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moonchildstyles · 8 months

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angel getting high for the first time 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

cw: drug use! its only weed, nothing heavy but if that makes you uncomfortable please skip :)

wordcount: 11.8k+

—————

(Y/N) kicked her legs in the air as she laid tummy down on her bed. She listened to the ringing from the phone pressed to her ear, waiting for a familiar voice to answer.

In the middle of the third ring, her hopes were answered when a click sounded. Muffled background noise started through the speaker, accompanying a honeyed drawl.

"Hi, lovebug," Harry murmured, his speech seemingly slower than normal.

"Hi," she chirped through her smile. Her feet kicked in the air, free hand coming up to twirl her hair around her index finger. "What are you doing?"

A random burst of laughter bubbled through the other line, distant from the phone though it was still loud. "'M on the phone, be quiet," Harry reprimanded, voice far from the receiver before he returned with a decided softer tone, "Nothing, jus' trying to watch a movie with Mitch. What about you, baby?"

"Just in bed," she mused, "I wanted to call before I went to sleep. Did you want me to let you go since you're with Mitch?"

Since deciding on moving in together once their respective leases expired, (Y/N) had been making a point to spend more time with Sarah while she was still so close. She didn't want to get in the way if Harry was trying to do the same.

"No, no, I wanna talk to you, 's alright," he assured her, "How was your day?"

It was still sweet to (Y/N) the way that she could text him all day long, telling him everything about her day, and he still would ask her a question like this. He told her once that he likes hearing her voice, even if he already knows what she's telling him.

"It was alright," she said, rolling to lay on her back, looking up at her ceiling, "I turned in that paper that I was working on last weekend, so that's all done. The library was super quiet today, though, I almost fell asleep in the philosophy section."

A small laugh sounded from Harry. "Did y'really?"

"Yeah," she sighed, a smile curling her lips, "Elizabeth had to come entertain me. But, what about you? You did that big piece today, right?"

"Yeah, the thigh piece," he said, voice thick, "She was a nice girl, but I had a headache by the time we took the first break. She liked to talk a lot. M'hand's been cramping since lunch."

A pout landed on (Y/N)'s lips. She hated hearing about those kinds of details from Harry's job. She had always figured it was so fun and glamorous, easy and fulfilling. She had never thought about the physical toll of drawing and shading and designing all day long.

"Oh, no," she hummed, instinctively rolling her wrist and curling her fingers as if she could take his pain from miles away. "Did you take anything to help?"

"Kind of. Mitch and I have been relaxing since he got home."

She knew exactly what that meant. Though Harry tended to keep this specific hobby of his separated from her, set on the back burner away from the time he spent with her, she knew better. Besides, she had found that little bag in his dresser months ago, she wasn't completely clueless (of course, he did have to explain what she had found to her, but that was a different story).

That would explain why time seemed to be moving a little bit slower on the other end of the phone, and the boisterous laughter Mitch was sharing in the background.

"Have you been smoking?" she asked, voice quiet. She always felt a bit silly bringing this up to him, unsure of what terms to be using and what meant what exactly.

"A little bit, yeah," he affirmed, "Sorry. I didn't know you'd be calling. I wouldn't have if I knew you wanted to talk tonight."

Shaking her head despite the fact he couldn't see her, (Y/N) rushed her protests. "No, no, don't be sorry. I don't mind, you know that. As long as you're happy and you guys are being careful."

"Always am, baby."

A heat bubbled in her chest at his words. While he never did it around her, there were times that she called him or he FaceTimed her before bed when he was under the influence and his voice drawling just a little deeper, sitting heavier in his chest, hit her just perfectly. She could imagine the way his eyes were a bit hooded, his tongue sticking around his words, the easy smiles that spread across his face for no other reason than he liked the feeling.

She wondered what he looked like in the act. Was it like the movies with lavender smoke and pieces of blown glass with intricate details? Or did he make his own little rolls, hanging from his lips like a cigarette?

Mitch's loud laugh on the phone brought her back to reality, blinking her back to her room and Harry's static on the other end of the phone. Harry gave a muffled response before his own laughter joined his best friend's, the sound drawling and breezy.

When he returned to the phone, she could hear the lingering smile in his tone. "I think Mitch found a movie for us to watch, love."

"What is it?" she asked, feeling the end of the phone call nearing. She would have to settle for spraying the stuffed bunny he gifted her for Valentine's Day with a sample of his cologne for her to cuddle for the night.

"I don't even know," he laughed, "but, I think 's gonna be funny. I think 'm gonna have to make us food, though, so I don't think I can talk for much longer."

"That's okay. Have fun with Mitch and I'll talk to you tomorrow, right?"

"Right," he affirmed, voice soft, "Sleep well, lovebug. I'll call you during my lunch."

"Okay," she sighed, fitting her cheek against her pillow, "I love you."

"I love you more, baby," he cooed, "Goodnight."

An exaggerated kiss noise sounded through her phone, pulling a loud peal of laughter from (Y/N)'s lips. He never really did that when he was around his friends, only putting on the show when he was calling her in private. She thought it was very sweet.

"Goodnight," she laughed, pressing the red button before she became too spoiled with his shenanigans and tried to keep the call going.

Setting her phone on her nightstand, she snuggled into her comforter, a throw blanket covering her body instead of her duvet. Pulling her studded bunny from the fringes of her bed, (Y/N) nestled her cheek against the soft fluff. The sown still smelled of Harry's house from the last time she had spent the night, bringing her back to what he was doing in her absence.

The mystery surrounding his activity of choice for the day is what flicked her curiosity. She'd seen a few movies with marijuana being an uncredited character along with a couple of books with the high feeling being described, but she had never been exposed to anything substantial in real life before she moved away from her parents. Even then, she still hadn't experienced more than the herbal scent that inevitably clung to apartment complexes so close to a university campus and the few bleary eyed classmates she had to work with.

Specifically, she wondered what Harry was like when he was in that state. Those classmates of hers always seemed disconnected, tired, and in their own head. Was Harry the same way? Did he act the way he did when he drank a little bit too much wine? Or was he wild and excitable like those in the movies? Or sleepy like she had read in her books?

What would she be like?

The idea followed her behind her shuttered eyes, her mind going a bit floaty the closer she sunk into sleep.

—————

"Sarah, have you ever... smoked weed before?"

The words felt silly falling from (Y/N)'s mouth. Was that even the correct term? She didn't know, but she kept her attention on the food she was making in front of her, hoping Sarah wouldn't notice.

"Yes," she answered with a suspicious drawl, sweeping through the apartment with a laundry basket on her hip, "Why?"

(Y/N) only shrugged. "I don't know. I've just been thinking about it." She paused, tipping her head. "What does it feel like?"

"Smoking?" Sarah pressed.

"Yeah," (Y/N) chirped, feeling shy that she was even breaching this conversation. "Or, like, being high. Is it like the movies?"

"A little bit," Sarah mused, folding her laundry on the dining room table into neat piles. "It's not as dramatic or crazy, but it can feel that way sometimes. It depends on the person. Everyone's different."

Rolling her lips, (Y/N) nodded her head. She chanced a look over her shoulder at her friend, slowing her stirring. "What are you like?"

Sarah shrugged, a crease between her brows as she thought. "I haven't smoked in a while, but I used to get really tired. It always depended on what kind we had, but I usually got really tired."

Is that what Harry did? Did he get sleepy, like some of her classmates? Did he nod off during the movie he and Mitch watched the other night?

"When was the last time?" (Y/N) asked, hoping Sarah didn't cut her off. She was genuinely curious, she hoped she wasn't prodding and poking past her welcome.

"Maybe a year ago? Could have been longer," Sarah answered. "I was with Mitch so it wasn't too long ago."

Fixing her attention back on the stirring of the soup she was making for their dinner, she tried to act casual as she spoke. "W-Was Harry there, too?"

"Harry?"

(Y/N) could hear the smile in Sarah's voice as she realized where (Y/N)'s curiosity was stemming from. She never tired of teasing just a little over how in love she was with her Harry. (Y/N) only hummed a confirmation, keeping her voice to herself.

"He wasn't there the last time, but he did used to smoke with us sometimes," Sarah explained, sounding a little too amused as she spoke, "Why?"

Shrugging, (Y/N) pretended as if she wasn't intrigued at the info Sarah could share. "No reason really. Was it fun? With Harry and Mitch and all?"

"(Y/N)," Sarah sighed, her voice floating through a smile, "C'mon."

Stopping her distracting task, she turned to face Sarah who was looking at her with that knowing smile she somehow always had when it came to (Y/N)'s secrets. She was an open book as her friend could tell.

"What?" (Y/N) feigned nonchalance as if she hadn't already been caught.

"Did Harry say something? Is that why you're asking about all of this?" Sarah poked, her features set in a gentle tease.

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth she canted her head, eyes dropping to where Sarah's hands had stalled her folding. "Not exactly," she started, "He just... I don't know, I called him the other night and he was with Mitch and they had been smoking, he told me. I know he's done it a few times since we started dating, but I've just been thinking about it since then."

Sarah hummed, nodding her head as she listened. "I get it," she said, "I know he doesn't do it around you or anything, right?" (Y/N) only shook her head. Popping her hip with a furrow appearing in her brow as she cast her mind back in search of answers for (Y/N)'s previous questions. "I wouldn't say it's exactly like the movies," Sarah continued, "But it depends on the person and the strain, and things like that. I usually get pretty tired and hungry, Mitch is like the movies sometimes—loud and everything is funny—, and Harry gets really lovey and lazy. None of us really make much sense, though."

(Y/N) tried to picture it. Lavender smoke in the air, Harry lazing about with hearts in his eyes, Mitch laughing about nothing, and Sarah passed out in the corner with a pillow under her cheek. A pinch appeared between her brows as she tried to see where she would sit amongst those characters.

"What do you think I'd be like?"

Blinking, Sarah brought her gaze to her friend. She pursed her lips as she took in (Y/N).

"I don't know. It's not the same as being drunk, so I don't know if you'd be as excitable." Sarah contemplated for a moment longer. "I don't really know, honestly. Are you thinking about finding out?"

She could only shrug. A similar anxiety she felt around alcohol before she broke that barrier still surrounded this, if even a bit heightened given the fact the substance was still very much taboo in her life. There were so many scary, over-exaggerated out there about marijuana, along with the fact that it was still very much taboo in (Y/N)'s life. The use of it seemed to be something that was only done in private and kept as a secret for some people. She was worried that if she found out why, she would regret it.

Though, there were those puffing thoughts in the back of her mind that begged to differ. It couldn't be that bad. Harry, Mitch, and Sarah were three of her favorite people in the whole world. They weren't devilish burnouts with a one-track lifestyle taking them down the drain, like horror stories and PSA's liked to project. They were good people who sometimes indulged in extra relaxation when they had the chance and the mindset to do so. There was nothing wrong with that.

"You could ask H, if you wanted. You know he'd answer anything you wanted to know."

"I know," (Y/N) drawled, unsure despite the fact she knew Sarah was telling the truth. "You don't think he'd be annoyed or anything? I know he keeps it all separate from me for a reason, so I don't want to make him upset."

Sarah leveled her gentle gaze on (Y/N)'s face. "I think he does it because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. It's different than drinking wine with him and things like that, so I bet he just doesn't want to scare you."

(Y/N) shook her head, "He couldn't scare me, though. He's too nice."

"To you," Sarah clarified, her smile soft and teasing, "You know he just worries about you and all of that. You wouldn't upset him if you wanted to know more about anything he does."

He did love teaching and showing her things, she knew that.

"I'll think about it," (Y/N) settled.

"Good," Sarah smiled, grabbing her stacks of folded laundry, "Is dinner ready?"

"Almost," (Y/N) chirped, adding a little bit of extra seasoning to the pot, "I just need to add the noodles. It'll probably be ready by the time you're done putting everything away."

Sarah gave a small cheer, stacks of clothing now rehomed in the laundry basket to be returned to her room. "Thank you," she sung, "We should watch that yacht show when we sit down, don't you think?"

Perking up at the suggestion, (Y/N) quickly nodded her head. "That sounds perfect!" she smiled, mellowing some as she turned her attention to her swirling soup base, "And, thank you for answering everything, by the way. It always helps me."

"I know, that's why I do it," Sarah settled, reaching out to squeeze (Y/N)'s arm gently before she swept away.

Left in the silence of the kitchen with only the simmering soup, (Y/N) felt a little bit lighter. Some of her questions were answered even if she had more she wanted to hear from Harry directly. More than anything, she was a little enamored at the idea that Harry was loving and lazy under the influence. She already had a small idea given that she had seen how easy and bubbly he became when he drank, but she'd never seen him really slow down the way she pictured it in her head.

She wanted to see just how lovey he became, if she was being honest. She already had the privilege of experiencing the affectionate side of him, she wondered just how much higher that volume would be kicked to if he had been smoking. What if he really did have hearts in his eyes?

The thought brought a quiet smile to (Y/N)'s face.

Maybe, she really would have to ask him.

—————

"What are you thinking for dinner, my love?"

(Y/N) puckered her lips to reciprocate the small kiss Harry gave her as he traipsed by the couch. Her eyes followed the broad of his back as her made his way towards the kitchen. With her hands folded on the arm of the sofa, she rested her cheek on her forearm, kicking her legs up behind her as she watched him.

"Whatever you want, I'm okay with," she told him, voice soft and easy.

"Yeah?" he prodded, looking over his shoulder as he washed his hands in the sink, "Even if I didn't feel like making dinner tonight and decided to order sushi instead?"

"Sushi?" (Y/N) bubbled, "From the new place?"

Harry nodded, dimples thumbed into his cheeks. "I figured we could try it out tonight, if that was alright."

"Yes, please," she beamed, her grin only widening when came around to join her in the common area after drying his hands.

His lip ring bobbled as he matched her smile, using a gentle hand to push a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "Why don't you pull up the website for us while I put my sketches away, and find what y'like. Then we'll order, yeah?

Despite the long hours he worked at the shop this past weekend, he looked as gorgeous as ever to (Y/N). He lacked eyeliner after wiping it off as soon as he made it home, but his eyes were still the star of the show against his creamy skin. A fresh bee tattoo stood out on the column of his throat, the mosaic wings following the line of his jaw amongst the rose bush filler he had inked across the skin. With the way he stood over her, she got the perfect view of his spiraling curls and the cut planes of his face complete with his glimmering nose stud and lip ring.

She nodded her head in a lovey daze. "I can do that."

Amusement flickered in his eyes as he looked down at her. He dipped to her level to press a lingering kiss to the tip of her nose. "Thank you, baby," he murmured, moving away to gather the art supplies he was working with, "I'll be right back."

Pulling out her phone, (Y/N) searched up the restaurant up while her mind was still on Harry.

While the questions she had for him were still in the back of her mind, it was too easy to become distracted with him. They weren't apart for a long time by any stretch of the imagination, but even spending a long, four-day weekend away from one another allowed enough fondness to grow between them to keep her mind from wandering very far from what was right in front of her. Besides, Harry barely let her get a word in since she stepped foot in his home, having tugged her to his bedroom with his lips pressed to hers, only breaking for breath.

She'd ask him at some point, she was sure. If she had the mind to after dinner.

Browsing through the menu for a few minutes, (Y/N) found the rolls she was interested in, picking things she had a feeling Harry would like and finding other little gems on the website that she would mention in hopes of getting his opinion on. She searched through the site, trying to find an option to order online with no luck, the browser rerouting her to the main page every time she tried to plug into the ordering site.

"H?" she called, realizing he still hadn't come back from resetting his utensils.

"Yes?" he answered back, still in the bedroom, "What do y'need, love?"

Instead of responding, she stood from the couch and moved towards his room, brows knitted and phone screen bright in her hand. "The website isn't working—it won't let me order," she explained, stepping over the threshold to his room.

Lifting her head, she saw him standing at his dresser, back to the door with his head angled down and hands fiddling across the top of his dresser. He looked over his shoulder at her, his hands slowing.

"Give me a second, and I'll take a look," he told her, "I'm still cleaning up—forgot I left some things out."

"Oh?" she sounded, stepping towards him with her phone being slid back into her pocket, "Do you want any help?"

Growing close enough, she peered around him to see what he was working on. Instead of spotting the graphite and colored pencils she figured she'd find, she instead saw tiny green buds splaying across the wooden surface with a pair of loose pieces of thin paper and a tall black canister. Harry worked quickly to clean up the mess, majority of the green flakes having been scooped up and replaced in the container though he was struggling to wrangle the remains back into their container.

"'S alright," he murmured, shifting just enough to cut her view of the space, "'M almost done."

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she rocked on her heels as she stayed put. Before she could think better of her words, they were already spilling from her mouth:

"Is that weed?"

She cringed at the sound of her voice wrapping around something so outside of her vocabulary. It sounded better in her head.

Harry's hands slowed, stilling before he looked over his shoulder at her. A sliver of his workspace was once again revealed at the small shifting.

"What was that?" he pressed, his question seemingly heavy between the two of them.

She said the wrong thing, didn't she? (Y/N) dropped her gaze from his, settling on the new bumblebee on his neck instead.

"I ask if that was your... you know," she trailed off, hating the sound of her floundering almost more than just saying the word outright, "That's weed, right?"

Feeling Harry's gaze trail over her, (Y/N) tried not to squirm.

"It is, yeah," he muttered, "I didn't realize I left it out. 'M sorry."

Darting her eyes up to match his once more, she tipped her head to the side. "Why are you sorry?"

Turning away from the dresser entirely, Harry faced her directly. He gave her a small shrug. "I don't like leaving it out when you're here. I meant to clean it up before y'came over, but I forgot."

"You know I don't mind," she reminded him, "You don't have to be sorry."

A gentle smile curled his lips, only a single dimple in his cheeks as he looked at her.

"Thank you, love," he started, "Let me clean up, I'll wash m'hands again, and then I'll—"

"What does it feel like?"

(Y/N) could feel her skin simmering in embarrassment as her tumbling question fell from her mouth before she had a chance to police the words. Everything she had been too distracted to ask him came flooding back then, unable to be stopped now that she saw the opportunity.

"Sorry," she peeped, realizing how abruptly she had cut him off.

He waved her off, "'S alright." He watched her with attentive eyes, catching each of her expressions and minute movements. "What does what feel like?"

There was no going back now, she figured.

"Being high," she peeped, "What does it feel like?"

While he didn't seem to understand where her line of questioning was coming from, or understood her sudden curiosity in his private hobby, he didn't dissect any further.

Harry rolled his neck, pursing his lips. "It's different for everyone," he started, much the same as Sarah had, "It depends on the kind you smoke, too."

"But what does it feel like for you?" she rattled off, her words coming quick. Her hands were a busy bundle at her waistline, looking at him with curious eyes.

A small tug on the corner of his lip had a lopsided smile sparking on his mouth. "It depends, like I said, on what kind, but I usually like it best when m'hands hurt. It helps numb it long enough for the cramping to go away," he mused, "But, other than that, it makes me tired—but not enough to sleep. I jus' want to do nothing but sit and eat. I also get very touchy; lots of cuddling with pillows and whining about not being with you."

He had to have known that his last comment would get her lips splitting into a sheepish smile, (Y/N) dropping her head to fix her gaze at their feet. It was still a little wild to her that Harry thought about her as often as she did him, even when she wasn't right in front of him.

"You feel like that every time?"

"Mostly, yeah," he shared, "Sometimes I feel like sketching, or I fall asleep right away. Back when Mitch and I would go out a lot, I used to be really hyper—doing stupid shit because I wasn't afraid of anything. I've definitely calmed down since then."

"Oh," she sounded. (Y/N) couldn't imagine Harry being reckless, getting himself into trouble that way—but, this was the same man that apparently received his first tattoo at a mechanic's garage by a very amateur artist. He was capable of anything, she guessed.

"Why do you want to know, love?" he asked, tipping his head with a spiral of his curl falling over his shoulder.

She attempted to act as nonchalant as possible, giving a shrug of her shoulders despite her lips being rolled between her teeth. "I don't know," she answered, "I've just been thinking about it, I guess."

"Yeah? Is that all y'wanted to know?"

While there had to have been hundreds of questions that could come to mind, everything from what he and Sarah meant when they specified reactions were based on the strain or kind of weed that was being consumed, to what skunks vs. dank meant when it came to the herb, she didn't know where to start. Though there was one thing she was wanting to know, beyond just the details of what it would be like to see a clingy, lovey Harry.

"What do you think I'd be like?" she asked, her words coming out in a rush before she could rethink them.

Harry's gaze was warm on her face as he examined her. Amusement sparked in his eyes.

"I don't know, but I have a feeling you'd be a little bit like Mitch," he explained, "I think you'd be excited about everything. But, I'd hope you'd be a little like me just because I like the idea of you being clingy and warm, too."

She liked that idea, too. It was easier this time to add herself to the picture of Harry, Mitch, and Sarah, superimposing herself at Harry's side with her own hearts in her eyes and her hands tangled with his. (They could sneak kisses, too, if she caught the bug of no fear like he used to have).

"Could—Can I—... I think I want to try, if that's alright," she stuttered, unable to find the right words before just letting something roll off her tongue.

Harry's silence was heavy between them, the lilypad of his irises setting on her. "You want to try smoking?"

Starting with a soft nod, she tried to find that reckless bubbling that had carried her this far. "I think so, yeah." A beat passed. "If that's alright."

When he didn't immediately say anything, she chanced a peek up at him to find his eyes fixed on her, gentle and melting as he took her in. He opened his arms for her when he caught her eye, his features softened and warm. "C'mere."

(Y/N) all but fell into his arms, his chest warm and solid under her cheek. She looped her arms around his middle, her eyes fluttering closed as she relaxed into him. He worked like a shot of lavender incense and chamomile tea for her, the perfect thing to settle her in moments like these.

His hand spanned over the planes of her back, fingertips massaging the knots of muscle and ladder of her spine. He rubbed over her form in a soothing circuit between her shoulder blades, his opposing hand an anchoring weight on her waist.

"Y'really want to try it out, love?" he prodded her gently, his voice rumbling under her cheek.

"I think so," she mumbled, finding it easier to speak now that she was there to hold her instead of watch her.

"When did y'decide that?"

"The other day, I think," she explained, "After we talked on the phone."

He hummed, the sound reverberating in her ear. "What made y'think y'wanted to try something like this?"

Harry always liked to talk her through things like this, she found. It made it easier for him to understand her thought process, he'd said, helping him be honest with her if he worried she was making a choice that might hurt her later. He never lacked patience when it came to guiding her through new experiences.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, "I just want to know what it's really like. I've only seen a couple of movies and read a few books, but I want to know what it would feel like for me. I don't think it could be so bad if you like it."

Nosing at her hair, she could feel the smile that had spread across his lips. "'M not always the smartest though, baby. You know that."

She let out a small laugh at his griping. "I know, but I trust you. If you really don't think it would be good for me, I know you would tell me."

A pause settled between them.

"You don't feel like you have to, right? Jus' because 's something I do sometimes, I don't expect you to feel comfortable with it or want to do it with me."

"I know," she responded, voice resolute, "I just want to try it at least once. If I don't like it or anything like that, I won't do it again."

After a lingering moment, Harry drew her away from him, peering down at her with a soft gaze. "If you're sure, then we can try it whenever y'want. Jus' let me help you, and I'll be there."

An impulsive flicker lit through her system. She was on a roll, why stop now?

"Can we try it tonight?"

Harry looked at her with widened eyes. "Tonight?"

(Y/N) nodded her head. "I don't have class until the afternoon tomorrow," she started, a plan coming together, "Do you have to go in early tomorrow?"

His smile was lopsided as he shook his head, likely following where she was going with this. "No, I don't."

"We could stay up, then," she rattled off, "I could try tonight, and if anything goes wrong we can sleep in a little in the morning."

Amusement filtered through his gaze. "I didn't know we were having a sleepover," he teased her, dipping his head until his nose nudged against hers, "Y'want to stay the night with me, baby?"

Her skin hummed as (Y/N) fought the urge to hide herself in his neck. (She acted as if he hadn't been fingers deep in her just a few hours prior, their mouths welded together and her legs around his waist)."

"Harry," she whined, curling her fists in his t-shirt to keep from pulling away, "I'm trying to be serious."

"I know," he crooned, tipping his chin to peck a soft kiss to her pouted lips, "And, 'm listening. We can try it out tonight, if y'really want to. But, I think we should eat first, yeah?"

"Yeah," she repeated, giving a slight nod of her head, "I still need help with the website, though."

"Right," he murmured, pulling away, "Since I don't really need to clean up anymore, let me take a look."

With that, (Y/N) handed him her phone, telling him about the confusion she felt with the links and the rerouting and all, but her mind was somewhere else. Flicking her gaze around his shoulder, she saw the mess he was leaving out for them to take care of later. The small green buds sparked that familiar kind of nervous excitement that she'd grown accustomed to when it came to new things Harry was planning on teaching her.

She just hoped she didn't make a fool of herself.

—————

"What did you think, love? Good, right?"

Taking their dirty utensils—including the pink chopsticks he gifted her for Valentines—Harry spoke over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen.

(Y/N) sat pliantly on the couch, tummy full of the variety of sushi rolls they sampled for the night, along with a new favorite miso soup that she was surely going to be craving as the week went on. "So good. I think my favorite is still the spicy salmon one with that seaweed salad on top."

Harry laughed from where he stood, surely remembering the way she had practically taken that roll for herself, hoarding the pieces to allow only one bite for him. "I really liked that one, too. We'll have to go back again soon, yeah?"

"Yes, please," she chirped, looking over the back of the couch as he made his return.

While the food was a delicious distraction for the night, (Y/N) had still marinated in the idea of what would be coming once she finished and they were settling for the night. The mess he'd left on his dresser was waiting for them, loose papers and all.

"Ready?" he asked, coming to stand at the end of the sofa.

Was she? She wasn't sure, honestly. But that uncertainty was outweighed by the curiosity and bubbly jitters she had since Harry had agreed to help her.

Before she had a chance to answer and take his hand, Harry spoke up again, "Jus' to get ready for bed first, baby."

"Oh," she sounded, nothing more intelligent coming to mind at the moment, "Um, yeah. Then we'll...?"

He cracked a smile at her hesitancy to name the activity that she had brought up. "Yes, we'll do that afterwards. You'll probably feel more comfortable in some pajamas and your face clean."

Though she felt a bit silly at the way she had built up a moment that hadn't quite arrived yet, she understood his logic. Besides, if she turned out to be like Sarah, she wouldn't beat herself up in the morning if she did all of her skincare now, and not when she was already inches from sleep.

Taking Harry's hand, she followed after him as he led her to his bedroom, a small duffle bag of hers that stayed here was already sitting by the bathroom door. A change of clothes, and minis of her most essential skincare needs were packed away inside, making it easy for her to spend the night impulsively when she wanted to.

(Just then, the reminder that she wouldn't be confined to a single bag when they moved in together made her more giddy than before. Soon, she'd be sharing a whole closet with him, a bathroom, and a home. She couldn't wait).

(Y/N) went through the motions of getting unready with Harry standing behind her in the mirror. More often than not, as she brushed her teeth or patted a balm into her skin, her eyes wandered to his reflection. Once or twice, when she was caught, he gave her a sly smile with glimmering eyes. But, when he didn't catch her, his attention on his own task, she was left to allow her mind to gill with imagination.

She was reminded as she ran her eyes along the cut of his jaw, the plants of his features, and the high points in-between, that he would be stepping behind the lavender veil with her. His previous conversation with her had only revolved around her and what she wanted out of this experience, straying her mind away from the fact that he was going to be a part of the package.

What would he look like with smoke pluming from his mouth? Would his lilypad eyes go glazed and red? She wondered if his hands would feel any different gliding over her skin, if his lips would still feel as pillowy against hers.

The thought had her cheeks warming, a sheepish smile forming around the toothbrush between her lips.

Harry finished before her, stepping out of the bathroom to give her privacy to change into her pajamas. "I'll wait for you out here," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her head.

Closing the door behind himself, she was left alone with the chilled tile under her socked feet. Glancing at the mirror, (Y/N) found herself fresh-faced with wide eyes and a slight swell to her lips from the amount of times she rolled them between her teeth. Blinking, she wondered if she would look any different to Harry after she pulled the smoke into her lungs.

It was with rushed hands that she dressed into her sleep clothes (really nothing more than a pair of tiny shorts she would inevitably kick off in the night, and a shirt she had stolen so long ago from Harry that it was hers now), almost slipping her top on backwards before she righted herself in the mirror. Stepping out of the washroom with her laundry being dropped atop her duffle for later, (Y/N) saw Harry once again at his dresser.

This time, he looked to her with an easy smile, his hands working over the surface before him.

"Better?" he smiled, lip ring bobbing.

"Mhm," she hummed, moving towards him in slow strides, "What are you doing?"

Turning back to face his hands, he told her, "Jus' getting our things ready. Do you want to watch?"

A pinch creased her brows as she went towards him. Peering around his shoulder, she saw him working with one of the loose papers from before and a small pile of crushed up greenery.

"What do you have to do?" (Y/N) only had a vague idea of what all went into preparing for a session like this.

Smiling down at her, his ministrations slowed now that her attention was placed on his hands. He sidestepped just enough to allow her an unobstructed view of his work. "I figured we'd stick with a joint this first time, so I've got to roll one up for us to use."

Looking at it now, while she didn't have much knowledge of any of this, she could see familiar pieces forming. The paper would be rolled and twisted with the bud inside, Harry flickering a lighter at the end like a cigarette when it was ready.

"How do you do that?" she muttered, stepping that much closer, feeling as if she were a child pressing their nose against the glass separating them from gallons of ice cream.

A huffed laugh fell from his lips then. Lifting his arm up, he beckoned her to stand between his chest and the dresser. "C'mere."

Slipping into the small space he freed for her, the heat of his chest could be felt against her back. Though she caught whiffs of it before, now the herby, earthy smell of the bud was right at her nose, wafting through the air and clinging to her skin. Right in front of her, Harry worked around her, his fingers deftly working through his supplies.

"First," he started, "You've got to keep the paper flat out and put one of the filters at the end." She watched as he pulled a tiny white piece from the canister, setting it at the middle of one of the short ends of the paper. He kept it stable when he reached for the ground up weed that he had piled in the lid to the container, a small mound he pinched at before sprinkling the chunks in a line across the paper. "We've got to fill it up enough so there's not any air bubbles between," he explained as he worked, his arms hovering above her shoulders as he created their joint with the ease of experience. "This part’s always a little hard for me," he told her, to her surprise.

"What do you mean?" He could have fooled her.

"'S hard to pack it in like this," he elaborated, his voice dull as he concentrated, "M'fingers are too big, so I've got to be extra careful that I don't mess it up."

Honing her gaze in on his digits, she had to keep herself from tipping her head to the side and falling victim to the sight. She could see it then, she figured, watching as he tried to pat everything as tightly and precisely as possible. His fingers definitely were too big.

"Oh," she sounded.

A breathy laugh came from behind her, the exhale twisting through the hair on the top of her head. "Would y'do something for me, love?" he asked, finally packing enough in as tightly as he could before he started folding the ends of the thin paper.

She gave a nod, now too transfixed on his hands to speak with an even tone.

"Would you give this a lick for me?" he asked, "We've gotta seal it up before I can twist it all up."

"Like, the paper?" she clarified, eyeing the open flap he was presenting to her with the joint grasped carefully between his fingers.

Harry hummed a confirmation. "There's glue on this edge like an envelope. Gotta make it sticky, then I can close it up for us."

"Um, okay," she muttered, placing a steadying hand on his wrist as he brought the almost-joint to her lips.

Parting her mouth, she swiped the tip of her tongue along the very edge of the paper. It didn't taste quite as artificially sweet as a regular envelope, but then again, everything was coated in that dusky scent that the herb folded inside held.

"Thank you, baby," he told her, pulling the joint from her lips as he did the closing motion of sealing the edge to the roll. She watched as he did the final step, twisting down the free edge into a tight swirl before he presented it with the filtered end between his fingertips. "All done."

In front of (Y/N) was the stereotypical joint that she had seen in the few films that showed as much. The paper was translucent in the way that she could clearly see it was filled from the inside with dark, green flakes. The filtered edge was tapered down into a small funnel, leaving the head of the roll trumpeting out, thick with the ground up weed.

"That was fast," (Y/N) muttered, wanting to reach out and touch, but too scared.

"I've gotten pretty good, I can't lie," he joked with her, pressing his lips to the back of her head. A paused settled again before he spoke to her, his head still dipped down as he murmured, "Y'still feeling alright, darling? Still want to, or do y'want to go to bed and watch a movie instead?"

Examining the joint in front of her, the thick scent of the weed surrounding her with the heat of Harry's chest at her back, she nodded her head. "I still want to."

Dropping an arm to wrap around her waist from behind, Harry hugged her to him for a moment. "Grab a jacket then, and we'll go out back for a second, yeah?"

"Outside?" she asked, turning in his hold.

"Don't want it stinking up the house, right?" He looked at her with a raised brow, already stepping towards the closet in search of his own coat. "We'll be fast, baby, 's alright."

(Y/N) supposed he was onto something, realizing that she had never been struck by the heavy scent like she would figure if he had smoked in his bedroom. As long as no one complained, it wasn't a bad idea to head outback for a second. It would be nice to take in deep breaths in between the smoke too, she figured.

With a set of slippers on her feet, and a thick hoodie on her body, she followed Harry out the back door, ending on the back patio. He sat on the stoop at her feet, patting the space next to him.

"Warm enough?" he asked, moonlight waning above their heads.

Snuggling closer to his side, she nodded her head. "I'm alright, thank you. Are you warm?"

Despite the unzipped jacket on his form and the thin t-shirt underneath, Harry gave her a small smile. "'M good, baby."

Flicking out a lighter and the joint from his pocket, he sparked the flame with a flick of his fingers.

He ran the spark over the trumpeted tip of the joint, his face warming in the firelight glow. "We'll take it easy tonight, yeah?" he murmured, concentration on his hands, "I don't think it'll take much to get y'there, so we probably won't finish this but we'll save the rest for another time if you want."

She watched as he rotated the edge of the joint over the flame, evenly burning the tip. "Are you not going to have any?"

"I will," he assured her, "But, I want to make sure I can take care of you. I won't be having too much."

Having a deja vu moment, (Y/N) was reminded of how it felt to be sitting in his lap as he fed her wine, keeping his own head clear while he let her run wild.

With the end of the joint glowing a warm orange, Harry put the lighter away. He ashed the very tip away, revealing cool lavender smoke twisting through the air with a heady scent clinging to the particles.

"Want the first go?" he asked, tipping the roll towards her in an offer.

"No, no," she answered immediately, "You first."

His smile was lopsided as he agreed, pulling the joint to his mouth. She watched as he tucked the filtered end between his lips, taking in a shallow inhale with the fiery end glowing to life. His chest expanded as he inhaled. He only pulled the roll away from his lips when his chest was puffed with smoke, a lingering second passing before he exhaled, plumes of dancing smoke drifting through the air. The heavy, thick aroma of the weed surrounded them.

(Y/N) couldn't pull her eyes from him as the smoke seeped from between his lips, a thin, violet filter hazing his features. The moon above seemed to catch each particle, drowning the scene in cool toned shades, muted and closed.

She waited for something to change in the way he looked, the way he acted. When the only thing he did was turn to her with a blink, once again offering the joint to her for a try, she wasn't sure what she had expected.

"Do y'think y'can do that?"

Her brows creased. "Do what?"

Amusement molded his features as he tipped his chin towards his offering. "Taking a hit," he stated, "Inhaling, and everything."

"I-I think so," she answered, carefully pulling the roll from his fingers. She hesitated before taking it to her lips, nervous to replicate his actions while he watched. "Do you feel any different?"

His smile was warm as he shook his head. "No—probably won't be too different tonight. I've built my tolerance pretty high, so I'll be fine."

"Oh," she sounded, feeling the slightest bit disappointed knowing that she wouldn't get the full experience of seeing him for what he was under the influence. Maybe sometime she could convince him to let it go. Focusing back on the joint, she stared intensely at the thin ribbon of smoke falling from the tip. "How do I inhale?"

"Jus' breathe in, baby," Harry laughed, throwing an arm across her shoulders. He tucked her against his side, warming her through her layers. "Only take a little bit at a time, though. And, if y'need to cough, jus' let it happen. You'll be alright."

Though it was only a few tiny rules, it felt like so much to remember, to keep track of while she was trying something so foreign.

"Wh-What if I take too much?" she muttered, worrying now the longer that she let it keep burning. She hoped she wasn't wasting everything he'd done for her.

Harry paused, rolling her question around his head before answering. "You'll be alright," he assured her, "Jus' don't want you to take too much, or anything, that's all."

The idea of taking too much scared her more than the other rules. She didn't know what too much was; how would she know if there was too much in her lungs, how would she know if she needed to pull back?

"Can you help me?" she murmured, worry lacing through her tone.

"I can hold it for you if you want?" he offered, though his option didn't seem so concrete as she had hoped.

"You can't do more?"

A small silence sat between them when he didn't answer right away. She looked to him, finding him looking at the joint between her fingers with a contemplative crease between his brows.

"I might have an idea that we can try," he started, flicking his gaze to match hers. "Y'trust me, right?"

Her nod was immediate.

A small smile folded his lips as he took the joint from her hand. He brought the roll to his lips, taking in another deep inhale with his eyes fluttering as his chest expanded. The cherry brightened as he pulled in the smoke. As soon as he pulled it away from his mouth, he spoke to her in a muddled voice, a small streak of smoke escaping through his nose.

"C'mere."

(Y/N)'s eyes rounded out in confusion. She was already right here, right?

The arm Harry had thrown across her shoulders slithered around her form until his palm came to a cradle on her cheek. He pressed forward then, his lips parting just enough for (Y/N) to get the hint.

He wanted to kiss her.

Fluttering her eyelids to a close, she leaned forward in an attempt to meet him halfway. Harry, with his hand on her cheek, stopped her short, a small distance left between them.

With her eyes opening to slits, she found him looking to her with his own gaze trained on her lips. His tender hand on her cheek shifted until his thumb was resting in the full of her bottom lip. Tugging just slightly, he parted her pout into a small gape. Harry ripped his head, leaning just that much closer with his pursed lips.

(Y/N) held her breath, her own mouth parted open as she felt soft plumes of smoke fan over her lips. His lips just barely grazed her own, pressing against the soft pillows as the smoke ghosted over her tongue, heady and thick.

Pulling away just enough with smoke still twirling around his features, he told her, "Breathe in, baby."

His voice was still heavy in his throat, emulating the way he spoke in the morning. The detail gave (Y/N) something to focus on as she instinctually closed her mouth as if biting down, the smoke now contained to a thin veil between them. He kept his hand steady on her cheek as she inhaled the way she saw him do, her chest bloating as she filled her lungs with the gifted smoke.

While she didn't feel the burning in her chest that she thought would accompany the smoke, she instead felt a thick heat in the back of her throat. She tried to mimic what she had seen Harry do, keeping the smoke in her lungs for a moment before exhaling, but she couldn't keep up when she felt her eyes begin to water.

Unable to handle it much longer, (Y/N) released her breath in clumsy pants, embarrassed to be reacting so intensely right in Harry's face. Though, all he did was stay steady in his spot by her, thumbing at her chin and coaxing her through it.

Tipping her head down, she finally coughed into her sleeve, eyes watering as she went with his hand falling to the slope of her neck.

"'S alright, baby, jus' let it out," he murmured, his voice a gentle soothe, "You'll feel better in a second, love."

By the time she regained her breath, there was a slight glaze over the back of her throat—not quite a tingle, but not entirely normal. Harry tipped his head down by then, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth with his palm spanning the shelf of her collarbones.

"Y'alright?" he murmured, ever patient when he pulled away to match her eyes.

Nodding her head, (Y/N) swallowed around her odd throat. "Was that alright?" she croaked, wet bottom lashes grazing the height of her cheekbone.

A fond smile molded Harry's features into soft curves. "Y'did jus' fine, lovebug. So proud of you for not getting scared," he praised her, thumb running over her warm skin, "Feels a little weird doesn't it?"

(Y/N) didn't have to think before she nodded her head, watching as he ashed the joint they had probably let burn for just a touch too long. "Really weird," she told him earnestly, "My throat feels funny, but that's all so far."

"Yeah? Want to keep going?" His eyes skated over her features, taking in every reaction, every minute stretch of her muscles.

While she was sure there was something that would hit soon, she still felt comfortable enough to take a little more from him. (Y/N) answered with a small nod.

"Same way we did before?"

Remembering the feel of his lips glancing across hers, the faint brush of the tip of his nose over hers, she could feel her skin simmering. "Yeah," she answered, hoping he thought the breathy quality of her voice was a lingering side effect of her coughing.

He didn't look entirely fooled when that sly smile touched his lips. "Alright," he said, bringing the joint back up to his lips, "We'll do a couple more, then I think you're done, baby. That alright?"

"That's alright," she murmured, "Thank you."

This time, watching him taking in the long drag, (Y/N) knew what to expect when he turned to her. She allowed him to hover close enough that he was almost kissing her as he blew out another plume of smoke for her to inhale. When she took her time filling her lungs with the smoke, Harry tipped his head and smeared his lips over her cheek, kissing down her neck.

She had more confidence this go around, coaxing herself through as Harry held her. That thick feeling in the back of her throat intensified as she closed her eyes, her chest expanding under her borrowed hoodie.

"Doing good, baby," he murmured into her ear, pulling away to match her gaze, "Go ahead and breathe out, love. I think you're good."

Following his direction, the lavender smoke twirled between them. Sucking in clean air, she filtered out her lungs. This time around, opening up her eyes to look up at the moonlight and the stars blinking over the inky canvas, things felt different. There was a bit of lethargy to her movements, even in the darting of her gaze. Her limbs felt as if there was extra weight attached, something heavy that slowed her before she even had a chance to move.

It was an odd feeling, something that she'd never experienced before or had anything of comparison to, but it wasn't unpleasant. She'd even say she liked it so far.

Harry seemed to pick up on the fact that she was edging into new territory as he watched over her, eyes sparking from amusement. "One more?"

"Yeah," she settled, her lips feeling looser the more she sunk into the moment, "One more."

"Wanna try by yourself?" he asked, taking his own small puff from the joint before he was angling it towards her.

"Not by myself, no," she argued, still scared to be in charge of her own dosing.

"I can hold it for you if y'want—take it back when you've had enough," Harry offered, letting a cloud leave his lips as he spoke.

"Okay," she nodded, taking on his offer.

"Open," he instructed, setting the filter of the joint between her lips, "Then jus' suck in, okay? You'll be able to feel it in the back of your throat, so stop if you've had enough and I haven't taken it back yet."

(Y/N) wrapped her lips around the filter, taking in Harry's directions with absent ears. She couldn't imagine he wouldn't be able to catch herself and her intake before he did.

Emulating what she'd seen from him before, she sucked in, her cheeks hollowing just enough to show off the shape of her cheekbones. The back of her throat warmed, embers igniting in a low burn. This was more than what Harry had given her before, but she didn't mind. This would be just enough,she figured.

At the perfect moment, Harry pulled away prompting her to breathe out the final cloud of smoke. He asked the joint once more, a small pile of grey dust having collected at their feet.

A few huffed coughs fell from (Y/N)'s lips, unused to the feeling of gathering the smoke directly from the source. Harry wrapped his arm around her, tucking her into his side as she eased through the final intake.

"How do you feel?" he asked her, voice low under the moonlight.

Looking around, (Y/N) tried to find the answer to the question.

It was an odd feeling, she decided. She felt both light and heavy at the same time, her head in the clouds with her body entirely anchored to the ground. Prickles poked at her skin, her limbs their own entity as she brought her hands into a bundle in her lap.

There was no other way to describe it other than the fact that she felt high.

"Good," she answered simply, "Different."

"You'll get used to it, my love," he murmured into her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the space just before.

"Do you feel different?" she asked, her voice heavy in her dry throat.

"A little," Harry explained, stubbing out the cherry of the joint, "But, I think 's time we get inside before either of us freezes, don't you think?"

"Yeah, yes."

It was when Harry let out a small huffed laugh that (Y/N) couldn't contain her own laughter. A loud peal fell from her lips. She wasn't even sure why she was laughing. That only made her laugh harder.

—————

"That is so funny," (Y/N) giggled to herself, clenching her hands in the fabric of her top lest she forget they were there. "Harry, did you see that?! It was funny!"

He was back in the kitchen, working over the stove with a pot of noodles boiling away and a cheesey sauce working on the other burner, leaving (Y/N) to watch this movie all on her own.

"Which part, baby?" he asked, his rumbling voice sounding farther away than she remembered.

(Y/N) blinked, watching the brightly colored animated characters go across the television screen. "The one that was just on! With the cat on the piano!"

How could he not have been paying attention? (Y/N) had never seen something so entertaining before, if she was being honest. This had to be her new favorite movie—she just needed to remember what it was called.

"Oh," he sounded, "I did see that, sorry, lovebug. It was very funny."

"Good," she responded absently, craning her neck to look over the back of the couch towards where he stood in the kitchen, "I'm so hungry, H."

"I know," he laughed, looking at her with his skin seemingly glowing and the smile of a prince. "'M almost done, okay?"

"How close is ‘almost’?"

His smile only widened at her line of questioning. (Y/N) mimicked that look without a thought.

"About five minutes. Can you wait that long?"

"I'll try." She couldn't help the pout that took her features. She had told him she was hungry what felt like hours ago, and she still was waiting for food. He wouldn't even let her help either, but she could argue that she would have eaten already if he just let her follow him to the kitchen.

Raising his brows, Harry fixed his attention back on the television screen. "Oh, look. The little cat is back, baby."

(Y/N)'s attention took a one-eighty as she did the same to face the TV once more. Harry was right, the kitten was back on screen. She didn't want to miss this.

The high had hit her at full force only minutes after Harry had taken her inside, setting off a firing squad of so many different feelings (Y/N) had never experienced before. She had so much energy, but at the same time she wanted to sleep. She wanted to kiss and hold her boyfriend, but also had to make a point to remember where her limbs were. She wanted to eat and drink as much water as she could, but couldn't find the attention to do either of those things. In the back of her mind, she even debated on writing some for the course paper she needed to work on before the midterm exam next month—her mind swirling with ideas, but they were all out of order.

How she decided on watching a movie instead of any of her other raucous ideas, she wasn't sure, but she was happy with the choice. This way, she was able to wrap up in the soft pink throw blanket that she left in his bedroom, sink into the new feeling, and make out with Harry when he was done cooking.

(It had really been Harry's prompting and prodding that led her to the conclusion that yes, she wanted to watch a movie and cuddle up with him while she ate, but he was happy with letting her assume it had been her own choice).

Time moved in mysterious ways since the high had hit, making it hard to decipher if it had been five hours or mere five minutes before Harry came to her with bowls of pasta and a buttery warm sauce poured over top.

"That looks so good, H," she bubbled, overjoyed at the sight of food, "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, baby," he smiled, "Do you need more water?"

"No, just—Hold on." (Y/N) stumbled over her words, organizing her thoughts as steadily as she could and ultimately failing in favor of reaching towards Harry.

The second he settled into the cushion at her side, she had his jaw cradled in her palms, lips puckered and pressed against the corner of his mouth. A laugh bubbled through his lips, his smile felt under her kiss.

"I missed," she laughed along with him, pulling away to watch his eyes light up and creases form around his smile, "Sorry."

"'S alright," he beamed, cheeks still cradled in her palms, "Jus' slow down and try again."

Though she didn't exactly have the wherewithal to follow his directions, she definitely tried her best. This time, she felt as if she went slower as she leaned in, pressing her lips to Harry's. He reciprocated her affection in soft kisses, (Y/N) melting the longer she reveled in his touch.

Her skin practically sang everywhere he touched her, taking her back to her wonderings of if there would be something extra to their affection while under the influence. That prickling that she had felt in her limbs just when the smoke started taking effect, now only occurred when he ran his fingertips over her skin or held her hand in his. The buzzing made her smile into the kiss, the pinpoint tickling under her skin.

"What's got you so smiley, hm?" Harry asked against her mouth, pulling away despite the tender hold she had on his cheeks.

She beamed up at him with an easy grin, a rose colored glaze over her vision of him. "I just like touching you," she told him, "It tickles."

He raised his brows in reaction, biting back a smile. "It tickles?"

Watching the clear amusement on his face, (Y/N) couldn't help her own smile from turning into bubbling laughter. "Uh-huh," she barely answered, everything else dissolving around her laughter.

"Now, why are you laughing?"

Harry's investigation only proved to make the entire moment funnier to (Y/N) as she doubled over. Snuggling into his chest, she clung to him with her laughter muffled against his shoulder. "I don't know," she giggled, barely sure that the words even left her brain.

"Oh, lovebug," he crooned, wrapping his arms around her, "What am I going to do with you?"

A contented smile landed on (Y/N)'s features as she settled down. She burrowed against him, smushing her cheek on his shoulder and bundling her arms between their bodies. "Love me."

The tip of Harry's nose skimmed the top of her head. "I already do that," he told her, words fanning across the strands of hair crowning her.

"I love you too," (Y/N) answered simply.

The cryptic sense of time she held struck once again when Harry drew away from her. Her body had relaxed into his as if she had napped on him for hours, but she could have been nestled in his arms for a max of three minutes for all she knew.

"Are y'still hungry? Or do y'want me to save your noodles for later?"

With that, (Y/N) swore her mind had been blown. "You brought me food, I totally forgot!" Twirling too fast for her brain to keep up, she was almost dizzy by the time she saw the bowl of pasta Harry had set in front of her, complete with salty cheese layered on top just like she asked. "That looks so good, H! Thank you."

Harry gave her a small smile. "You're welcome, baby."

A minute sense of deja vu niggled in the back of her head for just a second, but (Y/N) chose to ignore it in favor of twirling her fork through the spaghetti noodles.

Had cheese always tasted this good?

—————

"Harry, are you listening? This song is beautiful."

"I know, love. 'S perfect, huh?"

The drawl of Harry's response had (Y/N) peeking up at him. She found him lying with his eyes closed, mouth parted in a small gape, though his hand on her back never slowed the soothing circle he had curated.

"Are you tired?" (Y/N) whispered.

A slight smile touched the corner of his mouth at her question. "A little. Are you?"

(Y/N) paused, evaluating herself to give him an honest answer. "Yeah. A little." His heartbeat was set to a soothing pace under her ear, slowing into a steady rhythm as if urging him to sleep. "Are you almost asleep?"

Though she could see his eyes were closed and his breathing was coming in soft puffs, Harry didn't slack on the duties he had taken on for the night. Since pulling her to bed and setting a playlist to softly sing through his bedroom, he had kept his cuddling hold on her firm and anchoring. He answered her every time she spoke to him and even crawled his way to the bedside table to skip the song whenever she started to whine over the melody.

"A little," he smiled, his voice a deep rumble, "Are you?"

Another pause. "Maybe," (Y/N) answered honestly. She could fall asleep right now if she wanted, but she also wanted to keep listening to music.

Harry hummed, his chest vibrating under her cheek. "Is there anything y'want before y'get sleepy? More water or a snack?"

What did she need before she could peacefully fall asleep?

Blinking her gaze up at him, she took in the tip of his nose, the curving pillow of his cupid's bow and the creamy texture of his skin.

"A kiss? Please?"

At that, Harry cracked his eyes open to peer down at her. "Y'haven't had enough of those yet?"

"Never," she answered, completely honest. Harry still plucked a smile onto his lips at her response.

"Can't blame you, darling—me neither."

Shifting between the sheets, Harry used his free hand to cup (Y/N) cheek and tip her chin as he dipped down. He sealed his lips over hers in a loving kiss, nothing more than a soft pressing of their lips. She swore she could feel every ridge, every dip, every plane of his touch, catalogued to her memory though she hoped she would recall it in less fuzzy detail.

"Love you," she murmured between breaths, immediately planting her lips across his once more.

Harry smiled into the contact. He broke the rhythm of her kisses even further when he drew away, ignoring the way she chased after him with a craned neck and puckered lips.

"I love you too, lovebug." His eyes scanned over her features not for the first time that night, though something softened in his gaze. "You had a good time tonight?"

Walking through the lavender veiled events, everything was just a bit hazy and herbal, (Y/N)'s smile only grew.

"Uh-huh," she beamed up at him, feeling herself settle into him that much more, "Thank you for showing me."

Thumbing at the height of her cheekbone, Harry surged forward to press a delicate kiss to the bridge of her nose. "'M happy y'feel good, darling. That's all I want when we try new things."

"I'm always happy when I'm with you."

(Y/N) blinked as she saw his face light up with a bubbly smile, creases appearing by his eyes, dimples thumbed into his cheeks, and a slight flush over his nose.

Had his smile always been that pretty?

—————

eeeek! so happy I could get a new aster blurb out for everyone this year! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and lmk if yu have any ideas for anything you'd like to see!

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grandline-fics · 1 month

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Terms of Endearment

DESCRIPTION: You call them by a term of endearment without realising

WARNINGS: just fluff, mentions of alcohol in Luffy's

CHARACTERS: Ace, Sabo, Luffy | Law, Kid, Shanks, Marco, Zoro

WORDS: 1,933

A/N: The next part in this in honour of reaching 500 followers. Hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

You knew nothing would ever happen between you and the Division Commander. You knew he was just a likeable guy who was friendly and warm with everyone. Countless times you told yourself that he was just nice with everyone and yet still you couldn’t help but feel your heart beat just a little faster when he smiled at you and you couldn’t stop yourself from liking him a little more each time he spoke with you and spent time with you outside of chores and tasks being done onboard the ship. It didn’t matter though, even with the knowledge nothing romantic would happen you were happy to be considered a close friend of Ace’s.

One morning you were perched on the edge of the ship’s railing and keeping a critical eye on the thick wall of cloud draped over the entirety of the sky above the next island you were approaching. It made a stark difference to the clear blue you and the rest of the crew were currently under. You were no stranger to the absurdity of the ever changing weather and separate climates certain islands had but seeing what you were going to be greeted with was starting to sour your mood. It wasn’t as fun stopping at an island if there was a storm to endure.

“Glaring at the clouds won’t make them change you know.” You looked over your shoulder to see Ace hop up onto the railing and sit down beside you. Glancing out of the corner of your eye you were jealous of how relaxed he was and let out a long sigh as you returned your stare to the clouds you could now see were darker than you had originally thought.

“Who knows, stranger things have happened on these seas.” You mused, scowling harder now that the idea was in your head. “Maybe I have the ability to control weather and neither of us knew it? Don’t know unless I try.”

From beside you Ace laughed, reclining back to support his body on his elbows and grinned up at you.

“If that were possible, that’d be a pretty dumb gift. Glaring at clouds to make them obey you? You’d get a headache all day.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, getting more comfortable too, lying down and tucking your arms behind your head.

“Look we can’t all be super amazing and control fire like some people, Ace.” You teased, a small yawn breaking from your lips as your eyes closed. You were still a ways away from the stormy island so you may as well make the most of the sunshine and warmth until then. “Some of us are just boring.”

“I definitely wouldn’t call you boring.” Ace told you. Safely in the knowledge that you couldn’t see him, he could observe you carefully with softened gaze. “You’re one of my favourite people to hang out with.”

“Aw thank you love, you always know just what to say.” Your relaxed smile brightened considerably but you were too drowsy to open your eyes again to look at the man beside you. It was also why you hadn’t realised your slip of the tongue. Ace however tensed and sat up a little straighter from his once relaxed position. His eyes were widened and a soft pink was dusting his freckled skin. All this time he’d thought his feelings were one-sided and now he was hit with the reality that it might not be the case. Overcome with a burst of excitement and hope he quickly lay back down and used his hat to hide his giddy expression and began to think about how to subtly broach the subject when you were awake.

SABO

“You’re not going to improve if you don’t keep your focus.” Hack lectured, swiftly knocking Sabo back with ease. Sabo managed to recover from the attack and retaliated with one of his own that was completely dodged to the point it made the attack look so pitiful. Hack paused in the sparring match to frown at the younger Revolutionary. “Seriously, what’s with you today? Do you need to take a break?” Quickly Sabo shook his head and forced himself to keep his attention on Hack but even then he couldn’t help but feel your presence silently calling to him.

You were oblivious to the power you had over the Chief of Staff, even from the very first day you joined the Revolutionary Army you’d somehow managed to make Sabo immediately endeared to you. Given Sabo’s personality he was able to pass off his momentary slips and lack of concentration when you were around and for the most part others hadn’t made the connection. Most being the word. People like Hack, Koala, and Dragon however knew. Normally Hack wouldn’t mind and ignore it but this was the third time in the short amount of time of the sparring match that he’d seen Sabo zone out and look your way as you were speaking with Dragon about a recent mission you’d been on. Enough was enough. After knocking Sabo onto his back, Hack turned and called you over. You finished your conversation with Dragon and approached the sparring pair with a soft, expectant smile while Sabo got to his feet. “I want you to spar Sabo with me. Perhaps having two opponents will help sharpen his dulled senses.”

You became concerned to hear Hack’s less than complimentary tone at the blond and you looked to Sabo with a light frown, scrutinising his features carefully. Could it be he was sick? Was something else be bothering him? It wasn't like the Chief of Staff to be so distracted especially when it came to his training. At the suggestion of you fighting along with Hack, Sabo’s expression became a mix of uncertainty and irritation. He didn’t want to spar against you but he couldn’t outright deny Hack requesting you join them given he had no real reason to oppose it. Sabo could only take a breath and adjust his stance while praying he didn’t make an embarrassment of himself.

At first having you as part of the fight helped Sabo when it came to focusing on the fight, by having two skilled fighters attacking he didn’t have the ability to pay attention to his personal feelings. However when he kept his sight on Hack as the priority he’d slipped up and forgotten you. You took the window of opportunity and ducked under Sabo’s arm, your face less than inch from his. Quickly you hooked her arm around his and tucked your foot around his ankle, twisting and knocking him to the ground. You kept a firm hold on Sabo’s wrist and pressed your knee into his back. “Give up sweetie?” you asked innocently, unable to see Sabo’s eyes widen. Before he could respond you were abruptly called for by another Revolutionary to go out on a mission. Pouting you released Sabo and left him and Hack.

“Please tell me I didn’t imagine that…” Sabo uttered, almost begging Hack. He looked up to see the Fishman grin at him and help him to his feet.

“No I heard it too. Funny thing is I don’t think they noticed they did it.” Sabo watched your retreating form and brightly smiled.

“Interesting.”

LUFFY

For the most part Luffy can be considered fairly clueless about a lot of things if they don’t involve his ambition to be King of the Pirates and obtaining the One Piece, doing whatever he wanted and eating all he wished. That included his own deeper feelings at times. However no matter how complex Luffy’s emotions were about certain things he found it easier to break them down into more simplistic views and gain a better understanding about them. He found he had to do that with you and the longer you were part of his crew the more he had to take an inward look at his feelings. So far he was able to discern that he liked you, he liked being around you and it was mutual because you’d been all too eager to join his crew. For the longest time it was simple as that.

Things however became complicated one night after he and the rest of the crew helped free another town from a corrupt ruler. As always the celebration was a large affair with plenty of food, music and drink. While Luffy wasn’t a drinker and happily indulged in all the food he could get his hands on, you were pulled into a drinking contest with some of the locals along with Nami, Zoro, Franky, and Usopp. You’d managed to hold your own for a respectable amount but when you felt the world being to tilt and your mind grow hazy you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle anymore.

Staggering from the table you somehow managed to wander to the only spot you knew you’d feel completely safe and content with. You didn’t know how you managed it, call it instinct or sheer will but you stopped beside your Captain and slid down to sit on the soft grass beside him, leaning against his back for support. Luffy looked over his shoulder to grin at you before continuing to eat. “You lost huh?” he laughed before taking a large bite of a meat skewer.

“It’s cheating when Zoro plays.” You grumbled, shifting to get more comfortable against your Captain. “He’s so smug too. Didn’t even wanna win anyway.” You fell into soft laughter with Luffy and then drifted into content silence. Subconsciously Luffy moved while he ate, seamlessly turning so you were leaning against his side and neither of you seemed to even notice the new position.

When morning came and you woke with a hangover and lack of memory you let out a worried groan, hoping that whatever you’d done wasn’t too embarrassing or at the very least you hoped that everyone else was also too drunk to remember too. Wincing you pushed yourself up to see that you were in your own bed. Hazily you tried to force your brain to work and managed to pull out the image of Luffy which made sense, he was your go-to for anything. Knowing he didn’t drink, you knew you could also rely on him for the truth on what you failed to remember. You found Luffy sitting on Sunny’s head just as you knew he’d be but you became worried to see him frowning, deep in thought. “Everything okay Luffy?” you asked, flinching when Luffy’s head swiftly snapped around to look at you intently.

“No! You’re not allowed to call me that.” Immediately worry and guilt took hold. What had you done? Would he ever forgive you? Oh no, what if it was so bad he’d kick you off of the ship for good.

“Wh-what do you mean?“ You asked panicked and feeling sick which was not from the hangover. “Whatever I’ve done I’m sorry but I don’t remember. Please tell me what I did wrong. I can fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Luffy’s expression became confused. “I’ve just decided that you can’t call me Luffy anymore I like what you called me last night after I helped you to bed better.”

“Oh…” you couldn’t tell what you were feeling in that moment exactly. Desperately you tried to think what you called him, silently thankful that whatever it was hadn’t offended him. “Well if you want me to call you that instead you have to remind me.”

“You called me dear.” Luffy grinned while your face reddened.

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bandgie · 8 months

Text

A+ Student

nonidol!Felix x fem!reader

synopsis: Felix knows he has an innocent face with soft features. He likes to think his personality is as sweet as his looks, but he does tend to use it to his advantage sometimes. Especially when it comes to his favorite things, like sex.

warnings: MDNI 18+, DUBIOUS, UNSOLICITED PHOTOS, two-faced Felix, Felix is manipulative but not in a violent or cruel way, PIV, condom use, fingering, reader is really unsure but goes along, SUPER naive reader, college au, reader is a whore in spirit not in practice, correct vaginal terms (we getting educational) idk that's it

3.3k words

Felix’s dorm was surprisingly rather clean when you walked in. He had asked you over to help model for his anatomy homework, preferring a real person rather than just a photo for reference. It was a shocking request, given that you had only spoken to him a handful of times. You were a little uncomfortable with the idea, but seeing Felix’s pleading eyes and hopeful smile made you agree.

How could you say no to such a face?

Both of you were lounging in the living room, making small talk. You learned that Felix loved baking, going to school events, and hanging out with his closest friends. He was so outgoing he seemed to make friends with every person he came across.

It wasn't until Hyunjin, his roommate, came home that you both decided to retire to Felix's room. You were nervous, even if it was just for his assignment. You didn't feel too confident in your ability to model, but Felix was very adamant that you were the perfect muse for him.

"Go ahead and just stand there," Felix points to the other side of the room. He has a sketchbook in his hand facing you, "I'll be honest, I suck at drawing. I might be a while." You laugh and shake your head, "It's cool, take your time." Felix smiles at you while you stand in position, still as possible.

Truthfully, Felix doesn't need a model. Hell, he's not even taking an anatomy class. You caught his eye during calculus, and it didn't take long for him to try and meet with you after class. He quickly discovered that you were open to new friends, but you were very picky when it came to the people you slept with. Felix didn't have the time, nor did he care enough, to play the long game just to get in your pants.

It's his dirty little secret, but Felix loves having sex. He doesn't care with who, when, or why, he just can't help but drown in the feeling of ecstasy. Most people are very open to fucking Felix, all he has to do is ask nicely and bat his eyelashes. With you though, you were a little more traditional. He could tell you'd rather make love than fuck, and although Felix has a big heart, he also has a big dick he likes to use often.

You could feel your muscles twitching. Standing was supposed to be an easy task, but your lower back began to ache. It didn't take long for you to start shifting from side to side, occasionally cracking your neck to loosen up your joints. Felix looks at you softly, a small pucker on his lips. "Are you okay? Is it getting uncomfortable?"

"It's fine," you brush off his concern. "I can manage. I just haven't stood like this for so long before." Felix sets his sketchbook down and shakes his head, "No, I don't want you to feel bored. You can lay on the bed if you want, I can draw you from different angles that way."

You want to tell him that it's not a big deal, that you're not bored. But seeing his piercing brown eyes and hearing his deep voice makes you want to please him. Like a cat, Felix watches as you place yourself on the bed. You smooth your skirt out and silently curse yourself, why did you choose such a short skirt?

Felix followed suit quickly, grabbing his sketchbook back up and standing beside you. His eyes scanned your body as he sketched, and it took every fiber in you not to squirm from his gaze. You always thought his eyes looked beautiful, a pretty golden brown that seemed to melt in the sun. In this moment however, they seem dark. Like a shadow hidden beneath his softness daring to peep out.

Honestly, everything about Felix was beautiful. From his eyes right down to his full, pink lips. They always looked so dainty, plush like they were meant for kissing. It was hard not to stare at it as his tongue poked out to lick his lips almost hungrily.

You tried to ignore it, the way his gaze trailed your body like he was looking at a meal rather than a mannequin. It went straight to your head, and you hated yourself for having such dirty thoughts. His hands never touched you, but you started wondering how gentle they might feel if they caressed your skin. He told you he was in taekwondo, so it must be easy for him to open your legs.

Stop, you quickly try to drown the thoughts out. You would be horrified if Felix found out that you were getting wet in his bed. That you were picturing him with his nimble fingers on your pussy. How perfect he would look with his golden hair between your-

"Uh-oh," Felix mumbles, quickly catching your attention.

"What's wrong?" Your voice is raspy, and you pray Felix thinks it's because you've been quiet for a while. He lets out a dramatic sigh and tsks, "I pretty much finished the outline, but there was something else I needed to sketch. I don't know if you're comfortable with that though."

You sit up a little, "What is it?"

He fiddles with his pencil and looks at you shyly, "We're mostly focusing on female anatomy. And my professor want us to draw a...vagina." Your expression must say enough, because he quickly continues on. "It's okay if you don't want to! I completely understand. You can leave and I can just look at photos or whatever. I mean, I don't really like looking at photos. I could ask someone else too."

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure of how to answer. It's not like you're a virgin, but you also aren't okay with just anyone seeing your nakedness. Some people may call you a prude, but you honestly just get really nervous when it comes to stuff like that. You would love to be able to sleep around and get that full college experience, but your anxiety sometimes gets the better of you.

Plus, he said someone else.

"It's o-okay," you nod timidly. You swear Felix's eyes light up brighter than the sun itself, "Really?!" You give another nod, this one more sure, "Yeah, really." Though his smile seems genuine, you can't help but shake the feeling that it wasn't that pure smile you were used to.

Like he completely expected this.

There isn't much time to dwell on your thoughts when he gets on his knees at the edge of the bed. Felix lifts your skirt almost eagerly to see your panties. You screw your eyes shut, hoping that he doesn't see the wet patch that had started form. It's only a matter of time before your pussy starts dripping from his attention.

Easy. You’re just so easy and Felix can't believe you're so trusting in him. It almost makes him feel bad. There's a slight dampness in your underwear though, and that makes Felix not feel so guilty. With gentle fingers, he grabs your underwear by the hem and pulls it down. He notices how you tense, the way you hesitantly lift your hips to let him completely remove it.

He especially loves the little gasp you make when the air hits your bare pussy. Felix stares at your glistening folds and licks his lips eagerly. Your pussy just looked so inviting as it drooled for him. He knows better than to touch though, you would be running for the door in a matter of seconds. Felix needs to take it slow, carefully. He needs to ignore how his jeans squish his hard-on and pick up his drawings and pencil instead.

You can faintly hear the scratching of graphite on paper. If you look up at the ceiling and stare at the white walls, you can imagine you're in a doctor's office. You're trying to think of everything but Felix's eyes on your cunt to keep yourself from getting wet. It's hard not to when he's breathing on your pussy, soft hums from him as he works.

Then, you feel fingers near your lower lips, and you snap your head up. "What are you doing?" Your question makes Felix look up at you, and boy was that a mistake. You can perfectly see his slightly messy hair, the flush in his cheeks, his adoring eyes on yours.

You clench around nothing.

"Oh! Sorry," he smiles sheepishly at you. "I was just trying to move around your labia. I need to get a good look, I won't touch too much I promise." As much as you want to leave this awkward situation, you can't seem to find the words to tell him that you don't want to. You would hate to upset Felix, and you don't think you could forgive yourself if you hurt his feelings.

So you suck it up, pray that he can't smell how turned on you are, and nod. "Okay."

His touch resumes, and you can feel his fingers spread your pussy lips open. You shiver, biting your lower lips to stop yourself from whimpering. You can feel blood pumping throughout your body, the way your cunt drips from his brief touches. Felix seems to move your pussy around often, even accidentally brushing his fingers against your bud.

Felix giggles, making you interrogate him. "What's funny?" He shakes his head, his fingers ghosting your clit, "You're just really wet. It's cute." You can feel your face heat up from his answer. "I-its a normal response," you try to play it off. "You're touching me...there! I can't help how it gets."

Your explanation has Felix laughing, making you blush more. "I know," he says softly. "It just lets me know I'm doing a good job and that you're not in pain." You nod at his reasoning, feeling somewhat relaxed that Felix didn't make you feel bad about it.

There are a few silent seconds before he speaks again, "Do you mind if I enter a few fingers in? I just need to get a feel of the vaginal canal, it's the last part." You groan internally, but you have already come this far. "That's fine, but won't that affect your drawing?"

Felix hasn't been drawing since he started playing with your pussy, but you were too busy focusing on not getting wet that you hadn't noticed. "I think I can manage." He smiles brightly at you.

Felix lifts your legs up so your knees are pointed at the sky. The skirt covers his face, and you're thankful that it hides your aroused expression. You don't need to see how close Felix is to your cunt, you swear you can feel his nose brush against you when he slips his finger inside.

You jolt at the intrusion. It's not painful in the slightest, being that you were wet enough to take him in. It's just been a while since anything's been inside you, and the gentle stretch is easy to find pleasurable. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan when he gently starts pumping his digit. It's embarrassing that you can hear your arousal with every stroke, but Felix doesn't comment on it at all.

He's starting slow on purpose. Felix wants you to open up for him so that when he begins the main course, you'll have no doubt that you want to help him out. Your walls are soft, warm, and tight when he slides his finger in and out. He watches as your pussy drenches itself, a clear sign that you're preparing for something bigger.

Experimentally, he slides another finger in. You don't say anything, though you begin breathing heavier. Felix can tell it's getting harder for you to keep quiet, you moans become muffled from covering your mouth with your hands. There's no way you can still think you're helping Felix with his anatomy class, but your compliance says otherwise.

"I-is this helping?" You stutter. You tense when you feel Felix shove his fingers deep in you, biting your lips to hold back a squeal. "Yes, but I'm thinking I might need something bigger." His voice isn't as sweet anymore. There's a rasp to it, a deepness you've only heard in certain adult films.

"Bigger? What do you mean?"

Felix's fingers don't stop as he pumps into you, as if he's trying to coax the moans out of you. "I mean, the fingers help get a feel. But it's really hard to properly know how deep it can go with them. Ya know?" His accent sends shivers down your spine, and you have to tighten your core to stop creaming on his fingers.

"What would you use then?" You shake when Felix pulls his fingers out, a whine leaving your lips from the loss of contact. It's been long, so long since you felt like this. Dripping with need, wishing you had something inside you to cream on, the closeness of another person. It's hard to not think of sex when the most gorgeous man is front of you, examining your body for a mere grade.

You hear Felix stand up, and you lift your head up to see him. He taps the crotch of his pants, "This. I mean I get it if you don't want to. I just don't have any tools on me, and I would rather use something I'm familiar with too." Your legs slightly open from the thought of fucking him, but you're still uncertain.

"I dunno Felix," you bite your lower lip. "Is it really necessary?"

He ruffles his hair and nods. "For me? Yes. I really need to pass this class, and I'm willing to do anything for it. I'll wear a rubber of course. But I totally get it if you want to leave. You've already done a lot for me, and I don't wanna keep bothering you. I'll just ask someone else." Guilt-tripping is Felix's speciality in manipulating, and he's thankful for his sweet face that makes him seem so innocent.

"You're not bothering me," you say quickly. "I can do it. You don't need to ask for anyone else. I'll help you." To show your willingness, you reach down to grab the under parts of your thighs and expose yourself to Felix. His eyes land on your sex immediately, and he reaches for a condom in his pocket.

Why would he have a rubber ready to go?

Felix quickly unbuckles his belt and drops his pants to his ankles. He has no shame, no remorse as he pulls his boxers down to reveal his cock. He can feel your gaze on it, loving how you unconsciously lick your lips in anticipation. Felix places the tip of the condom on and rolls it down. He would kill to fuck you raw, but he doesn't want to push his luck.

Felix grabs you by the hips and pulls you down to him. You gasp at his strength, and he smiles in return. He moves one hand from your waist to angle his cock at your entrance. You can feel his tip sliding against your clit, making you moan. He shifts on his feet before sliding his tip in.

You whimper as he slides in, the lubricated condom making it easier for the intrusion. Maybe you should've told him you were on the pill, but you didn't want to take away from his concentration. Felix should focus on getting that A+, not fucking you senseless.

His thrusts are slow, and you're grateful that he's giving you time to adjust to his size. Every drag of his cock makes you cry out, and he groans when you clench down. He softly moans your name, and you try to hide your face in the pillows.

Thin strings of white cream start collecting on Felix's dick. It makes him drive deeper, harder into your pussy. He lifts your legs up to his chest, angling himself to have his cock slide all the way into you. The feel of his tip kissing your cervix makes you whine. A loud, high pitched noise that bounces off the walls.

"Mmm yeah you got a deep pussy," he confirms. His breathing is labored and his eyes can't seem to focus on one thing. Felix could stare at where your bodies connect, the way your breasts bounce, the fucked out expression on your face. There's just so much eye candy that it's impossible to favor one.

Your sounds though, those are his favorite to hear. He prays that Hyunjin can hear how well you're being fucked. There's nothing more satisfying than knowing that Felix can please you in this way, giving you what you've been needing all this time.

All you can do is make uh uh uh sounds when he starts slapping his hips against your ass. The squelching sound is so vulgar and you try to ignore the fact that it's your pussy being so wet. You can feel how you cunt pulses out arousal and cream around his cock. He seems to rather enjoy it though, maybe it's important for his assignment.

You can feel the fire in your belly, the shivers across your body, and the tightening in your core to tell you that you're close. You don't want to finish before Felix can complete his work. "Felix! I'm-mmf-I'm gonna cum! Oh shit, I'm gonna cum!"

Rather than pulling out and prolonging his task, he fucks you harder. He brings one hand down to rub your clit. You whimper and grip your thighs harder. "No! Felix I'm gonna cum, and you're not gonna-fuucckkk..." Your orgasm hits you hard, stopping you from talking. The contraction of your walls has Felix panting, making him not too far from finishing himself.

Your trembles don't stop when he keeps fucking into you. He's gripping your calves as he drives into you. You've made his cock and thighs so wet with your release that he doesn't notice that you've also wet his sketchbook. Not that he needs it anyway, he was just drawing scribbles the whole time.

Cries leave your lips from the overstimulation, but Felix doesn't bother to stop playing with your clit with his cock in you. If anything, it makes you keep gushing out cream. It brings Felix closer to the edge before he finally pulls out, ripping the condom off to stroke himself to completion.

You finally feel your body relax at the withdrawal of his touch. You're too busy catching your breath that you don't notice Felix jerking himself off until you feel warm liquid paint your pussy. You look downwards to see Felix cumming on your thighs, your cunt, and lower stomach.

His moans at the sight, his lips red and parted. Felix doesn't waste time in reaching down to the floor for his phone, quickly snapping a picture of your soiled pussy before you can protest.

"Felix!" You gasp at him. "I didn't say-"

"It's just for a reference. In case I forget." He throws his phone back on the ground and smears his cum across your stomach. You should argue with him and tell him that you want the photo deleted. There's no energy in you to fight though, and you find yourself thinking he might actually need it for other assignments.

You leave about an hour later with Felix thanking you profusely. "I think I'll pass the class. Thank you so much for your help."

Once you're out of his dorm, he runs back to his room and opens the group chat named 'My Boys.'

Felix: [image sent]

...

Hyun: not surprised, I could hear you guys from my room

Channie: fucken hell again? that's the third one this week

Quokka: and you didn't share??

I.N: im literally in class can you not

seungie: I second

Minho: virgins, that's a nice pussy. you got more pics?

Binnie: can I have a turn with her?

Felix giggles at the messages, kicking his feet in the air like a child. He quickly responds back to his friends.

Felix: nope, all mine ♡

a/n: damn this took a few days ngl. hoped you liked, feedback is appreciated!! proofreader/editor: @then-make-me (thank you!)

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icycoldninja · 3 months

Note

hello! may i request for a reaction/interaction for the sparda boys about having an s/o who is an artist? (for drawing reasearch and ideas teehee)

Ohoho coming right up!

Sparda boys x Artist!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-The day he discovered you were an artist was the day you gained a permanent, constantly willing model.

-Always wants you to draw him, no matter what time of day it is. He'll wake you up at 3:00 A.M. because he just put together the most badass outfit he's ever seen and wants you to sketch him in it. (Except it's the same outfit he always wears)

-The drawings you make of him hold more worth than museum art pieces in his eyes.

-Buys you sketchbooks, art supplies and whatever you need whenever he can afford them.

-To him, you are more talented than da Vinci. Not that he knows who da Vinci is, because according to him, you're the best artist in the world.

-Follows you on all your social medias and likes your every post.

■ Vergil ■

-Hangs your art up everywhere like a proud dad; the fridge can now barely be opened because there are so many drawings attached to it.

-He will (with your help) download any digital drawings and use them for a variety of purposes, such as his home screen on his phone, lock screen, etc.

-If you just gift him drawings of himself he will tear up with sentimantality and hastily excuse himself so he can go cry in private.

-Also buys you art supplies, paints, and whatnot whenever you need them.

-If he wasn't such a boomer, he'd follow your social medias too but unfortunately, he is tech-inept, so he can't.

-Loves watching you draw just as much as he enjoys looking at your drawings.

□ Nero □

-Normally, Nero isn't all that into art and really doesn’t care for it, but when you came along, all that changed.

-Now he's suddenly super interested in it and wants to watch you draw or have you teach him to draw whenever he's free.

-He's no Picasso, but he can at least manage a couple of funny looking stick men.

-Really into painting now, mostly because he can use the various attachments on his arm to make different patters on the paper. Yes, this is a complicated way to say he finger paints with his prosthetic arm.

-Any sketches you do of him, any at all, will go into his wallet unless you want to keep them for yourself.

-His wallet is now packed to the brim with folded up pictures of him that you drew, so whenever he's away on a long mission, he can stare at them and remember his badass S/O drew that for him.

● V ●

-You're an artist? V's perfect for you--he's a writer.

-He will write poems about whatever you draw; they're usually short limericks describing the image, praising your talent, or both.

-Looking at your latest masterpieces is the highlight of his day because they inspire him to write more poems.

-Calls you his "Magnificent artist".

-Shows your art to his familiars, who all agree (except Griffon, of course, he always has something to yap about) that it's quite nice.

-Is pleasantly surprised whenever he finds sketches/paintings/drawings of himself and is honored to be your muse.

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sunshinebuckybarnes · 1 year

Note

college!ari + elevator

Want you to want me

Pairing: college!Ari Levinson x female!reader

Summary: Ari really likes you but doesn't know how to ask you out.

Warnings: super fluffy, Ari is a shy beefy boy and should be protected always! This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Authors note: feels like I haven't written in soooo long! I've had this in the pipeline for a while but just needed the muse to cooperate ✨ this sits in the same universe as our lovely college!Andy and will most likely have more parts 🩷 (word count: 1.2k)

"Just ask her out."

Ari turns his gaze at the sound of his friends voice, already missing having you in his line of sight.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ari grumbles, fiddling with the pages of the book he's been pretending to study from for the past hour. If only he could pull his gaze away from you.

Andy let's out a chuckle, "she's cool, she's nice and she likes you, just go over there and ask her out."

Ari sighs as he looks over to you again. You're talking animatedly to someone from your class and Ari can't help the soft smile that graces his face as he watches you.

It's not like he hasn't spoken to you before, you both had a similar group of friends and you shared a couple of classes. It was the fact that every time he spoke to you he'd get all flustered and tongue-tied and you'd give him a smile that both calmed and tortured him.

"It's not that simple, man," Ari huffs, pulling his eyes away from you again.

"Sure it is, just go over there and ask her out."

Ari stares at him, "I can't just go over there and ask her out."

"Sure you can!"

Ari sighs, dropping his head as he thinks it over. He wants to ask you out, god he really wants to. But what if you say no? It's not like you'd laugh in his face or anything, you're not like that. But you're friends and what if that's all you see him as?

"Is that how you got your girl? You just asked her out and it all worked out fine?"

Andy smiles as he looks at his friend, his dumb, clueless friend.

"Well I tutored her for a while and then we fucked in that room over there," Andy grins, gesturing to one of the study rooms.

Ari stares at him wide eyed, "so you didn't even take her on a date?!"

"Christ you're old fashioned," Andy laughs, "I took her on a date after. When two people want each other you don't have to stick to a timeline, dude."

Ari can feel his cheeks warm up, he wasn't a prude or anything but he was raised by a single mother who instilled chivalry in him. And he liked you too much to risk doing anything stupid. He wanted, no needed, you to like him - in whatever capacity you were willing to give.

"I just want her to like me," he mumbles quietly, almost hoping Andy doesn't hear.

"Pretty sure she already does, man. And right now she's coming over here and I would put money on it being to talk to you and not me."

Ari's head whips up and he catches your eye as you reach their table. You flash him a sweet smile and Ari swears he loses the ability to think.

"Hey beefcake," you grin as you come to stand in front of him.

Beefcake.

That name, and the way you say it, has lived rent free in his head ever since the first time you called him it.

You'd been drunk at one of Andy's parties and to say you had two left feet would be an understatement. Ari had arrived late after working a double shift at the garage and honestly all he wanted to do was go to bed, but as soon as he saw you dancing and stumbling he knew he could stay for just one.

You caught his eye from across the room and he swears the smile you sent him could light up a whole town. He didn't know why you were so happy to see him but in your excitement and inebriated state you tripped over the leg of a table. You would have fallen flat on your face if it wasn't for Ari's quick reactions and strong arms.

He caught you with ease. His arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you up like you weighed nothing.

The giggle you let out has played on repeat in Ari's mind ever since. Your small hands resting over his biceps, giving them a squeeze and giggling even more.

"So strong," you giggled, "so beefy."

"How much have you had to drink?" Ari mused, unable to hold back the smile as he looked down at you.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest as you peered up at him pouring, "only a little. Thank you for catching me, beefcake."

Ari's brows lift as you descend into another fit of giggles. With your chin against his chest he just prays that you can't hear his heart thudding.

"Beefcake, really?"

"I think it suits you," you beamed.

And well, who was Ari to disagree.

Andy's voice snaps Ari back to the present.

"So, are you coming to the Halloween party on Friday?"

Ari feels his cheeks heating up, wondering how long he was staring at you before his friend jumped in. Looking anywhere but you, Ari just wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

"I don't know yet," you say, Ari's eyes flicking to you at the sound of your voice, surprised to see you're already looking at him, "are you going, beefcake?"

Ari stutters as he tries to form a coherent thought, "me? I, um, yeah I think so, maybe?"

Ari can see Andy smirking out the corner of his eye and wishes he could whack him in the face with his text book.

"Well I hope you decide to," you smile, biting your lip slightly and Ari feels his chest constrict, "who's going to catch me when I fall otherwise?"

Ari laughs and he swears your eyes get brighter, "well in that case I might make an appearance."

"Look forward to it," you wink, "well it was lovely seeing you boys. I'll see you in class Ari."

You send them a final smile before turning and heading to the elevator.

Ari's eyes remain on you until Andy throws a pen at his head.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"Ari, seriously go fucking ask her to the party! She clearly wants you to go."

"What? No, she was just being nice, making conversation," Ari tries to brush off, his eyes connecting with yours before you quickly turn away and step into the elevator.

"I swear to god, go ask her now or I will set her up with Steve!"

Ari shoots daggers at Andy before he's up and out of his chair and rushing towards the elevator. His brain doesn't catch up with his body until he's squeezed himself through the closing doors and is stood face to face with you.

"You okay there, beefcake?" You chuckle, taking in his rosy cheeks and the way his huge chest heaves under his shirt.

"Um, about Friday, err Halloween, I um, was wondering..." He trails off, scratching the back of his neck and looking anywhere but your eyes.

"I'd love to go with you," you smile softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Ari's face splits into the widest grin as he breathes out, "really?"

You let out a soft laugh as the elevator doors open on your floor, "really."

Leaning up onto your tip toes you place a chaste kiss to his cheek before turning on your heel and walking away.

"Make sure you wear something pretty, beefcake," you sing over your shoulder. Sneaking a quick glance back at your favourite shy, beefy boy before the doors close. You see him smiling and touching his cheek and you know you're already in too deep.

Aw I'm so happy to finally share this! My college boy universe is expanding and we have Ari in the club! As always comments and reblogs are super appreciated 🩷 also please send me thots for more college!Ari ✨

#ari levinson #college!ari #college!ari levinson #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fic #ari levinson fluff #chris evans fic

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britany1997 · 3 months

Note

hey bestie for requests i was thinking something with toxic/stalker/possessive paul with a reader he falls for love at first sight/pining for reader since he first saw them, whether that’s him getting jealous of someone at the boardwalk flirting with HIS partner (whether reader knows it or not yet) or reader hanging with friends and paul hates sharing the reader with anyone other than him or something like that. just super possessive paul sounds *chef’s kiss*. feel free to disregard if you don’t want to do this!

Every Breath You Take

Of course of course! Thought this would be a fitting first story for my return to writing:):) hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: stalker/yandere Paul, general yandere behavior, kidnapping, making out, light touching lol

Paul x fem! Reader

“He’s staring at you again,” the semi concerned words of your boyfriend came with a sharp elbow to the side. You catch the eyes of the same wild-haired blond man who seemed to pop up wherever you were.

Like always, your shared gaze didn’t last long as his blue eyes quickly flitted away. Yours narrowed, curious as to how he always seemed to know where you’d be.

“I’m sick of this asshole,” your boyfriend decides, rolling up his sleeves, “him and I are gonna have a conversation.” As he moved forward to walk towards the blond man you placed your hand on his chest, blocking him.

“Let’s not resort to violence,” you firmly suggested, “he’s not doing anything really he’s just…” you sucked in a breath, watching as the man pulled out a joint, not so subtly avoiding your eyes from afar, “watching.”

Your boyfriend scoffed, “you placate the weird kid you end up at the bottom of a lake.” Your nose scrunched in disgust. “What you didn’t see that Netflix doc babe?” He continued, “you never heard of Dahmer?”

You rolled your eyes, rolling your shoulder so his arm slid off, “you’re such a prick sometimes,” you mumbled.

Your boyfriend glared, “whatever, if I’m such a prick, why don’t you go be with that dude.” He gestured at the blue eyed man, who seemed to be trying (and failing) to pretend he wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“In fact,” your boyfriend pulled his keys from his pocket, “maybe he can give you a ride home.”

“What the fuck? You’re really gonna be like this right now?” you shook your head at your boyfriend’s hysterics, “real nice babe.”

He shrugged, saluting you mockingly before turning and walking away, leaving you stranded on the boardwalk.

Your head fell into your hands, what an asshole.

You looked in the direction of that blond guy, maybe he could give you a ride home. All things considered, he did seem harmless…and he was even sorta handsome. But unfortunately for you, he was also gone.

“Shit,” you muttered, pulling out your phone and clicking open the Uber app. You sighed. ‘This time I’m done with him,’ you thought to yourself, ‘no going back.’

“You sure?” A voice as smooth as silk purred over your shoulder, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

As you turned, your wide eyes bore into stunning blue ones. Your jaw went slack. You couldn’t deny that deep down you’d always thought he was an attractive guy…but up close? He might as well have been Adonis.

Maybe he liked seeing you squirm because the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk. “You done with him baby? Want a real man? Hmm?” His honeyed voice lulled you into a trance. You gasped like a fish as you stared at his perfect face. You let him slip an arm around your shoulder.

But then your brow furrowed, your shoulder tensing under his grip. “But…I never said I was done with him… not out loud,” you mused, shooting him a confused look.

He huffed a quick laugh. “You musta been thinkin out loud sugar,” he winked, “was half way to my bike when I heard you say that, thought I’d come back and getcha, give ya a ride maybe?”

That sounded nice. Much nicer than walking home. And hey, this guy seemed fine, the only thing he’d ever done to you was hang around while you were at the boardwalk, and damn, it was a public place anyway.

You shrugged and let him lead you towards his motorcycle as his arm slipped from your shoulder to your waist.

As you settled into the seat in front of him, he smiled brightly. “Lucky I was here huh sugar? The breakers is a good five miles from here.”

As one of his hands slid around a handlebar and the other wrapped itself around your hip, you froze. “How do you know which apartment complex I live in?” You whispered, fear coursing through you.

You felt Paul’s grip on your hip tighten as his body tensed behind you. Then he relaxed, fingers drawing light circles on your hip bone. “Fuck babydoll, knew I’d mess this up.” You felt him lean in closer, his head resting on your shoulder.

You willed your body to run, scream, do anything, but you were petrified, held captive by your fear and this man’s firm, veiny hands.

“This might hurt,” he whispered into your ear before his teeth sunk into your neck.

You were awoken by the feeling of a hand running through your hair. You smiled softly, leaning into the touch as your eyes slowly opened.

The scene you’d expected to wake to, of your boyfriend lovingly stroking your locks, vanished as you were met with the same bright blue eyes of the man from the boardwalk.

“Oh good you’re awake,” he smiled his terribly beautiful smile, the sight of it now making you sick.

You tensed and tried to pull away before realizing the blond man had your left wrist handcuffed to the bed.

“Just a precaution for now,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “when you can show me you can be a good girl for me, I’ll take it off.” He promised, almost gently.

You whimpered as you began to feel tears threatening to spill.

Paul softened, “no baby don’t cry,” he managed to gather you up in his arms, your cuffed hand hanging awkwardly from the bed as he cradled you.

“I’ll take such good care of you,” he promised, “I’ll spoil you, hold you, love you, whatever you want.” He buried his face into the nape of your neck and inhaled deeply. “I wanted to do this right, honest!” He told you, “but you’re so damn smart babydoll, you figured it all out so I just had to take ya.”

You sucked in a breath, fighting to hold back your tears as the blond man rambled desperately.

“It’s Paul by the way,” he tells you, “but you can call me anything you want sugar, whatever makes you happy,” I seductive smirk played on his lips, “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to call me daddy.”

You cringed.

“Not there yet? Ok baby” Paul’s grip on you tightened, you could feel his freezing skin pressed against every part of you.

Your heart rate raced at his touch and he sighed. “I promise I’m not gonna hurt you babydoll,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck once more. “I’ll be so sweet to you.”

“You bit me,” your quiet voice whimpered, “that hurt.” You reminded him.

Paul sighed, “I know sugar, I won’t ever bite you again…unless you want me to of course,” he promised, purring the last part into your ear.

You squeaked.

His hand moved to caress your cheek as he titled your gaze up to his. “I’ll be so good to you baby I promise. I’ll treat you like a princess.” His thumb rubbed against your cheek as his eyes softened with a boyish sweetness and adoration. “You’re so cute, and soft, and human.” He spoke almost absentmindedly, smiling as he touched you.“I’ll give you anything you want sugar, anything.” He whispered, his voice laced with desperation.

“You always looked so tired when you came home from work,” Paul continued, stroking your hair while he spoke. “Used to get so worried about bills…about everything. I can take care of you baby don’t you see? You’ll never have to worry about anything here, all you gotta worry ‘bout is lookin pretty f’me.” He kissed your cheek.

“Fuck, that shouldn’t be too hard for ya huh baby? You’re always so damn pretty for me,” his eyes clouded with hunger as he looked at you. “I’m gonna be so good to you babydoll” he repeated, his voice dripped with honey as he nipped at your neck.

You gasped at the sensation of him licking and sucking on your sensitive skin. The same sensation that had terrified you moments ago, now had you squirming with pleasure in Paul’s lap.

While you sunk into the feeling of his mouth on your skin, his hand found it’s way to the hem of your shirt. It snaked under to rub gentle circles on your stomach, sneaking higher with every caress.

You mewled in delight. Paul’s touch blew your boyfriend’s out of the water. To him, pleasure had been a game, to Paul, pleasure was an art.

You snapped back to reality when you felt Paul hardening against you in his lap.

Your eyes flew open as you remembered where you were, as you remembered the cuff around your wrist. This wasn’t right.

“W-wait,” you managed to whimper out, pushing his chest back as you did. “This is all a little much right now,” you said hesitantly, bracing yourself for Paul’s reaction.

His gaze softened, “course sugar, don’t wanna push ya.” He planted a chaste kiss on your lips before detangling himself from the bed and kneeling in front of you. “Do you want something to eat baby?” He asked, his pretty blue eyes full of adoration.

You nodded, blushing under his loving gaze.

“What do ya want sugar? I can get you anything,” He offered.

Your brow furrowed as you struggled to decide what you wanted.

Paul stopped you, “I’m sorry baby, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” He leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “I’ll pick for you, just relax ok? I can make all your choices for you sweetheart.”

With that, he flashed you a boyish grin and took off to get you something to eat.

Once he was gone, you leaned back against the bed frame and sighed. Your free hand moved to your neck, feeling around where Paul had bit and kissed you. Electricity coursed through you at the memory.

You looked around the little cave Paul had you in. The walls were plastered with posters of heavy metal bands and all around the room there were crates filled to the brim with records. A collection that must have taken decades to amass, you realized.

The room actually looked decently clean, you had thought. Until you’d looked a little harder and noticed clothes and leftover pizza boxes poking out from underneath the bed. You smiled to yourself, he’d tried.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized it might not be so bad to have such a devilishly handsome man so hopelessly devoted to you. Your job was exhausting, and you were always stressed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let someone take care of you, God knows your boyfriend…your ex boyfriend, never had.

And Paul had been so sweet, so gentle, so loving with you. You hated to admit it, but you’d loved the way he touched you. And you found yourself wondering how long it would be till he’d touch you again.

You bit your lip at the thought. How could something wrong, feel so right?

‘Maybe this isn’t so bad,’ you thought to yourself as Paul walked through the entrance to his room with an armful of Chinese takeout boxes.

So when he flashed you his signature bright smile, you allowed yourself to smile back.

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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

Text

Make You Wish Chapter Six -- Stolas

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Previous Part: Chapter Five -- The Conversation

Warnings: None for this chapter I don't think but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,568

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I promise I am working on getting requests out as quick as I can. Apologies for them taking a while, things have been super hectic recently and I am also massively depressed.

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Y/n thanked the imp guard who let her into the office gracefully as she entered the space. It was dark, all the curtains drawn to cover the windows. The small speck of light that escaped their grasps traversed the floor frantically, bringing Stolas into high relief. He was sitting at his desk, bent over it with his hands tangled in the feathers of his hair. He looked stressed and appeared not to have noticed Y/n's presence. She cleared her throat.

"You asked to see me?"

Stolas raised his head, turning to face her with wide, nearly unseeing eyes. Long ago such a look from such a demon would have sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. Now, she simply watched him. Things had changed, she had changed. The afterlife had finally hardened her.

"Yes." he got to his feet, walking over to her, "I wanted to- what are you wearing?"

Y/n rolled her eyes. The judgment and scrutiny thick on his tongue wasn't helped by his posh accent.

"Clothes?" she indignantly responded.

There wasn't a way for her to exist around the man who owned her soul that wasn't guarded, inside and out. She crossed her arms, tapping her foot slightly.

"My dear, you look lik-"

"Don't call me that." Y/n interrupted, "I've asked you before. I don't like it."

The name was an infringement of boundaries. It simulated closeness and before today drove the nails of loss further into the muscle of her heart. In a way, it still did. Alastor was back but, he had still gone and things were still different. Y/n couldn't quite get a read on him yet, his plans and ambitions, his purpose in returning and in finding her.

She felt like what he wanted was for things to go back to normal, to the way they had been. Y/n knew that was an impossible future for her and had the slight idea that it might be for him as well. To be perfectly honest, Y/n wasn't sure she even really wanted things to go back.

The dress had been nice and she had wished for Alastor to return many times over the years but she had also worked hard for her life. She had tried, put all her effort in, and she liked the person that had come out the other side. There was a fear in Alastor's return, a fear that with him back, all her hard work would be undone. That she would comfortably let herself slip back into the familiar, becoming nothing but his guest star once again. Still, she knew Alastor, knew he would always do what it took to get what he wanted regardless of how anyone else felt about it. It was the one truly consistent thing about him.

"My apologies." Stolas sighed, "I was simply taken aback by your appearance. You look like a human."

"I know." she hummed, unable to keep the slight smile, the slight hint of warmth from her voice.

Y/n was conflicted about Alastor but she was still happy he was back, overjoyed even. The conflict didn't stop those feelings from bubbling to the surface.

"It was a gift."

"A gift?" Stolas repeated, intrigued, "From whom?"

"It doesn't matter." Y/n shook her head, all semblance of a smile falling from her features, "Why did you ask me to come?"

"Always straight to business with you." he mused, "It wasn't Blitzo, was it? I know you two are close..."

There was an unvoiced fear in his question. Y/n couldn't quite trace it's origin. Stolas was always odd when it came to the imp in question however and so, she payed it no mind. There was enough going on without any added pressure or confusion concerning the man who owned her soul and her dear friend.

"No, it wasn't Blitzo. It was an old friend of mine."

"An old friend... it wouldn't happen to be the Radio Demon, would it?" Stolas asked in mild disgust at the thought, "I saw that little show he put on, treating poor Vox so distastefully, so no use trying to hide the fact that he has returned."

Stolas knew Y/n had been close with Alastor before his disappearance. At the beginning of their arrangement, he had been so set on them being friends and had quizzed Y/n about her life at every opportunity. Eventually, Y/n's lack of equal enthusiasm beat him into submission but Stolas still drew on what he did know when necessary.

"Stolas, it doesn't concern you." Y/n sighed, "You own my soul, not my social life."

There was a tense moment, a sharp, shared gaze. Stolas relented.

"You are correct. I just know how hurt you were the last time and men like him... Y/n, they don't change."

Unbidden anxiety snuck momentarily into Y/n's mind and she beat it back with a baseball bat. These were thoughts for later, to run her hands over when she was alone in her room. It didn't matter that he was giving voice to her deepest concerns and confusions, this was neither the time nor the place to address them.

"I figured things out, learned to fend for myself." she replied, working hard to keep her voice even and respectful, "I'll do it again need be."

Stolas was not a man of violence but he was one who had a great capacity for it. Y/n knew this, Y/n was always careful around him because of this. It wasn't like Alastor where camaraderie flowed easily between them, creating an even ground in place of a power imbalance. While Stolas could on occasion be kind, pleasant, even endearing in Y/n's gaze, she always knew exactly where they both stood when she was in his presence.

"I'm just worried about you."

"Why?"

She hadn't meant to ask it. All the pressure, the changes of the day had been building up inside her and begun to trickle over the edges. She needed to be alone.

Stolas seemed equally as taken aback by her question as Y/n had been in asking it. He struggled to speak, his mouth opening and shutting several times before he finally spoke. It was as if even he didn't know the answer.

"You work for me, I don't want you ending up useless."

It was out of character and inane, they both knew it. Y/n didn't press the matter any further, ready to leave and get on with her life. Ready to sleep and see if things were real when she woke up.

"So, what did you need me to do?"

Stolas cleared his throat, comfort and authority seeping back into his being. He was such a strange man, so powerful yet so unsure. Y/n never quite knew what to do with him.

"I need the book, my grimoire."

"It's not the full moon already, is it?"

That was the deal: IMP got to use the book except for when it was the full moon. Stolas shook his head.

"No, it isn't but there is a festival in the Wrath Ring I need to conduct a ceremony at. It is a yearly event."

"And you don't have it all memorized already?"

Stolas glared lightly at her.

"I am a busy man."

Y/n was on the verge of asking if moping in his office, alone in the dark was a part of this alleged busyness but stopped herself. It was a good impulse, the one in her that avoided conflict. She crossed her arms.

"Fine, I'll bring it to you. When do you need it by?"

"Tomorrow." as if struck by a sudden inspiration, Stolas' eyes lit up, "Why don't you all come with?"

"You mean IMP?"

"Yes! It could be a wonderful time. The festival is always so quaint and joyful, I think you would like it."

"Millie would probably be happy at that." Y/n mused, a finger to her chin in thought, "And Mox. They're from Wrath after all but... I can't travel between rings, Stolas, and our deal means you stay away from Blitzo."

Stolas shook his head, laughing slightly.

"That first issue is easy enough to fix."

"Is it?" Y/n looked up at him, her brow furrowed.

It was times like this he wished his life had panned out differently. Stolas saw a friend in the demon, a companion. Instead, she was essentially his slave. Stolas had never been good at people and Y/n was no different. The line between them was wobbly at best under his command.

"I am a Goetia." he reminded her, "There is not a lot that I can't do."

"Okay then, I just never... never thought the scope of your power would include something like that. I thought it all had to do with the human realm."

"And you are a human soul."

"I guess that makes sense." Y/n shrugged after a moment's thought, "But that still leaves Blitzo."

"I wont bother him, you have my word."

Y/n could see the flash of strife beneath his cool complexion as Stolas raised a hand in oath. He was obsessed with physical representations of the immaterial, Y/n knew. It was nearly charming.

"Fine."

"Fantastic, it really will be a wonderful time. Why don't you bring that old friend of yours along too!"

----

TAGS:

@luzzbuzz @fudosl @mfnqueen1

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auteurdelabre · 3 months

Text

So Much to Lose dark!Joel x f!Reader

rating: 18+

words: 4.6k

summary: After your explosive last patrol with Joel, you and Joel return to Teton Village.

tags: Enemies to EWB (enemies with benefits), slow burnish, oral (M receiving - no swallowing), Joel is emotionally stunted.

a/n: So strangely outta all my stories on the go, this one is the fic that plays in my head the most. I've written an outline, the final is already written out despite us havin' a bit of a ways to go to get these two seein' clearly. Reviews help me work, I don't get paid for this stuff, so if you wouldn't mind reviewing I'd really appreciate it!

masterlist here

Chapter 4 here

-------------------------

Chapter 5: You still want this?

Jennifer sees you walk into the dining hall a short while later and calls you over with an exaggerated wave. The group she’s sitting with wave at you also. All of them are like Jennifer; young and pretty and smiley.

They set you a bit on edge with their intrigued gazes when you approach with your tray, taking a seat next to a tall man with an easy smile.Jennifer introduces you to everyone before doing the same for you.

“This is Peter, his wife Margaret,” a brunette couple at the end of the table give waves before going back to their chatting. “On your left is Lee and the guy to your right is Luke.”

The tall man – Luke – gives you a small nod and shy smile. “Nice to meet'cha.”

“He’s new like you,” Jennifer explains. “Just moved here last month. He used to be in construction.”

“Oh wow,” you say trying to feign interest and failing. Luke chews his food and gives an awkward nod at you before he starts to speak across the table to Peter.

You want to be engaged with the faces around the table, but your mind is still with Joel in the stable. You still can’t believe you told him you wanted him to fuck your mouth. That you verbally agreed to it. He gave you an out and you still said yes! What the fuck is wrong with you?

The rest of the group chats around you and you don’t mind the chatter. It fills the space normally punctuated with silence that you’re used to and it momentarily distracts you from your dilemma. You find you much prefer conversations with Ellie though – she has more interesting things to say on the whole.

Jennifer is obviously the leader of this group, weaving tales and telling jokes that has the rest of the table (including you) chuckling. When the rest of her friends finish their breakfasts and bid the two of you a good day, she waits until you are both alone before fixing you with a smile.

“Isn’t Luke nice?”

“Mhmm.”

Jennifer loves to talk and doesn't seem to mind that you don't. She likes regaling you with stories about folks living in the town. She's been settled in Jackson almost as long as Maria and Tommy and subsequently she has seen quite a bit.

"The Butcher used to date the lady that sorted the incoming items," she tells you over her tea. "But then she fell in love with the guy who works in weaponry. It was really messy for a bit."

You listen with fascination at the social milieu of the community you now inhabit. Being in Jennifer's orbit also means that others are starting to take notice of you. More people wave and give you passing greetings. You can only shyly nod and give mumbled hello’s in return.

This morning a tall man with patchy eyebrows gives you and Jennifer a nod, tilting his cowboy hat in your direction as he saunters past your table.

"That's Greg," Jennifer says with a voice low in secrecy. "We dated for a few months a year or so ago. Super nice guy but very clingy."

You suppress a smirk at this, amused at Jennifer's disgusted expression. Dating seems like something from a lifetime ago, almost juvenile in concept.

"You date a lot?" Jennifer asks as she sips her tea. "Before the outbreak, I mean."

"Nah," you shake your head. "Dating scared the shit outta me. I was always a really shy kid."

"I could see that," Jennifer muses. "You don't really talk much."

You shrug, feeling strangely embarrassed, as if this quiet observation is somehow a scathing criticism of character.

"What about around here?" Jennifer asks with playful lilt to her voice. It's asked in such a way that reminds you of slumber parties with giggling and strawberry lip-gloss. "Anyone catch your eye?"

"Not really."

You know that you answer too quickly but you also know that Jennifer won't follow up on it if you change the subject to her favorite topic: herself.

"What about you?" You take a bite of toast before casting your eyes over the crowd. "Got a lot to folks to choose from."

Jennifer glances around the bustling dining hall before wrinkling her nose up, obviously unimpressed with her choices presented.

"I'm gonna stick with Joel Miller," she nods to herself. "All the other guys here kinda pale in comparison."

Joel Miller.

"Might have you work cut out for you," you murmur. "Seems like a lot of work just to get him to be civil."

"I like a challenge," Jennifer winks at you. "And since you two are partner’s maybe you can introduce me sometime?"

Oh yeah, that'll go over well. You wish she’d drop this whole Joel thing. But then again because of it she’s being kind to you, she’s taken an interest. She’s introducing you to people, she’s helping to chase away the loneliness. You’re both getting something out of this, so why not continue?

Then again, its Joel.

"I think you should pick someone easier," you offer. "Plus if you go with him you'll be a stepmom to Ellie."

"I don't think she needs a stepmom," Jennifer laughs.

Your brows furrow and you go to reply when the girl of the hour walks into the dining hall. She sees you and waves before she walks over grab a tray of food. Her ponytail bobs behind her as she collects her breakfast items.

"She's so sweet," Jennifer tuts with what sounds like adoration when she witnesses this. You hold in a frown, not liking the condescending way Jennifer says it. It’s very likely she doesn’t mean it that way, but something about it irks you.

You watch Ellie saunter up to the end of your table, casting a look in your direction. You try to ignore her, remembering what Joel said you to earlier. He doesn’t want you interacting with Ellie, answering her questions.

He all but said you weren’t an influence he wants on his daughter. But it feels wrong to ignore her, wrong to pretend she isn’t standing beside you looking at you with beseeching eyes.

"Hi Ellie," Jennifer chirps as the girl stands awkwardly at the end of the table, looking at you. "Join us?"

Ellie shoots you a look that you can't quite read. You raise your eyes to hers and see the insecurity there and it breaks your heart. There’s no way you can turn her away. You motion to the table with your head that the invitation is indeed valid and she gives you a tight, relieved smile.

Ellie takes a seat next to you, tray clattering. You don’t miss the two milks on her tray and you hold in a smirk. Ellie begins to dig into her eggs and Jennifer is all warm smiles and sweet words for the sleepy teen.

"I heard that you're working on your baking," Jennifer offers abruptly, surprising both of you. You turn to look at Ellie, brow raised.

“You are?”

"Who told you that?" Ellie snaps, irritation laced in every letter. Her dark eyes are narrowed in obvious distaste for the blonde seated across from you.

"Oh uh, Rita in the kitchen mentioned it," Jennifer says with an uneasy laugh, eyes darting to you and then back to Ellie.

You think about Joel not wanting you to interfere, but this is something you know about. Baking is something you can actually bond with her about without making her long for the past.

"I didn't know you liked baking," you tell her. "If you want I can ask some of the-"

"Can we just drop it, please?" Ellie asks, cheeks burning. It's clearly something she didn't want other people knowing and you wince. You know the feeling of wanting something private for yourself.

"Of course," you nod.

The table lapses into a tense silence with Jennifer trying to smile at Ellie and the girl trying to look everywhere but at Jennifer. Ellie stabs a bit of sausage with her fork, the action almost violent. She’s tired and her hair is knotted in her ponytail. You wish you had a brush you could run through her thick tresses. Once a big sister, always a big sister you suppose.

"How's Joel?" Jennifer asks lightly, as if the answer isn't really a big deal. You want to roll your eyes at her lack of subtlety but Ellie beats you to it.

"S'fine."

Jennifer looks at you, silently begging for help, but you leave your eyes on your plate. If Jennifer wants to pursue this whole Joel thing she’ll do so without your help. While you’ll let her rope you into talking to Joel, there’s no way you’re going to bug Ellie about this.

"Doesn't he usually have meals with you?"

"Not breakfast usually," Ellie offers with a bored look on her face. "Only sometimes."

She remains tight-lipped for the rest of breakfast, sitting sullenly next to you as she eats. This cloudy disposition exits only when Jennifer announces she has plans with her friends and bids you both a farewell.

"She's such a phony," Ellie cites as the woman leaves the dining hall. "She doesn't give a shit about me. She just wants to know about Joel it’s so fucking obvious."

"I'm sure that's not true," you say without feeling. You feel a twist of guilt in your gut. Jennifer is nice to you and yeah, she’s a bit of an annoyance, but you don’t think she’s particularly harmful.

However as soon as the words leave your mouth Ellie stands abruptly, bristling. You give her a confused look.

"I told you I don't like liars."

She leaves her tray next to you, looking disgusted as she marches out of the hall, sure to go in the opposite direction of Jennifer.

///

The ride to Teton village that afternoon is a tense one punctuated by the occasional whinny from Midnight and Chestnut. You and Joel haven't spoken since your patrol shift started, not even a hello when you both mounted your horses.

Now you ride behind him a few paces, body bobbing along with Chestnut who seems to be reinvigorated after his re-shoeing.

The sky is a bright grey today, the chill of the weather deep in your bones. You're thankful for the warm clothes you've put on, including the red scarf hidden deep in the depths of your jacket. You know how much Joel hates it.

Your eyes drift to your patrol partner and his broad shoulders holding a backpack and gun.

You still want that mouth fucked dumb?

Your admission to Joel earlier makes your heart continue to thrum well after you've been riding for hours. Every turn of his head that showcases his severe profile sets your stomach jumping.

You wonder if he's going to say something about it. If he's going to jeer at you or worse, guide you both off to the side of the road and insist you suck him right there.

But he doesn't make any move to do so. He just continues on ahead of you atop of Midnight like some modern cowboy in a winter jacket.

How did Ellie get through to him?

This sticks out in your mind. Ellie is abrasive and loud and seems to be everything Joel would despise in another person. And yet, the brief times you’ve seen a look of tenderness he shares with her is something so loving it makes your heart crack. He’s her father in everything but blood. His daughter is gone. Is that why? Was there a daughter-sized hole in Joel desperate to be filled and Ellie fit the bill? The thought humanizes him in your eyes.

By the time you reach the village you almost pity Joel. A man who lost a daughter, desperate to take care of another living being. You wonder if there is a wife-shaped hole missing in him too. Would Jennifer fit that bill? Would he be happy if that empty spot was taken up by a beautiful blonde woman? If so a part of you wants to help.

You tie up your horses and Joel watches you unlock the door. He doesn't comment when your fingers tremble clumsily to punch in the code. He doesn't jeer when you stumble in over the floorboards. You watch him saunter ahead of you with the Thermos and your lunches and you observe him not as Joel Miller, asshole. You work to seperate his body from his person. He's a man, a strangely beautiful one in his ferocity and broad frame.

His body is graceful despite its bulk and your eyes rove the planes of his form as he makes his way ahead of you, bag and gun still draped over his shoulders. Is he attractive? Maybe. He isn’t hideous to you. But attractive is a hard thing to measure when you don’t really enjoy the person.

Joel disappears with his bag upstairs muttering that he'll be back and you go to the small back room to sign your names in the log. You feel confident doing it now, your fingers not trembling when you hold the pencil. You glance around the small room, looking at the boxes at the side. You pull them out, curious. Inside one are a few blankets. Inside the other are two pairs of boots. Another box yields a gun and a box of bullets.

Back up items you think, in case something happens.

Joel is still working away upstairs and so you take the opportunity to explore a bit of the old building, walking aimlessly from room to room. You walk into the room with the old couch covered in one of the blankets you recognize from Jackson City. It faces an ancient looking fireplace that holds dried wood and shavings to start a fire. This surprises you considering they don’t want attention drawn to the building.

You wander into the ancient bathroom that hasn't had running water for months, glancing at the shower free of mildew and the toilet that you don’t dare lift the lid off of. You make your way through the variety of other empty rooms, looking at portraits hung on the walls before you hear Joel's heavy boots coming back down the steps to your level.

You watch him return and wordlessly follow him to that small room in the back so he can glance over your log notes with an unreadable expression before pulling out the Thermos and bag of food from his backpack.

Lunch is consumed with you sitting across from one another at the warped table, noting that a quiet Joel is just as intimidating as a speaking one.

Your mind drifts to the window upstairs. The one that was broken last time. It's quiet which means that is what Joel must have been working on it earlier.

"Did you fix the window?"

"Patched it. When the right supplies come in we'll repair it properly." Joel bites into his sandwich, swallowing quickly. You wonder if he's always eaten this quickly or he's trying to speed things up.

"I don't know much about repair-"

"You won't be doing anything," Joel cuts in without looking at you. "I'll come out on a different day with a few others."

"Oh. Okay."

You lapse into silence again. Joel is a loud chewer you notice; another thing to add to the growing tally of ways he annoys you when he's not intimidating the hell out of you. You shrug off your jacket, finding it strangely warm in the small room.

You finish your lunch quickly, anxious about whether this is going to happen. Will Joel fuck your mouth? Will he make you ask for it? You don’t think you could even if you wanted. The thought is too intimidating.

As if reading your mind Joel wipes his crumby fingers along his jeans before clearing his throat. He sits facing you and you watch as his legs slowly widen.

That's when you realize it's going to follow the same pattern. In the same room and at his leisure. And despite the fact that you can't stand Joel and despite the fact that this is patrols, you feel your core tighten. He moves his tongue to his cheek, staring at you for so long you visibly falter, eyes dropping to your hands.

"You still want this?"

He says it so quietly you're not sure he said anything at all and it takes you a moment to understand what he's referencing. But then you know your answer, you know from the telltale pull below your navel and the way your nipples tighten under your sweater.

You lose your voice and find you can only nod shallowly. When you glance up after a beat to see Joel frown at your lack of a verbal response you sit up a little straighter in your chair.

"Yes."

Joel nods slowly, sucking at his teeth as he stares at you. Your thumb digs into the cuticle of your ring finger nervously.

No, not nervously; anticipatory.

You feel arousal begin to pool in your lower belly and you are made absurdly aware that you want this, that you want him. Not outside these stolen moments when he feels like the most frustrating person you know. Just when he promises a release from the loud world and its horrors.

"Gonna listen?”

His voice is firm, but hushed. You glance up the length of his body slowly, taking in the tapered waist and the long neck before and your eyes lock briefly before his. He holds his eyes on you before they flit to your shoulder. You finally nod, voice cracked.

"Yes."

He nods before surprising you by standing. He tilts his head, a silent follow me signal and you do as he walks out the door and into the room with the couch and fireplace. He leads you to the old sofa, the one that's been stripped of its fabric and left with what looks like a poorly tufted blanket over top. Likely an addition by one of the patrols but you can't understand why.

Joel eases onto it and it creaks as he settles himself. The air is gone from the room, leaving you breathless as you watch Joel unbuckle and then unbutton his jeans. You hold your breath as the zipper is pulled down and you see the flash of Joel's dark boxers underneath.

He beckons you closer with nothing more than his middle and pointer finger curling into his palm and you shuffle closer, approaching him slowly and warily as if he were a wounded animal.

And then it's like last time, only instead of angry, Joel just looks passive. As if this is something he did with all his former patrol partners.

Who knows, maybe he did.

You’re still wearing your red scarf and he takes it in his left fist before he tugs it gently, pulling you towards him. You stumble into the vee of his parted legs, looking down at him and swallowing. Despite the fact that you’re standing, you feel completely at his mercy.

He tilts his head, regarding you silently before he drops his hand from your scarf.

"On your knees," he says sibilant.

You sink to the floor between his legs without question. You don't hesitate. You hit your knees quickly, not caring that the floor is cold through the denim of your jeans. You don’t care if your eagerness is obvious.

Your hands tremble in equal measure anticipation and fear as they reach for Joel's boxers. As you did last time you pull him through the slit at the front, keeping the base of his cock still partially hidden. He seems to prefer that, letting you only see glimpses of him. You think you prefer that too. Still you feel your eyes widen a fraction at actually seeing his hard cock up close in your home. You'd only felt it that night on patrols.

“Stroke.”

You move your hand forward cautiously, waiting for your fingers to curl around his hard shaft. It twitches when you touch it. He raises an eyebrow slowly, his head tilting as his eyes move down to where you stroke him. He watches your hand move there, his tongue coming to drag over his lower lip. It glistens.

You swallow nervously, eyes on his cock as you tilt forward. You let yourself observe the bead of pre-come at the tip, the stiffness of his length. Without thinking you dip your face forward and run your lips from the base of his cock, grazing them to the tip. You’re rewarded with a quiet hiss from Joel.

“Lick.”

You do. Soft little kitten licks along the head tasting the salt of his pre-come. Joel breathes sharply through his nose at the sensation and when your eyes flick up they find his intensely staring down at you. A shiver goes through your body at the heavy desire reflected back to you. It emboldens you.

You don’t even wait for him to tell you to suck. Your parted mouth simply dips forward and circles the rosy head immediately. It stretches your lips, straining to take him. He's heavy on your tongue, thick in your mouth. You'd expected him to be rough, to thrust himself to the hilt but he's still. He's so still you're not sure he's okay with it.

With your mouth still full of him your eyes travel up his body to his face, brows raised in question. His face gives nothing away and you still, preparing to pull off of him when one large hand comes to the top of your head stopping you. He seems momentarily thrown, mouth curving into a frown. His hand goes to your neck and you wince in surprise when he unravels the red scarf from your neck.

"Close your eyes."

You do, letting them flutter shut. You don't say anything when he folds the scarf in half lengthwise before tying it around your eyes, securing it snugly at the back of your head. Your mouth is still stuffed with his cock, stretching your mouth almost painfully as you wait for him to knotting it at the back of your head.

If you opened your eyes you would see nothing but a murky red. As it is you see only the inside of your eyelids. You can smell the scent of sweat and soap and coffee. You feel disorientated kneeling there on the cold wood floor and you want to grip his thighs for purchase but don’t dare.

His heavy hand is still resting on the crown of your head and now you feel it slowly urging your mouth to take more of him. You hear Joel’s steady breathing.

"Keep goin’," Joel whispers and judging by the direction of his voice you think he must be looking down at you.

He pulls out slowly, his breath ragged.

"You want more?"

His cock is dragging along your bottom lip and you can imagine it glossy and reddened. He urges it onto your waiting tongue before slipping out again, teasing you. He doesn’t wait for you to answer before responding on your behalf.

“Yeah, you want more,” he says sliding his cock back, the head hitting the back of your throat.

You begin to suck him with vigor, bobbing your head along his length with gusto. You're rewarded with the low murmuring groan from him. You begin humming gently around him, .

It feels good, it feels so fucking good to have this again. To feel a cock in your mouth, to hear a man groaning above you as you take him deeper into your throat. He begins to thrust now, trusting that you can take him. His movements are quick, his hips jerking.

Your saliva coats him, his pelvis quickly inching towards you and then away, back and forth as he saws his cock between your lips.

It could be anyone, you tell yourself. You've just missed this so much. This connection, this lust, this palpable heat that makes Joel snap his hips and makes you respond in kind, tilting back and taking him until your nose brushes the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. He smells amazing, musky and masculine.

"Christ," he murmurs, eyes closing. "S'good."

You feel saliva begin to drool out the corners of your mouth as he thrusts more rapidly into you, hand still on the crown of your head.

"Yeah that's right," he says in a husky drawl. "That's fucking right."

You wonder how you look right now. Not in a performative way, but you wonder if you look in command of yourself. Like you're not secretly terrified. Or do you look scared? Maybe Joel likes that. You hope not.

You moan as he slides deeper into your throat. At the sound Joel withdraws, letting himself rest heavily on your tongue. His hips shift and he bobs his cock along your tongue, like an engine being primed.

"You like that," Joel says, slipping in and out between your lips. "Like me fucking your pretty mouth."

Never a question, always a statement. He's talking to hear himself talk, not because he actually wants to know if you like it. You continue to bob your head along his cock, your mind going blissfully blank.

"Gonna come," he suddenly announces from above you.

You moan approvingly, his length aching in your mouth as you slide the tip of your tongue to flick at the head of his cock, your mouth stretched full. You know this part, you anticipate this part. The rapid unravelling, you only wish your eyes weren’t covered. Watching Joel unravel on your tongue would be interesting.

"Gonna come," he grunts at you again, harsher this time.

When you continue sucking, his wide palm comes to press against your forehead, pushing you back harshly.

You pop off of him, falling back onto your elbows. You give a yelp before pushing up your blindfold and looking up at him in confusion. You've never had a man pull out, always tasted them salty and sharp over your tongue.

But Joel's eyes are closed and his wide hands are gripping his thickness, curving around the head, stroking furiously and it's only seconds before he lurches forward and comes with a ragged gasp in great warm ropes that spill over his knuckles and onto the wood floor.

You watch the steady dripping, the silent admission that Joel would rather his spend go there, onto the wood floor, because it's more deserving than your mouth.

Useless.

“I….” Joel croaks before licking his dried lips. His cheeks and neck are flushed with red. "I didn't know if you'd want it.”

“Oh.”

“Thought you were doing it ‘cuz you thought you had to."

"Oh."

You wish you could offer more than that. But you’re still in shock, still laying there on your back, propped up by your elbows in some strange tableau of relaxation.

His breathing starts to regulate before he stands abruptly. You look away, saying nothing as he moves to the washroom with the water canteen from his bag. You imagine he’s washing his hands the best he can.

You take a moment to stand, legs shaky and jaw sore. It’s been a while since you did that. And your surprised at how much you enjoyed it, considering the person the cock was attached to. When he exits moments later he’s tucked away and he tells you quietly that it’s time to head back.

Wordlessly you both gather your belongings and Joel locks up the place behind you both. You feel strangely unsettled, not because of what happened but because of how it ended. You feel somehow cheated.

You reach your tethered horses at the same time. You work on untying Chestnut, feeling Joel’s eyes on you as he does the same for Midnight.

"You like sucking cock?"

His voice is so nonchalant you could be talking about taxes or the weather.

"Sometimes," you say as you shrug. Your cheeks burn, despite the cool air.

The two of you mount your horses and head back. It’s not until a half hour has passed that you finally find the words you’d wanted to say earlier.

“I like it,” you say, face burning as you stroke Chestnut’s mane absently while you trot behind Joel and Midnight. “Uh, finishing in my mouth. I like that.”

Joel turns his head slightly until you can see his strong profile silhouetted in the setting sun. He gives you a half nod.

“Alright then.”

You say nothing more the rest of the ride back to Jackson City. Your horses take you back home, the path trod so many times before. Joel and you make no attempt at speaking more about your time, it seems pertinent it remain unspoken.

The secret stays in Teton village.

-----------------------------------------

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#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #dad joel miller #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel

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tigertales9 · 1 year

Text

Weathering the Storm

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: This fic takes place last off-season in mid-April 2022 (about 2 months after the Super Bowl loss to the Rams).

A/N: This fic has been 99% done for several months, but I keep tweaking it to pieces. I'm still not super happy with it, but I've decided to go ahead and post it. It's a bit of a sex fest. Full disclosure: I actually edited out some of the sex and it's still a sex fest.

---------

You smile at Joe as he strides ahead to open the restaurant door for you. "Thanks," you say, your smile intensifying when he gives you a playful wink. It's good to see him happy, you think to yourself, following him into the dimly-lit building.

It'd been about two months since the Super Bowl and Joe was back to his usual self. The disappointment of losing the big game had morphed into a single-minded focus on improving and coming back better than ever. You had no doubt he was going to unleash hell on the league next season.

"Y'all can sit anywhere," the hostess hollers from across the mostly-empty dining room. "A waitress will be right with you."

You follow Joe to a table in the far corner and sit in the chair he pulls out for you. "We beat the dinner rush," you muse, giggling when Joe heaves an exaggerated sigh of relief.

That was the entire reason y'all drove to a small bar & grill just over the state line on a week-day afternoon. Joe didn't want any attention; he just wanted to eat in peace without it turning into a production. Y'all had also really enjoyed the leisurely drive on this warmer-than-usual April day. Winding around back roads with the windows down and the sights and smells of spring in the air felt like a mini vacation. Him sliding his big hand under the hem of your dress to rest on your bare thigh was the icing on the cake.

A few minutes after you sit down, your waitress arrives at the table with a couple of menus. "We know what we want," Joe says, softening his abrupt words with a big smile while waving off the menus. She blushes and drops her pen on the floor, quickly leaning down to grab it while muttering an apology. Joe widens his eyes at you for a second before she stands back up. You give her a smile and place the order y'all had decided on when looking at their online menu. She scribbles it down, grins at you then hurries away without looking back in Joe's direction.

You shake your head at Joe. "You can't just whip that thang out on unsuspecting people."

"What thang?"

"That panty-dropping smile. You gotta ease folks into it; build up a little tolerance before you hit 'em with it full force."

"It's just a smile," he mumbles, grinning when you narrow your eyes at him. "And the Mona Lisa is just a painting," you counter.

You're still smiling at each other when a waiter walks up carrying two frosty longneck beers; he drops coasters on the table and sets the bottles down, his gaze darting between you and Joe a few times before he takes a deep breath. "I'm a big fan," he mutters, a blush rising in his pale cheeks as he makes this admission. "You got screwed in the Super Bowl," he continues, locking his gaze on Joe and furrowing his brow. "That late holding call was bullshit!"

Joe smiles and nods his head. "Always good to meet a fan," he says, taking a quick sip of his beer while the waiter fidgets. The waiter blushes even more crimson before continuing. "You're gonna win plenty of Super Bowls, though, so don't sweat it. Everybody who knows ball knows you're the truth."

Joe gives him a dazzling smile. "Thanks man, 'preciate it. What's your name?"

"Ca…Caleb," he stammers, eyes going comically wide as Joe holds a hand out to shake his. "Nice to meet you, Caleb," Joe says, giving a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you, too," Caleb whispers, backing away slowly before turning to jog toward the kitchen; he turns back around and points a finger at Joe. "Best QB in the league!" he yells, almost tripping over his feet before catching himself.

Once Caleb disappears, Joe glances around to make sure no one is ogling him. "Thank God this place is mostly empty," he mumbles, giving you a wry grin. You take a long swallow of your beer and give him a wink. "You're 2 for 2," you chuckle. "You need to register that smile as a deadly weapon."

"Hush," he mutters, his eyebrows creeping toward his hairline when you slowly slide your tongue around the rim of your beer bottle before taking a sip. His heated gaze is still locked on yours when there's a commotion at the back door of the restaurant; the door slings open and two men walk in from the outdoor deck, both of them cackling and snorting like a couple of wild animals before one stops dead in his tracks and points directly at you.

"Hot Damn!" he hollers, his bloodshot eyes going wide as a gust of wind from the open door blows your skirt higher up your thighs; you grab your skirt before anyone gets a glimpse of panties and firmly tuck it under your legs. "C'mon, sweetie, don't be shy," the drunk croons, taking a step toward your table before Joe stands up and turns to face him. "Oh shit, nevermind!" drunky yelps, retreating to the bar on the far wall across from your table, his friend close behind him.

Your pulse rate is going crazy when Joe calmly sits back down and takes a sip of his beer. "You wanna leave?" you whisper, throwing a quick glance at the rowdy drunks.

"Nah -- if they keep acting up I'll just beat the shit out of both of 'em."

"And go to jail for assault and battery?" you snap.

"Not if they throw the first punch," he grins, the twinkle in his eye looking scarily like anticipation.

"Joseph Lee," you grit out, your eyes narrowing in warning. "Don't you dare get into it with those assholes."

"Relax, babe," he soothes. "I promise I won't start anything."

You're still pondering if you should leave when your waitress walks up and sets your food down. "Thanks," you say, managing a smile even though your nerves are completely frazzled. "You're welcome," she says. "Just holler if you need anything else."

Before you can take a bite of food, you hear a loud whistle and turn your head to see the two drunks leering at you. "I might have to bust some heads if those assholes don't stop staring at you," Joe grumbles, shooting a death glare at them.

"Hol' up!" one of them yells. "Is that the pretty boy who just lost the Super Bowl?" They both squint at Joe, trying to get their alcohol-blurred eyesight to focus. "Sure is," his buddy finally chimes in, both of them guffawing and chanting "loser" until the bartender slams a hand on the bar in front of them. "Y'all can either shut up or leave," the bartender snaps.

You slowly turn your head and make eye contact with Joe; he takes a huge bite of his burger, his easy, breezy, greasy-lipped smile setting off alarm bells in the back of your mind. He's itching to beat the shit outta those guys, you think to yourself, taking a dainty bite of your burger while keeping a close eye on the drunks out of the corner of your eye. Joe gives you a wicked grin as he shoves a handful of french fries in his mouth before offering you one. You lean forward and let him feed it to you, giving his salty index finger a quick suck to try and redirect all of that pent-up energy. His eyes flash with lust and you give him a naughty grin. Mission accomplished, you think to yourself. "You keep looking at me like that and we'll have to get a to-go box," he mutters, taking another bite of his burger. You give him an innocent look before reaching for another french fry.

Y'all make small talk for the next 20 minutes while he eats all of his burger and half of yours. Just as he's polishing off the last of the fries, you hear more snorts and cackles coming from the drunks at the bar.

"Baby-faced pretty boy don't look like he knows how to please a woman," drunk #1 says loudly. "She must be with him for the money." They both laugh like hell before the bartender snaps at them. "That's it! Get out!"

"Relax," drunk #2 chimes in, giving the bartender a shit-eating grin. "We're just pointing out that he ain't man enough for her. She needs a real man. I mean, look at her!"

Joe's chiseled nostrils flare as he methodically wipes his big hands on his napkin. "Fuck … this," he snarls, pushing his chair back to stand up. "No baby, they're not worth it," you plead, your pulse rate kicking into overdrive as he walks toward the drunks, his long legs quickly closing the distance. The bartender, now joined by the manager, struggle to herd the drunks toward the exit before one of the drunks turns and sees a mad-as-hell Joe bearing down on them. "Oh shit! Run!" he yells, both of them falling all over the place trying to hit the door before Joe catches up to them.

Once they're gone, Joe and the manager have a conversation while you try to take deep breaths and calm your racing pulse. You absentmindedly run a hand through the condensation on your beer bottle as you watch Joe shrug his broad shoulders and shift his weight from one foot to the other. Wonder what they're talking about, you think to yourself, letting your mind wander a bit now that the threat is gone.

You're actually a little surprised by Joe's intense reaction to the leering drunks. He could get a little jealous sometimes but it was never anything too serious, usually just him getting annoyed at guys overtly ogling you or being flirty. He almost always let it go with just a warning look at the offenders because he knew you were going home with him. He was alpha to the bone but without the toxic masculinity that often came with it.

Joe's deep, throaty laugh pulls your attention back to him just as he turns around and strides back to your table. "Manager wants to comp our meal so he refused to take my credit card," Joe grumbles, reaching into the pocket of his gray jeans. He pulls out an old-school money clip and peels a couple hundred dollar bills off before dropping them on the table. "He can't refuse this," he gloats, giving you a smug look while dropping into his chair. You shake your head but keep your mouth shut. You'd warned him about carrying so much cash but he shrugged you off. The conversation went something like this:

"You shouldn't carry so much cash. Several hundred is fine but several thousand is asking for trouble; just use your credit card."

"You never know when something might blow out the power grid and credit cards will be useless."

You rolled your eyes. "What's gonna blow out the power grid?"

"Solar flare, World War 3, alien invasion," Joe shrugged. "You never know."

Joe loudly clearing his throat pulls you back into the moment. You take in his told-you-so smirk for a bit, trying to decide whether or not to remind him that you said carrying several hundred in cash is perfectly fine, so this is not a 'told-you-so' situation. One look at his body language and you decide to bite your tongue. No need to poke the hornet's nest, you think to yourself before grabbing your beer bottle and chugging the last few swallows, feeling his eyes on your throat as you slowly gulp the remaining beverage. When you're done, you set the bottle down and lock eyes with him. His cocky smirk is long gone.

He quickly stands up and gestures for you to do the same. "Let's go," he orders, placing a hand on the small of your back as y'all walk out the door and into the parking lot. The heat from his large hand easily penetrates your slinky shirtdress and you bite your bottom lip as a steady throb of arousal ignites deep inside you. He opens the car door for you, eyes glued to your bare legs as you get settled in the seat. "You okay, babe?" you ask as he slides in the car and starts the engine. "Fine," he mutters, flashing you a quick grin that more closely resembles the lovechild of a snarl and a grimace. Great, you think to yourself. Gonna be an interesting night.

You look out the car window as dusk settles in and the streetlights slide by in intermittent flashes; you note that he's taking the direct route home. No more lazy back roads, you think with a bit of regret, your attitude shifting when he cranks the music and settles a hand on your thigh. You turn your head to look at him, enthralled by his ridiculously sexy profile. You can tell by the look on his face that he's still pissed off. Luckily he isn't the kind of guy who takes his frustrations out by driving aggressively but his body language is big mad.

"You sure you're okay?" you whisper. "I said I'm fine," he mutters, removing his hand from your thigh just long enough to turn the music up a bit more. He slides his hand back under your skirt, teasing the elastic edge of your panties with his limber fingers. You wiggle your hips a bit trying to get closer to his fingers, but he never gives you more than a quick caress over the top of your flimsy lace thong. You shoot him a couple of glances trying to read his mood but the gathering dark makes it hard to read his expression.

You're wet as hell and a little annoyed when he finally whips the car into y'all's driveway. Just before the car rolls into the garage, you notice storm clouds forming on the horizon and realize it's going to be a stormy night in more ways than one. The second he pulls into the garage he quickly kills the engine and hops out, jogging around to open the door for you. You give him a bland smile as you swing your legs out and stand up. "Thanks," you whisper. "Sure," he mutters, ushering you in the house before you can say anything else.

As y'all enter the house he heads directly to the kitchen, grabbing a glass out of a cabinet before slinging the freezer open to get the vodka. He splashes some of the ice-cold alcohol in the glass and takes a hearty gulp, leveling a loaded look at you as you close the distance between you.

"That's not what you need," you say, nodding at the vodka bottle. He raises the glass to his mouth again and locks eyes with you over the rim; he pauses for a second then takes a long, slow sip, finishing it off by loudly sucking on his bottom lip in a way that sends a sizzle of electricity straight to your clit. "You got any better ideas?" he purrs, giving you a dirty wink before pushing away from the counter to stalk around the room like a caged tiger.

Ohhh, he knows exactly what he's doing, you think to yourself. Two can play that game. You watch him pace back and forth for a minute, a tiny smile gracing your lips as a naughty idea forms in your mind. He needs to work this aggression out, you think to yourself, and I know just the way to set it off. You feel a little thrill of anticipation as you think of what you're about to unleash.

"Those guys at the bar really pissed you off but I can't understand why," you muse. "I know it wasn't the stuff they said about losing the Super Bowl. You're just getting started in the NFL, and we both know you're gonna fucking run it one of these days. So what was it?" He stops pacing and narrows his eyes at you. "I didn't enjoy them eye-fucking you!" he snaps.

"I don't think that's it," you shake your head. "That happens all the time, to both of us. That's the price of admission when you're with a baddie." He gives you a tight smile as you continue. "What really pissed you off?" you repeat, holding eye contact with him while slowly unbuttoning your shirtdress. He shrugs his broad shoulders while avidly watching you. "I don't know," he finally answers.

"I think you do know. You just have to be man enough to admit it."

His eyebrows shoot toward the ceiling. "You don't think I'm man enough?" he sputters. "You sound just like those assholes at the bar!"

"That's not what I said."

"Sure as hell sounded like it!"

"Then you're not listening."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Why don't you explain it to me," he orders, eyes glued to the cleavage exposed by your partially-open dress.

"I think you felt challenged when they said you're not man enough for me. But why did that make you mad when you know it's not true? You do know that, right?" you ask, holding his gaze as you push the dress off of your shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He watches closely as you bend over and pick the dress up, tossing it onto a barstool.

"Look." He runs his fingers through his hair and hits you with a penetrating glare. "I'm having a hard time following this conversation since you're mostly naked. Are you questioning if I'm man enough for you?"

"No, I think you're questioning it. I think that's why you're so pissed." You reach behind your back and unhook your bra, letting it slowly slide down your arms before tossing it on the barstool. "But if you're worried about it you can just … prove it."

His hot gaze rests on your ample breasts for what seems like ages before he finally meets your eyes. "You better stop playin'," he warns, narrowing his eyes as you slide your panties off and toss them on top of your bra.

"Oh, I'm just getting started," you tease. You give him a filthy grin before spinning around and sashaying toward the stairs wearing nothing but your high heels. You sling your long hair over your shoulder and add an extra swish to your hips, knowing Joe's eyes will be drawn to your perky butt and toned legs. "You coming?" you ask, throwing him a look over your shoulder. You're almost at the top of the stairs when you hear him pounding up the stairs behind you; it takes everything you have not to run like hell but you know he won't hurt you, not unless you beg him to.

As you walk into the master bedroom you hear the rain start hitting the roof, lightly at first then with growing intensity. You come to an abrupt halt when a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky, the intense flash easily penetrating your gauzy window shades to light up the entire bedroom for several seconds. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding as Joe walks up behind you and settles his big hands on your waist. You can feel the heat radiating off of him and a shiver of pleasure runs through you when he presses a kiss on your shoulder. You turn to face him, his heated gaze causing a visceral response deep inside you.

Before you have a chance to speak, a loud clap of thunder rattles the windows causing you to jump and let out a squeal. Once you regain your composure you take in Joe's stoic expression. Of course he didn't jump, you think wryly, he didn't even blink. You search his face for a minute before speaking. "What are you thinking?" you whisper. He stares at you for what seems like ages before finally answering. "What do you need me to prove?" he asks, voice husky with desire tinged with anger. You shake your head no. "I don't need you to prove anything. This is about you not me."

He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly before dropping to his knees at your feet, his gaze holding yours as he leans forward until his mouth is almost touching your crotch. You feel his breath on your most sensitive skin, and you're sure he's going to taste you but instead he flashes you a knowing smirk before looking down at your feet. "Let's lose these," he murmurs, his agile fingers easily unfastening the ankle straps on your heels. You hold onto his shoulders as you step out of the shoes. "Thanks," you whisper, watching closely as he stands back up and pulls his t-shirt off, dropping it on top of your shoes.

He quickly strips down to nothing but his low-rise boxer briefs before burying one hand in your hair, pulling hard enough for you to hiss at the sting as you lean your head to the side, exposing your slender neck. He eases the pressure on your hair before dropping a trail of kisses and love bites from your collarbone up to the sensitive spot behind your ear; a shiver runs through you as your nipples harden against his muscular torso. He nips your earlobe with his teeth and you feel a gush of wetness between your thighs as he slides his hands down your back and cups your ass, giving a gentle squeeze before picking you up; you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his neck. "So wet," he groans, moving you up and down his barely-there treasure trail, his arm muscles flexing with each motion. You bite your bottom lip as your eyes flutter closed at the delicious sensation.

After teasing you for a bit, he abruptly stops. "Look at me," he orders. You remove your face from his fragrant neck and lock eyes with him. "You think you'd get this wet for those assholes at the bar?" he asks. "God no!" you make a disgusted face. "I'd never get this wet for anyone but you. You know that." He searches your expression for a minute without speaking. Before you can fill the silence, another loud clap of thunder causes you to flinch. "The storm's close," you whisper, glancing at the windows as a lightning strike sizzles across the sky. "Real close," he mutters, giving you a tight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

He walks to the side of the bed and sets you down before dropping to his knees on the floor between your legs; he plants his hands on your thighs and spreads you obscenely wide, licking his lips while leaning in.

"I need to tell you something," you say abruptly, stopping his forward progress.

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

He reluctantly drags his gaze from your crotch to your face. "Okay."

"I … kind of manipulated you earlier and now I feel bad about it."

He furrows his brow. "What do you mean?"

You chew on your bottom lip for a bit before coming clean. "I knew you were mad as hell and needed to work through it without getting shitfaced on vodka." You shrug. "I goaded you with that 'prove it' shit, but it backfired."

He studies your expression for several seconds before speaking. "How did it backfire?"

"I thought you'd chase me up the stairs, toss me on the bed and fuck me through the mattress, and then we'd both feel better. Instead you got all calm and quiet and I'm afraid you're mad at me, and I'm also afraid you actually think you're not man enough for me which is total bullshit and . . ."

"Babe," he interrupts your breathless rambling. "I'm not mad at you."

"Really? Even though I tried to manipulate you?"

His lips curl up in a genuine smile. "You had good intentions." You breathe a sigh of relief and return his smile. "Plus you were right," he continues. "It pissed me off when that dickhead said you need a real man." Joe's jaw clenches with anger as he relives the memory. "He's lucky I didn't knock his fucking teeth down his throat."

"Forget those assholes," you soothe, leaning forward to press a kiss on his lips. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. I'll never get enough of you." His gaze and body language soften at your admission. "I feel the same way," he whispers, pushing you back on the bed and capturing your lips in a slow-burn kiss, his hands roaming your body while his tongue works magic in your mouth.

He takes his sweet time kissing you before nuzzling over to that sensitive spot behind your ear, smiling against your skin as you writhe beneath him; he kisses a trail down to your breasts, giving you that intense look from underneath long eyelashes as he teases your nipples for several minutes before continuing down, dipping his tongue in your belly button before planting wet kisses against your inner thighs. He eventually focuses his attention on your core, delicately licking your folds before plunging his tongue inside. You're so turned on that it only takes a few minutes of his talented tongue plus agile fingers to set you off.

"Sooo good," you eventually whimper once you catch your breath, your body limp as a ragdoll as he wraps his hands around your waist and easily moves you to the center of the king-sized bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he strips his underwear off and crawls onto the bed between your thighs. "You need a minute?" he whispers, hissing as you reach a hand out and wrap it around his erection, pumping him several times. "I need you inside me," you plead, moaning when he slowly drags his cock through your wet folds before pushing inside. He teases you with several shallow thrusts before placing your legs over his shoulders; once he's got you right where he wants you he starts thrusting again, slowly at first then picking up pace, running his big hands up and down your still-trembling thighs while his hot gaze pins you in place as effectively as a chokehold. After several minutes he moves a hand down to play with your clit. "Damn baby, you feel too good. I'm not gonna last long," he grits out, barely getting the last word out before your climax hits quickly followed by his.

The sound of your mutual heavy breathing is almost drowned out by the sound of the intense thunderstorm. Once you catch your breath, you bask in the afterglow of back-to-back orgasms, smiling at the way Joe continues to caress you as he stretches out beside you on the bed.

About 15 minutes later, a loud clap of thunder startles you out of your fucked-out bliss and your entire body jumps. "It's okay," Joe whispers, pulling you tight against him. You nestle your nose against his broad chest and breathe him in as the storm continues to rage. "So intense," you sigh. He slides a hand up and down your back and presses his lips against your ear. "What's intense?" he asks, "the storm or the sex?"

"Both," you giggle, "but especially the sex. Can't wait for the next time you get a little jealous."

"Next time?" he scoffs, giving you an absolutely filthy grin before flipping you onto your stomach. "I'm not done with you this time, gorgeous," he purrs, massaging your shoulders for a bit before slowly running his tongue down the length of your spine, pressing wet kisses against the small of your back. You smile against the mattress as he tilts your hips up and settles between your thighs. You sigh in contentment and arch your back, already anticipating an easy, slow-grind fuck.

The strength of his first thrust catches you off guard as you're pushed forward against the silky sheets. Damn, you think to yourself, quickly scrambling to brace your hands against the headboard, arching up and pushing back to meet his next thrust. He continues to fuck you hard, relentlessly impaling you on his thick cock as your whimpers and moans are muffled by the mattress. "You like that?" he growls, pounding into you with a force that takes your breath away; you try and fail to form the word 'yes' so you let your body language do the talking, grinding back against him as the sound of your flesh slapping together at the apex of each thrust drowns out the rolling thunder.

Just as your shaky legs are about to give out, he reaches a hand around and massages your swollen clit, speaking words of filthy encouragement as you dig your fingernails into the padded headboard. "Cum for me, baby," he purrs, pinching your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to set you off. Your climax hits like a bodyslam and you draw just enough air into your lungs to moan his name as he follows you over the edge, your core spasming hard around his cock as he empties inside you right before your knees collapse. You fall forward onto the bed and he follows you down, both of you sweaty and trembling and gasping for breath.

---------

Several hours later your eyes flutter open in the semi-dark room; you squeeze your thighs together as your half-asleep body comes close to orgasm before the moment passes, leaving you feeling unfulfilled. How am I feeling unfulfilled when my man just fucked me stupid? you think to yourself, turning your head to look at said man. The bed beside you is empty and you briefly wonder where Joe is before being distracted by the sound of thunder. You listen to the steady staccato of rain hitting the roof and realize the storm is still storming. You turn your head to check the bedside clock -- 3:33 a.m. -- before yawning, stretching, then going still just as Joe walks into the bedroom, his tall, naked silhouette outlined by the hallway light.

You watch through half-closed eyelids as he gulps water from a water bottle as he walks to your bedside table and sets another bottle down. "Thanks," you whisper, smiling at the thoughtful gesture. "I didn't mean to wake you up," he murmurs, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on your lips. You push up into a sitting position and shake your head. "I was already awake," you answer, reaching for the water bottle and taking several swallows before continuing. "I had a super naughty dream about you, but I woke up right before I got off."

"Why didn't you wake me up? I'm always happy to help."

"You weren't here when I woke up," you shrug. "Plus we already had a marathon sex session. I thought you might be worn out."

"Are you questioning my stamina?" he asks, crawling onto the bed and sitting upright with his back against the padded headboard.

"No, sir," you answer, smiling when he gives you a heated look. "But you put in work earlier tonight. It's okay to be tired."

He narrows his eyes at you. "You think I'm not man enough to get you off again?"

"What? Of course not," you argue, "I know you're man enou . . ."

"Then get your sweet ass over here," he interrupts, patting his thick thighs. You set your water bottle on the bedside table then do as ordered, slinging a leg over his lap to straddle him. He teases your folds with his fingers, groaning when he feels how wet you are. "Damn baby, so wet for me," he whispers, sliding his tip up and down your slit several times before pushing inside; you gasp when he breaches your entrance, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the feel of him stretching your sore folds.

He immediately goes still. "You okay?"

"Yeah." You wiggle your hips a bit to get him moving again. "Just a little sore."

He wraps his hands around your waist and starts to pull you off of him.

"No!" you protest, digging your fingers into his arms to hold your position. "you started this and you're gonna finish it!"

"I don't wanna hurt you, baby," he soothes. "Let me get you off with my tongue."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Are you trying to make me beg for your cock? Seems a little manipulative." His eyebrows shoot upward and he opens his mouth to protest; you cut him off before he has a chance. "I'm kidding," you chuckle, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his lips. You suck his full bottom lip into your mouth, biting it just hard enough to draw a deep-throated groan from him. "If you want me to beg for it, I will," you whisper, kissing a trail up his jawline to his ear. "I need you inside me. Please?"

"You don't have to beg," he murmurs, "but let's take it slow, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

He narrows his eyes at you. "Woman, if you call me 'sir' again tonight we're gonna have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" you ask, trying hard to keep your expression neutral.

"Don't act all innocent," he growls, "you know exactly what kind of problem. Don't you?"

"No, si…."

Joe playfully slaps your ass to cut you off.

"Sorry, daddy," you tease, flashing a wicked grin at the lust-addled expression on Joe's face. Before you know it, he's buried deep inside you. "Yeah," you whine, digging your fingernails into his shoulders and lifting up until just his tip is inside you; you bounce the tiniest bit to make sure you're lined up right before grinding down hard, wanting his entire length back inside you; you manage to get about halfway down before your downward progress is halted by Joe's strong hands on your waist.

"I said take it slow," he orders. "Bossy ass," you mutter, hitting the hardest Kegel when he chuckles. "Shit baby," he hisses. You lock eyes with him. "I need you to fuck me hard," you demand, reaching a hand down to where your bodies are joined. "You've got me dripping wet," you purr, gathering some moisture on your fingers before sliding your hand up and down his throbbing shaft. He looks down to enjoy the view as you gather some moisture and raise your hand to your mouth, licking your fingers then sucking them as he watches.

"Give me a taste," he orders, licking his full lips in anticipation. You reach back down and anoint your fingers again, bringing them within a few inches of his mouth before stopping. "C'mon," he urges, leaning forward and groaning in frustration when you move your glistening fingers just out of reach. "You gonna fuck me hard?" you ask. "I don't wanna hurt you," he whispers, his opaque eyes darkening with lust as as you wiggle your juicy fingers just out of reach. "Please?" you beg, your gaze locked on his as he slides his strong hands down from your waist to your ample ass, getting two handfuls while searching your expression. "Please?" you repeat, slowly sliding your slick fingers across his lips. "I wanna feel every vein on your cock."

"Jesus," he groans, sucking your fingers into his mouth and thrusting up inside you, both of you moaning as he bottoms out. The next several minutes are like an out-of-body experience, Joe's strong hands lifting you up and down, impaling you on his cock as the thunder crashes and the lightning sizzles across the sky.

What seems like a lifetime later, after your fourth orgasm of the night has you seeing stars and gasping for breath, Joe's deep voice penetrates your blissed-out vibe. "You manipulated me just now, right?" he wheezes.

"Of course not," you scoff, panting against his deliciously sweaty neck as your core continues to shoot aftershocks around his slowly-softening erection.

"Bullshit. You know that 'sir' and 'daddy' shit drives me crazy."

"Hadn't really noticed," you shrug, trying hard not to cackle at his incredulous snort. He pulls back and looks at you with an are-you-shitting-me expression. Before he has a chance to speak, you come clean. "Okay yes, I manipulated you like a motherfucker," you admit, still trying to suck air into your lungs as your pulse rate finally starts slowing down, "but you manipulated me too."

"Did not."

"Did too!" you argue, clearing your throat before doing your best Joe impersonation: "You think I'm not man enough to get you off again?" He chuckles as you continue. "You knew that ish was leading to one place and one place only."

"Pound town?"

"Exactly! Thanks for admitting it."

He hits you with a cocky grin, drops a kiss on your parted lips then maneuvers you off of his lap and down onto the bed. "Don't be mad, baby girl," he teases. "I'm not a bit mad," you chuckle, sighing in contentment as he nestles you in his embrace.

After several more minutes of heavy breathing, he nuzzles his nose in your hair before speaking. "I'm gonna pass out now, okay?"

"Yes, sir," you answer, giggling when he gives your ass a smack.

---------

You slowly open your eyes, blinking a few times to bring things into focus. The soft sunlight peeking through the window shades tells you the storm has passed. You yawn and stretch before rolling over to look at Joe; he's still sound asleep, his pretty lips parted slightly and his unruly curls caressing his forehead. It should be illegal to look that good so early in the morning, you think to yourself, grimacing at the thought of your own appearance. You quickly decide you need a shower to wash off the dried sweat, spit and cum from the previous night's activities. You give Joe one more lingering look before easing out of bed and heading for the bathroom.

You turn the shower on to heat up then walk to the toilet enclosure to have a quick pee. "Damn," you whisper as you wipe, a little surprised at how sore you are. "He beat it up for real," you giggle to yourself, stepping into the steaming shower and reaching for your shampoo. You wash and condition your hair then lather your entire body with your fav body wash, being extra careful with your sore bits. Once you're done with your shower, you step out and dry yourself off, towel-drying your hair thoroughly before grabbing a hand mirror out of a drawer. You lean against the vanity and spread your legs a bit, using the mirror to inspect the damage.

A few seconds later there's a knock at the door; Joe enters before you have a chance to respond. Should've locked the door, you think to yourself, giving Joe a reassuring smile when his eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. "What's wrong?" he asks, quickly walking toward you. You set the mirror down and grab your towel, holding it in front of you. "Nothing," you soothe. "Just a little sore."

"Lemme see," he mutters, dropping to his knees at your feet.

"I've been sore before. It's no big deal."

"Let. Me. See." he orders, giving you a belligerent look until you heave a sigh and drop the towel; he uses his thumbs to spread your folds, grimacing when he sees how red and swollen you are. "I was way too rough," he groans. "We've had rough sex before," you shrug, "it's really not . . ."

"But that's the first time I fucked you hard when I knew you were already sore," he interrupts. "I shouldn't have done that." You run a hand through his hair, smiling at the concern in his eyes as he looks up at you through those long lashes. "I begged for it," you argue. "Remember?"

"I remember. I still shouldn't have been so rough." He drops his head against your thigh. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," you soothe, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I loved everything about last night. I lost count of how many times you made me cum."

"It was a lot," he mumbles, trying and failing to suppress a smug grin.

"Exactly," you chuckle, glad to see his cocky swagger is fully intact after the 'real man' angst from yesterday. "Anyway, vaginas are designed to take a beating. One of these days I'm gonna push your big-ass babies out of it, and it will bounce back just fine."

He laughs while standing up and pulling you into a hug. "You always know just the right thing to say," he sighs, burying his face in your damp hair and taking a deep breath. He lets it out slowly before speaking. "Do you get nervous when you think about being a parent?"

"Of course." You lean back and lock eyes with him. "That's super normal. We have a few more years before we need to think about it, but I know we'll be fine." He smiles and gives you a lingering kiss. "We have so many things to look forward to," he whispers, his eyes going wide as his stomach growls loudly, interrupting the tender moment.

"Sounds like you're looking forward to breakfast," you chuckle. "Guilty," he says, laughing along with you. "I'll bring you breakfast in bed. What sounds good?" he continues. "Maybe an omelet?"

You take his face in your hands and level a serious gaze at him. "Babe, I trust you with my life, but I don't trust you to make a decent omelet."

"That's fair," he agrees. "The last ones I made came out a little rubbery."

"We have some blueberry muffins left over from yesterday. I'll just have one of those and some orange juice." You give him a wink. "I'll make us a nice brunch later, does that sound good?"

"Sounds great. Hop back in bed and I'll go grab breakfast." He gives you a quick kiss before striding from the room. You smile as you watch him go. "Nothing like a good ol' fashioned fuck fest to put a little extra swagger in his step," you whisper to yourself, giggling quietly as you walk into the closet; you grab one of Joe's t-shirts and pull it on, deciding to go commando to give your vag some breathing room.

You're just getting settled back into bed when he comes in with a tray of food. You smile at him then grimace as your leg encounters a wet spot on the bed; you scoot over to avoid it, making a mental note to change the sheets after breakfast.

"Something wrong?" he asks, noticing your grimace.

"No, just hit a wet spot," you chuckle. "I could probably wring a few gallons of liquid out of these sheets with how wet you had me last night."

He sets the tray on the bed and gives you a smouldering look. "You keep talking like that and I'm gonna need a cold shower before breakfast."

"Sorry," you mumble, giving him a cheeky look.

"You're not a bit sorry and you know it," he teases, taking what looks like an empty glass from the tray and setting it on his bedside table. He then hands you a glass of juice before crawling onto the bed beside you; he grabs his own glass of juice and holds it up for a toast. "To weathering the storm," he says, giving you a sweet smile when you clink your glass against his. "To weathering the storm," you repeat, taking a hearty gulp of juice before reaching for your muffin. He takes a huge bite of one of his muffins and gives you a sheepish look while chewing and swallowing. "I'm sorry I got so mad yesterday. I know better than that." You swallow a bite of muffin and take a sip of juice before answering. "It's okay; you're human, not a robot."

Y'all exchange small talk for the next several minutes while polishing off your snacks. When you drain the last of your juice and set your glass on the tray, he slides the tray to the side and gives you an enigmatic smile. "Time for some treatment," he says, leaning over to grab the other glass off of his bedside table. "Treatment?" you ask, watching as he dips his fingers in the glass and pulls out an ice cube, popping it in his mouth.

He slides the comforter off of your legs and crawls in between them, smiling at your quizzical expression as he grabs a handful of your t-shirt and pulls it up, exposing your bare crotch. "Mmmm, no panties," he breathes around the ice cube, his broad shoulders spreading you wide as he settles between your thighs. You gasp as he leans down and presses his cool tongue against your sore folds.

"Does it feel good?" he asks.

"It feels amazing," you moan, actually feeling a little lightheaded at the sensation.

"Good. Lay back and relax," he orders. "I'm gonna take my time."

You do as ordered, sighing in bliss as he gently soothes your aching folds with his icy tongue. "You're so good to me," you breathe, groaning as he continues his ministrations. "You're not just getting brunch today," you continue. "You're getting dinner, dessert, and anything else you want."

He grins while popping another ice cube in his mouth, manipulating it with his acrobatic tongue while giving you a dirty wink. "Brunch and dinner is more than enough, baby girl," he teases while lowering his head. "I already know what I'll be having for dessert," he sighs, smiling against your sensitive skin when his deliciously cold tongue causes you to gasp his name.

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