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mirohlayo · 2 days

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Could you do something about the drivers' new girlfriend who is obsessed with the reader? Who is the driver's ex-girlfriend? and eventually the driver's and reader end up together again. (a little inspired by Obsessed by Olivia Rodrigo

Hello !! I really struggle to choose between the drivers but I ended up choosing Lando (it's no longer surprising). Hope this suits your request, enjoy ! ᥫ᭡

OBSESSED

( when your ex' new girlfriend become obsessed with you, you know you have win everything. )

warning : angst, fluff, some toxic behavior, like two innuendos

note : sorry to all the Maddie it's just the first name that came up on my mind 🫰

word count : 1.9k

You're sure this whole thing has been going on for a few weeks now. And you don't know when it's going to end. It's been several weeks since your relationship with your ex-boyfriend Lando ended. And he's had a new girlfriend for several weeks now.

Sitting in front of a table on a terrace, near the Mclaren building in the paddock, you can't help but stare at your ex and the brunette girl in his arms, walking hand in hand along the path. Her long hair styled in a magnificent bun, her model figure, her confident walk.

You can't help but imagine yourself in his place. Because after all, a few weeks ago, it was you in this place. It was you who walked alongside Lando, who came to support him on all his races, who was proudly in love with him. And his new girlfriend simply replaced you. Because she is also the reason for your breakup.

Everything was perfect in your relationship. You were madly in love with each other and incredibly happy. He gave you the world and in return you gave him everything he couldn't have dreamed of. You were simply soulmates, made for each other. Until this brunette comes and ruins everything.

You knew she was friends with Lando. However, it was absolutely no problem for you. She's not the first girl he's had as friends and you can't deny the fact that you have a few guy friends as well. You trusted each other with your eyes closed so there was nothing to worry about her.

But when she started to interfere in your life, your personal relationship, when she started to get closer to Lando at a maddening speed and when she stole his precious time so that you remained the one who finally spent less time with him, you knew there was a big problem.

And that this problem is indeed her.

It's as if the roles had been reversed, and in the end you gradually became a simple friend, while she in turn became his new girlfriend. You couldn't take it anymore, even though Lando tried to reassure you about her and her actions.

He himself didn't want her.

But it was so suffocating that you finally put an end to it. You knew that at the time of your separation, when you said those words to him that broke his heart into a million pieces, you still had powerful feelings for each other, but love isn't everything.

And here you are now in this situation. You being his ex, staring at him and his new girlfriend when you just came to support the Mclaren driver. Lando has publicly announced that you have remained on good terms and are good friends, which is why you sometimes come to the races. But the reality is there: you don't even look at each other once.

Because if Lando does, he knows he won't be able to let you go. And if you do, you won't be able to hold back either.

“Huh, what is she doing here again?” Maddie, the driver's new girlfriend, mocks your presence as her vicious gaze glares at you. "Hmm ?" Lando frowns, curious. He tries to follow Maddie's gaze, and his eyes end up landing on the woman he deep down still hopes will always be his.

“I already told you to forbid her from coming to the races.” She adds. The driver rolls his eyes and sighs, not taking his gaze away from you. It seems that you are strangely attracted to your phone. "I know, but... we're still friends, she has every right to com-" "Friends? You don't even talk to each other, and it's even she who decided to break up with you."

Lando clenches his fist and his jaw. “And because of whom do you think?” He looks at her coldly, while Maddie can feel a deep fury just by looking at his eyes. She was about to retaliate when suddenly Lando fans came to surround you. "Y/N!! I love you, can I take a picture with you?"

You slowly raise your head, surprised to see three young girls smiling pleasantly at you, waiting for a response from you. You finally realize the situation, and you show them your biggest sincere smile. It warms your heart, knowing that despite the hate you received after breaking up, there are still people there to support you.

Of course, they may be fans of your ex, but the fact remains that they are all simply adorable, and you can't help but be grateful to them, because after all these people support the boy that you love so much.

“Thank you so much, sweethearts” You can't help but giggle and even chat a little with these girls. But while you're enjoying this intimate moment, you obviously can't notice Maddie's dark and unhealthy gaze on you. She kills you with her gaze, while jealousy takes over her entire being.

For what ? Why can't she be like you? Why can't she be you? What does Lando like about you? What can she do to be like you? She would lose her mind. She scrutinizes each of your actions. She records each of your actions and gestures in order to copy them with the exact same precision.

It's toxic but she can't help it, for her it's vital and essential. She is obsessed with you, with everything you do, with your whole person. You're her current boyfriend's ex, and she knows how much he's still in love with you, so she's trying any way she can to be like you. She just wants to be better than you. But she can't.

And you know she can't. Just look at the way Lando looks at you, eyes full of love and admiration, as you listen attentively to the fans in front of you. Lando himself knows, no girl will be like you.

"No but seriously, she's doing it again!! Is this the how manyth time this week?" Your best friend is almost going to tear her hair out. Maddie's latest Instagram post has the exact same types of photos you posted last week, and her stories are identical to yours. You sigh, running your hands over your face. “Look, maybe she didn’t do it on purpose, it’s probably a coincidence.” You try to convince yourself.

"A coincidence? You still manage to defend your ex's new girlfriend while she does everything to discredit you!" Your best friend looks completely hopeless as she plops down on the couch in your hotel room. “Don’t tell me otherwise, Y/n. She’s wearing the exact same outfit as you in her post.”

“Maybe we just have the same taste in clothes, we don’t know.” Your best friend looks at you with empathy. She gets up from the couch and places her hands on your shoulders, caressing them gently. "Look Y/n, I know you're way too nice to be mad at anyone. But this girl is so obsessed with you, it's super toxic and unhealthy."

You can't deny your friend's words. In recent weeks, she has only copied you and used the same expressions and facial expressions as you. She only hints at you. Why is she so obsessed with you when you don't care about her?

It eats you from the inside. You've been thinking about it lately and it's almost sickening. Your best friend seems to have noticed it too. "I know what you need. I'm going to buy your favorite snacks and we're going to have a relaxing evening together tonight, okay?".

She does not wait for your approval since you already know you have no choice. And without another word, she rushes out of the hotel to go buy your favorite snacks. “What a life…”, you sigh before opening your phone again, coming face to face with Maddie’s latest insta post.

As you were about to open the comment section, you heard voices raised. As if two people were arguing with each other. You remain paralyzed for a moment, before finally continuing what you were starting to do. But as soon as you go back to your phone, the voices continue to shout and be heard louder and louder.

Panic rises within you. Maybe there is a real problem after all? You approach the door of your room to try to hear better, but without being aware of it you end up opening it, opening onto the long empty corridor upstairs.

Listening carefully, you know that the voices are coming from the room directly across from yours. But you also, and unfortunately, recognize Lando's voice. You can recognize it among thousands of voices, and you are sure that the male voice is him.

A higher pitched, more feminine voice mixes with the driver's voice. Without realizing it, you are now standing a few centimeters from their hotel room, facing the door. But you can hear perfectly what they say to each other. Despite their voices muffled by the walls, you manage to make out a few sentences.

“I mean, why are you so obsessed with her?” Lando shouts even louder. He's really fed up. "I'm not obsessed with her Lando!!" "Oh, so why are you trying to copy everything she does? Why do I always see you stalking her social media, location and contacts?" He continues to rise.

This last sentence makes her speechless. “She broke up with you, so I’m looking at her social media to find out why” Lando lets out a mocking laugh. Did he hear correctly? "Because you still haven't understood that it's because of you that she broke up with me? It's all your fault but you continue to play blind!!".

Lando's furious voice brings silence to their hotel room. It seems Maddie has stopped screaming. "I should never have accepted this PR stunt. I would have received hate but at least I could have been with Y/n right now, with the woman I truly love with all my heart and not a girl who is hopelessly obsessed with a woman much better than her.”

Several minutes of silence follow, but the din of your heartbeat seems to echo throughout the hallway. They were arguing about you. The reason for their argument is you. And Lando talked about you. He confessed information you didn't even know. That you didn't know.

He still loves you, and the whole damn new girlfriend thing is really just a PR stunt. So, everything is clear now.

You gradually regain consciousness, but the bedroom door suddenly flies open, Lando stands in front of you looking completely furious. But when his gaze falls on you, his body language shows that he is already relaxing a little more.

“Oh, Y-Y/n…” You lower your head, ashamed that he surprised you like this. He's not sure what to say as an awkward silence settles. “Did you…hear what we said?” You clear your throat, avoiding his gaze. "You were screaming so...yes. I heard everything." “Oh, okay…”

He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed and very uncomfortable. “Maybe we should talk then” He suddenly offers and you lift your head to nod. "Yes, that would be better. In my hotel room if you want."

You both go back to your room, and Lando sits directly on the couch, while you join him by sitting a little further away, leaving a reasonable distance between you.

“I meant it. I meant every word I said, Y/n.” You nod to encourage him to continue. "Of course I think Maddie is completely obsessed with you and you must have realized that." He plays with his fingers nervously as he lowers his head. "But I also meant the fact that I still love you. So much. I'm still so in love with you that it hurts me to know that I can't wake up next to you anymore. I still want you so bad and I need you in my life. I know that our story doesn't have the right to end now and that it won't end until we're old and in love."

You wipe away a tear that had just formed in the corner of your eye as you take Lando's hands in yours. You can't suppress a small laugh - or rather a sob - as you smile lovingly at him. “Fucking PR stunt, huh?” He smiles shyly, his eyes watering from the tears that threaten to fall down his face.

“Yeah, fucking PR stunt and fucking crazy girl” He answers and you end up laughing softly. Your hands came up to cup his face as you moved closer to him, your hearts almost touching. "I still love you so much Lando. And I need you too. I'm sorry I broke up with you. I must have broken your heart and-"

"Don't apologize when it's not your fault, sweetheart. I should have cut ties with her a long time ago." He places a small but sweet kiss on your forehead. “I have the best girlfriend again and I have absolutely no plans to part with her.” You smile tenderly as you roll on top of him. “Good, because me neither.”

You kiss him gently on his lips, while he puts his arm around your waist and brings your head closer with his hand to deepen the kiss. He can't stop kissing your soft lips, because he missed it so much, he can't resist.

He slowly pulls away so he can just get a clear view of your face, while resting his nose on yours. “In the end I think I’m the one who’s completely obsessed with you baby.” You giggle, stealing a little kiss from him. “No need to tell me, I already knew that. A certain fake account of yours on Instagram was only watching my stories”.

He blushed violently at your words. "Fuck. Am I really a bad stalker?" “Well, not as bad as Maddie.” He bursts out laughing and tightens his embrace around you. “Good to know I'm better than that girl” He ends up diving back in for another kiss, this time more intense and more passionate.

He moans weakly as he lets himself into the kiss. Suddenly, the bedroom door bursts open to reveal your best friend. You both look at her, surprised. But to your relief, she rolls her eyes in a mocking grin and half-closes the door, before adding, "I think I'm finally going to cancel the netflix and chill and leave you to a romantic sex night."

You throw a cushion from the couch at her, but she manages to dodge. “Fuck you!” You shout at her as she continues to make fun of you. “You should say that to me, right?” Your boyfriend gives you a mischievous grin full of innuendo. You gently hit him on the chest as your best friend finally leaves, closing the door.

“Tomorrow, she is dead” You add, already thinking about what revenge you are going to prepare for her. “I think you're the one who will be dead after what I'll do to you tonight” Lando continues to add in order to tease you and despite your annoyance, you can’t help but giggle shyly. “But first, I want to cuddle you” You tell him before pecking his lips.

“I don’t ask for anything more” He ends up confessing before kissing you again, not being able to hold back the smile that forms on his lips.

After all, maybe it's true. Lando is ultimately the most obsessed with you. But as long as it's him, you know it'll never be a problem for you.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #lando norris fluff #ln4 x reader #ln4 fluff

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mxtantrights · 2 days

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Four times Red Hodd blushed because of you, and one time Jason Todd blushed.

The first time it happens you don’t notice. How could you when he wears that mask on his face all the time? It’s the two of you on a rooftop. You just raided a warehouse filled with scarecrows fear gas and made sure it didn’t land in the wrong hands.

You were coming off a high. That’s why you offered to get a bite to eat with Red. Red. That’s what you call him because you two are coworkers. You get the job done and have a few laughs, and part ways.

When he hands you a taco in silence you thank him in a stupidly wild accent that can't be real. And he chuckles. You hear it. You know you do, but you can't believe it. You made the Red Hood laugh!

It felt good. You wanted to make him laugh again.

What you didn't know was that he actually found it so cute. And was blushing underneath is mask.

2. The second time is an incredibly inappropriate time. The league had called on you to help them with an investigation. Which you were kind of feaking out about but trying to be cool.

You couldn't really be cool when Superman literally said your vigilante name out loud. You tried your hardest but you couldn't contain your excitement. You turned to Red hood and jumped up and down as soon as the meeting was over.

He laughed and told you yo calm down. But you started yapping about how Superman was the first hero you looked up to and how much of an honor it is that he knew who you were and acknowledged you.

Red Hood tells you that you remind him of the Robin that used to love Wonder Woman. Which makes you laugh and agree that that Robin knew what he was doing because he's right.

3. The third time is completely by accident. You're going down the zip line trying to get across from one building to another. And Red is waiting for you on the other side. It was your first time.

You scream the entire way as the speed picks up. Then before you know it, it's over. It's over and you're on top of another building but you can't quite find your footing. So you go crashing into the only thing there in front of you, which is Red.

He grabs you by the waist as the bath for you go down. You land with a groan. He cradles your fall entirely.

When you let out a breath and pick yourself up a bit, you're really close to his mask. The closest you've been to him since the two of you met.

He clears his throat and asks if you're okay. To which you nod, you're not about to go use your words when you know your tongue is heavy and you don't even know the alphabet. Red is tough and lean underneath you. You're aren't sure what you were expecting.

You pull yourself up quickly and offer him a hand to get up. He takes it and once again the two of you come face to face. Or, mask to mask. If he could see you now, fully he would see how hard you are flushing.

4. The forth time is rightfully earned. You just closed a case all on your own. No help from anyone. You did the investigation, you did the recon. And you got the perps into the hands of those who would deliver justice.

It was a pretty blood scene so you're a bit covered in it. Your suit is laden with blood stains and it got over some of your mask and face. You thought it would be better idea to shower in one of the safe houses rather than drag all the evidence back into your own home.

Red was there, cleaning his weapons like he usually does. And you walked in with all of that on you. It's like something in him just kickstarted. He looked at you, took you in, and all he could say was 'Hi'.

You gave him wave and told him you were going to shower the night off you.

As soon as you get into the bathroom, Jason smacks himself in the forehead.

5. It was a normal day. It was laundry day. You had a lot of shit to wash because honestly both your jobs keep you busy and you weren't about to send your things off to the cleaners.

You're in the local laundromat in great sweats and a blue hoodie. Your headphones are over your ears as you read through some threads online about Red. Not the ones trying to dissect his identity. The ones that are giving him credit for cleaning up the city.

So you're distracted when someone taps on your shoulder. You don't scare easily, and you know that if you're in trouble you can handle things. You turn around to see who it is and what they want.

A tall guy with a tuft of white hair amidst his dark brown hair. And his arms are practically poking out of his muscle tee. You haven't had a decent date in a while. A while being like a year now.

You remove your headphones.

"Can I help you?" you ask.

He nods, "Yeah, I'm sorry but I think you might have taken a piece of clothing into your dryer?"

He points over to the dryer. And there in the tumbling wad of clothes you try to decipher which piece of clothing is not yours. You can see a jacket you don't own. And a shirt that doesn't have any graphics on it, which means it's not yours.

Your eyes widen, "Wait seriously? I'm so sorry."

"Don't sweat it, I just wanted to know if I could pay you back sometime?" he asks.

You look at him then. Tall. Hot. Does his own laundry. Gotham is a cesspool but this guy is probably one of the good ones. Why not?

"Yeah?" you ask.

He looks away from you then for a second. His hand coming behind him to scratch as it his neck. And you see it. A very faint but still present blush dusts across his cheeks and down his neck.

a/n: based on this comment I got on a post! I hope he's bbg enough for you!!

#dc x reader #dc imagine #dc blurbs #dc #Jason todd #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd blurb

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operationslipperypuppet · 2 days

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buddy dawn was always going to be used by the rat grinders.

he was specifically requested - there was some sort of plan in place when they asked for an out-of-town cleric of kristen’s former god to enroll in their school and join their recently shattered party.

and, no, this probably wasn’t the original plan.

perhaps, in stealing his diamonds, kipperlily was securing his inability to fulfill the oath of bringing the bad kids back, forcing him to lose his magic.

maybe she always intended to sacrifice him.

slitting his throat, of course, was a reaction to being clocked by kristen, a hasty move, a hope of trapping them in. but she likely never intended for him to survive the year, if the choice was that easy.

and your heart has to break, slightly, for this child. who was raised in a cult, who likely couldn’t tell he was being used by everyone around him. who was maybe, just maybe, starting to get the tools that could one day help him see those things. but it was cut short by someone he probably believed to be a friend.

maybe buddy dawn was always going to remain what he was, an evangelist who believes so strongly in the power of their god that anyone who thinks differently is strange and wrong, that they will have final say on the morality of the world at large. but maybe he wasn’t. and no, i didn’t think he was going to make it out of this season alive. but i didn’t think it would turn out like that.

#listen. buddy sucked. but he was also a child who was a product of his circumstances #dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high junior year spoilers #fhjy

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fifthnailinstevesbat · 3 days

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thinking about married teacher steve and rockstar eddie.

steve’s students like to poke fun at him for “not being cool” or “trying to be cool”, and steve just feeds into it and plays up his cluelessness to modern things and what’s “hip” nowadays. he always just tells them they have no idea, and they’re gonna eat their words one day when they see how cool he really is, but all the kids just laugh and think he’s being sarcastic.

one day a group in his class is talking about the popular rock music star eddie munson, about his music and how much they love him, and steve joins in, asking them about eddie and what kind of music he makes and so on. he says something like “oh yeah, i think i know munson. yeah he’s cool, makes good stuff” and the kids are like “as if you know eddie munson, mr h, there is no way”. steve just chuckles and says “if you say so”

meanwhile eddie EATS EACH STORY UP when steve comes home with a something new to tell him all about what his kids were saying to him today

honourable mention but eddie also is WEAK for steve’s teacher outfits, the button ups, the vests, when he wears a tie WITH his glasses consider eddie a dead man.

on the last day of class for the year steve has given his class almost a free period of sorts to just chat and muck about being that it’s so close to vacation and all, and ofc the topic of steve’s uncoolness comes up again, and he’s just all laughs and smiles not even trying to fight back while they poke harmless fun at him, just looking smug as shit knowing these kids are in for a treat.

the bell goes and they all start to pack up their things to leave, and steve calls out to get their attention, remember the homework, stay safe, have a good break and all that, but THEN who else walks through the classroom door but eddie. munson. heading straight towards steve telling him “hey babe, ready to go?”

“yep, just let me grab my stuff” steve says back, and the class is stunned silent. eddie walks over to steve’s desk and puts a hand on his back as steve is leaning over it putting books and pages into his bag, “you guys are all free to go” he looks up to the class, smug as ever.

as he and eddie head towards the door, steve stops and turns around back to his class one last time, whisper shouting over his shoulder “who’s cool now?”

eddie is laughing infront of him as they walk out together, listening to the classroom they’d just left erupt into chaos.

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #teacher!steve #teacher steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #steddie au #steddie headcanon #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4

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swiftispunk · 2 days

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spring breaks loose | joel miller x f!reader

a your summer dream one shot

your summer dream masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | follow @swiftispunkupdates and turn on notifications for updates

It's spring, you're young, you're lovely, you have a right to be happy. Come back into the world.

–Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle

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pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ word count: 11.2k

series warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] we'll call him dad's buddy!joel, fairly soft!joel, age difference (28/50), angst, smut (will specify with each chapter), fluff, alcohol, food, secret relationship until it's not.

chapter summary: building bridges and starting fresh. it's springtime in austin. chapter warnings: smut, lots of fluff, a sprinkling of angst, consensual somnophilia, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, squirting, vaginal fingering, oral (m receiving), alcohol + intoxication, reader is so very eepy, food, discussions of infidelity, a whole lot of dialogue and tying up loose ends, heather comes with her own warning, in this house we hate chris, time hop, pov swapping. no use of y/n.

a/n: we have reached the penultimate chapter of ysd (for real this time). thank you to everyone who has stuck around this long. thank you to @frannyzooey for helping me work out a few things in this chapter, @joelscruff for beta'ing, and @5oh5, who offered me plant guidance many moons ago now. i also wanted to just boost the fact that i do have a kofi account, and while there is never any pressure to tip, life is hard rn and i always always appreciate the help. love ya'll sm.

*lastly: be sure to see the very end of this post for a special SNEAK PEEK of the upcoming final chapter of your summer dream.

january

"I'm really happy," you insist, and in spite of it all, Joel's lips twitch up at the corners. You've told him how happy you are about a thousand times, but watching you confidently profess it to your father is something else entirely.

"I'm really happy, okay?" you repeat, firm as you stare down the man across from him. Your father's face remains unchanged, stoic and blank as he nods. Joel swallows tightly as you nod back, and then you're gone.

Neither of the men utter a word until the back door swings shut behind you. Joel can feel your father's eyes on him, but he can't bring himself to meet them. He should say something. He clears his throat but then–

"Joel...since Costa Rica?" your father asks. He doesn't sound angry, Joel notes. No, he sounds…hurt.

At last, Joel looks up from the table, and your father stares back at him with obvious confusion in his eyes. Confusion and–as Joel had imagined–hurt.

Joel sighs.

"Yeah," he nods solemnly, shifting in his seat. "Yes."

Your dad just shakes his head, and Joel can practically see the cogs turning in his mind, playing back those days at the resort, piecing it all together in real time.

"That whole time we were there, you–?"

"No–" Joel cuts him off. "Not…not the whole time."

Like that makes it better. Your father doesn't look at him, still lost in thought, still shaking his head defiantly.

"I was…we were right across the hall. You–all that sneaking around–we–you–"

His rambling dissolves into incoherent sputtering until Joel finally chimes in again.

"I'm sorry," he says, and then he's shaking his head too, like he's just as much in disbelief about the whole thing as his best friend is. And he is, really. Couldn't believe it then, can hardly believe it now. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Goddamnit, Joel," your father suddenly exclaims, a palm coming down hard on the tabletop. His anger seems to catch up with him, as though Joel's quiet apology had somehow been the final nail in the coffin. "She's Sarah's age! I mean, that–that's my daughter!"

Joel swallows and sniffs back a heated flow of emotion. He knows he deserves it, deserves every bit of your father's ire. But that doesn't mean it doesn't sting, that feeling of being scolded by his oldest friend in the world. He shrinks a bit and crosses his arms over his chest defensively.

But he doesn't actually defend himself at all. For some reason, he digs the hole deeper. Maybe he's tired of lying.

"Younger," he grumbles, staring down at his hands.

"What?"

Joel clears his throat, cautiously daring to meet your father's accusatory glare.

"She's younger than Sarah."

There's a long and painful beat of silence as your father sits back in his chair with a heavy, exasperated sigh.

"What the hell is this, Joel?" he demands. Still biting, still cold, though not quite as infuriated.

Joel seizes the opportunity. He leans forward, elbows on the table, pleading. Where to begin? He thinks about what he'd want to hear if the roles were reversed–and starts there.

"Everythin' was mutual, right from the start–I swear," Joel begins. "And I...I mean, I couldn't even remember the last time I seen her before that day at the airport. I ain't never even thought about her like that before. Then we were–spendin' all this time together, which you wanted us to do–"

"Uh-uh, don't you go puttin' this on me," your dad cuts in. "You know damn well this ain't what I had in mind."

Joel nods.

"I know, I know," he agrees. "I didn't mean–sorry."

Your father doesn't respond. Joel sighs.

"Listen, she was hurtin', man–you don't know the half of what that boy did to her," Joel attempts to reason. "We got to talkin' about it all and I...I just wanted to be there for her, you know? And, sure, there was attraction there, she's a beautiful girl–"

"Alright, alright, alright," your father interrupts again, grimacing. "I don't need to hear about all that."

Joel nods again, swallowing back the words he'd been about to say–that the attraction had, miraculously, flown both ways. That you'd wanted him just as much as he'd wanted you. That he never would have sought you out if he hadn't known that was true.

He contemplates his next words carefully.

"Look, it wasn't right to keep it from you," Joel concedes eventually. "We–or, I–got caught up in it. You think I expected this? I mean she just–," Joel shakes his head, lost for words again as his cheeks warm and his lips curl into this fond little smile when he thinks of how completely and quickly you'd made a home for yourself in his heart, "She took me by surprise, man. But you know what it's like when you got a good thing goin'. You don't wanna risk losin' it."

Your dad just frowns, his mouth seemingly fused into a hard, unforgiving line.

"Costa Rica was months ago, Joel."

Joel sighs.

"I know. I know, okay? I wanted to tell you sooner. But she wasn't ready for that and I wasn't gonna go against her wishes."

Your father's jaw ticks as he chews on the inside of his cheek, thinking. Coldly assessing the man across from him like he's seeing him for the very first time. Joel crumbles under that stare, hates how it feels coming from someone he's known so long.

"You know me, man," Joel pleads, wide eyes boring desperately into your father's. "You know me. When have I ever gone for someone younger? When have I ever even wanted that?"

Your father's face doesn't change but he also doesn't argue, so Joel goes on.

"All I wanna do–all I have ever wanted to do for that girl–is take care of her. And I-I know maybe it's…uncomfortable–"

Your father scoffs at the understatement of the century, and Joel can't help the way his own lips twitch upwards too. It's a moment of genuine camaraderie, of two fathers well aware of the absurdity of their situation. Their matching grins quickly fade, but nevertheless, Joel feels somewhat more at ease when he next speaks.

"–but it's real," Joel concludes, "What we got. S'hard as it is to understand–and believe me, I ain't even sure I understand it, but…"

His voice trails off into a pensive sigh, mirrored by your father. There's another stretch of silence, but the air feels less tense now, a little less thick with disdain. Again, Joel ponders what he'd want to hear if he was in your father's shoes. What would give him the peace of mind to know this was okay?

"I'm…" he starts to say, but he's shocked to find the words get caught in his throat, obstructed by a sudden lump of emotion. He grunts past it, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders while your father looks on with furrowed brows.

"I'm in love with her," Joel finally manages, voice low and laced with devotion.

It's infinitesimal, but Joel could swear he sees your father's eyes soften.

"I ain't told her that yet," he continues. "But I think she knows. I think she's a smart girl, and I think she knows this is real, too. Hell, I don't think she'd'a stuck around this long if she didn't think I was serious about her. And so, I…I think you gotta trust her on this one. Even if you don't wanna trust me."

Your father crosses his arms over his chest and takes another long, weighty sigh.

"Jesus Christ, Joel," he mutters, shaking his head down at the table. But it doesn't sound angry or even hurt anymore. It almost sounds teasing, and Joel almost laughs.

"I know," he smirks. "Trust me, I know."

"S'pose I got no business tryna forbid it, do I?" your father says.

"She wouldn't let you even if you tried," Joel replies, grinning wider when he thinks of how you'd respond to that. You, so independent and sure of yourself. Yeah fucking right.

Your dad huffs out a single laugh. "Ain't that the truth."

Tentatively, both men sip at their drinks, falling back into something of a routine. It still feels…awkward. But the worst seems to have passed.

Meanwhile, Joel's heart is pounding in his chest as the reality of his admission catches up with him. He loves you. He's in love with you. He's never said it out loud before. His entire body suddenly aches with the need to see you, just so he can say it again and again and again.

Joel polishes off his drink, pursing his lips around the burn of whiskey on his tongue. The two men lock eyes, and Joel thinks maybe–maybe–he can see the early signs of forgiveness there.

"I get it f'you need some time," Joel says. "Guess I just…wanna make sure me n' you are gonna be alright."

Joel's best friend sighs, before nodding slowly and sympathetically.

"Yeah," he grunts. "Yeah, we'll be alright. C'mon–"

He cocks his head to the side as he rises up out of his chair and Joel hastily follows suit. Your father pulls him into an affable, if somewhat unsure, embrace, firmly patting his palms over Joel's upper back. Joel returns the hug instinctively.

"Don't fuck this up, Miller," your father grumbles over Joel's shoulder.

Joel chuckles, honestly grateful for the familiar ribbing. "Won't. Promise."

That's about the time you come charging back through the door.

four months later

A blanket of grey coats the early-April sky above, a telltale sign of rain to come. It's appropriately ominous, you think, considering what you're about to do.

Joel herds you toward his truck in the driveway with a hand on your lower back, but something in your periphery gives you pause. A glimpse of colour that hadn't been there before, stopping you in your tracks about halfway down his front steps.

"Those are new."

Joel stops too, following your eye line as he casually throws an arm across your shoulders. He smiles when he sees what you see, letting you guide him a little closer to what had once been an unassuming, mostly barren patch of dirt on his front lawn. Now, poking out from the otherwise lifeless bushes are a handful of tulips, vivid green stems giving way to pink and yellow petals, tentatively blooming in spite of the day's limited sunlight.

"Oh…yeah," Joel shrugs. "Sarah and I planted 'em. Years ago. Grow back every year around this time."

You're not sure why that stirs something in you. But it does.

Joel Miller has tulips in his garden.

Curiously, you inch towards them, crouching to delicately curl your fingers around the unfurling petals.

"They're beautiful," you muse. You turn to face him and find he's watching you with equal curiosity. "Pink and yellow?"

"She picked the pink."

"Adds up," you nod. "What made you go with yellow?"

He stares at your fingers fiddling with the stems, and shrugs. You think he seems a little shy.

"Can't remember," he says. "They're sunny, I guess. Bright."

A tightness knots in your throat as he reaches out beside you to touch his own fingers to the petals, softly running his thumbs against them, seemingly deep in thought. You think of a younger Joel Miller, picking out yellow tulip seeds to plant with his daughter because they reminded him of the sun. A younger Joel Miller digging holes in the Earth to lay down his roots, burying a memory only to watch it grow back, year after year. A sure thing, a constant. Always there even if you can't see them.

Of course Joel Miller has tulips in his garden.

"What?" he probes after a moment of prolonged silence. You clear your throat.

"Nothing," you smile, craning to kiss his cheek and feeling the low rumble of his responding chuckle against your lips. "I love you."

He cups a hand over your face before you can get too far, pressing his mouth to yours in a deeper, far less chaste kiss.

"I love you too," he murmurs as he pulls away.

You're still thinking about the tulips as Joel backs out of the driveway, and the first of the day's raindrops begin to hit his windshield. You make your way out of the safety of the cul-de-sac, and with the low hum of the radio playing in the background, you count the houses on the street outside your window in an attempt to calm your nervous mind.

Joel doesn't interrupt your silence. But as you merge onto the freeway, your heart begins to pound–and you decide you need a distraction.

"It's nice they grow back every year," you say absently out the window.

"Hm?" Joel's brows furrow as he glances over at you, sitting with your chin atop your fist and staring out at the steadily increasing rainfall. He quickly catches up with your train of thought. "Oh, the tulips. Yeah, it is nice. 'Specially after Sarah left. They always reminded me of her."

You nod and make some noncommittal humming sound. Talking was a stupid idea actually.

As ever, Joel notes your demeanour.

"You alright?" he asks, taking your hand across the centre console and squeezing three distinct times.

You sigh.

"Just nervous."

"You'll be fine," he insists lightly, not for the first time. "I reckon she's a lot more nervous'n you are."

You can't argue with that. Heather is the one who fucked your ex-boyfriend. Heather is the one working to make amends. Heather is the one who threw away your friendship and is now asking for it back.

"Yeah, that's probably true," you agree quietly.

Joel sighs. He lifts your conjoined hands to his mouth to lay a kiss against your knuckles, keeping his eyes on the road as he does.

"Just…remember, you're not goin' there to forgive her or to…pretend like nothin' happened," he says. "But I think you'll feel better once y'get this all hashed out."

"I know you're right," you nod, allowing the truth of his words to wash over you as you take another steadying breath and lean your head back into the seat behind you. "I just feel like I-I've been carrying the weight of this for too fucking long. I have to let it go. I'm doing the right thing."

It's a mantra you have to keep reminding yourself of–you're doing the right thing. Not just from a being the bigger person standpoint, but for you. You need to do this so you can close this chapter of your life for good.

"You're takin' the time to hear her out after all the shit she put you through," Joel goes on. "Makes you a better person than most people I know."

The pride and adoration in his voice makes warmth bloom in your tummy, but you roll your eyes all the same–out of habit more than anything else.

"I don't know about that."

"I do."

His gaze darts in your direction again, and there is no trace of a lie in that look. So you choose not to fight him, just smile tightly and accept his reassurance, falling back into comfortable quiet for the rest of your drive.

By the time he pulls up in front of the cafe you'd agreed to meet Heather at, your nerves have returned tenfold. Is she already inside? You're ten minutes early so maybe not. Is it better if you're here first or would that make her feel weird? Why are you worried about making her feel weird?

God, it never used to feel this terrifying to see your best friend. You have half a mind to ask Joel to wait with you but ultimately decide against it. You need to be a big girl about this.

"I can do this," you tell yourself instead.

"You can," Joel agrees, taking you in his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Call me if it goes south and I'll come pick y'up, alright?"

You nod resolutely as you unravel yourself from his hold.

"'Kay. Thank you."

"Good luck, baby girl."

With one last parting kiss, Joel lets you go, watching you from the driver's seat until you disappear behind the door of the cafe.

Heather is not there yet, as it turns out, and you can't tell if that makes this better or worse.

Now you're faced with new dilemmas. Should you order her a coffee? You haven't seen her in eight months; what if she takes it differently now?

She fucked your boyfriend–why would you buy her a coffee? the pettier part of you wonders.

And that's…true, you suppose.

So you buy yourself a latte and get it in a to-go cup, find a seat at a two-person table in the back of the dining room and wait. But not for long.

Barely five minutes later and Heather is coming through the door. She spots you and there's a moment of awkward uncertainty as you half-rise from your chair, the both of you waving at each other before Heather gestures to the line at the till. You nod and retake your seat.

You resist the urge to text Joel. You can do this. You can do this on your own.

Heather settles up, cautiously setting her coffee cup on the table beside yours and you're not sure why–instinct or something–but you stand when she gets there, and let her pull you into a hug.

"Hi, babe." Her voice is thick and her arms are tight around you. And, goddamnit, for everything she put you through, there is a familiarity in that embrace, something long-forgotten in the warmth of her voice.

"Hey," you murmur, letting her squeeze you in tighter before you both pull away. "Hey."

She assesses you with wide, wet eyes, hands still resting on your shoulders.

"You look amazing," she says.

"Thanks."

"I don't even know where to start," she shakes her head. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Of course." Like you hadn't stewed over it for literal weeks.

"Why don't I just–I mean, I have to–"

You can see her struggling, and you can't help but sympathize. She was always the more confident of the two of you, always more direct and brave–but in that warm kind of way that used to always put you at ease. Now, she seems completely lost, awkwardly taking a seat and waiting for you to do the same. She clutches her hands around her coffee cup and you don't think you've ever seen her look so small.

"I am…so fucking sorry," she finally says. She doesn't shy away from you when she says it, and you have to respect her courage for that. She looks you dead in the eyes and doesn't avert her stare even once.

You swallow tightly. "I know."

"Can I…would you let me explain?"

"Actually, Heather," you say, straightening in your seat a bit to steel yourself. Heather's face falls, until you go on, "Can I go first? I just need to say my piece and then, yes, you can explain."

She's nodding furiously before you even get the words out.

"Of course, yes, oh my god, please."

She sits back, probably gearing up for the lashing of a lifetime. It's not quite what you have planned but–

"You really hurt me. You and Chris. Whatever the story is, whatever went down, it doesn't change the fact that what you two did just... completely fucked me up. My entire life changed overnight because of you. I spent so many days crying, screaming, trying to just...figure out what I'd done to deserve that. Why wasn't I enough? Why wasn't I good enough for Chris? Why wasn't I a good enough friend to you? Like, if I was a better friend to you maybe you wouldn't have done that to me, you know?"

Fat tears slowly well in Heather's eyes as you speak, finally spilling over as you near the end of your monologue. But she doesn't interrupt or argue, and for that, you're grateful.

"I wondered about all of that for a really long time," you continue. "In those first few days when it was hardest...and for so many months after. But...I'm okay now. I think actually it all kind of worked out in the end, as crazy as that sounds."

At least it had all brought you to Joel.

"But I just needed you to know what it did to me. I think it's important that you know."

Heather hastily swipes at her tears, blinking them away and nodding her agreement.

"And that's it, that's all I have to say," you conclude. The weight on your shoulders feels lighter already. "You don't have to say anything back but...I do want to hear you out. You can...you can tell me what happened now."

That was the point of all this after all, you guess.

Heather takes a deep, shaky breath. You sip your coffee.

"Okay. Well, fuck. Okay. I had feelings for Chris," she begins. "But I never–I never dreamed of acting on them while you two were together, you have to know that. It wasn't premeditated or-or-or something I actively thought about–"

"I never thought that."

It's true. Heather's a lot of things, but she's not conniving.

"Okay," she nods, seeming genuinely relieved. "Good. I mean, it still doesn't make it right, I know that. But he–"

She cuts herself off, a nervous shiver passing over her. Her courage wanes, and she looks down at the table as she dives into the part of her story that neither of you wants you to relive.

"That night at your birthday party, he started telling me things. He…"

Her voice trails off again, and you can understand her fears, but you need to know this. Whatever it is.

"Heather, it's okay, you can tell me."

She glances up at you. You make your resolve as clear as possible on your face until you see her nod.

"What happened was…I was drunk and I-I told him how I felt," she continues. "I shouldn't have done that, I know that. But that's when he started saying all this stuff about how he wasn't happy and how he was planning to break up with you. He-he said he'd always wanted to be with me instead."

She stops, peeking up at you, but the only response you can offer her is a curt little,

"Oh."

Interesting. He'd made no indication of his unhappiness to you.

"In that moment, I just…I believed him. I should have just come straight to you but I let my stupid feelings get in the way and I–"

"He can definitely be very convincing," you say bitingly. Heather almost laughs, but quickly reins herself in.

"It's no excuse, and I know that," she says. "I just really thought he meant it. That he was going to end it with you and choose me instead. Not that that would have been okay either, but. God, in hindsight, I just was not thinking clearly at all."

Heather buries her face in her hands but it's getting hard to focus. You're flitting back through memories, trying to piece things together. Had there been signs? Since meeting Joel, you're acutely aware that you hadn't been as happy as you could have been with Chris, but you can't ever recall letting that on at the time. And you certainly can't recall Chris ever letting on his unhappiness. It doesn't add up.

"Then he did end it with you and you went to Costa Rica and I felt like, 'Okay, this is what he'd promised,' but…I could tell right away he was having second thoughts. All of a sudden, he's changing his tune, saying he wants to get back together with you and basically telling me I could just be like a-like a side piece or something."

At that, you scoff mirthlessly. Of course.

That's why he hadn't let anything on. He'd been trying to have his cake and eat it too. Motherfucker.

"Yeah," Heather goes on. "So I said, 'Fuck you' and I walked. I was already feeling terrible about what I'd done to you and that just settled it for me."

"Fuck," you sigh, pinching at a pressure point between your eyes.

"And I haven't talked to him once since then," Heather insists. She reaches across the table and wraps a hand around your wrist, and you let her. "I promise."

You place your own hand over hers–again operating on some kind of deep-seated instinct.

"Thank you," you tell her. "For–I don't know, for being honest."

"I would've told you everything sooner if you'd have let me–"

"I know."

"But I know–I know you needed your time. You didn't have to hear me out at all, and I would have deserved that. I take full responsibility, I do, but, my god, babe–," Heather's lips pull up in a smirk and you share a knowing glance, "–that guy fucking sucks."

You could try to fight the way your own face contorts into a grin, but you don't.

"Yeah," you agree. "He really fucking does."

There's a short beat of silence, filled with the sounds of your uncertain, quiet laughter.

"Are we okay?" Heather finally asks tentatively, letting your arm go. "Or–shit. Sorry. You don't have to answer that."

"No–it…I don't know yet," you say truthfully. "But, you know, I don't think you deserve what he did to you, either. And I'm sorry."

"I'm okay now. All I really care about is you."

You smile at each other tightly–uncertainly–and sip quietly at your coffees. She doesn't demand forgiveness or push the subject further. You think the air feels just a little clearer now, a little more like before.

"So what's new with you?" she chimes in after a moment. "How've you been? You never post on Instagram anymore."

Your smile turns a little shy as you debate telling her about Joel. But her gaze is so earnest and curious, it makes you want that normalcy, to be able to gush to your best friend about the man you've fallen in love with.

"Well," you shrug, sitting up a little straighter in your chair. "I'm seeing someone."

Heather's jaw drops in genuine delight, her eyes going wide with wonder.

"No way! Tell me everything."

And you do. You tell her all about Joel and Costa Rica, and every perfect moment since. Heather gasps and squeals at all the appropriate times and you find yourself remembering why it feels so good to have someone to talk about these things with. It's so validating to watch someone be as excited about your love life as you feel about it.

"Wait," she interrupts, early on in your retelling, "If he's your dad's friend–how old is he?"

You bite your lip, hardly bashful about it these days, but after the disaster that was telling your parents, you never know how someone could react anymore.

"He's in his fifties," you confess.

Heather's hands come up over her mouth, but her eyes are swimming with barely-contained glee.

"Shut up, oh my god," she exclaims. Her initial shock fades into awe, and when her hands fall from her face, you think she looks kind of impressed, "Damn, girl. That's hot. Is he hot?"

You smile. "He's so fucking hot."

When you're home later, you'll have to remember to tell Joel how good it had felt to brag about him. You're sure he'll act coy, but you know it'll make his ego bloom, just a little bit.

It goes on like that as the minutes pass, you catching Heather up on the whirlwind that the last eight months or so have been. She looks kind of proud, and that feels good too. You're so proud of Joel, proud of the life you've built together, the way he's taught you so much about yourself and helped you grow into this new, happier person. It's nice to have someone else see that.

"So, your mom still doesn't approve?" she asks once you've got her fully up to speed.

You shrug. "Not as far as I know. I haven't spoken to her since that night we told them."

"Oh, babe."

You just shrug again, pushing back on her sympathetic gaze.

"Maybe she just needs some time," Heather posits, "I mean, you seem so happy. She'll see that eventually."

"Maybe, yeah."

Heather offers you her own scoop after that, telling you all about how she's been busy working on herself, taking courses to get her yoga-teaching license and enjoying being single for the time being–though she does work in a few stories of some particularly exciting hook-ups. She seems well, and in spite of everything, you're happy for her.

What's more, you kind of don't want your time with her to end. She seems to sense it too.

"Hey, do you want to maybe grab a drink? Like, a real drink?" she offers once your take-out cups are empty and the cafe's traffic has slowed to an early-evening lull.

"Yeah, okay, fuck it," you agree with a shrug. Heather smiles excitedly before excusing herself to the bathroom, leaving you to check your phone for the first time in hours.

Everything good? reads a text from Joel.

all good, you reply, i'll be a little later than i thought.

Take yr time. Love you.

love you too.

A cocktail deep, pop music blaring, and a plate of nachos between you; this is true familiarity with Heather.

You're finally starting to feel some semblance of comfortable, and it feels fucking good. To laugh with an old friend, even if there's still that faint undercurrent of distrust there. You imagine it won't ever fully go away. The minutes tick by, and while that distant uncertainty never fades, it gets easier. It gets fun.

"So, be honest," Heather says, diving headfirst into her second blended margarita. Her eyes sparkle with a devious little glint and you already have a feeling what she's going to ask. "This guy…he's in his fifties, right?"

"Right," you grin.

"So like…what's the sex like?"

Your grin widens as a warmth floods your cheeks. You think about Joel, his patience and his generosity, his big cock and his skillful hands. His curiosity and his devotion, every new experience he's offered you and how genuinely thrilled he seems to do so. You try not to think about it for long, though, because your tummy is already fluttering in a way it really shouldn't be in public.

"Honestly," you say, sipping at your drink coyly. "I don't think it could possibly be any better."

Heather makes a delighted little noise, practically bouncing her chair.

"Oh my god, okay…but what about like, his stamina?"

"Um," you laugh. "Hasn't been an issue yet."

"I love this for you so much, babe," she smiles and it sounds like she really means it. "Can I see what he looks like?"

You have no qualms saying no to that. You may be stupidly in love, but you don't think it's biased of you to find Joel Miller beautiful. It's simply an objective truth. And it feels good to show him off.

You pull your phone out of your purse and flash Heather your lockscreen–a picture of Joel on the beach in Costa Rica, salt-and-pepper curls tousled in the breeze, soft belly poking out over his swim trunks, smiling at you over his broad shoulders.

"Oh my god," Heather repeats, yanking your phone right out of your hand for a better look. She taps the screen to keep it alive as she stares between the picture and you, smiling triumphantly across from her. "Whoa."

"Mhm," you smirk, your chest swelling with pride.

“That's a man, baby," she commends you, handing back your phone. You sneak a parting glance down at the image of Joel on your screen before locking it. Heather sits back against the booth behind her, shaking her head in wonder. "And he sounds like he's so good to you."

You nod, sighing dreamily. "Yeah...he's the best."

"Good. You deserve that."

It's honestly a touching sentiment, one that makes you warm and soft. You didn't know how nice it would feel to have just one person in your life accept your relationship with Joel without any convincing at all. You share a smile and clink your glasses.

"I need an older man," Heather jokes, the sincerity of the moment quickly dissipating. "I'm so sick of boys."

"Joel certainly puts Chris to shame, that's for sure," you admit candidly.

Heather huffs. "Yeah, well, that's not saying much, is it?"

You almost squirt your drink out through your nose.

"Sorry, oh my god," Heather laughs, but it's too late. And it's probably wrong, but you don't care. You both descend into a fit of giggles at your ex's expense, and something about it feels weirdly cathartic.

It's like old times after that. Easier to forget the drama when you're three drinks deep and laughing so much. You're comfortably drunk in a way you haven't been in a while, falling quickly back into your usual repartee with Heather. You feel lighter–freer–as you and Heather find your way to the dance floor and pick up basically where you'd left off nearly a year ago.

You also miss Joel.

He's being respectful, clearly trying to give you space, texting you to be safe when you'd let him know you'd be staying out a little longer. And that's nice and all, but you've talked about him so much tonight, and for all the fun you're having, you just want his arms around you and his lips on yours again.

"Didn't we go to high school with that guy?" Heather leans in close as you dance, effectively distracting you.

You follow her stare across the bar, averting your gaze the second you lock eyes with a handsome stranger leaning against the far wall. He's with a friend, and the two of them eye you and Heather with unabashed interest.

"Which one?" you giggle.

"The one on the left!"

You peek over at the men again, honing in on the one on the left. He does kind of look familiar. He's also still watching the two of you curiously.

"Uh…" you wrack your brain, trying to recall. It feels like a lifetime ago.

"Tom!" Heather exclaims. You shake your head.

"That doesn't sound right."

"No, it is! Tom from the basketball team, remember?"

You look over again, but it's still not clicking. Maybe you're drunker than you'd thought.

"He's kinda cute," Heather murmurs slyly in your ear. You grin.

The man is tall and lean, light-haired and certainly good-looking enough. A little older than both of you, but younger than the broader, burlier man beside him. You think maybe they could be brothers.

"Do you want to say hi?" you ask her.

Heather shakes her head.

"I have a better idea," she winks.

She grabs your hand and guides you to the bar, leaning against it and lengthening her body ever so. It doesn't take long before the men are coming up beside you like clockwork.

You could always count on Heather to find a way to get free drinks.

"What are you drinking, ladies?" the younger one implores confidently, placing an elbow on the bar top beside Heather. "Oh shit, do I know you?"

"I want a shot," Heather says, ignoring his question. "You guys want a shot?"

"Fuck, yeah–whiskey alright?"

"Tequila," Heather smirks definitively.

Despite being out of practice, you haven't lost the ability to recognize good vibes from bad. And the guys give off good vibes. Especially once you all collectively figure out that you did indeed go to high school together.

You shoot a pointed look at Heather when the younger one tells you his name is, in fact, Tim.

"From the basketball team, though, right?" Heather asks. Tim frowns.

"Actually, it was water polo," he says.

"Water polo!" Heather repeats, looking at you with open arms and winking. You try to conceal your giggling. "Of course, I remember now."

Tim grins bashfully, even though you are sure Heather most certainly does not remember.

You cheers to the Ravens and down your shots and then Tim ushers Heather back to the dance floor. You happily let her go. Tim seems kind of goofy, consistently making Heather throw her head back in laughter and it honestly feels nice to watch her look so content. You think about how Joel had made you feel those first few days in Costa Rica, when you'd still been reeling with all that heart ache.

You think about how much resentment you'd harboured for Heather back then, and while it's not totally gone, there's a sense of kinship there now too. Chris had hurt you both, and you know all too well how healing it had been to find someone willing to stitch up the wounds he'd left. You want that for Heather.

Goddamnit, you miss Joel.

You imagine showing him off to all your old high school friends like he was some kind of trophy husband at a class reunion. You'd walk into the gymnasium, hanging confidently off his arm and everyone there would turn and stare. They'd all whisper about his age, you bet. Call you mean names behind the bleachers and gossip about whether or not he was your sugar daddy. Thinking like that used to make you anxious, now it makes you grin.

"You want another drink?"

The other guy, Mike, is still sitting with you at the bar. He is Tim's brother, though you don't recognize him at all. Two years older and visiting from Philly, he's pretty clearly into you. But the conversation has been easy and he hasn't tried anything weird, so you don't think too much of it. You regale him about all your favourite local taquerias and what you studied in college, conscious of the way he seems just a little bit too interested in all of it.

But you definitely don't need another drink, bordering on the better side of too drunk, and as nice as he is, you think it's probably best not to lead him on any longer.

"Actually, I think I might head out soon."

"That's cool," Mike shrugs, polishing off the beer in his hand. "Wanna go grab a bite? Keep hangin' out?"

He sounds casual enough, but there's also an air of hopefulness in his voice.

"Oh, that's okay." You clear your throat, suddenly nervous at the thought of quashing that hope. "I'm, um, I'm actually spoken for."

Unconsciously, your fingers fly to the shell around your neck, fiddling idly with the chain. Mike's eyes follow the motion.

Much to your relief, Mike smiles, seemingly unbothered.

"Makes sense," he nods. His eyes trail up and down your body in a way that makes your cheeks burn. It also really makes you miss Joel. He's the only one you want looking at you like that.

"Well, he's a lucky guy, whoever he is," Mike says with a wink.

"Yeah," you agree fondly. "He is."

It's a quarter past eleven when Joel finally hears a car pull up outside. Two minutes later and your key is turning in the door, Henry bounding off the bed beside him to greet you downstairs.

"Hi, baby boy!"

Your voice, high-pitched and much too loud, cuts through the quiet of his home. He smiles to himself as he listens to you kick your shoes off, murmuring unintelligible nonsense to Henry as you both make your way back up to the bedroom. Joel sets his book on the nightstand and tilts his glasses down his nose, sitting up straighter until you emerge in the doorway with Henry in your arms and a crooked smile plastered across your face.

"Hey, sweetheart," he smirks.

You visibly soften at the sight of him, Henry spilling out of your grip.

"Hi," you whine.

Joel can't quite get a read on your energy, watching you curiously strip off your jeans and crawl up the mattress till you're splayed out on top of him.

"Mmmm, Joel," you sigh dreamily as you make yourself at home across his chest.

"I take it that went alright?" he asks, wrapping an arm around your neck to stroke the back of your head. You practically purr into his sternum and the sound makes his insides turn.

"Yes," you nod, before pressing both hands into his shoulders to push yourself up so you're straddling him, "But, Joel…"

Now face to face, you appear a bit dazed as you blink down at him, an adorable little pout painting your features. Joel smirks, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he waits for you to finish your thought.

"I missed you so much," you conclude, catching him off guard when you fist the front of his t-shirt and dive forward to slant your mouth over his.

You plunge your tongue between his lips and Joel can taste tequila there, can feel it too in the way you're kissing him; sloppy, hungry, eager.

"Only been gone a few hours, sweetheart," he chuckles against your lips.

"I know, but…after the cafe, we went drinking and–"

"No shit."

With what appears to be considerable effort, you push yourself off his chest and point an accusatory finger in his face. Your eyes narrow and Joel thinks you look a little too adorable for your own good.

"Watch it, Miller."

Joel grins.

"Mmmm, or what?" he hums, tracing his palms up and over your sides, which seems to distract you for a moment, your eyelids fluttering as a minute shiver visibly courses through you. You quickly pull yourself together.

Your blissful features quickly dissolve back into an overdone pout and Joel watches with amusement as you pry his fingers off your body. He could resist, but he doesn't, honestly just curious–and maybe a little turned on–as you collect his wrists in your hands and pin his arms down on the mattress beside his head.

Seemingly content with your work, you hold him there with eyebrows raised–and Joel decides to let you have the win.

"Can I finish my story, please?"

"Yes, ma'am," he smirks. You bristle at that but otherwise manage to stay on track.

"We went drinking, and it was really, really fun," you go on. You shift your weight slightly, and Joel smirks when he catches the moment you lose your train of thought at the feeling of his hardening cock beneath you.

"And?" he presses.

"I-I think I'm still mad at her…but it was…nice."

"That's good, baby," Joel murmurs, experimentally rolling his hips upwards just to watch your eyelids flutter. "I'm real proud of ya."

You exhale, making a sound that's almost a sob as you abandon your grip around his wrists to fold yourself over his chest again. You greedily kiss his neck and his ears and his face, and Joel lets you. Your drunken desperation is making him harder than he'd like to admit, and it's pretty fucking endearing to watch you suck your little marks into his skin with no inhibitions whatsoever.

"I talked about you a lot," you smile, clumsily resituating yourself so you're lying against his side, folding yourself in half so you're speaking the words against his belly.

"Yeah?" He rests his hand on the back of your skull, chuckling at the way you keen into his touch. "Talked about me how?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," you sneer just as you curl your fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

"What're you doin' there, baby girl?"

You peer up at him with a devastating puppy-dog stare, all wide-eyed and needy. "I missed your cock. I just wanna suck on it a little."

"Jesus," Joel breathes. He's powerless to fight you then as you tug his boxers down his thighs to reveal his semi-hard cock. He really shouldn't let you in this state but you're already wrapping your fingers around him and tonguing at his slit and it's too fucking late now. He stiffens fully in your grasp and promptly loses any will to stop you.

Then you close your lips around his length and take him as deep as you can, moaning like he's just given you the sweetest gift in the world.

"Fuck, yeah, you missed it," he grunts as you begin to bob, downright eager with it, if not lacking some of your usual finesse. You coat his cock with sloppy strings of saliva and move on him in an uneven rhythm but Joel's not gonna argue with a hot, wet mouth. Joel is more than happy to watch you take what you want from him.

"Messy girl," he remarks affectionately, stroking a palm down your spine to your ass, firmly cupping your cheek in his hand. "This all you wanted? Just to come home and let me stuff that pretty little mouth?"

"Mhm," you hum blissfully around him, spluttering a bit as you swallow him down again.

"Fuck, that's a good girl," he groans.

At that, you whimper, your cheek falling into his belly with your mouth still closed around his cock. You keep up the motions of your mouth for a moment, humming and moaning around him as you draw precum from his tip and suck it down greedily until he feels your jaw slowly begin to slacken.

He pets your hair and your body goes loose, heavy where it lays across his middle.

Joel can sense a shift in you then, your eagerness fading even as you continue to lap at his tip. Your fingers feel a little weaker around his shaft but you don't let up, lazily jerking him until he feels your hand go still, your lips barely grazing him anymore. You offer him a few wet, open-mouthed kisses to the head of his cock and then you go limp.

Joel waits a moment to be sure, peeking down at you questioningly.

Sure enough, you're asleep.

"Oh, baby," Joel sighs fondly. He squeezes your ass but you don't stir. Your slow, steady breathing lets him know you're really out, his hard cock forgotten in your grasp. You'll probably be embarrassed in the morning, but Joel's just stupidly endeared, hoisting you up into his arms and ignoring your half-conscious sounds of protest.

"C'mere, sweetheart, there you go."

He nestles up behind you, cradling you into his chest with his cock pressed against your ass. You shimmy back into him and Joel tries to ignore the ache, tells himself it'll feel better to fuck you in the morning when you've sobered up anyway. He reaches back to turn off the lamp on the nightstand and you whine at the loss of his body against yours.

"Joel," you whisper as he retakes his place behind you. "Did you come?"

He fights for his life not to burst out laughing. You're so goddamn cute.

"No, baby," he murmurs, kissing his favourite spot behind your ear. "Made me feel real fuckin' good, though. You can make me come tomorrow, alright?"

You hum contentedly, already drifting back to sleep. Joel pulls you in tighter, whispers that he loves you even though he doesn't think you can hear him, and it's not long before he's following behind you.

His alarm wakes him just as a beam of sunlight passes through his window, but it doesn't have the same effect on you.

You snooze peacefully with your back adhered to his chest, the gentle curve of your ass still flush against his cock. Your panties are gone; had you gotten up in the night? He can't remember now. It doesn't matter anyway, not when he can feel the heat of your body this close, bare flesh all soft and warm against him as the memory of the night before floods his senses. He'd fallen asleep with his dick still hard–aching–and within seconds of being awake, he's right back where you'd left him last night.

Not that it's uncommon for Joel to wake up horny when he sleeps next to you, but it's worse like this, worse that he's already felt your lips on his cock just a few hours prior, without getting the chance to come down your throat.

"Hey," he murmurs into your hair, but you don't wake up. You just move your hips backwards unconsciously, the hard length of his cock pressing warm between your cheeks. Driving him fucking crazy and you don't even know it.

Joel growls, a low, carnal sound he barely recognizes as he trails a hand down the side of your body. He cups your ass in his palm and spreads your cheeks apart, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing your hole. You shiver and Joel smirks. Sound asleep and you still respond to having your ass played with. Something about knowing you so well makes him that much harder.

Pliant and gone, you let him play with you, hands traversing every inch of your skin, up and over your belly to cup your breasts. His breath ragged in your ear, he gently twists your nipples just to feel them come alive under his touch. You squirm for him and Joel responds in turn, unable to help himself as he begins to slowly rut his hips against you.

"Sweet thing," he husks, feeling his touch grow rougher on your hipbone, your ass flush against his bulge as he grinds into you like a fucking teenager. "You don't even fuckin' know. Got no idea what you’re doin' to me, do you?"

He knows you can't hear him. Right now, he doesn't care.

He's wanted you like this since Costa Rica, too nervous to ask until you'd given him the okay all those months ago now. He's had you so many ways, and still you say you want more. He's not sure what he ever did to deserve you, but if one thing's been true from the start, it's that Joel Miller is not strong enough to deny you anything.

Something about this, though, feels decidedly selfish. His hand on your thigh, positioning your pliant muscles to his liking, bending your leg at the knee just so he can spread you open wider, slip his fingers between your ass cheeks and scrape them over your bare pussy; that's for him.

The sticky wetness he feels there–that's his.

Your spine arching in your sleep when he sinks two fingers into your warm, dripping hole–that's because of him.

"Still want it, baby?" he hums as he pumps his fingers in and out. "Still want this cock?"

He doesn't wait for you to answer. For once, he just takes.

You put up no resistance as he replaces his fingers with his cock, pulling your body back into him until his hips meet your ass.

"Fuck," he hisses as he bottoms out.

You're so warm, so tight and inviting and perfect around him.

You're so wet, slick pools of arousal coating the hairs on his lower belly, sticking to your skin where it touches his.

And you're so soft, all gooey and loose in his arms as he slowly rocks into you, as close as he can possibly get and somehow never close enough.

"S'my good girl," he breathes, "Take it just like that for me. Finish what you started, huh?"

He moves without haste, content just to feel you like this, close and confined under the covers. Experimentally, he reaches around you to touch his fingers to your clit, sighing in amazement when your pussy clenches on his cock, a wave of slick gathering at the place you're connected.

"Yeah? That feel good?" he says to no one as he gently circles your pearl. He's rewarded with a breathy little moan, the prettiest fucking sound he's ever heard. His hips snap against yours with more force now, jostling you with you every thrust. He can feel his control waning, and he's gonna wake you up soon if he's not careful.

Maybe he's done being careful.

Cock still buried inside you, he rolls you both so he's lying above you, your body prone to the mattress beneath him. Your fingers curl into little fists and then you gasp, eyelids fluttering against the light of morning. Something dark and animalistic twists in him when he watches the awareness creep across your face, the way your features contort and you strain to look back over your shoulder, piecing it all together.

"Oh my god," you whine when it clicks. "Joel, fuck, fuck–ohmygodJoel–"

"Shh, I know, baby, I know…I got you, you're okay," he babbles, folding over you to nip hungrily at your shoulders. You throw your head back and expose the column of your neck to him and Joel bites down there too just because he can. "Just had to feel you like this. You were so wet."

"Oh, fuck," you cry, voice still hoarse with sleep as Joel pounds into you harder. No reason to hold back now. "Fuck yes, Joel, take it."

"Yeah?"

"Please."

That's all he needs to hear.

With his arms wrapped firmly around your middle, Joel sits back onto his knees, taking you with him as he drapes you over his thighs and pulls you down onto his length. Your body still feels weak with sleep, almost passive in his grasp in a way he's not sure he should enjoy so much. He doesn't overthink it.

What he does is find your clit again, massaging his fingers over the bundle of nerves while he thrusts his cock up into you. A wanton moan pours from your throat and Joel catches it in a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

"There you go, there you go," Joel rambles when he feels you start to quiver, your pussy constricting around him as you spill listless, needy sounds of pleasure onto his lips. "Feels so good, don't it? Wakin' up with a cock inside you. This is what you wanted. Yeah? You gonna come?"

"Yesyes, fuck, yes Joel, I'm coming–"

"I know," he grins, "I know, baby."

He knows because he feels it. He feels you pulse around his length, feels your muscles seize and loosen, feels your little clit twitch beneath his fingers as he coaxes you through your high. He also feels something new, something wet and warm and sinful.

"Oh, good girl," he groans. "Fuck–look at that."

You're gushing for him, liquid pouring out over his fingers and his cock and his balls, staining the sheets beneath you. You writhe in his arms but Joel just keeps fucking you, fucks you until he's drawn every last drop from you. Fucks you until he's coming too, clutching you against him as his cock spasms between your walls and paints your insides with spend. Hot cum leaks out around his length, drips down your inner thighs, and makes a mess of your already messy pussy.

He comes and comes and then it ends, strangled moans fading into ragged breaths and heady grunts of release.

"Jesus," Joel pants into the hollow of your ear as he slowly comes down. "You alright?"

"Yes," you sigh. "Holy shit, thank you, Joel. Thank you."

He's got no fucking idea what for.

He pulls you off his cock and turns you in his lap to face him. Your arms coil around his neck and you cling to him like a koala, your face buried in his chest. He holds you there, because he thinks you might need that–and also because he wants to.

"How'd I get so lucky, huh?" he ponders as he gently strokes your hair.

"I'm lucky," you protest softly. "I was trying to tell you that last night."

"I thought you were tryin' to suck my cock."

You laugh breathlessly, unravelling yourself from him just enough to let him see your face. You curl your fingers into his hair in a possessive sort of way that would probably make him hard if he hadn't just come so thoroughly.

"That was supposed to be an act of gratitude."

"For what? I didn't do nothin'."

He tries to keep his tone as light as yours, but his insecurities always bleed through no matter how hard he tries. You sense the earnestness in his voice, and match it head on.

"That's not true. You've made everything better," you whisper, touching your forehead to his. "I'm so fucking happy you're in my life."

He's gonna have to ask you exactly what all went down with Heather. He figures for now it can wait.

You kiss him and he kisses you back, his furrowed brows softening as your lips move against his in a now-familiar dance. The sun rises over Austin and though he's not sure he'll ever have the words to tell you, Joel thinks he's pretty damn happy you're in his life too.

"So I was thinking," you say around a mouthful of eggs the following Saturday.

"Uh-oh," Joel grins.

You fix him with a look and his grin only widens.

"Anyway," you continue pointedly, shovelling another forkful of eggs into your mouth. "I was thinking–I'm kind of on a roll here. You know, in terms of, like, building bridges or whatever."

"Sure," Joel nods.

"And I'm thinking that…maybe I'm ready to talk to my mom."

Joel's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, like…" you shrug, focusing on your breakfast as you talk out what's been on your mind since you'd seen Heather last weekend. Being with her and hearing her side of the story had given you some foundation with which to forgive her. It's been gnawing at you that you haven't really given your own mother that chance. Perhaps if she could just see how happy you are, she'd eventually come around.

You explain all this to Joel, who nods along and hums his agreement.

"I just feel like I've…closed myself off to her and it's not really fair for me to just expect her to magically see the light, you know? I mean, look at dad. He's been coming around more, he's been seeing us together. And he's basically okay with it all now. Maybe it's just me, you know? Maybe I need to let her in."

Joel shakes his head, smiling at you affectionately. "You're too good for your own good, you know that?"

You scoff and wave him off.

"Whatever. But don't you agree?"

He appears to mull it over, sipping his coffee for a long moment before eventually sighing.

"I do," he nods slowly. "But I also think…you got a right to protect your peace. Lettin' her in means exposin' yourself to all the shit that might come with that."

You bite your lip and nod. You know that. You know he's right. You know it might blow up in your face to try to repair that relationship. But some little voice in the back of your head keeps telling you to do it anyway. A cloying, aching need to just…put things back in place.

"I guess I'm just tired of feeling so angry all the time," you confess. "I'm just…walking around with all this unresolved bullshit hanging over me and it's…I mean, it's exhausting. I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I saw Heather, you know? If I potentially have the power to do something about that, then I think…I think I should."

Joel smiles, his sweet brown eyes crinkling at the edges.

"Then I'm with you, baby," he says, reaching across the table to cover one of your hands with his own. "Whatever you gotta do."

You nod resolutely, spurred on, as ever, by his unwavering support.

On Sunday, it rains.

Heavy showers pelt against Joel's windshield, his truck parked in the driveway of your parents' home. A quick text to your mom the day before had confirmed she'd be home around this time and that she'd be more than okay with you stopping by for an afternoon coffee. Unlike when you'd sat outside the cafe in this same truck a week ago, you don't feel nervous to see your mother. Instead, you feel a strange sense of duty and an unflappable air of confidence. All you have to do is show off how happy Joel makes you for a couple of hours. What could possibly be easier than that?

Plus, you're not really worried about your mother coming at you with any kind of outward disdain. She can be oddly cordial when she thinks someone is mad at her.

"I'll stay close by," Joel tells you. "Take you home when you're done."

You frown. "What? You don't have to wait for me, that's silly."

Joel just shrugs. "Ain't no thing. Don't want you takin' the bus in this weather."

And Joel thinks you're too good.

"I wish you could just come in with me."

It had been the only stipulation your mother had outlined, or at least that's how you'd interpreted her text asking, It's just you coming, right?

You'd burned with rage at that, typed out an entire message in Joel's defense, but he had insisted it was fine. One thing at a time. He could sit this one out.

"Next time," he murmurs, leaning across the centre console to kiss your cheek.

"Yeah," you nod.

He wishes you good luck, offering you a goodbye kiss before you're pulling your hood up over your head and bounding through the downpour to the front door. Your mother is pulling it open before you've even stepped onto the welcome mat.

"Quick, quick, come on," she hastens you with a hand around your shoulders, guiding you inside and out of the pouring rain. You catch her look back at Joel pulling out of the driveway before she's closing the door behind you both.

"Oh, shoot, look at you," she tuts, prodding at the wet fabric of your hoodie. "Let me get you something else to wear–"

"It's fine, mom," you insist before she can go pulling you something hideous from her closet. You pull your damp sweater up over your head so you're in just your t-shirt, noting that hardly any of the rainwater had managed to leak through. "This is fine, see?"

"Alright," she smiles, sort of shyly. You've been apart so long, and it normally doesn't feel so weird falling back into that mother-daughter routine. Extenuating circumstances, you suppose. She glances down at the hoodie in your arms.

"Do you want to hang it up in the bathroom and let it dry? I'll get some coffee going."

You return her smile as best you can. It certainly sounds like she's trying. It certainly sounds like something a mother would say.

"Yeah, sure," you nod, already skirting around her to your way down the front hall. "Thanks."

You vaguely hear her hum something in response as she makes her way to the kitchen.

The main-floor bathroom is just down the hall, a renovation project that's been half-in-the-works for years, basically abandoned now that your parents almost exclusively use their en suite. Maybe they'd have finished it by now if you still lived here.

You flip the light on to find it looks much the same as it did the last time you were here; tiles partially laid, sink without a hot water knob. You carefully drape your hoodie up on the shower curtain rod still noticeably lacking a shower curtain.

You're flattening out the sleeves when you hear the doorbell chime.

Having grown up here, you respond instinctively to the familiar melody, poking your head out of the bathroom just in time to see your mother beat you to the door. She swings it open, and there on the front porch, soaked from his head to his shoulders, is Joel.

Your heart just about stops.

"Oh," your mother greets him, uncertainly looking back over her shoulder to where you're standing wide-eyed in the hallway.

"'Lo, ma'am,” Joel says. From here, you can barely hear him over the rain outside. "I don't mean to intrude. Just wanted to leave this."

You frown as he holds something out to your mother, something you can't see from this angle.

"Oh," she says again, sounding theatrically surprised. You roll your eyes.

"She left it in the truck. Just thought she might need it. That's all. I'll get outta your hair now."

He catches your eye over her shoulder then, quickly shooting you a sweet, heart-breaking smirk that makes your chest swell.

"Thank you, Joel," your mother says. "I'll, uh, make sure she gets it."

He smiles at her politely and offers her a parting wave, taking off at the same time she begins to close the door after him.

"What is it? What was that?" you ask, hurriedly emerging from the hallway to meet her in the entryway.

"Your umbrella," she tells you, hanging it up on a coat hook. "That was nice of him."

She says it absentmindedly as she makes her back to the kitchen, this time with you in tow.

Huh.

"Well, he's a really nice man," you say simply, leaning your elbows on the island while she tends to the coffee pot.

"Hm," she nods.

She busies herself, deep in thought in a way that makes you uneasy.

"What?" you press her.

She pours you a mug of coffee, preparing it just how you like with cream and sugar–the same way you've taken it for years. She hands it to you over the countertop, brows still furrowed together in apparent confusion.

"He drove you here?"

You frown. "Yes?"

"Kind of a far drive in the rain."

"So?"

She ignores you.

"What's he doing while you're here?"

You're struggling to follow her train of thought. But you think maybe you know what she's getting at. Why she can't understand Joel doing something so selfless, why she probably can't seem to understand you and Joel at all.

The thing about your mother is that there always needs to be something in it for her. Every favour, every helping hand; it can never be truly inconvenient for her, and it must always somehow benefit her in return. You know of people out there with mothers who are truly selfless, mothers who are there for them, mothers who would drop everything at a moment's notice if their children so much as asked.

But that is not your mother. That has never been your mother.

You'd forgiven her for that long ago, convinced yourself it had just made you that much more independent, that much more self-reliant. And it did, but at a cost. That cost being someone in your life you could always safely count on, someone you could always trust to be there when you needed them.

Someone who would drive you in the pouring rain to a house he could not enter, just so he could wait for you outside and bring you home when you were ready.

"I don't know," you tell her honestly. "He just said he'd stay close by and that he'd pick me up when we're done."

She's still frowning, seemingly perplexed at the notion. "He's just waiting out there in his truck?"

You shrug. "I told you, mom. He's a really nice man."

"Hm," she says again, staring down at her coffee and taking a long, contemplative sip. "I guess he is."

You grin. It's not much. It's hardly anything at all, really. But it's a start. A seed you're more than willing to water in the hopes that eventually, maybe, she'll come around.

A/N CONT'D: thank you for reading! and now...a special sneak peek of the upcoming summer season. continue reading for the first 500 words of the next and final chapter of your summer dream. i love you all.

chapter vibes:

Sometimes life really feels like a dream.

Even in the monotony, even in the mundane. The morning commutes and the tins of cat food, the Sunday afternoons spent cleaning and the Tuesday nights spent falling asleep on the couch. And it's funny, how just like a dream, you move through the days as though time means nothing at all, everything blurring together until all at once, a year has passed.

Summer blooms, softens and warms you from the inside out. The fan beside the bed blows cool air against your clammy skin, but is no match for the heat between your legs, the overwhelming sensation of Joel's mouth fused wetly over your cunt.

He drinks you down like you're his morning coffee, ravenous and greedy as he hooks your legs over his shoulders and snakes his arms around your thighs. But he is in no rush, languid in the way he makes out with your pussy, whimpering and groaning at every soft, needy moan he manages to draw from you.

But then you claw at his scalp, tug on those gorgeous greying curls and whine. Joel smirks.

"Impatient," he mutters.

He's been lapping lazily at your cunt for the better part of twenty minutes now. You are not impatient. Luckily, as you've come to discover, Joel will never tell you no unless you ask him to.

"S'alright," he whispers, barely letting his lips leave you as he sinks two thick fingers into your core. You keen at the welcome stretch, and Joel purrs between your thighs. "Yeah, there she is. There's my fuckin' girl. You want me to make this little pussy come? Never can just wait, can ya?"

"Waited–long enough," you groan weakly as he nudges at that perfect spot inside you. "Please. I've been good."

You feel him smile again before he's pressing a chaste little kiss to your clit, his moustache tickling your skin.

"Yeah, you have," he breathes, and then he gets to work.

His tongue moves in tandem with his fingers, expertly finding a familiar rhythm he knows like the back of his hand by now. In no time at all, warmth pools down your spine and settles in your tummy, courses rapidly through your veins and tenses all your muscles. You come with dazzling force, grinding your clit onto his willing tongue with that insistent fist still tangled in this hair. Joel loves that.

In these moments, the dream comes alive. The mundanity of every-day life splits open and you realize, there is in fact nothing monotonous about this life at all. How could there be? Joel is here–Joel is still here. A year since you first shook his hand in an airport parking lot, a year in which it feels as though everything changed; through it all, Joel remains. Like a tulip in soil, perennial.

"Wanna take you away somewhere," he rasps as he climbs up your body to kiss and nip at the side of your face. "What do you think? Wanna come away with me?"

You're not sure if he means forever or a day.

"Yes, please," you tell him either way.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel miller x reader #vacation!joel #your summer dream #joel miller one shot #joel miller series #dbf!joel

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gimmeurtmi · 2 days

Text

say please — han

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, minor dom/sub dynamics, smut!🔞

warnings: swearing, minor dom/sub dynamics, both are switches, spitting, like a lot of spitting, squirting, fingering, mess!!, use of “gross”, “disgusting”, “messy” but in a sexy way, ji calls reader mommy, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, undisclosed use/disuse of protection, enjoy <3

inspo: ji’s insta post <3

notes: a gift for my baby juni @hyunsvngs i hope you like it it’s your fault either way <3

{ wc: 1780 }

“what?” jisung turns to you after you whine loudly at him.

you’re both lazing around in bed, have been since you arrived back home after going out for lunch. it’s getting warmer now but you’re still in sweats and one of ji’s hoodies. you don’t mean to match each other but jisung has a lot of grays in his closet, and so you end up in the same colour scheme.

“can you stop texting and give me attention?” you pout.

jisung quickly puts his phone away and turns his body fully towards you.

“you were watching tiktoks,” he pouts back.

“i’m bored of them now,” you shrug, caging his hips between your legs as you roll on top of him.

“and what do you wanna do now?” he pushes your hair away from you, gravity doing its job by letting all of it fall on jisung’s face. he splutters around dramatically before neatly tucking it behind your ears.

“annoy you,” you say, kissing his cheek.

“that’s not annoying,” he smiles softly. the movement causes his cheeks to bunch up, allowing you to take a bite from his flesh with a giggle.

“ow!” he yells, trying to push you off him.

he can’t, as you’ve trapped him underneath your thighs, and all he can do is kick around the bed while you keep biting around his cheeks.

“you can’t keep eating me,” he whines loudly, pushing at your shoulders.

you move back slightly, smirking at your boyfriend.

“what?” he gaps at you.

“you’re hard,” you point out.

“yes, what else is new?” he scoffs at you, running his hands up and down your thighs slowly.

“was it the biting?” you chuckle.

“no,” he looks away, “i didn’t know you were so strong.”

you knit your brows at his confession, cocking your head to the side slowly.

“what?”

“you can hold me down pretty well,” he pointed out, “didn’t realise.”

“alright,” you say, because you aren’t sure what else you should say.

“can i eat you out now?” he pouts, eager, as if that was the next obvious thing to say in that moment in time.

it wasn’t, so you start laughing loudly.

“it’s not funny!” he defends, “i need your lips on mine.”

you lean down to kiss him softly.

“not those lips,” he mumbles against the kiss, before sinking his hand in your hair as he deepens it.

you kiss him slowly, despite his efforts to turn the kiss messy you don’t let him—controlling the pace subtly, but jisung scums to it anyway.

when you’re both out of air you pull away slowly, jisung’s heavy breaths against your skin.

“want my pussy?” you ask, breathless.

“yeah,” he nods, eyes shiny, “yes.”

“not like that,” you click your tongue, “be good.”

“i-i am! you know how good i can make you feel,” he urges.

“i do know,” you smile at him, “i also know you have manners.”

“come on,” he pouts at you, eyes so so big in front of you.

you quickly get off him, pulling off your clothes in a hurry before you spread your legs in front of him.

“oh, fuck,” he blushes, “fuck it’s so pretty. pussy so so pretty,”

he grabs your thighs, pulling you towards him in one quick motion.

your boyfriend is so soft and sweet you can often forget how strong his arms are and the force he’s able to use on you if he wanted.

“ji, shirt off,” you tell him, and he quickly peels off his layers.

now you can see his arms, look at them as much as you’d like. it makes your mouth water. you start wondering how it would feel to bite his arms instead of his cheek, and when jisung sees you aren’t looking at him he starts whining again.

“attention,” he lets out in a whine.

you chuckle at him softly before locking eyes.

“can i now?” his face is a few inches away from your pussy, so close you can feel little puffs of air on your wetness every time he breathes.

you want to push his head right into your cunt but you don’t. instead, you just shake your head.

“spit,” you tell him, your fingers carding through his long hair.

jisung quickly does as he’s told, like he always does, and gathers spit on his tongue. he lets it fall down, maintaining eye contact, and his spit slowly starts running down your folds.

you can’t help whimpering at the feeling.

“more, more,” you ask, raising your hips to meet his spit halfway.

jisung lets more and more of it fall, a few times landing directly on your clit and you keen loudly at the feeling. “make it messy, ji, fuck.”

jisung can’t wait any longer, and he surges forward to wrap his lips around your pussy—but you stop him.

“you didn’t say please,” you tsk, “so you aren’t getting any.”

jisung’s eyes widen in realisation and he quickly opens his mouth to start begging. you fucking love it when he begs, but this time, it won’t help him. so you grab his wrist and sink his fingers in his own mouth before he can start begging and change your mind.

the sound gets caught in his throat, so does his moan.

“give me your fingers, ji,” you say, slowly moving his fingers in and out of his mouth with the grip you have on his wrist, “fuck me with your fingers.”

jisung nods eagerly.

you let his fingers slide out of his mouth with a small pop, and he wastes no time before rubbing his fingers all over your folds, spreading the spit around everywhere.

“messy,” he says, a little dazed.

he slowly sinks his finger in, and noticing there’s little resistance thanks to his dick stretching you out this morning, he quickly sinks in another one.

you let out a loud moan at the fullness.

“wanna taste you,” he whines, a louder one coming out when all you do is shake your head.

“fingers, need them,” you moan out, as he pushes in deep and fast. he adds a third finger, the stretch now deeper and so so sweet as your wetness helps him easily glide his fingers in and out.

you let him spit on your cunt again, a high pitch moan leaving you at the contact.

“tits, tits,” you don’t even know what you’re saying, “make my tits messy, too.”

jisung quickly moves up the bed, continuing the fast pace of his fingers before he sticks out his tongue above your tits.

they bounce softly from the impact of him finger fucking you, and he tries his hardest to aim the string of spit towards your nipple. it doesn’t work, so instead he rubs the spit around, smearing it around your nipple as you moan loudly from the added stimulation.

“fuck it’s so gross,” you whine, “so dirty.”

“so fucking gross,” he agrees, this time spitting harshly on your other nipple. the wet contact and his words cause you to start clenching around his fingers. “so messy, you like it so messy it’s disgusting.”

“make a mess, please, baby,” you moan.

“mommy loves it gross,” jisung pouts at you, and you feel the knot in your stomach start to tighten.

“ji, ji, i’m so fucking close,” you grab his hair, pushing him back between your legs.

his eyes zero in on your cunt, the loud wet noises and your moans filling the room as jisung starts to whine again. “please, let me taste.”

“fuck, fuck, i’m so close, fuck,” you chant, “ji!”

jisung somehow manages to fit in another finger, sinking them in all the way to his knuckles.

“ji, ji, ji, ji,” you babble out incoherently.

“mommy, i’m doing everything, please let me taste,” he begs.

“stick your tongue out, baby,” he quickly does so, his eyes wide and looking up at you as his tongue sticks out millimetres away from your soaking pussy, “fuckfuck, i’m gonna squ—“

and before you can say anything, your stomach tightens and your thighs starts shaking and your clit pulses as a gush of water squirts out as your orgasm takes over your body.

you can’t let yourself look away even as the pleasure takes over you because jisung is doing his best to catch all of it on his tongue, his face covered in your release.

your thighs are covered in it and so is your stomach and everything is wet around you and your walls are pulsing tightly around four of jisung’s fingers but before you can notice any of that jisung wraps his lips around your clit harshly as he pushes his fingers as deep as they can go and flicks them hard against your walls.

you cry out from the overstimulation and the way his fingers brush against your sensitive spot but jisung doesn’t stop, only pulls away for a moment to say, “fuck, i need you to do that again.”

so you let him keep going, the pleasure taking over your whole body as your thighs close around his head and you scream.

“ji, it’s too much, holy fuck—“

he hums against your clit and it sends you over the edge again, but for whatever reason you don’t squirt this time.

still, your orgasm takes over your body for at least forty seconds.

once you recover you open your eyes to see jisung taking off his boxers—that are soaked through his own release.

“i’m fucking the shit out of you, you don’t even get it,” he says urgently, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach.

you’re leaning on the wetness now, the covers soaked in your release and jisung’s spit and before you can complain jisung grabs your hair and sinks his dick inside you. the stretch feels so fucking good, your walls looser but still not enough to accommodate comfortably for jisung’s girth. and the sensitivity of two orgasms so close together means you’re already clenching around him.

“everything is wet, ji,” you complain, and jisung pinches your nipples in response. hard.

you moan loudly and he says, “mommy likes the mess, huh? so i’m gonna push your face into the mattress you squirted on and you’re gonna thank me.”

he pushes your face into the mattress, and it smells like cum and spit and a little bit like sweat and when you don’t say anything he thrusts into you.

“thank you, ji,” you whimper out, “now fuck my brains out.”

“say please?” he chuckles, before grabbing your hips tightly and drilling into you.

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innaillus · 10 hours

Text

Probably SPOILER-y.

Uncle Sukuna. I just can't.

The absolute emotional turmoil I'm living in since yesterday aside, I ADORE this lore drop.

NEW AU! Or an addition to the ones we already have?

Sukuna's younger twin brother and his wife unfortunately pass. Since the twins grew up in a foster care, he reluctantly decides to raise him until he finds him a proper family. And why not add big brother Choso to the pile, who is not even related to Sukuna by blood?

However, his hardcore hustler forever bachelor lifestyle is anything BUT suitable to raise kids. And it's not like he is into the idea, especially when the boys start to grow. He probably has enough money to pay nannies, but they are still part of his life. And it is up to him anyways to teach them how to be a man.

The last thing he needs is finding his fatherly instincts and the desire to settle though...

But it's fine. As long as the boys don't turn out like him.

#sukuna #jjk au #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanart

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sahkuna · 3 days

Text

needed to write a drabble about sukuna being that hot older brother you always look forward to seeing at your best friend’s (yuuji) house... eee!

content warning: f! reader, smut, childhood "friends" with benefits, best friend's brother trope! oh and modern au:]

he’s only a couple years older than you, (by three years, if you want to be exact) and you’ve been acquainted with itadori yuuji's older brother— sukuna— multiple times.

whether it was through seeing him over at the itadori household during high school or being invited out by yuuji to sukuna’s new place a couple years after college— sukuna had always been a lingering presence in your life.

your relationship hadn’t been anything more than exchanging brief pleasantries whenever needed. until things start growing more suggestive as the two of you grew older.

it wasn't planned. the kissing, the meet-ups late at night, him deliberately lingering around when everyone else seems to have left the room. there were too many incidents to recall.

but one thing leads to the next and...

the slapping of skin on skin can be heard throughout his apartment, echoing against the walls of the vacant hallway that leads towards the doorway of sukuna's apartment.

tucked away behind his bedroom door, is quite an obscene scene. with your chest pressed against his mattress and face covered deep into his pillows, there's only so much left for you to do as you stick your ass up to receive the rough pounding from sukuna's thick cock.

the coherent sentences you used to form a few moments prior have slowly turned into a series of whimpers and broken moans all while sukuna has a tight grip on your waist pulling your ass flush against his hips so he can bury himself deep into your sweet cunt— unprotected.

you forgot how this came to be, of who convinced who to dip their toes into the world of sex with each other but you're damn glad that it happened.

"oh god," you blurt out between cries. sukuna's left hand drags down away from your waist, and finds its way toward your clit. "ah—! please, don't stop! that's… so good, so goo—ah!" you just about lose your mind when his fingers tease your sensitive clit in slow, torturous circles.

there's a mean, wicked smile tugging at the corner of sukuna's lips. his brows rise in amusement at how quick you are to fall apart in his hands— quite literally at that, too. "think you can hurry up and finish before your friend comes back?" sukuna asks, tone unwavering despite how his hips thrust into you repeatedly.

ah. your friend. his brother. the fact that he doesn't even bother to address him by name and does it dismissively would have you chiding him to be nice— but you're too far gone to digest what he said.

between the touching and the fullness of his dick pressing and rubbing against the walls of your pussy, you squeeze your eyes shut and wail. "please, please— i think i'm—!" your hand shoots down to hold onto his wrist. but you don't pull it away from you, despite how overstimulated you feel. "shit!"

when sukuna pulls out briefly to rub the head of his cock against your slit, you whine at the loss of him. with shaky hands you press your palms against his mattress, and make a weak attempt to change positions onto your back.

"please, put it back in!" he's definitely gonna make fun of you for begging later. but perhaps a higher power decided to have mercy on you— just this once— because sukuna's back between your thighs and stretching your hole.

fuck him, fuck him, fuck him and his stupid, girthy cock. and the smug ass expression he's probably got on his face right now.

despite that all, you wanted to kiss him. just the thought of it was—

the harsh sound of a fist pounding at his front door tears you from your thoughts. you're about to question who it is until you hear a voice from the other side that you know all too well.

"answer your phone, sukuna!" wait, why's yuuji here? "if you're gonna invite me to your place, at least do it when you don't have some girl over!"

"are you crazy?!" your voice is sharp, incredulity seeps through your tone.

with his dick still submerged in you and his hips rolling at a languid pace tacked with the sound of the gentle plap-ing of his skin against yours, — as if his fucking brother wasn't technically right the fuck there— he offers you a mere shrug. "forgot i invited him over."

and fuck him for being your best friend's older brother.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #bfb sukuna #hopefully this shows <333 #TUMBLR STOP HIDING MY STUFF

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cupid-styles · 2 days

Text

yours (ymls check-in)

in which y/n just wants to be harry's — officially.

word count: 3.8k

content warnings: parenting/family stuff (y/n and harry are parents), smut (breeding kink, slight size kink, literal one "mommy" mention, dirty talk)

ymls masterlist | main masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Parenthood is difficult.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out, so it takes Harry and Y/N approximately two minutes of bringing Clementine into the world to come to the same realization. Her loud wails break their hearts every time, sleep becomes a luxury, and breastfeeding takes an incredible toll on Y/N’s physical and mental health.

But in the same way that parenting is hard and filled with tears and confusion, it’s just as — if not more — rewarding.

Clementine is the best thing that’s ever happened to each of them. Harry can’t remember a version of his life where he wasn’t head-over-heels in love with his sweet baby girl, and Y/N has softened up a considerable amount now that she spends most of her day cooing to her daughter.

It’s not perfect by any means — Clem is a tried-and-true daddy’s girl and sometimes it hurts Y/N’s feelings. Clementine also inherited her mom’s grumpy exterior and, in the middle of a visit from Harry’s parents or Y/N’s sister, will starfish her body, going completely rigid until one of her parents takes her. (Harry always thinks it’s funny while Y/N is embarrassed by it. It’s something they’re working on as a family.)

Beyond their little trio, though, lies a larger situation that’s been conveniently tucked away since Clementine was born: Harry and Y/N’s relationship.

They never decided what they were after confessing feelings for one another. One day, they lived separately and were going the route of platonic co-parenting. The next, Harry moved all his things into Y/N’s, ended the lease on his own apartment, and painted the guest room a pretty pastel pink.

At first, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Y/N has never cared for labels on relationships, and their devotion to each other was blatant — they were parenting a child together, after all. He kissed her good morning, they held hands on family walks, and at the end of the day, they were crawling into bed together. She didn’t need a ring or a title to reiterate where she stood in Harry’s life.

Until… well, until the supermarket incident.

It was a rainy day, but Y/N wanted to pop into the store before they rounded the corner to head back home. Now that Clementine’s pediatrician gave them the okay to start trying out solid foods — or, as solid as baby food can be — Harry had gotten really into making it from scratch. Currently, their kitchen was a mess of sweet potato, apple, and green bean purees, but Y/N was trying to be supportive, even if the noise of the blender sometimes woke Clem up from her afternoon nap. She remembered him mentioning a new recipe he found for carrots, mangos, and bananas, so she figured they could grab the ingredients on their way home.

Clementine looked adorable in her cute little rain jacket and matching hat. Harry couldn’t stop taking pictures of her, and as they dipped into the produce aisle, stroller in tow, she remembered they needed another gallon of milk since they were trying to wean Clem off of Y/N’s breast milk.

“You guys can stay right here, it’s just in the next aisle,” Y/N said, arms stuffed with produce bags. Harry nodded, though his attention primarily laid on Clementine’s gummy smile. Y/N snorted to herself as she quickly shuffled off to the dairy section — the duo were two peas in a pod, but she didn't think she would want it any other way.

Glancing down at her watch, she put a pep in her step as she walked back to the produce aisle. They had about 15 minutes before Clem started getting antsy and whiney about her pre-dinner nap, and she didn’t want her to get upset on their walk home.

Only, when she turned the aisle, Harry and Clementine weren’t alone anymore — no, there were two women standing with them, cooing over their daughter.

“She’s so precious! How old is she?” one of them asked.

“Ah, almost eight months,” Harry replied bashfully, petting down the tuft of brown curls at the top of Clementine’s head. Y/N clenched her jaw. Why had he taken her hat off? It was supposed to protect her from the rain!

“So sweet,” the other woman grinned, reaching out to thumb over Clementine’s puffy cheek. The vision sent a pang of jealousy through Y/N’s chest — her baby wasn’t some kind of doll that anyone could just touch! Clutching the produce and container of milk in her hands, Y/N all but marched over to the stroller and threw them in the bottom compartment.

“Ready to go, honey?”

Harry blinked at Y/N, a world of confusion swirling in the green eyes he shared with his daughter. She stayed silent and still, knuckles white from gripping the stroller handle so tightly.

“Yeah,” he finally replied, leaning down to gently place Clementine back in her seat, “This is Y/N, Clementine’s mum.”

“Oh, your baby is so sweet! Harry was just raving about you!” one of the women nearly squealed. Y/N smiled tightly as she watched him buckle Clementine in.

“Okay, say bye bye, Clem,” Harry murmured. They’d been trying to teach her how to wave hello and goodbye, but Y/N would rather scoop her own eyeballs out than watch her do it for the first time with these women.

In fact, she was already pushing the stroller down the end of the aisle before they could even get the word “bye” out.

Since that day about two weeks ago, it’s been constantly replaying in the back of Y/N’s brain. Even though Harry didn’t think much of it (she knows this because he immediately started talking about nonsense on the walk home), for the first time, it plucked at a chord of insecurity that she didn’t even know she had. She’d always felt fairly secure in her relationship with Harry — he’d all but begged her for this life together, and he’d been incredibly involved from the moment she got pregnant — so how is that two random strangers at the supermarket tore this out of her?

It bothered her so deeply to the point where she did something she’d never done before: Ask Lea for relationship advice.

“In the years I’ve known you, you have never asked me for help with a man,” Lea had said, her eyebrows raised so high they nearly met her hairline. Y/N grumbled as she wrapped her hand around her matcha, avoiding eye contact with her friend. She’d been able to sneak out for an afternoon coffee date with her while Harry took Clementine to the park. “You’re always so… sure of yourself. And you have a literal child with Harry. What gives?”

Y/N shrugged as she rubbed her lips together nervously. “You should’ve seen the way those girls were all over him. It was… gross.”

“It’s normal to feel jealous, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“I am not jealous,” she muttered, “I just… he introduced me as Clementine’s mom. Don’t you think I’m a bit… more than that to him?”

“Of course you are. But you’ve never had that conversation, have you?”

“Like you said, we have a baby together. What else could you need?”

Lea smirked, “That’s all that you need. But he probably needs a bit more confirmation than that.”

Y/N bristled as she stuck her straw between her lips, taking a long sip.

“He knows we’re in a relationship, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, “Dom and I used to hear all the gossip about you two before Clem was born, but since then, I think he’s just been focused on making sure you and her are both taken care of.”

“So what do I do?” Y/N asked through a sigh, leaning back against the worn leather of the booth.

“Talk to him,” Lea said easily, “But… maybe don’t do it in your rough-and-tough-Y/N way. Maybe… make it a little special. He likes that, y’know? Little romantic gestures?”

Y/N scrunched her face. Lea was right — Harry was all about the little things, like surprising her with flowers or waking her up with breakfast in bed on the weekends. And while Y/N was positive she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body, she’d certainly attempt to find one if it meant making Harry happy.

. . .

A few days later, Harry walks into his shared apartment with Y/N to the scent of something delicious.

“Y/N?” he calls as he toes his shoes off in the entryway. They weren’t due for company, were they? He doesn’t think so, but with eight months straight of four to five hours of sleep each night, he had trouble remembering anything that wasn’t Clementine-related.

He follows the fragrance into the kitchen, where Y/N is standing over the stove, stirring a bubbling pot of some sort of sauce. She jumps, hand over her heart, when he goes to greet her.

“Jesus fuck, you scared me!” she exclaims, the wooden spoon nearly clattering to the floor. He smirks and lets out an amused laugh as he walks towards her, observing the array of pans on the stovetop.

“What’s all this for?” he asks. Y/N presses a hand to his muscular chest and attempts to block him from seeing anything.

“I’m making you dinner,” she mumbles, nibbling on her bottom lip, “Clem’s with my sister for the night.”

“Oh?”

She nods.

“Did I forget a special occasion?”

She shakes her head.

“Then how come I’m getting spoiled tonight?”

Her cheeks warm at that, but they both pretend her blush is invisible. “I just wanted to do something… romantic for you.”

“Romantic?” he repeats the word like it’s a bizarre concept and it makes a pit form in Y/N’s stomach, “That’s… sweet of you. Thank you.”

She nods, albeit a bit robotically. “Um. Yeah. It’ll be ready in like 5 minutes.”

“Sounds good,” he replies, “Do you want me to set the table?”

She shakes her head bashfully and Harry raises an eyebrow. “I already did that.”

Her demure nature makes a smile form at the edges of his lips and he reaches out to press a hand to her hip, squeezing gently.

“Y’okay?” he asks softly, tilting his head to look at her. “You seem nervous.”

Y/N shrugs and it supplies him with a tepid answer. “I just wanna make this nice for you.”

His heart breaks a bit at that and he ducks lower to catch her lips in a short, sweet kiss. PDA isn’t irregular for them — not with touch being Harry’s primary love language — so it’s unsurprising to be on the receiving end of one of his dizzying kisses, even if it ends quicker than she’d like.

“This is already so special to me. I do miss Clem, though.”

She snorts at that as he brushes his nose against hers. “Of course you do. She’s your mini me.”

“Except when she’s making that grumpy little face. That’s all you.”

Y/N lightly bats at his chest before mumbling out to go sit down in the dining room.

Harry’s eyes widen when he sees the candlelit table — he can’t remember the last time they ate on actual plates, always opting for take-out containers or paper plates for the sake of convenience. He swallows as he sits down and listens to Y/N shuffle around the kitchen. He hears her curse, followed by what sounds like her emptying pasta into a colander — she always burns herself whenever she does that, and he can envision the slight grimace that appears on her face.

Just as he’s getting antsy and preparing himself to ask if she needs any help, Y/N appears from the kitchen with a big bowl of pasta. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she places it on the table, then stands up straight. She looks like a soldier waiting to be told to return to their duties.

“Um… I made us that roasted red pepper pasta you like.” she says, wringing her hands out in front of her. “I hope that’s fine.”

“That’s great,” Harry nods, gesturing to the seat across from him, “Sit down. You look like you’re gonna have an aneurysm. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” Y/N grumbles as she sits down, and the sound of her grouchy voice makes him chuckle as he grabs her bowl to serve her, “I know I’m not, like… the most romantic person, or even the easiest person to be around, so it’s important to me that I make this really good for you.”

“I hate when you say that,” he murmurs before placing her full bowl in front of her. He moves to serve himself, “You’re the easiest person I’ve ever been around. You’re a great mum and I love being a parent with you.”

Y/N swallows as she listens to him, leaving her food untouched. He watches her and takes a bite of his pasta, chewing slowly.

“Is that… all I am to you?” she asks softly with low eyes. Harry furrows his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… am I still just a co-parent to you?”

He sets his fork down and uses his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Well, we never really talked about it, I guess. But you know you’re more than that to me.”

“You’re more than just Clem’s dad to me,” she continues. “And it kinda hurt my feelings when you introduced me to those girls as ‘Clementine’s mom’ a few weeks back.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Oh. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I know.”

His heart strains at the thought of hurting her feelings, but he also knows that what happened in the supermarket was weeks ago. Had she been sitting on it and thinking about it all this time?

“I never want to make you uncomfortable, Y/N. To be honest, I don’t know how to refer to you but… I’d say you’re my partner, yeah? You’re my teammate in raising our beautiful girl and I love getting to live life with you.”

Her heart thumps rapidly in her chest. “But what if… what if you called me your girlfriend, too?”

Harry’s silent for a moment. He reaches out to place his hand on her knee, squeezing softly.

“Would you want that?” he asks. “I’ll only do it if that’s what you want.”

She looks up at him and nods. Her eyes are glassy and it makes Harry’s chest tighten. Suddenly, he needs to be closer to her, so he stands up and scoops her into his arms. At first she rejects his touch, mumbling out sentiments about still having postpartum weight, but Harry shushes her and pulls her into his lap.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, Y/N.” he murmurs. He leans up and presses a chaste kiss to the side of her neck. She shivers and he keeps his hands as solid anchors on her hips.

“I want you to call me your girlfriend,” she says, lifting her gaze to look at him. “I don’t want you to entertain any other person or let them flirt with you or touch our baby. I just want it to be the three of us, always.”

If Harry’s being honest, he would have been content with living in this gray, in-between area with Y/N for the rest of their lives. He was happy — so incredibly happy to be in her life, to sleep next to her every night, to raise a gorgeous baby girl with her. He felt fortunate to be there for every moment, good and bad — but he would be a liar if he said he hadn’t been waiting for the day where she told him what was really going on in that pretty head of hers.

He presses a chaste kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says quietly, soft fingertips smoothing over the expanse of her hip, “You’re my girlfriend, okay? Not just Clemmie’s mum. You’re so much more than that.”

She nods her head and Harry smiles gently at how flustered she continues to be — it’s a side of her that he rarely sees, and the sight makes a low chuckle sound from deep in his chest.

“You’re silly,” he mumbles against the shell of her ear. “Isn’t that what you are? A silly baby desperate to be mine?”

Y/N bristles and swallows harshly, keeping her gaze low in his lap. His smirk only grows as he begins to press slow kisses along her jaw and down to her neck. Her eyes flutter closed.

“Everyone thinks you’re this pretty, grumpy girl, but I know better than that,” he continues, sliding his hands beneath her tee-shirt to feel her warm skin, “You’re loving and kind. The best mum I’ve ever seen. The best partner and the best girlfriend, too. Isn’t that right, mama?”

She gasps wetly and he feels her thighs threaten to clench, but his hips prevent her from getting any relief. He hums, satisfied with her response and, in a quick movement, pulls her shirt from her body and tosses it to the floor. Her swollen breasts sit prettily on her chest and he tries his best not to groan at the sight.

“Don’t tease,” she mewls. He chuckles as she grasps at the fabric of his own tee-shirt, the soft material in the tight clutch of her knuckles.

“Need me to fill you up?” he asks, though he knows the answer is an obvious and resounding yes. They haven’t had actual sex in at least a month, not with Clementine occupying 99% of their time. Even if he’s attempting to play it cool, his cock is hard and throbbing beneath layers of his clothing. He swears he can even feel the warmth of her pussy through her own clothes and it’s taking everything in him not to thrust up and grind against her.

“Yes,” Y/N pants, shaky fingers digging beneath the waistband of his trousers to pull his length out, “S-stop playing around. You know it’s been too long.”

Harry laughs lowly and lifts his hips up to grant her enough space so she can retrieve his cock. She doesn’t even bother pushing his pants or briefs down, swallowing tightly at the sight of the ruddy tip already leaking with pre-cum.

“Relax, baby,” he mumbles, grabbing one of her trembling hands and intertwining their fingers together, “Breathe, yeah? I’ll take care of my girl.”

Her pussy clenches at that — my girl — and she nibbles on her bottom lip eagerly when he pushes her soft shorts to the side to reveal her pussy. He wishes he had more willpower to look at what he’s been missing out on and his throat bobs when his eyes flicker down to the puffy clit tucked between her lips. He thinks they’ll both explode if he doesn’t get inside of her in the next two seconds, so he gives his cock a pump before he positions himself beneath her and slowly pushes in.

Immediately, she whimpers out and he stalls, his free hand pressing rigidly into the skin of her thigh.

“Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, “Tight fit.”

“I know.” he mutters, glancing up at her to read her expression. “Do you need me to pull out?”

She instantly shakes her head, “No, no. Keep going.”

Harry leans up to seal their lips in a messy, wet kiss as he continues pushing in as slowly as he can. He supposes he should’ve spent more time stretching her out, but if there’s one thing he’s learned about Y/N over the past year, it’s that she’s always eager and ever determined to take him, even if it’s been weeks since their last time together.

When he’s finally all the way in, his balls snug against her bum, their kiss slows, though it doesn’t seem like Y/N has any plans to separate their mouths. He doesn’t move a muscle, even if he knows his cock is throbbing from the tightness of her pussy. And then, after what seems like an eternity, she nods.

Slowly, he begins to fuck up inside of her and breathy moans depart from her swollen lips. Harry’s mouth catches each one, punctuating every whimper with a gentle peck.

“There you go, mama, take my cock. You’re doing so good, aren’t you?”

She only responds with a lilting whimper and he moans, feeling the way her pussy clenches around his length. It’s not the dirtiest sex they’ve had — not by a long shot — but god, if it doesn’t feel incredible knowing that they’re completely devoted to one another.

“You make me feel so good,” she mewls, making his eyes nearly roll back, “I love your cock— ‘s so good, Harry, want— want you to give me another baby.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, squeezing her hips hard, “Can’t just fucking say that stuff, baby. I’ll bust before you even cum.”

“D-don’t care,” she shudders, but he can tell she’s reaching her peak by the way her thighs begin to tremble, each of her muscles tightening. “Cum inside me, m-make me a mommy again.”

His chest vibrates with a deep groan and he reaches between them to pinch at her pearly clit, rubbing it in quick, tight circles. He’s seconds away from bursting himself, but he refuses to finish before she has a chance to.

It barely takes a few loops around the bundle of nerves before she’s shaking in his lap, her pussy tensing around his length as she moans out his name over and over again. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard and he presses his forehead against her sweaty shoulder, shuddering as her orgasm triggers his own. As requested, he pumps his cock deep inside of her as he comes, pushing his seed as far as it’ll go. She whimpers from the sensation as pants fall from her lips, shivering every time he thrusts another rope of cum into her.

They’re both shaking by the time both of their orgasms taper off. Harry wraps his arms around her sweaty form, pulling her chest against his.

“You’re mine, yeah?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You and Clem. We’re a family.”

Y/N nods, echoing his words. “Yours.”

They settle into a comfortable silence; Harry’s softening cock still inside. He’s unsure of how how long they stay there, but he does know that they’ll have to move eventually so he can clean her up. It’s only then that she sits up to look at him, her eyes soft and tired.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you get me Plan B tomorrow?” she asks, biting her lip. “I think Clem is… more than enough for me right now.”

He laughs and nods his head.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll pick some up for you tomorrow.”

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torasplanet · 2 days

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tojis fav part of his day has to be when he gets those little videos from you of you and the kids. he had a whole album dedicated to it and sometimes will stop what he’s doing to watch one of the video.

the one you sent today has to be his favorite. it’s a cute little video of megumi trying to eat your face.

“toji your son won’t stop trying to eat me.” you said through giggles while looking at him through the screen. then you flipped the camera and baby megumi was in his little blue onesie propped up on the bottoms of your feet with your legs in the air while trying to reach for something. he was trying to reach for you.

he was babbling nonsense to you as you laughed but your laughter turned to noises of concern when megumi started to lean forward and fell on you. “oh sh—megs are you okay?” you asked. toji laughs extra hard at that because of how quick you were going to curse but took it back. you didn’t want to put anything in the swear jar.

megumi didn’t say anything and just hiked his way up until he was on your chest. he look at the camera with his wide dark eyes and you looked at the camera too but your laughs came back once megumi opened his toothless mouth wide and put it on your cheek.

he began to make raspberries all over your face while trying to bite the fat of your face but clearly it wasn’t working. he even grabbed hold of your head to get a better chance but it didn’t seem to work. “megs! you’re getting drool all on me.” you laughed loudly and wait, this is toji’s favorite part.

when you realized it was too quite for a house of two kids. “wait, tsumiki what are you doing?” you asked grabbing megumi and pulling him off you ignoring the wet spot on your face as you stood up. you walked through the house to try and find the little girl and she was on the kitchen floor with flour practically nowhere else but on her.

“oh tsumiki…haha!” you said starting to laugh at the situation as megumi sat on your hip confused but beginning to leave toothless bites on your shoulder. you kneeled and showed tsumiki in the camera “say hi to daddy…” you muttered barely able to get your words out because of your laughter.

tsumiki smiled with her face covered in flour and waved “hi daddy.” you laughed even more at this and then looked at the camera “okay bye toji we have to clean this up.” throughout the whole day that was the one thing that stayed in his mind. his wife and his messy children.

#torasplanet.ᐟ #marls-drabbles.ᐟ #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen x reader #toji x reader #dad!toji #◛⑅·˚toji:0

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fairy-angel222 · 4 hours

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𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𐙚⋆.˚

Geto knows exactly what you need when you start to pick fights for no reason. Starting arguments over the smallest things in a fit of build up frustration. He doesn’t shout back, doesn’t even utter a word.

He just smiles.

Pulling you into his chest while you huff and push. His body rocking soothingly from side to side with his chin on your head. “Shh baby, it’s okay. Shh shh shh, i know baby, i know.”

It makes you angry how one sided the argument is. But you can’t help but sink into him as his words calm you down. Allowing him to kiss softly down your neck with an apologetic coo. “Haven’t given my girl the attention she deserves in a while. Left you all needy, hmm?”

You whimper, thighs clenching when he sits on the couch with you on his lap, the steady rising of his broad chest flush against your back.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. Gonna make you feel so much better yeah?”

You breathe out a moan when he gently pries your legs open. His fingers rubbing lightly over your clit through your dampening panties. “Look at that, been craving me so bad haven’t ya?” He sighs, leaving small marks on your skin in the wake of his kisses.

He took his time to slide off your panties, middle finger swirling in your wetness making you whine.

“Patience, i’m getting to it.”

“H-hurry up. Need you.” Your hips thrusting up into his hand desperately, letting out a little mewl when he finally prods at your entrance. “Haah.” Your lips part in a moan when he buries two of them into you, immediately curling them up to hit that spot you needed them to most.

“Faster.” You moan loudly, back arching against him in a cry when he complies. His thrusts becoming mean and hard as the pads of his fingers kiss that spongy spot inside you with no mercy. Your hands grip at his large forearms, mouth falling open in silent screams as his pace quickens even more.

Your stomach tightening and your eyes rolling back. The sweet feeling in your insides gaining intensity as it shot up to your brain, your head getting fuzzy as you shook against him. The world around you going blank with the curl of your toes.

“F-fuckkk.” Your cry came out as a high pitched babble, tears welling in your eyes as you neared your release. Geto holding you tight against him when your legs began to involuntarily shut.

“Nope, greedy girls gotta take it baby. You know ya need it so fucking take it.” His whisper was deep and husky, breath fanning over your ear as his thumb began to rub at your clit. “That’s it, good girl.”

Your noises only got louder as your legs trembled, “Fuck Sugu, ahhh. ‘M gonna— f-fuck ‘m gonna-” you let out a drawn out cry of his name as you let go.

A long clear stream spraying messily in front of you as he pulled away from your sopping hole. Using his palm to messily rub your clit as you continue to drench his thighs. “There ya go… so fucking messy.” He groans, turning your head to kiss you deeply as you shivered one last time, giving in to his lips against yours.

Geto’s hand snakes around your throat, resting delicately on your skin before pulling away. A string of salvia connecting your swollen lips. “Still wanna argue with me? Or should i take you upstairs and make you cum even harder on my cock.”

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader smut #geto x reader smut #geto suguru x reader smut #geto suguru smut #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru

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verstappen-cult · 3 days

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SWEET LIKE VANILLA, M. VERSTAPPEN.

PAIRING. female reader x max verstappen.

SUMMARY — You send Max some ice cream from your brother’s company.

GWEN’S RADIO MESSAGE. i saw a lot of people talking on tw about charles sending max some of LEC ice cream for him to try and i thought. . . why not write that with reader? so here we are. hope you like this silly little thing. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

“Hey,” You say, scrolling through your phone as your brother flops down next to you. “Could you give me a box of the Vanillove ice cream?”

Charles looks at you for a minute without saying anything, until he shrugs and focuses on the TV. “I thought you hated vanilla.”

“Well, yours is pretty good so,” You shrug, turning to look at him with a pout on your lips and puppy eyes. “Would you do that for your favorite sister?”

“You’re my only sister.” He says, rolling his eyes. “And you’re annoying, but you also know I can’t say no to you.”

“Say no to what?” Arthur pops up from behind the kitchen counter. What is he doing? You don’t know.

“To give me a box of ice cream.”

“You say you couldn’t do that!”

“Of course I can, I just didn’t want to do it for you.” Charles laughs, dodging the water bottle your younger brother throws at him. “Are you two going to the masters this Sunday, right?”

“Yes!” Arthur shouts before disappearing into his room.

“Who is going to the masters again?” Leo wakes up from his nap next to you and climbs on your lap, demanding attention.

“Well, I think Enzo and Charlotte. Lando, Arthur.” He says, checking something on his phone before saying, “And Max.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Max Verstappen.

The thing is, ever since you decided to partner with Joris and help with whatever thing he and Charles needed and, of course, his social media, you’ve been traveling with them since Las Vegas last year. Which means that you’re a constant presence on the paddock these days. And, thanks to that, you’ve become very close with some of the drivers, especially with one more than the others.

You weren’t looking for it, it kind of just happened when you bumped into him at a nightclub in Las Vegas after your own brother ditched you to make out with some random guy in the bathrooms. Max was kind enough to keep you company and then, when your brother stumbled out of the bathroom too drunk to remember his own name, he drove you both back to your hotel. He even made sure you were in your room before saying goodbye and going to his own hotel.

From then on you couldn’t stop bumping into him literally everywhere, so, it was only natural that you’d start making conversation, then following each other on Instagram was just as natural as moving the conversation to text messages (it was easier).

Your friendship has developed so much that you’ve been running together around Monaco lately, after you bumped into him at seven in the morning, surprised to see him running the same path as you.

And if you had a crush on the Red Bull driver before you started to be friendly with each other, well, nobody needs to know that — especially not your brothers or you’ll never hear the end of it. It was hard to act normal around him at first. You were just a girl with a crush, after all. But things have become a lot easier with time to the point of forgetting about the big, fat crush you have on the Dutchman. Well, that is until he does or says something that has you blushing and stuttering and acting like a complete fool in front of him.

Knowing that Max is going to be there this Sunday is equally mortifying, and exciting.

“Oh, okay.” You smile, scratching behind Leo’s ears while your brother has his eyes on you. “I’m coming, by the way.”

Charles hums, “The box is going to be here tomorrow.”

Your belly erupts with butterflies at the thought of what you’re about to do with that box of ice cream.

It’s Sunday, sunny and everyone is wearing their best clothes while waiting for the match to start.

You’re standing next to Lando, who is talking to Charles about the next race, when you see Max Verstappen coming in.

He’s wearing some blue navy linen pants with a white button down of the same material, a pair of dark sunglasses and his singular smirk.

Max is greeted by your older brother, who is quick to engage in conversation about some random thing you can’t hear from where you are standing.

But then he’s excusing himself and walking over to you.

You don’t know if he’s actually looking at you thanks to the sunglasses covering his eyes, but you feel small and shy nonetheless.

“Hey, mate.” Lando claps his shoulder, making space for Max to stand between you and him.

“Hey,” This time you know he’s looking at you because his entire body is turned in your direction.

“Hey, Maxie.” You say, the corners of your mouth curling up. “Nice clothes.” You cringe the second the words leave your lips. Nice clothes, really?

Max just chuckles before looking over to your brother. “Hey, Charlie. Thanks for the ice cream.”

Oh. My. God.

Shit.

Fuck.

You had forgotten about that.

Well, no. You hadn’t forgotten about it because, in fact, you've been thinking about the box of LEC ice cream that you sent Max all week.

You didn’t think he was going to bring it up, because you were sure he was going to think that Charles was nice enough to send his friend some of his ice cream. Or even that it was some PR move from his part.

However, he brings it up in front of you. And Lando. And the owner of the ice cream who doesn’t know anything about it. All he knows is that you wanted some vanilla ice cream because you said you liked it.

“What are you talking about?” Charles asks, confused. “It’s not being sold in Monaco yet.”

It’s Max’s turn to look confused. “What?” He takes off his sunglasses. And you’re not at all ready to see his deep blue eyes, so you avoid looking up at him. “You sent me a box of… Vanillove is it called? I didn’t know you knew I only liked vanilla.”

You want to die. You want for the earth to swallow you right now.

“Max,” Charles says at the same time you look at him, eyes pleading not to say anything. “What?” He asks you, eyebrows raised in question.

And then you have two more pairs of eyes on you.

You decide, right at that moment, that you’re not going to talk to Charles ever again. Why does everyone talk about that silent connection between siblings where they know what is going on with just a look? Because you, certainly, don’t have it with Charles.

Lando snorts, hands immediately covering his mouth. He looks at you, amusement on his face.

Oh, that is just great. Lando knows.

And your brother still has no clue, “What happens?” He asks again, this time grabbing your arm softly to make you look at him, but your sandals are more interesting.

“The match is about to start.”

Thank God for Lorenzo. You could kiss him just because he came at the right moment to save you from embarrassing yourself even more without even knowing.

Everybody talks and moves at the same time, making their ways over the seats.

“Hey,” Max touches your shoulder, making you turn around. “Are you okay?” Max touches your forehead with the back of his hand and you pray to all the gods above that he doesn’t notice you shivering because of it.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just the sun. It is a little hot.” You smile, dismissing the topic with a wave of your hand.

“I’ll get you some water,” He drops his hand and you immediately miss his warmth. “save me a seat?”

You feel your heart hammering in your ears as you nod, walking away with his question and the little smile that came with it replaying in your head.

You find your seats behind Arthur and his girlfriend, in the rows next to yours separated by the stairs is Charles and Lando, yapping like their lives depend on it, next to them is Lorenzo and Charlotte.

You’re thinking about what to say to Charles because he is, eventually, going to ask you about what is going on and you know he will not rest until you give him an answer. You are a shitty liar, so you need to practice.

Max calls your name, drawing your attention back to the present.

“You have your head in the clouds today.” He hands you a water bottle and you take a long sip, trying to gain some control over yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

“Will you tell me what is going on?” Max looks intently at you, a small smile still on his lips.

You sigh. Well, he needs to know, right? You owe him that.

But then, Max is leaning closer and pushing a strand of hair out of your face, resting his hand in the back of your neck and stroking ever so softly.

“You smell,” He says, closing his eyes for a second and inhaling. “sweet like vanilla.”

His words send a thrill down your spine, words stuck in your throat. Max expression softens, mixed with something you can’t describe.

He rubs his thumb gently over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You sent the ice cream, didn’t you?”

You take a sharp intake of breath.

The closeness and the warmth emanating from his body along with his touch are making your brain go fuzzy at the edges.

“Y/N?” He smiles at you when you make eye contact, his blue eyes deep as the ocean. “It was you?”

You nod, blood rushing to your cheeks. “Yes.” You breathe, embarrassed and shy and feeling like an idiot.

“I knew it.” He says, chucking. You tilt your head to the side in a silent question. “I told you about my favorite ice cream flavor just a few weeks ago. And suddenly I have a box full of vanilla ice cream from LEC?” Max pulls his hand away, but is still close to you. “I mean, Charles and I are friends but we’re not that close.”

“Oh, God.” You hide your face behind your hands. “I was going to tell you. Eventually.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You look at him from between your fingers. “I don’t know.”

Max sighs, lopsided grin plastered on his face. “Now you have to come to my apartment and help me with them. It’s a lot for one person.” He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant but you see the blush quickly spreading over his cheeks.

“I would love to.”

Max flops his head on your shoulder and gazes up at you with those big blue eyes of his. “It is a date.”

Max definitely doesn’t need to know that you hate vanilla ice cream.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you

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chromimis · 22 hours

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❝ HEAVEN IS BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS!❞

FEATURING : naoya z. , nanami k. , geto s. , gojo s.

ღ — SYNOPSIS : jjk men and how they go down on you.

ღ — TAGS : smut, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, size kink, hair pulling, face sitting, dacryphilla, overstimulation, wall s*x, usage of s*x toy’s & bounds (geto’s), impact play, barely any dirty talk cause their face is in your puss, cursing, all lowercase intended !

ღ — A/N : tagging @nantoji & @thebimbopalace hope you enjoy!!

☆ NAOYA ZEN’IN

“ what’a fucking whore.” naoya croaks out a cruel laugh, his sharp brown eyes zeroing out on your needy hole sucking three of his long fingers in. you feel a cold shiver run up your spine from his humiliating words and fingers.

it’s not very often that naoya takes his time and actually goes down on you— he prefers skipping straight to the fingering part so he can fuck you dizzy. but when he truly takes his time; he’ll focus on making you spell out what you really wanted him to do.

“ n-naoya! i… my clit, please!” you whine; even to your own ears you sound quite pathetic. the devilish man above you decides that he’ll finally pay your clit attention… by giving the bud harsh spanks. “ naoya— st…stop!”

the painful sticky contact catches you off guard completely before it quickly bursts into waves of pleasure. taken aback, you jerk your body away from him. the confusing pleasure-pain complex has you feeling lightheaded.

he stills your jerking body with the same hand sending your clit harsh jolts on your thigh. “ stop, huh? your mouth and your pussy are saying two different things, so make up your mind, dummy.”

the way how he easily dumbs you down with a simple sentence impossibly turns you on even more. you hazily feel your walls clench around his fingers, inviting him and holding his fingers in. your eyes travel down to his face; a slim eyebrow of his is raised and his lips is twisted into his usual arrogant smirk.

immediately, you recognize what’s written all on his face. ‘ explain what you want or we’ll be here like this all day.’ ignorant. the bastard knows what you want, he’s just dragging it out for his own entertainment.

you gulp down all discomfiture, and open your mouth. “ i… i want you to l-lick my clit and finger me, naoya.” still not satisfied. he drums his fingers against the inside of your thigh with the illusion of patience. “ pretty please, n-naoya?”

“ good girl. s’all you had to say.” he starts thrusting his fingers again, even faster than before. his head dips down to your clit to give it a spit filled kiss before lapping it up into his mouth entirely.

you loudly moan, back arching off the bed as he began to write love letters on the expanse of your twitching clit. “ yes, yesss! please don’t stop, naoya!” you shriek out, legs twitching and swaying wildly, only stopping when he delivers a resounding slap on the inside of your trembling thigh.

“ stay fuckin’ still or i can stop altogether.” you hear— feel him whisper harshly against your clit. although, something tells you he doesn’t want to stop. your slick arousal running down the palm of his hand to his forearm is the betrayal of his words, when he works his rhythm up to see your pussy push out that delightful clear fluid.

the pads of his fingers are working a balanced rhythm against your g-spot, and his spit-covered lips are sucking and nibbling lewdly on your clit. a tight but slightly uncomfortable pressure builds in your lower stomach.

“ mmph— m’gonna s-squirt, naoya!” your warning seems to fall on keen ears as he begins curling and thrusting his fingers even more, he hardens the tip of his tongue so it can deliver electrifying licks to the erect bud. “ fuh-fuck! feels s’good!”

your nimble fingers finds home in his bleached locks of hair. he nibbled on your clit abruptly, and that was your end. your body thrashes wildly as clear fluids squirts from your body, his name husky on your lips.

naoya, in all one’s glory, watches the salacious scene in front of him. and once your done coming down from your high, he delivers a few more spanks against your entire cunt. face and chin utterly drenched in your fluids.

there’s a pregnant pause in the room as naoya leans up to his full height. distantly, you feel three fingers tap against your cheek. condescendingly. “ you look so dumb… i want you to squirt f’me again, so get up.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO

“ you ready up there, pretty lady?” nanami’s soothing voice calls out from underneath you. his big and warm hands slides up and down on the outside of your thighs in soothing motions; when you fail to give him a quick enough response, he squeezes your thighs firmly before giving a kiss on the inside of them. “ you’re thinking about it too much. i just want you to sit this pretty pussy on my face and make a mess on me, ok?”

his hot breath fans over your cunt while he softly pep talks you as one would do with a child, and your knees slightly wobble with excitement. “ o-okay, kento…” your soft voice stutters out. slowly, you finally sink your pussy on nanami’s warm and awaiting mouth— not missing the way how his pupils dilates with lust.

he holds you still on his face before he captures your wet lips in a drawn out kiss, giving it another and another, only flattening his tongue when your thigh twitches with silent anticipation. “ oh… oh fuck, kento.”

you coo softly, fingers threading themselves in his blond parted hair. your brows furrow along with your jaw dropping when he gives your clit a long suck, it feels as if he’s draining out every last drop of slickness that you push out with his tongue.

briefly, he departs from your wet cunt to spread your lips with his thumbs. “ oh god. you’re soaking for me, baby. and to think you were nervous…” he chuckles softly as he smushes your wet lips together. you whine, the feeling your orgasm slip further from you, and it’s absolute torture.

“ k-kento… please.” he gives you crooked smile for the last time before diving back into your pussy. you feel him bring a sweet kiss to your cunt, departing to admire the twitching bud, then slurping it back into his mouth.

the sensation builds back up once again, and you feel a wave of heat flush over your body completely. you fist his hair for balance before grinding desperately against his face to get that heavenly release you deserve. he groans into your cunt, swaying his tongue in skilled directions.

“ oh g-god, yes kentooo!” a trail of spit dribbles down the corner of your mouth, the grinding of your hips nothing short of animalistic. he gives your clit a few nibbles and your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, with your back arching and eyes rolling far in the back of your skull.

coming down, you pant heavily as if you ran a marathon, thighs burning with sweet heat. you expect nanami to give up and let go of your thighs, but when his tongue showed no sign of stopping his abuse, you forcefully lift your dripping pussy hovering over his face. “ hah, i… i think i’m done, k-kento.”

your words fall on deaf ears. nanami turns his head to the side to give your thigh a series of soft kisses, his hands travel north and south, up your spine and down to the swell of your ass. “ think you can give me another one, pretty lady?” he asks.

it’s rather a demand than a question as he forcefully brings you back down to smother his mouth in your sweet nectar, once again.

☆ GETO SUGURU

geto’s home is basically between your thighs. his hunger for your pussy and reactions is limitless.

“ ‘m putting it back on your clit. girl… i don’t care if it’s too much.” he supports his words by cruelly running the vibrating object on the inside of your thigh— downright grinning at your body spasming weakly in front of him. “ you feel her waving at me? telling me she wants more… yeah, you can take it.”

he ignores your gravelly protests; faintly following the path from your thigh to your clit with the vibrating toy. once he’s finally above his target, he presses the toy against your overly sensitive bud making your body jolt upward.

“ suguruuuu! aah— it huurts! s-stop,” your voice shrieks as hot tears burn your eyes. the bastard is so calculated and cruel, he made sure to bound you to the bed by hands and feet; mimicking a starfish position, so you couldn’t run away.

through all your trembling, suguru reaches down with his other hand, slowly slipping two calloused fingers in your sex and deviously curling them upwards. smiling to himself when he feels your walls trap down and squeeze him in. “ yer’ such’a mess for me. it’s so fuckin adorable.” he coos, the sound is mocking to your ears.

everything is too much. you swear you can feel suguru’s fingers and the vibrator in your throat from how well they’re tormenting your worn body. his fingers are curling and forcing, and the vibrator is a constant reminder that your clit is beyond it’s sensitive point. it’s all just too much. all you wish to do is push him away and get the rest your body screams for— oh wait…

“ suguru!” you dumbly pant out with mascara mixed tears runnning down the apple of your burning cheeks. expression twisted in the face of dragged out slut and his name a mantra on your tongue. suguru gradually builds his speed up while circling the pink vibrator on your erect bud. the lewdly sound of squelching and buzzing is equal like a birds call to his ears. “ ‘m gonna cuuummm!”

“ and here i thought you didn’t want this. tch, you know how i feel about liars, girl.” he tuts. it’s so irritating. but you can’t deny the floating feeling when he talks down at you in such a manner. “ cum for me baby. i know you can take it, heh, feels like your sucking the feeling out my fingers.” he leans down close to your ear and you can’t deny the shiver that rocks through your body.

“ r-ru… please stop. i can’t… i don’t know if i—” your voice cuts off as your legs shake for one last time tonight. the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps as suguru forces this mind shattering orgasm from your fatigued body.

your mouth opens in a silent cry, clear fluids gush from your body and coats his strong forearm, your body arches up, and you swear you can see stars decorate the ceiling above. there’s a pause in the man’s actions, drinking in your cries and whimpers before everything just stops.

suguru switches the vibrator off and throws it across an unknown place in the room. he drags his fingers out your overly drenched sex, beginning to trace them up your stomach— until he notices your body is still. too still.

“ baby, baby? fuck… i overdid it again.”

☆ GOJO SATORU

gojo loves eating you out, especially in different positions; missionary, doggystyle, six-nine, face sitting— he doesn’t care. all that matters is his face is being pressed entirely against your cunt and inhaling your enchanting scent.

your ass is currently sitting on his upper arms, legs extended and crossed tightly over his shoulders. his strong arms holds you up steady against the wall, while his face is entirely pressed and mapping out the spot in between your thighs with no breaks of air.

your practically using his arms as your own personal chair.

“ satoru, t-take a break. your jaw… is gonna lock up— haaa!” you try to plead with the tall man, but no. satoru— not caring about his health, flattens his tongue against your labia before moving up onto your clit, only to tweak at it.

all pleas die down on your tongue as your pushed back once again into that wave of euphoria. your hands fly to his head, your fingers burrow deep in the soft matter.

there must’ve been something in the air tonight, seeing how you’ve been pressed against this wall for two orgasms straight. the muscles in your thighs flex, drawing him closer. satoru hums against your sopping pussy, sending vibrations through your body that has your eyes fluttering and lips trembling.

it’s implausible how well gojo knows your body. every long drag, tongue flick, and outdrawn suck seems to hit you in the all right places possible. undoubtedly making your legs go from limp to tensing, and body aching for more.

but, the overstimulation is all too much. from the ridiculous position obviously highlighting his size kink, and how his tongue has given you mind shattering orgasms. honestly, you don’t know better than to push him away or pull him closer.

“ shit! oh fuuuuck, m’close, m’so close!” you curse out loud, the build up to your orgasm making you act ravenous. with your hands buried in his hair, you grind your pussy more on his mouth, and satoru chases the taste. “ satoru! y-yes, right there!”

you pant out while instinctively clamping your walls around his tongue shoving itself in. he’s more determined than ever, messily tongue fucking you while kneading your ass in his big hands. how he manages to hold you up by your ass only, it’s still a wonder.

the orgasm explodes out of you so suddenly. you close your eyes and throw your head back. your throat burns from the gasp you hold back before you replace it with a pornographic moan. thighs trapping and squeezing hard around gojo’s head while your body is full on trembling.

finally, he comes up from your pussy, chin drenched in your sweet orgasm and his saliva. “ messy girl.”

it’s a known fact that, gojo satoru is hotter when silent. face first in your pussy especially.

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