#i whipped this up in an hour because I was up late making food for today but I hope everyone enjoys! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rassvetsky · 1 year

Note

would literally lose my fucking mind if you wrote carmy like touch starved, idk maybe everyone is staying after to celebrate something and he’s dragging you into his office to eat you out with absolutely zero shame because he needs it so bad

your wish is my lifelong quest i love you, hope i did it at least some justice loml

Carry You Away With Me

carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader

He looked sheepish for a moment, lips curling into a grin for another split second before returning to his natural expression, eyes finding yours and locking you into his gaze. "Do you think anyone would notice if I took you elsewhere right now?"

[4k] | chef ill be honest with you this is just porn, needy!carmy (he's fucking adorable), office sex if that's even a term, established relationship, cunningulus, unprotected sex, cum-play. my apologies to the church

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

It was around 11 when you returned to the restaurant with a bottle of champagne cradled in your arms, watching as Gary and Tina pushed a few tables together to make a bigger one for the rest. Eating together wasn't a rare occurrence, but it often only happened an hour before service in the morning— dinners were mostly had at home or skipped altogether, depending on the importance one put into their health. But tonight called for an after-hours get-together, one that Sydney and Marcus pushed for when Ebraheim showed up in the morning with the latest issue of Gastronomica, featuring a very familiar name this time around— Carmen Berzatto.

"You know— I bet you can like, make it to a Vogue issue sometime later on, too."

"That's not exactly food-related."

"I'm just saying, dream high and—"

The few clinks of a spoon against the glass cut Fak right off and Carmen made a mental note to thank god for that later on, his gaze lifting from the long, full table that everyone was surrounding to the source of the sound; the now-empty champagne glass that Richie held.

"Can we all take a moment to stop stuffing our faces with this whatever-the-fuck it is to congratulate my cousin right here?" he spoke up, bringing a smile to your lips as you reached for Carmen's hand from under the table and muttered out "chou à la crème", another dish that Marcus had been experimenting with lately. A short chuckle left Carmen's lips when he vaguely heard what you said, and he gave your hand a firm, appreciative squeeze before rubbing his thumb along the back of your palm. "Gastronomica isn't just any magazine. I think it's supposed to be one of the good ones, like—"

"—the Vogue of food!"

"Maybe! Who knows, anyway— really, I'm proud of this mess of a man and you all should be, too." and maybe this was the most affection that Richie could whip out in public, but it was more than enough— because despite his hate for having the spotlight directly on him, Carmen was currently busy offering a smile to Richie, which the other reciprocated shortly before sitting back down, his quiet little hum of affection drowned out by the mutterings of 'cheers' along with the clink of everyone's glasses.

Proud was an understatement for this little dysfunctional found-family.

But you knew Carmen, you knew that he'd much rather skip on the compliments and pats to the shoulder; and you were way too sure that he'd need a moment to himself sooner or later. That moment came almost fifteen minutes after, when everyone split themselves into a few groups of completely different conversations, scooped up chocolate sauce and cream and small pieces of the delicate pastry got left behind on the empty plates— you felt Carmy's fingers wrapping around your upper thigh, concealed by the dimmed out lights and the table.

"S'up?" you returned your attention to him upon feeling his fingers tapping along to some nonexistent rhythm on your clothed skin, not too invested in the story Richie was busy telling everybody with the loudest voice he could muster to begin with.

"Elsewhere?"

"Not too far, jus' my office. For a couple of minutes at most." he leaned in closer to your ear just so you could hear him over the 2012's pop playlist Manny whipped out earlier, a completely mesmerizing turn of events when he started singing along to a random Katy Perry song— but that leaning closer action proved Carmen to be just another self-saboteur because he was feeling specifically out of place all day and to feel your perfume so close was a pull with a force out of this world. He couldn't pull back away then, couldn't return to his own chair and you had no choice but to push him away manually. "I promise."

"Any ulterior motives I should be aware of?" you grinned, letting your fingers curl right over his own on your thigh— and making a mental note to ease him into the habit of using hand moisturizers regularly sometime, upon the roughed up feel of his skin.

"You wound me, baby." his expression seemed to linger over offense, but his eyes told a completely different story; and before you knew it, he was pushing his chair back to get up, patting Gary's shoulder on his way to the back of house, a momentary turn of his head just so he could silently tell you to follow with his eyes.

And that, you did, despite the raised eyebrows of Richie's that you met along the way.

The kitchen smelled like a different kind of citrus, one that only belonged in dishwashing detergents as you maneuvered through the stations, cleaned up from the day's worth of filth. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Carmen reaching behind to undo the strings of his navy apron, leaving out the top string that he'd have to pull over his head until you could catch up and he could get to the office. His shirt was, again, as pristine as ever and it was a work of magic how he managed to come back home with a perfectly clean white t-shirt each day, if not for a few little drops here and there.

Finally, he pushed open the door of his office for you and you stepped in, finding your way to his desk in the darkness to flip the switch of the small light that illuminated the paperwork mostly. When your eyes found him again, the apron was long gone— tucked away in a corner, folded, although not so neatly. "Happy now?"

Instead of a reply, he just plopped down on the old, squeaky chair by the desk, thighs spread and arms wide open to make space for you. You took the offer right away, seating yourself on one of his thighs but still balancing yourself on your feet too, in order to not just dump your whole body weight on him and potentially numb out his leg. He couldn't care less, as he wrapped himself around you tightly and pulled you closer. "I don't really give a shit about Gastronomica."

"I figured," you mumbled against the material of his shirt, lungs filling in with a scent that only he could carry— a surprisingly pleasant mix of cigarettes, sweat, and gravy. It belonged to him, at least. "When's the last time you gave a shit about anyone's opinion outside of here, anyway?"

A soft hum left his lips, one that feigned agreement— but he wasn't paying much attention to what you've been saying to begin with, mind all muddied with specific moments in time that included you. Come to think of it, he'd been like this all day, even when Richie jokingly smacked him across the face with the magazine or when Tina elbowed him while he was trying to explain why she had to strain the mixture twice to get a flowing consistency— on the back of his mind, there was always you; always the lack of time he got to spend with you when the rush hour got too much to bear and he couldn't bring himself to lift an arm when he came back home to you.

When was the last time he properly touched you, took his time to memorize all the little ridges and beauty spots across your body, he couldn't remember.

So as you spoke, listing out all the reasons why he should be proud of himself for all the accomplishments, Carmen's arm curled around your waist and his fingers found your thighs again, the warmth of his palm seeping through the material of your leggings and from the way they teased upwards, you knew where this was going. "... that you managed to turn— are you not listening?"

His smile was so smug that you wanted to either kiss, or slap him. "Not really. But go on."

"Carmy, if you actually think that I'll do anything non-churchy with you here while everyone's literally twenty feet away, you're so wrong." you breathed out, because that's all you could do when his lips ghosted over the side of yours, before trailing down to where your jawline met your neck. He only hummed as a reply, clearly not giving a shit about your opinion either at that moment— but to say that you weren't enjoying the attention would be a blatant lie.

His fingertips traced the seams outlining your underwear through the extra layer of fabric while his lips latched to your neck, finally, with his warm breath hitting against the sensitive skin and the usual wet nature of his kisses leaving behind a glistening spot of adoration. You leaned into it, rather shamelessly— legs parting and fingers carding through the locks on the nape of his neck, and that only encouraged him further, causing him to whisper out a curse and a few sloppy words of praise. "Just let me, hm? Please?"

The sense of desperation in his tone was enough to push back any words of disagreement that you could blurt out at that moment. You knew you had to power through, it would be so embarrassing and disrespectful to let him have his way with you right here, while everyone else was still at the FOH— but the way his palm covered your clothed core and his fingertips teased the slight outline of your slit, all while his pretty lips were oh so busy whispering absolute filth in your ear was slowly taking away all the care you had in the world. "Carm— not a good idea."

"You weren't saying that last week, right here," two weeks ago, to be exact, but you couldn't blame him for not being able to tell time apart. "Had to cover your mouth and all, s'loud for me—"

"You're getting carried away." you chuckled, the deepest of breaths still not enough for the capacity of your lungs as you tugged on his locks slightly, prying him off of your skin just so you could get a look at him.

"Let me carry you away with me. Please, fuck— I can't think of anything else when you're on my mind." he pulled away a little from your neck, eyes of pristine skies staring right at your soul with the expression of a kicked puppy— he knew exactly how to get his way when he was miserable like that. His fingers were still against your heat, expecting permission. "Ten minutes only, just let me touch you."

You could recognize that tone, that incurability way too well— it was often reserved for nights shared between hushed whispers of promises, where he was too needy to form a single thought and all he could do was to cover your body with his and curl onto you, to feel your warmth against himself and to be one body and one soul for an hour. Uncommon in nature, even rarer to take place in a room that he reserved for professional affairs only— but the heart wants what it wants.

To his surprise, you suddenly pushed your lips against his— letting his fever take over you as well, with your hands clutching onto his shoulders and hair. You could hear the slight groan escaping his lips when his fingers breached under the tight waistband of your leggings, pushing the material down slightly with the bend of his wrist before turning his hand a little to tug it all downwards, urging you up on your feet. You got up from where you were seated, now standing between his legs with your back bent just so your lips would be on his, but he broke the kiss with a smile that took over when he finally pulled down both articles of clothing at the same time. Your back straightened when he managed to push them both down to your ankles, your hands on his shoulders to help with your balance as you stepped out of them, feeling his moist lips over your abdomen for a second before he pushed you backwards slightly, towards the desk.

He took that momentary advantage to get up on his feet and pin you right in between his own body and the desk, hands blindly pushing the loose folders to the side. You felt too exposed when his palms gripped the underside of your thighs just to prop you up on the desk, lips finding and panting against yours, a clear indication of his need seeping through the way he tugged and nibbled before his tongue found its way to caress yours.

There was nothing nice about it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care— not when he whispered your name against the plush of your lips so sweetly when your fist closed around his hair, not when he didn't even know what to do with his hands; grabbing, fondling at every inch of your skin that he could reach shakily. He pulled you flush against his body, letting you get a feel of the harsh dark denim against your bare center and you had to bite into his lower lip to stay quiet, ultimately earning a groan from him when his hands slipped under your shirt.

"Bear," you whispered out, his lips chasing yours when you pulled away to speak— which made you chuckle quietly, as he looked at you again. "Ten minutes."

"Ten minutes," he parroted, the usually wide eyes of his now hooded, pupils blown out as if he was looking right at the sun. When you reached in to kiss him again, you couldn't catch him fast enough— he was already holding onto your thighs to crouch down, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin when you spread your legs a little further apart, a force of habit.

Leaning back on your palms against the desk as much as the cramped space could allow, you took a deep breath— but it wasn't enough to prepare you for what came next when his tongue trailed a bold line across your slit, spreading your folds apart gently. It was a pleasant routine, one that you never quite got used to; because when he was down on his knees with his tongue tracing abstract shapes across your clit in a teasing manner, it was all about you and to think that a guy who often rushed things and went through life at a 2x pace would slow down just to put all of his attention on your pleasure only was more delightful than any compliment one could attain.

Carmen's fingertips were perhaps digging into the skin of your thighs a bit too hard, but could you possibly complain? The tip of his tongue dipped between your folds to spread your essence upwards, a mix of his saliva and your wetness covering your clit when he closed his lips around it and sucked— letting out a blissed groan, one that he'd scold you for if you were the culprit. You could only imagine how hard he must've been at that moment, he was always a sucker for situations like this, with the thrill of doing something so forbidden, right where he could be caught and your taste on his tongue, thighs on either side of his shoulders.

Imagining it didn't help your situation at all, it was hard to focus on one coherent thought when he kept flicking his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves but you forced through— with the thought of the blunt tip of his length all flushed and leaking in your palm, curses leaving his soft lips whenever your fingers got a bit too tight around the girth. He liked it when you put your focus there, tip of your tongue tracing the slit and leaving kisses over it while the rest of your palm jerked him off— firm and slow.

And you'd always let your lips stray when he got close, deciding to suddenly bite into the skin of his inner thighs or to lightly trace his perineum with your tongue, just to have him reduced to a writhing, whining mess with not enough air to survive in his lungs. He'd spill onto your fingers and you'd clean him up right away, moving your way upwards with wet little kisses until you reached his lips. And he was one dirty fucker because tasting himself on you when you kissed him all sloppily was probably one of his favorite things in the world.

Drowned out in all the thoughts, you didn't notice how close you were until your thighs were shaking around his shoulders, and he finally added his fingers into the mix then— his middle and ring fingers easily breaching through, grazing all of your sensitive spots from the inside. You had to press your palm against your mouth to not let a sound then, when your climax finally hit you, and you'd probably slide right off the table with how quaky your whole body was at that moment if it wasn't for Carmen's strong grip on your body, holding you right where you belong.

The position was a bit merciless on his legs so far but he made it up to his feet again, giving you a light peck on your lips before his fingers found his mouth, his tongue circling the digits to clean them up as he stared right at you, into your soul. He pulled them out with a slight pop, and licked his lips clean. "How long did we take?"

"I don't know," you panted out. "I was busy imagining the way you come."

His light laughter brought a tender, yet bittersweet ache to your heart. "Fuck, you get off to that?" and you could tell him all about just how beautiful he was, and how much it turned you on to see him blissed out in pleasure— but you didn't know if your lung capacity allowed for it at that moment, as being quiet came with the benefit of holding your breath for longer than you should. "Tell me more."

You giggled against his lips when he braced himself on the desk with his two hands holding onto the edge on both sides of your thighs. Both of your hands moved down to the front of his pants, too fucked out to care about timing as you palmed him through the material just to see that grin on his lips falter. "I'm gonna make you jack off and watch sometime." you mumbled, slowly pulling the zipper down after setting him free from the belt and the button. He hummed, forehead to forehead, before reaching for another little peck.

"As much as I don't see why I should jack off while you're in front of me," he spoke, a sharp intake of breath cutting his line of thought halfway through when your fingers finally wrapped around his cock. "but— shit, if you're into that… Only if you do it w'me, though. I wanna watch too."

"You don't get to watch." you sighed, bringing him closer with your legs to line his length up with your entrance. "You're just gonna sit there and come on your hand like a loser."

Carmen couldn't help the short snort that left him. "Are you even capable of being mean to me?"

"Mm-hm, I'm very mean when I wanna be." and right after that, his tip slid right into your cavern, pulling a deep exhale from both of you when he pushed a bit deeper. His lips found yours, mostly to keep the noises at bay while his hips rolled into yours, grinding against you before retreating a little, only to push in harder this time around.

You felt so full and blessed that you didn't even have to imagine anything to get lost in the feeling.

His pants slid further downwards with each thrust until they pooled around his ankles and your thighs wrapped tighter around his body, trapping him in. His arms were so delicately wrapped around your waist that you had to hold onto him with your whole remaining power to not slide further towards the wall, but he couldn't exactly notice that when he was feeling so damn lucky, whole length wrapped in a warmth beyond his comprehension.

And again, you couldn't blame him, because neither of you managed to notice when the skin slapping against skin got a bit too loud, and your lips pulled away from his just to breathe out the filthiest little nothings, like how much you needed him to fill you right up to the brim. "Fuck, give it to me." your hips met his thrusts half-way through when you pushed yourself against him. "Carmy, come inside me, please."

"Yeah? Are you gonna take it all?" his voice sounded broken, and his fingers would surely leave imprints on your hips with how tight his grip was. "Won't let you waste a drop, baby. I won't."

Somehow, through how feral he was with the way you were begging him, the responsible side came forward and captured your lips in his again— because while his team was full of respectful people, they were also little shits who would never live it down if they heard those beautiful sounds that escaped your lips with each hit of his blunt head against your sweet spot. The thought somehow egged him on further— he couldn't exactly decide if he was too possessive to let anyone hear or if he was possessive enough to make sure everyone knew he belonged to you, but at that moment, both of those thoughts turned him on too much, enough for him to feel his high approaching. And judging by the way your walls cramped down on him tighter with each passing second, you weren't too far behind.

You could feel yourself gushing around him, coating both of you in your essence beyond simple cleaning, but that was a matter to worry about later, not when the love of your life was balls-deep inside of you, his rough grunts right against your ear when he reached to press his lips right below it. "Close?" he mumbled, and even though your mind was too busy to hear and comprehend him properly, you nodded— feeling his arms wrapping around you tighter, pulling you closer to the warmth his body provided. And while as much as you'd like to keep this going for longer, witnessing his pace falter and voice break as he moaned out your name, filling you up in the most delicious way slowly was enough to have your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, and to have the knot finally snap.

Your whole body was buzzing, shaky even when he held you so tight against his chest as if you'd vanish right there and then— something that he always did after sex, no matter the circumstance. You giggled wearily against his shoulder, leaving a few kisses here and there before he pulled away slightly to pull you into a kiss— nothing like the ones you shared in the past minutes, this one was all sweet and loving. "Might drip if I pull out."

"You can't stay there forever, Carm."

"Oh, but I want to." he huffed out but still moved to slowly pull out of you anyway, having you both hiss in sensitivity and just like he thought, his come was ready to spill all over the place. Quick-thinker in nature, he caught his seed with his fingers right before they could go further, pushing them back into you just to hear you gasp— and slap his shoulder playfully.

"You're a fucking freak."

"Shut up— round two at my place? Kinda wanna see where that watching me jerk off fantasy of yours might lead us."

a/n: once again i could be easily manipulated into breaking into your house with a part two, who knows

also @carmensberzattos consider this a marriage proposal

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto fic #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff

6K notes · View notes

joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

what he didn’t do

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You’re very recently divorced, but that doesn’t stop a certain handsome, brown-eyed neighbor from taking you out on a date.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. divorced reader, no massive age gap (no specific age is mentioned, but reader is in her early 30’s and Joel is 35) slow burn, 10 year crush kind of deal. reader talks about her past relationship. mentions of food and alcohol. soft, caring Joel. first date fluff.

word count: 5.1k

a/n: so um how are we all doing after today, we still alive out there? 👀 no one asked for this, this fic is purely self indulgent, my lonely single ass is convinced that pre out break Joel would be just the most amazing gentleman on a date, he would be so perfect and just take the best care of you and treat a girl right…so here is what i whipped up.

He’ll treat me right, put me first, be a man of his word

stay home ‘cause he wanted to

always fight for my love

hold on tight like it’s something that he can’t stand to lose

Joel wasn’t all too sure how it even happened.

Earlier that afternoon, he’d gone on over to your place to deliver a piece of mail that the postman had accidentally put in his mailbox instead of yours. While Joel was there, you’d kindly asked him if he could recommend a good plumber that you could call because you had a stubborn leak under the kitchen sink that you needed to get looked at sooner rather than later. Wanting to save you both the hassle and the expense of having to hire someone, Joel had told you to hang tight for a minute and rushed back over to his house, only to return with his yellow toolbox in hand so that he could fix it for you, which he’d done in fifteen minutes flat—and now, just a few hours later into the evening, he was getting himself ready to take you out to dinner.

And the real fucking kicker of it all was that he had been the one to ask you out, proposing the offer while his head had been buried in the cabinet underneath your leaking kitchen sink. At least that way, if you had rejected him, you wouldn’t have been able to see the look of complete and utter embarrassment on his face. But much to Joel’s surprise, not to mention, his relief, you’d eagerly accepted the invitation and even suggested tonight would be the perfect night if he didn’t have prior plans or commitments.

Hell, even if Joel did have prior plans or commitments, he would have canceled them for you without a single ounce of hesitation.

He’d discovered he would do just about anything for you.

Joel shrugged into the light tan, button up shirt that Sarah had helped him pick out earlier just before he’d jumped in the shower. At thirteen, she lived with her nose buried in fashion magazines lately and she didn’t trust him to successfully choose a proper outfit for the occasion on his own without guidance. It had been well over a few years since Joel had been on a date, as she had so kindly pointed out to him while she’d rummaged around through his mess of a closet. Although he insisted that it wasn’t a date, his teenager had scoffed and called him out on his bullshit. “Well, what else do you do you call it when two single adults go out to dinner together alone?” Sarah had challenged him as she held up a couple of different shirts up against his chest, searching for the perfect one. “Especially when one of those two adults has had the most obvious crush on the other one for what, like ten freaking years now?”

“It wasn’t that obvious,” he’d muttered to her in response. Peering at her curiously, he couldn’t help himself as he had asked her, “Was it?”

“Dad, your crush on her has been about as subtle as a brick to the face.” Letting out a huge laugh, Sarah had shoved the shirt she’d selected into his hands and tossed the losers right back into his closet. “Here, wear this one with those dark jeans, the bootcut ones. Don’t roll up the sleeves like you always do. And for the love of all that is holy, at least make an attempt to run a comb through that hair of yours,” she’d advised on her way out the door, leaving him to it.

Joel sighed and buttoned up the shirt, then tugged on his dark blue jeans and a pair of black leather boots—the only pair he owned that weren’t totally worn down to the soles. He finished getting dressed and proceeded to roll up the long sleeves of his shirt up to the middle of his forearms, tucking in the cuffs as neatly as he could. He could already hear his daughter scolding him over it, but screw it, Joel wanted to be comfortable, especially now that warmer weather had arrived in Austin.

After rubbing just the slightest hint of his favorite sandalwood cologne on his neck and on the insides of his wrists, Joel finally left his bedroom and made his way downstairs, trying his absolute hardest to pay no mind to the nerves that were threatening to creep up on him. He entered the living room where he found Tommy sitting on the couch with Sarah, a plastic blue bowl of popcorn nestled between the two of them. Sarah, who had been busy shuffling through a stack of movies in her lap, looked up when she heard him walk into the room and narrowed her green eyes at him. “Come on, man! What did I say earlier about the sleeves?”

“You told me not to roll ‘em up. But I chose not to listen to you,” Joel quipped, eliciting an annoyed sigh from her.

Tommy smirked at him. “So motherfucker, you finally did it, huh? You finally asked her out on a date.” His smirk widened. “Only had to wait, what, about ten fuckin’ years?”

Joel glared at his younger brother. “How did you even—?” He stopped abruptly and his dark brown eyes flickered over to Sarah, who shot him a guilty smile from where she sat. “Really? You just had to tell him?”

“Sorry,” she apologized, sheepishly. “It slipped.”

“Damn, big brother. Y’know, word on the street is that she just signed the divorce papers at the courthouse earlier this week,” Tommy remarked, taking a swig from his bottle of Lone Star as he leaned back into the couch. “You’ve got some real big fuckin’ balls to ask a freshly divorced woman out on a date that quick. I’ve gotta admit that I’m actually pretty fuckin’ impressed with you, Joel. Didn’t think you’d have it in you.”

“It ain’t a date,” Joel muttered out the lie, picking up his keys from the coffee table. “We’re just goin’ out to dinner is all.”

“That’s a date,” Tommy and Sarah stated together in unison.

Joel let out a heavy sigh, deciding that it was better for him to ignore their antics rather than to play into them. “You.” He pointed an index finger at Sarah. “Might not be school night, but I don’t want you stayin’ up too late. And you.” He turned his attention to Tommy. “I don’t want you havin’ any of your little female friends over while I’m out tonight, especially not while Sarah is home. That understood?”

“Yes dad,” both their voices chirped together once again.

Rolling his eyes, Joel bid them a quick goodnight and left the house, making his way across the lawn and over to your place. You lived in the smaller, single story yellow house right next door to his.

You’d moved in next to Joel and Tommy several years ago—Sarah had still been a toddler then and he had just started getting used to life as a single father. Joel would never forget the first time that he laid his eyes on you. He had been in his driveway, taking a look under the hood of his old truck, a hunk of garbage Ford Ranger from the nineties that he’d finally gotten rid of a couple years back and replaced with a Chevrolet Silverado instead; it hadn’t been much of an upgrade, but at least it didn’t break down on him as often. Joel had noticed a moving van in the driveway of the house next door, but he hadn’t given it a second thought. He had been so engrossed in what he’d been doing, but at some point, he looked up from the engine and turned his head at the precise moment that you happened to walk by with a cardboard box in your arms. You’d caught his gaze and offered him what had to be the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his entire fucking life. Joel had just set his wrench down and was about to head over to offer you some help when a man emerged from the back of the moving van with another box. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek as he led the way into the house.

Turns out, that man had been your husband.

To say Joel had been sorely disappointed by the fact that you were married had been an understatement to say the least.

It hadn’t taken all too long before Joel met his new neighbors, although he often saw more of you than he ever saw your husband—the man traveled across the country for business and he would be gone for several days, even several weeks at a time. You were a homemaker and to help make life a little less mundane, you’d started something of a daycare in your home, offering to help fellow neighbors who needed someone to watch their younger children during their nine to five work schedules.

When Joel found himself putting in a brutal number of hours in at his construction job, he had struggled to find someone who was willing to look after his then three year old for such extended periods of time. You’d happily volunteered to help him out and you would watch Sarah from sunrise to about sundown for him without a problem. When she started kindergarten two years later, you continued to help Joel out, going as far as taking her to school for him and then picking her up afterwards. You’d never had any children of your own, but you still had maternal instincts, and as Sarah grew up, whenever she would need a woman’s guidance, she would go straight to you without hesitation and you were always there for her no matter what, no questions asked.

Joel couldn’t have been more grateful for you.

He’d seen and spoken to you just about every day for the last decade—he’d even go as far as saying that the two of you were good friends, though since day one, he found himself longing for a hell of a lot more than just your friendship. Joel had thought he would have to shove his true feelings for you down for the rest of his natural born life, that is, until several months ago when he’d noticed the moving truck parked in your driveway one late afternoon as he and Sarah came home from one of her soccer games. Nearly in tears, Sarah had immediately hopped out of the pickup before Joel could even cut the engine and ran over, demanding to know why you hadn’t told her that you were moving—that’s when you fessed up and explained to her that you weren’t going anywhere, but your husband was.

Through whispers in the neighborhood, Joel discovered that you had filed for divorce and although no one knew the exact reason why, many suspected it had been your husband’s constant traveling for work that had done it. Denise, the nosy blonde woman who lived across the street from him swore up and down that he must have had some kind of adulterous affair behind your back—Joel simply told her she needed to lay off her dramatic daytime soap operas.

Regardless of the reason why, you were now officially single.

And Joel was taking you out to dinner.

Whether it was an actual date or not, that hadn’t exactly been established.

He made it up the front porch and inhaled a deep breath, exhaling it slowly through his nose before he knocked on your front door. When you opened it just a few seconds later, all of the wind had been knocked out of his lungs by an invisible force.

You wore a sky blue sundress with a sweet, white floral pattern printed all over it. Thin straps tied together at your shoulders and the hem of the skirt fell right to the middle of your thighs revealing a lot more of your silky smooth legs than he had ever seen before. You’d kept your makeup fairly light, and your hair fell loosely and naturally around your shoulders. Joel noticed you wearing a silver necklace, a butterfly pendant hanging from the chain. He recognized it, because he’d bought it for you, although it was Sarah who had gotten all the credit. She had given it to you as a gift for your birthday that passed by a few months ago.

“Hey!” You beamed at him. “You’re right on time.”

“Hey.” Joel swallowed dryly. “You look really beautiful.”

You smiled shyly. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself,” You returned the compliment, admiring the way the sleeves of his shirt hugged his biceps. “I have to hand it to you, you definitely clean up well, Joel.”

“Next time that you see Sarah, you’d best thank her. She deserves the credit,” he stated, eliciting a small laugh from you. “Are you all ready to go?”

You nodded, grabbing your purse and keys from the small glass table beside the door. You stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind you; after making sure that you’d locked it properly, you followed Joel across your front lawn and over towards his driveway. He led you to the passenger’s side of his dark blue Silverado and opened the door for you, holding his hand out to help you climb up into the seat. The gesture prompted you to shoot him a strange look.

He frowned a little. “What’s the matter?”

“No, nothing,” You quickly assured him. You placed your hand in his larger one, the contact causing a jolt of electricity to shoot up the length of your spine.

Joel helped you up into the truck and closed the door before making his way around the front of the vehicle and climbing into the driver’s seat. He shoved the key into the ignition and the pickup roared to life. He watched as you put on your seatbelt and then reached out, giving it a tug to make sure you were buckled in well enough. “Just makin’ sure you’re safe is all,” he uttered softly as you tossed him another puzzled glance. He reached over his shoulder for his own seatbelt and buckled it in before finally pulling out of the driveway.

Out of his peripheral vision, Joel could see you wringing your hands together in your lap in something of an anxious manner—were you nervous?

In an effort to comfort you and ease the nerves, Joel reached out and turned up the volume of the radio. He normally kept it on his favorite country station and was just about to ask what station you preferred when you let out a tiny, excited gasp and turned to him, a radiant smile breaking out onto your face.

“Oh, I love this song!” You told him, bringing your hands together in an enthusiastic clap. You then started singing along to the familiar lyrics. “Heads Carolina, tails California, somewhere greener, somewhere warmer, up in the mountains, down by the ocean—”

Joel turned briefly, raising an eyebrow at you. “Nineties country fan, huh?”

“Duh,” You replied playfully. “Nineties were and will probably always be the golden age of country.”

He grinned, turning his attention back onto the road. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Biting back another smile at his words, you turned to look out of the window, nodding your head and tapping your foot along to the beat of the song as you watched the streets of Austin pass by in a blur of lights and people.

Joel had chosen to take you to Antonio’s, a locally owned Italian place that was somewhere between casual and upscale dining. “Wait,” he told you, noticing you reaching for the door handle as soon as he’d parked in front of the restaurant. He jumped out of the driver’s seat and walked around, opening the door for you. Just like when he’d helped you into the truck back at his house, he offered you a hand to help you out of it. He kept his dark brown eyes on your feet, making sure you that didn’t fall or lose one of the brown sandals you were wearing. “Careful.”

“Thank you,” You said kindly to him as he closed the door behind you. Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt him place his hand on the small of your back as he ushered you inside of the restaurant where a hostess led you to a small, round table out in the back patio. You thanked her and reached for your chair, but Joel instantly stopped you.

“Let me,” he insisted, pulling it out for you. He helped you into the chair and noticed you give him another strange look, similar to the ones you’d given him when he’d helped you into the truck and when he’d checked your seatbelt. “Why do you keep lookin’ at me like that? Do I have somethin’ on my face or what?” He asked jokingly as he took his seat across from you.

You hesitated, but then confessed, “I’ve never had someone pull my chair out for me. I’ve never had someone open the car door for me or make sure I’m wearing my seatbelt.” You offered him a small, sheepish smile. “You don’t know how nice that is, Joel.”

Joel stared at you in complete disbelief.

Before he could say anything, a younger waitress appeared at the table to take yours and his orders for beverages. “I’ll just have a cabernet, please,” You ordered, politely. Not wanting to be the asshole who ordered a beer at an Italian place, Joel asked her for a glass of red wine too. She returned moments later with the drinks and then offered to take your orders for food. Both you and Joel decided on a chicken penne pasta dish that looked absolutely delicious. As soon as the waitress took your menus and disappeared back inside, you looked up at Joel and noticed his eyes were fixed intently on you. You felt a slight heat flood your face. “What is it?”

“Nothin’,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders innocently. “You just look really beautiful, that’s all.”

“You said that already,” You reminded him, letting out a breathless little laugh.

“I know.” Joel picked up his glass of wine. He took a quick sip before adding, “But someone as pretty as you deserves to hear it over and over again.”

The night went by fast, much too fast.

One minute, you were both enjoying your dinner and digging into delicious pasta, and the next, the table had been cleared completely, and so had all the other tables surrounding you—you two were the very last patrons in the restaurant. You and Joel had been so lost in conversation that neither of you had realized it was almost eleven and the restaurant was about to close in five minutes.

“We’ve been sitting here talking for three hours,” You gasped lightly.

Joel chuckled. “Time flies when you’re in great company.”

You looked the bill on the table, which the waitress had dropped off over an hour ago, and reached for it, but Joel was quick to snatch it away from you.

You pinned him with a stern look. “Come on, Joel! You fixed my kitchen sink for free, paying for dinner is the least I could do—”

“A lady never pays on a date.”

Your lips parted slightly in pleasant surprise. “Oh. So this is a date?”

Joel laughed as dug his brown leather wallet out from the pocket of his jeans. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. But I still ain’t lettin’ you pay.”

“I do.” You told him softly after a minute. “I do want it to be a date,”

Joel’s eyes met yours across the table and he smiled, looking relieved. “Good. ‘Cause I would’ve been kinda crushed if you’d said otherwise.”

He dropped a couple of twenty dollar bills on the table and stood up. He noticed you about to do the same when he shot you a warning glare.

“Oh. Right.” You giggled and waited until he stood up and held his hand out to you, helping you out of your chair.

As the two made your way out of the restaurant and out to his truck, Joel didn’t let your hand go.

“Thank you again for inviting me out to dinner tonight,” You said sweetly as Joel walked you up the porch steps to your front door. You rummaged through your purse and pulled out your house keys, pausing for a brief moment as you peered shyly up at him through your eyelashes. “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

Joel’s heart skipped an anxious, but eager beat. “I think I’d really like that.”

You turned back to your door and your hand trembled slightly as you jammed the key into the keyhole to unlock it and judging by the way Joel let out a soft chuckle beside you, you were certain that he’d noticed it. You pushed the door open, closing it behind you once the two of you had slipped inside. Setting your purse and keys down, you gestured for him to follow you into your living room where you nodded for him to have a seat on the dark blue velvet couch before you walked towards the kitchen. “What’s your poison?” You called out to him over your shoulder as you began rummaging around in your cabinets for two glasses.

“I’m partial to scotch,” he called back. He then added, “If you’ve got it, of course”

“How do you take it?”

“Neat’s just fine.”

You giggled as you prepared a glass of scotch for him and a glass of red wine for yourself. “Oh you’re just so classy, aren’t you Miller?” Before anything, you did a quick mirror check in the stainless steel toaster on the kitchen counter, making sure that not a single hair was out of place. You then took a deep breath, picked up the glasses, and walked back out into the living room. Handing Joel his glass, you took a seat beside him on the couch; you sat close to him, so close that his arm was pressed against yours. Somehow that wasn’t even remotely close enough. You wanted to be closer and hoped he felt the same.

“By the way, thank you again for fixing the sink for me,” You told him after taking a sip of your wine. “You probably saved me a couple hundred bucks.”

“Oh, it’s nothin’ really,” Joel reassured you. He nudged your arm. “If you ever need me to take a look at anythin’ around the house, please don’t hesitate to call me. I don’t want you reachin’ out to plumblers and electricians, those crooks will see a sweet little lady like yourself and see nothin’ but fuckin’ dollar signs. I don’t want anyone takin’ advantage of you, so when you’ve got a problem, you call me first alright?”

You gazed down into the burgundy depths of your glass, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I really appreciate that, Joel.” You brought yourself to look up at him, admitting, “Now that I’m living alone, it worries me. Having to take care of this house all by myself.”

Joel gripped his glass tightly, a hesitant expression on his face. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. And if it offends you in any way, you’re more than welcome to just give me a good kick in the—”

“Joel!” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. “Just ask me the damn question already.”

“What happened between you two?”

The smile on your face faded away, but you didn’t seem upset at him. “Well, what all have you heard?”

Taking a sip of his scotch, Joel shrugged. “Couple of rumors here and there, but I ain’t the type to believe in gossip. Would rather hear the truth from the source.”

“What did Mrs. Adler have to say about it?”

He snorted into his glass. “That you two probably could have saved your marriage had you just gone to church.”

You couldn’t help but laugh—Mrs. Adler was nice enough, but that woman could really be something else. She was always telling people they had to get right with Jesus.

“So?” Joel prompted you. “What did he do?”

You sighed and turned your body slightly, angling it towards his. “He did quite a bit. Put me through hell, to be honest with you. But you know, I’m not the type to air someone’s dirty laundry. So, I’m not going to tell you what he did.” You paused, your fingers lightly tapping the sides of your glass. “But I’ll tell you what he didn’t do.”

Joel nodded silently, but in understanding.

“He didn’t treat me right. He didn’t treat me the way I deserved. He never wanted to spend time with me. He never wanted to be home with me, which is all I ever wanted from him. He’d travel so much for work, and when he would finally come back after being away, I would be so excited to just be with him.” You scoffed bitterly at the thought of it. “The minute he landed, he would drop his luggage off and head straight to some bar with his buddies. All I’d want is for him to just stay in with me for a night, watch a movie with me, talk with me because I missed him so much while he was gone. But he never chose me. He would never put me first, no matter how many times I asked.” You shrugged and leaned over, setting your glass of wine down on the wooden coffee table before leaning back into the couch. “It probably sounds really stupid but—”

Joel placed a hand on your bare knee, causing your flesh to erupt in goosebumps. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

Finding a bit of courage, you placed your hand on top of his and continued on, “He never made me feel like I was someone worth fighting for, you know? Like my love was something worth fighting for. He made me feel like nothing, Joel. It got to the point where sometimes I believed it—I felt like I was nothing.”

Joel gave your knee a gentle squeeze. “I sure as hell hope you don’t feel that way now,” he said, his lips tugging down into a frown. “Because you’re fuckin’ everythin’.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his and you had to silently remind yourself to breathe.

Leaning over, Joel set his glass down on the coffee table right beside yours. He turned to you and lifted his hand, touching the side of your face, his thumb delicately sweeping over the silky skin of your cheek. “A woman like you deserves the world and nothin’ less. You know that, don’t you?”

“Joel?” You whispered out his name, your heart racing in your chest at a rate that you were certain had to be much too fast for the human body to withstand.

“Yeah?”

“Can you please kiss me?”

Joel’s hand cradled your face gingerly as he obliged, leaning in so his lips could meet yours in the kiss that he’s been aching to give you for the last yen years. He was gentle and he was sweet with it, but after a minute, he found himself lightly nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth, silently asking permission for more. He felt your lips part slightly against his and he eagerly deepened the embrace, his hand moving to the back of your head while his other found your bare knee again.

Another wave of courage washed over you and you placed your two hands on his chest, pushing him back against the soft, velvet fabric of your couch. You swung a leg over both of his and straddled his lap, your hands now clutching fistfuls of his shirt.

Joel’s own hands went to your hips and he groaned into your kiss.

You pulled away from him, the tip of your nose lightly touching his as the two of you struggled to catch a breath.

“Let me be the one to treat you the way you deserve,” he murmured after a minute, lifting one of his hands to brush your hair back behind your shoulder; his fingertips lightly brushed against the strap of your dress, and it took every ounce of strength he had in him not to pull it down your arm. “Just give me the chance and I’ll hang the moon for you, darlin’—hell, for you I’ll hang the entire fuckin’ galaxy.”

Your heart swelling at his words, you grinned just before pressing your mouth to his once again.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Joel chuckled with a smile against your lips.

You clung to him with fervor, kissing him with a passion that had the both of you seeing stars. Your hands were everywhere, touching, feeling anything part of him you could, eliciting another groan from him as you started grinding down into his lap. Your fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more.

“Whoa, whoa.” Joel caught both your hands in his and let out a breathless laugh. “Hey. Slow down, sweetheart.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Oh I’m sorry, I-I thought you wanted—"

“Oh I do want it, trust me. Pretty sure you can feel how much I want it.” Joel chuckled again, knowing damn good and well that you could feel how hard he’d become for you as you sat in his lap. His hands toyed with the hem of your sundress. “Seein’ you in this dress all night, trust me I want nothin’ more than to have you right here, right now. But I like you way too fuckin’ much to risk messin’ this up by movin’ too fast.”

You pouted at him.

“Oh c’mon darlin’ put that lip away.” Joel lifted his hand, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. “All I’m sayin’ is that we ain’t gotta rush this. Trust me, you’ve got me hooked already and I don’t plan on goin’ anywhere, alright?”

You almost groaned out in frustration.

He just had to be a fucking gentleman when it came to sex, too.

You sighed in defeat, resting your hands lightly on his chest. “Fine,” You relented with a tiny eye roll, causing him to grin in amusement. You playfully poked his sternum. “But if you don’t fuck me senseless by the third date, we’re going have a problem, Miller.”

Joel groaned, feeling himself grow even harder at the way such a filthy statement had come out of a woman with the face of an angel. “Keep talkin’ like that and you’re goin’ to make it impossible for me to wait that long.”

“Maybe that’s the goal,” You winked at him.

“Just stop talkin’ and c’mere.” He pulled you forward, fusing your mouth to his once again.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pre outbreak!joel #joel miller x original character #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller tlou #joel miller hbo

3K notes · View notes

macfrog · 6 months

Text

you'll hurt me if you don't trust me sex on fire chapter eight

super special sparkly shoutout to @chloeangelic ✨💛✨ whose influence inspired a whole load of intimacy in this. it is, unashamedly, eleven thousand words of sheer self-indulgence. so. love u guys. see u soon

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you’re unwell. joel makes you feel better. until he doesn’t.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, cursing, sugardaddy!joel, softsoftsoft!joel, they eat chinese food together, reader has her period + mention/description of used tampon, discussion of abandonment/absent parents & parental death, discussion of cheating, lying, thigh riding, unprotected piv period shower sex (that is a mouthful thatswhatshesaid), VERY needy reader, SLIGHT dacryphilia (kinda not really?), creampie, aftercare joel, praise kink, daddy kink, angst & fluff & angst all over again

word count: 11k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

Martha had been pretty good about it. She’d watched you near-doubled in pain most of yesterday, hobbling to the kitchen every four hours to top up on pain meds. She knew you weren’t making it up. She made a conservative two jokes about you calling in this morning, and then told you to rest up. She’d let Joel know you’d be back tomorrow.

“You owe me, though. Joel’s got that shareholders meeting today. If I’m forced to sit in with him ‘n his cronies talkin’ numbers and takin’ notes, sweetheart, all so you can catch up on The Bachelorette…”

Alright. Three jokes.

You hang up and slide the phone back across your nightstand; roll over and stuff a pillow between your thighs as if that’ll do anything against the dull throb gnawing at your belly. Your shades are tilted upward, shrinking your bedroom into a foggy gray save for the shards of light which split across the ceiling.

There’s a heavy ache tugging behind your eyes, an irritating weight which shoves you into the arms of sleep and then pulls you back by the hair before you’re taken off by it. You’re dozing, fingertips massaging your eyelids and stretching the skin back and forth when the doorbell slices the stillness of your apartment in two, shrill in your sleep-deprived ears.

You ignore it at first. Fuck that. Fuck whoever that is. You’re not planning on leaving your cocoon today unless it’s to go pee, grab a snack, or maybe if you lose the remote in your sheets.

But it rings out again. Twice, this time. And in a blur of hormonal rage, you whip the sheets back, throw yourself out of bed and stagger down the hallway. You straighten up only enough to peer through the peephole, your palms pressed to the back of the door, and that’s when you see him.

He’s cradling a brown bag in his left arm, a second dangling from his wrist. His head is huge in comparison to his body, owing to the distorted fisheye glass. He shifts from foot to foot impatiently, awkwardly glancing down the hall. You’d recognize that jawline fucking anywhere.

Your breath pushes nervously against the door. You click the lock and curl around the heavy wood, your fingers clamping on the edge.

The two of you eye one another up and down before Joel speaks.

“Hi, darlin’.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Martha said you were sick?”

You pause. Look down to the bunch of wild flowers sat in the crook of his elbow, and then back up to his face, painted with – what is it – concern? There are lines you rarely see when he’s looking at you, carved deep between his brows.

A fire strikes in your belly.

“…I’m fine. I’m – I’m all good. Just – feeling a little…”

“What is it? Is it the flu? I brought flu stuff.” He nods into the bag, and reaches inside for a box of cold tablets and a pack of tissues. He tosses them across the threshold and you catch them, holding them close against your shoulder.

You smile, trying to hold back on a laugh, but also because what the fuck? He’s so sweet. The flames lick at the bottom of your lungs.

“It’s not…it’s not the flu, no.”

Joel nods, looking back into the bag. “Good thing I also brought these, then.”

He tilts it forward and you unhook from the door, leaning over to peer in. A box of Tampax, two bottles of painkillers, green packets of face masks and floral sachets of herbal teas. You fish one out.

“Chamomile,” you muse, pouting.

He shrugs. “Lady at the store said it’s a good muscle relaxant, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have a meeting today?”

“Cancelled it. You freaked me out.”

Your heart knocks on your chest wall. Did you fucking hear that? You freaked him out. You gulp in response. Swallow hard to shut it the hell up.

“So, Martha’s in the office by herself?”

“She’s a big girl. Told her she could leave early if she got my to-do list done. I give it until one,” he mutters, glancing down at his watch. “Oh,” he says then, spotting the brush of green and burst of purple in his arm, “got you these. I don’t know what you like yet, but…”

Yet. Yet yet yet.

You take the posy delicately between your fingers, as if it might fall apart at the mere touch of your hand. The brown paper crinkles as it lifts from Joel’s arm, and you tilt them in the hallway’s milky light.

The sprigs shoot in wild directions, tangling and twisting around one another. Daisies, lazy in their climb, swirling around the gentle brush of lavender, wrapped tightly to some other flower you don’t recognize. They’re tied together in a neat, white lace bow.

You imagine Joel stood in the middle of some fragrant florist, rotating on the spot. Dumbfounded before some assistant in a flowing skirt and tinkling bracelets sweeps over to him. I don’t know what she likes – yet, he tells them. And your heart screams into the pillow of muscle surrounding it.

“Thank you.” The smile on your lips threatens to break into a grin. At the same time, a shot of pain rips across your belly. “Come in,” you groan through a wince, taking his shirt in your fist and pulling him inside.

Your apartment is probably a couple years too small for you. You’ve accumulated so much in the time you’ve lived here that you could do with finding a bigger place – but you’re comfortable. It feels like home, when nowhere did for so long. It’s snug, and humble, and as you lead him down your hallway, you imagine you’re feeling how Joel probably did when he showed you around his childhood home.

Your cheeks flush with something a little blunter than embarrassment, but prickled with nerves. Your living room rolls its eyes inward, every object looking over in suspicion and wonder. Who the hell is this man, in your space, armed with toiletries and a ten-grand watch on his wrist?

You pause by the sink, filling a glass with water for the flowers. Your teeth bite down on your lip. There are dishes on the counter, there’s laundry piled on stools, blankets and cushions strewn messily across your couch. Joel shakes his head when you apologize, holds a palm up when you try to explain how you’d gotten home from work last night and gone straight to bed. I haven’t had the energy to clean.

He won’t hear it. Says he’s not here to see your clean apartment. Here to see you.

He sets the bags on the worktop and looks around the room. Blinks from the sheer curtains guarding the balcony doors, to the pastel candles on your coffee table. Smiles when he notices the Pretty Woman poster framed above the couch.

“What?” you ask, when his eyes finally land back on you. You tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it further down your bare thighs.

“Nothin’. Just – knew there was somethin’ more to you.”

You fold your arms and rock forward gently on the balls of your feet. Your head tilts. Your brows knit.

Joel clarifies, “I knew you weren’t as put together as you pretend to be at work. This – looks like your place. That’s all.”

“Oh, yeah? ‘n what does my place look like?

His cheeks lift. “Little all over the place. Little surprising. But bright. Cozy. You.”

“Bright ‘n cozy,” you echo.

He nods. Purses his lips, then adds, “And great in bed.”

You cough a laugh, reach out to shove his arm, and he catches your hand. He reels you in against his body and cups your head, fixing some flyaway strands of hair. You stare up at him, eyelashes slowly blinking him in and out of focus. His mottled beard and hazel eyes. The flecks of honeydew and amber swimming around his pupil. His shirt wrinkles beneath your chin.

“You hungry?” he asks, voice rumbling through his chest. You seem to understand the vibrations sooner than the words, these days. He reaches for the handles of the white bag, sliding it over towards you. “I brought lunch.”

“You brought lunch.” You scoff, grinning to yourself. It quickly fades, though, when your hand lowers into the bag and meets a warm, flat surface – two halves of a folded lid. Your brows pull. “You brought…”

Joel smiles as you lift the box, popping it open. Hot steam escapes the minute the lid folds back.

“Chinese okay? I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise by callin’ to ask what you wanted. I can run out and grab somethin’ else if you’re not –”

“How did you know to get…?” Your voice whittles to nothing as you stare down at the fresh-cooked meal, the bed of greasy noodles mixed with fried vegetables. Your tongue swipes at the corners of your mouth.

“’cause I know you,” Joel says, digging for a second box from the bag. “Anytime you’re stressed with work, anytime I give you a hard day, that’s what you order in for lunch, right?” He nods to the container as he tosses an egg roll into his mouth.

You giggle, lifting the box to hide your swollen cheeks. Your heartbeat hammers below your jaw.

“Right?” Joel laughs. “Chow mein? I’m right, ain’t I? You know I’m right.”

He nudges against you, taking his own lunch from the bag, and casts a familiar glance – the same one you saw a few days ago in Lavender Oaks. Like the decades-old mask slips just for a second and suddenly, a younger, shyer Joel shines through. He’s almost imperceptible, almost concealed by the cocky smirk and witty remarks of his older self, but you’ve seen him once, and now – he’s impossible to lose sight of.

“You’re weird,” you note, spinning off towards your bedroom.

Joel’s hot at your heels. “I’m weird?”

“Uhuh. For noticing that.”

He snorts, and then you feel a slap to your ass cheek. “Nice underwear, by the way. Who’d you steal them from?” he murmurs close to your ear, averting your gaze when you turn back, beaming.

You pad across the soft rug to your bed, dropping down and pulling the sheets back to make room for Joel. He’s setting his food down. You think to offer him a change of clothes – something more comfortable than a dress shirt and suit trousers – but the best you’d have is an oversized tee, and not much else.

The thought almost dizzies you. Joel, in his boxers and a t-shirt from your wardrobe. A shirt that smells like you, feels like you, belongs to you. A piece of you, hung from his shoulders like it was always meant to be shared between you. The way it’d still smell of him even after the sun had set and he’d peeled it from his body, folded it into a pile at the end of your bed and left in his button up.

He sits on the edge of your mattress to kick his shoes off, and marvels some more at the room just like he did in the kitchen. The fire in your chest is slowly turning your lungs to ash, stealing breath each time his dimples appear – squinting at the framed photographs on your dresser, tilting his head to read the titles of the books on your shelves.

When he catches sight of the paint-splattered easel in the corner, he turns back. Your eyes are already locked back on your chow mein, refusing to meet his. He doesn’t say anything. Just shuffles up against the headboard, nudges your knee with his own.

“You get that at the concert?” he asks, eyes a little south of yours.

You glance down. You’re wearing an old Queen tour tee, graphic print accompanied by 1986 in multicolored lettering. A little before your grand entrance on the planet. A little after Joel’s.

“Rod’s Retro, eastside,” you reply. “You find some cool stuff in there, Mr. CEO.”

Joel’s chin lifts, considering. “Hm,” he says, “you gonna take me someday?”

You nod. Maybe a little too eagerly. It doesn’t feel like you ought to care. “Um, yes. You would fucking love it. Half my wardrobe is thrifted.”

He nods once – banking the information. “Every day, I learn somethin’ new.”

“Shut up,” you quip, kicking him gently. “How come I never get to learn anything new about you?”

He shrugs, chewing. “Self-absorbed.”

You kick him for real this time. He laughs into his takeout box.

“I’m messing with you. You know plenty about me. You met my mom the other day, for cryin’ out loud.”

“Not enough. Don’t know where you get all your clothes from, or what your comfort food is.”

He replies through a mouthful of chop suey. “Then, ask.”

Your voice is high, defensive. “No. That’s too easy.”

Joel snorts.

You reach for the remote and click the screen opposite to life. Joel lifts his arm to let you sink against his body, and you flick through the channels. Shark Tank, Grey’s Anatomy, Wendy fucking Williams, and then –

You gasp. Joel looks up from his food. His brows arch, eyes flitting from you to the screen. You swear a groan escapes from his lips. You feel the thunder against your ear.

“You ever seen it?”

“Dirty Dancing? Yeah, I’ve seen Dirty Dancing, pretty girl.”

“You probably saw it at the movies, right? When it came out? In the eighties?”

“Careful.”

You smile. “What did you think of it?”

Joel’s shoulders lift. His eyes are back on the screen. Be My Baby is crooning from the TV. “I liked Patrick Swayze,” he says.

You watch him, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t, you lean closer. “You…you liked Patrick Swayze?”

“Yeah,” Joel says, like it’s obvious. He turns back to you, one eyebrow raised. “He was cool. You don’t like ‘im in it?”

“No, I like Patrick Swayze,” you tell him. “Just…if that’s all you like about it, then…we might have a problem.”

He scoffs. “I don’t remember much of it, to tell you the truth.”

“Good. We’re watching it.”

Your head moves with his chest as he sucks in a deep, defeated breath. “Baby, I –”

“Ah,” you tap the remote on his knuckles, “you remember the Baby part.”

With a laugh which sounds an awful lot like approval and a grunt which sounds an awful lot like Alright, Joel sinks lower into the mattress. You drape your legs across his, and when he finishes eating, his fingers draw round shapes on your hot skin, daring past the hem of his own boxers on your thighs.

Somewhere around the lake scene, you notice your hand intertwined with his. Locked together, surfing over one another, squeezing and then loosening. Tracing the curve of each other’s palms and learning the lines scored into the skin. Fingertips becoming fluent in the landscape of one another’s bodies. Mapping them, like you’re afraid to forget.

Your eyes glass over, whether from fatigue, or from the now smoldering fire inside you, or from something harder to pinpoint. Your head feels heavy, leaning on Joel’s chest, listening to the drum of his heart against your ear. It sounds familiar, like you’ve known it forever. Like you can almost hear the whisperings between the soft thudding.

You start when you feel him moving beneath you. He groans, stretches his arms, and then snakes them around your body. The end credits are rolling. The movie’s over. You weren’t asleep, but you missed half of it. Your mind elsewhere – though you have no idea where.

Maybe you do. Maybe that’s not something you can bear – yet. Yet yet yet.

You crane your neck and look up to your boss. He’s already staring right back at you. His eyes widen.

“What did you think?” you ask sleepily.

He sniffs. “It’s good. Very politically charged. Lotsa Swayze.”

Your lips curve, cheek nuzzles into his shirt. “Very us, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Especially that part in the water. When he –” his arms lift, holding an invisible Baby up – “y’know? You ‘n me, we do that all the time.”

“I hate you.”

He tightens his grip around your shoulders and lifts you closer, smiling. You think, when his eyes dart for half a second to your lips, that he might kiss you. You think you want him to. But he simply asks, “You want some tea?” and reaches over to swipe the empty containers from your nightstand.

You nod. “I’ll come help.”

“I got it,” he assures in that Southern gentleman tone, steady hand on your thigh as he slips out of bed.

“You don’t even know where the mugs are.”

Joel considers this for all of five seconds. Shrugs. Tells you, “I’ll figure it out,” and disappears through to the kitchen.

You lay back and close your eyes, counting each cupboard door opening and then immediately falling shut as he makes his way around the place, seeking out your collection of mugs. When he eventually opens what must be the right one, you hear him exclaim.

“Ha! First try.”

You snort, bleary eyes opening again to focus on the TV. They’re discussing the Kardashians on The View. Your eyebrows lift in agreement as if you’re sat in the studio with them. They move on to some segment on the president.

Joel returns a few minutes later, two mugs in hand, and passes you the one shaped like a ghost.

“Cute,” you whisper, taking it in both hands.

He flashes you a proud grin as he lays back down, sipping on a black coffee in a faded mug your mom gave you years ago.

You tap your nail against the ceramic in his hands. “World’s Best Daughter.”

“That’s me,” he replies, propping himself up on an elbow. “Your mom get you it?”

Your head drops, eyes staring at him from under low brows. “No. My fucking neighbor did.”

He stares back as he lifts the mug to his lips. They melt in a kiss against the ceramic. When he pulls it away again, he swallows, and says, “You’re close to her.”

“My neighbor? Yeah, she lives right next door.”

“Easy, smartass.”

You flash him a smug grin, which dissolves as quickly as you notice his eyes lingering on the half-heart charm around your neck. By instinct, your fingers clutch the smooth gold, as if protecting the smallest part of yourself from him. The only part you’ve never let him in on.

But there’s something in his eye – something that feels less like a spotlight and more like a warm fire. Sharing secrets muted by the sputtering of wood, held safely by the round rusty glow of the flames. Something kinder. Something protective.

“Yeah,” you say, voice crackling, “we’re closer ‘n anyone. Been through a lot together.”

Joel nods. He knew that already. “I’ll bet, pretty girl.”

And in typical Joel fashion, he doesn’t press for any more than you willingly offer. A part of you kind of wants him to ask more, wants him to push you. A weight jumps at the bottom of your chest, like the words fail to launch. And before you can retry, before you can confess more of yourself into his hands, he says –

“Ask me som’.”

You stall, and look at him intently. “What?”

“Anything you want. Free pass.”

Your cheeks swell. “What do you mean?”

“If we’re sharin’ things, ‘s only fair we both do.”

“I don’t – We don’t have to –”

“Ask me,” he says slowly, eyebrows twitching.

“O-kay…”

You push a deep breath from your lips, cheeks globing as you scan around the room for inspiration. Something casual enough that you can ask it with ease, but deep enough that he’ll give you an answer worth sinking your teeth into. Something you don’t know about him; light enough to roll off your tongue, and then heavy when it lands in your palms.

Your gaze orbits back to his patient form and you ask, “How did you get the money to start your company?”

Joel seems to feel the weight of it when he catches it. Heavy, rather than light. Deep, rather than casual. He opens his mouth, runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek before he answers. “My, uh…my dad. He had a little bit of money.”

“He invest in it?”

“No, no. He, uh…he left it when he died.”

Your lips pull in a wince. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, and Joel looks up.

“’s okay, baby,” he replies, with a soft chuckle that makes the loose collar of his shirt quiver. He pushes some hair out of your face, settles his hand on your knee.

You hook two fingers around his thumb. He squeezes lightly.

“He musta loved you a lot. Leavin’ you so much.”

Another deep breath. His body stiffens. You think to unlock your fingers and take his hand properly, comfort him, maybe – but he’s already lifting it, scratching his beard with his thumb. He watches a bubble swirl around in his mug until it disappears with a pop into the dark coffee, and he finally looks up.

“It’s kinda…complicated. He and my mom – they were married for years, ‘n he ended up…” Joel swallows. His jaw clenches. “He cheated on her. Had this mistress for months. Mom found out through a friend of hers. She kicked him out of the house, but they never divorced. Just stayed separated until he died, ‘n then he left all his money to her.”

“To your mom?”

Joel nods. “She didn’t want a penny of it. Hated the man ‘til the day he died ‘n beyond.”

And you believe it. Ruth Miller was kind, warm and charming to you. She laughed with you, she smiled like she’d known you her whole life, she held your hands and she whispered secrets about Joel in your ear – purposefully to embarrass him, to make that bashful side turn its head again.

But she was sharp. She was quick, and you knew within the first five minutes of meeting her exactly where Joel got his wit and his mind. You can see her, clear as day, guarding the front porch of that little white house – one hand on her hip and the other pointing in the direction her cheating husband was to head.

Just as clear, you can see her stood over that same husband’s grave, waving her fist and tearing his will into confetti. It brings something of a smile to your face. Sad, sympathetic, but…impressed.

“Wow…So she – she gave it to you? And you – put it into the company?”

He shrugs, grip tightening around the mug. “When I started makin’ money, I paid off the mortgage on her house, managed to convince her to retire early. Got her into a good retirement home, once she was ready for it.”

Smart guy.

A calm quiet falls between you. Joel turns to watch the commercials on TV. Your chest fills with a need to ask him something – a feeling all too familiar whenever you’re around him. Only him. A weight on your mind, a bubbling which starts in your stomach and rises up until it’s practically pushing the words out over your tongue.

“Your dad – how do you not hate him?”

He turns back. Your eyes are stinging. He notices. Holds his palm out, and your fingers instantly lace through his. Your nails find those same valleys, the grooves you’d traced while Swayze and Grey mamboed.

Joel stares up at you, face suddenly tight with worry. He knows there’s something loaded behind your question. Knows you’re asking for something more than another jigsaw piece of him. You’re doing it again. You’re freakin’ him out.

“I…” He falls quiet, looks between your eyes at the pearly tears which form in the corners, the way your face sets to stone. He glances down at your necklace again, and shakes his head softly. “I spent a long time hatin’ him, baby. Changed nothin’. He did what he did. He was a scumbag.”

The answer melts your angry frame, body folding and sinking further into your pillows. You tug the bedsheet a little closer to your chin, press your lips into the top of the ceramic ghost’s head.

Your voice sounds small, sounds like it doesn’t even come from your chest, when you say, “I think I hate my dad. For what he did.”

Joel finally relaxes. Like he’s finally seen the tiny creature casting the huge, stretched shadow on the wall. “You…Yeah?”

You nod. Stare at the cotton mountain of your legs entangled in his. “Yeah. He just up ‘n left, when things got boring. When I grew up, and my mom got older. Just packed his car, and…I always wonder –” a breath lurches from your chest, “– I always wonder why I wasn’t worth stickin’ around for. Why he just – decided one day to…”

Your voice fails to carry. Joel knows the end of the sentence, anyway.

You’ve never told anybody any of this. Not Blake, not your mom, not any of your friends; you barely even know in yourself how you feel about it – even twelve years later. But the air in the room feels different – feels thicker, like you’re tucked away from the world. The conversation won’t leave your apartment, you know that much. Know that Joel wouldn’t speak of it again, wouldn’t so much as let it cross his own mind, if you asked him not to. And so you let the words tumble from your tongue, let them sit heavy in the space between you.

The space between you, which is now silent, like you’re both preoccupied. Joel, taking in the weight of what you’ve said into strong, safe hands; and you, feeling that same weight lift off of your chest. Until the silence itself feels clunky, and awkward, and you scram to find something to break it up.

“Anyway. Sorry to be a bummer.”

“You ain’t a bummer. Are you kidding?” Joel sighs. “I’m sorry, babygirl. Sorry that happened to you.”

“’s okay. He was just a scumbag, right?”

“Sure sounds it.”

You take a small sip, the tea sugarcoating your lips and flooding over your tongue – the sweet taste ridding them of the bitter memory of your dad. “Your turn,” you hum.

Joel’s head jerks. “No, darlin’, you already told me somethin’. You go again.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I’m changin’ the rules.”

You try to protest, manage the sound Jo– before his hand lifts and he shushes you.

“That’s what I was gonna ask, anyways. Was gonna ask about you ‘n your dad. Now, go.”

He’s lying. You know it, and you suspect he knows you know it, too. It’s a terrible attempt at a lie, no matter how kind it is. But you’re too tired, a little too in pain to argue back over it. And he’s looking at you again, with that honeycomb twinkle in his eye, that Joel look which stirs something in you every time he shows you it.

You sigh, accepting defeat, and rack your brain for something else you want him to talk about.

“Alright, uh…What about your brother? He didn’t want any of your dad’s money?”

Joel’s face twists into something of a grimace. You instantly regret bringing it up.

“Touchy subject?” you ask, already coming up with five new, two-dimensional questions to ask in place of that one. Who was your first kiss and what was your first car and when did you find your first gray hair and what’s your mom’s maiden name and –

But you don’t need them.

Joel says, “Not with you,” and tilts his head, like measuring up his answer. He takes his time letting it filter down to his lips, and you reckon you’ve a good idea of why.

He was closed-off about it in Paris. About his brother. Didn’t say more than three sentences about him. And that was only where a sheep farm was considered. What you’re asking about right now is a hell of a lot deeper and a hell of a lot more difficult than a ranch in the Texan countryside.

“He was always closer to Dad. They used to go out huntin’ every Sunday. Liked the same music, watched the same TV. They were buddies, more ‘n anything. When it turned out my dad had this whole other life behind our backs – behind Tommy’s back – he flipped. Couldn’t take it. He disappeared, never looked back. Just packed his car, moved across the country.”

He’s staring at the TV now, barely blinking. Barely breathing, until you speak and it’s like he remembers he’s in your apartment, on your bed, with you. Not back in time twenty years, watching the dust kick up from under his little brother’s tires.

“He must’ve been pretty mad.”

“Yeah. Tommy’s like that, he’s got a hot head on his shoulders. But it meant leavin’ Mom, y’know? She went through all of that without him. I had to pick up all these broken pieces, juggle all this stuff, ‘n he just got to walk away from it all. And then, when Dad died, he refused to come back still. Left me to organize everything – the money, the funeral. The whole damn thing.”

He flicks his head, resentfully, like trying to dislodge the memory from his mind. Trying to shake it free. When you speak, it seems to soften him. Seems to thaw whatever angry image was frozen behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “that part sucks. I bet it was hard goin’ through all that without him.”

Joel’s head angles towards you. “Not any harder ‘n it was on you, goin’ through what you did.”

“Well…I know I would’ve found it easier if I had a brother or sister. Someone like me, someone who gets it, y’know?”

“Hm. We weren’t all that close to begin with, I guess.”

“You were close enough to want to buy a ranch together.”

He shakes his head again, this time refusing to let the idea in. Turning it away at the door.

“You miss him?”

“It my turn to ask somethin’ yet?” he asks, smiling.

But you’re feeling braver now. He’s answered everything up until now; it feels less like a game and more like…more like he wants to talk about it. Like it’s been pent up all this time and this is the first anyone’s brought it up. A relief to get it off his chest, if nothing else.

You ignore him. Press him. “Do you?”

Joel sighs deep enough that his coffee ripples a little in his mug, and then nods. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like if we were on speaking terms, yeah.”

“So, call him. You have his number?”

“I ain’t gonna call him, baby.”

“Where’s he at?”

“Last I heard, ‘n it was a long time ago now – he was in Wyoming. Married, kid on the way.”

“Call him. You really gonna let that kid grow up without Uncle Joel around?”

“Uncle Joel,” he repeats, laughing now. “He does not want to hear from me, angel. Let it go.”

Joel turns the volume up and settles back into bed, pillows propped behind him. You pass him your empty mug and he slots it alongside his own. As the commercials end and Whoopi Goldberg flashes a grin into the camera, you give it one final shot.

“I’d give anything to have someone who knew and understood me as well as a brother might.”

His hand falls limp against your bedsheets, remote loose in his fingers. You lift his arm, nuzzling underneath it to lean your head by his heart, and he sighs.

Argument won.

“Too many big questions,” you mutter after a while, eyes clinging to the screen. “Ask me somethin’ stupid.”

“Somethin’ stupid,” Joel repeats, and you nod. “Alright. Who’d you lose your virginity to?”

You slap his chest. “Dirtbag!”

He chuckles. “Who was it? Blake?”

“No,” you reply.

“Damn. Who?”

You roll your eyes, though he can’t see you.

But suddenly you feel the loose spaghetti straps of a slip dress over your shoulders, see the off-white glow of three-year-old sneakers crossed at your ankles, chipped pink fingernails tracing the blurry pastel shapes on floral bedsheets. A dry throat, the sanitized backwash of vodka and coke splashing across your tongue. A smash from downstairs – someone’s broken the host’s mom’s best vase.

“Was just this guy I slept with at a house party,” you tell Joel, clearing your throat. “Lisa Tait’s sweet sixteenth. We were in her bedroom, all of us, ‘n everyone started heading downstairs, ‘til it was just me ‘n this dude Jack laying on her bed.”

“You had sex on some other girl’s bed?”

You nod, cringing a little. “I wasn’t even friends with her. Wasn’t even friends with him. Just thought, fuck it. I didn’t wanna go into senior year a virgin ‘n neither did he, I guess.”

“How’d it go?”

The messy, uncomfortable thrusts between your legs. The hand shooting down to guide himself back in. The wet lips running along the shell of your ear, the acidic breath on your cheek. Is that good for you? Yeah, it’s good for me. You sure? I’m sure. Just hurry up.

“Lasted, like, four minutes, thirty seconds.”

Joel’s body jerks. You know he’s staring at the crown of your head. “You timed him?”

“No. He lasted as long as Paradise by Coldplay. It was playin’ downstairs in the living room.”

He tips his head back and laughs to the ceiling. You giggle into his shirt.

“Poor guy,” Joel says, rubbing your shoulder.

“Poor me, more like.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, and pats your head. “Least you’re doin’ alright now.”

You push yourself up from his chest and glare at his satisfied smirk, dodging his thumb when it lifts to clip your chin. “Oh, you’re so smug about it.”

“Are you kidding? For lastin’ longer than five minutes? ‘course I am. Can make you come twice in that time.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. Runs the tip of his tongue along his top lip, corners of his mouth twitching. Something sparks to life inside you.

Your knee lifts, reaching over his waist and planting into the mattress on the opposite side. Joel’s hands come to rest on your thighs, fingers slipping up beneath the black cotton and edging against your hipbones. You bend over him, lips running a wet trail from the base of his neck to his earlobe. His breath falters.

“Prove it, daddy,” you whisper, and his grip tightens.

“Baby,” he warns, voice suddenly sharper. “We don’t have to –”

You ignore him, holding him down by the shoulders. “I want to.”

“I’m just sayin’,” his fingers wrap around your wrists, “’s not why I came here. We can just hang out.”

“We are hanging out,” you tell him. “This is what we do.”

And he seems to agree. Or, at least, accepts defeat, in the form of rolling his hips upwards. His fingers slip through yours, locking at your knuckles, anchoring you to him. You grind against his belt buckle, the hard metal flat against your clit. Joel clocks you instantly.

He sits up. Holds you by the ass on his body until your center is flush with his. You feel him stir beneath your open legs.

He shifts to the edge of the bed, keeping you chest to chest in his lap. Your teeth grit against one another. His lips are warm, they still taste like coffee. You lick at the corners.

“Wanna make yourself feel good on me?” he asks.

A smile as sweet as sugar and laced with something darker spreads across your lips. “You’re best at it, right?”

Joel hums. “Alright,” he says, impressed. His chin lifts; he breathes a laugh as you pepper his jaw with kisses. “Take what you need, angel. ‘s all yours.”

Your knees spread wider. You push down on his swollen crotch, voice catching as he meets you halfway, bucking up into you again. Your clit throbs at the contact, forcing you back up off him.

“D-addy,” you choke, hands suddenly gripping his shoulders.

Joel’s stronger. He takes your waist and replaces you on his lap. “Shh,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear, “’s okay, baby. I got you. We’re gonna make you feel good together, alright? Here.”

He slides you over until your legs are either side of one of his, his thick thigh flat against your most sensitive spot. You dig your nails into his forearms, squeezing hard, but he doesn’t budge. Just looks up at you, holding you steady, and says –

“Go on. Ride it, babygirl.”

You move an inch. The rough fabric catches on the soft of Joel’s underwear. You gasp, relief mixing with arousal and spilling warm and soothing between your legs.

Joel squeezes your hips. “Do it, darlin’. Make yourself feel good. ‘m here, I’ll watch.”

The fabric beneath your pussy is soaked, probably dampening a mark into his pants – and you don’t fucking care. It feels good – the steady weight of him, lifting his thigh as you drag yourself along it, beginning to rock back and forth.

Your eyes are closed, head to the ceiling, grinding your core against his. You can feel him staring. Watching you, his gaze red hot on your already fevered skin. You collapse into him over and over, his body solid as a rock, letting yours fold against him. Liquid in pleasure and feeling.

Your eyes open a sliver and you smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

Joel smirks. “You know how fucking perfect you look right now?”

You nod, forehead coming to lean heavily on his.

He bucks his leg, jaw tight. “How – fucking – beautiful you are? Making yourself come on daddy’s thigh?”

You inhale the words as he speaks them, swallowing them in gasps and parting your lips complacently for more. Keep going. Keep telling me –

“–you my good girl?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, legs starting to give.

“Gonna get me covered in you? Gonna come all fuckin’ over me, babygirl?”

“Daddy, I want –”

“Tell me,” he demands, “tell me what you want.”

His hands are clamped on your waist, guiding you – driving you, more than your weak hips are able to – holding you to him almost painfully. Your body circles messily, becoming sloppier the closer your orgasm draws, quivering when the feeling runs a delicate hand through your hair and plants wet kisses along your neck.

“Want you to fuck me, daddy,” you whine, body rocking again. Your hand lowers to cup the outline of him, rock-hard and restrained beneath linen. He shudders when you squeeze him – looks down to your small hand on the huge bulge in his trousers. “Need to feel you inside me.”

Your own eyes are stuck on the place where your bodies connect, writhing against one another – the wet seam of Joel’s underwear, the folds of his pant leg as you rut against him. Your empty cunt tightens, aching for more against his firm thigh.

“’m gonna, pretty girl,” he says, groaning as you palm him. “‘m gonna fuck you so good. Just give me one first, alright? Let me see you come for me.”

Your body jolts as you come. Hips lose their rhythm; arms lock tight around Joel’s shoulders. And all the while, his lips stay pressed against your ear.

“Look so good, baby,” he coos. “That feel good, angel? Yeah?”

As quickly as your orgasm sent you under, you’re pulling back. You haven’t even regained feeling between your legs, but you’re pushing yourself from his lap, separating your bodies.

Joel sits back, body lightweight when you tug on his wrists and drag him up to height in front of you. You’re backing up across the plush rug, his chest bumping against yours, your fingers fumbling for the buttons of his shirt. Your back hits the bathroom door. Joel twists the handle.

You spill onto the cold tile, attached at the mouth, frantically tearing clothes from each other’s bodies. It’s desperate. It’s burning. It’s almost fucking painful, how bad you need him.

His hands run from your cheeks to the hem of your shirt, hauling it over your torso and tossing it to the counter. You peel the shirt from his shoulders and your bare chest meets his, his hands finding your hips again when he whips them from his sleeves. The white shirt drops to your damp floor, dark, wet marks spreading across the dress fabric.

“Shoot,” you mumble against his lips. “My – bad. Sorry.”

“Don’t – care,” Joel breathes, and his thumbs push beneath his waistband.

You spin on your heel, backing towards the shower and taking him by the jaw with you. He shoves the clothing down his legs, stepping out of them and catching you again in time to drag the underwear from your thighs.

You shift into the shower, both fully naked. Joel spins the nozzle and the warm water rains down between you. His chest quickly soaks, dark hair thicker and blacker, flat against his glistening skin. He tilts his head under the spray and soaks his hair – gives one heavy flick of the head like a wet dog, and you laugh as he pulls you in again.

His hands cup your face as he connects your lips, and then his right drifts down your neck and pushes your tit up, squeezing the sensitive skin in his palm and rolling your firm nipple between two fingers. He lets it drop, runs his hand delicately down your frame, following the curve of your waist to your hips. He cups between your legs.

You come up for air, a sudden realization over your head as though the water runs freezing cold. “Wait,” you start, “I gotta –”

But he’s rubbing gentle circles against your clit, slow, pacing you as the tide of your first orgasm disappears to sea. He doesn’t seem to know, yet – or if he does, he doesn’t give a fuck.

“Joel –”

“I know,” he says, voice low and busy, but still – assuring. Unbothered. He moves his hand lower, surfing along your slit, until his fingers brush the wet string.

Your breathing jumps. He taps the seam of your thigh twice, and your leg tilts aside. Your eyes flit back up, crossing over his chest to fix on his jaw. You feel a flushing heat cross your cheeks, a moment’s hesitation before your fingers clamp around his wrist.

“Hey,” he whispers, and you almost don’t hear him over the running of the shower. He keeps his left hand on your jaw, his right between your legs. He shakes his head once, and takes the string in two fingers, and –

Gently pulls. Only a fraction, and then he pauses. Looks back up at you, a question in his stare.

You nod, exhaling heavily. He pulls again, and he doesn’t stop.

The tampon falls wet and heavy into his palm. His hand leaves your cheek and settles around your waist, leaning both of you out of the shower while he reaches for some toilet paper. Once it’s wrapped in a roll of white tissue and sat on your sink, he moves back into the cubicle.

He runs his palm under the flow; splashes of red swept up, watered down, and carried to the drain along with every last whispering of worry on your lips. Your elbows bend around his neck and he dips his head to kiss you, pushing you carefully into the corner.

“You tell me –” he kisses you, “– if it hurts or it gets too much, you tell me.” His body stands huge, blocking yours from the stream of water. Your back bumps against the shower wall; the shock of the cold tile pushes you closer to Joel.

“Just – fuck me.”

But he’s adamant. “You tell me.”

“I’ll tell you. You’ll know.”

“This is about you feelin’ good.”

“I’ll tell you,” you whine.

“We’re gonna have a word,” Joel instructs, lining up between your legs. He lifts your thigh to sit on his hip. “’n if you say it, I stop. Alright?”

You nod, fervently. “Please –”

His fingers separate your lips; his tip nudges your entrance. “Maple, alright? It gets too much, you say maple. You do that?”

“Joel, if you don’t –”

“Baby.”

“Maple,” you agree, “I’ll say it. Just –”

He pushes in without another word.

How many times has it been, by now? Ten? More than that? Enough for you to know in your mind, if not from trying to learn then simply from muscle memory, exactly how he feels. The curve of his cock, the width of the tip, the length of him as he slots deep inside you.

And yet – every fucking time – you feel so full. Full of him in every sense – your cunt, swollen around him, your lungs, breathing his scent, your every thought and feeling and sense replaced by Joel. Joel Joel Joel Joel –

He’s suffocating. And if you died right now – if you were smothered by him, swaddled until you couldn’t feel anything anymore – you’re not sure you’d be able to tell. Not sure you’d care enough to notice.

He pushes in slow, but deep. So fucking deep. Lets your walls expand around him the first few thrusts, lets your body welcome him back in. His lips press against your temple, his arms cradle your lower back. Your weight bears down on his shoulders and he lifts you, your other leg sitting on his waist. He holds your ass in both hands, begins to bounce you steadily.

“So good, baby,” he says. “Doin’ so good for me. You’re daddy’s girl, ain’t you?”

Your answer leaves your lips in the form of a moan. Something shaped like his name, or maybe some attempt at a response to his question, or maybe something more dangerous.

“My girl,” he repeats, whatever it was you said. “Daddy’s girl.”

Your head rolls back, cushioned by Joel’s hand between you and the tile wall. He knots his fingers in your hair, snaps his hips quick and hard, panting into your shoulder. And there’s a feeling – a stinging, a burning, sweeping across your eyes, and for a second you think it feels like shampoo, like the sharp scratch of soap between your lashes, until you realize it’s –

Tears. The heavy cut of tears, brimming your eyes. Blurring your vision. And with every thrust, every blissful meeting of Joel’s cock and your cervix, every inch he spreads you open wide – they form quicker, and quicker, and quicker. Until they spill down onto your cheeks, and you can’t tell the difference between them and the spray of the shower.

But Joel can. His head lifts from the crook of your neck, his teeth dragging from your skin. He spots your eyelashes, silky and wet, and in one motion, wraps his arm around your head, holds you with the inside of his elbow.

He dips his jaw, presses his lips featherlight to your cheeks, kisses the tears away as quickly as they roll down.

“I –” gasp, “– don’t know –” gasp, “– why I’m –”

Joel’s head shakes as he pulls away. Shuts you up. His answer is simple. You believe it instantly.

“’s okay. You’re okay.”

And right then – you think you understand.

Because you can see him – plain as day. You can see the amounts he cares for you, the limitless needs he can meet for you. There’s a warmth within you, spread throughout your body for him, and you have no fucking idea how to let him feel it. How to have it seep through your skin – so that every time his fingers ghost over your body, he’s met with a blaze strong enough to burn. A fire, big enough and bright enough that it shows him exactly how you feel.

Only him. No one else. A flame only he can see, dancing across your eyes when you look at him. A heat only he can feel. How do you make him feel it? How do you tell him? What combination of words might translate it?

It’s like slamming your fists against a glass barrier. A transparent wall, that allows you only to see him and draw near to him – never to feel him. Not really.

And so, you cry. You cry for him, for yourself. And Joel lets you.

For a little while.

His lips are back on your neck, biting marks into the soaking skin. “’attagirl,” he hums. It rattles your pulse, disturbs the rhythm and sends his own beating through your veins. “So good, baby.”

They soothe you – his lips, and the words which come from them. Soothe the sweet pain between your legs, the swollen ache every time Joel pushes into you. The stretch, the bruising tinge when his tip finds home in the deepest part of your body. Somewhere no one has ever reached, no one has ever found. No one, you feel, has ever been worthy enough to know.

Until him. Until Joel.

That same rhythm – your pulse on his wavelength – begins to flee south. Loops and swirls and dives to where his body connects with yours. Tightens rapidly around your cunt. Your hips grind against his, your thighs clamp on his waist. He starts to falter, hips slipping whether from blood or come or water. And then he’s growling, face burying into your chest as he steadies the two of you with an abrupt palm on the wall, and he stills.

The feeling of his release tips you over. The warmth spreading inside, so far you feel him in your stomach. Your walls contract around him, squeezing until every last drop of him is buried somewhere in you, and you lower one foot to the shower floor.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants, pulling his lips from your collarbone. “You okay?”

You nod, head rolling against the wall behind. You’re not crying anymore. The shower whirrs somewhere over Joel’s shoulder. Your chest feels tight. And you feel fucking euphoric.

He gives three more lazy, broken thrusts, pushing his come deeper inside. You both still, mouths curved open, exchanging breath and letting your tongues flick idly against one another.

You hold onto him long after your orgasm is shallow ripples between your legs. Long after the feeling has washed back into the ocean, your high a glimmer of sunlight bursting over the distant horizon, the aftereffects painting your world golden.

You hold onto him, and you let him run his hands slowly up and down your spine, and you sift your weak fingers through his dark hair, and you let him kiss your neck and your shoulders and your collarbones. He leans back; the flow of water cascades between you, carrying away any mess left on your bodies.

And then you let him carry you out of the shower, his tip still inside you, slowly softening. He settles you carefully against your counter, and reaches over for two white towels, caping one around your shoulders and using it to draw your body against his own.

You take the corners from his fingers and he lifts your chin, pushing your lips apart with his tongue. Then he pulls away, allows you to wrap the terry around yourself.

Joel wraps his own towel around his waist, slung loose enough that you can trace the dark hair peppered from his belly button down between his hips.

“You know how inappropriate it is to look at your boss like that?” he tuts.

You hook an arm around his neck and pull him back in. “Then stop lookin’ at me the way you do,” you tease, and he kisses your cheek.

He disappears through to your kitchen, reappears moments later with the box of Tampax, and you don’t even think to laugh or tell him you’ve an open box sat in the cupboard you’re leaning against. You just smile, and accept the clean tampon he holds out in his fingers. He leaves you to get dressed with the door closed over.

He’s sat on your bed when you emerge from the bathroom, holding his soaking shirt between two fingers. “Sorry about, uh…”

“’s alright,” he shrugs, standing up, “I’ll take it from your paycheck.”

His knuckles pinch your nose. You free yourself to place a chaste kiss on his fingers, and pass him the crinkled mess.

“I have something that’ll fit you somewhere,” you mutter, slipping past him as he hangs the shirt by the collar over your door.

“Do me a favor,” Joel’s voice follows, and he takes your wrist. You turn back to face him. “Catch your breath.”

“Huh?” you ask, and his hand comes up to mold around your cheek, the way it always fucking does. As if your bodies were made to be held by one another.

“Just – take a breath. You’re doin’ it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Movin’ at a hundred miles an hour. Breathe for me.”

You scoff, loosening yourself from his grasp to go sift through your wardrobe for something big enough for him. You settle for a Jurassic Park tee – logo faded and cracked, hem a little ragged.

“Rod’s?” he asks, holding the shirt up.

You’re already collapsing onto the mattress. “You bet.”

Joel smirks and tugs it over his head, throwing himself down against the headboard. Your hand wraps around his thigh, lips press soft kisses on the skin. He runs his hand over your hair.

“Are you gonna take a sick day off me for this?” you ask.

He shakes his head simply. “Doctor’s orders. Can’t say nothin’ to that.”

“I didn’t go to the doc–”

His thumb presses against your lips. “You don’t know when to fuckin’ lie, do you?” he whispers. “’s alright, we’ll getcha trained up.”

You snort, shaking yourself free of his hand. Your head settles by his hip, nails draw aimless patterns along the curve of his stomach.

“Need you better by Sunday, anyway,” Joel sighs, “Martha’s son’s birthday party.”

You grunt in response. You forgot about that.

Joel tuts. “Still gotta find him a present. How in the hell do I know what to buy a twelve-year-old?”

Your hand pauses. Neck cranes up to look at him. He’s staring down at you, his trademark glower still recognizable even upside down. Somehow, not sat upright in front of him, the thought seems less scary. Less of a commitment, more a casual suggestion.

“Why don’t we just get ‘im a joint one?”

The hard expression immediately wipes from his face. Replaced by something rounder. He blinks at you. “Really? From – you ‘n me?”

You shrug against his waist. It’s not answer enough for him.

“As in, you n’ me?” he asks.

“Why not?”

Joel’s head shakes. His mouth curves as he considers the thought. But he can’t mask the pang it sends through his body; can’t pretend he’s not covering the way his veins light and his nerves stand to attention by taking your hand in his and squeezing it briskly.

It doesn’t have to mean something. You, Joel, and Deb are the only people from work that Martha invited, and Deb’s bringing her two sons, which means her gift will be from them, too. All it has to mean is that you’re Martha’s co-workers, and figured it’d be cheaper and easier to get one gift over two.

Except – one of you is a millionaire.

It means something. The fact you asked. You’re not asking to save a buck, to make it simpler. You’re asking because you want to wrap some video game in paper Joel picked out; you want him to hold the folds down with one finger while you tear tape with your teeth. You want to sign the card with both of your names, in your handwriting. See how they look paired up.

You ask him because you want to feel the way you think you ought to have felt this entire time. Your body is ablaze. You’re ready to let him feel it. And you ‘n me seems like a pretty good combination of words to start with.

You’re ready. And that’s why you ask him.

Joel’s quiet for as long as you are. You both go to talk at the same time, both noticing how silent the room has fallen while you realize all of those things in real time.

“Sorry, baby, you go,” Joel says, sniffing.

“No, I was just – no, you go. What were you gonna say?”

He smiles. “Was just – wonderin’ what you wanted to get Alan.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and then you pause. “Al–? What?”

“What you wanted to get ‘im,” Joel repeats.

You push yourself up, lean on one hip in front of him. “Yeah, I heard that part. What did you call him?”

“Alan?”

You stare at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Joel stares right back. “Martha’s son.”

“Martha’s son’s name is Henry.”

“No, it fuckin’ ain’t.”

You’re biting back a laugh. “Yes, it fuckin’ is.”

“She calls him Little Al. All the damn time, baby, he’s –”

“That’s because he acts like Alan. Her husband. His father. All the damn time. You gotta be messing with me. Have you been calling him Alan the entire time he’s been alive?”

“No.”

His expression tells you yes.

You’re laughing now. Really laughing. It breaks your words in two, your head tilting back to the ceiling. “You…idiot.”

Joel’s struggling to compose himself, sliding off the bed. “The email she sent out says Alan’s Twelfth Birthday. The hell’s my phone?”

“You think she had a kid in two thousand eleven, and named it Alan? You don’t think they’d call Child Protection on her for that?”

He points a finger, tossing pillows to the bottom of your bed. “That’s disrespectful to the Alans of the world. Where the fuck is my –?”

Your chest swells in a giggle, eyes start to sting with tears. “What do you write in her Christmas cards? To Martha, Alan, and Alan?”

You slap the bed, leaning forward with a deep gasp, trying to catch your fucking breath. Joel’s still stripping the bed, still keeping his own laughter deep in his chest, but it’s quickly crumbling.

“Her email –” he chuckles, “– says Alan’s Twel–”

“She’s fucking with you!” you holler, catching the pillows he throws to you. “She’s fucking with – I’m gonna piss my pants. Martha, Alan, and Alan, oh my fucking –”

“Here,” he finally throws you the phone, “go find it. Find the email. Search the damn word Alan; she uses it every time she talks about him. Jesus Christ, I need a coffee. You want another chamomile tea, Little Miss Smartass?”

He lifts your mug and tilts it in your direction. You nod as you reach for the phone, wiping tears from your cheeks. Joel disappears through to the kitchen.

He clued you in on his passcode a few months after you started. You were still in the office past five o’clock, looking out files he needed for some client visit the following morning. His phone had buzzed, you were nearest it. He lifted his head and nodded to the lit screen.

1-6-9-1, he told you.

It finally made sense only a few days ago, after three years of wondering. Three years of knowing and never asking; a mystery solved. 1691 Maple.

His background was always one of the standard ones. The boring ones. A soft, blue gradient. Usually, his lock screen was too populated by notifications for you to even notice.

But now – it’s changed.

Now, it’s a photo of the view from the terrace in Paris. The pale sunset, faded blue into sweet yellow. The Eiffel Tower carved out in the center. You suck in a deep breath as you swipe texts and emails away to properly study it, figure out exactly where he was standing to take it, and exactly where you might’ve been when he did.

You tap in the four digits and his home screen lays out before you. Only, the background is different – again.

It’s Paris, still, but indoors. Dark wall, an ornate frame pinned to it, housing an amused smirk and soft hands. She’s looking off into the distance, past the photographer. Or maybe – she’s looking at you.

You, stood leaning on the barrier in front of her. The Mona Lisa. Your head tilted towards her, beaming like it’s a photo with your favorite celebrity.

It’s not a big deal. That’s what you tell yourself. It’s his home screen. Only visible if you know his password – and you’re fairly sure that you’re the only one who does. Not even Martha would know that this photo exists, never mind the fact that it’s his wallpaper. It’s not a big fucking deal.

No matter how much you think you want it to be.

You swiftly tap on the email app icon, trying to rid your mind of your own cheesing image. He has thirteen unread emails, all from the last hour. Some you know he’ll forward straight to you and Martha; others look a little more serious. As you’re scrolling down them, you notice a familiar face.

Denis Pelletier. His square-jawed grin flashes back at you from the tiny circle icon beside his name. You tap on the email, and your cheeks lift higher the further down it you read.

I hope your flight home was pleasant, and It was wonderful to take you both around Paris, and Your assistant was very sweet. You breathe a laugh, scrolling down the three-paragraph message urging Joel that if he’s ever back in Paris – if you’re ever back in Paris, both of you – to make sure you let the chauffeur know.

But there’s no email from Martha. At least, none in Joel’s inbox. You return out of the folder and wheel down to his Deleted folder, scrolling past password reset emails, panicked cries for help from Mackley and Tom, past order confirmations for brands you’ve never heard of, when –

A head of hair, more salt than pepper. A bright, unnerving smile, too many dazzling teeth in a mouth too small to house them. A pink sky behind him; candy floss clouds and townhouses glowing orange in the sunset – the building blocks of the Paris skyline.

Jean-Marc. An email – a deleted email – from Jean-Marc.

Dear Joel, It was such a pl… is all you can read from the preview. Your eyes flit up to your door. Joel’s still in the kitchen, humming. You glance back down to his phone.

Would it be invading his privacy? It’s only an email from Jean-Marc. It’s not like you don’t know who he is. What if your thumb slipped? Accidentally opened it? What if your eyes scanned over the text before you quickly swiped back out of the email?

There’s the sound of a drawer rolling closed. A spoon rattling against ceramic. He’s stirring your tea.

You click on the email.

It was such a pleasure to see you again.

You scan over the first paragraph. It’s just Jean-Marc cozying up to Joel. Your nose wrinkles and your lips turn.

I loved meeting your assistant, the next paragraph begins. And your focus is pulled.

I wonder if you had given our conversation any more thought? Whether she might be looking for a new challenge? Something this side of the Atlantic, perhaps?

Your heart skips a beat. A new challenge.

“You want the last egg roll?” Joel calls from the kitchen.

You jolt back to life. “N-no, you have it,” you reply. You hear the rustle of the bag.

I wonder if you might relay the message onto her, Jean-Marc continues. Please give her my email address and phone number.

You quickly pull the screen up, noting the date the message was sent. Three days after you got home from Paris. More than a week ago. You tap on Joel’s response as his footsteps creak back towards your bedroom.

His reply is as short and sweet as the few words he spoke to the Frenchman that Sunday morning.

I’ll pass on your details, he’s written, but unfortunately, my assistant is currently unavailable. Maybe sometime in the future.

Your jaw jerks. Eyes trace the words, over and over. Thumb scrolls up and down the email, making sure you’re reading it right. Joel, making promises he never followed through. Joel – your Joel, the one you pestered for fucking days after Paris over what he’d talked with Jean-Marc about – one hand laced through yours, the other with a vice grip around a secret he never intended to clue you in on.

You. He’d talked about you. They’d probably talked about you the entire fucking meeting, as soon as Joel mentioned you. You can see Jean-Marc’s ears twig; his eyebrows lift with interest. The way he sets his wine glass down, offers Joel another whiskey and invites him to say more.

Joel. Lying. And covering up. And keeping you close by his hip, walking in stride with him out of that fucking penthouse – like you’re on some kind of leash, or something.

The fabric of his underwear on your hips feels claustrophobic; a second layer of skin that rubs against yours like sandpaper. You want to rip them off off off – want to separate yourself from him, peel him from your body and forget the feeling of him as quickly as you seemed to absorb it. Instinct tells you to detach yourself – to remove any trace of him ever having laid eyes on you, never mind touched you.

What a fucking idiot, you think. He doesn’t fucking care about you after all.

You don’t even notice when his form saunters back into the room, when he shoves the door closed with his elbow. There’s a bitter taste on your tongue, sour with disappointment. Acrid with anger. Sick with fear.

Unavail–?

“You find it?” he asks, and you subconsciously clutch the phone to your chest.

“Not yet,” you murmur, watching as he sets the mug back on your nightstand.

His fingers slip through the handle, knuckle nudges the temple of the ghost a little further along the surface, and he straightens, lifting his own mug to his lips.

“’s in there,” he says against the ceramic. He holds a hand out, curls his fingers. “Let’s see.”

“Never mind,” you say, tapping out of the email, out of the folder, out of the app. “I believe you.”

And then –

“…You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

He licks his lips. Holds the mug by his side, fingers gripping the lip. He gives a non-committal shrug of the shoulders.

“No, darlin’. Why would I lie to you?”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #sex on fire

780 notes · View notes

javierpena-inatacvest · 7 months

Text

Take Me Home

Summary: After a night out at the bar with your co-workers after a long week at school, Javi picks you up and takes you home

Word Count: 3.2K

Pairing: husband!Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Alcohol/drinking (girl, you're plastered), allusions to smut, being a drunk, horny mess, mentions of food/eating, being hungover, Javi taking care of you, the Backstreet Boys (?!), just sweet, sweet fluff 😩

A/N: This was inspired by an ask from a sweet anon!! This made me giggle the whole time I was writing it, drunk Osita is my favorite 🤪 You know Javi would absolutely get a kick out of your drunken antics and would take such good care of you and your terrible hangover. Also who doesn't love a drunk Pop-Tart?!

This can be read as a standalone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

If there was one thing you knew, it was that the first few weeks of school were never easy. You were tired, stressed, and feeling like you were running on empty. You were hesitant when some of your new coworkers had suggested all of you head to the bar for Happy Hour on Friday after work, knowing damn well you’d be absolutely exhausted. But after the week you’d had, getting drunk with your teacher friends and commiserating about the chaos that was each of your classrooms couldn’t have sounded like a better way to cap off the craziness that had been the past 5 days.

You had offered to ask one of your friends for a ride to the bar so Javi could enjoy his Friday night without having to worry about you, but Javi being Javi, had more than happily dropped you off with your friends, and planned to pick you up around 11:30, giving you what you thought was more than enough time to enjoy a few drinks and de-stress with your co-workers.

4 margaritas and 2 surprise shots of tequila later, it was safe to say the state you were in was a little more than just de-stressed.

With how much you had to drink, you had found yourself paying absolutely zero attention to any clock, and had completely forgotten that you told Javi you would meet him by the front doors when he came to pick you up. Javi had a sneaking suspicion when he pulled up to the parking lot and you were nowhere to be found, that you were probably having a much better time at the bar, and were a few drinks deeper than you intended. Well, Javi wasn’t wrong to assume that you had downed more than just a couple drinks, but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be absolutely hammered.

Walking through the door, Javi couldn’t help but smile as he saw your familiar frame leaned against the ledge of the edge of the bar, gently rocking your head and swaying your hips to the muffled music playing under the chatter of the bar patrons. You must have been very focused on ordering whatever it was you wanted from the bartender, because you had been seemingly oblivious to Javi’s presence behind you. He firmly placed his broad hand on the small of your back, pressing his fingertips into your hips, making you immediately whip your head around in concern.

“Woah, woah, woah, don’t you dare fucking touch me, I am happily married and will glad beat the shit out of- AH! JAVI!” Your demeanor quickly shifted from a woman ready to throw down in a fist fight, to absolutely ecstatic, realizing the hand resting on your back belonged to your husband. Setting your drink down, you threw your arms around his neck, wrapping him in a tight hug, pressing your face against the soft fabric of his button down shirt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you, I thought you were some creep trying to grab my ass. But you’re not a creep, you’re my hot husband, and you can grab my ass all you want. What time is it? You smell really good.” From your giggles and rambling, Javi could tell you’d had more than your fair share to drink, trying to gently put down the glass you had picked up to take a sip from back down on the bar.

“Hi, Hermosa. I’m coming to pick you up, remember? Maybe let’s get you a water instead of finishing the rest of this, okay?” Javi smiled, passing your cup off to the bartender, and exchanging it for a new glass filled with water. Handing it off to you, your face scrunched in confusion as you took a long swing.

“This isn’t a margarita?” You questioned, handing it back to Javi, thinking that he had clearly made a mistake in ordering for you. Laughing, Javi nodded, trying to hand the water back to you.

“I know, Osita. It’s water, baby. Have a few sips and then I’m gonna take you home, alright?”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you gave him a little smirk before obliging, taking a few gulps of the water and setting it back down, crossing your arms against your chest. “Did you say you’re trying to take me home, Javier Peña?”

“Yes, I’m taking you home, you dork.” Javi laughed to himself, shaking his head as he picked up your coat and your purse from the back of the chair you had been perched next to. “Why don’t you go say goodbye to everyone and make sure no one else needs a ride home, okay?” You nodded, speeding off into the dwindling late night crowd, quickly finding your friends, hugging them and then pointing over at Javi, biting down on your lip, as the rest of them giggled, waving at him as he politely waved back. A few moments later, you found Javi again, stumbling through the bar, grabbing a fist full of his button up shirt, pressing up on your tiptoes to give him a long, tender kiss.

“Take me home, baby.”

After your 3rd trip to the bar bathroom and your self pep-talk in the mirror earlier, you knew you were drunk, but you hadn’t realized just how drunk you were until you found yourself trying to crawl your way into Javi’s truck, the passenger’s seat seeming much higher up than usual as you took several missed steps trying to hoist yourself into the car.

“You want help, hermosa?” Javi tried to keep his best from laughing as he watched you struggle.

“....Maybe. Jav, I think I’m actually really drunk. Or the seat got higher. I think it would be less embarrassing if the truck grew. Or maybe I shrunk… Drunk and shrunk, those rhyme, Jav!” You sighed, placing your hands on your hips, looking up at Javi’s car in frustration.

“I think you and the truck are both the same size, baby. Here… 1, 2, 3.” He smiled, grabbing you around your hips, lifting you into your seat, reaching over to click your seatbelt in before making his way to the driver’s side, strapping himself in and starting up the car. As Javi pulled out of the parking lot, you reached down to turn up the volume on the radio, turning it up even louder when you heard it was “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” by the Backstreet Boys. Even in your plastered state, you knew how much Javi despised this song, claiming he’d heard it enough times to last him a thousand lifetimes. You, on the other hand, thought it was catchy as hell, even more so now that you were drunk.

“I don’t understand how you don’t like this song! You yelled over the music, dancing in your seat, singing along to the lyrics.

“Am I original?”

You pointed at Javi, waiting for him to sing along to the “yeah’s”, frowning when all he did was laugh at you,

“Am I the only one?”

You pointed at him again, this time getting a half assed “yeah” out of him as you poked at his shoulder.

“Am I sexual?”

You outstretched your arm towards him, raising an eyebrow and biting down on your lip as you smirked, watching Javi reluctantly sing along to the last “yeah”, shaking his head, laughing at you.

“Am I everything you need, you better rock your body now- EVERYBODYYYYYY!” You screamed, pumping your fist in the air, pretending to sing into your imaginary microphone, Javi trying to keep from bursting into hysterics from your over dramatic performance. You paused mid chorus, looking over to see him lovingly laughing at you, making you give him your most sarcastic stank face. “Are you laughing at me, Javier Jesús Peña? Are you not enjoying your concert?”

“Osita,” He grinned, reaching down to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, “there’s nothing I love more than watching you sing along to whatever song it is while we drive. It’s my favorite thing. Even if you’re fucking ridiculous sometimes.”

“Nuh uh, you’re the ridiculous one, Jav. Ridiculously fucking hot. Do you like, ever look in the mirror and just admire how attractive you are? All the girls at work think so, too. They told me when I was leaving tonight that I was a lucky lady and you know what I told them? Bitch, absolutely I am. My husband is so fucking hot and sweet and perfect and to top it all off, he’s got a huge dick. Wait, maybe I didn’t say that last part to them… If I did, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry, ‘cause it’s true.” Javi practically choked on his own spit, his quiet laughter to himself halted by your last comment.

“Well, you’re very sweet, Osita. I hope for everyone’s sake you spared them the last part.” Javi laughed, giving your hand a little squeeze as you rested your head on his shoulder across the center console.

“I’m being serious, Javi! It really isn’t fair to everyone else how fucking handsome you are. Or that like, you’re fucking sex god. Can we have sex when we get home? Please please please?” You begged, trying to give him your best drunken puppy dog eyes and pouty lip, Javi gently patting your leg knowing you were in absolutely no state to do anything besides get force fed some Gatorade and ibuprofen and go to sleep.

“I think that we need to get you into bed, baby. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“Into the bed where we have awesome sex all the time.” You retorted, shooting him a clumsy wink, pointing your finger at him. “Except this morning when we had sex in the bed and the shower. The shower is also a good place for sex. Do you remember when we had sex this morning?” You giggled, rubbing your hand over Javi’s thigh, working your way further up the denim before Javi reached down, placing your hand back in his, pulling it away.

“Yes, Osita, of course I remember. Tonight we’re just gonna get into the bed and sleep.” Javi chuckled, smiling at you with your bright red cheeks, still dancing in your seat to whatever song was playing on the radio as he turned to pull into the driveway of your house.

“Oh my gosh, we’re already home?! That was so fast. Let’s go to bed so we can sleep.” You gave Javi an overexaggerated wink as you parked in the garage, fumbling with the door handle to try and get out of the truck. Wanting to make sure you didn’t topple out of the passenger seat, Javi quickly unbuckled his seat belt, walking around to your side of the car, helping you down. You shot off to the door, fighting with the locked doorknob to try and get it open, instantly turning to panic when you realize it wouldn’t budge. “Jav! Jav! I forgot to bring my keys with me, I think we’re locked out of the house, I’m so- Oh. Nevermind.” Javi came up behind you, dangling his keys before reaching down to unlock the door. You stumbled through the mudroom and down the hallway, your eyes lighting up as you realized you were passing the kitchen. Trying to dart your way towards the pantry, you forgot that you had kicked off your shoes only a few moments earlier, making you slip and stumble on the hardwood floor, promptly landing you right on your ass.

“Jesus Hermosa, are you okay?” Javi rushed over, eyes wide with concern as he watched you tumble, trying to pick you up from the hysterical heap you had fallen into.

“I forgot I had socks on and I slipped. I’m such a fucking idiot, oh my god, that had to have looked so funny. My butt is gonna hurt tomorrow.” You cackled, hoisting your body up as Javi pulled you to stand, holding his hands firm on your hips, making sure you were stable.

“Alright, c’mon Osita, we’re almost to bed.”

“Wait, wait, I want Pop-Tart though! That’s why I was running to the kitchen!” You protested, Javi grabbing you to stop you before you tried to run full force down the hallway and slip again.

“I will get you a Pop-Tart, you just get yourself into bed, okay? I’ll be there in a second.” Javi pleaded with you, trying to direct you back down the hallway towards the bedroom, hoping you would go and he wouldn’t have to wrangle you any further.

“You promise?” You frowned, poking Javi’s chest, standing your ground until you were positive you were getting a Pop-Tart before you fell asleep. Javi leaned down, planting a soft kiss in your hair, brushing a stray piece away from your face, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Yes, I promise.”

That was all it took to have you dancing down the hallway towards the bedroom, back to singing to yourself with each step.

“Everyboddyyyyy, rock your booooddyyy. Rock your body right. Back Street’s back, alright!”

Finally seeing you had made your way into your room, Javi made his way to the kitchen, shuffling through the pantry to grab a shiny silver Pop-Tart wrapper, a red Gatorade and a bottle of Advil from the medicine cabinet before quickly heading back down the hall, your singing now muffled as Javi found you laying face down in the bed, still fully clothed. Javi wasn’t going to let you fall asleep in jeans and a sweater, so he carefully flipped you over, making you giggle as he began to unbutton your pants, shuffling them down your legs.

“I thought you said we weren’t having sex tonight, so why are you undressing me, hmmm?” You sassed, wiggling your bottom half to help Javi get your jeans off before he grabbed your arms, pulling you up to sit and prompting you to lift up your arms, stripping you of your top. “Are you trying to look at my boobs? I want a piece of Pop-Tart before you get a free show.”

“I’m just trying to get you in pajamas, baby. I’m not gonna let you fall asleep in what you wore to the bar. How about this, if you can get yourself in some pajamas, I’ll give you your Pop-Tart.” Javi chuckled, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous compromise he was finding himself making with his drunken wife.

“You strike a hard bargain, Mr. Peña. Fine, I will put on pajamas. Only because I love you very, very, very, very, very much. And I really want that Pop-Tart.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as Javi threw you one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, haphazardly trying to wrestle them onto your body before flopping back down on the bed. “Okay, they’re on! Pop-Tart me, bitch.”

“Did you just say Pop-Tart me, bitch?” Javi snorted, looking at you, sprawled out like a starfish, his shirt draped over your body backwards.

“Pop-Tart me, bitch. Please.” You replied, smugly nodding your head, pointing finger guns at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute. I’m gonna go close up the house and then I’ll be back in bed. I love you, Osita.” Javi grinned, planting a kiss on your forehead, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

“I love you too, Javi. My Pop-Tart and my pussy are both ready for you when you get back.” You giggled, reaching over to grab the shiny, silver snack package Javi had left for you on your nightstand, now grabbing it like a microphone as you sang into it. “Back Street’s back, alrightttttt!”

“Jesus Christ…” Javi laughed, shaking his head as he gave you one last kiss before making his way back out of the bedroom, leaving you happily humming as you nibbled on the corner of your Pop-Tart, propped up on your stack of pillows. It didn’t take long for Javi to close up around the house, making sure to grab an extra package of Pop-Tarts and a big glass of water from the kitchen on his way back. “How’s the Pop-Tart, Osita?” Javi asked, gently closing the door behind him.

Silence.

“Osita?” He asked again, this time turning around to see that your singing and giggles had come to an end as you were passed out cold, sprawled out on top of the covers, Pop-Tart resting on your chest, rising and falling slowly with your soft snores. Javi laughed to himself, carefully taking the Pop-Tart off your chest and lifting you up to tuck you in under the covers, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Ducles sueños, Osita. Te amo mucho, loca (Sweet dreams, little bear. I love you so much, crazy.)

The next morning, you could hear yourself audibly groan as you turned over in the bed, shielding yourself from the sunlight peeking through the cracks in your curtain, head pounding from the brightness. You rubbed your eyes, squinting as you looked over at your nightstand to see the red letters of your alarm clock reading “10:37 A.M.” and the shiny glare of an opened Pop-Tart package, covered by a blue sticky note. You twisted over, realizing that Javi’s side of the bed was empty, before turning back with a grunt, reaching over to grab the sticky note.

Morning Osita. There’s Advil and Gatorade for you when you wake up. I think you may need it. I’ll have breakfast for you whenever you get up, unless you just want the Pop-Tart.

Love you

-J

Slowly, you hoisted yourself up, grabbing the Gatorade and pills Javi and left for you, popping them in your mouth, followed by a big swig of your drink, running both your hands over your face before letting out a deep sigh and sliding out of bed. You trudged down the hallway, rubbing your hand on your hip to ease the bruising pain you had felt since getting out of bed, greeted by the smell of breakfast in the kitchen, and Javi sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, sipping on a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Javi chuckled, peeking over the top of his newspaper as he watched you as you stumbled your way into one of the empty kitchen chairs next to him at the table.

“I feel like shit.” You groaned, propping your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. Javi set down his paper, draping his arm over your back, tracing small circles with his thumb along your still backwards shirt as he planted a soft kiss in your messy, sleepy hair.

“You were pretty drunk last night, Osita. Did you see the note I left for you?” Javi laughed quietly, shaking his head as he continued to rub your back. You turned your head over, looking up at Javi’s sympathetic gaze, scrunching your face as you let out a deep sigh.

“Yes thank you, oh my god, that Gatorade and Advil is gonna save my life. Why the hell was there a Pop-Tart on my nightstand?” You mumbled, reaching over to steal a sip of Javi’s coffee, accidentally letting a little dribble fall down onto your shirt, you were just now realizing it wasn't on right. “Wait, is my shirt backwards? My ass hurts like hell too, what the hell happened last night?”

“Why don’t I get you some breakfast and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns@blackfemalenerd @deppydelta

496 notes · View notes

number1jeonginstan · 3 months

Note

I feel like Felix would have a thing for food play...

A/N: No literally me and @astraysimp talked about this a while ago and added it to our Valentine’s Masterlist because I can just imagine Felix with food play (Also, I've been literally going crazy over Felix lately)

wc: .5k

“Baby can you taste this?” he asked, a spoon full of batter on his finger.

“Yeah one second” you screamed from your shared room as you ventured over to the kitchen.

You slowly put his fingers in your mouth, sucking at the creamy batter. “Taste good Lixie, when you bake them add whipped cream”

You went back to the room, scrolling on your phone, an hour passing by quickly. As you got deeper and deeper onto your Twitter feed, you stumbled across a video of this girl sucking on her boyfriend's dick, covered in cream.

"Hey Lixie" you whimpered as you stumbled out of the room, your cheeks slightly flushed from what you had just seen.

"Yeah, babe?" he asked, looking up from the tarts he was making.

"Can we try something?"

"Yeah of course, what do you need?" he asked, going to the sink and washing his hands.

"Whipped cream"

"Oh, do you want to do that back of a hand-smacking challenge thing? I saw it all over TikTok, and I thought it was cute." He giggled, walking over to you and squishing your face. "I could only imagine your cute little face covered with it after failing"

"It's something like that" you replied before taking the can from the counter.

"And what would that be baby?" he asked, kissing your lips.

"Come on" you took his hand, dragging him to the living room, forcing him to sit on the couch as you got on your knees in front of me.

"Fuck baby, if you are doing what I think you are, I'm not going to last that long"

"What do think I'm doing?" you asked, looking up at him with your doe eyes as you slowly pulled his sweatpants revealing his cock since he wasn't wearing underwear.

His cock was already slightly hard, but as you rubbed the length, you could feel it get harder in your hand.

"Fuck kitten" he groaned as your hand moved up and down on his cock, pre-cum already trailing out of the tip, adding extra lubrication.

When he was finally hard, you asked permission before spraying a heaping of cream on his tip, licking it off like you did with batter on his fingers an hour prior.

"Baby, this mouth is fucking amazing" he groaned as you sucked on the tip.

The taste of the sweet cream on his dick made it more inviting as you sucked on it harder, licking it up and down.

You slowly moved your head down his dick, your head bobbing up and down as he slowly wrapped your hair around his hand, forcing you to take the entirety of his cock down your throat.

"Fuck kitten, take my cock" he groaned before fucking your face, the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat.

You groaned at the feeling, loving the way he forced himself into your throat. You felt it twitch in your mouth as you hummed around it, knowing he was close, your own arousal causing your panties to stick to your cunt.

"There we go baby, take my cum" he groaned as he came down your throat with a groan, moaning at how tight and warm your throat was.

"Fuck baby, was it good?"

"So good Lixie, you taste so good" you moaned as he removed his cock from your throat.

"Good baby, now let's see what's sweeter, your cunt or this cream" he chuckled as he picked up the can from beside you, dragging you into your room.

#ju <3 answers #ju <3 writes #ju's <3 hardthoughts #ju's <3 anons #stray kids #skz #skz smut #straykids x reader #skz x reader #straykids smut #stray kids smut #lee felix x reader #lee felix smut #yongbok smut #yongbok x reader #felix smut #felix x reader

235 notes · View notes

drvmekoo · 1 year

Text

quality time | jeon jungkook

➳ pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x reader (f)

➳ genre: established relationship, fluff, a little bit of angst, smut

➳ rating: 18+ (minors dni)

➳ warnings: jungkook is a bit of a dick at the start tbh, t*tty kissing, n*pple s*cking, d*epthroating, p*ssy eating, rough s*x, unprotected s*x (wrap it before u tap it baes) cre*mpie

➳ wc: 2.1K

➳ author's notes: this is my first ever drabble on this account so please be nice! also please let me know if you guys like it! i always love hearing what people think about my writing!

➳ summary: you and jungkook were supposed to have some quality time together. however it seems he made other plans. and you're pissed.

“I just don’t understand the issue here?” Jungkook questioned, following you into the kitchen. “All I said was that Taehyung and I were gonna hang out tonight? Why are you getting all huffy?”

“You know that’s not the main issue Jungkook.” you carried on emptying the bags of groceries you bought onto the counter, back turned to him “It was meant to be us two tonight! I even went out to buy food, especially so we could cook and have dinner together!”

Jungkook continued staring at your back while he spoke “So Taehyung can join us? We see each other all the time! What’s one night?”

You froze. Whilst you didn’t mind cooking for Taehyung and having him over, it had been a while since you and your boyfriend had quality time together where you could both be relaxed. While it was true that you saw each other majority of the week, those hours spent with each other were spent finishing off work from earlier in the day or sleeping because of the busy schedules.

Today, you both had free schedules and that meant that the two of you were able to finally have that quality time you had missed out on for all these weeks.

Your plan was to make a nice dinner together, snuggle up and watch a nice movie. Heck, you even put on Jungkook’s favourite lingerie set. That was how much intimacy you were craving from missing it all these weeks.

Yet Jungkook seemed clueless. And that boiled your blood even more.

“I just think you’re being a little dramatic babe.” Jungkook rubbed your shoulder from behind “We can always do this again another time-”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit Jungkook.” you whipped around out of his touch “We never have the time to spend together yet the one time we do, you decided to invite Taehyung?”

“Y/n, the one night I have off I just wanna spend playing some games with my friend! What have I done wrong?” Jungkook stared at you, eyes open wide as your outburst continues

“What have you done wrong?” You scoffed loudly “I don’t know, how about the fact you haven’t even acknowledged that we haven’t eaten a proper meal together in forever? How about the fact that all we do is fall asleep without so much as a cuddle? How about the fact that we haven’t had sex in over two weeks because of how busy and tiring our schedules are?”

At this point, you had had enough. You stormed out of the kitchen and headed straight for the bedroom. You had to get away before either you said something you’d regret.

“Y/n, you can’t just walk away after that!” Jungkook followed you out. “What? You’re just gonna leave it like this?”

Jungkook’s voice became a muffled mess as you stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. You heard him curse under his breath as his words were met with the bang of the door closing before hearing the jangling of his keys.

“I’m going out for a bit. I’ll be back later.” He said flatly through the door, the closing of the front entrance the only clue that he had left.

From then on, that’s when the tears started to stream down your face. This was not how you wanted the evening to go. In fact, having Taehyung over was better than this.

But it was too late. The night had been ruined and you didn’t know where your boyfriend had run off to. Thoughts ran into your mind of him with another, using the affection he was meant to give you on someone else…

But you know Jungkook would never do that. No matter how mad he was, you knew he loved you more than anything and the fact that you thought, for a second, that he would do something so cruel made you sick to your stomach.

You decided to get your mind off everything that had happened and instead turned on the TV to watch your comfort shows, quickly changing into a pair of joggers and snuggling into the warmth of Jungkook’s bed.

A few hours had passed and before you knew it, you were slowly drifting off to sleep…

You awoke to the sound of the front door quietly closing shut, as if the person walking in knew that the house was asleep. You turned over to see that it was ten minutes to midnight.

Had Jungkook really been out for 5 hours? You thought to yourself, as you stepped out of the duvet and towards the bedroom door. Opening it quietly, you came face to face with the man himself

“Hi,” he said softly. His face looked drained, as he eyed your face. “Can I come in?”

You nodded gently, widening the door so he could slip through. A part of you felt guilty that he had to ask to enter HIS bedroom, but he didn’t give you time to apologise as he started talking.

“Look Y/n, I thought about what you said.” He took your hands and led you to the bed so you were both sat. “I know I’ve been neglecting you these past few weeks. You know how much I truly love you right?”

You nodded again. He sighed, voice cracking. “I was wrong about not putting you first. I guess I was just so caught up in everything with work that I became selfish. I called Taehyung and told him I had plans. It’s just you and me tonight, okay?” A tear streamed down his cheek as you took hold of his face. “Please forgive me Y/n..”

“Baby..” By this time, you were both tearing up. “Of course I forgive you, my love.” You kissed his cheek as he pulled you in by the waist for a cuddle.

“God the thought of you leaving,” Jungkook mumbled into your neck as you embraced each other “The thought of neglecting the one I love. Makes me sick to my stomach.”

You already felt the emotion of comfort wash over you as his scent reached your nose.

“Never again. Okay?” Jungkook said, gently kissing your neck “Never again will I ever make you feel like that.”

The sensation of lips on your neck made you moan softly. His strong hands around your waist already feeling like velvet on your body.

“Let me prove to you how sorry I am princess.” His kisses grew more passionate. His secure arms manoeuvred you now so that you were lying down across the bed. “Let me show you how much I missed you.” By then his fingers were skimming the edge of your shirt, giving you the hint he wanted it off.

You lifted your arms up so that he can slip the clothing off you, immediately searching his face when your lingerie was revealed.

Jungkook threw his back “Oh fuck baby…you’re killing me.” Straight away, his hands went to your boobs, massaging them from the fabric. Your breathy moans filled the air, hands already gently gripping Jungkook’s luscious locks. His face bent down to your chest as his mouth met your exposed cleavage. “Is this what you wanted baby, huh?” Another kiss to your chest “Fucked I missed these.”

While one of his hands caressed your nipple through the bra, the other slid around to your back and clawed at the clasp. You decided to help speed things up, arching your back a bit so you can undo the latch and from there you were left exposed.

“Such pretty tits.” Jungkook whispered, “They’re mine.” His mouth immediately latched onto one, gently lapping at the bud with his tongue.

You whimpered softly. “Kook, stop teasing….I want you.”

His mouth unlatched from your nipple. “Oh princess me too, I gotta get you ready first though okay? Patience my pretty.”

At that, Jungkook returned his kisses to your body. He travelled down your figure, down slowly on your stomach right towards the pit of your pleasure. He stopped at the hem of your leggings.

“Can I take these off, beautiful?” His fingers traced the lining of them. Once you nodded, he hoisted them down slowly. “Ass up beautiful for one second.” he smiled, once the leggings reached your rear.

Once the leggings were off and you were left only in your panties, Jungkook stood up. As he finished taking off his shirt, you admired the way his muscles tensed as he unbuckled his belt and removed his trousers. His raging cock jutted out of his boxers.

You got up onto your knees while on the bed, palming at his dick through his own fabric. He threw his head back as your hand fell over the tip.

“Can I taste you?” you asked politely, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He nodded quickly as he helped you remove his pants. His dick bounced as it was released from the cotton confines of his boxers and immediately you took him into your mouth, wasting no time to deepthroat him.

“Ah fuck!” Jungkook gripped your hair tightly, gently thrusting his hips at the sensation of your warm, sucking throat. “Oh, baby girl you’re taking me so well.”

You pulled back but still had him in your mouth, lapping your tongue around the poignant veins of his cock. The smell of him made you dizzy, partnering with his quiet grunts filled the dark room. His hand pushed at the back of your head, urging you to take him deeper in your mouth once again.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum if you keep on like this…I wanna be inside you.” he pulled out of your mouth, and a string of saliva connected your mouth and his cock together. He bent down and kissed you passionately, tongue exploring your mouth widely.

He whispered against your kisses “Lay down for me baby.”

You obliged. He tugged at your panties gently, inching them down your legs. You were now left bare at his glance. He kissed twice at your stomach before edging down to your pussy. His hot breath emphasised the pit in your stomach.

In a blink of an eye, his mouth was lapping between your folds. Moaning against your clit, the vibrations sent shoots of pleasure through your body as you clawed at Jungkooks hair. His desperate licks edge you closer and closer.

“K-Kook…I’m so close….” your mouth was held open at the amount of pleasure his mouth was giving you. Suddenly, the cold air hit your bare pussy as Jungkook leaned away.

“Not yet baby…need to be inside you…”

Jungkook positioned his cock at your entrance, slowly teasing the tip inside you “ready my angel?”

You nodded. Slowly he pushed into you, making sure you felt every inch of him.

“Oh…god Jungkook!” you clawed at his back, the size of him filling you up. “Y-you’re so big!” His cock quietly quicked the pace, as Jungkook nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. You whimpered at the angle his shaft was pounding you, eyes trained shut at the waves of pleasuring hitting you at every thrust.

“My god baby…you’re so fucking…tight!” His muffled voice vibrated against your neck “I gotta pull out…I’m gonna cum-”

“Cum in me…!” You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist “Fill me up…”

“Oh….gorgeous….It’s so risky…” He removed his face from your neck “.....But you feel so good….”

At that, his pace quicked as his cock pounded at your pussy. Every thrust became a newfound ripple of delight. You felt your stomach tighten as the well-known feeling returned to your body once more.

“B-babe…I’m gonna c-cum!” You threw your head back into the pillows

“Cum on my cock baby….Oh, fuck!” Jungkook exclaimed as your pussy tightened around his dick. Jungkook too felt the familiar feeling of an orgasm in the pit of his stomach

Not too long after as you rode out your pleasure, you felt warmth enter you as Jungkook spilt inside you. With gritted teeth, he once again delved into your neck as he too rode out the other half of his orgasm, still thrusting gently and slowly.

You whimpered quietly as he pulled out and sank next to you. Straight away he pulled you into his arms. “I love you so much. Please never ever forget that okay?”

“Okay, I love you.” You fit right into the pit of his arm as he stroked your hair, both of you exhausted from tonight's actions.

“Hey, Kook? I know it's late but I'm kinda sticky now…”

He chuckled gently “Think it’s time me and you had a shower.”

find out what jungkook did in those five hours here

let me know if you want to be on the taglist for any future work i may post! reblog or send in an ask to show support! ily

2K notes · View notes

the-cat-and-the-birdie · 8 months

Text

I bet Miguel can cook REALLY well.

Like CRAZY WELL.

Being a dad he did have to come up with something to eat for dinner every night

And with Gabriella being a bit picky, sometimes he had to get creative

And some of his favorite memories are the conversations he and Gabbie had while dinner was on the stove

But even now, he loves it. Miguel finds he act of cooking so relaxing. He likes the peace and the order of it

And even if he comes in really really late from HQ - he'll still try and cook something

Fighting sleep while cooking a quesadilla on the stove

He's a Sazon loyalist SORRY ADOBO STANS

There's always tortillas, sour cream and salsa verde in his fridge - freshly made

(if you got those you can figure something out)

And he grows his own cilantro and basil on the window sill

And he'll never use powdered garlic, only fresh

Yes he can eat garlic - yes people on campus ask him that a lot

(he's hot ACTUALLY a vampire)

His seafood is TO DIE FOR

Miguel can make amazing lobster tail, or crab legs (with Old Bay and butter of course)

And his Ceviche is SO GOOD and SO FRESH

Most likely makes everything spicy. It's not even that he 'loves' spicy food - He just makes it spicy AF and acts like he doesn't notice

MEANWHILE you're next to him and it hurts to breathe

He and Hobie are bean stans.

Miguel loves them in Chilli con Carne, with rice, refried, you name it

and Hobie goes through those British blue cans of Heinz baked beans like it's nobodies business

They both think beans are underrated

Makes AMAZING MOLE and even better Tamales

But you have to BEG him for weeks on end to get him to make Tamales cause he can't be bothered - and he will make you help

He likes Avocado, like in general. On toast, with eggs, guacamole use always a staple

He'll often just eat chips and guacamole the whole day in his office and he'll get pissed if the food court is out of it.

Well look at a corn shell ground beef taco and be like 'You think that's a taco? Is that what you honestly believe?'

Loves cooking with other people - in fact Miguel actually just likes working with people in general. That's why Lyla has a personality.

He's good at guiding others during cooking and teaching them things and not bossing them around

OBSESSED LIKE CONCERNINGLY SO

With mango and Tajin

He'll put Tajin seasoning on ANYTHING - the first time Jess saw him put it on watermelon she was like 'what for????'

But he loves fruit in general, watermelon, lychee, guava. A lot of them are grown fresh in the Society gardens

Strawberries are a favorite of his. Gabriella loved strawberries on pancakes

He pronounces lychee - Leechee (not Lie-chee)

He's the fucking PRO at protein shakes and milkshakes

The man needs workout fuel and whey powder and kale and potassium and-

He's in the kitchen 5am getting ready for the gym

Making a shit ton of peanut butter strawberry banana and oats protein smoothie with coconut milk and honey to sweeten

Because he does have a sweet tooth.

Jolly Ranchers are an oral fixation

You can hear him sucking on one, the quiet clacking of it.

Or see him press it into his cheek, lost in thought

But baking and sweets are his secret love

He just doesn't have anyone to test it on anymore - so he doesn't

His flan is the best, and it was one of Gabbie's show faves

He eats parfaits pretty often, and makes them a lot for Jess (and she teases it for it)

Miguel LOVES tres leches cake, as sweet as possible. And fancy stuff like creme brulee

Don't tell anyone but he actually really likes cheesecake he acts like it's a secret

With him cooking get ready for the most sugariest breakfast ever. It's a dad thing.

Whipped cream, fruits, syrup, chocolate chips, you name it.

Sure Miguel shouldn't have been giving Gabriella THAT much sugar THAT early - but with you it's fine so enjoy the stomach ache in two hours

Another dad thing:

COOK OUT FOOD.

Him and Peter get INTENSE.

Miguel swears by charcoal grills, Peter likes propane and gas

Miguel is the tio with the best Hot dogs and relish that HITS

Peter is the burger dad who spends an insane amount of money on Angus beef

Miguel judges your hot dog toppings but says nothing

His ELOTE???? EUPHORIC

Like,,, it'll bring you to tears it's so good - I don't know how he does it

And when it comes to cooking he's ALWAYS willing to learn

He'd rather invite you over and cook you something than going out to eat

He'll learn something you like or where you're from and make something from there

Even better if you can teach him how to make something - the two of you can make it together

But his favorite part by far is setting it down at the table, trying not to seem like he's watching your reaction

And seeing your face light up at the first bite

Or even better -

Seeing you collapse into bed with a food coma

Miguel with cooking and food as a love language

#yes please #spiderman #atsv #marvel #spider man #across the spiderverse #Miguel Ohara #Miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #Miguel O'hara x reader #Miguel Ohara x reader #Miguel x you #gabriella o’hara

671 notes · View notes

callofdudes · 1 year

Text

Slapping their ass-

(Because why not right?)

Ghost

You and Simon had only been dating for six months. While those six months had been rough, you found it rewarding that Simon had come to trust you a little more than before. He allowed you to touch him in private much more than he typically would. He no longer reprimanded you for pulling his mask up enough for a quick kiss. The two of you were sparring when it happened. Ghost threw a right hook which you managed to dodge. You slipped in behind him and as a last minute thought you reached out your hand and slapped him right across the ass. It happened before you knew it happened and both of you froze. He turned to look back at you, eye twitching. There was an uncomfortably long silence where you both just kind of took in the moment. One about to kill and one about to be killed. "Simon... I-"

"Run."

You're not in too much trouble, don't be scared of him ;)

Soap

It was a dare because of course it was. You were sitting on a training mat with Gaz who held your feet as you finished your situps. You were going back over sml banter when you might have let it slip that you thought how cute Soap's ass looked in those stupidly tight workout shorts he sometimes wore on hot days. It was ridiculous not to look at him. Next thing you knew you were locked into the typical peer pressure of a dare. Soap was talking with Price when you walked up super casual. He nodded to your captain and politely smiled at Soap. "Mornin' Soap." He was about to reply when your hand came up behind him and smacked him right on those stupid shorts. You tried not to laugh at the look of shock and walked away. Once he recovered he smirked and ran after you, fully intending to slap you back. When he did, both of you laughed it off. This was a one time thing and totallynotthenewwayyougreeteachotherinthemorning-

Gaz

A mission. Both of you were camped out on a roof top. While you had taken position with your sniper Gaz held his eyes on the three entrances from the building and up to the roof you were both on. You had been sitting there for a grueling fifty minutes, making sure no one was left when you heard the call from Price that you were safe. Almost immediately you both sighed. You dropped the gun and covered your face, feeling about ready to cry you were so relieved. Gaz came over and sat down, smiling at you. "We're all good Y/n." He placed his hand hesitantly on the small of your back. "I think I need a minute." He nodded and patted your back and got up. When you were ready you got up and met him by the ladder with your stuff. He started going to the ladder last and on the way you reached your hand up and slapped him as hard as you could. "That's for scaring me back there." He froze for a second before nodding. "Can we continue this at home??" He's asking for a friend.

Price

Price was not having a fun day. In fact, he was having a, for lack of a better word, a shit day. He has been sitting there doing paperwork for what felt like hours. He admitted that his body relaxed when you walked in. You carried a warm cup of coffee in one hand and some food from the mess hall in the other. "Figured you'd be in here. Doing ok?" He nodded and stood, kissing you when you reached his desk. You placed down the items in your hands and rubbed his cheek. "Don't be too hard on yourself. I still need you in working order y'know." He scoffed. "And for what necessity would I need to be working, love?" You kissed his cheek again. "Don't get cocky now." His hands moved down to your spine to caress your hips. "Never." You both chuckled softly. You pulled away to let him sit, but as he was turning around he felt your hand slap him hard across the ass. He whipped around and you knew to run. You made it almost to the door before his body slammed into you. He pressed you against the wall and raised your arms above your head. "Whatever will I do with you." He chuckled. You didn't leave that office for a good bit. :)

König

You were late to the mess hall. You had guests over so the night before had been a hectic mix of parting and games. Probably wasn't the best thing in the world, but your hangover was only mild at most.

When you walked in everyone was at their tables talking to each other. You almost didn't notice that mountain of a man by the mess hall table of food until you got there. König was flipping through what looked to be a news paper absent mindedly, with no care for your existence. Poor thing was probably feeling to shy to sit down.

You grabbed your food but before going to your table you reached your hand down and slapped his ass, accompanied by your firm grip to get his attention. He whipped around, shaking and spluttering surprised. Everyone looked at the two of you, causing him to panic and attempt to hide himself again. "Come sit with me." You urged in a not so friendly tone. You could see him shaking in either fear or embarrassment. He grabbed his food, muttering as he followed you to a table.

Alejandro

He did it to you first. And after he did, the little shit took every precaution to make sure you couldn't physically do it back. He had cornered you by the wash hall and slapped you hard enough to mark with a comment about your previous nights escepades. You had been embarrassed, but Rodolfo was regularly exposed to your interesting relationship to care much. He just continued on and started to shower like nothing had happened. You forgot about the Cartel and every heist, scheme, robbery. Your new mission was to get him back. And you did. The poor boys when they first met you they knew they were in for it. Alejandro had gotten out to greet the guests, and you felt inclined to as well. That and the seating arrangement needed to change. So when he opened the door for Ghost you saw your opportunity. Before he could get another word out you slapped him so hard across that stupid little ass of his he just went wide eyes. Jaw open. You smirked and loudly proclaimed, "Finally! Dumb Vaquero!" He turned back to you and smirked. "Mi vida, guests." You stuck out your tongue. "Which means you can't do nothing about it." You were wrong. He did do something about it. He was still very proud you managed to one-up him.

Rodolfo

You were making breakfast and casually talking. The others weren't quite up yet, so you two had made a point to be quite. Rodolfo had an apron to keep his uniform clean, which to yours and everyone else's realization made his hips just that more prominent. He was casually flipping an egg when you walked by to grab the flower. Your hand slipped from your pocket and full on grabbed this man's ass. He gasped when you let go and turned to berate you. He scolded you as blush saturated his cheeks. His pink nose reminding you of a certain reindeer. You smiled. "What will you do about it?" Your smile didn't last long. He pulled you by the strap of your sweater, slammed you into the sink bent over and smacked you as hard as he could with the spatula in his hand. Rodolfo leaned into your ear and huffed. "Don't do that again, or next time I might not be so nice." Needless to say you did it again.

First time doing this, hope it was ok ✌️😅

2K notes · View notes

b4tasquad · 10 months

Note

Can I ask for a filly imagine?? Something like the guys finding out that he's seeing soneone?

MESMERISED: YUNG FILLY

Authors note: no you’re not mistaken… b4tasquad actually posted for someone that isn’t Niko😭 love love filly, so here’s this🫶

Warnings: none!

…

“What the fuck is up with you, man?” Filly, who had been previously giggling, looks up from his phone. For the past hour or so he had completely ignored all of his friends, instead texting you as the two of you made it a habit to send the funniest videos you could find. “You’re grinning like a mad man.”

Chunkz is not impressed as they’re currently loosing the match which they had been paired against Aj and Sharky for. He had noticed his best friend’s weird behaviour weeks ago. It was when he’d arrive to their meet-ups with his thoughts elsewhere, eyes shining and the weirdest explanations to back up his lateness.

“Don’t tell me it’s that gyal you won’t tell me about” Aj pauses the game, too invested in the topic to continue playing. Sharky himself is turned around to get the tea himself. At Filly’s silence, Chunkz rolls his eyes. “ Why won’t you show me her? You make it seem like she’s facially deformed with the way you’re hiding her.”

“You’re so fucking funny.” Filly counters, not being cool with his brother talking about his girl like that. Sure, Chunkz didn’t know you, curtesy of the agreement between you and Filly to keep it hidden, but he still didn’t appreciate what he was insinuating. To Filly, you were genuinely the most beautiful girl ever.

“You know I’m joking, bruva.” Chunkz laughs, and it’s impossible to stay mad at him.

“And besides, if she got you this hooked, she must be beautiful.” Sharky, the most respectful person says.

“Or mystery girl must be providing him the most pussy- whipping ride ever.” Aj’s quick to move off of the couch, protecting himself as Filly’s whole body comes at him. “I’m joking! I’m joking!”

The Colombian relaxes against the couch again, a smile resting on his face as he gets a new message from you. To this day, 6 months into your relationship, he had managed to keep you somehow hidden, but now he just couldn’t.

“She’s just so perfect you know?” He breaths out. “Every thing she does or says I repeat in my mind and play it in slow motion, because I’m just so…”

“Mesmerised?” Chunkz tries and his friend nods.

“Exactly!” Chunkz, Aj and sharky were literally known for violating at all times, but right now as they saw the absolute love on their friend’s face, they couldn’t help but admire it. “This isn’t just simping. I genuinely believe that she’s the only one for me. I get sick thinking about other girls, let alone even touching them-“

“Okay now.” His best friend stops him with a laugh. “Mandem’s getting a little too carried away.”

“Sounding like he’s putting a ring on it today.”

Filly pushes his friend, as the thought of marrying you gets in his head. “Shut up Aj. I’ve had enough of you.”

A couple hours later, Filly is sat against the couch, bowl of his favourite Colombian dish in hand. You were positioned between his legs, eyes moving from the tv in front of you to your food once in a while. Waking up today, you were feeling extra appreciative of your boyfriend and everything he did for you. He always went above and beyond to make sure the smile on your face never faltered and while it was just casual acts of giving for him. You looked at it entirely different.

As a person who had never experienced this level of kindness in a relationship, there weren’t enough words to describe the gratitude you felt towards him. In an attempt to try and show some of it, you had recreated a dish from his home country you knew he loved. It took you hours, a change of clothing and three different recipes, but in the end you had done it.

Filly noticed the second he walked into your home, the smell being a clear giveaway. Running into the kitchen, very childlike, he took a hold of your jaw to pepper kisses all over your face. You were sure your makeup would be ruined, but you didn’t mind, and it didn’t seem like he cared about having a little product on him either. He thanked you with the most genuine smile you had ever seen on a person, muttering Spanish words as he hugged you. With your little Spanish ability, you could faintly translate them to affectionate names he had called you in the past.

That brings you to now, the two of you cuddled up against each other as you watched a Netflix series you had been begging him to watch with you for months. As a particular scene that always managed to rile you up played, you could hear the faint gasp from your boyfriend as he puts down your food.

“Did that just happen?”

You nod as you copy his actions of putting away the food. There wasn’t anything more you hated than that scene as you could practically feel the betrayal through the screen.

Filly just looks baffled at the screen. “Wait why would she set her friend up? Lying to her like that.”

“Because she’s a bitch?” Turning around, you instead opt to lay with your chest on his. Taking a hold of his jaw, you slowly start to caress it. “Not everyone’s such a loyal friend like you, Felipé.”

He laughs at the use of his actual name, and not the username he had became accustomed to. “The govy? Wow you must really mean it.”

“I do” you hum, connecting your lips with his. With the awkward position you’re laid in, filly instead pulled both your legs on either side of his body, making you sit on him properly. As he trails his kisses from your mouth and to your neck, you giggle. “You basically tell them everything.”

Your words had no intention behind them, but filly stops and pulls away from you as he remembers what he had told them just hours ago. He wasn’t too sure how you would feel if you knew, but there was no doubt that telling you was better than lying about it. So with a a painful sigh, he rubs at his temple.

“Listen.” He drags out, making it sound much worse than it actually is.

Seeing the look of utter terror on your face, filly shakes his head quickly. “No, no. It’s nothing like that.” The Colombian reassures you, knowing you were thinking to deep into it. You cross your arms, still sat on top of him, as you wait for his words. “I might’ve let it slip that you and I-”

“No”

“Yeah.” He confirms, scratching the back of his neck.

“What happened?” You’re quick to ask, just wanting to know who, and why he had told his friends about the two of you when you had agreed to keep it to yourself for a while.

“I was hanging out with the guys and you and I were texting. Long story short Chunkz was like ‘I know you’ve got a gyal, you’re all in love, who is she’ and I just couldn’t hold it in ya’know? I just love you so much and-”

You cut his words of with a firm kiss, sensing how nervous he was becoming. Filly kisses you back with the same intensity, only managing to relax under your comforting touch. Once the two of you pull away, he’s quick to question you.

“Are you mad?”

You just smiled, finding it cute that he was this worried. Figuring it was from a place of care, you shook your head. “How could I be mad at you?”

Filly huffs a breath of air in happiness, a little grin on his face, and it’s probably the best thing you’ve ever witnessed.

…

Tag list:

@p3drii , @jiusz , @n1kodl , @shuuuuush , @w1shes43 , @alltoowill0w, @slutforpablogavi

(Check pinned to be added!)

#yung filly #foot asylum #beta squad #✭b4tasquad speaks #chunkz #Aj shabeel #youtube #sharky #yung filly x reader #yung filly x you

496 notes · View notes

gaywalker80085 · 5 months

Text

Flat pt 3

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

Genre: smut 18+, angst, fluff

Summary: You think this relationship could actually go somewhere. What happens when Natasha finds out the full truth of what you do for work and what it entails

Warnings: top!reader, bottom!Natasha, angry/make-up sex, Strap-on (r giving), oral (r giving), drinking, guns, and arguing (don't worry Alana is not affected I made it so she's away during the conflict.)

A/N: Hey sorry it took so long for this to be put out I just wasn't in the mood to write whenever I had time. Unless there are requests put in this is the end of the Flat series. I hope y'all like it I know part 2 was kinda dry but I needed it to get from part 1 to here without any big plot holes (hopefully no big plot holes at least). But I hope you like it. Also not proof read because who has the time.

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Side part

Your week taking Alana to school had gone without a hitch. You were twice as careful to not be late and y'all had fun over the week. She went to her dad's on Friday to go on a week-long vacation with him.

It's now Sunday, you and Natasha are going on a date to a nice restaurant that you happen to own but she doesn't know that. You both decided to dress up for the fun of it.

The date is at 7 and it's currently 4 and you're panicking but luckily Wanda has come over to help you. "You're taking her to a restaurant you own. Damn, that's cheap." She says to you and you roll your eyes before looking at her. "Oh shut up, she chose it I just got lucky. Plus at least I know I like the food."

"Well, what are you going to wear? You only have a little under 3 hours you know." She tells you and you whip your head towards her and start pacing "I don't even know. What if I wear something and she thinks it's absolutely atrocious." You say starting to get even more worried.

In the midst of your panic, you didn't notice Wanda getting up until she places her hands on both of your shoulders. "Y/N it's fine I will help you. What color is she wearing, do you know?" You nod your head before telling her. "Red," Wanda smirks at you and turns to start fishing through your closet.

She emerges with a black button-up with red on the inside, black pants, and dress shoes. "She will definitely like this one. Why haven't you worn this before?" She asks you. "Uh, I didn't know I owned that." You say genuinely clueless to how that got into your closet.

"Well besides that start putting it on." She says walking over to where you keep your accessories and jewelry. You got dressed and as you were putting your shoes on she came over with a silver chain and a few rings. You put them on and stand up.

"Okay, so you're dressed. What about that rat's nest head of hair you've got going on?" She says with a raised eyebrow pointing at your head. "What do you mean rats nest I don't even have any knots. You're just a hater." You say going to get your product.

You spray your head (I have hair milk but you can pretend to apply whatever you like) and move your hair around to your liking before turning back to Wanda. "So?" You ask. "Good but let me see." She says pushing your hair around a little bit. "Okay better." She says and you turn back to look into the mirror. "It looks the same." "Yeah but better because I touched it." She says and you roll your eyes.

You spray yourself with cologne and head out the door leaving Wanda in your house to leave when she pleases. You decide to drive your dodge charger today because why not. On your way to Natashas, you don't forget to grab flowers obviously.

You pull up and walk up to Natasha's door. You feel nervous even though you've been on multiple dates before and you literally stayed at her house for a week. She just has that effect. You raise your hand to knock on the door and it swings open.

Natasha is wearing black heels and a red dress that stops just above her knees and also has a low neckline. You seem to be appreciated that low neckline for a little too long because Natasha reaches her hand out under your chin to lift your head up. You see her smirking and muster out a quiet "Hi baby."

You stand there for another few seconds before pulling yourself together. You stand up straighter and extend your arm to hand her the flowers. She takes them before turning around and walking inside with you close behind her. "You have to stop bringing me flowers I have too many." She says as she puts them into a vase that already has some.

"What do you want me to buy you instead then?" You ask her as she rounds the kitchen island towards you and wraps her arms around your neck. "Mmmm, I don't know you don't have to buy me anything you already refuse to let me pay when we go out." You place your hands on her waist pulling her even closer to you.

"Yeah but I like buying you things." You say trying to put on a pout even though yours will never be as good as hers. She brings one of her hands to the side of your face pulling you down towards her lips before just barely touching them together. Right, when you start to close the gap she pulls away and pats your chest. "Let's go we can't miss our reservation."

She turns towards the door grabbing her jacket on the way out and you jog a little to catch up with her. Once you do you grab her hand leading her towards your car. Once you get there you open her door as per usual. "Always such a gentleman." She says and you smile looking away to hide the redness creeping up your face.

You get in the car with Natasha control the music and start driving. You get to your restaurant and walk-in holding Natasha's hand. The second the hostess sees you she waves you over and takes yall to a private room.

After she leaves Natasha looks at you "You didn't have to get a private room you spend too much money on me." Before you can respond the waiter comes in "Oh hey Ms. Y/L/N what can I get you." Natasha looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "Vodka and juice." You say "I'll have an orange crush." Natasha says sending him a smile.

"Oh yeah, I actually needed to ask you about some time off." He says and your breath catches. Before you could pass as being a regular but now there really is no other explanation than you being the boss. "When and why?" You say as calmly as you can muster. "August 10th through the 18th for a family vacation." He says noticing he shouldn't have brought this up now. "If you can find someone to cover you then yes." You say and He smiles before walking away.

You all of a sudden feel Natasha kick you in the leg. "Why didn't you tell me you owned a restaurant? More importantly, the one we're eating at." She says glaring at you. "Uh, I don't know I didn't think it was very interesting." You say not meeting her eyes. She can tell that's not all but she doesn't push it for now.

You both order and receive your meals. You both talk the whole time about random subjects laughing. "So when are we going back to my house?" She asks you running her foot up your leg. "Whenever you want." You say with a smirk.

Just as you're about to stand up Bucky comes busting in the door. "They're here." He says before looking over to give Natasha a small wave. You throw your head back groaning "You're fucking joking." You say reaching for Natasha's hand. "Who's here?" She says scrunching her eyebrows, placing her hand in yours.

"Some.. unpleasant business associates." You tell her. You help her put her jacket on before grabbing her waist and giving her a quick kiss. "Can I have Bucky take you home and I'll meet you there after I'm done with this?" You ask her. She looks a little upset but nods. "Take her through the back. You don't let them see her." You tell Bucky sternly. "I know I know." He says throwing his hands up before grabbing Natasha's.

You end up having to fight Zemo and his crew along with some help from your men. The few left of them by the end started to run and you busted out the door after them. The only problem though was one of them waited for you to do that and shot you in the side near your hip.

Bucky came out after hearing the shot and saw you bleeding. He shot the guy running away before coming to your side. "Damn that looks like it hurts." He says with a smile. You give him a sarcastic smile before hitting him upside the head "Yeah you think." You say before starting to walk to your car.

You couldn't decide whether to go to your house or Natashas. You tried to tend to the wounds in your car. You try to stop the bleeding from your side and clean up some cuts on your face but you couldn't really tell if you did a sufficient job. Once you pull up to Natashas and hobble up to the door you find it unlocked. Your stomach is in your throat hoping she left it unlocked for you and it's not unlocked for other reasons.

When you walk in she's standing there glaring at you and you feel even more scared than before. "Hi, baby." You say trying to smile at her and make your hand on your hip look as natural as possible. "Don't 'baby' me what was that." She asks you stepping closer and you look at the ground. "Oh, it's fine just some people I don't get along with no big deal." Natasha doesn't respond so you look up at her. The second she sees the cuts on your face she walks all the way to you gently cradling it.

"What happened to your face? Come." She says grabbing your hand that was on your side. "You should see the other guy." You say. She leads you to the bathroom connected to her bedroom and makes you sit on the toilet. Sitting though doesn't seem to agree with your bullet wound and you try not to groan too loud at the pain.

Natasha grabs her first aid kit out from under her sink and that's when she notices the blood all over her hand. She holds her hand up putting the other on her hip "Where did this come from?" She asks and you stand up holding your breath to try and ease the pain. You walk up to her putting one of your hands on her face. "I'm fine baby really I can take care of this myself." You try to tell her. "Yeah no I'm not good with that now where did it come from?" She says again pushing you back towards the toilet.

You don't sit down and instead pull your shirt up to show her the wound. "YOU WERE TRYING TO HIDE A BULLET WOUND FROM ME?!" She yells at you. "It's just a flesh wound I'm fine." You say reaching for the first aid kit. "It's literally going through you. Turn." She says and you turn as told. "Lucky you, there's an exit hole. Now sit." She demands you.

"Aren't I usually the one telling you what you do after dates?" You say reaching for her waist and pulling her towards you. "Shut up." Is all she says before she looks away trying to hide her cheeks flushing. You reach up and bring her face down to yours. You softly kiss her rubbing her cheek with your thumb.

"Stop it I have to clean you up before you get an infection." She says trying to be as serious as possible. She starts softly cleaning and bandaging the wounds on your face. You stare at her the whole time thinking about how beautiful she looks when she concentrates. "Take a picture it'll last longer." She says trying to hide a smile."

Once she finishes your face she gets on her knees between your legs. Now you really can't stop staring and thinking about what's in your pants and how much you want to use it right about now. She unbuttons your shirt so she can get a better look. You bend down to try and kiss her but she pushes you away by your shoulder. "I'm still mad at you." She tells you with a hardened stare.

"I'm sorry I don't know what else you want me to say." You tell her reaching out to cup her cheek. "Nothing right now. Once I finish this you're going to bed." She tells you. "What why can't we deal with it right now?" You ask her. Instead of responding she starts putting a few stitches in the entry wound.

"OW. YOU COULDN'T HAVE WARNED ME?!" You exclaim gritting your teeth. She doesn't respond just pushing you so she can do the back. Once she's done she stands to start cleaning up and you come behind her wrapping your arms around her waist and placing your chin on her shoulder.

She straightens up crossing her arms and glaring at you through the mirror. "I'm sorry baby." You tell her softly. "Seems like that's the only thing you know how to say right now." She says before continuing to clean. "I don't know what else you want me to say. Tell me I'll say whatever you want."

When she's done picking up she turns to you and jabs her finger into your chest. "Why don't you 'say' how some 'unpleasant associates' showing up turns into you getting shot. Why don't you 'say' what you really do for work. Like really I have no idea what you do and we've been going out for months." She exclaims pushing you out of the way with her finger so she can leave the room.

"My job doesn't really have a title I just do what I do." You say and she turns to you throwing her hands in the air. "THEN WHAT DO YOU DO?" She says taking her dress off and you have to remind yourself now is not the time. "I have people that work for me and I own a lot of the city in some way. But sometimes people want some of my power in some way or some of my properties. People sometimes steal from me and I just deal with that. It's fine." You say and she turns to you in disbelief "You're a FUCKING CRIME BOSS?" She yells at you.

"Well, I wouldn't say that."

"THEN WHAT WOULD YOU SAY?"

"Well uh, maybe an entrepreneur."

"YOU KNEW HOW DANGEROUS YOUR JOB WAS AND YOU STILL CAME AROUND ME AND MY DAUGHTER?" She says walking till she's right in your face.

"Woah that's too far. You know I would never do anything that could put you or Allana in harm's way." You say starting to get angry that she would ever accuse you of such a thing.

"DO I KNOW THAT, BECAUSE I'M STARTING TO FEEL LIKE I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING?" She says and you try to reach out for her but she pulls away hurting you more than you'd like to admit.

"First off you need to stop yelling. Second of course I would never put you in danger." You tell her to try and keep cool. "I WILL STOP YELLING WHEN YOU STOP LYING." She says walking past you, shoulder checking you in the process. "Natasha I never lied to you." You tell her following her into the bathroom.

She doesn't respond and instead starts brushing her teeth. You throw your hands in the air shaking your head and decide to get ready for bed. You take your clothes off until you're left in your boxers. You walk back to the bathroom to find her putting her toothbrush away so you start brushing your teeth.

You come out of the bathroom and she's standing there waiting for you. "You didn't lie but you left things out on purpose and that's just as bad." She says with her arms crossed. You walk until you're a foot apart and try to reach out for her but she pulls away again. "I'm sorry, I am it didn't even cross my mind at first, and then once it did I wanted to establish us a little more before I told you."

She turns around and starts to walk out of the bedroom. "Natasha." That is all you say before you start to follow after her. "Natasha, can you stop and just talk to me please." She stops dead in her tracks and turns to you with tears streaming down her face looking even angrier than before. "Can you just get out of my house please?"

You suddenly feel the full weight of the argument including the lump forming in your throat. A small "What?" Is all you can muster. She sternly says "Get out." Starting to push you towards the door. "Natasha please."

"Get out, get out, get out."

"Natasha."

"Get out, get out."

She just keeps saying it sobbing and the closer you get to the door the harder it is to keep the tears in. Once you're probably 10 feet from the door the tears come. She pauses for a second at the sight of your tears. You have a certain dad vibe that makes it extra sad to see you cry and she has to resist the urge to pull you towards her and rub your back.

You realize she probably won't change her mind about you leaving and if you stay you probably won't get much done considering all of the emotions. You drop your head and start walking to your car. Natasha watches you partially hoping you turn back around.

A few days pass and you haven't heard anything from Natasha but you also haven't contacted her. You have however picked up your phone around 100 times typing up messages you contemplate sending. You've obviously been in a slump barely keeping yourself alive without the help of Bucky. You're sitting there still sulking to yourself when your phone goes off. You grab it and your heart stops when you read who it's from. Natasha. "Come over at 6."

You immediately shoot up from your desk rushing to your house. You dress in a simple black short-sleeved shirt with black cargo pants that have a chain on the side. You stop to grab her a teddy bear on the way there not knowing what to get besides flowers.

When you arrive you knock softly on the door, the door opens and your head is hung low scared to face her. When she doesn't speak you look up "Hi baby." You say and she doesn't say anything turning around and walking away but leaving the door open.

"Uh, I got you this." You say walking up to her when she stops. You use the moment to take in her appearance. She's wearing your sweatshirt and some lounge shorts that you can barely tell are there. She reaches out and takes it looking at it instead of you. She wraps her arms around it and steps forwards pushing herself into you for you to hold her. "Why did you come?" She asks you catching you off guard. "Because you asked me to." You tell her confused and she's silent before pulling back to look at you.

"Why didn't you text me?" She asks you. "I didn't know if you'd want to hear from me." You tell her softly and she looks down, eyes brimming with tears. "You should've texted me anyways." She tells you furrowing her eyebrows and trying to keep the tears in. "I'm sorry baby." Is all you can think to say. "I know who you are. Fully." She says backing up.

"Baby." "No, why didn't you tell me. The true reason." She asks you. You hang your head low because you know the answer and you know she knows. "I've done things okay, and I do things but I'm not a bad person." You try to explain "I didn't ask for excuses about why I asked why." She says jabbing your chest with her finger. "Because I hurt people." You say still not looking at her. "Do you even care about me and my daughter or were you going to kill us too if I broke up with you."

"What, Natasha no I would never hurt either of you." You try to plead meeting her eyes and reaching out for her, grabbing her hand. "Well, how do I know that since I apparently know nothing about you." "Baby you have to believe me-" "No I don't because I don't trust you anymore. I don't know why I did I know better than that" She says pushing her finger into your chest harder. "I wanted to tell you I swear I was just scared, and those people are all criminals who have done far worse than me."

"The bottom line is you're violent. You've brought your violence and the people associated with it into my home, around my daughter." She says looking into your eyes like she wants you to drop dead, tears starting to stream down her face. "But that doesn't matter to you does it because you don't care." "No, baby-"

"WHY DO YOU STICK AROUND IF YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME." "Natasha what I-." "AM I JUST TOO GOOD OF A HOOKUP TO PASS ON?" "Natasha" "IS THAT WHAT I AM TO YOU?" "NATASHA" At that she bursts into harder tears and throws herself into you.

You immediately wrap your arms around her holding her tight. "I just wanted you to care about me." That is all she says before pulling away and you don't know what to do. "Natasha I do care about you." "Really it doesn't seem like it." That is all she says still walking away.

"Yeah, I do I don't understand how that's so hard to grasp."

"Maybe because you've been indirectly lying to me about being a murderer for months and that's not really what people that care do."

"I did that because I was scared of losing you and I'm not just some serial killer it comes with the job," You say sternly.

"What about my daughter?"

"What?"

"WHAT ABOUT MY DAUGHTER? YOU JUST PUT HER IN HARMS WAY. YOU KNOW I'M A MOM RIGHT. YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THIS AFFECTS HER TOO. IF YOU CARED ABOUT HER OR ME YOU WOULD'VE AT LEAST TOLD ME FOR HER."

"I DO CARE. OF COURSE, I CARE I LOVE HER, I LOVE YOU. IF I WAS AN ACTUAL DANGER I WOULDN'T HAVE GOTTEN INVOLVED WITH YOU BUT IT'S NOT I HAVE IT UNDER CONTROL."

Natasha just stands in front of you before rushing at you and pulling you into a searing kiss. You wrap your arms as tightly around her as you can. She starts to untuck your shirt from your pants but you quickly grab her wrists "Natasha I don't know you're really upset right now." She brings her hands to your face holding your face just over hers. "Do you want me?" She asks her eyes boring into yours. "Natasha." You say trying to hold your resolve. "Do you." She says not breaking eye contact. You nod and whisper "Always."

She moves to leave open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck. She gets your shirt untucked and touches your stomach with her cold hand making the muscles beneath it twitch. Noticing you're still holding back she grips your jaw pulling you to face her. "Fuck me. Now." She demands you and you can't help crashing your lips against hers.

You quickly wrap your hands under her thighs and lift her not patient enough to wait for her to jump. Your tongues fight for dominance with you coming out on top. You walk to her bedroom pushing her against the door. She drags her nails through your hair and down your neck.

You wrap your hand around her throat pushing her harder against the door. She lets out a moan followed by a whine trying to push her head forwards to continue kissing you. You move to her neck to leave open-mouth kisses along with it. "Mark me." She says making you falter. She takes the opportunity to grab you by the jaw and pulls you to look into your eyes. "And fuck me like you mean it while you're at it." She says rolling her hips and your self-control is completely broken.

You move quickly and start leaving dark marks along her throat, chest, and shoulders. She rolls her hips against you when she feels your piece. She starts grinding down hard searching for the friction she desires. You pull away from the door and start walking towards the bed.

You throw her down on the bed before you crawl up to her and place one of your knees between her legs pushing it into her core. She lets out a moan quickly starting to grind down. The second your head is level with hers she grabs your head to pull you back down into a heated kiss. Despite being caught in the moment you still know in the back of your mind that Natasha has every right to hate you and to tell you to get out right now so you decide teasing her isn't worth it.

You move to start kissing her neck again but after the first kiss, she's already impatient. "Y/N." "Yes, baby?" you ask snaking your hands up the inside of her sweatshirt as she squirmed trying to get away from your cold hands. "Please." She begs and you waste no time getting to work.

Later in the night you Natasha has fallen asleep but you can't seem to follow. You were deflecting earlier you really did put them into harms way and you can't stop from hating yourself for it. You can't decide if you could ever truly keep them safe from who you are. The monster you are.

You decide it's best for them to be kept as far away from the danger as possible. As far away from you as possible.

You quietly gather your things before writing Natasha a note and placing it on the nightstand. You lean down to give Natasha a kiss for the last time and kiss her on the forehead.

"I'm sorry." Is all you whisper before turning to walk out the door.

Taglist: @winterstorm311 @rice-wiife @lost-mortemanghel @r3dheadenthusiast @cd-4848 @diaryoflife

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Side part

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff #bottom!natasha #natasha romanoff x reader #top!reader #milf!natasha #milf!nat #milf!natasha romanoff #natasha smut #natalia alianovna romanova #bottom natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x you #bottom nat #bottom nat is just so 😵‍💫😵‍💫#natasha romanoff x dom!reader #natasha romanoff imagine

268 notes · View notes

butididntpourthewhiskeys · 8 days

Text

Homebodies

A little fluff for your TTPD weekend.

~~~

“No I promise, just sit down, I’ll be done in just a minute, mom.” she says firmly in response to her mother asking if she needs any help in the kitchen. Travis just gives Andrea that one look she’s grown to know too well. His eyebrows raised an inch and a smirk on his face that tells the blonde woman he’s got her daughter all figured out.

Leave it to me.

She giggles quietly at Travis, then slowly walks back into the living room to sit down next to Scott. Travis looks at all the different dishes on the counter behind her. The California sun is slowly setting. He should’ve known this morning when she announced that she’ll cook ‘a few Italian primi piatti’ that the ruthless perfectionist lurking inside of his girlfriend would finally make a come back on this Friday. After running around all day, going to the gym, completing her cardio challenge, baking cupcakes for her parents, finishing a work meeting, discussing a music video concept with her team and signing a few new contracts, she of course decided to hit the delicacy shop she loves out here in LA, just to buy all the ingredients she needs for a total of six different Italian dishes that she wants to make for him and her parents tonight. He knows too well by now that whenever Taylor is in this state of mind, there’s no stopping her. If she sets her mind onto something, there’s nothing anyone can say or do to make her loosen up a little. Even if that would involve her actually enjoying this quiet evening with him and her family instead of standing in the kitchen for a solid two hours now, not having had a single conversation with any one of her parents yet.

“What else needs to be done? I can cut veggies? I’m good at cutting stuff.” he tries one last time, steals a carrot stick from her cutting board and starts munching. While stirring the big blue Dutch oven in front of her, she looks back at him for a second, stressed, clearly not amused that he’s eating her uncooked food.

“No, all good. I just need to make sure the risotto won’t thicken too much and once that’s done you guys can sit down and eat the carpaccio before it gets soggy because I need to take the bread out of the oven and quickly scrap together the bruschetta sauce..”

Travis just sighs deeply, takes a step closer towards her. She’s too stressed whipping up the food in front of her to even notice him trying to get closer.

“How about we just let the bruschetta be? We’ve got so much food, babe. It’s just us four. It’s also really late already.”

She shakes her head, not responding to him and he knows that if he pushes her any more now, she might actually get mad at him tonight.

“How about I start cutting some tomatoes for the bruschetta then?” he says with a sigh, finally gave into her obsession with the tomato bread. For a moment she looks up at him, a weak smile on her face. It immediately lights up his entire body.

“That would be great.” she just says, still a bit hesitant and he knows why. She’s not sure if she should be happy that he’s offering to help her, or if she should be worried about the fact that he might cut off his fingers while doing so.

“Sure.” he says, can see the washed and perfectly ripe tomatoes sitting in the drain by the sink right next to her. He grabs one of the tomatoes, holds it up in the air with a question mark on his face.

“Little cubes?”

She nods, a smile on her face.

“Thanks, Trav.” she says then, still busy stirring the risotto in front of her. She doesn’t even notice that he gets closer to her, and fast enough has stolen her cheek a gentle kiss. She giggles all surprised about his gentleness, then feels him lean in again after a second.

“You’re very welcome, crazy.”

Another kiss leaving her cheek. She just giggles, continues stirring her risotto.

_________

“Taylor, that was absolutely incredible.”

She smiles proudly at her father sitting across from her, takes one last sip from her white wine.

“Thanks so much. So glad you liked it.”

“Honey, it was delicious but you didn’t have to put in all this work just because we’re visiting.” Andrea says, her tone a bit more dunning than Scott’s was before. Taylor just rolls her eyes, a bit annoyed that everyone around her acts like she reinvented the wheel with this Italian dinner. Yes, it was some cooking time to prepare this meal, but she loves hosting and loves being a cook. Her mom should know that better than anyone.

“Tay loves spoiling our guests.” Trav says then, and Taylor looks up at the big man sitting next to her. She starts smiling. Our guests. It was a simple sentence. But it made her feel a certain way. He’s home. This has become his home, too.

“I do. Also, this is Trav’s favorite dish. So..”

“Hey, don’t put this on me now.” He says quickly, jokingly holds up his hands in an innocent gesture that makes the whole table laugh. Taylor can’t help but giggle, too. She playfully hits him in the side.

“I gained fifteen pounds since December, Scott. Fifteen pounds.” he says dramatically to both Andrea and Scott, who amusedly witness the interaction between him and Taylor.

“That’s a good sign, though.” her father laughs, especially because his daughter starts hitting the man’s upper arm some more, looking deeply shocked from him, to her mom and back at Travis again.

“Do not even start blaming me for that. Every time I have food laying around he eats it. That’s not on me.”

Andrea starts laughing, and so does Scott. Travis just rolls his eyes playing pretend, sips one last time on his wine glass before looking at the blonde woman in the black top sitting next to him, giving him a playful side eye. She looks absolutely gorgeous as always, but there’s something in her eyes that gives her away. She’s exhausted. Deeply exhausted and tired, but he knows she won’t ever admit to it.

Without countering her some more, Travis just places his wine glasses in front of him, then wanders with his right hand to her head. He starts gently caressing her hair, wandering down to her neck then, where his thumbs draw some soft and slow circles. He can see her eyes getting smaller and her smile getting softer. His touch helps her let her guard down slowly. But she’s not the only one sitting around this table smiling quietly. Both of her parents witness his gentle gesture silently, a smile on both their faces, unsure if they’ve ever seen their daughter look as loved and taken care of as she does right now.

“You had three hours of sleep last night. How are you even still upright?”

She giggles, his hand now leaving her neck and reaching for her cold left hand.

“Jetlag and being tired is a choice.”

Andrea starts laughing. She knows just as much as Travis that this is the most ridiculous saying her daughter comes up with whenever she’s urged to slow down a little.

“Mhm. Sure.” he just says laughingly, knowing damn well that there’s no arguing with her tonight. Within less than two seconds, she gets up, starts cleaning the dinner table.

“How about you start picking a movie and we do the dishes.” Andrea now takes initiative but before she can even finish her sentence, Taylor shakes her head and makes sure to grab the used plates quicker than her mother can.

“Absolutely not. Trav will go pick a movie with you guys, I’m gonna quickly clean up and feed the cats and join you then.”

“I can feed the cats, babe.” the man who just got up right next to her tries once more but she shakes her head.

“No, please pick a movie with mom and dad.” She asks him with a serious look on her face and he sighs, just shakes his head in disbelief, knowing damn well that he’s got to let her be her obsessive self tonight.

“Alright guys, what do you want to watch?”

_________

“Why is it so quiet in here…”

“Because we are waiting for you, honey.” Scott says from the living room couch, looking at Taylor who stands in the now clean and shiny kitchen preparing the bowls for her cats.

“No, just start the movie already. I’ll be there in a second.” she says, really doesn’t want them to have to wait any longer. After all, it’s past nine already now. The view onto her little backyard is pitch black, and she knows her parents are still jet lagged, too.

“Absolutely not.” Travis says from the very right couch on which he sits, giving her that look she loves so much. With the remote control in his hand, as comfortable as he can be, he smiles at her, looking right into her eyes somehow even though this massive living room is dividing them.

“You can’t miss the beginning. It’s the most important part of this movie.”

“Alright, alright, give me one second.” she says, places the bowls in front of the three impatient cats waiting for their dinner, and washes her hands with her favorite lavender soap in the big kitchen sink one last time.

“Do you guys have drinks? Do you need any snacks, or ice cream? Trav, do we still have the…”

“We have everything, honey. Now enough with all this madness. Sit down on your ass. Now!” Andrea says in a new tone, which Travis hadn’t experienced before. It makes him smile though. Suddenly, Taylor just nods, turns off the lights in the kitchen and finally, after what felt like an eternity, makes her way up to her family lounging in the living room. Travis smiles at the beauty in front of him, immediately opens his arms for her to sit down next to him.

“Come on, babe. Lay down.” he just mumbles, gets comfortable on the big couch himself, a pillow in his neck, and enjoys to feel Taylor cuddle up to him, becoming the little spoon to be able to face the big flat screen.

“Alright, are we ready?”

“Yes.” Both Scott and Andrea answer annoyed from their seats and it makes Taylor laugh. Travis hits the play button and the movie starts. His right hand securely around Taylor’s small body frame, slowly wandering onto her stomach. She places her hand on top of his, and with his head on the pillow behind him, he leans over to her once, breathing in her incredible smelling hair, and steals her neck one last kiss. She moves a bit more, trying to get comfortable, and he can feel how fast her heart beats. He knew it. She’s been running around all day, not even allowing herself a single moment of rest. She’s rattled up, and her inability to just lay still in his arms is proof enough. Sometimes, he feels like whenever she’s not playing a show she needs to run around all day to compensate for her lack of adrenaline rush. It’s not good for her though. It’s not good to be in a constant state of stress.

The movie has just started and he catches himself every so often just staring at her instead. Her silhouette in the darkness, lid up by nothing but the flickering tv light. She’s the most beautiful person he knows. Not a single ounce of badness about her. It terrifies him sometimes, how deeply he loves her. How pure his feelings really are for her. His thoughts manifest themselves once more as she starts laughing about a scene on tv and he realizes that he was way too distracted to follow the storyline until now.

A few moments later, Travis can finally feel her become more and more still in his arms. Her hand still firmly over his, her thumb drawing the ever same slow circles on the back of his hand. She’s slowly coming down from her day. And half an hour later, he knows she’s fighting sleep. Whilst both of her parents are still awake watching and enjoying the movie he chose, the blonde woman in his arms has grown unusually quiet. It takes another five minutes and he feels her spasm once. She’s fighting sleep when really, she shouldn’t. Travis slowly lets go of her stomach, moves his big hand over her cold and naked upper arm instead. Nothing but the tv light lighting up her sleepy face.

“Baby?”

“Mhm?” she answers in her half sleeping state, of course pretending to be fully awake.

“Can you reach for the blanket next to you?”

She slowly sits up, grabs the blanket and just hands it to him, too tired to fully recognize the fact that she’s freezing in her top, and that she needs the blanket more than he does. She just lays down again, her head this time getting comfortable on his upper arm. He opens up the soft blanket over her, feels Taylor finally giving in. With her eyes half closed and the same tired disoriented look on her face whenever she wakes up at night to go to the bathroom, Taylor turns around, signaling him to open his arms for her some more. She’s now fully turned away from the tv, her sleepy face facing his chest. He protectively wraps the blanket around her cold torso, feels her little hand placed on his chest over his sweater. With her wrapped in his arms, and the blanket, Travis looks down at her closing her eyes, finally allowing herself to fall asleep. He leans down to kiss her forehead once, his arm around her, stroking her back up and down.

“Sorry, I’m just..”

He doesn’t know whether her mumbles are an apology to him or her parents about the fact that she falls asleep twenty minutes into the movie. But he’s having none of it.

“Shh. I’ll tell you later what happened.” he whispers, and she doesn’t even nod. Instead, he can watch her breathing get slower and slower and steadier and steadier. It takes less than a minute and she’s fully asleep in his arms. A little sigh escapes her throat. Her toes between his legs move once. In his arms, she slowly lets go. And Travis can now face the TV again, and actually enjoy the movie knowing that the woman in his arms is finally getting some well deserved rest. But his gentleness doesn’t remain unnoticed. Both Scott and Andrea watch Taylor drift off in his big arms, his left hand securely on her head, his right one around her waist, stroking her back over the blanket up and down every so often. Not one of the two can recall a time, in which they’ve witnessed their daughter more effortlessly safe, feeling loved and able to be herself more than in this moment.

#this is is ridiculous #homebodies #taylor swift fanfiction #taylor swift #fanfiction #fanfic #ttpd #writing #travis kelce #cozy #fluff #fluff on end lol #tayvis

119 notes · View notes

lazycats-stuff · 7 months

Note

Hello I was wondering if you could do a Batfam x teen reader, where the reader is like Lara croft from Tom Raider. The reader love going on adventure to ancient ruin and collect artefacts. The story is up to you, of course!

Thanks you for your amazing writing!

(sorry, English isn't my first language)

I can do it! I remember watching Angelina Jolie in the role, I loved it! Thanks for the compliment anon. Don't worry, English isn't my first language too.

Summary: (Y/N) loved collecting artefacts. It can come in helpful sometimes.

Warnings: looking for the Holy Lance, mentions of Jesus and religious content, Matthias Vogel is here as an enemy, (Y/N) is scared of him, mentions of near death experience, Bruce is a protective dad.

Out of all the children he has, Bruce sees (Y/N) the least. He comes here for a few weeks and then he is of on another adventure. Bruce was very skeptical of him, but to say that would be hypocritical is an understatement.

So Bruce taught him every skill he knows to help him on his adventures. The boys did so too and they were always interested in what he collected. They all listened to the stories with a lot of interest and Bruce made a little museum in the manor.

Bruce knew that (Y/N) would do this for as long as he lives, because he was always adventures, even when he was a kid. Bruce had so much scares with him and a few gray hairs to prove it.

At the moment, (Y/N) was back home in USA, Gotham, New Jersey. He was sleeping in his room, knocked out from exhaustion. Bruce picked him up from the airport late last night while others were getting ready to go on patrol.

Bruce decided to leave (Y/N) sleeping and the others were going to be surprised. Damian loved his older brother to death and he missed him during his adventures, even though Damian would rather die than to admit it.

Bruce was in the kitchen, drinking the coffee that Alfred has prepared for him. He waited for his sons to come down. (Y/N) would probably come down in a few hours at best, but he did sleep through the entire flight. Maybe he could come down during breakfast.

" I see you are more relaxed master Bruce. " Alfred noted, turned to the stove, making some eggs for him.

" I am. (Y/N) is back and I can finally feel more relaxed. " Bruce explained and Alfred raised his brow.

" He is? "

" Yes, we came back when the others were getting ready for patrol. It will be a nice surprise. "

" Where was he this time? " Alfred asked.

" He was in Egypt. He looked for a temple and something that I can't even pronounce. " Bruce said and Alfred nodded, serving him the eggs.

The others were getting down too and the piled into the kitchen. There were quiet murmurs of good mornings and a grunt from Jason.

" I miss (Y/N). " Dick said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

" Me too. " Tim chimed in, already having a cup of coffee in hands.

Jason just sighed quietly, not in the mood to talk. He was never and never will be a morning person. " Where is he anyway father? "

" Egypt. " Bruce answered shortly, sipping more of his coffee. Damian just nodded, rubbing his eyes too. He yawned behind his hand, thanking Alfred for bringing him the food.

" Good morning. "

Four heads whipped to look at the entrance door, all various stages of shock. Dick leapt from his chair, embracing his brother tightly. Jason followed after blinking a few times and Tim and Damian nearly trampled over one another to embrace their brother.

(Y/N) smiled, trying to breathe.

" I love you both, but you kind of need to let me go. " (Y/N) wheezed out and they did let him go, sitting back down at their spots.

" When did you come back? " Damian asked, pouring him some coffee.

" You were going on patrol on at the time. " (Y/N) explained and everyone but Alfred looked at Bruce.

" I wanted to surprise you all. " Bruce just explained and there were a few huffs heard. He chuckled at the displeasure of not knowing where their brother is.

" And what did you find? " Jason asked and (Y/N) started talking. Bruce hid his smile behind his mug. He knew that it would be like this for another few weeks before (Y/N) goes on another adventure.

" Wow. And Bruce brought you here without telling us. " Jason said, giving Bruce a mock glare.

" He was exhausted and he needed his sleep. " Bruce explained himself and Jason just shook his head.

" Does it really matter? It's a nice surprise. " Alfred chimed in and Jason had to agree. It was nice to see his brother.

" Where do you think you are going next? " Tim asked and (Y/N) tilted his head in thought.

" I don't know. Maybe find the Arc of the Covenant or something like that. " Everyone laughed at that and (Y/N) with them. Maybe he should embark on such religious adventure. Especially in regard to the Catholic Church. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to find that Arc.

" Maybe you should. " Jason noted.

" Maybe I will and go down in history as the person who found the Arc of the Covenant. " (Y/N) laughed as he drank his coffee. Maybe he should.

" And then we can claim more fame. " Tim joked, sending the table into an another wave of laughter.

(Y/N)'s mask itched on his face as he walked with Bruce through the Zeta tube. He only wore when he was needed for the Justice League as an expert on ancient artefacts. They had an expert on magical artifacts and then they had (Y/N).

Bruce wanted to protect (Y/N)'s identity since they had new heroes coming to the League. (Y/N) sighed quietly, adjusting the mask. He just wanted to rip this mask off, but he couldn't due to Bruce.

" Just an hour or so and then you can go home. " Bruce said, not ever looking back as they walked through the halls to the conference room. Apparently they had some rumors about the power that the Holy Lance has.

The Lance also had some blood of Jesus Christ when he was crucified and according to some magic wielders there is also mind control in the mix too.

It was something that the Justice League wanted to have, to safe keep, away from the League of Light, considering that if it fell into wrong hands, there would be a lot of chaos and terror from the Light.

(Y/N) has heard of it and has heard it's legend, but there were already lances claiming to be the holy one, so he didn't really bother with searching one. Apparently there is one under the St. Peter's Basilica and there is one in Vienna too.

(Y/N) shook his head as he saw Superman and Wonder Woman. The trio exchanged hugs and some kisses, at least on Wonder Woman's side. (Y/N) was considered a nephew and that meant that they worried for him when he was away on his adventures.

When ever (Y/N) was out on his adventures, Superman listened intently. Clark told (Y/N) a few years back that if he was ever in trouble that didn't seem like he could get out of, call.

It has only happened once and not even Bruce knows about. (Y/N) didn't want to worry him.

" Oh my dear nephew, where have you been? " She asked, leading him to the conference room, leaving the two men behind. Wonder Woman loved (Y/N) a lot and she often complained that she wasn't seeing him enough, but she knew that going on adventures is his pure passion.

She is not going to take that away from him. She is not evil.

The two fell into a nice conversation, sitting next to each other. Bruce and Clark stepped in, along side Hal, Victor, Barry and Arthur. They also got visibly excited at the sight of their rarely seen bat kid. There were pats on the back and some side hugs.

" Okay, now that we have all gathered here, we can start. " Batman said and everyone grumbled.

" We see this kid rarely as it is and you want to work? You are cruel. " Green Lantern grumbled, Flash nodding in agreement. Cyborg and Aquaman agreed, but they didn't voice it.

" This is an important meeting for an important mission. We have no time to waste. "

(Y/N) suppressed a chuckle. To him, his father was always funny when he was trying to sound so strict and scary. (Y/N) knew early on that Batman and Bruce Wayne are two different people. And when you live with him long enough, it becomes funny.

" Now, what we are looking for is this lance. " Bruce said, pressing a few buttons to show a picture on the screen. " It's supposedly a lance that was used to stab Jesus Christ during his crucifixion. It's supposed to have some blood of Jesus on it. But the reason why we are looking for it's because it has a power. Mind control. " Bruce paused, nodding to (Y/N).

" There are about 3 lances claiming to be the Holy Lance. One is Rome, on is in Krakow and the other one is in Vienna. But there is no proof that they are the real deal. The information that I have says that it could be found in Armenia. Fun fact, Hitler was obsessed with it. " (Y/N) said, tapping on the screen. It's a photograph of a cave.

" Now, this is the place where it's supposed to be, but it's not confirmed. With the help of my dad, we intercepted intel from Matthias Vogel. He is a treasure hunter and a leader of mercenaries. They haven't confirmed it yet, but I did. I talked to my sources and friends and I have confirmed it. Do you have an idea what the cave is?" (Y/N) asked, shifting in his chair.

" The tomb of Jesus. " Superman chimed in.

" You are correct. He is officially buried in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, but the body can't be traced back to Jesus. The Church was built near the crucifixion site, according to the Bible. " (Y/N) finished and everyone else was shocked at the knowledge that (Y/N) showed. Holy shit.

" Wow. " Flash said, making (Y/N) chuckle.

" Yeah, I know. " (Y/N) said and Bruce had to suppress a smile. (Y/N) was his boy.

" We are going first thing tomorrow. " Batman announced and the meeting was over. The father son duo looked at each. Bruce knew that Vogel is (Y/N)'s enemy and that worried him. (Y/N) is a skilled person, but this is something that Bruce would never take lightly.

(Y/N) was trained very well and he managed to take Deathstroke once, but Vogel nearly killed (Y/N) once. That was the time that Bruce doesn't know about Superman's help. (Y/N) came home a bit wrecked, but he did tell Bruce that Vogel has tried to kill him. He didn't know about Superman's help and (Y/N) lied to Bruce about the extent of his injuries.

Everyone left Bruce and (Y/N) alone and (Y/N) walked up to Bruce who was still sitting down.

" We have to bring Robin. " (Y/N) said quietly, leaning down to hug Bruce. He knew that his dad was angry about the near death experience and Bruce gave him a hug.

" We will. I'm more concerned about Vogel. If Robin finds out about him, he is going to kill him. " Bruce replied, just as quietly. He didn't want to think about it.

He was just happy to have his son alive and well.

The flight to Armenia went through without a hitch. It was easy and the ride to the cave, where Jesus is supposed to be buried. Matthias Vogel was nowhere to be seen and (Y/N) wanted to keep it that way. Damian sat down next to (Y/N) in the car and he could understand how freeing this is.

Thankfully, they went in the autumn, when the weather is was just perfect. Not to hot and not to cold. Damian already made a note to ask (Y/N) to join in on one adventure.

" Here it is. " (Y/N) announced, looking through the sunglasses. Damian and (Y/N) jumped out, walking towards it. Batman and the others followed close behind. Hal made some light with his ring and Cyborg analyzed it with his vision.

" It seems to be going deeper. If we move the big rock, then we will be able to get through. " He said, looking around.

Superman quickly moved it and Batman went first. Everything was quiet at first, before (Y/N) heard a familiar voice.

" It's here. It's a shame that (Y/N) isn't here. " Matthias Vogel said and (Y/N) froze. Flash took them all out. They were knocked out within a second.

They didn't see them coming.

" Okay, lets take the lance and go. This is one of the easier missions we have ever had. I don't want to mess it up. " Robin said and (Y/N) took the Lance.

(Y/N) still felt uneasy at the voice of Mathias Vogel. He didn't want to know what the sentence meant and he didn't want to guess. He woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for air.

He felt scared for the first time in a year. He stood up on shaky legs as he went to Bruce's room. He tried to breath normally, but he couldn't.

The nightmare took everything out of him as he opened the door quietly. Bruce lifted his head up, opening his eyes. (Y/N) didn't have to say anything, he just lifted the covers up.

(Y/N) closed the door behind himself, before crawling under them. Bruce wrapped him up in the warm covers, bringing him closer to him. He gave him a kiss on the head before (Y/N) buried his head into Bruce's chest.

" Nothing will happen to you. " Bruce said quietly in the dark, as if he knew what has scared (Y/N).

(Y/N) teared up a little and Bruce embraced him tightly. (Y/N) closed his eyes once more as he tried sleep.

(Y/N) and Bruce fell asleep, (Y/N) feeling safe in his father's arms.

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batman x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader

239 notes · View notes