come up with something satisfactory.

Sighing, Sunghoon rubbed his eyes and closed his laptop. He eyed his phone on the bedside table for a few seconds, contemplating whether he should just call you and ask if you had anything in mind.

Before he could rethink his choice, he picked up the device and dialled you.

“Hey.” Your voice on the other end was deep and hoarse. A glance at the wall clock informed Sunghoon it was past midnight, and he’d likely woken you up. Guilt twisted his stomach. “Is something wrong?”

“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was late,” he mumbled. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I was watching a movie and passed out halfway through it. I needed to finish it anyway.”

Lying back on his bed, Sunghoon inquired, “Ready or not?”

“Yeah.” You huffed a laugh. “I finally got around to seeing it. Your choice, as always, is impeccable.”

Though you couldn’t see him, he raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say you dozed off in the middle of it?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s because I’m not a stupid nocturnal with no care for their sleep cycle and health.”

“Ouch.” Sunghoon clutched his chest. He could practically hear you roll your eyes. “No need to be so harsh.”

You hummed absent-mindedly, a yawn escaping your lips. “Was there a reason you hit me up, or can I get back to the movie?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Do you have any suggestions for the challenge? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I haven’t come up with anything interesting.”

“Not really. I tried researching a bit, and there isn’t much we don’t already do. I’m starting to wonder if the only difference between a platonic and romantic relationship is physical intimacy. I’m sure we can reach a consensus though,” you added.

Sunghoon groaned. “This is proving to be more difficult than I—”

“WAIT!” you interrupted him with an exclaim. “How about a picnic date? We’ve been talking about going on one with the rest of our friends for ages, but it’s never worked out. Let’s go—just the two of us. We can choose outfits for each other too! I’ll order you something online, and you do the same for me. We can spend the rest of our day doing whatever you want.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Right?” you giggled. “Maybe we can spread a blanket in the park under a tree and have a nice brunch. I’ll organise it!”

“I’ll take care of dinner and plan another activity for us to do between the two meals.” He grinned. “Looks like we might actually be able to pull this off, Y/N.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to film a video,” you admitted.

Sunghoon’s heart fluttered, and his lips widened into a smile. “Me too.”

Everything was set. You’d received the dress Sunghoon had ordered for you, and he’d taken delivery of the one you’d bought for him.

Upon opening the package, Sunghoon was surprised to see you’d accidentally ended up matching outfits. While he’d chosen a white summer dress with blue flowers for you, you’d picked out a white graphic tee and low-rise, faded blue, baggy jeans for him.

The fit was minimal—something that he would have purchased if he’d seen it in a mall.

Grabbing a pair of sunglasses and running a hand through his messy hair, Sunghoon made a beeline for his car. He shot you a quick text regarding his ETA before backing the vehicle out of his driveway.

[hoon]: omw be there in 10

[y/n]: okie i’ll wait for u. call me when ur outside!!!!!!!!!

Averting his gaze to the road again, Sunghoon took a deep breath. He’d finally planned the perfect day out. It took a lot of effort and coordination on his part, but the several favours he had to call in were worth it.

He’d probably gone over the top, especially considering the fact that this wasn’t even real, but he was determined not to half-ass anything. He had one chance, and he’d damn well make sure he didn’t waste it.

Turning the corner of your house, Sunghoon dialled your number. “I’m here.”

“Coming,” you popped, the sound of your footsteps descending the stairs audible through the call.

He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the backseat, got rid of his sunglasses and exited the car. Your door opened a few seconds later, and Sunghoon’s world slipped from under his feet.

God, you were beautiful. So beautiful and so fucking pretty in the dress he’d chosen for you. The material fit you perfectly—it accentuated your upper body and was flowy from your lower waist. The dress was almost ankle-length with a side slit that began at your upper thigh. Your shoulders and collar bones were exposed, a gold pendant filling the empty space the deep square neckline left in its wake.

Your left shoulder was carrying a tote bag, and your right hand was holding a large picnic basket. Much to Sunghoon’s surprise, your free hand was wrapped around a bouquet too.

Snapping himself out of his reverie, he took the basket from you and placed it inside the car. “You look amazing, sunshine,” he breathed. “Just—wow.”

Giggling, you did a little twirl for him. “Thanks! I love what you’ve done with your hair. It makes you more attractive.”

Sunghoon mock-saluted and bowed dramatically, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Took me ten minutes to style it.” Glancing at the flowers in your hand, he asked, “You got me flowers?”

Maybe his eyesight was faulty, but Sunghoon felt your entire demeanour suddenly change. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you averted your gaze from his and shyly mumbled, “You took it upon yourself to plan the majority of the day. The least I could do was gift you some flowers.”

Right when Sunghoon thought he couldn’t love you any more than he already did, you went ahead and did this. He’d never received flowers in his life before, and the gesture meant everything to him.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took the bouquet from you. “Thank you,” he said, voice heavy with gratitude. “Don’t kill me, but I don’t know the name of these flowers.”

Laughing, you pinched his cheek. “They’re asters.”

“What do they mean?”

“Why don’t you search it up when you go home?” you quipped. “Let me know once you find out.”

Sunghoon shrugged and handed you the flowers he’d bought for you. “Sunflowers for my sunshine.”

A wide grin broke across your lips. “They’re my favourite!”

“I know, dummy,” he said, flicking your forehead and opening the passenger’s door for you. “That’s why I got them for you.”

“Be nice!” you complained as he walked around the car. Taking a seat beside you, he started the engine and began driving. “I’m your girlfriend!”

“I just opened the door for you,” Sunghoon pointed out, promptly ignoring the way his heart rate picked up. “I think I’m being gentlemanly enough.”

“That’s not a word.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“This is why you get no bitches.”

“I got you.”

“Are you calling me a bitch?”

“I’m calling you mine.”

Snorting, you said, “Not your best save, Park.”

Biting down the smile threatening to break across his lips, Sunghoon said, “I’ll survive, but you should really start recording.”

“Right,” you gasped, your eyes widening. Fetching the DSLR from your tote bag and switching it on, you placed it on the dashboard carefully. After ensuring that the camera was rolling, you began, “I’m in the car with Sunghoon right now. He just picked me up, but I lowkey forgot to record it.”

“Y/N was too busy gawking at me,” Sunghoon teased and raised an eyebrow at the lens. “I’m too attractive for my own good.”

“Nobody’s buying your bullshit.” You rolled your eyes. “But if you do think he looks cute, it’s because I chose his outfit.”

“And if you think she looks beautiful, that’s because I chose her outfit.”

You nodded. “He did. We thought kicking off the challenge this way would be cool. Clothes were ordered by both of us individually, which means neither of us had any idea what had been chosen by the other until we met ten minutes ago. Crazy how we still ended up matching.”

“We exchanged flowers too. Y/N got me asters, and I got her sunflowers.”

“Hoon has no idea what asters signify,” you commented and nudged him with your elbow. “He didn’t even know the flowers I gifted him were asters.”

“Don’t shame me for not being a nerd!” Sunghoon defended himself. “Only you can be the kind of person who reads The Language of Flowers and indulges in floriography because they’re bored.”

“Aaaand the worst boyfriend award goes to this guy sitting right next to me,” you announced, shooting him a nasty glare. “He’s been annoying me from the moment he came to pick me up.”

“I opened the door for you!”

“How long are you going to milk the one gentlemanly thing you did?”

Sunghoon scoffed in disbelief. “I thought gentlemanly wasn’t a word.”

“I lied,” you popped and grinned cheekily.

“The problem with this relationship is you, woman, not me.”

Laughing, you turned to the camera again. “We’re going on multiple dates today. I’ve organised a picnic brunch, and Hoon has organised dinner.”

“It’s a surprise,” Sunghoon explained. “But I can assure you that it’s going to be the coolest thing ever.”

You hummed in agreement. “I believe him. He always gives the best surprises. Anyway, I’m going to stop recording now, and I’ll see you guys once we reach the park. I think we’re almost there.”

“Five minutes,” Sunghoon provided.

You grabbed the DSLR and brought it close to your face. Cupping your hand over the lens as if you were telling it a secret, you whispered, “T-minus five minutes to the best picnic date ever. Bye!”

Despite it being June and most kids being on vacation, the park wasn’t crowded.

Even though it was almost 10:30 and the sun was merciless, there were plenty of people jogging on the track. Sunghoon spotted a laughter club in session a few hundred metres away from where you’d laid your blanket under the tree.

Thanks to the clear sky and blowing wind, more than a few people had taken out their own picnic baskets and decided to enjoy the weather. A bunch of middle-schoolers were playing basketball about fifty metres away from your tree, and though Sunghoon would have appreciated the peace, it was fun to watch them run around on the court.

You’d set up the camera immediately upon arrival. Even though it was still rolling, neither of you were aware of it. It lay forgotten to the side, and as far as Sunghoon was concerned, it was just the two of you.

“It’s a beautiful day,” you mumbled, gathering your strands and tying them up in a messy bun. “Really fucking hot though.”

“You have some relief, at least,” Sunghoon said, pointing at your exposed shoulders and flowing dress. “I’m fully covered and positively dying in here.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Oops. That’s my bad.”

Laughing, Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair. “What did you get for us to eat in that basket of yours?” he asked. “It was pretty heavy.”

“Nothing much,” you answered and dragged the basket closer to you. Opening the lid, you pulled out Tupperware containing watermelons, muskmelons and mango slices. You’d also prepared a heart-shaped pizza and baked half a dozen macarons. Finally, you fetched a bottle filled with peach-iced tea and a pair of champagne glasses.

Sunghoon gaped at the assortment of food you’d arranged. “Did you make everything by yourself?”

“I wish,” you snorted. “Mom made the macarons and delivered them via FedEx. I don’t have the patience to bake.”

“Okay, but this is still crazy,” Sunghoon said, amazement evident in his tone. “The amount of effort you’ve put in is insane.”

Blushing, you shoved his shoulder. “Stop! You’re embarrassing me!”

“I’m complimenting you!” he exclaimed, and served himself a piece of the pizza. “Bringing homemade food is the best thing you could’ve done. And God, this is delicious. I’m going to wife you right now.”

You laughed incredulously. “Slow down, Romeo. We just started dating. How about you show me a good time first?”

This. This was exactly the reason why Sunghoon didn’t entirely hate being stuck in the friend zone. Because no matter how much you told people you were just friends and there was nothing going on between the two of you, you were constantly flirting.

The only reason he was afraid of confessing his feelings was that he didn’t know much of the flirting was real. It was the dynamic of your friendship—neither of you thought it was weird making suggestive comments. You were too comfortable with each other to let such things bother you.

Sunghoon could no longer tell whether your relationship was still platonic. He was too hopelessly in love with you to keep knowing the difference between a joke and genuineness. His heart surged every time you said something only a romantic partner would, and his heart shattered every time he reminded himself that you didn’t actually mean it.

You never meant it.

But Sunghoon was a selfish person. He was going to take what he could get. He would rather be unintentionally strung along than give these moments up. The minuscule part of him that hated you for the pain you were causing him was nothing compared to the part of him that loved you unconditionally.

Forcing himself out of his reverie, Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you. “In front of everyone?”

“You’re so gross!” you snickered, your eyes shining with mischief. “I obviously mean when we get home!”

I’m going to kill myself, Sunghoon thought. I’m going to kill myself before she kills me.

The two of you had finished eating almost thirty minutes ago. Now, you were just lying on the blanket and staring at the sky, having conversations about the most random topics.

You were talking shit about some know-it-all guy in your physics class, but Sunghoon wasn’t really paying any attention to what you were saying.

He was still stuck on what had happened an hour ago when you’d urged him to feed you because “that was what couples did.”

Sunghoon didn’t give a shit what couples did. His biggest problem at the moment was his mind replaying the incident like a broken record. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d already known he was being an idiot by agreeing to come on this date, but he never thought he’d regret his decision this quickly.

“Are you okay?”

Blinking, Sunghoon spared you a glance. “Peachy.”

“Those kids over there are calling us,” you told him, pointing to the basketball court. “We should go see what they want.”

Nodding, he pulled himself to his feet and gave you a hand. Leaving the DSLR under the tree wouldn’t have been safe, so you grabbed it and the two of you made your way to the children waiting for you.

“Hey,” a perky boy greeted you enthusiastically. “I’m Hyun. We’ve been playing basketball for the past several hours. The team that wins 6 out of 11 matches has to treat the other team to ice cream. Unfortunately, 2 of our friends left, and now it’s just the 6 of us divided into 2 teams. We really don’t want to play half-court, but we can’t play full-court with a team of only 3 each. Do you guys want to play the last few matches with us? One match only lasts 15 minutes.”

Sunghoon exchanged a look with you. Then, you glanced at your spot under the tree. Lastly, you checked out your outfit—the slit exposing most of your leg and the lack of coverage for your shoulders.

“I have a pair of shorts and a shirt in my car,” he informed you.

You took a moment to weigh your options. Honestly, playing in the open when the sun was out to torture everyone didn’t sound appealing. There was also the issue of you needing to switch outfits, and you didn’t know if you wanted to take the effort of changing inside Sunghoon’s car.

But kids had always been your weak spot and the little rascals were staring you down with their puppy eyes.

You sighed. “Fine. We’re in.”

“I haven’t played in a while,” Sunghoon admitted. “I think it’s been over 6 months.”

“I haven’t played since varsity girls either,” you said. The kids had left to take a break a few minutes ago and the court was empty save for the two of you.

You’d changed into his clothes, but the shirt was too long for you. So, you’d requested him to tie the extra into a knot at the back. Thankfully, the shorts could be tightened at the waist with lace.

Sunghoon could get used to you wearing his wardrobe.

He idly dribbled the ball the kids had given to him for safekeeping while you stretched your stiff muscles. “Then I guess we get to evaluate whose skills have become more rusty.”

“Free shots?” you asked, eyes alight with a competitive fire and a smirk tugging at your lips. “We can test our aim and get a feel of the baskets on this court. It would be a good warm-up exercise.”

Sunghoon poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Bring your camera here. Record me from up close. I’m going to go for a layup.”

“Wow,” you scoffed but did as you were told nonetheless. Before stepping onto the court, you’d filmed Sunghoon and yourself, explaining that you were about to play basketball with a bunch of kids. Naturally, you’d decided not to record the match in order to respect the privacy of the children. “Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? I’m telling you right now that I won’t care if you miss the shot. I will use it to humiliate you in the video.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

You switched on the DSLR and pointed the lens at him. “We’re doing free shots till the kids come back from their break,” you said. “Hoon’s convinced he can land a layup even though he hasn’t touched a ball for several months.”

“Don’t condescend me,” Sunghoon grumbled as he walked to the 3-pointer line. “It’s not like I’ve completely forgotten how to play. I’m pretty sure I can nail a simple shot.”

“We’ll see.”

“You know what,” he called. “I’m going to dedicate this layup to you so that when I make it, you’ll know not to doubt my athletic prowess.”

All you did was raise an eyebrow.

“This one’s for you, babe!” Sunghoon announced and began running. The ball was a number 6—smaller than the size 7 he was used to. The grip was worn due to excessive use, but he still had complete control over it.

However, he misjudged the distance from the hoop. He realised a second too late that he’d taken the first step of the layup later than he was supposed to.

The ball collided against the rim and rebounded.

“Air ball!” you hollered and zoomed into Sunghoon’s face. “Athletic prowess found to be missing! What a shame!”

His cheeks, along with the tips of his ears, were red with embarrassment. He couldn’t even bring himself to look into the camera after making such a big fool out of himself.

“I am begging you, Y/N. Can we please edit that part out?”

“I’m kicking your ass, Park.”

“I suggest you take the over-confidence down a notch.”

You smirked, dribbling the basketball in place. Sunghoon was blocking the way to your side of the court, and each of the kids on your team had a man on them. Playing in the sun for so long must have tired them out because no one was making an effort to get rid of the shield standing in front of them.

The last match was a 1v1 at this point.

“I’m not in the habit of lying,” you said, and dribbled the ball from between his legs.

Sunghoon cursed under his breath and chased after you, but you were speeding away from him faster than he could keep up. The layup was clean and effortless. You barely broke a sweat.

“SUCK IT!” you screamed. “Your team is going down!”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. He watched your team—Hyun, Chul and Dae—do the victory dance you’d taught them. It was hilarious because none of you had any coordination. The arm wave move made it seem as though all of you were having a seizure.

“We still have fifteen seconds of the match left,” he pointed out, and pat Iseul’s back in reassurance. “Don’t go celebrating just yet.”

“You’re four points behind. Just admit defeat,” Dae said. “We’ve won!”

“We’re not surrendering,” Hajoon said angrily. “Sunghoon will make sure we win.”

“Boys!” you interrupted loudly. “Let’s finish the championship sportingly. We’re playing for fun.”

Chul muttered something under his breath that Sunghoon and you chose to ignore.

“Seojoon,” Sunghoon called quietly. “Now that we have possession of the ball, I need you to pass it to me from below. Then I need Hajoon and Iseul to gang up on Y/N. Don’t push or shove; just keep her away. The worst thing we can do is commit a foul. The rest of the boys won’t be a problem, but I’ll need Seojoon to act as my shield in case they try to take the ball from me. Do not let anyone come near me under any circumstances. I’m going to go for a 5-pointer.”

The trio audibly gasped.

Iseul nervously asked, “Are you sure you can score?”

“Not without the three of you helping me out.” Sunghoon nodded. “Y/N is quick and slippery. Keep your eye on her. We’ll lose if she gets possession of the ball. I’ll take care of the rest.”

The boys let out a sound of agreement and dispersed, taking their respective positions.

Sunghoon searched for you, and when your gazes met, he made a gesture of slitting his throat. This time, you rolled your eyes and dismissed him without a word.

“Let’s start,” you announced with a clap and got into position. He noticed you were standing away from the basket. The rest of your team was too. It dawned on Sunghoon that you’d positioned everyone in a way that would prevent them from committing a foul which would grant his team free throws.

It was smart and reasonable of you to think that way. Sunghoon wasn’t known for landing 5-pointers. Heck, he never even attempted them. He usually went for layups and 3-pointers.

Focusing on the game, he took a deep breath. Seojoon passed the ball at him as soon as you yelled Go!

Sunghoon dribbled to your side of the court immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you hesitate, but your mouth parted in realisation the second you caught onto what he was doing.

“Stay on her!” he yelled at Iseul and Hajoon. “Don’t let her go.”

Sunghoon dodged the rest of your teammates. Seojoon wasn’t doing a good job at keeping them away, but he didn’t have enough time to dwell on it. He could do this by himself as long as you were out of the picture.

Sunghoon eyed the basket and bent at his knees, gathering enough momentum to jump. He’d been hitting the gym more often, and he hoped to God his hard work wouldn’t fail him at such a crucial time.

Exhaling once, Sunghoon jumped and let the ball fly across the court. The moment the ball was out of his hands, you crashed into him, knocking him to the ground and falling on top of him.

“Ow,” he muttered, his arm wrapping itself around your waist on instinct. “That’s foul play.”

Before you could bite back, Sunghoon heard someone scream, “No way! Sunghoon did it!”

Sunghoon grinned and craned his neck to look at his teammates. A laugh tumbled past his lips when he saw them doing the floss dance and playfully teasing the losing team.

The sound of your groan made him avert his attention to you. You’d raised your head to find out whether Sunghoon had made the basket, and upon realising that you’d lost the match, you let it fall on his chest again. “Man,” you grumbled in defeat.

“Aw,” Sunghoon teased. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Who asked?”

Snorting, Sunghoon loosened his grip around your waist. Rolling off him, you laid down on your back in the middle of the court next to him. “Am I supposed to buy you ice cream now?”

He checked his watch before answering, “Nah. Let’s go home and freshen up. It’s almost time for my date.”

“The beach,” you marvelled. Both of you were standing on a cliff overlooking the expanse of sand and water. “I should have guessed.”

Sunghoon agreed. It shouldn’t have been hard to pinpoint the venue of the date once he’d requested you to wear shorts and sandals. However, your obliviousness had worked in his favour.

The entire thing was supposed to be a surprise. It was supposed to sweep you off your feet.

He averted his attention from the ocean to find that you were already staring at him. A soft smile was adorning your face, and with the breeze ruffling your unbound hair, you looked nothing short of a fairy tale.

“Do you remember the last time we came here?” you inquired, and returned your gaze to the view again. Sunghoon didn’t bother to take his eyes off you—he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The reflection of the sunset in your irises was too intoxicating. “Jay, Jake, Yizhuo and Isa were with us. We spent the entire night talking around a bonfire. I couldn’t keep myself awake once the clock struck two. You tucked me close and let me rest my head on the space between your shoulder and neck. You kissed my forehead and promised me you’d wake me up in a few hours.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He only kept staring at the image of the sunset in your eyes—the way the ocean consumed the ball of fire the same way his love for you consumed his very being.

Love shouldn’t hurt this much, he thought. It shouldn’t be this painful.

“I remember the way you smelt,” you continued. “Like vanilla and sandalwood. I remember wanting to pull you closer because you also smelt like home. I hated moving to a new city for college. I missed our hometown. I missed life being simpler. I missed the old times. But those brief moments before I fell asleep reminded me that not everything had changed. The clumsy boy I’d met in kindergarten was still with me. Sure, he was a bigger pain in my ass than he had been when we were kids, but he hadn’t left my side even once. And I knew he wouldn’t for a long time.”

“You’ve been the only constant in my life, Sunghoon,” you mumbled and turned your body towards his. Snaking your arms around his waist, you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for being a good friend to me. I love you.”

And though Sunghoon knew you didn’t mean it the way he wished you did, he returned your embrace and confessed, “I love you too.”

“What the fuck?” you whispered and let go of Sunghoon’s hand to jog ahead. “WHAT THE FUCK? IS THAT A CANDLELIGHT DINNER?”

Laughing in amusement, he pocketed his hands and watched you freak out. The beach was usually crowded at this hour, but he’d asked Jake—the surfer of their group—if there was anywhere he could spend the evening undisturbed.

“Your eyes do not deceive you,” he joked as he approached you. “I know it’s kind of corny, but this was the most romantic date setting I could think of.”

“Corny?” you exclaimed incredulously. “This is amazing!” Nudging him with your elbow, you teased, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You would have known a lot more if you’d asked me out before,” Sunghoon smirked, a suggestive undertone to his comment. “But I suppose we can make do with what we have now.”

You snorted. “You’re insufferable.” Then added, “I don’t want to shoot us having dinner here. Maybe I’ll just film the date set-up and our outfits, but I think I want this evening to remain between us only.”

“Oh.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, that works for me. Do you want me to get your camera?”

The next five minutes were spent recording the date he had organised. The food was prepared by Jay, whose chef father had taught him a thing or two before the boy moved to the city for college. Sunghoon had dragged Yizhuo and Isa with him to shop for decor.

They’d bought a soft blanket which was now spread on the sand. He’d also purchased six couch pillows to make the setting cosier. Fairy lights covered the perimeter of the throw.

The coffee table Sunghoon had stolen from himself and brought to the beach was filled with all kinds of your favourite food, a scented candle burning in the centre of it.

Since he’d known he couldn’t escape you to set up everything that he’d planned, he’d begged his friends to do it for him. Obviously, they’d teased him about it on their group chat, but he’d ignored them the way he always did.

“I have another surprise,” Sunghoon popped as the two of you settled down on opposite sides of the table. “I don’t know if you’re going to be up for it though.”

“Is it the wine?” you asked, eyeing the corked bottle partially hidden under one of the pillows. “Because I saw it long back, and I am all for getting drunk.”

Sunghoon chuckled. “Nah, it’s not the wine, but yeah, we’re getting drunk. There’s absolutely no doubt about it. But,” he continued, “I’d been going through Pinterest to search for date ideas when I called you in the middle of your movie a few nights ago. After our talk, I remembered you’d made this board with Karina when you were a thirteen-year-old.”

You gasped and reached over the table to smack his arm. “You stalked my Pinterest?! That is so uncool! There’s tons of embarrassing shit on there! I should have privated those boards when I had the chance,” you muttered to yourself.

“Then I wouldn’t have rented a projector for us to watch a movie after we finish dinner.” Sunghoon grinned cheekily. “We are not watching some sappy romcom though,” he warned. “Soap2Day came in clutch so we can watch Suzume or Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3. Your choice.”

Your mouth parted in surprise. For a few moments, you didn’t say anything. With a raised eyebrow, Sunghoon watched you struggle to form the words. “Okay, I know it was creepy to stalk you on Pinterest—”

“NO!” you blurted, your eyes widening. “It’s not creepy! I just—No one has ever done anything of this sort for me. I don’t know what to say except… thank you.”

Before he could reply, you buried your face in your hands, and muttered, “Gosh, I sound so ungrateful, but I really do appreciate it. More than I can express.” Raising your head, you looked straight into his eyes. “I have this extremely strong urge to kiss you right now. Would it be fine with you if I acted on it?”

Sunghoon stopped breathing. His smile dropped, and his heart skipped a beat. The entire world could have crumbled, and he would have remained frozen in place, trying to make sense of what you’d just said.

“W—what?” he croaked.

You broke off the eye contact and dropped your gaze to the ground. “Sorry. That was stupid of me—”

“Yes,” Sunghoon breathed. “Yes, it would be fine with me.”

You exhaled, appearing visibly relieved, and that somehow made him feel better about the sharp turn the evening had taken. Of course, he was thrilled you wanted to kiss him, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if you’d regretted voicing your thoughts.

Licking your lips, you unfolded your legs and scooted away from the table. Instead of standing up, you got on your knees and made your way towards him.

Sunghoon also moved away from the table to make space for you, and once you reached him, you swung your legs on either side of him. Straddling his lap, you towered over him.

Snaking your arms around his shoulder, you glanced at his mouth.

Even though it was driving Sunghoon out of his mind to not close the distance between your lips, he let you take your time. You traced your thumb across his lower lip and then shifted your hand to the back of his neck.

Weaving your fingers through his hair, you let your eyes flutter shut and lowered your mouth over his.

Sunghoon’s entire universe exploded into shards of molten light. A tidal wave of emotions crashed into him, setting his nerves on fire and making fireworks explode inside his chest.

The boy couldn’t have kissed you back any faster. Tilting his head to the side, he pulled you closer by the nape.

Settling in his lap, you tugged at his hair, the nails of your other hand digging into his shoulder.

A groan slipped past Sunghoon’s lips. God, he’d coveted the taste of you for so long, and now that he was finally kissing you, he realised he’d never estimated the magnitude of his love for you accurately before.

Because this… this was everything. Sunghoon felt on top of the world, and pure euphoria was coursing through his veins. He couldn’t get enough of you. A single kiss would never be enough to satiate him. The floodgates were thrown open, and the thought of this being a one-time, impulsive thing made his gut twist painfully.

He knew he needed to tell you. Right here, right now, he needed to tell you the truth.

“Y/N.” Sunghoon gasped, breaking the kiss. He was leaning back now, his weight resting on his left elbow. The desperation and urgency with which you’d come onto him had been more than he could handle. “I need to tell you something.”

Your eyes remained glued to his lips and there was a tinge of disappointment on your face. As if you didn’t want to stop. As if you wanted to keep going.

With a jolt, it dawned on him that you probably wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

The epiphany alone was enough for Sunghoon to consider ditching his plan of confessing his feelings and instead close the distance between your mouths again. But, he steeled his nerves and pushed himself into a sitting position.

He didn’t bother asking you to get up from his lap nor did he bother removing his left hand from your waist. If this confession went sideways, he’d end up losing you anyway.

“What is it?” you whispered, your disappointed expression giving way to concern and nervousness. “Did I go too far? I’m sorry—”

“Stop,” Sunghoon ground out. “Please stop. Let me speak.”

You pursed your lips, but he could tell you were scared shitless. There was fear in your eyes, and he hated making you feel as though you’d done something wrong when you’d given him the one thing he’d wanted more than anything else.

“I…” Sunghoon started, forcing himself to find the courage to say the words. “Y/N, I love you.”

There it was. He’d done it. The cat was out of the bag, and all he could do now was wait with bated breath.

Your mouth parted open, but no sound came out of it. Your face was unreadable. It was void of any emotion. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sunghoon tore his gaze from yours and let out a humourless laugh. “Right. That’s okay—”

But then he felt your hands grabbing his jaw, making him pin his attention on you again.

There was pure, unadulterated joy on your countenance, a wide smile adorning your lips. “I love you too,” you breathed. “Oh, my God, Sunghoon, I love you too.”

Sunghoon blinked. “What?” he mumbled, his mouth set in a pout due to your squishing his cheeks.

You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his puckered lips. “I love you too,” you repeated.

Gripping your hands, Sunghoon removed them from his face and stared up at you in bewilderment. “You’re serious?”

“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?”

“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?” he shot back. “I’ve loved you since high school.”

You snorted. “So have I.”

“Sophomore year.”

“Same.”

“I knew right after the homecoming ball.”

“Sucker!” you exclaimed. “I knew right after the game!”

Sunghoon frowned. “It’s not a competition, Y/N,” he said, and then added, “But if it were, I would win. The amount of effort I’ve put into hiding my feelings is insane.”

“Sure,” you drawled. “That’s why all my followers keep saying it’s clear you’re in love with me.”

The tips of his ears turned red in embarrassment. “You saw the comments?”

“Of course I did,” you answered, your voice soft. “I just never believed them. The notion never seemed possible. Isn’t it crazy how it was real this entire time?”

Sunghoon chuckled. “We’re idiots.”

“We are,” you said, smiling at him in affection. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have ever said anything about what I truly felt if you hadn’t found the courage to confess to me.”

“I know, I know,” you defended and rolled your eyes when he gave you a pointed look. “I did ask if I could kiss you. Trust me, I was more surprised than you were. Heck, I was fully prepared to play it off by spouting some bullshit in case you said no. What you did for me, Sunghoon… I couldn’t keep the urge inside me anymore. I didn’t care about the consequences. I didn’t care that there would be no turning back—I knew I had to take the risk. And I’m glad that I did.”

Sunghoon’s heart swelled with joy. “Me too.”

“Wait,” you said quickly. “How’d you know you were in love with me?”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he answered, “While we were dancing at homecoming. You didn’t have a single move in you, but you didn’t wanna be the only one not dancing, so you started doing what you’d learnt in Zumba. It was hilarious—watching you be clueless but still killing it on the dance floor. It made me proud of you, but more than that, it made me realise what I felt for you.”

“Aw,” you cooed. “That’s really sweet of you, but I definitely knew what I was doing.”

“Let’s not ruin the moment by lying to each other.”

“You’re such a dork!”

“It’s your turn now!” Sunghoon grinned. “Tell me!”

“Okay, but you have to promise not to judge me,” you warned. “My story is embarrassing.”

Locking his pinkie with yours, he promised, “I won’t.”

“Remember how you sat with Yeojin at the game?” you asked, to which Sunghoon nodded. “Well, I’d been saving seats for us. I fought a lot of people to keep the seat next to me vacant, but you didn’t even acknowledge me when I called your name. Yeojin caught hold of you, and you went to sit with her without bothering to check if I was around.” Shrugging, you mumbled, “That made me mad and jealous and upset. Not just at her, but at both of you. I’d never been possessive over my friends, and I’d never felt such ugly emotions before. There was only one reasonable explanation.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows flew up. “Woah. I’m sorry for what I did.”

“Nah, it’s cool. It was loud at the game and I don’t think you heard me.” You laughed and waved him away. “I was being petty. And I know it’s not cute like your story, but that was what made me realise there was a chance I loved you.”

“Cute or not, that was the best story I’ve ever heard,” he said cheekily. “Also, don’t get me wrong—I would love nothing more than have you sit in my lap, but I think we should finish dinner first. Let’s finish what you started once we’re done eating.”

Your eyes widened, and you scrambled away from him. “Right.”

“Wait!” Sunghoon grabbed your wrist before you could get up and go back to the other side of the table. “The asters—what do they signify?”

You smiled and leaned closer to his face, pressing the gentlest of kisses to his cheek.

“Love.”

2K notes · View notes

tofupixel · 2 months

Note

Do you have any advice on how to get into pixeling larger scenes, or how you go about the process? I dabble in pixel art occasionally and am interested in pursuing it more, but whenever I try large scenes I always tend to fall flat

Love your art, by the way!

thank you!

my first step i always go get a ton of references. i think if you are struggling with pixel scenes it can help you to get some pixel art references too. for example if you arent sure how to render a tree, look it up on pixeljoint hall of fame im sure you can find something that inspires you.

this is the moodboard for my current knight crowley/statue azi piece im working on (software is called pureref btw. i have a dedicated monitor just for this but you can do transparency and overlay it if you lack space)

i think this is mostly preference but i always begin working with large areas of value/colour rather than an actual line sketch

i usually only save the wip process if im sending it to clients, so here is an example of how i worked through a commission

at this point im just going for the vibes. colour is more important and shape/size and having random pixels everywhere doesnt matter cos u can just remove them later !!

its kind of an anomaly/doomsday thing so i wanted the red sky and chaos all over

i work really quickly at this point and try for energy

just beginning to work my way through and detail things up. im still changing things around and adding more stuff in different places. its digital art so you can change things however you like, just keep moving forward

final ver sent to client after some revisions. pixel art is 99% rendering so you just need to keep pushing forward

i also want to say i did like 3+ years of sporadic studies. mostly studio ghibli and shishkin. if you have someone who inspires you you can study their work and figure out how they do it.

it cant be overstated how many of these i have done lol and im still not even close to where i want to be (its a process)

anyway sorry for the long post but you really should go for it. ive done the same concept like 3 times over my career (so far) cos i enjoyed it and want to come back to it now that im a little better. so u dont have to make it perfect the first time but doing it is better than not doing it!

sorry for the long post but i kinda got carried away anyway lmk if u want more specific tips i like talking about pixel art :--3 GL with your art

#qna #pixel art #pixel art tutorial #art tutorial #tutorial

411 notes · View notes

scuderiahoney · 3 months

Text

Blackbird

Daniel Ricciardo x reader

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a bartender at a mountain lodge. When Danny shows up, you’re determined to keep your distance. It doesn’t really go to plan.

a/n: definitely inspired by this moodboard I made for the lovely @shootingstar-scuderia for my 1k celebration!

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: alcohol, mild sexual content

People come and go at the lodge, but they don’t stay for long. That is, except for you and your coworkers. They’re the only consistent people in your life. The customers, the guests- they pass through like ships in the night. They tell their stories, share their adventures, and then move on. It’s half the fun, really.

You should’ve known he’d be different from the very start. Most of them come in, sit down at the bar, and are eager to tell you all about themselves. They want to impress you, want to prove that they’re the biggest adventurer in the whole place. And sure, the road to the lodge is rough and steep and half the time it’s washed out. But most of them arrive in vehicles driven by guides, and they tote their expensive luggage through the lobby, decked out in brand new hiking gear bought special for this trip. When he shows up at the bar, he’s in a threadbare t-shirt, a pair of loose shorts, and a worn down pair of hiking boots.

He’s flanked by friends, ones who have genuine smiles on their faces and are dressed much the same. He seems to be the ringleader. The first thing you really notice about him are the tattoos scattered up and down his arms. He rests his elbows on the bar, looks utterly at home there. You wander down to take their order.

“I’ll have whatever beer you’d recommend,” he says, Australian accent shining through.

You get a lot of people with accents in the bar. They come from all over. You’re not surprised at the accent, though you might’ve guessed he was American from looking at him. You nod and pour him a glass of your current favorite before taking his friend’s orders and doing the same. He takes a sip and sends you a wide grin, one that seems genuine. People smile at you a lot, trying to get a discount on their drinks or look good in front of their friends or sometimes, more than that. But this just seems… real. Like he always smiles that brightly.

“That’s good,” he says, nodding eagerly. “A woman after my own tastes.”

You laugh and nod. “You’ve got good taste, then.”

He preens over that, runs his hand through his hair. Then he sticks the other one out to you, over the bar. “I’m Danny.”

You shake his hand, the way you do each time someone introduces themself to you. You try and commit his name to memory, because he’ll likely be back a few times before he leaves the lodge and they always tip better if you remember their names. He repeats your name back to you, like it’s not written plain as day in your nametag, like he actually cares.

He tilts his head towards you. “So. How’d you end up here?” He asks.

You raise a brow at him. “Normally I’m the one asking that question.”

He laughs. He folds his hands on each other and rests his chin on them.

“Exactly. You must hear about a billion of the same stories, rich people on their vacations, roughing it in the woods,” he laments. “So come on. What’s your story?”

You’re not sure why you tell him. Looking back, in the interest of self preservation, you probably should’ve lied. But at this angle, he’s staring up at you through thick, dark eyelashes. He has the prettiest smile you’ve seen in months, maybe years, maybe ever. So you look down the bar, make sure nobody’s waiting on you. Danny and his friends are early, so you don’t have much to worry about.

You shrug. “Graduated high school. Decided college wasn’t for me.” You pick up a rag, rub at a spot on the bar just to look busy, just to avoid looking right into his eyes. “I’ve been on the move ever since. I landed here about a year ago- cheap room and board, good tips, and,” you jerk your thumb towards the large picture windows looking out over the valley and mountains. “The view’s not so bad.”

Danny laughs at that, and his gaze flickers to the windows. The sun is just barely beginning to set. Soon the tourists will pour into the bar and restaurant, hungry and thirsty from their days full of adventures. But right now it’s quiet. The calm before the storm.

“Nice,” he says. “Bet you’ve got a lot of cool stories.”

You shrug, though you smile a bit at the thought. “Yeah. Hasn’t been a bad life, you know?”

He nods. Someone sits down at the bar, and you head down to take their order. Soon enough, you’re too busy to stop and chat with Danny, having to limit it to quick drink requests and offhanded remarks. You swear you feel his eyes on your the whole night. He closes out the tab a little before 9:00, pays for everyone and leaves a big tip. For a second, you remember that he’s probably just some big wig exec from some tech company, cosplaying as an outdoorsy man for the weekend. And that’s fine, you’ll support it as long as he’s nice to you.

He tosses a grin over his shoulder as he leaves, and sends a little wave your way. You swear he winks. And really, it was that moment that you should’ve known that Danny was going to be a problem for you.

…..

The employee cabins are in a secluded spot on the property, but you prefer to have your morning coffee on the back porch of the main lodge. It’s got the best view, the coffee is free, and at this hour, there’s nobody else up. Nobody, that is, except the man from the bar the night before. Danny, you remember. Huh. Usually it takes longer for the name to stick.

You watch over the edge of your book as he comes jogging up the path. He’s shirtless, skin glistening with sweat. It’s early morning, the sun barely poking up over the horizon, and it’s not that warm yet. Either he’s been working hard or he’s out of shape. From the glimpse you catch, you decide he’s definitely not out of shape. You force your eyes back to the book as he makes his way towards you. You won’t be caught staring at the shirtless guest. That would be a bad idea.

Said shirtless guest walks right up to you, though, and sticks his finger into the spine of the book, tugging it downward. You quirk a brow and look up at him. The audacity to interrupt your reading- you’re not sure how to even react. Your face betrays you as a smile crosses your lips.

“Good book?” He asks, nudging the cover.

You shrug. “It’s okay. I’ve read almost everything good in the library here.”

Danny wrinkles his nose. “You said you didn’t like… you know. Academic stuff.”

“I said college wasn’t for me,” you clarify. “I like reading.”

He nods in understanding, that signature smile on his lips. “So what’s this one about?”

You blink up at him. “Dragons.”

“Sounds fun.” He looks to your cup of coffee, sitting on the table in front of you. “S’the coffee any good?”

You nod. He takes a couple steps towards the building. “Can I sit with you? None of my friends are up yet.”

“Well it is 6am, and you’re on vacation. Can’t say I blame them.” You say, dancing around the question.

It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him. In fact, you have a strong urge to lean close and learn everything about this man. But he’s a guest and you’re an employee. They encourage you to be friendly with the guests- it helps them feel at home, your manager says- but not too friendly. Besides, Danny will be gone in a few days, and he’ll forget all about you the week after. It’s how it goes.

But he turns and raises his brows at you, and you sigh and nod. “Yeah, you can join me. But I want to read, so…”

“I’ll be so quiet,” Danny promises.

He scurries off to get coffee. You let out a long breath and pick the book back up. You’re definitely going to regret this decision. Danny doesn’t seem like the quiet type.

In his defense, he manages to stay quiet for about ten minutes. He sits down in one of the chairs next to yours, leaning back and sipping his coffee. From the angle, you can peek up over the edge of your book and sneak glances at him. He has his eyes closed, or at least close to it. He’s still shirtless, though you can see the t-shirt he must’ve been wearing hanging from the waistband of his shorts. You’re not looking at him, really- just trying to tell if he’s looking at you.

Then he starts to fidget. First he crosses his legs, then uncrosses them. He stretches his arms above his head, fingertips spread wide. Then he slouches in his chair and lets out a heavy sigh. You meet his eyes over the top of your book.

He raises his eyebrows. “What are you doing up so early, anyways?”

You should be irritated. This is your quiet morning- he’s interrupting your personal time. You come out here to drink coffee and read and listen to the birds, not some rich man trying to talk your ear off. But. He’s so genuine about it. Like he actually wants to know. Be friendly to the guests, you think.

“I’m a morning person,” you tell him, resting your book on your lap. “And I love it here before everyone wakes up for the day, you know? Like it’s just me and the world.”

He nods in understanding. He props one foot up on the chair, bends his knee close to his chest. His shorts slide up to reveal a whole mess of tattoos on his thigh. You tell yourself not to stare.

“That’s how coming here feels for me,” he says, softly. “Nice to be away from people for a bit.”

You’re starting to wonder if maybe he’s different.

“Like a breath of fresh air,” you suggest. “But for your mind and heart, too.” You pause and roll your eyes at yourself. “Sorry, that’s a bit hippy of me to say, but-“

“No, I agree,” he says, softly.

Someone opens the door to the lodge and calls out his name. You swear his face drops. He turns over his shoulder and nods, and then pushes himself to stand up.

“Well. See ya ‘round,” he says, voice soft.

You nod and pick up your book again. “See ya.”

…..

You get to know him, bit by dangerously intriguing bit. He works for Red Bull, apparently. Doesn’t give many details past that, so you assume it’s boring. He does know Scotty James-

“There was a guy who came here last winter, a snowboarder, he had a Red Bull helmet-“ you say, snapping your fingers. “Scotty something, wasn’t it, Will?”

Will, your coworker, is cleaning glasses at the bar. He raises his brows at you, and his gaze flickers to Danny, and then he says “Scotty James.”

You nod and turn back to Danny. “You know him?”

Danny laughs. “I was in his wedding.”

Danny also has a ranch in Australia where he rides dirt bikes in what he refers to as the ‘off season’, whatever that’s supposed to mean. He shows you a video, and honestly, you’re not one for adrenaline but it looks pretty fun. You suggest they talk to your boss about taking the ATVs out on the trails, and he perks up at the sound of that.

Danny tells you about his family, too. About his parents, his sister, his nephew and niece.

“M’trying to teach them good music,” he tells you on the back porch one morning. “None of that little kid shit.”

You laugh. “None of the educational shit, you mean.”

“Music’s not for your brain,” he scoffs. “It’s for your soul.”

“There’s at least 100 scientists who would definitely disagree,” you tease.

You agree with him more than you’ll ever let on.

When he walks into the bar one evening and you have his drink already waiting for him, you start to wonder if you’ve grown a bit too attached.

…..

Your boss, Michael, calls you up to the main lodge early the next day. He’s bent over the front desk, crossing off names and writing new ones down. He looks up at you with wide eyes, brows furrowed.

“Hey. I know you’re not up on the rotation yet, but d’you think you could cover an overnight camping trip?” He asks. “Sadie’s out sick, and Billy’s got a family emergency.”

Though your main job is in the bar, all of the staff take turns taking guests on overnight trips in the mountains near the lodge. You hike out with them, help set up all the gear, start the fire, and then help pack up the next morning and hike back. Depending on the group, it can be fun. When they’re not too high maintenance, you can sit around the fire and tell fun stories and get paid to do it. Other trips, you end up setting up all the tents and doing all the work and then you get ignored for most of the night.

“It’d be you and Will,” your boss adds.

Will’s one of your favorite coworkers. The two of you get along great. Michael knows this, and you wonder for a moment if he’s already talked to Will, or if you’ll be a bribe to get him to agree, too. You lean over the counter and sigh.

“Are they gonna be annoying?” You ask. “Like. Are they the type who’re wearing the brand new gear, or no gear at all, or are they somewhat okay?”

He juts his chin towards the back porch, and you follow his gaze. Danny’s out there, throwing a football back and forth with one of his buddies. You quirk a brow and turn back to Michael.

“He didn’t ask for me, did he?” You ask quietly.

Michael’s brows furrow. “No. Is he making you uncomfortable? You know you can tell me-“

“No,” you insist, shaking your head. “He’s nice. Just, you know, checking.”

Michael nods. “So? What d’you say? You’d leave tomorrow, come back the next morning. Quick out and back.”

You shrug and nod. “Got nothing better to do.”

The guys are missing from the bar that night. You see them come in later, arms around each other, probably just back from some sort of expedition. One of them- Blake, you think his name is- is trying to corral all of them, reminding them of their big hike the next day. They disappear into the elevator. Just before the door closes, Danny looks straight at you and gives you a wide grin.

When you meet them in the lobby the next morning, his grin stretches even wider.

“No way,” he says, eyeing your hiking backpack and the boots on your feet. “Not only are you the best bartender, you also do guided hikes?”

You nod and smile. “Only one at a time, though. Unfortunately I’m not very good at making drinks in the backcountry.”

Danny shrugs. “We’ll survive.”

You clap your hands and look around at the group. “Alright, campers, you ready to hike?”

They all nod and chime in with various agreements, so you pick up your bags and head for the doors. Danny falls into step next to you near the front, while Will takes up the back of the pack. You run through your usual spiel that you do when you lead a hike, and then you’re off.

It’s peaceful for a few minutes. Like the guys are all trying to act like good naturalists, like they’re trying to soak it all in. And then Danny trips over a rock, and someone teases him for it, and it’s all downhill from there. It’s entertaining, really- the way they pick on each other. You can tell they’re genuinely friends.

You take a break for lunch at a perfect spot overlooking a valley. Danny whistles lowly when he sees the view, and he elbows you lightly.

“You take all the guys to this spot?” He jokes, wiggling his brows at you.

You roll your eyes and elbow him back. “Just the ones who are stupid enough to follow me deep into the woods.”

That earns you a full bellied laugh, one that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. You’re struck again by how genuine he is, how his walls are down or maybe even nonexistent. It makes your chest ache.

You eat lunch together, and you point out the mountains by name from the little overlook. They’re all great at playing along. They ask how the peaks got their names, which one is your favorite, if you’ve ever made it to the top of any of them.

“That one,” you say, pointing at one of the smaller peaks. “Mount Mirlo.”

“Mirlo?” Danny asks, testing out the word.

You nod. “I think it means… blackbird? Yeah. In Spanish.” You nod your head towards the mountain. “Anyways. They drag everyone up there the week they first get hired. It’s a hazing thing.”

“It’s not hazing if it’s fun,” Will chimes in, and Danny laughs. “Admit it. You had a good time.”

“I got bit by so many mosquitos and very sunburned,” you deadpan. Then you grin. “But yeah, it was sick.”

You set back off on the hike after lunch. Eventually, you come to a log bridge over a river. Danny peers over the edge as you wait on the other side, brows raised. There’s a little spot where the water pools there.

“Looks like a good spot to jump in.”

You laugh and wrinkle your nose. “That river is absolutely frigid. It’d be like an ice bath.”

He shrugs and grins at you. “Just saying.”

The camping spot isn’t far from the bridge. Once you arrive, you begin to unpack the tents to get them set up, while Will starts getting things ready for the fire. You unroll the tents, lay out the poles, and then-

Danny’s next to you, hands on his hips. “How can we help?”

You blink up at him from where you’re crouched near the ground. “Oh, you don’t have to… usually we do the set up.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “We came here to go camping,” he says. “Tell me what to do.”

They all get started setting up the tents, and you’re amazed at how much quicker things go when there are more people actually doing work. The camp is set up in record time, and someone helps Will gather firewood. Danny insists on helping to make dinner, too, and soon everyone’s sitting around the warm fire and eating happily.

“No food in the tents,” you warn, looking around the group at all of them. “It goes in the bear box. You don’t want a bear to come looking for breakfast in your tent.”

Danny nods in agreement with wide eyes. As everyone finishes dinner, they start chatting. You sit down on the dirt and stretch out backwards, staring up at the purple hues sky. The sun is setting, and when you lay down fully on the ground, your back aches. Danny, who’s sitting next to you, lays down too and lets out a long groan. You laugh.

There’s something about the proximity that has your heart racing. His hand is next to your on the ground. If you reached out just a little you could touch his warm skin. Nobody would even notice.

A bird lands in the tree. You pull your hand away to point at it instead.

“Blackbird,” you say, and Danny nods.

“Mirlo, right?” He says. You nod in response.

The bird starts singing. You mimic the sound by whistling, albeit not very well. You drop your hand back to the ground next to you as you do, and Danny laughs affectionately, attempting to whistle too. You swear you feel his pinky touch yours, and your whistling falters.

Will pulls out the marshmallows soon after. Everyone gets excited over that. You all wander around to find good sticks to roast them with, and then meet back at the fire. You watch in absolute horror as Danny takes his marshmallow and sticks it directly into the flames. It lights on fire mere seconds later, and by the time he pulls it out with a panicked noise and blows on it frantically, it’s charred and black. He gives you a sheepish look. You sigh.

“You’re so bad at this,” you say, shaking your head.

He nods in agreement. “Always have been.”

His friends try to give him instructions, but it’s no use. By the time he’s on his third burnt marshmallow, everyone else is on their second s’more. You take pity on him- before he can char another one, you take the stick from him and roast it for him. You stare in concentration, finding just the right spot and turning it carefully until it’s roasted perfectly golden brown. Will helps you assemble the s’more, and you hand it to Danny with a soft smile.

“Here,” you say, quietly.

He takes a bite, then lets out a soft moan that has you heating up in a way you shouldn’t be. “That’s amazing,” he says. There’s melted chocolate stuck to the corner of his mouth, and your fingers itch to wipe it away for him. “I crown you queen of s’mores.”

You curtsy, nodding your head at him. He laughs and nearly drops the treat. You spot the issue before he does, and your fingers bump clumsily against his as you try to assist him. His hands are warm, and probably sticky from the marshmallows. You don’t let your touch linger long enough to find out.

Eventually, everyone heads off to bed one by one. Will gives you a questioning look when it’s just the two of you and Danny left up. One of the guides always stays up until all the guests go to bed- it’s a safety thing. You nod to Will, and he stands and stretches and heads for bed. The two of you are sitting on a sideways log next to the fire, and once Will goes into his tent, it’s just the two of you, the flames, and the dark expanse of night.

“Spooky,” Danny says quietly.

You nod. “You get used to it, after a while. The dark gets a little less scary. The quiet, too. When I first got here, the quiet was so…”

“Loud?” He says.

You laugh, but he’s right. “Yeah. Loud.”

He nods in understanding. “It still feels like that for me. My day to day life is so noisy, you know? The quiet is a little overwhelming.”

You nod and nudge his shoulder. “That’s gotta be good for you, though. Healthy, I think, to take a break from the noise.”

His shoulders drop, and he leans against you, just barely. “You’ve got no idea, little mirlo.”

You laugh and lean into him, too. He’s warm and firm against you. You could reach out, could touch him, could tuck yourself right into his side. He’d probably wrap his arm around you, probably pull you close. You bet he smells good, like sweat and smoke and laundry detergent, and maybe vanilla, or something spiced and warm, or…

His pinky bumps against yours on the log. You suck in a breath and look up at him. There’s a question in his gaze, one that has you nearly choking on thin air before he even asks it out loud.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, nearly a whisper.

And you want to say yes. God, you want to say yes. But-

“Look, Danny,” you say, keeping your voice low. “You’re a sweetheart, really. And you’re cute-“

“Perfect, so-“

“But I don’t date guests,” you say, leveling your eyes at him. “Or, like- I don’t do hookups, or get close with guests. It’s against the workplace rules, and it’s a recipe for disaster.”

He smiles softly- you think somewhere deep in your heart, you knew he’d react like this. With kindness, understanding. He tilts his head, and he squeezes your knee gently.

“Okay,” he says, softly. “I’m not going to push you on this, because I don’t want to be a creep. But if you change your mind-“

“I won’t,” you say. You’re not sure if you’re trying to tell him or yourself.

“I know,” he agrees. You think he’s lying, too. “But if you do, promise you’ll let me know?”

You snort out a laugh and stick out your pinky. “Promise.”

He goes to bed soon after that. You stay up until the fire goes out, staring at the coals, wondering if you’ve made the right choice.

….

When you wake up the next morning to a shuffling noise outside your tent, your first thought is that the bears have finally come for you.

Your second thought, when you hear Danny’s laughter, bright and loud, is: why the hell is he awake? You can tell from the light outside that it’s barely morning. You hadn’t been planning on waking up for a few more hours, really. You hear him whisper your name loudly, and you groan, reaching to unzip the door to your tent just slightly.

He’s crouching in front of your tent, wearing a wide smile. “Wanna come jump in the river?”

You wonder for a second if this is some insane, weird dream. You blink and rub your eyes, but no, he’s still there.

“What?” You ask, voice scratchy with sleep.

“We’re gonna do a cold plunge,” he says. “Wanna join?”

“I thought you were a bear, you know.” You say, and he grins impossibly wider.

He makes a low growling noise. Behind him, near the fire ring, you hear one of his friends laugh. He rolls his eyes and reaches his hand out, tapping on the door of the tent.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he says.

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit,” you say. “And I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call a cold plunge fun.”

Somehow, though, you find yourself following him, and his friends down to the river. You’re not surprised to find they haven’t talked Will into joining- he promises to have hot coffee waiting for all of you. You’re in a pair of spandex shorts and a baggy shirt- the same clothes you’d worn to sleep. Danny’s reassured you that none of them have real swimsuits either, and you figure you can let the clothes dry by the fire while you make breakfast when you get back. The morning is quiet as you all hike to the bank of the river, other than the sound of water getting louder and louder. There’s the bridge you crossed over on the way, and the little pool that Danny had said looked like the perfect spot to jump in.

“You know, when you mentioned jumping in yesterday, I thought you were joking,” you tell him. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

“Health,” he deadpans.

You stare at him, wide eyed, waiting for him to expand on the statement. When he doesn’t, you roll your eyes and kick off your shoes anyways. He picks his way down the riverbank, peering over the edge into the pool of water. You follow along, wanting to get it over with.

He turns over his shoulder, grins at you, and then jumps in feet first.

He emerges from the crystal clear water with that same stupid smile on his lips. He wipes droplets of water from his face as he treads water, letting out a loud whoop. You want to scold him for scaring off any potential wildlife, but then he’s waving you in, calling your name. You sigh and brace yourself, consider chickening out for a moment, and then jump in after him.

The icy water shocks your senses so badly that you have to remind yourself to not breathe in underwater. It feels like needles all over your skin for a few moments, then uncomfortable numbness. When you emerge above the surface, you do so with a sharp scream, and to the sound of Danny’s laughter. You shake your head wildly and try to brush the cold water off your face with shaking hands. Then you swim for the bank.

“Gotta stay in,” Danny calls out, and you turn to look at him. “No health benefits if you just jump right back out. Give it a few seconds.”

You glare at him, teeth already chattering. “I think you’re full of shit.”

Even if he is, you stay in the water. You find a spot where your feet can at least touch the bottom. The rest of his friends jump in, too, splashing each other and Danny. You laugh as you watch them, watch the pure joy of a bunch of men turning back into children again. Finally, Danny swims for the bank and reaches for your hand to help pull you out. Your whole body shakes and shivers, and there are no towels to dry off with, because this wasn’t in the plans. There are wool blankets, however, and Danny picks one up and holds it out wide. In a moment of weakness and extreme cold, you let him wrap you up in it. There’s water glistening on his skin- you try not to stare. Nobody’s around to see other than his friends, anyways.

The whole group trudges back up to the campsite, where Will has a fire roaring and water for coffee heating up. You duck into your tent to change into dry clothes, and you take everything other than your underwear back out with you to dry. You’re not ready for the guys to see that this early in the morning.

You sit down on one of the logs, bundled up in a hoodie and sweatpants. Your wet hair drops cold water onto the back of your neck, and you shiver. The guys are still in their tent, and you can hear them chattering with each other. Will is eyeing you warily.

“I really didn’t think they’d talk you into it,” he says, quietly.

You shrug and muffle a yawn into your elbow. “He’s persuasive.”

Will quirks a brow. “Yeah?”

You close your eyes and drag a hand down your face. “Not like that.”

He hums. “The dude obviously has a crush on you.”

You pull your knee up to your chest. “I know. We talked about it. I told him… you know. It’s against the company policy-“

“You do remember how I met my wife, right?” He asks, quietly.

You keep your eyes closed, mostly because you don’t want to see the look on his face. “Yeah. Shut up.”

“Just saying,” he says, softly.

Before you can respond, there’s a commotion from the tent. You open your eyes to Danny stumbling his way towards the two of you, now dressed in a fuzzy sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. He saunters over to you and stops short, warming his hands on the fire.

“Well? Feeling the health effects?” He asks.

“I feel like a drowned rat,” you state, glaring up at him.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Will chimes in. You elbow him harshly.

“Mm, no, cuter than a drowned rat. Maybe a drowned koala. A drowned puppy?” Danny suggests, then frowns. “Alright, never mind, that felt morbid.”

The three of you laugh. One by one, his friends make appearances. Will hands out coffee and asks about the river, and you smile at the retelling of events. Eventually, you pack up all the gear- with help from everyone, a happy change from most groups, and head down the trail once again.

You know Danny will forget about you after he leaves, but you wonder if you’ll ever be able to lead another camping trip to this spot without thinking of him.

…..

Danny sticks to his word- he doesn’t make a move again. He does continue to spend time with you. You’re not exactly complaining, but it doesn’t make your decision any easier. He finds you on the back porch the next morning after the camping trip and resumes your morning coffee tradition. You put the book down fully this time- slip the bookmark into your page and close the cover. Your time may be limited with him, but you’re going to soak up every second.

You’re trying desperately not to get attached. It’s not working. He’s telling you a story about Australia, about his ranch there, about the dirt bikes and his parents and everything in between. And you sit there and regret ever telling him he couldn’t kiss you.

You know it was the right choice. Know it’ll only cause you heartbreak. But he’s so attractive, and sweet, and he loves his mother- his mum, even the way he says it is cute. You want to tell him you changed your mind. You sip your coffee instead.

You’ll be able to survive the rest of the week. Danny and his friends leave on Saturday. It’s Thursday now. That’s only a few more interactions, if you’re lucky. Only a couple more back porch morning coffee meetings, a few more drinks at the bar. You’ll survive, he’ll leave, and you’ll both move on. He probably already has.

Then you’re in the break room and you hear someone mention the Friday bonfire and Danny’s name in the same sentence, and your heart drops.

You and your coworkers have bonfires down by the employee housing every Friday. People who are working join after their shifts, and you all rotate the early Saturdays to make sure everyone can have a good time at least once a month. It’s your way to unwind. It’s supposed to be employees only, and sometimes a couple people’s friends. The only guests who’ve ever attended a bonfire since you started working at the lodge were a girl named Britt and her friends, and now Britt is married to your coworker Will.

“So Danny actually said they’d be at the bonfire?” Will asks, and you turn to stare at them.

Maybe he’s not talking about your Danny. You shake your head, knowing that calling him yours, even in your head, is stupid.

“Danny?” You ask. “Like- Danny?”

Will nods.

“What happened to no guests at bonfires?” You ask, turning towards the coffee maker to start another pot.

Tony, one of the kitchen staff, laughs. “Yeah, sure, but it’s a bit different when it’s Danny Ric, isn’t it?”

You shake your head in confusion and turn back to your two coworkers. “Have you even met him, Tony? Why are you out here calling him nicknames?”

Tony blinks widely at you. “That’s what everyone calls him.”

“Everyone.”

Tony nods and shovels a forkful of pasta into his mouth. You grimace. Will watches the two of you, an amused smile on his face. Someone calls Tony’s name, and he goes racing towards the kitchen, leaving his pasta abandoned on the table. You turn your stare to Will. Suddenly, you realize something.

“He’s like…” you sigh and sink down into a nearby chair. “He doesn’t just work for Red Bull, does he?”

Will laughs. “He told you he was in Scotty James’ wedding and you really thought he was just some company exec?”

“Will, I barely know who Scotty is!” You snap. “You should’ve told me.”

Will shrugs and pats your shoulder when he walks past you. “It was more fun this way. Besides, if he didn’t tell you, bet he didn’t want you to know.”

“What does he-“ you cut yourself off. “I mean, is he an athlete, then?”

Will is scraping food from his plate into the compost bin. “You ever heard of Formula One?”

You pick at your salad. “It’s like NASCAR, isn’t it?”

He makes a coughing noise. “Okay, maybe don’t start with that. I’ll give you a basic rundown.”

When you do see Danny the next morning, bright and early, you choose to start with, “good morning, Danny Ric,” instead.

He pauses halfway across the porch, hands at his sides. His skin is glistening with sweat. You’re wearing sunglasses- the perfect chance to let your eyes wander, just a little bit. He wipes at his brow and cocks his head.

“You don’t just work for Red Bull,” you say, and he chews on his lower lip. “I mean, understatement of the century.”

He laughs at that and takes a few steps towards you. “Yeah. Sorry.”

You shrug. “You could’ve told me, you know. I wouldn’t have treated you any differently.”

Instead of going for his normal spot in the chair next to yours, he stands in front of you. If he moved just an inch farther, his knee would touch yours. He sighs.

“I know. It wasn’t that. Honestly, I just figured you wouldn’t care,” he says with a shrug. “Like. You must get so many people here trying to convince you they’re not boring. It’s gotta get exhausting.”

You laugh at that. “Yeah, but your job is actually interesting,” you say. “You know, it does explain all the running. And all the adrenaline chasing.”

He finally sits down- you breath a sigh of relief. You weren’t really sure how he’d feel if you brought it up, but you hated the idea of knowing something about him without him knowing. You stick to your word- you don’t treat him differently. You pick your book back up and read for a bit until he gets fidgety, until he decides he wants to tell you another story. And then you listen with a smile, because it’s Danny. The joy is infectious.

…..

“You ever been to Yosemite?” He asks you later that afternoon.

You’re working the lunch shift at the bar. Danny had been wandering through the lobby, spotted you, and sat down for a drink. He’s having a mocktail, something you came up with just for him. You wonder how long it’ll be before one of his entourage comes looking for him. His phone has been buzzing repeatedly on the bar, and he’s been ignoring it.

You shake your head. “Not yet. It’s on my bucket list,” you say.

He nods. “That’s where we’re headed next. Spending a week there, and then it’s back to work.”

You blow out a long breath through pursed lips. “Your life is so difficult,” you say, teasingly.

He grins and shakes his head. “Wanna come with?”

You laugh as you scrub at a spot on the bar. You wait for him to echo the sound. He doesn’t. You look up at him, wide eyed. He should be laughing, he always laughs at his own jokes- it should be annoying, but it’s sort of endearing, the way he can’t finish a sentence sometimes, how he doesn’t make it to the punchline.

But he’s not laughing. “I’m being serious,” he says.

“Danny,” you say with a soft sigh. “We have a policy-“

“As friends,” he interrupts. “I promised I wouldn’t pressure you. That’s not what this is. You’re just… really cool, and we’ve got room in the car, and… I could really use your s’mores skills. Blake is shit at it.”

You cock your head at him. “I have to work. Not all of us get week long vacations in the middle of tourist season.”

He lets out a long sigh. “Right. Yeah.”

“Sorry,” you say, realizing you’re being a little harsh. “And thank you. The invite is really sweet. I just…”

I just can’t look at you without wanting to kiss you. The words are there, at the forefront of your mind and on the top of your tongue. It’s becoming a real problem, because he’s about to leave and you’re going to be stuck here, waiting and hoping he comes back. And he’s sitting here, asking you to go to a national park with him, and you want to say yes so badly because you think that maybe kissing him would be the best thing you’ve ever done. That maybe letting him in might be the right choice.

But he’s a guest, it’s against the rules, and he’s leaving. He sighs and nods, downs the last of his mocktail. He finally picks up his phone and raises his brows, then gives you a sheepish look.

“Gotta go,” he says, softly. “But I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

You nod. “See you tonight.”

…..

You take your time getting ready for the bonfire. It’s difficult- usually you wouldn’t think twice about what you’re going to wear, or what you look like. But Danny’s going to be there, and suddenly everything’s different. You have a thin line to walk- go all out, and your coworkers will notice and tease you. Don’t put in enough effort, and maybe Danny won’t even look your way tonight.

You eventually settle on a pair of jeans and a crew neck sweatshirt. The sun has just gone down, and there’s already a chill in the air. You make your way down to the bonfire area, following the well worn trail and the smell of smoke.

Danny’s already there, standing around near the firepit. His friends are all scattered with the rest of your coworkers, eating hot dogs that were cooked over the fire and chatting. Someone’s set up lawn games, far enough from the firepit to keep anyone from getting injured. You grab a drink from the cooler and make your way towards the group, trying not to stare at Danny.

He calls out your name, though, in front of everyone, which gives you a valid excuse to make your way towards him. You weave through throngs of people and end up right by his side. He’s been chatting with Will and Britt, which you think is probably a dangerous combination for your sake.

“Bout time you showed up,” Danny says brightly. “I’m in s’mores withdrawal, and once I’ve had one of yours, I can’t go back.”

You laugh and kick your toe at the ground. “I told you, I did absolutely nothing different.”

“Nah, he’s right,” Britt chimes in, and you throw a glare in her direction. “You’re a s’mores magician.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, and then you turn to Danny. “You get me the supplies and I’ll make you a s’more.”

He bounces away eagerly. Both Will and Britt are watching you with knowing looks. Feeling childish, you stick your tongue out at them. Will manages to look vaguely offended, while Britt just laughs.

Danny returns with a roasting stick and all the s’mores ingredients. You take them without complaint, watching his hands as he gets the crackers and chocolate set up. He follows you closer to the fire as you search for just the right spot.

“He kept burning his to a crisp on the camping trip,” you tell Britt, a teasing lilt to your voice. “That’s why I made him one. He was helpless.”

Britt laughs. Danny jabs at your side, and you let out a yelp. Your drink is hanging from your other hand, and you take a sip before you stick the marshmallows over the fire. Across the fire, Tony, the guy who called Danny Danny Ric, is watching you with wide eyes and whispering to one of your other coworkers. This is what you were worried about- get close to Danny, and people will start talking. But he’s leaving tomorrow, and you can’t bring yourself to care.

“See, it’s not about the flames,” you tell Danny, who leans closer to listen. You gesture with your beer. “It’s the coals. You find the right spot, and then you gotta have patience. It’s a slow process.”

He lets out a hiss. “M’not good at patience. Or slow.”

You roll your eyes and smirk. “I’m sure you’re very fast.”

He gasps in mock hurt and digs his fingers into your ribs again. You squeak and bat his hand away.

“You’re gonna ruin the marshmallows!” You warn as he reaches for you again.

He pulls his hand back and smiles innocently. You take a sip of your drink and stare up at him through your lashes, the same way he does to you when he’s sitting at the bar. You wonder if it has the same effect on him as it does on you. From the way he swallows, you think it might.

…..

You’ve only had a couple drinks, because as much as you’ve said you’re going to forget about him, you really do want to remember every last moment. It gets late far too quickly. The stars are out, and the moon too, casting everything in a silvery glow. The moonlight paints one side of Danny’s face- the fire, the other. Warm and cold at the same time.

More than half the people who started the night there have wandered back to their rooms and cabins. Danny’s friends all went to bed a while ago, gave him stern instructions to join them soon. They’re leaving early tomorrow, getting up with the sun and heading out. He needs sleep.

Instead, he’s sitting next to you on a log next to the fire. Your knees are touching, shoulders brushing with every movement. He’s nursing his second beer of the night. You stare at the rose tattoo on his hand and fight the urge to trace the inked lines.

He nudges your shoulder lightly. You stare up at him, face warm, not from the fire.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head?” He asks, voice low.

You shrug. You can’t tell him. I want to kiss you. I want to feel your hands on me. I want to read the tattoo on your chest, trace the lines of all of them. I want you. I changed my mind. Except, really, you’ve wanted this the whole time.

“Just tired,” you say instead, rubbing your thumb against the can in your hand. “I know it’s your last night here and all, but I might head to bed.”

It hits you like a sucker punch as you say it- if you go now, you’re saying goodbye. You could get up early and see him off, but you think that’d be a bit much. He seems to realize it too- his face drops.

“I’ll walk you back,” he offers.

“You don’t have to,” you answer.

You want him to. But you know what you’ll do if you make it to the door of your cabin and he’s standing next to you. You know the choice you’ll make. You’ll regret it in the morning when he’s gone and already forgetting about you, when you’re just the girl he hooked up with at the lodge on his vacation, when he goes back to his life of luxury and supermodels and-

“I want to,” he says, softly. “There’s bears here, you know.”

He growls lowly, right near your ear. You giggle to cover up the way it makes you feel like you’re on fire. When he stands and holds out his hand to help you up, you let him. He says goodbye to a couple people. You avoid Will and Britt’s gazes. Then the two of you set off down the path.

He keeps his distance. I’m not going to push you on this, because I don’t want to be a creep. But if you change your mind… You reach out, bump your hand against his. Knuckle to knuckle. He echoes the touch. Then you wiggle your fingers against his, desperately hoping he gets the message. When he tangles his fingers with yours, something slips into place.

There’s this energy thrumming in your body when you make it to the cabin area. You’re sure you’re shaking with it, even more sure that he’s noticed. You head for your cabin and squeeze his fingers. It’s dark here, nothing but the light of the moon to see by. You walk up to the door, his hand still in yours.

“D’you wanna come in for a drink?” You ask, trying desperately to sound nonchalant.

He squeezes your fingers. You turn over your shoulder and meet his eyes. They’re half lidded and dark. Like he knows where this is going.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” he says. “That’s not what this was about. I don’t-“

“I know,” you say with a nod. “I know.”

He nods, ducks his head. You push open the cabin door and step inside, hand still linked with his. He takes a deep breath.

“I won’t be offended if you don’t want to,” you say, softly. “You can change your mind, too.”

His eyes slip closed, and he shakes his head. Then he follows you in through the open door.

He’s the one to shut it. And then his hand slips from yours and falls to your hip, pulling you close. You wrap your arms around his neck. Your heart is racing in your chest. You wonder if his is too. You blink up at him, watching the way his jaw clenches.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks again, for the second time in a week.

“Please?” You ask, softly.

It’s like all his resolve disappears with that one single word. The night fades around you- it's just you and him. Nothing else matters.

His lips are hot and insistent against yours. When his hands fall to your hips, they’re even hotter and more insistent. He walks you back towards the bed, shoving at your sweatshirt and the t-shirt underneath it. You do the same with his hoodie, hands scrambling underneath, searching for skin. The skin you’ve been looking at all week, wishing you could touch- you can, now.

He’s in your room, in your space, and he backs you up to the bed. Your knees hit the mattress, and you fall back, away from his kissing, with a soft laugh. You stare up at him through your lashes, your whole body on fire. His hand falls to your knee and draws a slow line up your thigh. You reach up and tug on the hem of his sweatshirt, chest already rising and falling rapidly.

He leans over you, and you know your hand in the neck of the fabric, trying to pull him closer. He has himself propped up over you with one hand, eyes lit up like firelight, lips parted.

“Kiss me,” you whine, as his palm falls to your hip and squeezes. “Danny-“

His lips meet yours again, and it’s frantic after that. You shove his shirt over his head- yours follows it to the pile on the floor. He steps out of his jeans after you undo the button and the zipper, and then he’s tugging your pants down your legs, breath catching in his chest as he gazes down at you. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, biting down, and you trace fingers up the ridges of his abdomen. He traces a line from your navel up the center of your chest, presses his thumb to your lips, and you whine.

“Please, Danny,” you breathe.

His eyes slip shut. “M’trying to prove I can be slow and patient.”

You gasp as his hand cups your jaw. “Yeah- well- I can’t, so-“

He laughs lowly, and with his other hand, he hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties. “C’mon, little blackbird,” he says, and you writhe on the bed underneath him as he runs a thumb over your core, pressing into the wetness there. “Sure you can.”

When he sinks to his knees and buries his face between your legs, you thank the stars you didn’t let him leave without getting a taste of this, of him.

…..

After, the two of you lay spent in your bed. You’re tracing lines on his bare skin, both still naked. There are marks all over your bodies- hickies and fingerprints and bite marks. You’ll be feeling him inside of you for days, you’re sure. You run your finger under the words on his chest. Of Love And Life.

You know the song, so you start to whistle it. His laughter rumbles under your ear, deep in his chest, and then he starts to sing along with your whistling. It’s silly. If you told any of your friends about it, they’d cringe. But you feel the vibration of the words under his ribs and wish you could stay like this forever.

Eventually he stops singing, and you stop whistling. His hand sweeps up your bare back, fingers drawing shapes on your spine.

“Your cabin is cute,” he says.

You pick your head up and rest your chin on your hand that lays flat on his chest. “Thanks.”

He nods towards the poster on the wall. Yosemite is written in big letters, and you sigh.

“Offer’s still open,” he says, quietly. “No pressure. But.”

You let your eyes fall closed. “Danny.”

He cranes his neck up to press a kiss to your cheek. “I know. Sorry. I just don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

“We won’t say goodbye then. We’ll say see you later,” you suggest. It’s cheesy, but it feels right. “And you can stay the night, if you want.”

You expect him to say no. You’re sure his friends are going to panic when they realize he’s not in the room. But he just nods and pulls you close, and you rest your head on his chest again, and soon enough, you’re falling asleep, just like that.

You wake up the next morning before the sun is even up. The alarm on his phone is going off, and he’s doing a very bad job of muffling his swearing as scrambles out of bed to search for it. You tug the blankets over your head and groan until he shuts the noise off. You hear his footsteps, heading back to the bed. He tugs the blanket down so he can see your eyes and leans close.

“I gotta go, baby,” he says, quietly. It’s like it pains him.

“Yeah, I know,” you say, feeling like it pains you just as much.

He kisses your forehead and pulls the blanket down farther. He sits down on the edge of your bed and plants on hand right next to your head. You turn your face, press your lips to the inside of his wrist. Then you wrap your hand around his bicep and sigh.

“Thank you,” he says. “I had an amazing time this week. Wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

You laugh and squeeze his arm. “You just liked the s’mores.”

“No, I-“

“I know. Me too. Thank you,” you say.

He kisses your lips one more time. You press your hand to his cheek and try to burn this into your brain. Then he kisses your forehead again and stands up with a long stretch.

“See you later, mirlo,” he says, sounding more unsure than you’ve ever heard him.

“See you later,” you echo.

You watch him leave. Watch him walk to the door, watch the slope of his shoulders under his sweatshirt. Something awful twists in your chest.

“Hey, Danny, do me a favor?” You call out. He turns, brows raised.. “Try not to forget me, yeah?”

The corner of his lips tugs up into a half smile. “I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

You close your eyes so you don’t have to watch him leave. You hear the latch of the door and bury your face in your pillow, resisting the urge to scream. You’d have at least three of your coworkers at the door if you did. The last thing you need is to alert anyone of Danny’s presence in your cabin, though they probably already know. You don’t want to give them any sort of confirmation, though. You roll over in bed and open your eyes, and you’re met with bright blue fabric, folded neatly on top of the other pillow. Danny’s t-shirt, left behind. Deliberately, it seems, from the way it’s folded. It’s some souvenir shirt from a ski chalet you’ve never heard of. He’d been wearing it the night before- you took it off of him. He left it on purpose for you to find. For you to have. In your moment of weakness, you grab it and press it to your nose and breathe in. That’s when you realize you’re absolutely never getting over him.

And then, you think. He left his shirt. He wanted you to have something to remember him by. In all of this, maybe you’re not the only one afraid of being forgotten. He’s larger than life, he’s a damn celebrity, but he’s leaving a little piece of him behind so you have a reminder. Like he knows you’ll put the shirt in your drawer and feel that feeling in your chest every time you reach for a different one. The bright blue is permanently burned into your brain.

Feeling especially self pitying, you reach for your phone, knowing that your camera roll from the past week is filled with pictures of him. May as well wallow in it, right?

…..

Danny throws the last bag into the trunk of the car and sighs. Blake slaps his shoulder, heavy handed, so hard it almost hurts. Maybe he needs that.

He’s been looking all over for you. He’d thought maybe you’d come to see them off, or that he’d at least see you once more before he left. But you’re not on the back porch reading, and you’re not in the restaurant, and you’re not in the employee break room, either. He thinks about going to your cabin and then realizes that would be crazy, and probably a little creepy. You’ve already said goodbye- or see you later, but still.

Someone starts the car. He drags a hand down his face. “I need coffee,” he says, and Blake nods.

Danny jerks his thumb towards the lodge and then walks in to grab a cup to go. He’s only delaying the inevitable, really. If you were going to show up to say goodbye, you’d already be there. He should just be happy with what he’s had. Happy that you let him in the way you did. He should’ve known it would only leave him wanting more, but it’s a bit late for that now.

He walks back outside, cup of coffee in hand, a frown on his face. His friends are packing the last bags and climbing into the car, and Blake is-

He nearly trips over his own feet, nearly spills his coffee down his chest. Because Blake is talking to you. You’re standing there, a book in one hand, his blue t-shirt in the other. His gut twists. Blake sees Danny and backs away to give the two of you space. Danny’s heart is racing as he walks up to you.

You hold the shirt out to him. “You left this.”

He left it on purpose, and he thought that was pretty obvious. Maybe that was unfair. Maybe it was selfish of his to want to leave a reminder of himself for you. He frowns and reaches for the shirt, tries to take it from your hand. You don’t let go when he pulls on it, and he looks at you in confusion.

“You left it on purpose,” you say, quietly.

He nods and swallows. “I didn’t want you to forget me, either.”

You nod back. You’re staring up at him, this knowing look in your eyes that has him frozen right in place. His heart skips a beat in his chest. You tilt your head towards the trunk of the car- there’s another bag sitting there, on top of all the rest of them.

“Blake says that seat’s still open,” you say, and he holds his breath. “And Will texted me this morning and said they’ve covered all my shifts for the week, for some reason.” He shrinks under your gaze, knowing that’s probably because he mentioned the Yosemite trip, and his inviting you, to Will. “So.”

“So,” he echoes, a little bit scared to believe that what he thinks is happening actually is.

You shrug and shoot him a bright, sunny smile. “I’ve always wanted to see Yosemite. And you need a s’mores girl. Still want me to come along?”

When he sweeps you into a big, dramatic kiss, right there on the front lawn of the lodge, you don’t complain. You just wrap your arms around him and kiss him back. In the trees above your heads, a blackbird sings.

for posterity’s sake please let it be known that i mostly finished this on January 31st, 2024, and then woke up to the news that Lewis Hamilton is going to ferrari in 2025. I feel like that is an important detail to be known. I decided to post it anyways. Thanks for reading the longest fic i have ever written i hope you enjoyed 💛

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #Daniel Ricciardo fic #Daniel Ricciardo oneshot #Daniel Ricciardo #danny ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo fluff #Daniel Ricciardo fanfic #Daniel Ricciardo imagine #danny ricciardo #Danny Ricciardo fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fluff

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lasirenatarot · 5 months

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“ LOOKS-MAXXING ” pick-a-card reading.💝

Your next glow up.

What can you do in order to have a big glow up?

Pick a pink 90s magazine cover:

—>Pile 1

Your next glow up will most likely be related to getting « in peace » with your s€xuality prior to glowing up both physically and mentally. What I mean by this is you will probably need to get rid of any self doubts about your looks, any shame around your $£xual side due to past traumas or for some the way you were raised, some may have been raised in a controlling or conservative family.

One of the ways you can make this glow up happen is if you really enjoy your life and what you do. Try to practice your hobbies more and work on bettering your natural talents, by doing that you may find your purpose in this world and this will lead to the biggest glow up ever.. for some it may lead them to their dream career.

Something which appears in the cards is that you may need to forgive your parents or parental figures for the way they treated you in order to reach peace within yourself and your physical body. Forgive yourself as well for not acting in the « right way » or not looking a certain way, this is the best you could do at that point of your life . It is all in the past.

As for a physical glow up: judging by the pictures shown on the cards that fell, maybe start focusing on a regular work out routine, focusing on legs, butt or whatever you feel like you need to improve. Updating your clothing style may benefit you a lot. Stop caring about what others would say and pick clothes which give you freedom of expression, be yourself shamelessly. Some of you who chose this pile may have some creative vision which they may have been scared to express - do it. Meditation may help with your « glow up » in some form as well. Try bolder makeup looks and outfit choices.

Moodboard/Vibes for pile 1:

The vibes I get from this pile is totally Julia Fox as a persona,not only style wise. She’s unapologetically herself, maybe for some she’s a bit weird. But the main point is, despite people’s opinions and perceptions of her, she has always followed her own rules and expressed herself. Before she got famous she was a dominatrix, did a photobook, an art exhibition aand starred in a famous movie in which her character was inspired by her real life . All this happened because she was authentic,lived her life the way she wanted and followed her heart, exactly what u should do as well,pile 1.

Songs which remind me of this pile’s vibe:

—>Pile 2

Pile 2, you’re going through or will go through a huge transformation.. luck will definitely be on your side and you may find out answers for things which you’ve always wanted to know about. ( it can be pretty much about anything. If we are talkibg about a physical glow up exclusively, you may learn some very good beauty hacks soon. It can be about makeup, diet, exercise, skin care, personal development etc.. this is a general reading so I cannot be exact but whatever your case is it will lead to a HUGE glow up. Two of the cards are talking about some « secret knowledge » so whatever it is it will be significant for you.

This pile is very different from the first one as the glow up that appears here is not just about one or two things in your life or looks, it’s about everything. The things you can do in order to glow up faster, pile2, is maybe start watching makeup tutorials and pay attention to new techniques or products you haven’t heared before, ask people for where they shop they may tell you some secret thrift store with really cool clothes which can uplift your style.. anything which can help you get this « secret knowledge » which appeared in the cards. Another thing I can say for this pile is: focus on manifestation, envision the changes in your looks or life as a whole you would like to have and act accordingly in your 3D universe in order to get to where you want to be. Positive affirmations and subliminals (as in subliminals I mean not the crazy unrealistic ones, but those about self concept, confidence and beauty in general) may also be helpful in your case.

Moodboard/Vibes for pile 2:

The vibes I get here are Fran from “The Nanny” and Maddy from “Euphoria”. Fashionable, bold, colourful. Radiating confidence. Crystals, glitter, sparkle, feathers, bold and colourful makeup, everything of that sort. Do not dim your own light to make someone else feel better about themselves if they are insecure.

Songs which remind me of this pile’s vibe:

—>Pile 3

Pile 3: I think you would definitely be bettering your financial situation sooner than you may have even expected, this may help you get a glow up. You would be able to afford nicer things, skincare, clothes, procedures etc.. If you’re not already on a path to improve your finances, then you would definitely be motivated to start working on this problem soon and be very committed on your mission of « glowing up » in every way possible. Physically, mentally, spiritually even. You will be finding yourself after a long period of feeling lost and unlike your true self.

You would become much more intuitive, confident and cut throat even, you won’t let energy vampires use you as they may have done in the past and this would lead to a more beautiful and healthy version of you, because you would not have to deal with others’ negativity anymore. When it comes to relationships you would not be satisfied with with mediocrity, you will be finally standing your ground and being true to your standards and what you deserve. You will be getting your justice if you’ve been mistreated in the past.

This pile has huuuge « femme fatale » « dark feminine » vibe. This may be the energy you will be channeling after you have your glow up. Doing classic makeup like red lipstick+ black eyeliner, black smokey eyes and nude lips combo might help you channel this energy that i am seeing here better. Wearing colours like: red, black, gold and nude might help you elevate your look. Also wearing jewelry, lace and high heels. Don’t be scared to embrace your « dark side » which you may have ignored in the past in order to fit in with the crowd.

May sound trivial, but follow your intuition and do what makes you happy, it will make you glow in ways which you have not expected..

Moodboard/Vibes for pile 3:

The vibes I’m getting here are as I said in previous paragraphes: femme fatale, dark feminine energy,monica bellucci core type of look/aesthetics..

Songs which remind me of this pile’s vibe:

That was all from today’s PAC. It was a bit different from previous ones and I myself did not expect it to turn out the way it did, but sometimes completely different information pops up in readings because someone needs to hear a certain thing.. Hope you enjoyed it!!

Leave a comment/feedback if it resonated, share and follow for more.

Thank you for reading!

- La Sirena💋

Decks used: ‘$£xual magic’ oracle deck by Lo Scarabeo; ‘Manara’ €rotic tarot deck by Milo Manara/ Lo Scarabeo;

Photos are from pinterest; all credits to their respective owners.

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taegularities · 1 year

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candles & flames | jjk (m) | masterlist

He wasn’t supposed to be yours. His foolery wasn’t supposed to target you. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader

➳ genre: enemies to lovers, royal!au; angst, fluff, smut

➳ contents & warnings: fuckboy!JK, royal!jk, lies, miscommunication, hints of fake dating but not really, past side character death mentioned, banter, crying, guilt, jealousy, explicit sexual content (such as oral, fingering, making out, (unprotected) sex, cum eating, etc.); and more chapter specific warnings! | 18+

➳ current word count: 100.8k

➳ status: completed

➳ collaborative playlist 🎶

⁂ CHAPTERS

⤞ c&f: water (24.6k)

“To you, you’re water, and he’s fire — but perhaps there’s a grey area where you meet. Where you collide and become steam, evaporating, hot yet calm.”

⤞ c&f: fire (22.8k)

“The flicker’s colours are soothing. This fire is harmless, warm and tender; there are so much worse flames in your very own world.”

⤞ c&f: steam (34.3k)

“You thought you were water, cool as ice; and that he was fire, hot-headed and irresistible. You wanted to evaporate with him, but right now, you’re both burning.“

⤞ c&f: epilogue (19.1k)

“Neither the glowing star above nor the flickering flames will ever burn as bright as you.”

⁂ TINY BONUS

⤞ c&f asks 💌 ⤞ c&f moodboard, made by ivi 🤍

⤞ FAQ (or questions I found fun lol):

When do you always update? Whenever a part is done. I will try to finish C&F, including the epilogue, by the beginning of May ‘23!

How many chapters will C&F have? Three + the epilogue! For now, that’s all I’ve planned.

What inspired you to write C&F? The urge to write a royal JK, Bridgerton and you guys. <3

Were there condoms in the 1800s? Actually, there were!

✒︎ join the taglist! ♡

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g3l3mb · 1 year

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how to generate creative ideas:

(i need to get this out of my brain)

Make moodboards, playlists, keep a list of people who inspire you. Before starting a project think about the general vibe you want it to embody. Ask questions like “What would this concept sound like if it was a song?” ,“What would this concept be like if it was a person?”. Create a shirt that looks like a building you like, literally anything can be combined.

Take unrelated things or concepts and mix them together. Let’s take Addams Family as an example. “What if it was a story about a typical suburban family…but GOTH!”. It basically flips everything upside down. Or “What outfit would someone wear, who’s personality is the mix of the vibes of these two songs?” Random word generators are amazing for this if you don’t know where to start from.

Try making something truly BAD and then add a twist to it. It’s a great way for your brain to let go of expectations and then think outside of the box. But you can also use this to find out what you do not wanna do under any circumstances.

Think without worrying about the limits of what you can do and when it’s time for excecution, find a way around what’s impossible. It births more creativity and adds uniqueness.

Consider what your idea is NOT before considering what it is. Limits are the best way to avoid getting overwhelmed and giving up. Don’t ALWAYS do this though (unless you wanna…), it’s just something to try out when you feel like you’re seeing too many possibilities to the point that they’re contradicting each other. Unless your goal is to make something full of contradictions, you’re a Free Man, do whatever you want.

Keep a list of random ideas you have throughout the day in your notes app or something and then at some point actually review them. Keep what you think is worth exploring and then act on it.

Find out how something works very throughoutly so you know which aspect can be changed to create something new.

Take a concept and break it down into smaller concepts, ideas, questions, key elements and then also break those ideas down etc. This will naturally lead to associations, unique ideas you wouldn’t think of without doing this. I found that this is a great way of coming up with metaphors.

This one is similar to the last two: take a piece of art you really love and try to find out the thought process behind. What’s the story, where did the artist get inspiration from, how did they incorporate those ideas in their work. How did an artist combine their personal interests and knowledge into one big thing. For example: Tolkien was an erudite linguist, so much so that he created entire functional languages in his work, such as Elvish in Lord of the Rings. Hirohiko Araki loves 80’s music so much he named characters in Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure after music references. This is why no knowledge is useless knowledge.

Think about the times you’ve been the most creative before. What were the specific circumstances? For me my best ideas always come when I have a strict deadline for something unrelated, like school (which I’m way too willing to sacrifice), or when I’m doing something mindless like walking and listening to music, or playing a game that requires no thinking. Most of the time after 10p.m. This doesn’t mean I can’t “force” myself to be creative (tips above), it just means these are the times ideas come most naturally. For some people this might be being out in nature or experiencing high emotions, maybe having their life on the line idk, to each their own.

You can’t just create. You also need to consume. The more information you absorb, the more possibilities you have with your ideas. So if you’re not feeling that creative, that’s fine, it’s the perfect opportunity to learn something new.

If you don’t already do these things and you’re looking to get more creative my advice is to ACTUALLY TRY THESE OUT. You’ll best understand them in action.

#creative #writing #creative writing #art #artist #creativity #entp #enfp #infp #intp #art tips #writing tips #writing advice #art block #writers block #creative ideas

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wintrwinchestr · 6 months

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lather (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

moodboard by @iamasaddie

summary: you decide to try shaving your pussy for the first time on your first night settling into jackson with joel. he accidentally nicks you while helping you shave, but he makes sure to kiss it all better <3

warnings: 18+, smut, early jackson joel, established d/s relationship, porn with some plot (probably too much), oral (f receiving), innocence kink/roleplay, daddy kink (bordering on ddlg), shaving, a bit of insecure reader, blood (tried to keep it short & not very graphic), sprinkle of humiliation, pet names (darlin’, baby, babygirl, lil’ girl, honey, sweet girl, etc), joel refers to reader’s pussy as she/her, spitting, reader can be lifted by joel and has hair that can be tucked behind her ear, implied *legal* age gap (reader went to school in the qz)

word count: 2.9k

a/n: this fic is based on an nsfw audio by u/organ_donor86 on reddit!! i went to reddit and found it again so i could properly credit them for the inspiration, but i haven’t heard the full audio in probably 2 years so this fic is only based on what i could remember of the premise <3 this is my first time writing smut, nice comments and reblogs are appreciated if you enjoyed!!

You were sat on the end of the first clean, comfortable bed you had encountered in twenty years, taking in the surroundings of the charming bedroom you now found yourself in: The deer antler lamp emanating a warm glow from the bedside table, the framed paintings of various Wyoming-native wildlife hung up on the walls, the earth-toned woven rug beneath your bare feet. You took a deep breath, savoring the smell of a house that had never known decay. For the first time since outbreak day, you felt safe. Truly safe. Of course, Joel did his best to protect you as you traveled together over the last year or so since you met him, but you were never really without a looming threat of danger nearby.

His familiar, comforting voice startled you out of your daze.

“Y’ alright, babygirl? Settlin’ in okay?”

You looked over to where Joel was standing in the doorway, freshly showered and changed into a clean flannel and jeans.

You smiled with a relaxed sigh, flitting your eyes around the room again. “Yeah, I like it here, it’s cozy… Can’t wait to finally get a good night’s sleep in this bed tonight.”

“I’m with ya, baby, Maria ‘n Tommy gave us a real nice place, huh? Speakin’ of which, it’s about dinnertime, I think they just started servin’ it up down at the dinin’ hall. Why don’t we all go get somethin’ to eat together, hm? I know you must be hungry, sweet girl.”

Your eyes widened and your smile dropped a bit at the prospect of socializing with strangers, especially after the exhausting day you’d had getting to Jackson. Joel clocked your expression immediately, approaching where you were sat on the bed with slow strides. He gently pinched your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

“I know, my babygirl’s a shy one, huh? There’ll be a lotta people down there, I know…” He stroked a lock of hair behind your ear with his other hand. “Why don’t I go down there myself and see about bringin’ back some plates for us to eat together, just you and me? We’ll save the introductions for tomorrow, alright, darlin’?”

You nodded, your shoulders relaxing as your anxiety was soothed by his reassurances. He smiled down at you and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, sit tight, honey, Daddy’ll be right back… We’ll have a nice lil’ night together.” Another soft kiss, to your lips this time, and he was gone from the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You got up from the bed and padded over to the window. Peering out to the main road, you could see a crowd of people lined up outside the dining hall to get their evening meal. You figured you had at least fifteen minutes or so until Joel returned, deciding to take the opportunity to explore more of the house while you waited.

You wandered out of the bedroom and down the hallway, peeking your head around the doorframe of the first room you came upon. You reached out your arm and blindly felt around for the lightswitch, flicking it on once you found it. You were still standing in the doorway, knowing by now to wait a beat for the roaches to scatter before stepping fully inside. But to your surprise, there were none. The fluorescent ceiling light revealed the room to be a bathroom, a clean one at that.

You stepped over the threshold, immediately taking notice of the charming basket of homemade-looking toiletries perched on the sink’s granite countertop. It might as well have been Christmas morning, the overwhelming joy you felt at the idea of getting to take a bath in a clean tub with soap after all these years.

You picked up a white bar of soap from the basket and brought it to your nose, your eyelids fluttering closed as you inhaled its sweet vanilla scent. When you opened your eyes again, you noticed something even more enticing in the basket: a razor. The QZ school you attended had allowed the boys to have them in order to keep their facial hair under control, but deemed them a non-essential for the girls. Which, you supposed, was true, but you had still always fantasized about having a smooth, hairless body like the girls you had seen in wrinkled magazines and faded movie posters.

Your newly acquired shaving supplies planted an idea in your head: you were going to surprise Joel by shaving your pubic area for the first time. You imagined what it would be like to make a move on him after dinner, getting him hot and bothered, letting him carry you back up to the bedroom to have his way with you, and the wanton look on his face when he pulled down your cotton panties to find your pussy glistening and bare for him for the first time.

You practically tripped over your own feet in your rush to close the bathroom door. You quickly stripped off your worn jeans and underwear, tossing them into the corner of the bathroom to be dealt with later. You plugged up the sink and began to fill it with warm water, hoisting yourself up onto the countertop.

You swished the bar of soap around in the water, then rubbed it on a small patch of hair to create some suds. You placed the razor onto your soapy mound, then dragged it upward along your skin toward your belly button. Removing the hair proved to be more difficult than expected, and you were surprised to find that it hurt. It felt like you had just ripped out the hair instead of shaving it clean off. Just as you had touched the razor to the same thatch of hair to try again, you heard Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching, returning with your dinner much sooner than you had expected.

He was slowly turning the knob before you had a chance to get up and lock the door. “You in here, darlin? I was callin’ your name but you weren’t respondin’, and you weren't in the bedroom…”

“Sorry, Daddy… I’m just, um… doing something…” you responded, not very convincing in your flustered state.

“Can I come in, baby?”

You hummed your permission and he pushed the door open. The concerned look on his face dissolved when he saw you, worried at first that you might have been crying. His eyebrows raised and his lips parted in realization as he took in the sight of you before him.

“What’re you doin’ in here, darlin’, hm?”

“I… I wanted it to be a surprise. Wanted to shave it for you…” you admitted with a defeated pout.

“Oh babygirl… you know I’ve never cared about what you look like down there, don’t you?” You suddenly felt shy under his gaze, beginning to regret giving in to your girlish idea.

“I know, but… just wanted to look pretty for you, that’s all… like the girls in the magazines…”

“Oh, baby… you’re already the prettiest lil’ angel I ever laid eyes on… But if you really wanna shave her, Daddy’ll help you, sweet girl, don’t gotta keep struggling…”

He pulled up the worn little wooden stool from the corner of the bathroom and took a seat between your spread legs, gesturing for you to hand him the razor and bar of soap. You gave them up reluctantly, placing them delicately into his calloused hand. Your lips were still formed into a little pout, upset that your surprise had been ruined.

He dipped the vanilla-scented bar into the sink again, then rubbed it back and forth along the same vertical strip of skin above the hood of your clit that you had tried to start shaving first. He took note of the shoddily clipped hairs and how the skin beneath them was already looking a bit irritated from your misguided attempt.

“Gotta shave in the direction of the hair first, honey… like this…” He swished the razor in the water, then demonstrated the technique. The fingers of his left hand were splayed out across your lower tummy, his thumb pointed down, tugging the skin up towards your belly button as he shaved downward with his right. “See, baby? Just like this…” He did a few passes over the area, rinsing the razor in between each one.

You were mesmerized by his movements, watching his expert fingers work to remove coarse hair, revealing velvet smooth skin underneath. His hands looked so strong and competent as they moved from one patch of hair to the next, his brows furrowed and his tongue peeking out from between his plush lips in concentration.

You felt your core becoming wet as he exposed more bare skin to the bathroom’s cool air, his warm breath ghosting over your clit with each careful stroke of the razor. As he pulled away to admire how his work was coming along, the focused tension between his eyebrows released, noticing your hole beginning to drip.

“Oh…” he breathed, gathering some of your wetness on his thumb and bringing it closer to his face, inspecting it. “What’s all this honey, hm? This just from Daddy helpin’ you shave your lil’ pussy?” He sucked his thumb into his mouth, his eyelids fluttering as he savored the flavor. “Taste so sweet, babygirl… always so fuckin’ sweet f’ me…”

You nodded and whimpered at his words, heat rising to your cheeks at his slight mocking tone. “Can’t help it, Daddy…” Your hips started twitching of their own volition, rocking upward toward where his lips were now curled into a faux-sympathetic pout. You knew this was part of a little game he liked to play with you, the one where he made you feel a little embarrassed for being so easily turned on by him.

“I know, honey, I know… Lil’ girl can’t ever help herself, always gets wet f’ me so easily, doesn’t she? But you gotta hold still f’ me, let Daddy finish helpin’ you shave, okay?”

You gave another quick little nod and a hum of agreement that came out sounding more like a pathetic whine, and tried your best to control the movements of your pelvis as he got back to work.

But his big, warm hand was spread out over the delicate skin of your tummy again, and his lips were so close to being right where you wanted them, and what little self control you had been able to muster was quickly beginning to slip away. You were nearly able to contain yourself for the rest of his shaving, but your eager hips betrayed you on what would have been the final pass of the razor, giving a swift little buck toward Joel’s face despite your best efforts to keep still.

He wasn’t prepared for your sudden movement, and the sharp blades nicked the skin of one of your outer lips. You let out a startled cry as a little crimson pearl began to bloom on your sensitive skin. Joel gasped and was quick to apologize, even though your injury was really due to your own desperation. “Oh, Christ… I’m sorry, babygirl, I’m so sorry… here, gimme a tissue, baby.”

With a shaky hand, you reached over to the box of tissues sitting on the back of the toilet, plucking one out to hand to him. He dropped the razor in favor of the tissue, balling it up and gently pressing it to the little cut. His free hand quickly came up to the side of your face, smoothing his thumb across your cheekbone. “You okay, babygirl? I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean t’ hurt ya… told ya to keep still for me, baby…”

He wiped away a tear that had slipped from your lashes as you sniffled. “I’m okay, Daddy, jus’ scared me… stings a lil’ bit…”

“Yeah, I’ll bet it does… my poor girl. Daddy shoulda been more careful, knew you wouldn’t be able to control yourself, needy lil’ thing… But you know what, babygirl? Daddy knows somethin’ that’ll help, that’ll make it stop hurtin’...”

“What is it?” you asked, soft voice still wavering slightly.

“Well, I read somewhere a long time ago… that spit can help a lot with lil’ cuts and things…”

You could tell this was part of one of the other little games you liked to play together. The one where you pretended to be innocent and inexperienced, when in reality, Joel had made sure you were anything but. But you liked this game, it put butterflies in your tummy and made your weeping hole quiver when you played the part for him.

“It… it can?” you wondered with a naive-sounding lilt.

“Oh yeah, babygirl, you never heard o’ that before? Spit can help a whole lot, ‘specially Daddy’s spit, can make it feel all better, darlin’...” The stained tissue now discarded, his thumbs gently stroked the slick pink skin of your outer lips as he spoke, careful to avoid your little injury. “And your lil’ baby pussy is a real uncomfortable place to have a cut like this, too… Don’t want my girl hurtin’...”

Your eyebrows were knit together with need as you released a pathetic whimper, your breath hitching and heat rising from your fluttering tummy all the way up to your cheeks. He barely concealed a smirk as he noticed the change in your demeanor, knowing how this particular game had always affected you.

“Whaddya say, sweet girl, hm? You wanna give it a try? You want Daddy to kiss it all better?”

You nodded frantically, your mouth slightly agape as you began to pant out of desperation.

He was quick to deliver a small swat to your inner thigh at your unspoken answer.

“Words, baby, you know better…”

“Y-yes, Daddy, please, want you to kiss it better, make it stop hurting…”

“There you go, good girl. Spread your legs a lil’ more for me, honey, let me see her…”

You wiggled your thighs further apart on top of the counter, giving him full access to your now soaking cunt.

“There she is, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, ain’t she? Needs her Daddy to make her feel all better…”

He placed a few wet kisses to the afflicted area before looking up at you with apologetic eyes. “How’s that feel, babygirl? She still hurtin’?”

You nodded your head with a pathetic little cry, mindlessly chasing after his mouth with your hips. “Still hurts, Daddy…” you vocalized your answer this time.

“Yeah? Poor lil’ pussy… She need some more lovin’ from her Daddy? More of his spit to help make her feel good again?”

Another frantic nod, another eager mewl. “M-more… please, Daddy…”

“Alright, babygirl, don’t you worry, Daddy’ll give her some more…”

He latched his lips onto your swollen clit, alternating between sucking it into his mouth and giving it soft kitten licks. His large hands were firmly planted on the inside of each of your thighs, keeping you spread wide as he devoured you. You were already so sensitive from his teasing, it wasn’t going to take much more to push you over the edge. You were practically riding his face, your hips canting feverishly into his mouth with each expert drag of his tongue across your folds.

When he started fucking his tongue into your bitty hole, swirling it around and then licking back up to your clit to circle it, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Please, Daddy, please… feels so good, ‘s too much, gonna cum, Daddy…”

“Yeah? I dunno, babygirl, I don’t think she’s healed all the way just yet… might still need some more takin’ care of,” he murmured into your pussy before pulling his head away to spit directly onto your cunt. The lewd action was enough to launch you into your orgasm right then, his head still between your legs, slurping up the divine combination of his saliva and your sweet juices. As you rode it out, his tongue maintained a gentle, steady strum on your clit, eliciting breathy whines of please and yes and Daddy…

When you finally came down from your high, your breath catching up to you and your hips stilling, your pussy twitched one last time at the sight of Joel’s wrecked face. He was smirking up at you, his face soaked with your slick, thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto your thighs.

“Well, I reckon it worked, whaddya think, darlin’? She feelin’ better now?”

“Much better… thank you Daddy…” you sighed, still catching your breath.

“You’re welcome, babygirl, such pretty manners… Now, why don’t we get ourselves cleaned up and have some dinner, hm? I even brought back a slice o’ huckleberry pie for ya if you eat all your vegetables like a good girl…”

You lit up immediately at the promise, prompting Joel to reach into the basket and pull out a soft, cream-colored washcloth. He dunked it in the water, squeezing out the excess, and carefully cleaned up your now freshly bare pussy. When he was done, you took the washcloth from him, rinsing it in the sink before repeating his cleansing process on his own face. He helped you up off the counter before leaving the bathroom, returning promptly with a fresh set of clothes for you to change into. He helped you into a clean pair of panties, which you noted felt nice against your naked skin, then into a warm sweatshirt and comfortable leggings.

He carried you into the kitchen and sat you down at the little table set for two. You ate your dinners together by soft candlelight, relishing the feeling of having a sturdy roof over your heads and warm food in your stomachs.

You supposed tonight, and this little house in Jackson, represented a new beginning in more ways than one.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @gracieispunk @iamasaddie @rebel-held

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

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ladamedusoif · 2 months

Text

able

(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: ~3.7k

A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.

This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story.

(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)

Please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.

Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me

You weren’t supposed to make it.

Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders.

You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.

You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being.

The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness.

Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.

“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”

Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.

All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.

“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”

The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now.

She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes.

It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.

You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did.

Jackson stands before you.

He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.

“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”

He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey.

For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can.

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”

“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”

Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.

“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”

You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”

He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”

“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”

You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.

You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes.

“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”

There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street.

Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.”

You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.

“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”

“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”

Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.

The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before.

You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.

“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”

“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”

“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”

“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”

“That ain’t the same and you know it.”

“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.

You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.

“Who’s there?”

You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.

The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.

On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation.

“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”

You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.

“So she was a creative kid?”

“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”

There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground.

“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”

You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.

“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”

He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”

“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him.

And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones.

Raiders.

The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name.

Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.

“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off.

Joel takes aim.

You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.

He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening.

Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?

Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not.

He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle.

Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground.

“You fucking cunt!”

Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick.

She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.

“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”

Thwack. The other leg.

Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”

Holy fuck. Who is she?

”C-c-c-cripple.”

”Excuse me?”

The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle.

The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”

Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being.

She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you.

He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.

A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol.

“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.

Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking.

“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”

You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe.

“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”

Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.

“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”

It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.

”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”

He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.

”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”

When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours.

“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.

”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”

You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance.

You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.

And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.

Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.

”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”

Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.

”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”

He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.

”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”

“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”

He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?”

“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”

You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.

He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood.

“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”

Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.

”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”

He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”

You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch.

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”

This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”

Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”

“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”

”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”

He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”

You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”

”You aren’t.”

”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”

He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…”

You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”

He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.

“You knew what you were doing, though.”

”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.

”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”

He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you.

Fuck it.

“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”

Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.

”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”

His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now.

You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x disabled f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #soft joel miller #disabled f!reader #disabled reader fic #hbo the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedrostories

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dearestgojo · 1 year

Text

Summer Days

Gojo x fem reader x Geto

A/n: This was originally supposed to come out during the summer for my summer Collab, but I lost inspiration until recently so here you go. Also this is heavily influenced and inspired by "Y Tu Mama Tambien" which is a movie i really enjoy.

Warnings: 18+. Some angst. Pwp. Three different smut scenes. Reader has long hair which is then cut short. Dubcon. Use of condoms. Oral m & f receiving. Cunnilingus. Fingering (there's vaginal and anal). Outdoor sex. Public Sex. Cowgirl. Riding. Throatfucking. Nipple Play. Deepthroating. Handjobs. Blowjobs. 69 position. Spit. Squirting. Overstimulation. Breeding Kink. Multiple Orgasms. Threesome. Cockslapping. Dumbification. Grinding. Pussy job. Rimming. Double Penetration (one-hole). Anal. Male x male stuff. Geto and Gojo kissing. Creampies. Multiple Orgasms. Piss kink. Golden Showers. Dracyphilia. Cum swallowing.

Wc: 19k | JJK Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Moodboard

Peering over the top of his sunglasses, Satoru raises a single finger and points in the general direction of the entrance to the venue, sifting his weight so that the front legs of his chair touch the ground. The movement and sound grab the attention of his best friend, who is leaning against his chair, his head resting on the back of it, legs raised off the ground and resting against the ledge of the balcony they were hanging out on. Suguru looks at Satoru, watching as he folds his arms over each other on the railing, chin resting on the back of his left hand, “What do you think she sees in him?” Satoru asks, “He’s way too old for her, so what exactly does she see in him? Do you think it’s the money? Or does she have daddy issues?”

Suguru swings his legs off the ledge, copying Satoru’s stance looking down at where you're standing, arm hooked into Satoru’s uncle's arm, smiling at the guest that walks up to the two of you. You're standing up straight, smiling gently as always. He shrugs and pulls a cigarette from his pocket, “Maybe she’s into older guys because she has daddy issues.”

They both stare down at you, watching as you weave between the crowd, your head turning to look around, searching for something. Satoru’s breath hitches when you find them perched on the balcony, your smile grows, and you lift a single hand to wave at them. You turn to his uncle, whispering in his ear before detaching yourself and making your way to the stairs that lead up to them.

"She's coming," Suguru points out, killing the cigarette on the rail. Satoru nods and makes his way in the direction you would be coming in through.

"Think we should invite her on our little summer trip?" He asks, running one hand through his hair.

Suguru shrugs, "Do what you want. You always do anyway."

A few minutes later you show up, smiling at them both as they wait for you at the top of the stairs, offering their arms to you. "Hello, boys," you greet, a smile spread on your face as you hook your arms through theirs and let them lead you to the resting area, "It's good seeing you."

Suguru pulls a chair out for you, leaning over your shoulder as you sit, "It's good seeing you too, y/n. Though seeing you wrapped around another man's arm was not exactly ideal."

"So I should be hanging on to your arm?" You ask, peering over your shoulder at him and batting your eyelashes.

Leaning closer to you, lips almost touching, Suguru beams, eyes twinkling as he teases back, "That doesn't sound too bad."

You grin up at him, shrugging your shoulder and turning back to look at Satoru, "What do you think 'Toru? In whose arms would I look better? Sugu's or your uncle's?"

Satoru leans, resting his elbows on his knees while smiling at you. He taps his lips with his pointer finger a few times like he is thinking about your question, "I think you'd look better wrapped in my arms."

You laugh waving both of them off in the end, "Oh you guys, you two really get off teasing me don't you?." You watch as Suguru moves to sit in the chair in front of you sitting next to Satoru, a glass coffee table separating you from them, watching the slit of the red midi dress you wear expose your thigh. "So what are you both doing for the summer?" you ask, leaning back on your hair to catch a glimpse of the party happening below.

Satoru shrugs, leaning to rest on his knees, "A beach trip, of course," he sucks in some air, emanating a low whistle from his lips, "All those girls in their two pieces suits, and their skin glowing with sweat. And then all the beach parties."

Suguru's lips curve as he watches you shake your head in disbelief. An idea forms in the front of his brain as he recalls a rumor he heard from his mother's maid. He grabs the glass of whiskey he had placed on the table earlier, raising it to his lips and speaking with the rim placed against his bottom lip. "You should join us. I hear Gojo's uncle is going to be busy all summer."

Your smile twitches and the brightness of your eyes dulls a little. Suguru can tell that you have already guessed what Satoru's uncle would be busy doing. Or rather who. The same person he spent time with when you were locked up in your room prepping for finals. But just as quickly as the brightness had dulled it returns. Your smile spread even wider as you attempt to cover your dissatisfaction with where your relationship with the older Gojo was going.

"I'll think about it," you respond, "We haven't hung out in a while, so I think it'd be nice."

"Good because we'd love to have you. Right, Satoru?" Suguru smiles at you finally taking a drink.

Satoru nods his head, his brain still trying to untangle the underlying meaning of his friend's words and the quick switches in the atmosphere, "Yeah, it'd be fun."

The three of you converse on the small balcony for a few more minutes, all avoiding the topic of your dating life, and sipping from the glass of wine Satoru had managed to sneak out of the kitchen. Towards the end of the night, you're seated between the two of them, your head resting on Satoru's shoulder as he mindlessly toys with your fingers. Your brain feels a little buzzed and you're hiccuping every so often, the sound causing a very wine-drunk Suguru to giggle every time.

The sound of soft melodic music carries from downstairs, lulling you to sleep between your two childhood friends. The softness of the circles Satoru draws on your hand doesn't help as your eyes start to droop with sleep.

You're already half asleep when you feel the hair sticking to your forehead get pushed back. Opening your eyes a little you find your boyfriend smiling at you, slightly tugging on your arm to pull you up. "You ready to go home?" he asks, cupping your face in his large hand as he sways you both. You nod your head, the back of your throat feeling too dry to respond verbally. "Good," he glances behind you, your movement had woken up the other two, "Thank you boys for entertaining my girl."

Satoru rubs his eyes, nodding and yawning, "No problem uncle. Spending time with y/n is always a pleasure."

Your boyfriend nods and secures his arm around your waist and starts pulling you towards the stairs, "Well, you two have a nice night, and don't get into too much trouble."

"No promises," Satoru drags, settling back on the couch to sleep.

Suguru stares at the two of you near the opening and watches as you smile fondly at the man next to you. He clears his throat and calls out, "Y/n! Remember you're free to join us on our trip if you want."

You look at him over your shoulder and smile before disappearing down the curved stairs.

They didn’t expect you to show up. They didn't even bother sending you a text the night before to remind you that you were still welcome. Both men were hopeful that by some miracle of the universe, you would show up at the last second and join them. No, they didn't expect you to come, however, the last thing they expected was for you to show up with tears in your eyes and your clothes soaking from the pour raining. But there, you are on the front steps of Suguru’s one-bedroom apartment, a duffel bag in your hand and eyes swollen two weeks after the party. You smile meekly at them, eyes squinting shut before you say anything, “Is it too late to ask if I can join you?”

Suguru mindlessly nods, eyes opened wide as he stares down at you, his eyes lingering on your chest before stepping aside and letting you in and out of the rain, helping you steady yourself as you take off your shoes. He clears his throat from behind you before speaking "I have a change of clothes if you want to change, and we can throw your clothes in the dryer."

You nod staring blankly at the bathroom door near the hall, Satoru comes in from it, pulling a shirt over his head and obscuring his view, "Hey, who's at the door?"

Leading you towards the restroom with a hand on the small of your back, Suguru answers, "It's y/n, she's coming with us."

Satoru's head pops out when the restroom door closes behind you, "Oh, really?" it comes in muffled through the door and you can hear them heading down the hall as their voices fade.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you feel your stomach start to twist at the sight of your soaked hair sticking to your forehead and shoulders. Mascara running down your cheeks from the tears and rain, eyes swollen and red. Your white dress is sticking to you, nipples hardened from the cold of the rain and of Suguru's home, allowing the color of them to be seen through the thin material. The back of your eyelids hurt every time you close your eyes.

You keep replaying the scene in your head. Keep hearing the sound of the door clicking shut behind you, and the sound of your boyfriend's name bouncing off the walls as you search his home for him. You keep hearing the sounds of muffled whimpers and the sound of groans traveling down the hall, which warped into themselves as you had slowly walked towards the bedroom. Your legs unsteady and sweat travels down your temples as you approach it. You can feel your heart speeding up as you open the door and find the man you had trusted with your heart, curved over the body of a blond, hands gripping whatever they could.

The sound of a knock on the bathroom door pulls you out of your daydream. Suguru's voice travels through the door, "Hey, you okay y/n?"

You nod your head and remember he can't see you. Clearing your throat you try to sound normal, even with the knot that's lodged in your throat, "Yeah. I'm okay."

There's a pause before he speaks to you again, "Okay, I have some clothes for you to change into, so if you want to open the door I can stick them through." Opening the door a few inches Suguru sticks in a stack of clothes, that you grab and set on the counter, "Um we'll probably leave in a few hours, so if you want to shower to warm up you have plenty of time. I don't think Satoru's even finished packing."

"Um...thanks. I'll be out in a bit." You close and lock the door, before turning back to see yourself in the mirror. Swallowing the lump in your throat you pull the straps of your dress down, letting it fall to the ground with a wet plop. You can still see the fading lovebites from the other night, your stomach churns as your eyes travel along the path they create to the bottom of your stomach. You have the urge to rip off your skin the longer you stare at yourself.

Tearing your eyes away from the mirror you turn the shower and run the hot water, peeling your underwear off and sorting through Suguru's hygiene products under the counter. For a man, you find a lot of feminine products, concluding he must keep them around for hook-ups who stay over.

Grabbing a new loofa and a travel-sized body wash you climb into the hot water, grimacing when the water touches your skin. The bathroom starts to steam up, the mirror and glass shower door fogging up. You scrub your skin hard until it stings and feels like the scalding water is scorching it. You scrub until you are sure that every part of skin he's touched burns and that his fingerprints can't be found on your body. You scrub until you are sure that it'll take your skin less than seven minutes to replace the skin that takes seven years to replace.

You somehow end up crying on the shower floor, a soft knock bringing you back to reality, where you realize the shower is now cold and that you're shaking beneath it. Shutting it off you reaching for one of Suguru's towels, the one you pick smelling heavily of his cologne, the scent that clings to the clothes you slip into after drying off. The white shirt he left you, falls below the curve of your ass, and the gray sweats slip off your hips even after pulling on the strings. Securing your hair in a towel you walk out the bathroom door into the open living space.

The dining area is directly in front of you, and the opening to the hallway is on your left, along with the living room. Large windows allow natural light to come in through the long white curtains that are usually closed but are now open due to the weather, letting you peer out into the inclement weather. Dark gray clouds floating across the sky, flashing every few minutes. You can hear the soft pitter-patter of the raindrops, the house quiet enough for you to even hear as the water pours down the gutter pipe, and the sound of the kitchen sink leaking.

You stand there for a few minutes, staring at the walls of Suguru's home. From where you stand, you take notice of the touches of feminity left across the spaces and how out of place they seem with each other. All are clearly either left behind or gifted. There are the unmatching throw pillows on the couch, one a bright red and the other a blue with a fringe, that clash against one another and the leather couch. There's a floral mug on the edge of the skin, bright colors of pink, purple, and blues sticking out against the white and stainless steel. There are a few plants scattered around the house, a few deaths, and others fighting to stay alive.

"You're out," you feel someone's warm breath on your ear, causing you to jump. You look behind you to find Satoru standing behind you, who chuckles a bit as he looks down at your startled face, "Sorry didn't mean to scare you, but you didn't hear me come in and it just seemed so easy." The corners of his lips drop and he leans down a bit, pushing a strand of hair back under your towel. "Suguru told me you'd be joining us," he says while swinging one arm over your shoulder, and walking you to the living room, "and I will say I'm a little surprised you ditched my uncle, but I'm ecstatic we get to have you to ourselves now."

You swallow down the knot lodged in the back of your throat, tongue heavy in your mouth, and force a smile, "I hope you don't get bored of me."

Satoru plops down on the couch, pulling you down with him into his side, nuzzling his hair on the top of your head while he wraps an arm around you. "Us? Get bored of a pretty thing like you? Never," he replies, breathing the scent of Suguru's shampoo while holding you close.

You sink into his warmth, letting it envelop you, his sincere words alleviating some of the heaviness in your chest. The lids of your eyes fall close, your body exhausted from the day's events, to the sound of his steady breathing and the sound of raindrops hitting the large living room window. You breathe in Satoru's sweet scent, muttering, "I'm going to hold you to that," before falling asleep in his arms.

The car feels cramped and stuffy, even with the windows rolled down, your skin feeling itchy even through the layers of clothes you wear. Two hours into the drive and you want to strip naked in the backseat.

“Can either of you tell me why we don’t have the AC on?” You grumble, tugging on the collar of the shirt Suguru had given you hours ago,

Suguru looks back at you through the rearview mirror, his left arm extended while holding on to the steering wheel, drawing your eye to the dark ink scales that wrap around his arm, the head resting on the center of the back of his hand while the tail curls around the top, muscles flexing as he holds on to it. His long dark hair is tied into a loose bun, strands of hair falling out, "The weather is nice enough to have the windows down,"

"It's fucking hot and humid," you bark, Gojo laughing in the passenger seat.

Suguru continues, ignoring your comment, "And the AC isn't working."

"Let me get this straight," you start from the back seat, "You decide to take a road trip during the summer, when it gets very hot, with a broken AC? Not only that, but I'm like ninety-nine percent sure you make enough money to have gotten it fixed before going on this trip."

Suguru's eyes flicker to you in the back seat, "Look I didn't have time to go the shop before."

You turn to look at Satoru, who's covering his laughs behind the palm of his hand, "Okay, then why aren't we taking one of your cars?"

His laughing stops, and he turns to look at you with a dead stare, "That's a touchy subject right now."

"His dad told him he had to learn to fend for himself in the real world after finding out he spent over four thousand dollars in one week," Suguru answers for him, covering his mouth with the back of his hand to hide his grin, "said he can get all his belongings back when he learns to be responsible."

You burst into laughter, "Oh no, did anyone tell him that that might be impossible?"

"Will the two of you shut up?" Satoru pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

Giggling still, you undo your belt buckle and pat his shoulder, "It's okay Satoru. In the meantime if you need to borrow money, just let me know," you tease. Satoru shrugs your hand off, and turns back to look out the window, dark circled sunglasses protecting his blue eyes from the sun, while you lean back onto the seat, "Okay, so what am I supposed to do? I'm burning up back here."

"You can probably cool down if you take off those sweats," Satoru says nonchalantly while staring out the window, Suguru's dark eyes flickering to you once more, "No one would know anyways, it looks like a dress on you."

"I can't do that with the two of you in here."

"Then die of heatstroke, I guess."

Suguru watches the sweat drip from your temple down to your jaw, your lips starting to dry. He feels a little guilty for giving you the sweats and not a pair of his shorts, but nothing can be done about that now. Clearing his throat, he turns back to look at the road and says, "Look you can change back there if you want, we won't look. Promise." He nudges Satoru's side.

Satoru looks away from the window, muttering in agreement, "Yeah, promise, I won't look."

You sit frozen in the back seat, waiting to see if they keep their word, challenging them to look. When neither moves their head from the direction they're each looking in, you move to the edge of the seat behind Satoru's seat. You set both feet on the car floor, kicking your sandals off, and raise your hips to pull the sweats down to your mid-thigh before sitting back down on the seat completely. Pulling them the rest of the way off, you feel much cooler already, the humid summer air still warm on your exposed skin, but the hot air blowing through the car windows doesn't feel as suffocating anymore.

"Okay, I'm done," you announce, fixing the hem of the shirt, before looking up, startling a little.

Suguru is looking at you through the mirror again, and you feel something caught in the back of your throat while your stomach flips. He breaks eye contact first to look back onto the road, "Feel better?"

Swallowing the spit in your mouth you nod your head, "Yeah much better."

The rest of the car drive is pretty quiet, save for the radio playing a mixture of all of your music, and Satoru pointing out things along the way. Like a cloud that looks like a dog drinking tea, landmarks, or a beautiful view you happen to drive past. You continue to drive until the car needs gas.

Suguru pulls into a small gas station just outside of a small unknown town, with only two cars parked in front. "Okay, I need to fill up, and stretch so we'll stop here for a few minutes," he turns to hand you a wad of cash, "We also need some snacks and lunch, so if you want to go get us some sandwiches and chips, that would be great."

"Oh, okay," you respond, taking the money from his hand, "Anything specific you want?"

Suguru shakes his head, getting out of the car, while Satoru answers, "Could you get me some cookies, and if they have any of those little parfaits like cups? Also if they have any fruit cups get me one, and maybe some of those Starbucks coffees that are in the glass bottles, get at least one of each flavor they have."

"Yes, your majesty," you mock, getting out of the car and slamming the door shut before bowing, "your wish is my command." You skitter away when he fake throws something at you, laughing over your shoulder as you make your way into the gas station.

The belly at the door dings when you open the door, an employee behind the counter grumbling a greeting. The gas station has an ac running which helps cool you off the hot summer sun, the sweat on your body helping you cool down, as you walk around looking for what you need. You easily find the sandwiches Suguru asked for, a cup of fruit, and Satoru's drinks, the only thing you don't find are the parfait cups he asked for. Looking out one of the large windows you see Suguru leaning against the side of his car, still filling up on gas. You decide to keep looking around for a few more moments.

Going down each aisle, you find little souvenirs and unknown snacks, along with car gear, such as bulbs for headlights, wires, and jumper cables. It's in there that you find a pair of scissors.

They lay on top of any empty shelf, unpackaged, probably belonging to one of the employees, calling out your name. You hesitate on picking them up, fingers hovering over the rub handle. They feel heavy in your hand when you lift them, the sound of the two blades loud in your ears. Looking over the shelf, you make sure the employee isn't paying attention before setting all the things you had gathered onto the empty shelf, and that Suguru is still getting gas, before making your way to the restrooms in the back of the building.

The restroom smells heavily of bleach and cheap lavender air fresher, and the mirror has water stains on it. There are a few paper towels scattered around on the floor, but it is otherwise cleaned, which you didn't expect given that the gas station seems to not be frequented often. Looking down the hall one last time, you close the door and lock it. Your forehead rests on the cool surface of the white door, your heart racing, and the hand that's holding the scissors sweating.

You know you aren't thinking clearly. That all the decisions you make right now are byproducts of the heartache you're suffering from. Yet you find yourself making your way to the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror while twirling the ends of your hair.

After several moments, which feel like a lifetime, you grab a section of your hair and begin to cut. The sound of the blades clipping through rings loudly in your ears, but you don't stop, separating section after section of hair. Hair that the man you once loved and now loathed had caressed.

The bunches of hair fall into the sink, and a few loose strands fall onto the floor, slowly piling on one another. You don't cry or get angry, you simply cut until your hair rests just above your shoulders. A cute little bob that frames your face.

With the last snip, you let the hair fall and run the tips of your fingers along the ends. The cuts are a bit jagged and uneven, but not noticeable unless you really looked. The hand that holds the scissors is trembling as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

It clicks then, the reality of what you've done. You drop the scissors onto the floor, scrambling to pick up the hair that decorates the floor, shoving it into the trashcan.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you utter frantically, chest constricting.

There is a knock on the door as you shove the last bit in, the inside of your mouth feeling dry. Wild eyes find yours in the mirror as Suguru's voice travels through the closed door.

"Y/n, you in there? We're done getting gas, and Satoru's paying for the stuff you left out here, at least we're assuming you left out here," he sounds concerned, " You were taking a while to come out, so we came to look for you."

The palms of your hands are sweating, and you rub them on the shirt, trying to sound normal when you respond, "Yeah, I'm fine," swallow looking at the doorknob and opening it, "I'm coming out."

Suguru stares at you for several seconds, at a loss for words. Blinking, he gestures to your hair, stuttering over his words, "Y-your hair."

You smack your lips, pushing past him and heading out to the front of the store, "Yeah...so let's get going."

He chases after you, calling out, "Are we not going to talk about this?"

"No. It's my hair."

"Okay, but you could have waited to do it professionally."

"I could've, but I wanted it done now." You near the car, and Satoru looks up from his phone, wearing the same look Suguru wore when he first saw you on his face, the same words stumbling out of his mouth, "You're hair? What happened?"

"I cut it."

"Why?"

"Cause I felt like it," you bark, swinging into the backseat, "Can we go now."

"Are we not going to talk about this?" Satoru asks exasperated.

Suguru get's in and answers with, "No, 'cause it's her hair."

"Damn right is my hair, so can we start going before it get's late."

The two men share one last look, a silent exchange of worried looks before Suguru starts the car. No one talks or plays music. The drive is completely silent for the rest of the day's drive.

You want to say you regret the spontaneous decision, but you don't, not when some of the weight on your chest has been lifted. Sure you might regret it later when you're thinking more clearly, but right now it brings you a sense of peace.

The sun is just starting to fall below the horizon when Satoru pulls into the parking lot of a dingy motel, the sign slanted and flickering. You turn your nose up while looking around the parking lot. There's a gated pool area, with white lounging chairs spread along the edge, and a tipped sign with rules on it. Beyond that, secluded in one of the sides of the hotel, are two large trees next to each other with a hammock, and a patch of white cement underneath it. The place feels deserted, untaken care of with the thrown trash on the paved parking lot, and dried leaves on the sidewalks outside the rooms.

“Are we really staying here?” You ask, trying to keep your discontentment hidden, but your nose still wrinkles the more you look around.

Suguru groans as he stretches from the passenger seat, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "We're going to have to, next town is another two hours from here," he turns to look at you, "Do you want your own room or are you okay with sharing?"

You look around the parking lot, a piece of trash blowing across your field of vision, "Sharing is fine with me, I wouldn't want to be alone here."

Suguru nods and starts to get out of the car, "Alright then, I'll go get us a room, meanwhile, you two can start getting your bags out if you want to shower. We can go out to eat after, there's a nice burger joint around here."

Satoru follows, keys jingling as he spins them on his pointer finger, resting his arms on the roof of the car, "Sounds like a plan."

You stay in the car, watching Suguru head toward the front desk, your now short hair sticking to the back of your neck. "Do you think it's safe to stay here?" you voice, peering out the window at Satoru.

He walks towards the back window, resting his arms on the edge as he looks at you, long body curved awkwardly, "It's fine, we've stayed here before it's not as bad as it looks. It's another small town so nothing ever happens." He pats the top of the car and moves to the back, opening the trunk.

You're still reluctant to get out, but you step out of the car, tugging on the hem of your shirt down. The air has cooled from earlier in the day, a cool breeze making the leaves of the trees sway, and less humid. Standing beside Satoru, you take your bag from his hands, fingers touching his, and wait as he digs for his and Suguru's. Neither of you speaks, the sing-song chirps of the birds as they fly towards their nests, and the rustling of the leaves. A few car engines can be heard off in the distance, and footsteps approaching you grabs your attention.

You look up to see Suguru heading toward you, arms stretched over his head as he reties his long hair, biceps flexing, and the large arm holes of the tank top his wearing slipping, one of his nipples exposed to the cool afternoon air. "We got a room on the bottom floor," he announces, taking his bag from Satrou, "Room twenty-four."

The sound of the trunk being slammed shut echoes, followed by the sound of wings flapping as birds fly out from the trees near you. The sound startles you and you look up to watch them fly off, the sky starting to turn a shade of lilac, orange and pink bleeding into the soft color.

"Come on, y/n," Satoru calls after you, waving you over to follow them.

The walk toward the room takes you around the hotel, somewhere near the pair of trees and hammock you had seen when you pulled up. The hotel lights flicker on, buzzing softly over your head while Suguru opens the door with a key.

The lights are off when the door swings open, Suguru flicks the lights on when he steps in, and Satoru hangs behind until you walk past the threshold. The room is nicer than you expected, appearing to have recently been remodeled.

There are two queen beds against one of the walls, light fixtures hanging on either side of each one, with a shared bedside drawer in the center, and a bible placed neatly underneath. There's a large flat-screen tv hanging in front of the beds, with an entertainment center underneath that has a coffee bar, mini-fridge, and the remote for the tv.

"This is nicer than I thought it would be," you answer, settling down on one of the beds, the sheets smelling like freshly washed linen.

"See, I told you it wasn't as bad as it seemed," Satoru grins, tossing his bag at the edge of the bed closer to the door, Suguru doing the same before falling back onto his bed, the springs giving under his weight.

"How about you shower first," Suguru offers, arms spread across the width.

You kick your sandals off, not about to pass on getting to the hot water first, you pick up your bag and head straight to the bathroom, "Yeah, sure."

The door clicks behind you once more, and you find yourself standing back under bright fluorescent lights, that don't do you any favors. You don't recognize yourself staring back in the mirror right next to the door above a large sink, hair cropped short and greasy, lips chapped from being out in the hot air all day. All that paired with Suguru's oversized shirt, the only thing you have on, along with the dark circles under your eyes, you look like a deranged person.

You don't bother trying to fix yourself and start to run the hot water while you undress, pulling the white shirt over your head, and letting it drop on the floor. Looking back up into the mirror you glance at your body, noting how most of the bruises from the previous night are now gone. It's crazy to think that in the last twenty-four hours, you went from a woman deeply in love, planning her days ahead with the man she loved, to a now single woman on a road trip with two men she had shared her entire high-school experience with.

Once the room starts to steam up, the mirror getting fogged up, you climb into the shower, hissing when the hot water touches your bare skin at first before relaxing under the shower head. You're much gentler with your skin this time, lathering yourself carefully, the nerves remembering the burning sting from the morning. You appreciate the quiet of the bathroom as you wash, the sound of the television muffled by the door, and the sound of the water.

When you come out of the shower, dressed in a baby blue sundress that stops mid-thigh, you seem like a different person from the one that showed up in the morning, and the one that cut her hair in a gas station restroom. You're humming as you put your dirty clothes in a separate part of your bag, your new mood has the two men staring at you, something you don't notice until you look up.

"What?" you ask, sitting down at the end of the bed near Satoru's legs.

Suguru shakes his head, putting his phone down on the bed, "Nothing. You just seem...like yourself again."

You raise a brow, "Is that a good or bad thing?"

"Good." Satoru breathes out, shifting to rest his head on your thigh, grabbing your hand to place on top of his white hair, humming in delight when you start massaging his scalp.

Suguru watches you two, eyes glued on the spot where your fingers circle in his best friend's hair, flickering up to find you smiling down at him. Something that he feels is misplaced blooming in his chest. Clearing his throat he gets up, grabs a handful of clothes from his bang, and announces, "I'm gonna shower now. I'll be out in a few," before disappearing into the door you came out.

You and Satoru remain like that for a few more moments, the sound of the shower running making you look up. A few more minutes pass before Satoru's head starts to feel heavy and you lift him off, standing up.

"Where are you going?" he asks, opening one eye to look at you.

"Need some fresh air."

He sits up, quickly suggesting, "Let me go with you."

You decline, grabbing Suguru's key from the drawer, "No, it's fine. I need some time alone and my hair needs to dry."

Satoru doesn't press any further, just stares at you and nods, "Okay, be careful, it's getting dark."

"I will," you smile, walking out the door.

In a span of a few minutes the sky has become a dark shade of blue, the sun still not fully below the horizon. The cool summer breeze lifts the end of your dress and engulfs you in the nostalgia of past family summer days when you'd go on trips like these and barbeque in the backyard. The chirping of the cicadas reminds you of lake days, and the firework shows they would have, the bright colors reflecting in the dark water.

You find yourself truly smiling for the first time today, making your way to the hammock that is illuminated by a single light post. You don't check to see how sturdy it is before settling into it, swinging back and forth as you look up into the night sky.

The stars are brighter out here, the light pollution from the city is not as bad, and you can make out more constellations. They slide in and out of view as you swing. You're so focused on the sky you don't hear the sound of a door shutting or footsteps approaching until someone is speaking right in front of you.

"You should have let Satoru come out here with you, I know it's a small town, but it's getting dark," Suguru gripes, stopping the hammock from swinging with both arms, caging you, "Don't want you doing something crazy like you did earlier."

His face is only a few inches away from yours, the scent of his cologne and body wash filling your nose, droplets of water falling from the ends of his hair onto your lap. If you tilt upwards a bit more your nose would brush against his. You can hear your heart beating in your ears and thumping against your ribs, the palms of your hands.

You smile up at him, "It's not that bad, the sun's just starting to go down. Anyways you're here now."

He drops his arms, grumbling, "God, I swear I wish I knew what was going on in that little head of yours. Scoot over." You move over, feeling the hammock slightly give under Suguru's weight as he sits beside you. You're quiet for a few minutes, Suguru gently swaying you with his heels on the ground. The sound of his voice startles you when he breaks it, "So are you going to tell me why you were crying this morning?"

You puff your cheeks, blowing the air out slowly, smiling sadly at the ground, remembering his comment from the party, "I think you already know, but if I must." You take another breath of hair, sighing as you turn to look at him, "I found him in bed with another woman, so I just left. Honestly, I didn't even know I was crying until I showed up at your doorstep."

It's quiet again, the cicadas chirping off in the distance, along with a dog barking at something, and the leaves crinkling over your head. You watch your feet hang above the ground, Suguru still swaying you back and forth.

"Well, he's an idiot if he thinks he can do better than you. Especially at his age," Suguru's words are somewhat comforting, they have you looking up at him, eyes widened, and giggle slipping from your lips. Suguru smiles at you, eyes shut closed, "What? I'm just saying it how it is. He thinks he's some big hot shot when he's just a forty-year-old man who can't date women his age 'cause he's a walking red flag." You laugh harder, your body shaking, laughter slowly dying, and your vision focusing on him through the tears.

You shouldn't. You know you shouldn't, that you're letting the heartache that weighs down on your chest cloud your judgment, but you lean in any way to press your lips to his, the hammock swaying under your movement. Suguru's lips are slightly chapped, and he tastes of the greasy hot dog Satoru had gotten each of you at the gas station earlier. You're sure he can taste the same thing on you when you slide your tongue into his mouth. Your hand finds its way into the tangled mess of his wet hair, threading your fingers through it as you pull him down to deepen the kiss.

He forces himself to pull back, a string of spit connecting your lips, breathing unsteadily, asking, "You sure about this?" You look down at him, the sound of your heart beating loud in your ears. Swallowing down you nod, reconnecting your lips for a more passionate kiss that more tongue and teeth knocking against one another.

"Make me forget about him."

The hammock sways more when you toss your legs over his waist, tilting it so far back that the two of you almost flip over onto the ground, but you never break the kiss. The hand in his hair massages his scalp while you grip his bare shoulder with the other, slowly letting it drop to feel his broad chest and ridges of his abdomen. Playing with the waistband of his loose-fitted sweats.

He moans into your mouth when you cup him through the material, your hand applying pressure down as your rub it. "You're a tease you know?" He utters, hand reaching up to hold onto your jaw as he kisses along your exposed neck and chest, fingers slipping under your dress.

You tremble above him as you feel his hand going up higher, your hand slipping beneath the waistband of his sweats, discovering that he forwent underwear. "What about you? You didn't even put on underwear," you throw back, feeling his hot length in the palm of your hand, fingers wrapping around at the base.

"Fuck," he murmurs into your neck, nipping at the skin while burying his face further into your neck, his comeback dispersing from his thought process when you start stroking him. He hurriedly bunches the front of your dress, not wanting to let you do all the work, and groans when he sees the lacey blue thong, a small wet patch already forming. He circles your clit with his forefinger, his legs shifting underneath you to have more of a steady ground. He nuzzles his face back into your chest, nibbling and sucking on the tops of your breasts.

Your head is resting on top of his, free hand tangled in his long damp hair, your breathing growing more uneven the more he plays with your clit and folds through your underwear. His cock grows harder in your hand, twitching when you brush on the bottom of the mushroom tip, his sweatpants getting in the way.

Suguru's fingers slide the fabric of your thong to the side, directly touching you, fingers glistening under the moonlight. He circles your entrance with one finger, slowly slipping it in, groaning when he feels your walls pulsing around his thick digit. "You're so fucking wet, Jesus Christ, and hot," he huffs, "Guess he didn't fuck you right if just a few touches can get you soaked."

Pull the waistband of his pants down freeing his cock, looking down to watch as it hits his lower stomach. Drool seeping out the corners of your mouth as you slur, "He didn't. I rarely ever came when we did it."

"Oh really, guess I'll have to help you make up for all the times you didn't get to cum," he replies, slipping a second finger, making a come hither motion. His fingers feel deep inside your cunt, brushing against that one spot Satoru's uncle never seemed to quite reach. The spot that has your eyes rolling to the back and your mind going in and out of focus every time Suguru brushes against it, the heel of his palm hitting your clit, stimulating you further.

You're out of it, hand moving on its own accord, fucking yourself down on his fingers buried in your cunt. "Please, please, want to cum for you," you moan out loud, your brain no longer filtering any of your thoughts, "wanna come all over your fingers and your cock," your hand squeezes around his length.

Suguru chokes on a moan, his hips thrusting up into your hand, the hammock starting to sway again as he loses his ground while doing so, "Fuck, keep doing that, just like that."

Your hand moves up and down, matching the rhythm set by him, watching as the head of his cock is squeezed in your hand before it pops back up when you go down his shaft. You don't understand why, but the sight has you gushing around Suguru's fingers, thighs starting to tremble as your first orgasm approaches.

"Gonna cum," you whimper, burying your nose in his hair. The squelching sounds of your pussy grow louder and louder with every thrust of his fingers.

The front of your dress gets pulled down, exposing your tits to anyone who happens to walk by, Suguru's warm lips encasing one, biting into it before pulling back to look at the lewd expression on your face. "Then cum," he tells you, taking the nipple back into his lips to suck on it.

A couple of more movements of his fingers and you fall apart above him. His cock slips from your grasp, arms flying up to steady wrap around his neck while you shake, his fingers still moving in and out, helping you ride out your orgasm. You're mind goes blank, and the only thing you're able to process is the pleasure coursing through your body.

When you come back down, the world feels fuzzy, your entire body buzzing. You feel circular motions being rubbed onto your lower back, the sensation relaxing and has you melting into Suguru's warm embrace.

"You good?" He asks, the side of his face resting on your chest, tongue licking the sweat off.

Nodding you answer, tongue lax from the post-orgasm bliss, "Yeah, I'm good."

The hammock continues to sway, the heels of his fit touching the ground. The swaying cause you to feel something hard pressing to your inner thigh, making you very aware that you were the only one you came, and that Suguru is still suckling out your nipples, tongue playing with the hardened buds.

"You have pretty tits," he comments, apparently unbothered by his hard boner.

You ignore his compliment and snake your hand between your bodies, running your nails along his navel. "You didn't get to come," you say, looking down at him with a pout.

Suguru lets go of your nipple with a soft pop, smiling up at you, "Yeah, but that can easily be fixed," his fingers find your hole again, and he circles around it, "by you letting me fuck your tight little cunt properly."

You let out a moan, arms tightening around his neck. There's no need for you to respond, the way you press and push your tongue into his mouth is enough to let him know that you were planning on it anyway. Why start something if you weren't going to do it right anyway?

The two of you continue to kiss, tongues tangling with each other. Drool covers your faces as you sloppily kiss one another. Suguru's hands find the globes of your ass, large hands squeezing them and lifting the back of your dress, exposing your ass and wet pussy to the summer breeze.

Anyone could walk out into the parking lot and see what you two are up to, but you didn't care, you were intoxicated by the smell of Suguru, warm hands holding your legs open as he ran the head of his cock between your folds. You didn't care cause you also had this urge and need to erase the sensation of the places your ex had touched, to reach places he had never made you reach. If anyone saw you, well that was the last thing on your mind and the least of your worries right now.

"Need you, Sugu," you whimper, feeling the tip bump against your swollen clit.

You feel one of his hands slide down your thigh, slipping into the pocket of his sweats, "One second, pretty girl, need to be safe first." He holds up a shiny blue foiled square packet between two fingers, tearing it open with his teeth.

"So you just care condoms around?" you ask, forehead pressed against his, one of your hands coming down to help him slide the rubber on his cock.

"No," he pauses, the grip on your thigh getting tight," but you know who does? Satoru. And I just happen to be wearing his pants." The condom is fully on by the time he finishes his sentence, "There all done, now where were we."

"You were about to fuck me," you reply, reaching down to position him at your entrance. You both moan when the head slides in, your walls clenching around it. You slide down on his cock, inch by inch, feeling the stretch of his thick cock, your eyes glued on the spot where you two are starting to meet.

When you bottom out, Suguru tosses his head back, cursing loudly, "Fucking hell, your pussy feels like heaven," his nails dig into your skin, "You're squeezing me so fucking good right now."

"Yeah?" you get out, brain starting to feel mushy all over again, filling absolutely full with his cock buried deep in you. You give yourself a few moments to adjust, before raising yourself up, whining loudly as you feel the drag of his cock, and dropping back down.

The hammock sways because of your movements, slowly at first, matching the pace you set as you slowly bounce on Suguru's cock. But the fast your start to move the more the hammock rocks back and forth. Your boobs shake in Surugu's face, his footing on the ground lost as he chases after the sweet taste of your skin.

"Feels so good, Sugu," you whimper, dragging out the last vowel of his name. The muscles of your thighs are starting to burn, and the spots where your knees dip down into the hammock hurt. But none of that matters to you when it feels like your insides are getting turned inside out and the scent of Suguru's sweat permeates the night's summer air.

Large hands grip your ass and soft lips nip on your neck, Suguru's warm breath tickling your skin when he speaks, "Yeah? Are you gonna cum all over my cock soon? Gonna let me feel you cream all over it while I fuck you outside?"

You nod, arms pulling closer into your chest, struggling to continue lifting yourself, warm flushing throughout your body, "Yeah. I want cum again, all over your cock."

His hips move upwards to meet yours, the hammock swaying severely. The sounds of skin rubbing against skin sounds loud in the parking area and the sound of the rope straining around the tree synchronizes with the thrusts of your hips meeting his. The loud creaking would have had you burning with embarrassment if your mind wasn't going blank as you cum.

Your orgasm comes in long waves, rolling over your body. Warmth washes over your body as you shake in Suguru's hold, hips stilling against his while you cum, all the strength to lift yourself gone from your legs, choked moans falling from your lips. "Oh my god, so good. O-oh my god," you sob burying your head in his long hair.

Your hips roll into his, walls clenching and unclenching around his thick cock. Everything feels warm and out of focus, you barely notice that Suguru has stood up until you feel the bark of one of the trees on your back. The rough pieces dig into your lower back, surely leaving scratch-like marks, while Suguru ruts into it.

His breathing is irregular, his large hands holding up by your thigh, chasing his own release. His nose is buried in the crook of your neck, hot breath hitting your burning skin, and his loud grunts right under your ear. You can feel his lips moving on the junction of your neck, but you don't hear any of the perverted words his saying, the world beyond his shoulder turning white.

You cum for the third time, body arching off the tree, legs shaking around Suguru's waist. Your release spurs his, and he cums in the condom, sweaty forehead pressed against your chest. You wonder if his vision also goes white and if he hears the same ringing in his ears as he empties his balls.

The hearing in your ears slowly returns, vision clearing, your arms still wrapped around his neck while he mindlessly kneads your ass. The first thing you hear is the rustling of the leaves and tall grass, and Suguru's labored breathing. The next is the far-off call of your names, you're brain recognizing Satoru's voice. You can't pinpoint where he is, but assuming the distance he's on the other side, probably heading toward the restaurant Suguru had mentioned to look for you.

Wiggling in Suguru's hold, you drop your legs, choking on a moan when you feel him still hard inside of you. Suguru shakes, whimpering, "Stop that, you're not helping."

"How are you still hard?" you ask, eyes staring in the direction of the hotel room, half-expecting to see Satoru round the corner and find you. Your hand sneaks down, pushing on his navel slowly pulling his still-hard cock out.

Suguru hisses at the sensation of your fingers touching him, pressing soft kisses under your earlobe, "There's a thing called stamina, and I have plenty to go all night."

You chuckle, your body feeling like jelly in his hold, fingers carding through his long now dried hair, "Yeah, but we don't have all night, Satoru's looking for us."

"I heard," he murmurs, dropping your legs and pressing another kiss to your lips. He squeezes your ass, making you gasp, taking the chance of your lips being parted to slip into your mouth once more.

You enjoy being kissed, and touched, by him more than you want to admit. But as your head beings to clear, as you began to realize while kissing him, going through with this is all feels wrong now. Both Suguru and Satoru had been your best friends throughout most of your high school years, and though you had daydreamed of kissing like this, doing things like this, with either one of them, you knew that crossing that line would change things between all three of you.

You break the kiss, your hands resting on his shoulders, you're out of breath when you speak, "Aren't you scared he'll find us? What are you supposed to say if he does?"

Suguru comes up, a grin painted on his face, his lips swollen, "Then I guess you better hurry and help me with this." His hold on your waist loosens, one hand coming up to support himself on the tree behind you while he slips the condom off, tossing it into the shrubs beside you. Stroking himself with one hand while you drop down to your knees.

The patch of grass you kneel on isn't the softest, small rocks dig into your knees, and your soaked underwear sticks uncomfortably to the inside of your thigh when you rest your weight on the back of your calves. You put your hands on his half-covered thighs, tugging the rest of the sweatpants down to his knees while looking up at watching him touch himself. Keeping your hands on his thighs, nails digging into the hard muscles, you lick a long stripe from the crease of his balls to the slit on his tip, his hand coming off to rest on the back of your head.

You bat your lashes at him while you run your tongue along the shaft, teasing him endlessly, taking some enjoyment in the frustrated grunts he lets slip. You take one of his balls into your lips, suckling on it while running your hand up and down his shaft, feeling it burn an imprint into your palm. Memorizing the sounds he makes as he waits for you to take him into your mouth. Even with his hand resting on the back of your head he doesn't force you to stop teasing him and for that, you decide to end your torture and take the tip into your mouth. You've already long crossed the line that kept you at just friends.

Suguru easily hits the back of your throat, and the girth of his cock causes the corners of your lips to burn, the muscles of his thighs spasming as you take him in deeper. It takes you some time to acclimate to his size, having to pull off a couple of times before your nose is almost touching the trimmed hairs on his pelvis. But you manage, throat constricting around his cock, tongue licking the large vein that runs underneath. His finger grips a bunch of your hair, and the hand on the tree clenches while he exhales harshly out of his nose. You look up at him, eyes wide and dewy from the painful stretch of your mouth, the insides of your cheeks hollowing. His jaw clenches and the hold on your hair tightens.

He almost sounds broken when he speaks, dark eyes hazed over with pure unadulterated lust, "You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth," his fingers loosen just enough so he can rub his thumb on your temple, "It's taking everything in me not to fuck it right now. Wanna feel you gagging around it so badly right now. Wanna fuck myself into your throat until there's tears streaming down your pretty little cheeks." You hum around him, the sultry sound of his voice causing slick to seep out of your ruined cunt, "Oh? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Too bad we don't have enough time...but maybe next time."

You choke around him when his hips move on their own, pushing himself even further down your throat, your nails digging into his thighs. Pulling off you take a deep breath, strings of spit connecting your lips to his length. You pout up at him, voice hoarse, "That was mean."

"I know," He groans out, watching you take him back into your mouth, struggling much less than the first time. You pause when his coarse pubic hairs brush on the tip of your nose, swallowing around his length, humming when he tosses his head back moaning. Hollowing your cheeks you pull back until just the tip is inside of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the slit. Breathing in through your nose you glide your head back down, flatting your tongue on the underside.

You start out with a slow steady pace, taking your time and letting your throat adjust to the girth and length, whiffing the scent of his body wash that lingers on his skin. Your rhythm increases so that the sounds of your gurgles and hums can be heard by anyone who happens to walk out of their room. Your knees are starting to hurt where the small pebbles in the grass dig harshly into your flesh, you're sure you're even bleeding some from the jagged edges of a few of the rocks cutting into it. But you can't bring yourself to care when the sight above you is heavenly.

Suguru's hair is cascading over his face, his body curved downward, and his forehead rests on the hand that is supporting him against the tree. His mouth is ajar, letting moans and whines slip past them as he twitches in your warm mouth, his release looming over him.

"Can you hear the lovely noises your mouth is making while you take my thick cock down your tight throat?" He groans, the muscles of his thighs spasming under your hands. You hum around him, pushing your head down until your chin touches his swaying balls, batting your eyelash at him. He snickers at the lust-filled look you give him while pulling back, your teeth dragging along the length. "Gonna let me come in your mouth?"

"Mmhm," your hand moves down to play with his heavy balls, mouth descending once more.

You take more than you meant, your throat spasming around his length, loud choked sounds reaching his ears. He would feel sorry, but the sound of you gagging around his cock and your hand squeezing his sac, is all it takes to push him over the edge.

He instinctively pushes you back down on his member when you attempt to come up for air, not expecting him to finish at that moment. His hips move reflexively into your mouth, the salty taste of his cum filling your mouth, fucking his cum down your throat, whimpering and heaving for air while his thighs twitch under the palms of your hand.

When he finishes his hold loosens up and you pull back, breathing in throw your nose, chest hurting from the lack of air. You keep your mouth closed as you try to recuperate, freeing one hand to hold on to Suguru's softening cock, resting back. You swirl the contents in your mouth, humming while tapping Suguru's thigh to get his attention. Your position the head of his cock under the curve of your lips, carefully opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, the tip brushing against the slit.

Above you, Suguru's eyes focus on the sight below him, his cock twitching in your hand. He wishes for a moment that he'd carried his phone out when he came to look for you, but how was he supposed to know you would end up in such a crude position? He would've taken the video of you swallowing his cum as a memento, one that he would've treasured for the rest of his life.

"You're a little minx, you know that," he grunts out while you tuck him back into his pants. You stand and fix the top of your dress, reaching beneath to pull off your drenched underwear which you toss in a can near the opposite tree, shrugging.

"I've been told," you respond, feeling the cool summer breeze blow under your dress, expression unreadable.

Silence follows and the two of you stand awkwardly a few feet from each other, desire no longer clouding your minds. Your mouth opens and closes a few times like you can't form the correct words to say right now. You had wanted this earlier, had wanted to forget the touch of the man you had once loved, and you had for those couple of minutes. But now that you were thinking more clearly you knew that you had made a mistake by using one of your closest friends for your own benefit. Now not only did you still feel the fingertips of a ghost but the soft lingering touches of someone you still cared for and who would still very much play a part in your life.

It's as if Suguru can see the turmoil going on inside your head, even when you show very little, but he lets out a sigh and rubs the back of his neck before breaking the silence, "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want. This could be a one-time thing. Don't feel guilty about it either, I know how you can be, I knew you were hurting and still let you go through with it." You blink at him, the breeze lifting the bottom of your dress, the far-off calls of your name reaching your ears. Suguru looks over his shoulder, turns on his heel, and starts walking toward the room, "Come on, Satoru's still looking for us."

He doesn't turn back to make sure you follow him. His hands buried deep in the pockets of his pants. And that simple act makes your heart ache even more than when you found your boyfriend in bed with another woman.

The tension is thick between you and Suguru the next day, Satoru oblivious to the events that transpired the night before sits in the back seat sleeping for most of the drive. Which leaves you alone in the front with your body positioned at an awkward angle leaning on the passenger door. Sugurur's music plays lowly, his thumb brushing along the curve of the steering wheel and his eyes on the road ahead.

You're cropped hair blows against the wind, chin resting on the palm of your head while you watch fields and trees flash past. A pair of Satoru's sunglasses rest on the bridge of your nose, protecting your eyes from the glaring sun and hiding the glances you sneak at Suguru.

His jaw is set while he looks ahead, glancing at his mirrors, and his hair is pulled into a ponytail, sunglasses resting on the top of his head. The hand that's holding onto the wheel flexes causing the snake head of his tattoo to give the illusion of it opening its mouth, the movement drawing your attention to travel down his face to this hand. A tingling feeling blossoms in the pit of your stomach, recalling the warmth of them wrapped around your body, holding you up, and the heaviness of his hand on the crown of your head when you had your mouth wrapped around him. Your eyes flicker from his tattoo to his crotch, which is still covered by the same sweats he wore the previous night.

"You're not going to talk to me, but you're going to eye me like a piece of meat?" he grouses, turning his head to look at you.

Your eyes flutter back to the passing scenery, your face feeling hot and the back of your throat drier than ever. Your voice is a higher pitch when you answer, the palms of your hands sweating on your lap, "I don't know what you're talking about, I wasn't looking at you."

"Yeah, sure, and you didn't have my cock down your throat last night," he throws back, laughing, attempting to sound teasing, but you can hear the hurt behind his chuckle.

Your entire head snaps to look back at Satoru, who is thankfully still peacefully sleeping in the back curled in an uncomfortable angle, "Sshh, do you want Satoru to find out?"

"I wouldn't mind if he did," Suguru shrugs, turning to look at you. You wish his sunglasses were obscuring his eyes so that you wouldn't have to see the saddened look they give you, "Look I told you not to worry about last night, let's just act like it never happened. 'Kay?"

You swallow, shifting back to your prior position, chest hurting, "How can we when you won't even look at me? I'm not the one making things weird, you are. Last night shouldn't have happened at all."

"Am the one making things wierd?" Suguru snickers, his voice rising, "You're the one who couldn't even look me in the eyes last night after you threw your underwear in the trash."

You're head whips around to look at Satoru, "Shh, you're going to wake him. Anyways you're the one who didn't talk to me for the rest of the night, and you completely ignored me this morning."

"Cause I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Well, you're making me uncomfortable now by not talking to me," you argue back, watching his jaw clench and unclench before he turns back to the road.

"Fine, I'll start talking to you again," he infers, running his tongue on his bottom lip, clearing his throat before asking "Why do you care so much if Satoru finds out if we slept together." You know Suguru well enough to know that he isn't asking out of simple curiosity, but because it's clearly bothering him that you care so much.

You sigh, glancing at the backseat once more, "Because we're friends, and I don't want his opinion of me to change after finding out I slept with one of my closest friends on the same day I broke up with his uncle."

"You know Satoru isn't like that. He'd probably tell us to turn back around so he could beat the living shit out of him."

You swallow, a knot forming in the back of your throat, "I know, but still."

The car falls quiet after that, the awkward tension between you and him remains, but at the very least he asks you to change the music or give him directions and you can sit comfortably in your seat. You don't know if things will ever return to the way things were before, but what you can do is hope that they do.

Satoru wakes up towards the end of your drive, noting the change in the atmosphere between you and Suguru. He longer feels restless like he felt last night when he found the two of you walking on eggshells after running into him when he was returning to the room. He doesn't know what had the two of you acting like that, but as he watches you speak to each other for the first time since going to bed, he feels back at ease.

"Are you going to tell me what happened between the two of you that you were all weird last night and this morning?" Satoru asks, stretching his arms over his head, the scenery around starting to shift from the countryside to city life.

"It was something silly," Suguru answers, shooting you a half-smile, which you return.

He pouts in the back, hating that you two are keeping things from him, "Okay. I guess if you're talking again everything's fine." Satoru lets himself fall back in his seat, running a hand through his hair, "So what are we doing tonight? This is the last stop, and it's the least boring of them all. How about we go to that club from last time," he says, looking at Suguru.

The cars slowly start to pile up on one another the deeper you go into the city, Suguru's foot going a little heavy on the brake to keep from rear-ending the car in front of him that keeps braking. "Yeah, sure, but first let's get to the hotel."

The car falls quiet, the radio turned down letting the loud city noise surround you fully. You can hear the far-off distant honks, and a few only a few cars down, while you're stuck in traffic, you'd think years of living in the city you would have gotten used to it all, but the pounding in your head seems to grow the longer you stay seated surrounded by all of it.

You feel relieved when Suguru finally pulls into a private parking lot surrounded by buildings, he pays before driving into the lot and up to the third floor. He parks near the elevator, and takes his keys out, looking at you both. "Well, let's get out stuff and check in."

You follow them out of the car, getting your stuff out of the trunk before heading into the hotel to check in. The hotel has high ceilings and maroon walls with golden accents. There are plants everywhere, and large columns lining the way up to the front desk. The receptionist greets you, an overused smile on her face, "Hi, how can I help you?"

"We'd like to get a room," Suguru starts, the receptionist's eyes flickering between the three of you, and continues when he notices the weird look she gives you, "Two queens please."

"Actually, I'd like my own room," you insert, Suguru glancing over his shoulder at you, an upset look flashing in his eyes that disappears just as quickly.

He turns back around, his voice hiding the hurt, "Okay, then we'll still get the room with two queens and one with a single."

The receptionist nods and types a few things on her computer, asking "Cash or card?"

"Card," Suguru responds, reaching for his wallet. You make a note to transfer your part later.

"Okay," she drags out, turning the card machine toward him, clicking a few more things as he pays. "Here are your keys, the rooms are right across from each other. Room two thirty-four is a single room and room two thirty-five is a double."

"Thank you, sweet thing," Satoru says taking them from her while Suguru puts his wallet back in his pocket.

You all head over to the elevator, the air around you and Suguru still awkward, Satoru standing between you and him as the doors close and you head up to your rooms.

"Why'd you get a separate room?" Satoru asks.

You lean into his shoulder, lying, "Cause you two snore."

Satoru looks down at you with feigned hurt, while Suguru chuckles, "We do not."

The elevator bell dings, opening to a long hallway with the same shade of maroon as the lobby and gold accents. Satoru leads the way toward your rooms, stopping in between the doors. "Okay, so we'll meet out here in thirty minutes and we can get food before going out to have some fun," Suguru declares, handing you your key, and smiling at you, "If you need anything we're right across the hall."

You nod, "I know." Both men stay still waiting for you to disappear behind the door. You give them a small wave after opening your door, " I'll see you in a bit."

You're vision and hearing come in and out of focus, the amount of alcohol coursing through your body making it hard to do anything. One moment you're swaying your hips to the blaring music, ass grinding back on someone, the next you hunched over a toilet, your knees on the dirty ground, the unsavory sounds of you retching fill up the small room. Somehow you manage to get to your feet, stumbling out of the bathroom into someone, and that's the last thing you remember before coming back to now.

It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light so that you can gather your surroundings. You're back in your hotel room, you can tell that much by the clothes thrown over the back of one of the chairs, and something is prodding between your legs. Something wet and long.

Peering down you spot see the top of white puffs of white hair, your legs squeeze around, head shifting to go deeper between your legs, drawing out a long moan. Your head doesn't feel fuzzy from just the liquor your drank, but also from the pleasure between your thighs, so it takes you a moment to recognize who is between your legs.

Satoru's tongue lapping at your folds, circling your clit, it all feels so good. Your hand comes down to dig into his hair, there's really no way of telling you ended up here with him, the dress you'd worn to the club ripped on the ground, along with your panties. And the alcohol clouding your mind doesn't leave you much room for you to think about it.

Your legs squeeze and unsqueeze around your head, your legs stretching over his shoulder, your heel resting in the center of his back. The knot in your belly tightens, feeling as if it's about to snap the more his tongue moves along your wet folds.

"Gonna cum soon, 'Toru," you grumble, your head falling to the side. You feel his fingers draw circles on the thigh of your stretched-out leg while his free hand grips your other thigh. He hums into your folds, the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure up your spine, your back arching off the bed.

He comes up for air for a moment, a string of your juices and his spit leaving him connected to your folds, slurring over two words, "Then come." His head drops back between your legs, tongue moving more feverishly, urging you to release over his tongue.

And you do. Your back arches off the bed, your hand pushing him in further between your legs, a strangled moan slipping out of your mouth. Satoru's tongue continues to lap at your folds, overstimulating you while your legs jerk and squeeze around his head. Your entire body goes numb while you climax, tongue lolling along the back of your teeth.

You let out a whimper while coming down from your high, Satoru's lips wrapped around your clit, sucking tenderly on it. Your mind clears, and you glance back down at him, pushing gently pushing his head, you notice his hips moving against the end of the bed. You giggle, sliding your legs off his shoulders and pulling him up, thoughts still muddled, "Do you always get so needy you end up fucking the bed?"

Satoru presses open-mouthed kisses on your shoulders, making his way up to your lips, breath reeking of alcohol, "Only when the pussy I'm eating is divine."

You smile against his lips before pulling him down. Your tongue and his tangling with each other, your fingers running through his soft white hair. You can taste yourself on his lips, can smell yourself as you deepen the kiss. The scent mixes with the sweet scent that is purely Satoru Gojo. His smell and weight of him are everywhere.

His hands are sliding up your thighs, one hand stopping at your hips while the other continues up towards your bare breast. You feel him pinch one of your nipples, twisting it between his thumb and pointer. Your hand goes from his shoulder down his own body until you feel the curve of his ass, squeezing the muscles in your hand.

Satoru moans into your mouth, lips leaving yours leaving you chasing after them, "You're naughty," he chuckles, head dropping down into your neck, sucking and biting at the skin. You feel him grinding against your pussy, cock sliding between your folds, head nudging against your swollen clit, your legs coming up to rest on the sides of his waist.

You let yourself moan freely, your hips rolling back up to sync up with his thrusts. Everything is becoming clearer and fuzzier at the same time, you're sobering up, but the satisfaction you feel shooting up your spine when the head of Satoru's cock bumps against your bud. "Feels so good, 'Toru," you slur, your head dropping on top of his.

"Yeah? Me too," he grunts, glancing down to watch as he slides between your wet folds, running his tongue as he tasted the taste of your juices that lingered on his lips. Satoru suddenly moves away from you, resting up his knees, one arm wrapping around your waist and lifting you, making you yelp, "You've ever sixty-nined before?"

"No," you gasp, your body shifting in his arms as he makes way for the center of the bed.

"Wanna try?" He grins, dropping back on the bed, and already turning you around, too eager to have his lips on your cunt and your mouth wrapped around his cock.

"I um..." you look over your shoulder, watching Satoru situate your legs on either side of his face, the eager look at his face makes your face burn, "I guess," you utter turning back to come face to face with his hard leaky cock. He's long, the head flushed pink, and not very girthy, balls hanging heavy.

You jerk forward when you feel the tip of his nose nudging against your clenching hole. "You smell so good," he mutters, sticking out his tongue to circle your clit, repeating the same motions he had moments earlier.

With a shaky hand, you reach up to hold his length in your hand, whimpering as you feel him swirl his tongue into your clenching walls, sliding down and back up. You lean forward, wrapping your lips around the tip. The hand you used to stroke him with stays on the base of his shaft, your mouth descending along the length until your lips are brushing against your hand.

Satoru whines against your pussy, muttering dirty words that you can't quite make out over your heavy breathing and choked gags. Your close your eyes when you feel his tongue go down to circle your clit, moaning around his hard cock as he spreads your labia for easier access to your pussy. The vibrations have him bucking up into your mouth, hitting the back while your hollow your cheeks and slowly start bobbing up and down.

You do your best to fit as much of him as you can down your throat, using your hand on the parts that don't fit in your mouth, gliding it up when you go up. Keeping your lips around the tip a moment longer, tongue licking the pre-cum that oozes out. It tastes oddly sweet, if you didn't know any better you'd assume it was due to all the sweets he consumes, but not that you're going to complain about how it tastes.

Soon the sound of gagging and slurping fills the walls of the hotel room and the smell of sex penetrates your sense of smell. the back of your thighs starts spasming, and your throat burns from taking Satoru's cock as far down as you can manage. Your whine around his cock, the corners of your eyes stinging from the tears, his hands spread your ass and he watches your untouched hole clench around nothing while he licks your pussy.

He lets go of your cunt with a pop, licking the mess around his lips, fingers circling the rim. You squirm above him, whimpering, and he grins as he watches, "Ever been here?"

You shake your head, suckling on the head, "Really? It looks like it wants something, it's just begging to have something to squeeze," he teases, pushing a single finger in, groaning when it clenches around it, his lips returning to lick at your hole.

You can feel his tongue and finger sliding in and out of either hole. The sensation pushes closer and closer to the edge and concentrating on sucking on his cock get's harder the more he touches you. You pull him out of your mouth using your hand to stroke him while your head drops onto his thigh.

"Gonna cum soon," you warn, moving your hips back to meet his finger and tongue.

You feel him smile against your wet folds, a second finger joining the one in your ass, "Yeah? Do you like your ass getting fingered that much?" You moan in response, all the words jumbled in your head, "Oh, so you do. Okay then cum all over my tongue while I finger fuck your ass."

His fingers start moving much more quickly, both curving up to drag along the walls of your ass while he eats your cunt out with vigor. You don't last long with the quick rhythm he sets, your release washing over you with no warning. The back of your thighs shake and tremble in Satoru's large hand, sweat dribbling down your temple, and loud moans making the back of your throat burn even more. Your nails dig and scratch on Satoru's thighs, his dick twitching in your other hand due to the pain, before he releases all over it, some of his semen landing on your face.

The two of you are out of breath by the time you finish coming down from your high, chests rising and falling rapidly, your brain feeling like mush while you watch Satoru's thighs spasm, his cock still semi-hard in your hand. You can hear him mumbling something behind though can't make out what it is, and can feel his fingers pulling out from your ass, slowly sliding down your folds.

You whimper when you feel your body getting shifted, drool sticking to the side of your cheek. Satoru's flushed face comes into view, and his cock is sliding between your folds. His lips are moving, but you can't make out what he's saying, but you can guess what it is by the way his cock presses against you. So you just nod and watch him grin before he reaches for his pants hanging off the edge of the bed, reaching into a pocket for a small foiled square packet.

You close your eyes, the hearing returning to your ears, and you can hear him ripping the packet. You feel his hands slide behind, a few seconds passing before you feel him slide the head between your folds once more.

"Ready?" He asks, head already pushing in.

When you speak your voice is dry and hoarse, the back burning from pushing him too far back, "Yeah."

Satoru rubs the high of your cheek, raising his hips to push into your heat, groaning as he does, his eyelids fluttering. "Not going to last long," he whimpers, glancing between your bodies to where he's entering you inch by inch. "You're pussy's so warm and tight," he snickers, his feet getting planted on the bed, "Can you sit up for me?"

You look at him, meekly nodding, using his chest to steady yourself on while you rise, "I think so." You whimper feeling him reach deep inside you. You swear that if you drop down a bit more he'd be fucking his cock directly into your cervix.

"Good girl. No, fuck yourself a bit on my cock," he moans, eyes scanning down every curve of your body.

Taking a deep breath you raise your hips, sliding halfway up his length before dropping back down, a loud moan falling out from your lips. Satoru's eyes glued on your bouncing breasts. You keep doing it over and over again, your movements have no real rhythm, and your body is tired from the two previous orgasms. And to be honest you don't think you would have been able to handle anything more.

But Satoru has other plans, with his feet already planted on the bed, he moves down at the same time you move up, harshly thrusting up when drop. His balls hit the curve of your ass, and there's a loud clap that bounces off the walls syncing with the loud moan you let out.

Your body continues to be fucked up into, your brain turning more and more into mush as Satoru keeps hitting that one spot deep inside of you. Your nails dig into his chest, leaving bright red makes. Satoru hisses and moans beneath you, his fingers gripping tightly to the fat at your hips.

Like he said he doesn't last much longer, quickly releasing into the condom while his hand flies down to play with your clit again, wanting to feel your walls release around his cock. And he gets exactly that when you tremble above him before clasping onto him, your breath labored.

The two of you stay like that for a long time, Satoru's hands drawing circles on the small of your back, the soothing feeling causing your eyes to flutter close. You fall asleep on top of him, engulfed by his warmth.

You wake up hours later to the sun slipping in through the curtains of your room. A painful pounding in your head and the back of your throat feeling dry. You sit up rubbing your head, groaning while you blindly reach around trying to find the switch to one of the lamps.

You're body freezes when you feel the warmth of a body next to you. Quickly turning on the lights you find Satoru laying beside you. One arm rests on his bare chest while the other is extended. The sheets of the bed resting low on his hips, giving you a peek of some white hair.

Without thinking, you push him off the bed, letting out a yelp, "What are you doing in here?"

Satoru groans in pain, rubbing the back of his head while he rests his elbows on the bed. His eyes still filled with sleep and his head pounding with a hangover and from pain. "Don't know. Did you really have to push me off the bed?" he mumbles.

Wrapping the bed sheets around your body, you go to the side he's on, lightly kicking him with your feet, "Yes. Now get up and leave."

Satoru groans as your hands continue to push on him, the heels of your hand digging harshly into his back, "I'm getting up, give me a second." He stands to his full height, scanning the room for his clothes while holding the bed sheets he was wrapped in around his hips, "Shouldn't I stay so we can figure out what happened?"

You continue to push him towards the door while he picks up his clothes along the way, feeling knots in your throat, "Well based on our current state and the used condom at the end of the bed, I can make a pretty good guess. What I need you to do is to leave my room before Suguru comes in here asking where you at, and finds us fully naked."

Satoru slumps back onto you, heels digging into the floor, and pouts at the ceiling, "Why are you so worried about him finding out? Are you embarrassed you slept with me?"

"Yes very much so," you reply, panicking while reaching for the doorknob. You manage to open the door, and press both your palms to the small of his back, putting all your strength into pushing him out the door, "Now that you know that leave." Satoru stumbles out the door, crashing into a person who stands directly in front of him, before stumbling back into you. Looking around Satoru's tall frame you see Suguru outside your door, clenched hand in the air.

The three of you stare at each other, Suguru's hand still hovering over Satoru's blank expression. His hand drops to his side while his eyes flutter between you and Satoru, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

The seconds that pass feel like hours before he breaks the silence, "We're leaving in an hour." It's the last thing he says before leaving you and Satoru standing awkwardly next to each other.

The next four hours in the car drag on, and you're in the backseat again, Suguru driving the car with his jaw clenched and eyes covered by his sunglasses while Satoru sits beside him staring out the car. The air is heavy and tense, none of you talking since before checking out of the hotel. The uncomfortableness travels up your spine, the back of your neck sweating while you sit perfectly still in the center of the back seat. Waiting for Suguru to break the silence, his irritation radiating off of him.

He isn't the one that breaks the silence though, it's Satoru with a heavy frustrated groan, making you and Suguru jump. He drags his hands over the back of his undercut, sighing as he looks at Suguru, "I can't take this anymore, so say something."

"Like what?" Suguru snares, glaring at the road ahead.

Satoru waves his arms around, "I don't know, like why you're so angry right now."

"Like you don't know why I'm royally pissed at you right now."

"I do, but it'd be better if you just said it instead of shutting us out," Satoru replies, glancing at you, "What do you want me to say? Sorry for breaking our agreement of not sleeping with y/n," he's tone starts to get sarcastic, "Sorry that I got to her before you did."

You're in the back seat trying to speak, getting ignored as Suguru laughs, "You had an agreement not to sleep with me?"

He speaks over you, glancing at you through the rearview mirror, "Should I tell him or should you?"

"Tell me what?" Satoru asks, his eyes flickering between him and you, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

You attempt to reason, "Suguru, please stop. You're angry right now, we can talk about this later when we're all calm. It's not that big a deal."

Suguru laughs, the sound coming from the back of his throat, "Not a big deal? If it wasn't a big deal you wouldn't have tried to keep us from finding out you slept with each of us."

"Wait, she slept with you? When?" Satoru looks at you for confirmation.

You swallow and open your mouth to respond, but Suguru beats you to eat. His words are meant to sting, coming out harshly, the corners of his lips curving as he boasts about the first night of the trip, "Oh yeah, she did. The same night she broke up with your uncle at that. You know when you couldn't find us after showering, well we were outside and did it on the hammock before I fucked against a tree and shoved my dick down her throat. Our little friend is a huge fucking slut because apparently cause sleeping with one of her friends wasn't enou-"

You barely see it happening, one moment Suguru is grinning at the street, voice high and proud, the next the car is swerving into the opposite lane, Satoru's fist just having made contact with Suguru's jaw. The car veers back into the correct lane, pulling into the side where he breaks, your body jerking forward.

"You fucking piece of shit, you could've killed us!" Suguru roars.

"I don't give a damn, take back what you said, right now!"

"What that y/ns a sl-"

"Don't you dare say it again. Take it back or you're going to regret it!"

"What are you going to make me regret it? I want to see you try."

You watch the two of them get out of the car, doors slamming shut as they meet in the front of the car, pushing on each other's chests. You scramble to undo your seat belt, chasing after them. Your heart pounds against your ribs as you watch them start to tackle each other.

"Guys, stop it," Your voice starts low and shaky, the two of them almost bumping into you while they wrestle onto the ground. You follow them, your voice rising as you continue to repeat the same words, begging them to stop. All of your frustration and anger towards the newfound information of their agreement, from being cheated on, and the fact that everyone was keeping something from you, spilling over in one last shout, "I said fucking stop!"

The two of them stop, turning their heads to look at you. Suguru is straddling Satoru, the latter's shirt caught between his fists. Both covered in dirt from head to toe.

"You're both acting like children, scratch that children act better than this! So what if I slept with both of you? I'm free to do whatever I damn please!" you yell, tossing your hands around erratically. You feel very agitated, the blood in your veins burning with anger, "I'm not some object the two of you can fight over. I'm a living and breathing human. If I wanted to be treated like a doll who doesn't feel, or isn't aware of what is happening, I would have stayed back home with the piece of shit I used to call my boyfriend," by this time you have tears running down your cheeks. "I thought the two of you might have been different, but you're just like every other fucking piece of shit man on this damn planet. Fighting and having pissing contests when all you want to do is fuck each other. Oh, cause don't think no one notices the way the two of you look at each other or knows how the two of you have masturbated in the same room multiple times. We all just act like we don't know," you laugh extending your arms to the side, before dropping them down in defeat.

You bite the side of your cheek, fighting to keep the tears from spilling. The two men stare at you, guilt swirling in their chests, in Suguru's more than Satoru's. This entire trip had been one huge mistake.

"Please open the trunk," you

"Y/n -" Satoru starts.

"No stop, and open the trunk," you stand your ground, "I'll find a way to get back home."

They both stand, Suguru dusting himself off, while Satoru just looks at you with sad eyes. "Y/n you don't have to go that far, just finish the trip with us."

You seem hesitant, your eyes flickering between them and the closed trunk. With a heavy sigh, you look at both men, "Fine. But you have to tell me about this agreement and we're all going to start acting like adults." The two men nod, shoulders still tense, "Okay then let's finish getting to this beach and getting a hotel cause I'm already tired for the day."

The sun’s peeking over the horizon of the beach, hues of pink and blues decorating the sky when you make your way back from the beach. The air feels much cooler ear near the sea, the breeze coming from the sea cooling the area down for the night.

Glancing over your shoulder you were at the luxurious beachfront hut Suguru had reserved, not that you would call it that when it had electricity. The light pours out from the windows onto the sand along with the sounds of the two men arguing inside.

It had been like this since you arrived, Satoru and Suguru fighting when they thought you weren't anywhere nearby to hear them bickering. Satoru keeps trying to get Suguru to sincerely apologize to you, and Suguru keeps telling him that he doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to. The two men both fall silent the moment you come into view, a remorseful look washing over Suguru's face while Satoru looks at you with sympathy. It's the same looks they wear right now when you walk back into the small living area.

"Soo, do I need to sleep with the two of you at the same time to fix this mess?" You half-tease, leaning against the wooden entrance, breathing in the salty scent of the sea while you size both men up, "I'm pretty sure I could take you both."

Suguru jaw tenses and he exhales through his nose, "Y/n, don't even start. Be serious right now."

You push yourself up, stalking toward Satoru, "What? I am being serious. It's not like I haven't already seen what your both packing and if it's the only way to make the two of you stop arguing well...I don't mind." You tilt back to look at Satoru, putting your hand near his lower abdomen and gently pushing back onto the couch behind him before straddling his lap, the skirt of your dress extending around you.

Satoru looks up at you, swallowing down the fact that he's getting turned on by your sudden closeness, knowing that this is not truly the road you want to go down. Though you're seated on him your attention is on the man behind him, your eyes showing nothing but determination. He calls your name once to get your attention, large hands resting on your hips, "Y/n, please don't do anything you'll regret. This isn't what you really want."

You look down at him, swallowing down hard, and reach for one of his hands, pulling off your hips. "You sure?" You question, dragging his hand beneath your skirt, directing his long fingers to your bare cunt so he can feel your pussy getting wet.

"Fuck," he breathes under his breath, leaving his fingers playing with your folds when you let go and look back at Suguru who stays frozen in his spot. You keep eye contact while slowly grinding down on Satoru's fingers, moaning when he slides two fingers in and buries his head into your chest, nipping at the tops of your breasts.

You finally challenge Suguru when Satoru tugs the straps of your dress down, freeing your breasts, "You gonna stand there and watch?" Your eyes fly down to the tent in his swimming trunks, "Doesn't seem like that would be much fun."

Suguru visibly struggles, turmoil swimming in his dark eyes. You that even though he's angry with you right now for sleeping with both him and Satoru back to back, he also has a need for you both. You're not surprised when moves towards you, uttering under his breath, "Fucking hell, can't believe I'm actually doing this."

Grinning up at him, you rub the bulge he's sporting, holding him in your hand through his shorts, "You're fucking hard." He doesn't respond just looks down at you with lust dazed eyes, watching as you ride Satoru's fingers.

You tug the waistband of his pants down, listening to them drop down to the floor, his cock springing free. Not a moment is wasted, the moment it slaps against his stomach, your lips are wrapping around the head, easing it into your mouth. Suguru curses above you, his hand coming up to rest on the back of your head, pushing you down. The words he said the other night come to mind as you feel tears start to prick the corners of your eyes from taking too much too quickly.

"I think this time, I'll make you gag and cry all over my cock," he groans, using both hands to force himself to the very back of your throat, blocking the airflow and forcing you to breathe in through your nose.

It hurts and stings, the sounds of your gagging have Satoru's fingers stopping to look at you to make sure you're okay. If he goes off the lewd you face your making and the new slick that starts to drench his fingers, he'd say that choking on a cock was exactly what you wanted. And so he turns back to what he was doing, kissing along your neck and stretching your cunt out for him and Suguru to use, fingers easily sliding in and out with the slick your produce.

Suguru pulls you off his cock meanwhile, enjoying the view of the tears that decorate the corners of your eyes and the way your lips have gotten swollen. He takes pleasure in the way you're gasping for air, your expression already morphing into that of a fucked out face.

He takes his cock in his hand and rubs it along the curve of your lips, waiting for you to recover your breathing. "Did you like choking on my cock?" He asks, slapping the head on your mouth and cheek.

Your answer gets muffled when he moves forward, slapping the entire length of your face, the corners of your lips curving upwards. "Yes, I did. Oh god, right there, 'Toru."

Suguru scoffs when he hears his friends slip from your lips while his cock is on them, he peers down around to find Satoru has two fingers in your cunt, and his thumb in your ass. His eyes shift back to you, the moans you're letting out engraving themselves in his brain before he inserts his cock back into your throat, thrusting into it over and over.

Your cheeks hollow out, head starts to bob up and down in time with his thrusts, throat constricting around him, and moans vibrating along his shaft and up his spine. The sounds of your pussy and slurps from your mouth fill the small living space of the hut, anyway walking by wouldn't have to think much about what was happening just beyond the thin curtain that obscured their view.

Suguru feels himself twitch in your mouth, the coil in his belly tightening, about to snap. He pulls you off quickly, cursing under his breath while trying to keep his orgasm from washing over him, taking in the fucked expression you wear. It takes him a moment to recover his breathing, eyes squeezing shut, the moans you let out while Satoru fingers you louder. But when he's done, he's pulling off Satoru's lap, standing you up and pushing on your shoulders, "On your knees." Doing as your told, you drop on your knees in front of him, your eyes fluttering towards Satoru, watching him pull his shorts down and throw them somewhere. Long cock bobbing while he makes his way towards you, standing shoulder to shoulder with Suguru. Both their cocks are right in front of your face, Suguru's hand reaching to guide your hand to both, his voice is commanding when he speaks, "You said you could please us both, so do it using just this pretty small hand."

You swallow taking their in your hand, struggling to hold both of them as you slide them up and down. Your thumb brushes against Suguru's head, causing him to hiss and buck his hips. Salvia forms in your mouth as your watch pre-cum leak out of its slits, serving as a lubricant for your hand. Holding them like this you can see the clear difference in their sizes.

"You both have such pretty cocks," you praise, looking up, the sight above you sending an extra jolt of pleasure between your legs, arousal seeping from your cunt.

Both men are kissing, tongues tangling with one another while their teeth clash. Their hands on the other face while their lips move against one another, their hips rolling into your hand. You can hear the soft whimper Satoru lets out, his face and ears flushed red, excessive pre-cum coating your hand. You keep your eyes on them while leaning forward to lick it all up, their whines and groans sounding like music to your ears.

If anyone had told you that you would be watching your closest friends make out, that you would end up in a threesome with them, you would've sent that person to hell.

You feel both of them twitching in your hand, and you're almost scared to ask in case the scene above you disappears, "Are you both gonna cum?"

Suguru shakes his head, speaking between kisses, "Not yet...just need to fucking piss...'Toru too." His hand comes down to join yours in touching his friend's cock, his fingers concentrating on the head.

"Should we stop then?"

"No...just keep going," he replies glancing down at you from the corner of his eye.

You blink up at him, a newfound feeling forming in the pit of your belly when it clicks on exactly what he's planning to do. You continue to watch them kiss, your hand sliding up and down, while you occasionally take one of them into your lips, swirling your tongue on the tip.

Satoru is the first to start peeing, lucky for you your mouth is wrapped around Suguru's cock when he starts. The warm liquid hits your shoulder, surprising you. You quickly pull off Suguru, head turning to look at Satoru, his piss hitting the bottom of your chin, he apologizes to you, eyes squeezed shut while he ruts into your and Suguru's hands.

Suguru follows right after, his hand coming down to tear yours off his cock, so that he can get a better aim at your face. It's embarrassing the way heat pools between your legs while you get pissed on. Marked as theirs by the scent. They both come a moment after, their cum coating and mixing in with the liquid that drips down your body. The muscles of their thighs twitch.

"Fuck that felt good," Suguru moans, pushing a dazed Satoru towards the curtain that hides a single bed, reaching down to pull you up, leading you towards the same bed, "Ready for more?"

Satoru settles back on the bed and stretches out his arms to pull you into him, not minding the wetness. He presses a kiss to your temple and below your ear, whispering, "You did so good for us. You're such a good girl."

You smile against him, feeling the bed shift under Suguru's weight. His hands coming up your ass, spreading your cheeks apart, lathering your slick over your folds.

"Wanna share?" He asks Satoru, slipping one finger into your walls, watching the way your pussy reacts. Both men speak as if you aren't there.

"Aren't we already sharing?"

"Yeah, but I meant to you want to share the same hole?"

"Like that one time?"

"Yeah."

Suguru leans down, his chin resting on your shoulder, "What do you think, y/n? Think you can take us both in your pretty little pussy. Wanna feel us both stretching out your naughty hole?"

You stare at him, blinking, you never thought that something like that was possible. "Will they both fit?"

His fingers slide out, spreading your slick to your clit, "Yeah, we've done it before...most girls seem to like it."

"Yeah?" you ask, nuzzling closer to Satoru, your walls clenching around nothing.

"Yeah, some of them squirt, so who knows maybe you will too."

Swallowing down you nod your head, you still have reservations, but your curiosity of what it feels to have two cocks stretching you outweighs them, "Okay then, I think I'll try."

"Good girl."

"Fuck."

They position the heads of their cocks at your entrance, both slowly start to push into you, you whimper at the stretch, you don’t think it's a feeling you could ever really get used to. The stretch of just their tips has you wondering how you are going to fit both of them in one hole when you already felt so full.

You both let out groans as they push inch by inch, waiting for them to bottom out.

You can feel the tip of Satoru's cock brush against your cervix, whimpering into his neck when you feel him twitch against it, "Too deep."

Suguru curves his body over yours, one hand sliding down between your bodies to play with your clit and Satoru's balls, his lips brushing against the other man's lips, "You can take it."

It's the last thing he says to you before he starts rolling his hips into you, Satoru whimpering against his lips, overwhelmed by the drag of his friend's dick against his and your warm pussy walls.

Suguru's thrusts are rough, his pelvis slapping against the curve of your ass, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you in place. It's all too much for you and Satoru, your eyes and his rolling into the back of your head while your loud moans bounce off the walls of the room. Drool slips out the corners of your lips, landing on Satoru's tongue sticks out. You can feel them both twitching inside of you.

They release inside you at the same time, their semen mixing, painting your insides white. The same white that flashes behind your eyelids when you cum around them. An odd feeling washes over you, a feeling that is similar to when you pee,

"Fuck we really did make her squirt," you hear one of them say before everything turns black.

You're not out for long, but when you come back to, Satoru is on top of you, hard cock still inside of you. His hips jerking into you, strangled whimpers falling from his swollen lips. His blue eyes find yours, and he whines, rolling into you, "You're back, thought we lost you for a second." Another moan falling from his lips before you can answer.

You scrunch your eyebrows and peer over his shoulder. Suguru's head coming into view. You see his large hands holding Satoru's ass apart, his tongue lapping at his friend's hole. Lips wrapping around the muscle, loud slurping sounds reach your ears. Your cheeks burn at the sight, pussy clenching around Satoru's cock.

"Don't don't do that or am going to cum," he groans, his hand coming up to knead your breast.

The bed shifts again, Suguru's face popping up over Satoru's shoulder, "Morning sleepy head, I thought you'd miss the rest of the fun.

"What do you mean?" You croak.

"Just watch Satoru's face," Suguru tells you before disappearing from your view.

You turn to look at Satoru with a confused look, just in time to watch his jaw fall slack and a pained moan slip from his lips, his hips getting pushed into you, causing the same reaction to wash over you. You struggle to tear your gaze from Satoru's face and look back over his shoulder, watching Suguru push the head of his length into Satoru's ass.

You watch Satoru's face twist in pain and pleasure as Suguru pushes more of his length into Satoru. Moaning when he twitches in your cunt, his hips subtly rolling into you and back into Suguru. His eyelids flutter closed when he bottoms out, "Shit."

Suguru sets the pace, slowly at first, his hips barely separating from Satoru's ass, whose cock keeps twitching against your softness every time he rolls his hips into your hips. The rhythm steadily increases until there are soft palps of Suguru's ass meeting the curve of Satoru's ass, who is rutting into you, his hand coming down to stimulate your clit.

All three of you are moaning and whimpering. Lost in the pleasure that blankets your connected bodies. By the end of it all, you're all sweaty and tired. Both men fast asleep on either side of you before you even realize it's all over. Before you even realize the shift your relationship has taken

Everything will be different tomorrow. A bigger shift in your relationship with them that could either bring you apart or closer. But you can deal with all that's changed in the morning. Right now all you want is a good night's rest.

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bonezone44 · 3 months

Text

'Doesn't Nothing Ever Last Forever?' (18+)

Raider!Joel x afab!Reader

Word Count: 5,4k

(FYI: woman in moodboard is a side character.)

Summary: You worked in a brothel outside of a quarantine zone. Every once in a while, you got a visit from Joel and his men. This was your first time being around for one of those visits. (Reader is severely depressed and bisexual [relatable, amiright?]. Reader is not popular at the brothel.)

tags: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT (tagging this to be safe!) Kidnapping, sexual slavery, group sex, overstimulation, rough oral (m). POV switching, canon-typical violence. -- Sex between Reader and Joel is non-con. Reader enjoys it, but the larger context doesn't allow for consent. Fingering, unprotected p-in-v. Degradation. Finger-sucking. Spanking. Orgasm control/denial. Joel is turned on by Reader's history w/ women. Reader is called slut, good girl, bad girl. Reader calls Joel "sir."

A/N: Written for @iamasaddie's writing challenge. ✏ I was so excited by their moodboards, I had to participate. Also, read @toxicanonymity for the original Raider!Joel which heavily inspired this one. 🙏 And special thanks to @milla-frenchy for helping me choose a story line. 😘

story masterlist - main masterlist

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The days bled together, one right after the other. No matter how clear the skies were, a permanent fog had taken over your mind.

The only reason you woke up that evening was all the commotion. You heard the roar of diesel engines and loud men laughing and yelling. The slamming of car doors. Then those voices got louder and closer. Obviously, they had made their way inside your building. You knew you should rise and shine. Get to work. But you stayed curled up on your bed cushion in the shared room as long as possible. Even after your boss had been calling for you.

It wasn’t the kind of job you punched in and out of. You lived in a brothel. You were paid by the client–and even then sometimes all you got was a spare coin or two. A ration slip, if you were really lucky. But those could only be spent at the nearby Quarantine Zone. And the four hour trek there and back was hell on your feet and knees.

Your boss, Larry, finally opened the door to your room, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he allowed the noise and chaos to do the job of waking you up.

You unfurled from the floor and wandered to the bathrooms, bare fit sticking to the tile floors. You had hoped no one would catch you and make you work. You hadn’t had it in you to do anything that day. What you really wanted to do was float away, fly with the clouds on the wind to somewhere far, far over the rainbow.

You found Trisha at the sinks, under the sickly green lights, already washing cum from her hands.

“Joel and his crew are here again,” she mumbled. There was a tremor in her voice.

You nodded blankly. Tired.

She turned around and stared at you with wide eyes. “Joel,” she emphasized.

“Okay?” You shrugged. Your eyes bored into a growing mold stain in the corner.

She scoffed. “Joel is the guy who bought Carrie.”

“What?” … ‘Bought Carrie?’ That didn’t sound right to you. “I just thought… she left.”

Trisha stared at you, aghast. The room was cold, but steam began to fog the mirror. “Are you fucking kidding me? You were there!” She shouted. “You were there when Larry told us he sold her for the fucking water heater!” She pointed at the filling sink.

You blinked. “...Oh.” You wiped your eyes with your hands. “I don’t… really remember.” Her words didn’t quite click it into place for you, but a dull memory played in the back of your mind. You remembered a ‘house meeting’ and hearing Carrie’s name a lot. You remembered getting the water heater. You remembered everyone being upset and yelling at Larry. You remembered curling in the corner, your brain checking out and wandering through the static of your own mind rather than feeling something–anything–in your own body.

That explained all the weird looks you had gotten later when you expressed excitement over the hot water. You had been happy about something for once and everyone responded by staring at you like you were a freak.

But everyone you had ever met always felt so far away. Like you were so deep in the depths of your own mind that the world around you was a movie you were watching. All the people in your life were characters playing out their roles. So you did, too. You went through the daily motions, following some imaginary script in your mind. Playing a part. Doing whatever you thought you were supposed to.

Trisha started telling you more stories about Joel and his crew. About their violence. But none of it sounded real. It sounded like another movie to you. You stood, unmoving, wishing you had some bleach to clean the mold in the corner. You wanted to scrub the grout until it was pure again. Wipe away the layer of filmy mildew from the ceramic tiles. Disinfect every inch of porcelain in this piece of shit building.

Another woman entered the bathroom, fully nude. “Well, look who decided to show up!” she spat at you. “Go out there and do your job. I need a fucking break.”

You sighed and resigned yourself to your fate. “Okay,” you muttered without meeting her eyes. You didn’t bother looking in the mirror or worrying about your clothes. You knew that in your line of work, they didn’t make a difference either way.

You walked out to the main room and saw about a dozen men scattered around the couches, women in their laps or on their knees.

One woman was sitting naked in a guy’s lap while another guy roughly rubbed and slapped her clit. His laughter grossed you out. The woman was crying.

Another woman was getting facefucked and choking. She pulled back to cough and breathe. The man she was sucking on held himself in a tight grip. He pushed the hair from her face and whispered softly to her, wiping away her tears, before shoving his cock right back in.

You nodded at the scene unaffected… well, mostly unaffected. You stared into the middle distance and focused on no one person in particular. The women’s moans were mostly performative–it was obvious. But the men didn’t seem to mind. Their moans were hungry and horny, enjoying whatever stimulation they seemed to be receiving. So that was what you focused on. Their blatant sexual desire. It fueled your own heat. A fire expanding in your chest and between your legs. Your mouth began to water. You sucked in your bottom lip, eager to feel flesh inside you.

You weren’t sure how long you were standing there, watching. It merely occurred to you at some point that one of the men was walking up to you, blocking your view of the scene. He wore a dark brown leather jacket over a v-neck shirt. A small, shiny gold cross hung around his neck and against his sunburned skin. He wore blue jeans and work boots.

Your boss, Larry, yammered in one of your ears at him.

“Joel,” he pleaded with clasped hands. “I’m sure you’d prefer someone like Trisha or-or-or Cameron. I’m sure, she’ll be right back out any minute!”

“No,” Joel says gruffly. “Her,” he pointed to you with his chin.

“I’m sure. I’m sure.” Your boss chuckled uncomfortably and surrendered with empty palms. “Of course!” He grabbed you by the arm and tugged you toward the back of the building. He snarled in your ear. “Don’t fuck this up for me.”

You wanted to shrug him off, but his grip was bruising. What could you ‘fuck up’ exactly? You had been working there for over a year. You weren’t popular, but you got the job done. You didn’t get along with any of the other women there, but what did that have to do with this guy, Joel?

Larry took you and Joel to one of the farthest rooms. It was the nice one with a real bed instead of a mattress or cushion on the floor. You had never been in it before. Not even to clean it. You looked around appraising the paint on the walls. There was a window, but it was dark out. The noise from the main room was barely audible. You liked being somewhere quiet again.

#######

Joel and his crew pulled up around dinnertime in two pick-up trucks. The sun had set and the truck’s headlights bathed the front of the old office building in a warm, dull yellow.

The crickets were louder than hell that night. Joel remembered that much.

Not five seconds after his boys hopped out the trucks did the brothel owner come skittering out the front door with a nervous grin on his face.

Joel liked that. Piece o’ shit like that should be nervous.

Joel hated Larry. The man was fucking pathetic. Weasel-y. So needy and desperate to please. Joel hated that Larry sold him a woman for a water heater. What kinda man would do something like that? This was supposed to be a brothel. The women were supposed to be his employees. He didn’t have the right to sell anybody.

But Joel had wanted her. And taking her outright would have caused more problems than it would have solved. So he figured a water heater would help keep things peaceful between them. Because his boys liked the brothel. Each little trip helped ease their minds. Gave them something to talk about and look forward to–something other than survival.

Joel’s needs were more permanent. He needed something more full-time rather than once every few months.

His boys started hooting and hollering as soon as the payment of supplies were unloaded and they got to hang out inside. The women weren’t even around yet, but they were more than ready for some physical entertainment. Joel remained standing while the rest of them spread out along the decaying leather couches lining the walls. A shitty little cd player sat in the corner playing old R&B music. He heard his brother, Tommy, singing along to it.

Joel sighed and wiped his face with his hands.

Once Larry brought out a few women, the men started roaring. They were shouting and cheering, pulling their cocks out in excitement. Joel groaned. These boys didn’t know a goddamn thing about seducing a woman and their sad little dicks weren’t gonna get them anywhere neither.

Two of the guys grabbed one of the women, causing her to shout, but Joel was on them not a second later. He gripped their skulls, one in each of his giant hands, and knocked them together like coconut shells.

“Ouch! What the hell, man?” asked one of them, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

Joel shook his head with his eyes wide, boring into the depths of their souls. “Not until I say,” he spat.

They both tucked their heads under, murmuring. “Yes, Joel.” “Whatever you say, Joel.”

The woman got back in line while the boys sat down on the couch.

“I’m sure I’ve got a couple more on the way,” said Larry with a forced smile. “They’re just getting themselves cleaned up, I’m sure, after uh… after finishing dinner.”

Joel grunted. He knew what he wanted–knew what kind of woman he was looking for. And he was quick to realize that none of the women in the room were it. So he waved his hand and his men let loose.

Joel stood with his arms crossed and his back against the front door. He kept his eye on the two troublemakers. Kept his ear on Tommy. Tommy was a talker. He loved to chat up the working women as if he was in a bar back home in Texas and looking to find himself a girlfriend. Joel thought Tommy was being ridiculous—acting like the women could say ‘no’ and walk away. Like he had to put real effort in. It annoyed the hell out of Joel. He wanted his crew to have their fun and be done with it. Why did Tommy have to make it so complicated?

Joel was getting bored and antsy the longer he waited. He was feeling needy, too, with the rough sounds of sex filling the air around him. But he was hopeful, preferring to be patient. And if, in the end, there was no woman he wanted, he would pick one at random and blow off some steam. He would find a replacement some other time or start looking around at the nearest Quarantine Zone.

Then you walked in.

And at first, Joel was ready to shrug you off, too. Sure, you were attractive. But looks weren't everything. That's what got him in trouble with the last woman.

But something in your eyes changed as you scanned the room, taking in the sexual depravity. You didn't shrink in and shut down. You were turned on. He saw the way your chest rose and fell as your breaths shallowed and shortened. The way you chewed your bottom lip. The way you squirmed. That's what Joel needed. Someone as needy as him.

The brothel owner tried to dissuade him. Huh, Joel wanted to laugh. As if that asshole knew a goddamn thing about what Joel wanted–about what Joel needed.

“Take your clothes off ‘n get on the bed,” he ordered after slamming the door shut behind him. He liked how quickly you complied. He didn’t understand why you were so calm, though. He unbuckled his belt, releasing the pressure from his stomach and allowing himself some room to breathe. He let the buckle hang and it jingled as he stepped closer to the bed.

“All fours.”

Again, you complied swiftly and smoothly, facing the back wall.

He eyed you for any sores. Then he slipped his bare hand around the smooth curve of your ass and his fingertips prodded around your lips and entrance. You were already wet, he realized. He slid the edge of his fingers forward against your clit.

You moaned. Something fake and bland.

He pulled his hand away and slapped you on the ass. “Hey.” He grabbed you by the cheeks when you didn't immediately face him. Your eyes never met his. “Don't fuckin showboat me,” he warned.

“Okay,” you said flatly.

He didn’t like how detached you were. How unafraid. But he willed himself to be patient–the amount of wetness coating his fingers eased his anxiety. He continued to play with your folds as he asked questions.

He cleared his throat. “You like workin here?”

You shrugged. “It’s a job.”

“How long you been here?”

“About a year.”

Joel hummed. “I don’t remember you from last time.”

“Probably had the flu.”

“You got over it okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, closing your eyes. You seemed to like it when he moved his thick fingers around you real slow. He liked that.

“You got anything else? Any diseases?”

You shook your head. “I don’t get a lot of men.”

Joel paused. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. They like the other girls better.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrugged again. “They’re better at fakin it.”

Joel didn’t know how to feel about that answer. He continued to rub your clit, feeling you get slicker. “So what? You do handjobs, blowjobs?”

“Mostly.”

He noticed an uptick in the tone of your voice. “You like doin those?”

“If the guy is cute.”

He slid his fingers from your clit to your entrance to your other hole. He didn’t push in, only pressed against it, and you sighed. “What about this?” he asked, biting his lip. “You like gettin your ass played with?”

You hung your head and nodded. “If they do it right,” you said with another uptick in your tone.

Joel liked that. “Ever have a train run on ya?” He slid his fingers back to your clit.

“Yeah,” you answered with a whimper.

“You like it?”

Your breath hitched as Joel’s fingers sped up. “Been through worse.”

“Worse? Here?” Joel asked, wondering what could happen at a brothel that was worse than a gang-bang.

“No just… you know…” you sighed with pleasure. “--in general.”

Joel furrowed his brows. You were being honest with him. Too honest, in his opinion. But you were rolling your hips into his hand. And he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

He shoved two fingers inside of you without warning. Your body twitched and you moaned–and it was different this time. Quieter. Realer. Joel liked that. He didn’t mind taking his time to get you ready if he knew you would enjoy it.

“You like fuckin, huh?”

“Who doesn’t?” You snickered, pushing back into his thrusting hand.

Joel took a deep breath, maintaining his composure. But he knew then that he wanted you. That you were just what he needed and more.

#######

You liked this Joel guy. He took his time. He was asking you questions, trying to get to know you. You don’t remember the last time anyone had done that. …Well, maybe when you first started working there. Trisha and Carrie and a couple of the other women tried, but this felt different for some reason. Like it was leading somewhere. Like there was a promise at the end of it. Like maybe he really wanted to make you come and he wasn’t just there for himself.

And you liked his voice. It was smoky and deep. He had an accent like a cowboy. It was comforting, in a way.

And his fingers felt nice. He knew what he was doing. You couldn't remember the last time a guy got you that wet with just his hand.

Part of you felt a little hopeful. You thought you might finally get to have some fun like the other girls did. Most of the guys you got were ugly or just plain ol’ depressing. Another part of you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason. You’re not sure why she kept coming up in your mind. You two never worked together. You barely knew her at all.

“You ever fuck the other women here?” Joel asked.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in proud affirmation. It even pulled a smile from you.

“What's that mean?”

You weren’t sure how you expected him to react. You weren’t sure why you answered that way. “It means… yeah,” you replied while embarrassment burned your cheeks. You had barely looked at him before, but now you really didn’t want to see his face.

“Yeah, you like fuckin women?” His voice turned breathy. You heard his buckle jingle and the slide of the zipper of his jeans.

It turned you on to know that he liked that. Some men hated it. Made you feel like shit for it. But man, this Joel guy was something else. It made you want more of him. More of his fingers. His voice. His skin. “Yeah,” you moaned and shoved yourself harder into his hands, thrusting his fingers deeper.

“So what? You lick their pussies? Rub your little cunts together?”

Your mouth hung open from his words. “yeah,” you said with a hot breath. He pulled his fingers from inside of you and drew circles on your clit. You started whimpering. You nodded your head as fire burned in your core and across your skin.

“That’s why you work here, huh? You got a needy little cunt?”

His fingers were moving so fast, the muscles in your legs were jumping and your toes were curling. “Uh-huh,” you moaned loud enough for your voice to echo around the bare room.

“That why you left the Q-Z? This slutty hole wasn’t get fucked enough?” His fingers slid back inside your entrance. You’re not sure how many he stuffed in, but it was more than before.

You nodded with a desperate moan, your right leg slapping the mattress beneath you in frustration. You needed more. His fingers, his words–they weren’t enough. Your body was hot and sparking and you needed-needed-needed. “Joel, please,” you begged, turning to face him, finally opening your eyes again. He was stroking himself and the sight of his cock made you drool.

“Whatchu need, sweetheart?” He asked and you could almost kill him for it.

“Please, please fuck me, Joel. Please.”

“Need it that bad, huh?” He kicked off his boots and shoved his pants all the way down to the floor.

You got out of the way as he crawled into the bed and sat up against the headboard.

“Come and get this cock, you fuckin slut,” he growled. One hand held his length while the other pulled you by the arm.

You were too hungry to notice how tightly he gripped you. You hovered over his lap as he lined himself up with your entrance. You stared at the curve of his lips on the way down, the mix of gray and brown hairs in his mustache. But there was white on his cheeks and chin. You briefly wondered how old he was. But you couldn’t bring yourself to get a good look at his face. Too busy melting from the pressure of his cock stretching your walls. Fuck, it felt good. You braced yourself on his firm, wide shoulders and brought your hips back up a few inches before sinking down on his length even further. You groaned and tucked your head into his neck.

#######

You started sucking on his neck and his hips began to thrust up into you.

“It ain’t enough that I’m stuffin your cunt?” he grunted. “You need me in your mouth, too?”

You moaned against his throat, sending goosebumps all over his skin. “Yeah,” you said through panting breaths, before latching back on, teeth and tongue digging into his muscle.

Joel liked you. He really liked you. You were wet and riding him just right. You weren’t mechanical about it, neither–like Joel was just another job to you. There was a sadness to you, sure. It was probably why you didn’t get a lot of men. Men wanted to forget their troubles at the brothel. Have some fun. They wanted the world outside to disappear with their cock inside a woman.

But Joel had tried that. And it hadn’t worked out so good.

So this time, he looked for someone different. Someone who would understand. Someone who would get why he needed to fuck and when and how he needed to fuck, too.

And you were telling him everything he needed to know. He was learning what you wanted and what you liked and what he could use to threaten you into compliance.

He pulled you away from his neck, not sure how he felt about being covered in hickeys. “Here,” Joel prodded your lips with his middle and ring finger. “Suck on this, you greedy little slut.”

And you did, moaning desperately as you rolled your hips in his lap. You gagged as he slid his fingers back and forth on your tongue, saliva spilling from the edges of your lips and down your chin. Your eyes were closed and he knew there was nothing going on in your mind. He knew you were focused on nothing but how good he was making you feel.

You started bouncing on his cock and he slapped your ass with his free hand. He gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, forcing you to stop.

“Did I say you could do that?”

Your eyes popped open–meeting his directly. You tried to pull your head away to answer, but Joel shoved his fingers in even further.

He repeated himself. “You tryin to come right now? Did I say you could?”

You let out a pathetic whine and shook your head.

He slapped your ass again and this time he noticed your pussy clench around him. He heard a small moan grow and die in your throat. “You come when I fuckin say you can come,” he snarled with his teeth clenched. He smacked your asscheek again and thrust up into you.

You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut.

“That turn you on?” He gripped your ass in his hand. “You like takin’ your medicine, bad girl?”

You tried to turn your head, but Joel still had his fingers in your mouth and he held you in place. You looked at him with the most pathetic, pleading look.

“I asked you a question,” Joel growled with wide eyes. His cock twitched inside of you. “You like takin’ your medicine? You like bein told what to do?”

You squeezed your eyes shut again and quietly nodded.

Joel liked that. He liked that a lot. He took his fingers from your mouth and gripped your cheeks. Your eyes popped open again. He licked his lips. “You be a good girl and make me come first, then we’ll see what you get, okay?”

You nodded.

“Now what do you say?”

Your brows furrowed.

“When I tell you what to do, what do you say?”

Your face softened. You blinked slowly before answering. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s right.” Joel grunted and thrusted his hips. “Now, make me come, you little slut.” His fingers dug into your own hips to guide your rhythm to what he wanted. “Make me come and we’ll see what you get.”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir,” you murmured again and again.

Your warm, wet cunt sucked him in and stroked him. He could hear it, too, how drippy and turned on you were. It wasn’t long before he tossed you off him with a grunt, throwing you onto your back on the bed. He only fisted his cock twice before shooting his spend on your spread open pussy, on the hair on your mound. He wiped his cum down and around on your clit. “Come on, girl. You can come now. Come on,” he chanted. He rubbed your clit back and forth with the flat of his four fingers. “Give that greedy little cunt what it needs. Come on.”

Your body curled in as you orgasmed and you moaned loudly into your arm. Joel didn’t see the need for you to be quiet, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He rubbed you with his thumb until your legs clasped shut and you squirmed away.

He wiped his hands on the sheets and got up from the bed. He pulled his jeans back on, but waited to buckle his belt. He sat back down and put his shoes on.

You were still lying where he left you. Curled up in the fetal position. It almost looked like you were falling asleep. He figured you might as well rest up now. The drive back home was a bumpy one.

He sighed when he stood up. He figured he should get the liquor bottles out of the truck sooner than later. He huffed. Larry was a real piece of shit for trading a woman for liquor. But Joel wanted you. And he was gonna have you.

#######

You were reeling. Sexually, you were satisfied, but every other emotion bursted and channeled itself through your muscles and across your skin. You felt so vulnerable. This man had seen you–seen you! Like you were a real person or something! Like you weren’t just a ghost or a character in a movie! Everything felt wrong and you couldn’t figure out why. And you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason.

You stayed as still as possible until you heard Joel’s booted footsteps leave the room. You were grateful he didn’t say anything or try to touch you again. Your body trembled as you got out of the bed. You walked on shaky legs to the bathrooms to clean yourself. The world around you was so close and too clear. You could hear and differentiate everyone’s voices in the main room. The air was humid and you could taste it–actually taste it like it was a wet, moldy cloud in your mouth.

Your hands tremored. You tried to exert control over them, but you were barely able to turn on the sink. You mostly swatted at the faucets until water came out. And there was no comfort to be had in the warm, rushing water. You noticed tension in your cheeks and thought you wanted to cry, but couldn’t make any tears come out.

The woman in the mirror scared you. It was you. You knew it was you. But she felt unfamiliar. Three dimensional. You wanted to run. Run away to the Quarantine Zone or—or anywhere but here.

Then you heard screaming, shrill screams from what had to be one of the other women. Suddenly you were being dragged out of the bathroom. Trisha’s hands were on you. Her fingers were small and thin and her skin was smooth and cold. You had never noticed before.

The lights in the main room were so bright that you could see everything. Every small piece of leather that had flaked off each of the couches and landed on the dirty, carpeted floor. The carpet itself was covered in dust and dirt and leaves. Where did the leaves come from? you wondered. How did they get tracked inside? Weren’t people wiping their shoes like they were supposed to?

There were people moving around. Naked. Half-naked. Clothed. All talking over each other. And blood. Bright red blood. One of the women, with long gold hair, was covered in it, shrieking in pain with both her hands on her hip. Two others guided her past you towards the back. One of Joel’s men was apologizing to Larry. He had black curly hair and a thick mustache. Larry was screaming in his face.

You saw Joel from the back as he pushed himself up from the couch. His shoulder rose and fell with deep, heaving breaths. There was blood dripping from his fist and there was someone beneath him. Once he stepped away, you saw an oblong fleshy ball of bright red where a face should have been. The body beneath the ball didn’t move.

You folded in half and started heaving. Trisha shrieked in your ear.

“I’m so sick of you assholes coming here and-and-and-and–” Larry was caught in a loop as he pulled his gun from his pocket. It was a small revolver. You watched his gray-skinned thumb pull back the hammer. “I’m sure! I’m sure!” he yelled over the shouting.

The man with the black curly hair lunged at Larry with a curse.

The gun-shot stilled everyone in the room. It was loud enough that for a moment, you thought you had been shot. The vibrations pierced you to the very center of your being. But then… Larry was on the floor. Sprinkled with dust from the ceiling tile. And then there was more blood. Bright red blood spilling out from his body.

You breathed in relief. Not only that you were still alive, but that it was Larry that was dead. For a few beautiful seconds, you felt free. Free from his bullshit and free from the brothel. Free to go back to the quarantine zone and start over again.

Trisha’s smooth fingers pulled one of your arms, but something warm and calloused pulled your other. You looked up, confused. It was Joel. Joel’s hand, which had been on you only minutes previous, felt so strange and unfamiliar. You had just shared a bed with him but–that had been a different man. Certainly different than the one that stood before you now with blood-splattered on his clothes and sweat beading around his temples.

“You can’t take her!” Trisha cried, tears pouring out her eyes. “You can’t take her!”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he said. Joel’s eyes looked sad. “She’s mine now.”

Terror fell over you like a cold, biting wind. He was talking about you.

Your body started trembling again. You tried and failed to pull your arm away from his grip. “NO!” You shouted. Your vision went blurry as you sobbed. “Don’t take me! Please!” That was why you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie. Joel had bought Carrie. Trisha had told you that Joel had bought Carrie. But the information hadn’t clicked into place. You had spent so long avoiding your body, avoiding feeling any emotion at all that when it spent all night trying to warn you, you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t feel the siren in your gut telling you to stay away from Joel. And now that siren was loud and clear. But it was far too late for you to do anything about it. “Don’t take me! Pleasepleaseplease!”

Joel didn’t budge. He leaned in real close to you. “Now you told me you like bein told what to do.” Your face went fiery hot with shame. He yanked your arm, pulling you from Tasha’s grip. “And right now, I’m tellin you that you’re comin with me.” He continued to pull you out the front door, towards his truck.

“No! Nonono!” You cried. You tried one more time to shake him off, but it was pointless. He was too strong. You were too weak. And you started to wonder if you could have prevented this or if it was simply your fate. Your own boss hadn’t been able to say ‘no’ to these men. What could someone like you have done?

You sobbed into your hands as you sat in the truck. The man with the black curly hair got in the driver’s seat. Joel sat on the other side of you and rubbed your back in some sick attempt at comfort. “You be good for me–” he said, adjusting himself. “--then we’ll see what you get.”

+++++

a/n: Please let me know if I missed a tag. Also, idk if it's really a DDDNE story or not. ??

story title taken from the song "Mary the Ice Cube" by Primus.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #✏️ game #✏ game club

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daytaker · 2 months

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The Gang's Tumblr Pages

Inspired by this and my own reaction to it.

Lucifer

Perfectly curated, perfectly formatted, and whenever there's a major change to the tumblr format, he simply leaves the website altogether in a huff of peacock feathers.

Lots of HD photography of nature getting reblogged.

Has an extremely complicated and specific list of tags he uses for every single post.

He only reblogs text posts that are sufficiently visually appealing. Very few meet his high standards.

You could look through his entire blog and not learn one single thing about him except that he's a perfectionist to the point of neurosis.

He has a lot of professional art blogs following him.

Mammon

Oversharing oversharing oversharing!!!!

He regularly gets himself in trouble by shouting about the shit he's done into the void of the internet.

Tried to have a tagging system but forgets about 7/10 times.

Reblogs himself all the time to say "AND ANOTHER THING!!!"

He hates looking at the actual blog pages. The text is always so tiny and some of them start playing music and changing his mouse into a weird shape? No thank you.

He has very few followers and he doesn't really care. Who goes on tumblr for the social element? Weirdos, that's who.

He's insanely easy to troll with anonymous asks. Everyone has done it. Even Lucifer, though he wouldn't admit it.

Some of his best asks:

"did u just post that you're okay with the idea of ponies and unicorns breeding. like no shade on that conceptually but why."

"If you reblog another 'reblog this for good luck' post, I will personally break down your door and steal your skin."

"ur ugly" "yeah-huh" "ugly" "no i won't 'come off anon and fight u' whhy don't you come ON anon and fight me?" "'i don't know how' sounds like something a chicken would say"

Leviathan

He just makes a blog like one of us. Fandom stuff.

Except he's multifandom to the extreme. It's impossible to keep track of his interests because he always has so many simultaneously.

He has the most followers of the brothers just because he gets so deep into so many fandoms that they come rolling in.

He has blocked all of his brothers except for the twins. They're okay.

His blog is a chaotic mess but there is order within the madness. He has a masterpost of tags that explains everything if you care to look at it. (I don't recommend it.)

Satan

It feels stupid to even put this in writing but...cat pics. Endless cat pics. That's like 90% of his blog.

The other 10% is a mixture of book recommendations and analysis, Lucifer shade, and a comprehensive, ever-expanding list of shit Lucifer has done to make Satan angry. It's a very long list. It's organized by theme.

"Lucifer inflicts unjust punishments." "Lucifer makes unnecessary snide remarks." "Lucifer simping for Diavolo and MC (pathetic)."

His blog itself is very minimalist and clean.

He's another fastidious tagger. He tags the cat pics by color, breed, age, number of cats, setting...

Asmodeus

He's not very into tumblr. It's like Devilgram but more complicated and less popular.

Sometimes he'll post or reblog 'aesthetic' things. Moodboards and the like.

In general though, he doesn't really 'get' tumblr.

People don't post selfies very often. Weird.

Beelzebub

Food blog.

Just food.

Reblogging hot dogs.

Reblogging nachos.

Reblogging ice cream.

Nothing else. Ever.

Belphegor

"This minimalist Tumblr has no posts."

No posts.

Default profile picture.

Sometimes he'll like something.

Usually he just looks at it.

Diavolo

There is no order. Only chaos.

He hardly ever uses it, then he'll come online and reblog a million things that have nothing to do with each other. Then he'll go silent again.

He has no tagging system.

He has no custom theme.

He is very friendly to all anonymous askers though.

Barbatos

Barbatos would never have a tumblr. Don't be ridiculous.

Solomon

He only posts very rarely. He prefers to lurk.

When he does post, it's something weird as fuck, like reblogging statistics about owl pellet contents.

He likes to keep people on their toes.

Simeon

Reblogging inspirational quotes, pictures of nature, and general positivity.

That is, once he figures out how the website works.

That takes a really long time.

What is a queue? What are tags? Why is it called a "reblog"? How does he track activity? How does he navigate the homepage? Why does it post things in such a strange order? What is a "Blaze"? What is a draft? Custom URL? Custom Theme? Sideblogs? Mass Post Editor?

Someone please help him.

Solomon probably does that.

Luke

Baking.

He uses tumblr for recipes and images of baked goods.

But tumblr isn't even the best place to go for that, so he isn't on very often.

He sometimes likes Simeon's posts, just as a show of support since he knows how hard Simeon works to post anything anywhere.

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aestheticaltcow · 1 month

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The Social Media Manager: The Series (Part 2)

Another installment of the social media manager series

Another shout out to @thebearsoc for the inspiration!

The Moodboard/OG blurb

Part 1 Introductions and Donuts

Meetings, Meetings, Meetings

“Wait, wait, wait-” Richie started rubbing a hand against the back of his head, “You’re tellin’ me, Marcus’s party girl 20-somethin’ year old friend is getting access to our social media? That’s bull, and you know it, Natalie.”

Natalie rolled her eyes and glanced in Marcus’s direction, “Marcus, Rusty has done this before, right?” he nodded before explaining, “Nat, Richie, I’m tellin’ ya’, Rusty is really good at this shit. Just give her a shot.”

Carmy entered the sitting area of The Bear and sat next to Natalie without saying anything, “I don’t think we can afford this, Marcus. I’m sure Rusty is a wonderful social media manager, but the budgets tight.” Natalie sighed, staring at her computer screen.

“That's the thing- you guys have a hookup.” Marcus grinned, hoping that this would be enough of a selling point. “Rusty owes me one. She’d probably do the setup for free, and I can do all the posting. She helped me redo my account when I came back from Cophegan- I went from like 100 followers to like 1,000 in a month.”

Carmy looked around the group before nodding in Marcus’s direction, “Call her.”

Carmy stood up and walked out of the dining area through the kitchen and into the office, where his phone had been plugged in to charge. He quickly opened his phone, went to the seldomly used Instagram app, typed in your handle, and smiled as your account came up. He’d been Instagram stalking you since he’d heard Marcus giving Syd your handle. She’d laughed about it being a reference to a K-pop group he’d never heard of; granted, he’d never really listened to any of those groups. So far, he’d learned that you have an eclectic taste in music, an affinity for putting googly eyes on potted plants, a love for fancy coffees with overpriced pastries, and had, in fact, known Marcus since high school. He liked your style. There was something free about it; he admired your creativity. Carmy took notes about you through the account. Your highlight reels being indicative of your personality, the ‘Rusty cooking??’ highlight reel was particularly traumatizing. He wondered how you’d gotten into your 20s without knowing how to actually chop an onion, but he could show you how to do it properly; just the idea of that made his heart flutter. Carmy was incredibly attracted to you, but when you’d posted a boomerang of you kissing a guy’s cheek and tagged the guy’s account with a heart emoji, he was worried this would be another unrequited crush.

When you walked into The Bear the next day in a pair of trousers with your hair up and a pair of glasses perched on your nose, Carmy felt like his heart was going to explode. He beelined for the bathroom to make sure he didn’t have anything in his teeth and washed his hands in an attempt to get the smell of cigarettes off his hands before going to talk to you.

“So that’s what I would recommend doing for TikTok. The algorithm is tricky, but once you get on its good side, it can be really great publicity.” Carmy swallowed as he listened to you explain your strategy to Natalie and Richie. Natalie seemed impressed, while Richie seemed wary. “This is all really great Rusty. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.” Natalie smiled as she shuffled a pile of documents into a yellow folder. You shrugged and responded with a playful laugh before explaining that work had been slow at the moment, so you had some extra free time to take a peak at the analytics you could see without access to the account details.

After Richie and Natalie said their goodbyes, Richie was still seemingly cold toward hiring a social media manager and you in general. The two of them discussed it as they walked toward the kitchen. Carmy waited until they had walked through the kitchen door before approaching you. If he struck out with you he’d prefer not to do it within earshot of his sister and Richie; he’d never live it down. “Hey.” Carmy greeted awkwardly, rocking on his heels.

You smiled back, “Hey you. Long time no see.” Carmy blushed at your flirtatious tone. “How you doin’ Carmy? Spendin’ a lot of time on Instagram, huh?”

Carmy needed some clarification on the comment. You noticed and giggled before explaining, “You liked a picture on my account from like two years ago.” Carmy tightly grinned out of embarrassment. He hesitantly nodded, “Uh yeah—Marcus recommended you do our social media stuff… I just wanted to check out what you post.”

He hoped he saved himself, but self-doubt was taking over. He watched as you began twirling a strand of hair on your index finger. “It’s okay, Carmy. I think you’re cute, and I’m going out on Friday with a couple of friends… if you happen to show up at this bar across town called The White Rabbit, I might let you buy me a drink.”

Carmy was speechless. He was by no means an experienced dater, and within that limited experience, he’d never had a girl come onto him like this. You noticed his awkwardness and found it endearing. “No pressure. You can also just call me sometime.”

You pulled a Sharpie out of your bag and grabbed Carmy’s wrist to write your number across his forearm, “Bye, Carmy.” you winked before walking past him, making sure he’d get a whiff of your perfume.

“B-bye Rus-sty.” Carmy managed to stutter out as he watched you walk out of the front entrance. He pushed the heel of his hand against his jaw. You were different, and it scared him, but also found it enchanting.

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear fic #marcus the bear #natalie the bear #richie jerimovich #sydney the bear

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comphy-and-cozy · 2 months

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GASLIGHT - andrei svechnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov x Reader (f)

Summary: A dance of desperation, destruction, and desire with the man who broke your heart.

Word Count: 5.4K

Author’s Note: This is about a year in the making thanks to the thirsty, depraved minds of @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech. Inspired strongly by gaslight by inji, I present to you: toxic, cocky ex Andrei.

Warnings: Toxic relationship, dubcon/drunk consent, infidelity. Alcohol use/mention. Smut (18+ ONLY): Unprotected sex, very public sex/exhibitionism, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), heavy degradation, Andrei has a filthy mouth.

Your media consumption is your responsibility. Do not proceed if any of the above warnings will trigger, hurt, or offend you. Masterlist / Moodboard

In all fairness, you knew Andrei Svechnikov was trouble as soon as your eyes locked with his at that fateful frat party, bathed in a deep blue light strobing on the ceiling. Even then, it was etched into his handsome face, his smile far too confident to be anything but a terrible, terrible idea. But you were young, dumb, and all too willing to fall for the broad Russian with the dimples and a body that looked like it was sculpted out of clay. He was way too hot to resist, and really, what’s a girl to do?

In all honesty, he was sweet at first, even genuine. He held the door open for you, walked you to class, let you wear his jersey. He swept you off your feet with an ease that should’ve had your radar beeping, but you were already in too deep to notice. Besides, you had no reason to believe that the handsome, charming boy with a toothy smile would be anything but wonderful.

Oh, how wrong you were.

When you look back on the chapter of your life regretfully titled ‘Andrei’, the pages stained with tears and spilled ink from all of the letters you never sent, you’ll remember the red flags that you didn’t notice (or maybe willfully ignored), heading straight into a myriad of heartbreak. You two were toxic together, in a seemingly endless cycle of hurt and betrayal.

But it was hands down, unequivocally, the best sex you’ve ever had.

And that’s what kept you coming back, even when he’d pull his shit and make his excuses for the hickeys on his neck that you didn’t put there or the purple thong on his floor that was a size too small for you. You’d turn a blind eye, pretending not to see, pretending that it didn’t sting after the sweet nothings he’d whisper to you after a night in his sheets.

The real turning point of your relationship was when you saw him leaving your sorority house the morning after a night out, a clear walk of shame—except you’d gone to bed alone. Seeing the bedhead and hickeys on your sorority sister, Callie, was all you needed to put the pieces together, your heart shattering for the first time.

So, after crying until you made yourself sick, drinking more tequila than you’d care to admit, you brushed yourself off, rose from the ashes, and did what any logical and sane girl would do in your shoes: fuck his teammate. And then another. And another. You took your rage and all of the hurt that simmered beneath your surface and channeled it into sweet, satisfying, addicting revenge. The orgasms weren’t quite the same, but you were surprised at how good getting even felt. Seeing the look on his face when he’d come down the stairs to find you in the kitchen, in a ratty old t-shirt of one of his friends… priceless.

From then on, you and Andrei were locked in what felt like an eternal battle at who could out-toxic the other. You thrived on knowing you were riling him up, getting under his skin, burrowing your way into his psyche to ensure he’d never forget you and would forever regret betraying you. You were the one who got away, not the other way around.

From the moment you stepped into the bar that fateful night, instantly feeling his eyes crawling over your legs, you couldn’t deny that you had voluntarily set yourself up for it. Unable to resist his charm, dripping in honey, trouble etched into the predatory gaze he held on you, there was no way you were getting out unscathed.

His white button-up is a size too small, hugging his muscles in a way that makes the fabric fight against the buttons in the middle. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the corded muscle of his forearms on display, the expensive watch sitting on his thick wrist. He wears it everywhere he goes, so you know he couldn’t have done it on purpose, but you can’t help but feel he knew you’d be there tonight, exposing it with the sole intention of driving you wild.

So, it’s only to be expected that you make your way over to a friend of his, slinking up beside him at the bar with a seductive smile and wide eyes, leaning into him and letting your hand rest on his bicep while you laugh at his joke. It feels over the top—because it is—but you’re fueled by the knowledge that Andrei will be fuming once he sees it. It’s the same old cat-and-mouse game that you always play, pushing his buttons even from afar.

It makes for the best foreplay.

Your new beau—Scott—struts off to the bar, smug at how easy his win tonight is. He barely had to work to have you hanging all over him, and the prospect of getting you into his bed at the end of the night is all but a slam dunk. Your eyes watch him, appreciatively admiring the broad shoulders and built back, envisioning what it’ll look like littered with angry, red scratches from your pristine, hot pink nails.

He saunters up behind you, and you feel his presence without even needing to turn around.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His words, heavily accented, are slurred—just slightly, but enough for you to know he’s been heavy on the vodka tonics. Part of you wonders if your antics with Scott have influenced his state of mind. Judging by the way his arms are crossed, revealing the curve of his enormous bicep and the thickness of his forearms, you’d wager that they have.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Andrei,” you say, tossing your hair back, dismissing him instantly.

“Cut the shit, sweetheart,” he sneers. His eyes drag shamelessly over your figure, heat lingering where his gaze travels. “That’s the third one of my teammates you’ve tried to fuck.”

“Fourth, actually.”

“Do you actually want them, or are you just whoring around my friends to get a rise out of me?”

“That’s rich,” you scoff, voice dripping with distaste. The absolute nerve on this guy. “Can’t handle the thought of your friend fucking me better than you?”

Andrei’s smile is sickly sweet. “We both know that was never the issue, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. Memories of late nights punctured by a thick Russian accent, bite marks that turned into bruises that lasted for days flood your mind, a phantom touch along your hip making your shiver.

“Where's your new bitch?” you pivot. “Let me guess, busy taking your Insta pics?”

His smirk grows, enough to reveal his missing tooth. The mockery in his tone drips from every word as he says, “That’s no way to talk about your sister.”

You bite back your grimace and the urge to say, “That’s not my sister,” but unfortunately he’s picked up your strategy of ticking off your friends on his bedpost one by one, and this latest iteration has landed him in bed with your suitemate, Jenna. When she broke up with her long-term boyfriend, you knew it was only a matter of time before Andrei swooped in with his handsome smile, dimples, and delicious muscles, sisterhood be damned. The fact that you two shared a wall was only the cherry on top.

With a glance at the bar, you see that Scott is stuck in line, your 3rd Mezcal margarita too far away. He sends you an apologetic shrug, gesturing to the growing crowd and signaling to wait for him. Your lips curl into a forced smile, blowing a kiss and offering a cheeky wave.

Andrei shifts on his feet, amused at the overzealous act that his idiotic linemate seems to be buying. With another glance across your figure, doing far more than just undressing you with his eyes, he sidles back up to you. With the way you look, he supposes he shouldn’t expect to resist.

“Seems like your man is gonna be a while. Dance with me?” he whispers into your ear. You ignore the way the heat from his breath travels down your spine, arousal instantly pooling through you despite every nerve in your body trying to fight it.

“I’m not your girlfriend, Andrei.”

“Doesn’t mean two old friends can’t have a dance,” he counters.

You resist the urge to snort at the label, as if you were ever friends. It’s the same look in his eye as always, the one that got your heart broken a thousand times before, but you find your hand slipping into his—ignoring the sheer size of it compared to yours—and letting him lead you into the throng of people anyways.

The way Andrei’s firm body slots up behind yours is far too easy, his hands all too familiar on your hips as he pulls you into him, forcing a slow and steady grind to the beat of the music. It should be shocking the way that Jenna—and Scott—completely slips from your mind, replaced by the feeling of his groin pressed against the curve of your ass.

“Look so fucking hot tonight,” he purrs in your ear. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, but your body reacts involuntarily when his praise goes straight between your legs. “Made my dick hard just looking at you.”

“Wouldn’t want your girl hearing you talk like that,” you manage to retort, shaking away the arousal that threatens to warm your entire body.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“That what you said about me?” you ask, ignoring the pang of hurt that strikes your heart. It’s the first—and only—glimpse of a real emotion, hidden beneath snark and quick remarks.

“Aw, baby, let’s let the past stay in the past,” Andrei says, deflecting by pressing your ass against his groin, allowing you to feel the firmness beneath his zipper. The flash of any serious conversation disappears when the tips of his fingers graze against the underside of your breast, fostering the spread of goosebumps over your body. It’s a diversion, and you hate that it works; his hands have always been a source of weakness for you.

Heat simmers in your core, gradually growing until it’s bubbling; his hands crawling over your body while your hips move in sync with his. The chance of rekindling whatever you had before is long gone, and you’re well past any apology or reparation, so you might as well have fun with it, right?

His hands trail fire down your sides, over the bare skin between your top and skirt, to your bare leg. You’ve lost the ability to speak, to protest—not that you would—when you feel his fingers curl under the hem, tugging it up until you're all but entirely exposed, challenging you to resist. The air, though warm from the crowd, feels heavenly on your hot thighs, cool against the damp fabric of your panties. Your body gives an involuntary shiver when one large hand splays possessively over your hip, the other creeping over to the inside of your thigh.

You know what Andrei’s up to, and as much as you hate him, there’s not a single ounce in your body that wants to stop him. Your legs fall open against your will, making more space for his hand.

“Fucking soaked,” he sneers, laughing at the way you shudder when his finger barely grazes your clit, pressing against the wet scrap of fabric covering your modesty. “Knew you would be. You can never get enough of me, can you?”

Refusing to give in so easily, you reply by slowing the roll of your hips, pressing further against his groin to grind against him. His chuckle is low in your ear, amused at your attempt to keep the playing field even. The pad of his middle finger runs over your pussy, collecting the wetness that’s seeping through the cotton.

Andrei’s hand stays gripped on your thigh while the other comes up to press his finger against your lips. You can taste your own essence on the tip of his finger, coating your lip with the moisture. It presses into your mouth, pushing against your tongue in a display of dominance; though you want to push him away, your body betrays you and your lips close around his digit, sucking hard.

The sound of your moan when he roughly tugs your panties to the side is covered by the heavy bass pumping through the room. The lights are dim enough, strobing around to hide the way Andrei plunges a thick finger into you, though admittedly you wouldn’t notice or care if someone were to spot you, the thought making you even hotter.

“Always so fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs in your ear, shifting his hand to add another finger. “Dripping all over my hand like a fucking whore.”

“Andrei,” you whisper, fruitlessly, the sound of your voice swallowed by the electronic wobs of the remixed rap song overhead. Your resolve is slipping quickly, with each deep twist of his fingers inside of you, knees losing strength with every passing moment. Maybe it’s the cocktail, or maybe it’s just him; either way, you’re intoxicated.

His marriage and middle pump their way into you, the slick between your thighs making it all too easy for him to slide them in and out. Your eyes flutter shut, head lolling back slightly when he strokes you perfectly, even despite the awkward angle of his wrist, shoved between your legs in the middle of a sweaty, crowded room. So far, no one’s seemed to notice—or perhaps, if they did, they just opted to ignore it.

“Fuck, kisa,” he murmurs, and the heat in his voice makes you clench around his digits. It’s rough, deep in your ear, followed by what you presume is cursing in Russian. Andrei grips your hips so tightly you’re certain there’ll be fingerprint-sized bruises on them tomorrow. “Such a desperate whore for me, you’d let me take you right here in front of everyone, wouldn’t you?”

His finger presses against your g-spot in a way that has your resolve completely melting; suddenly, all you can focus on is the feeling that’s blooming in your core, flooding pleasure through your veins. Fuck it.

“Fuck yeah, give it to me.”

You’re not really serious, at least not entirely, but your stomach flutters with excitement when you feel one of his hands fidgeting behind your ass, fishing out his erection to press it against you. He’s hard, and you can feel the way he throbs against you through the thin material of your skirt. Admittedly, you had missed that specific part of him. No one, not even his linemate Scott with the big dick, could replicate Andrei.

“This what you want, huh? Want it deep in that little cunt?” he says, tapping himself lightly against your ass in the limited space he has between your bodies. “Guess my dick doesn’t know how much of a bitch you are.”

“Probably because your dick has been inside way bigger bitches than me,” you bite back, the throb between your legs not enough to cull the sass and bitterness that lingers just beneath the surface. If his fingers weren’t just buried between your thighs, you probably would’ve had more to say about the matter.

When you feel the curl of his fingers tugging the material of your skirt up farther, you arch into him, your senses ablaze with adrenaline. You can’t help it, giving into the way you throb, empty, waiting for him to soothe the need with the harsh thrust of his cock.

Andrei is slow, drawing out your torture. He keeps his hips pressed against your backside, shielding his erection with your ass, because you are still in public, after all. His large hand grips your hip while the other reaches between your bodies, and you let out a whimper when you feel his tip lining up with your entrance.

He pushes in, slowly, mainly to avoid attracting attention. His hands flex against your waist, pulling you into him and encouraging you to resume the grind of your hips; only this time, his dick is buried deep inside of you and he’s pressed directly against your g-spot. He hasn’t been inside you for 5 seconds and your legs are already shaking, trying desperately to steady your breathing while heat floods through your body.

Even through the loud music, you can hear the way Andrei grunts lowly in your ear, and you’re pleased to know he’s just as strung out as you, fucking you in the middle of a dance floor. His hips begin to push forward, subtly, forcing you to feel each inch and ridge of his cock dragging in and out of your soaked pussy. Large hands crawl over your hips, guiding them to gyrate against him and using your body to drive himself deeper inside of you.

It shouldn’t feel so good, getting blatantly fucked by your sworn enemy in the middle of a sweaty crowd, grinding shamelessly on his dick. But the beat syncs with his thrusts, heat flooding your system as he hits the perfect spot at the perfect pace to have your legs squeezing tightly around him.

“You been thinkin’ about this?” he whispers in your ear, and you can hear the smug smirk on his face. “Think about you while I’m fucking Jenna sometimes. She’s hot, but her cunt isn’t as tight as this one.”

“You’re—” you gasp when he delivers a hard thrust at the beat drop of the song that’s playing, “—such a fucking dick.”

“Aw, but you love it, don’t you?”

You hate him. Him and everything that he’s done to you—breaking your heart, picking up the pieces, only to shatter it again. There had been more nights spent crying over him than nights with him, screaming into your pillow until there were no tears left in your body. Worse than that, he’d turned you into someone you barely knew: someone who takes the low road and stoops to his level when you know you deserve better than all of it.

But damn, if you don’t love the way he fucks you.

It happens before you even have a chance to think about how you’ll mask it, instead crying out as your body goes limp against Andrei’s. His strong arms hold you in place, stilling his hips to feel the way your cunt clenches around him as your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami. The sound of your moan is swallowed by the bass, evaporating into thin air before it has the chance to make its way to any of the club’s patrons around you.

“Fuck,” Andrei husks in your ear, breath heavy against your skin. Your walls flutter around him as he lets the waves siphon through your shaking limbs. “Barely had to do any work for you to fall apart on my cock, huh? Comin’ for me like the pretty little slut you are.”

The retort you want to snap back doesn’t come out, mind still completely blown from the force of your climax. Your heart pounds in your throat, pussy clenching weakly around his thick cock, and you know you have no space to try and pretend he didn’t feel the way you came all over it.

“You gonna give me another one, dorogoy?”

“Drei,” you choke out, a wave of clarity splashing over you. “Not here.”

He hums, the vibration in his chest pressed against your back, so deep that it travels down your spine. “Unfortunate. But I suppose getting arrested for public indecency probably isn’t very good for my career.”

Behind you, you feel him tucking himself back into his pants, using your body to shield the way he adjusts before he’s gripping your arm and dragging you with him. “C’mon. M’not done until your face is painted with my cum.”

He doesn’t bother to fix your skirt, and you’re frantically tugging it back down to cover yourself as he leads you through the crowd. The next thing you know, you’re being pushed into the dark, dingy bathroom before his hands are pushing your crop top up, exposing your bra. Your eyes glance to the unlocked door when he tugs the cups of your bra down.

“Nah, a slut like you doesn’t need privacy,” he purrs, like he’s reading your mind. His eyes glitter as he follows your line of sight. “I wouldn’t even bother charging anyone who walks in for the show. S’a free for all.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he’s roughly pushing you against the countertop, growling when he pulls your skirt back up your hips. Your mouth opens to protest, but he speaks over you. “It’s so cute when you act all modest, but we both know you’re a cheap whore, huh? Pretendin’ that you wouldn’t like an audience. Like you wouldn’t let me bend you over one of those cocktail tables out there.”

“Think you wanna get caught, Svechnikov,” you tease, pressing your ass back against his pelvis, grinding on him in the same movements as earlier—only this time, you’re an orgasm deep, and you have at least some semblance of privacy, so you have no reservations. Your eyes lock with his in the reflection, holding his gaze. “Looking for an excuse to end things with Jenna, are you?”

“Nah, I think I’ll keep her around,” he says with a smile, pushing at your back to press your breasts against the cold countertop. “She’s a good fuck.”

“You gonna fuck me, or you just gonna talk about her? I can go get her, if you want. Catch her up on the details.”

With a laugh, Andrei tsks. “So impatient. Didn’t your mother ever teach you about manners?”

“More than yours ever taught you, that’s for sure,” you spit back. If only his mother knew the things he’d done and said to you; you’re sure she’d have plenty to say about her son’s behavior.

Andrei pulls himself out of his pants, fisting his dick before he’s dropping a wad of spit on the tip, running it through your folds. In the mirror, you see him watching the way it melds with your slick, coating the head of his dick. “I love when you talk dirty to me. Makes me so fuckin’ hard.”

He doesn’t give you the satisfaction of having the last word, shooting back whatever sassy comeback is lingering on your tongue, instead pushing into you so quickly a gasp is ripped from your throat. His hips press hard against your ass, buried to the hilt so you can throb around the entirety of him. “So tight, ‘specially for a cunt that gets used so often.”

The degradation pours out of his mouth, a hot wave of arousal trailing up your spine with every word. He’s the only one that can pull it off, igniting the blue flame inside of you with filthy whispers, paired perfectly with each precise thrust. His hands dig into your hips, pulling you back against him roughly, loud slaps of your ass against his pelvis echoing around the room.

A large hand makes its way up your spine, slipping into your hair and tugging you back until your spine is arched and his chest is pressed against your back. You take in your own reflection in the mirror, cheeks growing warm at the sight: hair mussed, makeup smeared, clothes disheveled across your frame. At the apex of your thighs, you can’t help but stare at his thick cock driving into you, glistening with your slick.

Andrei hums lowly in your ear. “Look at you, filthy fuckin’ whore with your tits out, getting this slutty little cunt destroyed by my dick.”

“Andrei,” you gasp out—whether at the filth spewing out of his mouth, or from the way he’s driving into you, relentless, you aren’t sure.

“Yeah, baby, you gonna come?”

Your reply is a choked cry. “No–”

“No? Yeah, you are, can feel the way you’re gripping my cock. You’re gonna gush all over me.”

Your hand betrays you, slipping from the edge of the counter to paw at your clit. His chuckle makes your cheeks hot, burning even hotter when his breath fans against your neck. “Say ‘please.’”

The last shred of dignity you have left lodges in your throat, and you glare at him in the reflection, refusing to take his bait. His eyebrow raises, and a moment later, his hips cease their movements.

An involuntary whine claws its way out of your throat, feeling the way your pussy flutters helplessly around him. You know he can feel it, too, judging by the way his eyes glitter as he looks at you. His voice is deep, rumbling lowly in your ear, “We both know you want it. Need it. Scott wasn’t gonna give it to you, was he? Not like this. Not like me.”

You purse your lips, shaking your head. You’re not quite sure what game you’re playing, not when he can read you like a book, can feel the evidence of your pending release, pulsing desperately around him. Begging.

When you don’t answer, still stubbornly clinging onto your last, desperate piece of humility, his hand slithers up to roughly grope at your breast. He massages, then pinches your peaked nipple between two large fingers. “Use your manners.”

Your hips cant backwards, attempting to goad him into moving—all you need is just a little bit, and you’ll be falling off the cliff into oblivion. He chuckles, hips moving quickly to avoid being sheathed fully inside you; you’re reprimanded with a slap to your breast. No words are necessary; he isn’t going to bother repeating himself, so you steel yourself and say with a shaky voice, “P-please, Andrei.”

A satisfied smirk curls onto his stupid, handsome face as he releases your breast, knocking your own hand out of the way to rub at your clit as he resumes the same brutal rhythm as before. The warmth of his finger sends a spark up your spine, heightening the pleasure that surges through you.

“C’mon, kisa. Come on it.”

You have no choice but to obey, the world shattering around you after freezing entirely for the briefest of moments. You swear your soul leaves your body in the middle of that dingy bathroom in the city’s hottest club; one set of fingers pressed against your throbbing clit, the other gripping the edge of the countertop, holding on for dear life. The sound of Andrei’s groan of satisfaction is deep in your ear, approving of the way your hips twitch in his hands.

“You’re so pretty when you come,” he says, patronizing, nipping affectionately at your shoulder. You don’t have it in you to roll your eyes, but you sigh loudly when he pulls out of you; the empty void in your pussy is devastating. “On your knees, sweetheart. Gotta clean up the mess you made.”

He isn’t rough, but he isn’t entirely gentle as he encourages you to your knees; you do your best not to imagine what is on the sticky, tiled floor of the bathroom—or the last time it was cleaned. Andrei smirks as he tilts his head down to look at you. “Knew I’d get you back here someday.”

“You want me to suck your dick or not?”

“I do,” he says slowly. “But I know you want that even more.”

Now, you do roll your eyes, ignoring him and leaning forward to take him in your mouth.

“Ah ah ah,” he stops you. You hate that he makes you feel like a greedy child going for a piece of candy before you say ‘thank you’. “Want you to say it.”

“Fuck you,” you spit out.

“Already did, sweetheart,” he winks, and you scowl in response. He’s the worst when he’s right.

“Wanna suck your dick, Andrei,” you say reluctantly, the words tasting awful in your mouth. You’re tempted to slap the smug look on his stupid, handsome face.

Your eyes draw to the way he takes his length in his hand, stroking it slowly. “Want it in your throat, hm?”

A glare, burning hot, shot in his direction. He watches you, expectant, and you know he’s waiting for you to repeat his words. The sooner you say it, the sooner it’ll be over. “Want it in my throat.”

“Want me to spill my cum all over that pretty face?” he smirks. You swallow, hot from the inside out.

“Want you to come all over my face, Drei.”

It sounds so sincere he pauses to stare. Then the smirk returns. “Aw, baby, all you had to do was ask.”

His dick meets your lips and you whimper as soon as it presses into your mouth. The weight of him is familiar, almost comforting on your tongue, though the width of him is something you never got used to. He’s big, and he knows it.

“Forgot how much I like the way you look with my cock stuffed in your mouth,” he says, pulling his phone out of the back pocket of his unzipped pants to snap a photo of you. “Should I post on my private story, you think?”

“You post and I’ll never suck your dick again, Svechnikov.”

“Don’t worry, kisa,” he coos. “Want to keep that for my eyes only. Now, put that pretty mouth to work, yeah?”

With a scoff, you roll your eyes and part your lips again—reluctantly. You can’t explain why, but there’s an inexplicable urge to have him back in your mouth, to deliver the pleasure he never fails to offer you.

To keep him addicted to you the same way you are him.

He presses in, doesn’t give you the time to adjust before he’s hitting the back of your throat, nor does he bother to hide his dark chuckle when you choke, tears brimming in your eyes. With a groan, his thrusts grow quicker, drool spilling out the side of your mouth.

“Not sure what I like fucking more: your cunt or your face,” he drawls, accent thick as he draws closer to his release. Thick fingers card through your hair, securing a hold at the back of your head and you blink away the stream of tears pooling in your eyes. A string of broken Russian falls from his mouth, eyes squeezed shut while his hips increase their pace. “Fuckin’ love when you gag on it though, baby.”

Andrei lets out another loud groan and a frantic series of thrusts before he’s pulling out of your mouth quickly, wrapping his fingers around length and stroking himself. He jerks a few times before releasing another curse in Russian before he spills onto your face, dripping thickly over your skin.

“Fuck,” he says, this time in English. “Now I gotta get a picture of that.”

When he tugs his phone out, you do your best to scramble away, but you hear the telltale click of the camera anyways. Andrei’s hum is smug as he admires his artistry. “M’sure Scott will love this preview of you for later.”

“You are the worst,” you huff, glaring at him as you clean up your face. Still, you can’t help the heat that creeps into your cheeks.

“What? All I was doing was warming you up for him. Think about how much dick you can take now that I’ve stretched you out.”

Not bothering to even waste the energy arguing back, you opt to flip him off. The effect is much less powerful given that you’re tossing out the paper towel that wiped his cum off your face. He raises an amused eyebrow, eyes raking over your figure before stepping beside you to grab his own paper towel.

While he’s cleaning himself up, you adjust your skirt, ensuring you’re properly covered. A glance in the mirror renders your reflection less than stellar, but you clean up the smudged lip gloss and wipe away the runny mascara from under your eyes. When you look back at Andrei, he’s distracted by his phone, so you seize the opportunity to take his wallet and pull out two crisp hundred dollar bills, fresh from the ATM.

Rubbing the bills together catches his attention, and he grimaces as he lunges toward you. Holding them just out of his grasp, you offer a big pucker of your lips, pressed to his cheek with a loud, “mwah!” before tucking the bills into your top, snug against your breast. With a wink, you walk out, feeling his gaze hot on your ass as the door swings shut behind you.

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