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pirateprincessblog · 10 months ago

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2 batteries away

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: if he can choose to spend time with someone else rather than you, daryl would do it. not because he hates you. he simply doesn't have any type of connection with you. and you are so young. but when rick demands that you join him on a scavenge hunt, he doesn't have much of a saying into it, and chooses to act unbothered. he also chooses to ignore the way you tease him the whole trip, your hips swaying just a bit more when walking than usual. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: daryl dixon x female reader 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: alexandria, pre-negan 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: big age gap, reader is half daryl's age 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, masturbation, breath-play, subtle ddlg, toys, subtle dacryphilia

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i am on season ten of twd (my first time watching) and it feels like this man's clothes keep getting tighter and tighter each episode and i am so here for it. also the way his arms magically always glisten in the sun as he subtly flexes when the camera is on him? give me a break I BEG

Also I miss Rick very much 🥺

"i have a special request. if i'm allowed to do that." a playful voice calls behind you.

you turn around, squinting. the sun is high up in the sky, and right in your eyes. you make out carol's short hair, and nod at her as a sign to keep speaking.

"i'm gonna need something i can make cookies or cakes with. hazelnut, chocolate, almonds,... you know. cake stuff." the woman smiles.

"i'm going out for ibuprofen and possibly viagra, not chocolate."

"viagra? for who?"

you chuckle under the cap rosita has given you, and try to subtly glance over at the man loading the car with weapons. he grunts, glaring at you and instantly shutting down the bullying party you wanted to start.

"i don't need no damn viagra." he slams the trunk door shut, and walks past you, intentionally pushing his shoulder into yours.

you fall a step back, holding in a laugh. carol has her hands on her hips, but her laugh isn't hidden. she knows daryl can't say anything to her.

"oh, come on. i know that you like to stay quiet and mysterious, but a little joking in hard times never hurt anybody." the woman defends you, scrunching her eyebrows at daryl.

"it's hurting me." he yells from the car, slamming the door shut.

"how am i supposed to survive this trip with him, ricky?" you complain, shoulders hanging with rising irritation with the situation.

"you survived a walker flooded prison with nothing but an axe before you found us on the other side, and you're telling me you can't survive a grumpy old man for a few hours?"

"thing is, i killed walkers. i cannot kill him. boo-hoo, the precious tracker. i also, when i see a footprint on the floor facing a certain way, know that someone is headed there. wild, right?"

rick pats your head, messing up the cap in the process just to tease you.

"bring me some shirts on the way back, i'm getting sick of these flannels. and get yourself something nice."

one would think that he gave you his credit card to buy him those shirts at the nearby mall. telling you to get yourself something nice, that idiot. the less fun truth is that you are headed towards a landfill two hours away from alexandria, in hopes of finding anything. glenn and morgan haven't had any luck for a few days now, so rick decided to change the route and the team. daryl and you, apparently, make a great one. that pain in the ass of a man.

"i'm leavin'. you stay and talk 'bout me all you wan'. i'm the one actually doin' something for this place."

"stuck up much? see," you open the car door, sitting inside annoyed, "with the viagra, you'd be a much more pleasant person to be around."

"enough with the damn viagra. fuck's the matter with you?"

"god, just start driving and drop me off somewhere in the middle of the road and i'll find my own shit from a different place. rick doesn't need to know."

"no," he simply responds, not sparing you a glance.

rick waves at you with a smile on his face, knowing damn well what he did putting the two of you together for such a long quest. he's so going to hear from you tonight. if you make it out alive while trying to kill daryl.

"so, what are you hoping to find? booze, peanut butter, new clothes? i'm starting to think you stapled those clothes to your body."

he says nothing, eyes focused on the road. you sigh. maybe you're the problem. you're poking him too much, knowing he has zero patience and doesn't very much like your company. you decide to keep quiet for the rest of the drive, only occasionally glancing over at him out of boredom.

you can't lie, he is an attractive man. you don't know why you're mean to him. he is gorgeous to you, your taste in older rugged men not failing you. you're surprised rick isn't the one you fell for. but next to daryl, he looks too... neat. daryl is just perfect. most of the time his deep raspy voice has you subconsciously rubbing and squeezing your thighs, led by a tingling sensation in your lower stomach. his clothes have recently gotten very tight on him, the buttons of his black shirt threatening to pop and give you a view of your lifetime. he has been working out a lot, you've seen him. fuck, not only have you seen him, you also stayed there, secretly snapping pictures with your polaroid your father had left you before disaster struck. you only had a few films left, yet no self control. something about seeing daryl all sweaty as he did push ups, grunting and almost moaning, thinking that nobody can see him, did things to you.

"wha'?" he asks, sensing your intense gaze.

you turn your head away, flushed. "nothin'."

"mmh."

he keeps it short and stern, and if your panties weren't drenched as your brain replayed the memory of his glistening arm muscles, you'd probably make a sassy remark. he raises an eyebrow, probably also wondering why you aren't being mean for so long now.

"shoes." he says after some time.

"what?" you ask, absent-mindedly staring into the tall trees and the walkers hidden among them.

"i'm hoping to find some shoes. it's gettin' hard to walk in these. i also hope i find sum more arrows."

you nod, surprised that he has actually graced you with an answer. you thought he'd say something like cigarettes or alcohol. you hated people who smoke. but daryl is an exception. he looks damn hot doing it.

"you?" he asks.

"well, new underwear would be nice. i ripped all my good panties, and let me tell you, these thongs are not apocalypse friendly."

"shit, girl, oversharing much?"

"what, you disgusted by female underwear?" you poke back, playfully.

"not female underwear. your underwear."

you're offended. you squint at him, and have to fight the urge to smack the back of his head.

"for your information, you don't look or smell all flowery and fresh yourself. i could use your hair to grease up carol's tray for her cakes. and your fingernails? they have their own ecosystem at this point."

and back to the bickering it is. he grunts again, furrowing his eyebrows. he secretly glances at his fingernails. indeed, they had a layer of dirt under them, but daryl thinks that he has bigger issues than some dirt that will get washed off anyway.

"oh, i also wish to find-"

"yeah, lost interest." the man interrupts. "also, for future conversations, you do not mention your... thongs... to people that are ol' enough to be your father."

ew.

he did not.

"what, is that how you see me? you could be my father?"

how utterly disappointing. there you were, sitting next to him, imagining him going feral between your legs, all while he is viewing you as his child. there goes your masturbating material for tonight.

"well the age fits the description."

"fuck you. seriously." you sigh, turning your body towards the window so you can fully ignore him.

arriving at the gates, you immediately notice a few things that you will be taking home. how foolish of you to not take a truck instead of the crusty old car.

"watch it." just as he says it, an arrow passes by your head, followed with a loud thud.

you don't have to look back to know that a walker had managed to sneak behind you, while you were foolish enough to stay swooning over his arms glistening in the sun with sweat.

"damn it, girl, i don' know what it is with you, but you gotta snap outta it. i can't keep saving ya ass."

"yes, dad." you reply, annoyed.

"hey." he calls, hand reaching to cup your jaw and turn your head towards him. "shut it before i make ya."

if it weren't for the feeling of his rough hand on your face and his raspy voice sending you a warning turning you on, you would've slapped him and told him not to touch you. but oh, you were going crazy inside. you found a new way to push his buttons, and you're going to have so much fun with it.

you walk behind him into the landfill, the smell of junk pinching your nose. daryl is also bothered by it, seeing his scrunched expression as he scanned the first piles of garbage.

"there." he points his crossbow a certain way.

you follow the invisible line, your eyes landing on what seemed to be several taped boxes. they could have three things inside: food, weapons, or traps. weird how nobody has discovered this place yet. or maybe they have, and they took all valuables already.

daryl doesn't wait for you. he makes his way towards the boxes, keeping his crossbow ready if something goes wrong. you, on the other hand, have tucked your knife safely and are walking around like there isn't walkers scratching at the fence, waiting to sink their teeth into your skull.

"dammit."

you hear rattling. you turn around, only to find the man kicking the boxes angrily. the can he has just thrown on the floor rolls up to your feet, and you crouch down to examine it. it is food, but expired. eating it would be like playing russian roulette.

"i mean, we can still... ya'know, take it with us. what happens happens."

"dixon, if i'm gonna die, i'm gonna die from a bullet or a bite. not from a rotten macaroni."

he raises an eyebrow at you, amused with your laid back attitude. he doesn't give you much attention, just silently walks next to you while scanning his side of the landfill.

"ah, sweet!" you cheer, running towards a pile.

"wha'?"

you almost trip over the broken wooden chairs, trying to get to a certain little box in the pile.

"the hell are ya doin'? we're losin' time!"

your eyes instinctively roll at his voice. you know he has nothing smart to say. finally reaching the box, you jump back on the floor, eagerly opening it. seeing that the item still has the foil sealed on it, you victoriously raise it in the air, cheering.

"you have made it a goal for yourself to die today, didn't ya?"

"nah, not anymore. i found something that will keep me occupied and will fuel my will to live a little longer."

you continue your way forward, leaving daryl to stare at the box you have discarded, trying to figure out what it is. but he has decided he has no time for your immaturity. he needs to ask rick to not ever put him with you on a hunt again. he's lost a lot of time already, and hasn't found a single thing to bring back.

"clothes." you point, the pile of fabric sitting on top of a garbage hill.

"you gonna go get 'em?"

"why would i go? you go."

"you wanted your... thongs... so, you go get that."

you scoff, setting the newly acquired item on the ground and slowly climbing up the hill.

"what is this, anyway?" his curiosity wins.

you sit on top of the pile, examining the clothes and discarding the ones with holes in them.your eyes dart to the man below you, and you chuckle when you see him crouch and take the item in his hand.

"it's a wand."

"wand?"

"yes."

"for?" he keeps pressing, his eyes never leaving the pink gadget.

"masturbating."

thud.

you look down, mortified. he better not break it.

"careful with that, what's the matter with you?!"

"you're fuckin' crazy, girl."

you silently mock him, sticking your tongue out at him and repeating his words with exaggerated face expressions. he really gets on your nerves. you gather the clothes you have found into a bed sheet, tying it up and putting it over your shoulder, then pick up the gadget from the floor. it seems alive, it didn't break. you only hope it works. you're young, inexperienced, surrounded by people that are either too young or too old for you. though, the old part never was a problem for you, it was for them.

feeling bored, you decide to keep poking him. he is just so grumpy, and silent. and inviting to irritate.

"so, dixon, you've never heard about one of these?" you wave the gadget in front of his face.

he spares you a glare, and continues walking.

"come on, we're talking. nobody's around. tell me, since all of this started, how many times have you even approached a girl? do you even mastu-"

"'m not in the mood to be picked on right now."

"i'm not picking on you. i promise. just trying to converse."

"you want to be useful? hold this. it's in my way." he throws his vest at you, now only wearing a tight black t-shirt.

you scowl at him, shoving his vest into your backpack.

"you're so fun to be around. i get why rick put us together."

he grunts, leaving you behind. rolling your eyes, you go down a different path, hoping to find something useful to all of alexandria and not just you. turning a few lefts, you find yourself standing in front of a little shed like structure. you bang on the door with your foot, and when hearing no growls, you bravely enter. it is dusty and dark, with a singular armchair and a few cupboards.

you open each one of them, happily shoving all the food you managed to find into your backpack, opening a protein bar along the way and chewing on the oats and dried fruits. you missed having those with yogurt for breakfast.

not only will carol be happy with the amount of nuts and flour you have found, rick will be proud of you. you might even ask for a reward when he sees the amount of canned tuna and jam you have found. you forgot what pancakes taste like.

after clearing the room, you peek out the window. daryl is in the distance, going through piles and kicking stuff out of his way, as if playing. you've collected way more than him, and the sun is at it's highest point. the shaded room seems like a perfect place to take a nap, or just rest your feet and ears from him.

you plop on the armchair like a star washed up on the shore. it feels so lonely lately. rick has michonne, carl has enid, rosita has her boytoys, even gabriel might be having more fun than you. as wrong as it was, you stay up listening to the noises coming across the street. they're loud, there's no way you could ignore them even if you wanted to. even rick had to step in and ask them to be quieter. but what is a problem to someone else is a solution for you. is it wrong to touch yourself while listening to someone else fucking? yes. but is it the only way that works for you? also yes.

you eye up the toy that peeks from the backpack, then glance out the window. daryl is busy with his crossbow, having found something that he could use on it.

fuck it.

you unbuckle your pants, not bothering to take off the panties. your fingers are quick to pop the batteries that come with the package in the gadget, and when the lid clicks, you admire it for a second. there it is, in all its glory. waiting to be abused every day by you, until you find a replacement. hopefully a softer and live one.

taking off the thin protective foil from the head, you position yourself on the armchair. you glance at the window again, carefully monitoring daryl. now, if you thought that eavesdropping and touching yourself was bad, what was this? watching daryl's fingers work on his crossbow, arms glistening in the sun, all while the pink toy softly vibrates on your pulsating clit.

you sigh at the newfound pleasure, rubbing the toy up and down your slit, while your eyes stay focused on the man unaware of your situation. he probably even forgot about you. or is thankful that you have left him alone. even better for you. you get to be a pervert without him ever knowing.

you arch your back, throwing your head on the backrest as you focus on chasing the release. it's been awhile, it won't take you long. your eyes open again, just enough to see if the man is still in his spot. your fingers change the vibration strength on the gadget, and instantly, you gasp. it is so intense, and so much, but you don't want it to stop. this thing is your new best friend, you better get used to it.

something else peeks out of the backpack, the leather catching your attention and giving you an idea. like an animal in heat, you grab the vest, burying your nose into it and spreading your legs further. daryl's scent takes over your senses, making you lose control and become a moaning mess. you are getting wetter by the second, the toy now slipping up and down your slit with ease and giving you maximum pleasure.

"fuck- daryl-" you can't help but gasp, enveloped in his manly scent and fabric.

your hips hopelessly rub against the toy, chasing and chasing after something that isn't quite getting closer, even though it feels like it.

"the hell?"

your eyes widen at the interruption. you drop the vest in your lap, hiding the crime scene from him. the man stands at the door, expression unreadable. yours is one of horrified mixed with desire, the way he stares down at you angrily sending arrows to your core.

"daryl- i- did you, uh, find anything?" you try to play it off, foolishly.

"yeah. i found an animal in heat it seems. couldn't wait for alexandria to do that shit?"

"I-"

"is that my vest?"

he slams the door shut, leaving you two in darkness. you gulp, moving the gadget from your core and letting your panties fall back in place.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" you stutter, failing to put a sentence together while he intensely glares at you.

"ya ain't sorry." he grunts. "ya know why i despise being around your ass? you're inappropriate."

"no, look," you try, but he points a finger at your face, making you close your mouth.

your eyes burn, tears announcing their arrival.

"it's not like that-"

"shut up, dammit! i'm talkin' now! do you have any idea in how many uncomfortable situations you've put me? all those snarky dirty comments, all that flirting, now this? do you understand what that does to me?!"

he's yelling, frustrated and angry with you. but why are you getting wetter? why can't you think rationally? he is scolding you for being inappropriate, and you continue to be even more inappropriate by sexualising simple yelling. not your fault he looks damn hot while he does it, though.

"you're- you're half my age. i can't allow myself to play your games, no matter how tempting."

what?

"what will alexandria think? they already have no good opinion on me. engaging with someone half my age the way you want me to engage is- it is a horrible idea. i'll be out faster than i was in."

silence swallows the room. you still lay on the armchair, half naked with his vest covering you. he paces around the room, fingers running through his hair as he tries to gather his thoughts. you think whether it's time to finally say something, but you wait another moment. you need to gather your thoughts too.

tempting, he said. so he thought about it too. he saw past your jokes, and has been controlling himself so well. if only you knew what it would take to shatter that control, even for just a moment.

"since when do you care what other people think?" you start.

"since rick chose to trust me."

you hum, understanding.

"listen-"

"so you've been thinking about it." you're the one to interrupt now.

his head snaps up, looking at you with his eyebrow raised, as if asking you where you're going with that statement.

"there's nothing wrong with it. it's not like we're getting married or something."

"i'm older than you. way older than you."

"so?"

"i could be your father."

"if you say that word to me one more time i swear i will turn this landfill upside down to find another sex toy to shove up your asshole."

"why do you get so triggered by it?"

you roll your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. you press your thighs together, missing the warmth and buzzing from earlier. fun killer.

"because."

"why?"

"doesn't matter."

"tell me," he presses further.

you finally look at him, frustrated. "because i have fucking daddy issues and the thought of you being so much older than me turns me on. there."

you get up from the armchair, putting his vest on so that you can cover yourself. it almost reaches your knees, hiding your body from his gaze. he says nothing, and does nothing for a few moments. you have your back turned to him, hands resting on the counter of the half chipped kitchen cabinet. your head hangs low with embarrassment from the confession that just left your mouth.

tears stream down your cheeks, luckily hidden by your hair. but daryl doesn't miss the little sniff that comes your way. he sighs, then paces around the place a little more. when you don't hear him anymore, and finally face the fact that nothing will be the same with him anymore, you dare turn around. you almost gasp when you come face to face with him, his chest pressing against yours.

"wha- what are you-"

"shh..." he hushes you, eyes roaming your face.

you aren't sure what to do, or what he wants to do. if he tries to comfort you by giving you a hug, you will break down. and you will never face him again. you thought it was only sexual, but the way he looks at you and hushes you as you cry is awakening new emotions inside of you. ones that you will push down for now, because it is not the time.

"daryl, i'm sorry." you hiccup, genuinely feeling sorry for ruining whatever you had with him.

you feel his hands on the back of your thighs, and before you can react, he picks you up and places you on the counter. you instinctively spread your legs, letting him in closer.

"don't be. or else i might regret this."

you look at him doe eyed as he places his hand on your neck, gently holding you just beneath your jaw and softly pressing into the sides of it. he brings his head close to you, eyes half closed as he stares at your lips.

"daryl." you whisper, not sure of this anymore.

"just hush."

and with that, he presses his lips into yours, softly moving them with rhythm only known to the two of you. his other hand caresses your thigh, then creeps to your bottom and pulls you to the edge of the counter, enough to have your crotch press against his.

you can taste your tears while you kiss him, and he probably can too. he doesn't say anything, hell, you even feel him twitch between your legs. you grind on him, unable to control yourself. it is different than the wand. it's warm, and it responds back. it's better.

"hey," you call, slowly pulling away. "i don't want you to do this because you feel sorry for me or something like that. are you doing it because of that?"

"nah."

before you can continue bombarding him with questions and overthinking, he places his lips back on yours, this time a little rougher than before. you open your mouth, tongue eager to taste him properly. and fuck, he tastes good. you hated cigarettes and alcohol, but from his mouth, you adore it. you finally give in, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly close. finally.

it doesn't take long for him to have you whining and grinding on him, wanting more than just kissing and thigh grabbing and occasional choking. you beg into his mouth, quietly at first, but with each kiss he gives you, you become louder and more demanding.

"touch me, please, please, please," you're desperate.

he smiles, for the first time in a while, and snakes his hands under your top. you hurriedly take off the vest and the top, to make it easier for him, but he pulls his vest back on your body. you are now wearing nothing but panties and the leather vest, making daryl incredibly impatient.

"ya just needed some attention, didn't ya?" he kisses your neck, his hand cupping your breast and thumb playing with the hard nub. "some sense fucked into ya to shut that mouth."

for someone that almost never talks, he is quite the talker now. and you can't complain, when his words have you clenching around nothing down there.

"needed someone older to take care of ya."

you moan at his words, spreading your legs further and raising your hips into his crotch. his hand reaches down to your panties, landing a light slap on your clothed clit as a warning. there's growling outside of the shed, but not enough to make you care. you'll get what you want, and no amount of walkers will stop you, even if it'll be your last.

daryl moves your panties aside, pulling away from you to see you. he hums, thumb coming to contact with your clit and circling it a few times. you shake under his touch, throwing your head back. it isn't something you haven't done before, but the touch is foreign, and different. his fingers are rough and big, an opposite of the soft flesh of your clit. he rubs your slit up and down, enough to smear your arousal so he can touch you better.

"fuck..." you trail, grabbing the edges of the counter and digging your nails into the hard surface.

"didn't find a boy your age to open you up?"

you shake your head. he hums again, fingers now circling your tight entrance.

"that's a shame, then. i'm gonna have to take my time with you."

"what? why?" you ask, disappointed.

"i'd split you in half, little one."

every word in that sentence sent arrows to your core. fuck, just how big is he?

"then, what are we doing?"

he turns around, leaving you yearning for his touch while he grabs your discarded toy from the armchair.

"you share toys?"

"sometimes."

"good."

he pulls himself out from his pants, and you are left with your jaw dropped. it fuels his confidence, the way you're staring at him as he rubs himself up and down. he isn't big. he's huge.

"daryl, how will that fit in me?" you ask, actually concerned.

"it'll take a little time. i'll train ya, and you'll take it like a good girl, the way i teach ya. but ya have to start listening to me and stop pissing me off."

nodding eagerly, you push your hips towards his hands, searching for his touch again.

he turns the gadget on, pressing it against your clit. you moan out loud, grinding on the buzzing toy and sliding with ease. you hear him grunt, and even a quiet moan. your eyes drop to the situation between your legs, and when you see him pressing his cock to the gadget, you swear you could squirt all over him. he rocks his hips with yours, pushing you up against the wall and grunting in your mouth, just like you moan into his. he doesn't break eye contact with you, instead getting off on it.

"i'm gonna cum, daryl." you whine, hands reaching into his hair to pull.

"give me a second."

you'd give him two if he wanted. you try your hardest to focus on not yet cumming, but the way he sweats and grunts for you doesn't make it easy.

"daryl-" you warn, moans becoming high pitched and inviting the walkers around the shed.

he sticks two fingers in your mouth, keeping you silent and helping himself get closer. you only needed to swirl your tongue around him a few time and take him all the way to his knuckles to have him moaning and cumming all over your stomach, rubbing the toy up and down in a sloppy pace.

you follow, pleasure washing over your body along with a thin layer of sweat, the sight of his seed on you making it more intense. you are dehydrated, hot and filthy. and you love it, because he is the same. you'd be like that every day, if it meant getting him the way you just had him.

"you didn't have to..." you say as he helps you dress up, wiping his seed from you with his bandana and discarding it.

"i wanted to. before, today, too."

"you sure?"

"yes."

you nod. he sees that you are not convinced, and he sighs. he pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"i rarely regret my actions. trust me."

"yeah, well, i hope i'll get more of these actions you speak of."

he chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you know, for someone who just came all over me, it's weird to see you so sentimental and comforting."

you don't even finish the sentence, he already playfully throws the bandana at you, rushing outside to hide his smile and to hide from your attempt at attacking.

"oh, you- you- you asshole!"

"right back at ya."

***

yippie! my first twd oneshot, idk how to feel about it lol. had this in the drafts for a while now. feel free to send feedback, doesn’t matter if it is good or bad 🩷

#twd #twd imagine #twd smut #twd daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl x y/n #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead smut

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baronessvonglitter · 6 months ago

Text

America's Favorite Pastime

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 2.3K

Summary: your dad invites his best friend Joel over to watch the baseball game, with no clue that Joel's been sneaking around with you. Being a feisty little brat, you make a risky move while the three of you watch the game.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (Joel is mid forties, reader is late teens or early twenties), secret relationship, fingering, hand jobs on the sly, basically getting away with smutty stuff while your dad's nearby

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Your Uncle Joel's comin' by for a bit, gonna watch the ballgame," your dad tells you one warm June evening. Uncle Joel.. you keep your smirk to yourself as you think on the nickname you've known your dad's best friend by all these years. It's especially inappropriate now that you've been hooking up with him since spring break.

And right on time, Joel shows up at your door, jeans snug in all the right places, a heather-gray shirt clinging to his chest, drawing your eyes to the biceps peeking out from beneath his sleeves. There's a few salt and pepper streaks at his temples and in his beard, which when you've pointed out to him, he's laughed off. His eyes dilate at the sight of you, giving you a once-over before he fixes his expression to be one of sociability. "Hey darlin', where's your dad?" he drawls.

"He's on the warpath, can't find batteries to replace the ones in the remote." You let him in, noting the way he brushes against you casually, as if on accident. His hand gently cups your ass, a quick feel before you settle into your roles as family friends. "I'm used to seeing you come through the back door.. or through my window," you murmur, watching his eyes darken with lustful remembrance. "Dad, Uncle Joel's here!" you shout upstairs.

"Damn it, I gotta find some more batteries," Ray calls out from the second floor. "Make yourself at home, buddy!"

Joel chuckles softly at Ray's outburst, his eyes twinkling with playful amusement, and he turns to you with a mischievous smirk. "Looks like we've got a little privacy for a minute, darlin'," he murmurs huskily, his hands sliding down to your hips.

Your panties are already damp at the feel of his large hands on you, fingers playing at the smooth skin between the bottom of your shirt and the top of your shorts. You reach up and run your tongue along the seam of his lips while you put his hand down the front of your jean shorts.

Joel's eyes darken with desire as you guide his hand, his own breath hitching with pleasure at the feel of your warm, wet flesh. "Jesus, Little Miss Eager.. darlin', you're gonna get us caught," he mutters gruffly, his voice husky with need.

"That's part of the thrill," you whisper as he presses you against the back of the sofa. His fingers slide over your slick folds, teasing you, daring you to cry out or whimper.

He grunts softly as his fingers circle your clit, wishing he was nibbling on it the way you love. "What's wrong? Didn't get enough last night? Drivin' me crazy, even with your daddy right upstairs," he whispers back, his voice taut with desire. "Does your daddy know how dirty you are?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," you reply, breathing rapidly at the feel of his invading fingers.

His fingers explore you, teasing you enough without actually giving in to what you want. "You naughty little thing," he whispers against your ear. "You like takin' the risk, don't you? Lettin' me touch you like this even though your daddy could walk in."

"I am naughty.. your naughty little girl.. your naughty little dirty girl.." your voice breaks, gasping.

Joel grunts softly. "Damn right you are," he growls hungrily, his fingers delving further inside you, curling to find the spot that drives you wild.

"Yes! Yes!" You gasp as quiet as you can, one hand supporting you on the sofa and the other digging your nails into his shoulder. Joel's thumb brushes over your clit in a daring response as his eyes gleam with excitement. "Oh you like that, darlin', don't you?"

"Joel you're gonna make me come.." you tell him, your voice dripping with desperation, the pleasure uncoiling in the pit of your stomach, waiting to be released.

His fingers move faster, generating more friction with your touch. "You gonna come for me right now, with your daddy in the next room?" His voice is taunting and seductive, a dare in and of itself.

"Yes.. yes.. yes!" you squeak out as you come hard around his fingers.

Joel whispers praises against your ear as your pussy grips his fingers, drenching them in your sweet juices. "That's it, darlin', give it to me.. just like that.. good girl," he whispers. "You're so damn beautiful when you come for me like that." His voice is low, husky, full of admiration, and his eyes are full of love and desire.

You whisper his name as you come down, enjoying the little aftershocks of pleasure.

Ray's voice booms out from above. "Hey, what's that noise down there?"

Joel curses under his breath, quickly removing his hand from your shorts, his body tensing as he listens out for Ray's next move.

"We're looking for the batteries, Daddy!" You call back upstairs, taking Joel's wet fingers and licking your juice off them.

Your dad grunts a reply upstairs.

"You little vixen," Joel grins, a lustful expression on his face as he watches you lick his fingers.

"But you like me this way."

"Oh I do. I like you like this way too much, but right now I have to put some space between us before you dad comes down or he's definitely gonna see somethin' he doesn't wanna see."

You pout but he's right. "Don't worry," he mutters, "we'll make up for lost time later. I promise." He goes to wash up quickly, wishing he could keep your scent on his hands.

Your legs are still shaking but you get some beers and soda from the fridge and help Joel set up. Your dad soon comes back down with fresh batteries. "I think we missed the first inning, but that's okay," he replaces the batteries and sits down next to you on the sofa, Joel on your other side. Joel's expression is schooled into neutral politeness as he cracks open a cold one and watches the game. You purposely keep your eyes off him, because honestly if he looks your way you're a goner. The TV generates a soft glow in the relative darkness of the living room.

Sipping your diet soda, you lean against your dad to get comfortable while he explains the rules, even though you've seen a thousand baseball games before. You smile and kiss his cheek as you rest your head on his shoulder, forever his little girl, until someone else comes to take you away. Joel uses his peripheral vision to watch you, comparing your affection for your father with the licentiousness Joel himself has brought out in you.

After feeling Joel's eyes burn a hole through you, you at last give him some attention. "Uncle Joel, who do you think's gonna win? The Rangers or the Red Sox?"

"I'm gonna say the Rangers, sugar. They got a lot of momentum this season, and their batting has been pretty impressive." He takes a sip of his beer, watching you with an appreciative gaze.

"I don't know.. their best pitcher is out for the rest of the season, and they can't hit for shit when they're playing away games." You stick your tongue out at him in a playful ,manner and all he can think of is where he wants that tongue later.

Joel grins at your sharp observation, impressed by your knowledge of the team. "Well damn, darlin'. Sounds like you know your baseball better than I do. I guess we'll just have to see who's right in the end, won't we?"

You chuckle, giving him a flirtatious look as you rise from your seat. "We'll see. Let me get y'all some more beer." You pick up his and your dad's empty beers and take them to the trash.

His eyes don't follow you but his mind is filled with you.. "Damn, she's somethin' else," he mutters.

"You say something?" Ray asks, eyes on the game.

Joel snaps to attention, his heart racing as he realizes he spoke out loud. "Oh, uh.. just sayin' how that third baseman has a hole in his fuckin' glove," he corrects himself.

"They shouldn't have traded for that guy from Detroit. Ridiculous move," Ray shakes his head.

Joel's relieved the conversation is smooth. "Yeah, definitely a tough trade. They really need a consistent lineup."

You return to the living room with ice cold beers. "Here you go, fellas."

Joel's fingers brush against yours a brief moment as you give him his drink. "Thanks, darlin'." His eyes lock with yours before he quickly turns his attention back to the game.

You sit between him and your dad again, pretending to be absorbed in the game. Every now and then your arms or thighs graze one another's. The tension is palpable until, in the semi-darkness of your living room, you place your hand on Joel's thigh, moving upwards to cup his crotch as you innocently turn to your dad to ask him about the game.

Joel clenches his jaw, keeping a vigilant watch on the TV, barely cognizant of the conversation you and your dad are having.

"What's that honey?" your dad asks. "Oh, it's an automatic double when the ball gets hit against the far wall," he explains.

"Hmm, I see.." you continue to caress Joel on the sly, just out of sight of your dad.

Joel shifts in his seat a bit, his face a study in nonchalance. "Yeah, hitting is all about precision and strategy," he chimes in.

"And the bat?" Your caress is bolder, palming his semi-erection while he can't do anything about it. "Does the bat have anything to do with it?"

Joel clears his throat gruffly, soothing the roughness you've created in his voice. "Oh, the bat is absolutely essential.. the right bat can make all the difference in the world.. especially when you've got the right swing." His eyes gleam with unspoken hunger as he holds your gaze, the double entendre obvious.

"Daddy, you played ball with Uncle Joel in high school.. what was his swing like?"

Ray glances up, a nostalgic smile on his face as he recalls the memory. "Oh, your Uncle Joel was a hell of a batter," he grins, shaking his head with admiration. "He had a natural talent for it, a natural sense of timing and coordination. He could knock the ball out of the park with one swing. His whole body would snap into it with this powerful, fluid motion, and you just knew it was gonna be a home run."

"Sounds like nothing's changed," you whisper to Joel, smirking as you watch him writhing under your touch. Taking it up a notch you unbutton his jeans dip your hand inside, finding him growing harder, cock poking through the hole in his boxers. His eyes flutter shut.

You brush your thumb over the tip of his cock and he swallows hard, his features taut with struggling to control himself. "You're toyin' with me, darlin', and you damn well know it," he whispers lightly to you. "Don't make me do somethin' I'll regret in front of your daddy."

"I'll call your bluff." With that, you stroke him faster, turning up the volume with the remote to cover your sounds. Joel's body jerks, his low growl turning into a stifled moan of pleasure. "Damn it, darlin', you're gonna make me lose it," he says through gritted teeth.

"You all right there, man?" Ray asks, eyes glued to the game.

Joel tries to maintain his composure, clearing his throat before answering your dad. "Yeah, I'm fine.. just a lot of excitement in the game," he adds with a strained laugh.

"Shit yeah. This guy scores, the Rangers win." Ray shakes his head and swigs his beer.

Joel takes the opportunity to look down at you, his eyes dark with warning. He shakes his head silently for you to stop teasing before he loses control, but you're having too much fun with this. A slight raise of your brow, your tongue wets your lips and you whisper, "Come for me."

His body tenses at your whispered command, and he does his best to restrain the deep, guttural moan that tries to escape his lips. His hips jerk once against your touch as he spills his release inside his jeans. Luckily, Joel's groans are covered by your dad's shouts of victory as his favorite team wins. Ray leaps from the couch, oblivious to the both of you.

Meanwhile Joel's body is still vibrating with the intensity of his orgasm. He closes his eyes, trying to gather his wits and collect himself before anyone can notice the dampness in his jeans. When he opens his eyes again his gaze lands on you and his stare reads sultry. "You're gonna pay for that, darlin'."

You're shocked at yourself, at what you've caused, but the surge of power is delicious. You remove your hand from his pants and, eyes on him, lick up his cum from your palm. Joel's breath catches in his throat at your bold and suggestive move. He growls softly under his breath, his eyes glued to yours as he silently communicates just how much trouble you're in with him.

"I'm gonna go out and get some more beer," your dad announces, collecting his wallet and keys. "Joel, you okay here? I'm just goin' around the corner."

Joel's in no position to get up without it being evident that's he's come in his pants. "I'm good here," he says mildly, forcing a smile.

"I'll take good care of Uncle Joel," you tell your dad, your smile holding the tiniest bit of mischief. You share a glance with Joel, who for a millisecond looks like he would fuck you on the couch the instant your dad leaves.

"It's no problem, Ray," he assures your dad. "Y'know you can trust me."

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

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babygorewhore · 6 months ago

Text

Staying over

Frat! Rafe Cameron x autistic! Fem reader

Rafe brings you over to his apartment to stay over for the first time. W. C 1.4K

Warnings! Mutual masturbation! Choking! Spitting! Daddy kink! Unprotected sex! Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx reader is autistic but it’s not explicitly said!

Your bag was stuffed with pajamas, medication, stuffed animals, and of course a charger for your headphones. It was the first night you were spending the night at Rafe’s apartment off the college campus as his girlfriend. You weren’t necessarily nervous staying with him. It was more about the change in routine being at someone else’s house. Rafe did pretty well in accommodating you and your needs but you were still apprehensive.

He opened the door for you, carrying your bag as you pulled off your headphones. He bought you a really expensive pair two weeks ago, one of the nicest gifts you’d ever received. But you loved giving him gifts too, especially hand crafted. You removed your shoes, matching socks padding the hardwood floor as you looked around. You saw your trinkets you made him on his desk and shelves.

“Aw, you have them up!” You grin and he nods.

“Of course I do, princess. My girls talent is always gonna be shown off.” You blush and look at the floor as you both walk into his bedroom. He sets down your bag and pulls you into a hug.

“You okay, baby? Hungry?” Rafe sets his chin on top of your head.

“No, I ate before you picked me up.” You answer back and he sighs.

“I love you, princess. I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.”

You giggle and bury your face in his chest. “We talked last night. And this morning. And this afternoon-“

“So? I want you with me all the time. You’re my favorite person.” He mumbles, playing with your hair and he pulls back. Rafe’s blue eyes search yours but your gaze roam his face.

“Do you wanna get comfortable? Watch a movie or something?”

You playfully poke his shoulder.

“Is that just an excuse, Mr. Cameron? For you to get me in your bed?” He smirks and leans down.

“I don’t need an excuse for that, baby. But I don’t want to overwhelm you or anything.”

“You’re sweet, you know that, Rafe?” He breathlessly runs a hand through his hair, flustered by your compliment.

“Yeah, only for you though. But damn, babe. How much did you pack for tonight?” He gestures to your backpack. “You gonna change outfits every hour?”

You push him gently with a laugh. “Shut up! I need my things or I’ll lose my mind!”

Rafe sits on the bed, legs spread as he rests his elbows on the mattress. His shirt material bunching. “Easy with the violence, baby girl. Why don’t you get changed? Show me what you brought.”

You unzip your bag, pulling out a cute piece you bought the other day. The material was soft and comfortable. An oversized Ghostface night shirt that would reach your mid thigh with your black pair of shorts.

You quickly changed, his eyes sweeping over you as you stood in front of him. Rafe’s hand settled low on your hips, fingers playing with the material of your shorts. “Mmm, you’re so pretty, princess. You’re my fuckin dream girl.”

You bite your lip, feeling slightly anxious as you notice a change in sound. It must have been a dying battery somewhere but it was making your skin crawl. You wanted your headphones but you also didn’t want to seem like you wanted to tune him out.

“You don’t think I’m…weird, right?” You ask quietly and he frowns.

“Uh oh. I know that look. You want your headphones?” You grimace and nod.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to tolerate more but-“ Rafe tugs your face to him, cupping your neck.

“Nah, baby. None of that. It’s okay. I know what I signed up for.” You smile gratefully as he brings them to you seconds later, securing them around your ears.

After needed time of quiet, you sat on his bed with your eyes shut as you held your plushie close to you and Rafe tried not to fidget too much. Finally, you removed your barrier and set them down on his side table.

“Can we watch something?”

“Of course, baby doll. Anything you want. Even the scary shit.” You immediately perk up, media being some of your special interests.

“Sinister?” You suggest and he grimaces before catching himself. “What? Is that one too much for my big scary boyfriend?” You tease.

“Fuck no. I wouldn’t be a fuckin dumbass and stay in the house like that dude did.”

“No, you’d offer the demon to snort a line of coke with you.” You dead pan and he laughs. Loudly.

“Jesus, you’re funny.”

You were hyper focused on the movie as the night went on, informing Rafe facts you’d learned by hours of research on your own time and he listened best he could. But you didn’t notice his hand lingering around his crotch. Not until the movie was over and you had laid flat on your back with him next to you.

You felt him shift and you grew quiet. Your own needs rising as Rafe switched his LED lights on a dimmer setting. His fingers drifted to touch your arm, tracing your skin as he looked at you.

“You’re driving me insane, doll. I feel like I’m gonna fuckin bust in my pants.” You swallow and stare at the ceiling.

“Driving you insane?”

“Yeah. Your body is perfect. Shorts barely covering your ass and tits bouncing. You don’t even have to try. I’ve been thinking about you staying here for days. I jerk off about it.” He admits without an ounce of shame and your face heats up.

“Me too.”

“Yeah? You finger fuck that wet pussy thinking about me?” Rafe asks, his voice growing lower and you nod. Play with that pussy then you’re gonna cream on my dick.”

You suck your fingers, getting them damp before you tug down your shorts and panties. Your cunt clenches as you circle your clit, wetness pulsing as you feel Rafe take his cock in his fist. You slide two fingers in easily, your body accustomed to this as you pump them. You moan as you hear Rafe pant and feel him roll his hips.

“Ah, fuck. Something about you alone in your room, fucking yourself while you think about me.” He strokes harder before he finally breaks and pulls you on top of him.

Your legs straddle his lap, his hands gripping your ass as he pushes you down on his dick, he sits up and you tear off his shirt. Your fingernails lightly dig into his chest. You take him to the hilt, your right hand moving to play with his balls.

“Look at me,” He orders and you bounce on his cock, avoiding his eyes but he refused to let it go. “No. Keep your eyes on me, princess. I wanna see how it good it feels when you cream on my cock,” he growls and you obey him as you grind down.

He massages your tits as he helps you, your movements growing sloppy as you get closer. “Rafe-it feels so good-“ You stammer and he grunts.

“Yeah, babydoll? You like it when daddy fills you up? You like being a greedy little slut for me?” You nod with a whimper and he slaps your ass hard. “Cum for me, princess. And then I’m gonna fucking pound you until you’re screamin.”

You cum all over his dick, whining as you shake and your vision goes white but he’s relentless as he flips you on your back. His hand around your throat. He lifts one leg over his shoulder, getting a deeper angle and thrusts harder.

You shriek from overstimulation but your hands clutch his shoulders. “Open your mouth,” He says and you do. He spits inside, “You’re such a good girl, baby. Taking me like a fucking whore,”

“Mhm, needed this so bad, daddy. I want you to cum in me, want it to spill out and soak the bed.” You beg and he moans, tightening his grip on your neck, keeping your eyes on him.

“That’s it, princess. Proud of you for talking through it,” He huffs before he cums in you, the headboard slamming against the wall and your pussy squelches. He lets go of your throat, hands on either side of your head as he fucks through his climax.

“Fuck, princess. Squeezing me so hard, your cunt feels so good,” He praises and you blink rapidly as he pulls out, pumping his dick and cum drips on your tits. “Messy little slut. I want you to get on all fours. Gonna cum on that pretty tattoo on your back.”

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @drewstarkeyslut @slvt4jamesmarch @redhead1180 @rafesthroatbaby @rafescurtainbangz @rafeinterlude @gri959 @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess

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tradgedyinwaves · 3 months ago

Text

Touch - Ch. 3

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: Just a tad smutty, more like an idea of smut rather than the stuff itself.

Two Weeks Later. Friday.

You stood outside under an awning, waiting for the bus to show up as you texted away on your phone. A soft smile had plastered itself to your face the longer you texted with the big Scot, but one thing you’d noticed is that he was always mentioning the other members of his team, not that he’d told you what they do.

“John is a pro at fixing up cars, never seen a car he couldn’t fix.” “Lordie, this pasta is good. Gaz is always making amazing food.” “Remind me not to bet against Simon again. Lost all of my money on that rugby match last night.”

He never referred to Simon by his callsign, not wanting to give you any reason to recognize or connect the dots. Eventually, they’d each come to you, injecting themselves into your life one by one. You’d told Johnny that your car had broken down a few days ago, complaining that the bus was always late and it never had any open seats, but you didn’t have the money to get it fixed. He’d offered for John to come take a look, but you’d insisted it was fine. Except it wasn’t. After a week of bus rides, you were ready to take him up on the offer.

🪻: Hey Johnny? Would your friend be able to take a look at my car? I can’t bear the bus anymore. 🧼: Of course. We can come tonight once you’re off work? 🪻: oh thank you so much! You guys are truly the best. 🧼: Anything for you, Petal.

You blushed at his message, stepping onto the bus in much better spirits than before.

A few hours later, there was a knock at your door and you jumped at the sound, getting up from the couch to open it and smiling shyly as Johnny’s face came into view. You hadn’t seen him in person since that day in the flower shop, exchanging pictures over the last two weeks, but nothing else. His scruff was freshly trimmed, bright eyes shining at you, but it wasn’t him that made your eyes bug. It was the man standing just behind and slightly to the left of him, wide frame blocking light from the hallway.

“Aye, this is Price,” Johnny’s thick accent sounded jovial as you stepped back, opening the door for these two men. Oh, Magda was going to have a heyday when you told her about this. “You can call me John if you like, little bird,” the older man stated, passing through the door to stand next to it. You stammered a bit before shaking your head and introducing yourself, closing the door softly. “I’m sorry, I thought you were gonna take a bit longer. I’ll go change and then take you guys down to my car,” you offered, giving them small smiles as they nodded to you before disappearing into your bedroom. You took a moment to lean against the door, fighting with your thundering heart rate as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back. Clearing your head, you moved from the door to change into some jeans and a simple shirt, tossing the shorts you’d been wearing into the corner.

While you were changing, the two men were having an almost silent conversation in your living room. “Cap, did you see-?” Johnny’s eyes met Price’s who only gave him a hard stare and the slightest nod. Between the pretty color on your cheeks and those damn shorts, both men were having their control tested. And you only served to make it worse, coming out in jeans that hugged your hips and ass in a way that left nothing to the imagination. They were just as bad as the shorts.

“Ready?” you asked, trying to stay chipper as to not betray your rapid heart beat or the way your voice wavered on the word. “Lead the way, Petal.” Johnny gave you one of his lopsided smiles and you had to switch to manual breathing.

A few minutes later, you were down on the street with them, rambling on about what you thought the problem could be. “It’s possible it’s the alternator, but it could also be the battery. I’m honestly not sure at this point. It was a hunk of junk when I bought it,” you babbled out, forcing yourself to stop after a few moments of long-winded speech and the soft looks the two men were giving you.

John had himself under the vehicle in minutes, thankful that his line of sight to you was blocked. You were unknowingly challenging both of them with your thick waist and that pretty look you got in your eyes when you were looking at either of them. He wasn’t even sure how Johnny was coping, standing that close to you.

But Johnny wasn’t coping. If you looked away for even a moment during your conversation, he was readjusting himself to make his obvious arousal even the tiniest amount less obvious. You’d caught him once but didn’t say anything, turning to watch John under your car while you struggled to hide the blush that covered your cheeks. Sometimes, you were grateful you were a girl, though your squeezing thighs weren’t as subtle as you thought they were and Johnny had to clear his throat to hide the groan that threatened to spill forward.

Finally, John was sliding out from under the car and standing before you, covered in grease and wiping his hands on a towel. Suffice it to say, if you’d been a man, your desire for them would have been just as apparent as theirs. With a soft grunt, John was directing you to try to start it, making you jump to action. Darting over to the driver’s seat, you slid the key in and almost cried when it started. You hopped back out, running over to John to wrap your arms around his middle, thanking him profusely for fixing it and how could you ever repay him.

“Let me take you out, little bird.”

Your eyes widened while your arms released the huge man, flipping between Johnny and Price, eyes filled with confusion when the former gave you a soft smile and a nod. You’d thought Johnny would ask you at some point, but you supposed that he hadn’t in two weeks, so why would he now? Chewing the inside of your lip, you nodded. “I’d love to,” you replied while your cheeks turned a bit pink and you could have sworn you saw them share a look over your head. “We’d best be going. I’ll pick you up tomorrow, 8pm,” John stated, a warm smile on his face as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head before moving to clean up his tools. Johnny joined you and you looked up at him with the same confusion, though you couldn’t bring yourself to voice it. He just gazed down at you with those pretty blues, a soft smile on his lips that looked a little more like a smirk than anything else. “Don’t look at me like that, Petal,” Johnny whispered to you as Price started to move his tools to his truck, hugging you tightly before walking away to get into the truck. “See ya soon, pretty bird.”

Hours later, laying in bed, you reflected on your evening. You’d been touched more in the last few hours than you had in years and it made your mind a little hazy. If it wasn’t Johnny’s hand on your lower back as the three of you trekked down the stairs, it was Price’s arm slung over your shoulders as you explained what happened when your infernal car died. From there it was Johnny’s small touches like brushing your hair back and then finally Price’s kiss to the top of your head that had your body feeling like they’d set little fires down everywhere they touched.

There was a foreign feeling inside when you laid down that night. The ache between your thighs and the simmering flames they’d left behind creating a buzzing in your ears that you just couldn’t shake no matter how much chamomile tea you’d drank or how many breathing exercises you did. So finally, you did something you hadn’t even thought of in months. Sliding your fingers under the shorts you’d slipped back on when they left, you let out a soft moan as your fingers found the throbbing bundle of nerves and rubbed quick, precise circles on it. Your brain conjured some filthy images of the two hulking men taking you however they saw fit, not that you’d ever admit it.

I hope you guys are enjoying this and thank you so much for the support! I promise I'm not forgetting Gaz and Ghost. It's just not their time yet. They'll get their shot, pink promise.

#call of duty x reader #captain john price #plus size #john price x plus size reader #john price x you #john price x reader #john price #kyle gaz x you #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod fanfic smut #simon ghost riley #touchau #tradgedyinwaves

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years ago

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Pretty When You Cry.

Joel realises his morals are fucked. You realise you like it.

Pairing - Joel Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Lots of cursing, sexual content, mentions of prostitution

Word Count - 1750

Author's Note - oh boy. buckle in. i love when a character has a messed up moral compass and is a little rough and jagged around the edges. i also love lana del rey. hence, this joel fic was born. please enjoy.

Masterlist. Requests.

“Stupid fuckin’ girl,” Joel spits at you.

You flinch and step backwards, trying to escape what is inevitably going to be a brutal verbal assault. The older man watches your every move and chuckles darkly.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Nowhere, is the answer. You’re down a dark alleyway in the QZ, a barely lit back street. Even if you run, you’ll just end up circling back around. You’re walled in – both literally and figuratively.

Joel moves towards you, his large frame making you want to shrink away instinctively. He towers over you, broad shoulders blocking your view.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You weren’t, is the issue.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Joel has been desperate for a car battery for weeks. A few days ago, you’d overheard a guy talking about smuggling spare parts. You’d set up a covert meeting, and asked if he could get you what you needed. He’d told you he could – for a price. It didn’t matter that the currency was you. You’d do what you needed to do. For Joel.

You’d made your way to meet him tonight. His name was Pete, you were pretty sure. He was a sleaze, a real piece of work - but he had connections. He had people working for him, could practically get you anything if you asked nicely and promised to pay.

You had nothing to your name. No one did, these days. You knew you couldn’t pay Pete with alcohol, or cigarettes, or drugs. No, you’d give him something else. You’d give him you. An offer which he eagerly accepted.

He wanted you to pay before he’d give you the battery. You’d argued, but it was no use. You didn’t want to make him angry – it’d only make it worse.

So there you were. He had backed you against the wall of this very alleyway, demanding you take off your shirt. Just as you were lifting the hem over your head, Pete hit the ground.

You looked up to see Joel, more furious than you’d ever seen him before. He’d punched Pete in the head and knocked him out cold.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” he hissed.

“Well I was doing you a favour. Not anymore, apparently,” you hissed back.

“A favour? You’re whoring yourself out as a favour?”

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, turning on your heel to leave.

Joel grabbed your wrist and pulled you backwards with force, taking no care whatsoever. You were worried he was going to snap your arm, the way he was clutching it.

“Stupid fuckin’ girl.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“Are you even listenin’ to me? What the fuck were you thinking?”

He’s looking at you pointedly, clearly expecting some sort of explanation. You’re not really sure what to say. When you don’t answer, he takes another few steps forward, intimidating you until your back is pressed against the rough brick of the wall.

Joel grabs your chin between his fingers and forces you to look at him. His fury hasn’t subsided – you can still feel it rolling off of him in waves. He’s buzzing with adrenaline, the electricity of it infectious, seeping into your pores.

“You better have a damn good reason as to why I just watched you take your shirt off for Pete fuckin’ Davis.”

He spits the man’s name like it tastes disgusting in his mouth. It makes you smirk slightly.

“You think this is funny? Huh?” Joel asks, squeezing your face tighter. You shake your head, not once breaking eye contact with him. He stares you down for a minute before releasing his grip.

“He has a battery,” you explain quietly. “He’s been selling spare parts. Said he could get me what you need if we cut a deal. It’s a small price to pay, Joel.”

“That is not a small price.”

The genuineness of it makes you wince.

The thing is, Joel doesn’t usually care about this kind of stuff. He’s not exactly an upstanding citizen, having made his fair share of dumb deals and below the belt exchanges. He’s usually the one encouraging you to break the rules a little, if it means you both benefit.

Above all, you are convinced that Joel doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anyone, not really. You know that he and Tess have this ambiguous sort of partnership - friendship at a complete stretch. But that’s it. Joel doesn’t care.

So why is he so furious?

His rage has infected you now. You’re exasperated, sick of the mixed signals. You and Joel were partners in crime, acquaintances at most. It didn’t matter that when he looked at you, the whole world fell away. It didn’t matter than when you heard his voice, time stopped temporarily. It didn’t matter that he was the last thing you thought about at night and the first thing you thought about in the morning. None of it mattered.

“Why do you fucking care, Joel?” you spit, shoving at his chest. His scent is suffocating you, making it hard to think. You need to put some distance between you before you do something reckless.

“Why do I care? Why do I fuckin’ care?” he practically yells at your face. “Are you that stupid?”

“Stop calling me stupid!” you retaliate. “I’m smarter than every damn person in this place!”

“Smart enough to turn to prostitution?”

That word makes you scoff.

“It wasn’t like that. It would have been a one time thing. A quick payment.”

“That’s not a fuckin’ payment! That’s the one thing you shouldn’t fuck around with!”

You can tell he’s genuinely upset, but you’re not sure why. It’s none of his business what you choose to do with your body.

“I was doing this for you, asshole! He would have given me the battery, and you could have gone and found Tommy. I did this for you,” you yell, shoving him as hard as you can. He doesn’t move.

“Keep your fuckin’ voice down,” he hisses.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“God damn it! You never fuckin’ listen, do you? How stupid are you, huh?”

Joel takes a heavy step forward, one hand reaching out to wrap around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just keeps it there, holding you in place. Right where he wants you.

His eyes darken, still alight with fury. He smells like smoke and musk and sweat and spearmint toothpaste. You want to lick the exposed skin of his neck to see if he’d taste the same.

He leans in, almost bumping your nose with his.

“We don’t fuck around with that stuff, alright?” he murmurs. “I’ve seen pretty girls like you get hurt real bad for a lot less. You can’t let them treat you as any less than human.”

You’ve never heard him this sincere. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why do you care, Joel?” you whisper. “I’m just as disposable to you as I am to the rest of them.”

He pauses, and you can see the cogs turning in his head. He’s still holding you by the neck, his other hand coming around to tangle in the back of your hair. He’s looking at you so intently that you feel your bravado start to waiver. Your bottom lip quivers, and your eyes begin to well up. A drop runs down your cheek, and the dam breaks.

He’s never seen you get upset like this. You’re trying to stay stoic, but the tears are falling freely, dripping down your face.

This is the moment Joel realises that he’s a changed man. He’s known for years that his morals aren’t what they used to be. They can’t be, not in this world. He’s murdered, robbed, tortured, kidnapped. His moral compass was broken a long time ago. But the change has never dawned on him, until now. He’s holding you roughly, watching you try not to sob, and he doesn’t feel sad. He doesn’t feel sympathy, or regret, or remorse. No. He feels a sick sense of arousal. He’s turned on.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, looking at you carefully. Your lip quivers again, and his resolve breaks completely. He’s surprised he doesn’t hear it shatter.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry.”

With that, he’s surging forward, dipping his head to lick at your tear stained cheeks. Your sadness is salty and sweet and real. He’s hooked.

Joel presses forward and kisses you harshly. His hand tightens in your hair, yanking you closer to him. He presses your bodies together, and the warmth of him makes your head spin.

You’re still crying as you moan into his mouth. He’s rough and careless and you want more. He groans, and presses you backwards into the wall, the brick scratching up your back. Everything is blurry for the both of you. He’s grabbing at you, groping anything he can find. He’s searching for skin, hands making their way up and under your shirt. You know how risky it is, making out with Joel in a back alley in the middle of the QZ. You don’t care. Neither of you do. You’re drunk on each other and it’s clouding your judgment.

“You like it when I’m mean to you, honey?” he murmurs, voice jagged and low. He’s kissing at your neck, nipping the skin and leaving purple bruises in his wake.

“Yeah, Joel, fuck. I love it,” you whine. “I love you.”

The both of you freeze at your confession. You’re honestly not sure if you mean it, or if it’s just the heat of the moment. It doesn’t matter now. You’ve said it, and you can’t take it back.

“You think you do,” he mutters against your throat. “But love doesn’t exist in this world. Not anymore.”

You both pause, heavy breaths filling the air. After a while, you break the silence.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you whisper. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.”

You’re not sure whether you’re apologising for loving him, or admitting it, or for the events of the evening. You’re just sorry.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs gently against your mouth as he kisses you again. “Don’t be sorry.”

He takes you up against the red brick wall, legs wrapped around his waist and arms tangled around his neck. Your back is cut and bleeding, throat sore and pulsing where he’s bitten you. He makes you come twice before he finishes himself, teeth sinking into your shoulder, hands leaving prints on your hips.

Joel says that love doesn’t exist anymore. You think he’s wrong.

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buckyshoneybunny · 3 months ago

Text

Stings & Kisses

Summary- A Day of yard work takes a painful toll.

W.C.- 894

Warnings- Cursing, fluff, Bucky being the best boyfriend, all most panic attack.

A/N- So I got fucking stung by hornets yesterday trying to do a good thing and weed eat for my grandmother since her daughter was slacking and not doing it. Was home alone and on the verge of a panic attack, had to call my dad to figure out what to fucking do. So I decided to write a drabble of Bucky taking care of reader who gets stung. This is probably trash but I hope you guys like it!!

You and Bucky had decided to spend the last few weeks of summer break with Sam, Sarah, and the boys. It turned out to be the best part of yours and Bucky’s summer. Hot days out at the dock, shopping trips, waterpark adventures and so much more.

You were having the time of your life.

Today was one of the rare days it wasn’t blistering hot. Sarah had decided to take the boys school shopping, you declined her offer of tagging along. Instead, you wanted to tackle the yard, something that had gotten pushed to the side in yalls days of fun.

After an hour of trying and failing to restring the Weed Eater, choosing to just have Bucky do it, and an extra couple of hours waiting for the batteries you may or may not have forgotten to plug in that morning, to charge. Just after lunch you were finally all set to head out to work.

Headphones connected, phone and Weed Eater in hand, you leave Bucky and Sam to tackle putting together the two new desks that AJ and Cass insisted they needed. After AJ ‘accidently’ broke it. How do you accidently break a desk? You snickered as you listened to AJ’s lame excuse.

You’re about half way through, everything was going smoothly. You were currently tackling a spot under a low hanging tree, there had been tall grass and brush. That was when you felt it.

Stinging, searing pain in your right ass cheek. You didn’t have to see them to know what it was. A split-second after the first sting you drop the Weed Eater and haul ass up to the house. As you run you feel more stings, your whole body feels like it’s burning.

Once you get a good distance away, you pause, already shaking and panicking. You look down to see one still on your shirt, you yelp and smack it away. You run to the porch, throwing your phone, headphones, and wallet, and strip off your shirt and shorts, neighbors be damned. You were thick enough on the thighs that you could sometimes wear Bucky’s boxers. Left in his boxers and a sports bra you run inside.

Tears burn your eyes and you gasp and cough, driving yourself to a panic attack. Bucky looks up when the door opens, one look at you and he drops whatever he’s holding. You start to pace the living room, the pain almost unbearable.

“Y/N? Doll, you okay?” He frantically asks as he walks to you.

You shake your head, still gasping for breath you walk around him, trying to ‘walk off’ the pain. Sam furrows his eyebrows and studies you; he curses when he realizes what’s going on.

Bucky reaches for your left elbow trying to stop you.

“Bucky no! She got-” You yelp when he touches one of the stings. “Stung right there,” Sam finishes on a grumble.

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Shit baby I need you to calm down, you’re gonna drive yourself to a panic attack if you don’t stop.” He gently cups your face.

“It h-urts," you cry.

“I know, baby I know. I need you to calm down and tell me what stung you.”

“I don’t k-now, I w-was all yellow I think.”

While Bucky works on calming you down Sam looks out the back door.

“Hornets!” Sam yells.

“What?” Bucky calls out.

“She got stung by hornets,” he says again. Sam makes a paste out of baking soda and water to put on the stings to help draw out the poison.

Once Bucky gets you calm, albeit you're still shaking and tears in your eyes. He gives you some Benadryl and takes the paste from Sam. He gently puts the paste on and then a band-aid over top to help the paste stay.

“Shit doll, you got stung at least 10 times.” He mumbles, tongue between his teeth as he works

“Those fuckers got me in the ass first,” you grumble and pout. Bucky snorts and you flick his nose. “That’s not funny,” you say despite the smile that breaks through.

“Have you ever been stung by hornets before, doll?” He’s on his knees in front of you, having just finished taking care of all the stings, his hands hold your hips. You shake your head.

“If you have trouble breathing or swallowing, or feel like you’re swelling up, tell me immediately, okay?” He has that concerned crease in between his eyebrows. You nod and take a deep shaky breath.

“You okay?” He asks softly and rubs your hips with his thumbs.

“Yeah,” you sigh and wipe your face.

“You need anything?”

“Some Chick-fil-a, kisses, and cuddles.”

He grins and with a ‘yes my love’ he leaves to fetch your order. Sam goes back to putting the last desk back together while you head to the guest room you and Bucky had been staying in. You kick your shoes off and very carefully crawl under the covers. You put The Rookie on, rewatching a couple of episodes so you don’t watch anything new without Bucky.

When Bucky gets back, he cuddles and kisses you, you both eat and watch your show. It takes you a good hour after it happened to stop shaking. Later that night you shower and Bucky puts some ointment on them with more band-aids and kisses them all better.

#bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #honeybunnywrites #marvel #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader

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five-and-dimes · 10 months ago

Text

A White Blank Page

Hob Gadling messed up, and he just wants Dream to forgive him. But first he has to convince Dream that he did, in fact, mess up.

AO3

The first problem, Hob thinks, is that Dream ultimately struggles with balance. Left to his own devices, he is a pendulum swinging back and forth, never managing to settle in a comfortable middle. It is endearing, and frustrating, and heartbreaking, and so very sweet, but Dream simply tries much too hard.

The second problem, is that Hob has had a fucking terrible day.

It starts off wrong when he hits ‘off’ instead of ‘snooze’ on his alarm. By the time he’s realized his mistake he’s forced to skip coffee and breakfast in order to have any hope of getting to work only a little late.

Which means he’s hungry, tired, and developing a caffeine headache during his least favorite class of the week. In general he loves his job as a university professor, but every now and then he got groups like this one- who never did the readings, didn’t participate, and overall made it very clear that they didn’t want to be here, no matter the work Hob put into the lesson plans to try to get them engaged.

By the time he finally makes it to the staff break room, he only manages a single sip of coffee before turning a corner and immediately running into another professor and dumping the hot liquid all over himself. It’s about then that he begins to suspect with growing dread that this is just going to be One Of Those Days.

And unfortunately, he’s right. He spends the work day in a coffee stained shirt, a student after class eats up half his lunch break asking questions that were definitively covered in the syllabus, he hits his knee hard on the edge of his desk, and when he finally gets to his car to go home, he finds the battery dead and ends up spending nearly an hour tracking down someone with jumper cables to give him a jump start.

The door to his flat slams shut behind him as Hob practically throws his messenger bag on the floor. Sighing heavily, he ran his hands through his hair as he made a beeline for the shower. You’d think after six hundred years and many days far worse than this one that he’d be less of a mess. But the truth was, as much as he loved life, he was still human, with a human’s temperament and an absolute disdain for stupid days like this one. Especially when he gets out of the shower and realizes he forgot to grab a towel, the minute warmth and relaxation he’d managed effectively killed when he’s forced to run wet and naked through his cold apartment to fetch one from the linen closet.

So yeah. It’s been a terrible day.

He’s frustrated, and annoyed, and just over this damned day. All he wants is something quick and easy for dinner and maybe a drink before falling into bed to make the day end faster, who cares that it’s barely 6pm.

And that’s when Dream arrives.

In hindsight, Hob should have been expecting him. Dream usually stopped by to visit his lover near the end of the night, sitting with Hob to hear about his day even if just for a little before being drawn back to his duties. They scheduled their longer dates, but Hob was accustomed to Dream popping in whenever he had a chance and knew that Hob was free. His appearance now was not unusual.

But Hob wasn’t thinking about his usual routine. All he was thinking about was his own frustration with everything around him. So instead of a small startle that he brushed off with a laugh, the sudden sound of swirling sand and a deep voice greeting “Hello Hob” had him jumping, his heart racing as his hands flailed and knocked over the beer he had just opened.

That is, apparently, the last straw.

"Jesus, FUCK," Hob slams his hands on the counter, face twisted in anger and he misses the way Dream flinches as he snaps around and shouts, "Would it kill you to use the bloody door? At least then I'd have the option not to open it!"

There is a moment where Hob swears the lights flicker, and Dream’s face darkens like a shadow has passed over him. It is there and gone too fast for him to be certain it wasn’t just his own rage warping his vision.

But then, much more blatantly, Dream… shrinks. Although maybe it's just the way he curls in on himself, averting his eyes and clasping his hands in front of him.

"I sincerely apologize, Hob," there is genuine guilt in Dream's voice, and even through the haze of anger it makes Hob's chest clench. "I will return another time more appropriately." He bows his head and between a blink of an eye is gone from the apartment as quickly as he had arrived.

Hob stalks into the living room, grabs a pillow off the couch and screams into it.

~~~

The next morning, Hob feels… good.

Well, physically he feels good. He has vague memories of a pleasant dream, his body feels loose and well rested, his blankets are warm and comfortable, and he has just enough time before his alarm goes off to get up leisurely. It is, all things considered, a perfect morning.

Which makes him feel, emotionally, like complete and utter shit.

In general, Dream does not interfere with Hob’s sleep. The exceptions being scheduled dream dates, and one instance when Hob had had persistent nightmares for over a week and eventually resorted to begging Dream for a night of dreamless sleep. Most of the time though, Dream has expressed that he thinks it’s important for Hob to experience the Dreaming without his meddling, which Hob understands. If anything, he thinks it makes the times he does spend lucid in the Dreaming more special.

But this morning has the unmistakable impression of Dream’s influence.

When they first reunited, Dream spent every other breath offering Hob things. Boons and answers and powerful trinkets, anything Hob might want in order to make up for his actions in 1889, and for his absence in 1989. It had taken several weeks for Hob to convince him that he was forgiven. That he didn’t need to ‘make up’ for anything, didn’t need to pay Hob back in any way.

This- this perfectly peaceful sleep and soft morning- feels the same. An offering Dream has left at his feet in hopes of forgiveness.

Yeah. Hob feels like shit.

Forcing himself to rise, to disentangle himself from the comfort of his blankets, he makes the decision to deal with one thing at a time. He quickly shoots an email out to the class he has today. He knows he has no hope of focusing on lecturing today, and so he apologizes for canceling at the last minute and attaches a file for a worksheet to complete for the next week. He takes a shower, and in a moment of indulgent self-deprecation, keeps the water icy cold, washing away any lingering comfort from his restful night.

Sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of coffee, he sighs and puts his head in his hand. He knows he overreacted, that his words were mean and entirely uncalled for. A small part of him shivers in fear that Dream won’t come back- that his anger with Hob will drive him away just as it did in 1889. But he shakes his head, trying to think logically. Dream has promised him, more than once, to always come back to Hob. Not to mention, Dream’s influence on his sleep the night before suggests that Dream is not gone, but simply waiting for Hob to calm down.

He’s on his second cup of coffee when he looks up and happens to glance at the window. There is, he’s pretty sure, a raven on his windowsill. That raven is, he’s pretty sure, Matthew. They’ve met a handful of times, and he doesn’t think a normal raven could give the impression of glaring quite like this one. Then again, given his luck the past few days, he could very well be about to open his window for a perfectly normal waking world crow.

Approaching the window cautiously, he calls out, “Matthew? That you?”

“No, it’s your mother. Now be a good boy and open the fucking window.”

“Jeez, I was just checking…” Hob grumbled as he unlatched the window, allowing Matthew to glide inside and land on the back of one of his kitchen chairs. “Did… did Dream send you?”

Matthew looks ruffled, “Yes and no. I was just supposed to keep an eye on you from afar, but I have GOT to know what’s going on.”

Hob frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that the Dreaming is freaking out. There are these earthquakes popping up all over the place, and when I asked the boss man about it, he just said he ‘wronged Hob Gadling’, which coming from him could mean anything from he broke a teacup to he accidentally started a war. So then he’s all, ‘Matthew’,” he deepened his voice in an impression of Dream, “Go and check on Hob Gadling and bring me news of his emotional state’. Which, I THINK means find out if you’re mad at him? So.” He shrugs as much as a raven is able, “Are you mad at him?”

Hob really doesn’t want to cry in front of Matthew. Still, he can’t keep his voice from cracking with guilt when he answers, “No.” He takes a deep breath, tries to steady himself, “No, of course not! I just… I had a bad day and I overreacted.”

“Oof, we’ve all been there,” Matthew shakes his head sympathetically, “What’d he do to set you off? Cause he feels real bad about it.”

Here, Hob hesitates. Sometimes he feels like Matthew doesn’t really like him, and he has the boyfriend instinct to want, very badly, for Dream’s friends to approve of him. He doesn’t think Matthew will approve of this.

“He… he didn’t really do anything. He, uh, showed up and startled me and I just… y’know… yeah.”

Matthew, expectedly, looks extremely unimpressed, “He ‘showed up’.”

“I mean he, y’know, he did the thing where he just appears, and it always gives me a heart attack but this time I just-”

“Well have you fucking told him that?” Matthew squawks at him, “Jeez, I thought he killed your dog or something the way he was acting. No wonder he didn’t want to check on you himself if he thinks just being here is what made you mad at him!”

“I know!” Hob collapses onto the couch, burying his face in his hands to hide the way his eyes have begun to water, “I feel awful. Could you please, please tell him that? I want to see him so I can apologize properly.”

“Hmf,” Matthew grumbled, looking as annoyed as a raven can, “I’m tempted to let you stew, except for the fact that that would suck for the boss too. Also I’m afraid if I wait too long all those earthquakes are going to turn into a ‘Tremors’ situation.”

Hob let out a sigh of relief, looking up to give Matthew a grateful look, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. But you owe me! I want one of those cakes that’s soaked in rum, got it?”

“Anything,” Hob says without hesitation.

Matthew grumbles a bit more, but looks somewhat sympathetic as he flies back out the window to deliver the message. He knows the raven is right- he’s never told Dream not to do his magic appearing act, he’s always just laughed and greeted him, never gave any indication that Dream should change his arrival. And to be honest, it really didn’t bother Hob. It had just been poor timing the night before, through no fault of Dream’s, and Hob felt awful that his lover got caught in the crossfire of a simple bad day.

So he sits patiently, back straight like a child in the principal's office, mentally rehearsing his apology. Time passes, and he’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he nearly misses the soft knock on his front door. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he stands to answer. He’s halfway to the door before he realizes what is happening, and he sprints the rest of the way.

It feels petty, but he figures Dream has earned a bit of pettiness given Hob’s behavior. Sure enough, when he throws the door open, it is Dream standing before him. He is standing straight and regal, as he always does, but Hob swears he is smaller than usual- shorter, thinner, more delicate. As statuesque as ever, but glass instead of marble.

“Hello Hob.”

Dream’s voice is carefully neutral, and Hob can’t help but wince, “Dream, thank you for coming.” He steps back, gesturing for Dream to enter, which he does after a brief moment of hesitation. As he closes the door, Hob takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to grovel to one of the forces of the universe. It’s not like he’s never gotten into a fight with a partner, he’s certainly had his fair share of screw-ups, but that doesn’t make it feel any better. Not to mention, there’s always the lingering fear of Dream not accepting his apology and simply storming off to a place Hob can’t follow.

Well, there was nothing for it but to try. So with one last steadying breath, Hob turned to face Dream.

“I would like to apologize.”

Hob blinked. His mouth was open, but it was Dream’s voice that rang through the room.

For a long moment they stared at each other in silence, and then Hob shook his head in confusion, “I-... what?”

Dream stiffened, his hands clasped regally in front of him and his eyes on the floor, “I wish. To apologize. For my behavior yesterday. I will do whatever you require of me to make amends.”

There was another pause while Hob gaped, feeling lost, “Wait, you’re not mad at me?”

“For what?” Dream tilted his head in question.

“For- for snapping at you! I yelled at you, for no reason! I should be apologizing to you!” Hob’s arms flailed as he explained, but Dream remained still and stoic.

“Nonsense.” He replied, “You did no wrong.”

And here, Hob frowns, his confusion of the situation shifting into concern. “Yes, I did,” he states slowly, “Dream, the way I acted wasn’t okay.”

“Why? You are within your rights to admonish me when I am at fault.”

“But you weren’t at fault!”

“Obviously I was, to invoke such ire from you.”

“No, no, no,” Hob waved his hands frantically, “That’s exactly my point. I was in the wrong here, because you didn’t do anything and I snapped anyway. And, and I was mean, it’s okay if you’re mad at me for that.”

Dream blinked slowly, expression blank and unchanging at Hob’s words. Hob ran his fingers through his hair, groaning in frustration and dropping down onto the couch, "Oh my God, I've never had to convince a partner to be upset with me before."

"And you do not have to now," Dream frowned, cautiously moving to sit beside him, "You are allowed to express your displeasure with me. I was the one who misstepped. Tell me what I must do for you to accept my apology. Please."

"You don't have anything to apologize for! That's what I'm saying! I need to apologize because I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that-”

“I would not begrudge you taking your frustrations out on me when I am the cause of such frustrations," Dream interrupted. His voice was even and cool, back straight as he sat still and regal. He was far too put together. Especially next to Hob who was literally pulling his hair out.

"No, see, that's-" Hob paused, breathing deeply and trying to at least somewhat compose himself.

"Okay. First of all, you weren't the cause of my frustrations. I'd had a bad day and snapped when I shouldn't have." Dream opens his mouth to argue but Hob cuts him off, "And secondly, even if you were the cause, that doesn't give me the right to be mean. We're in a relationship, that means we talk about these things. You’re allowed to be mad at me when I fuck up.”

Dream stares at him blankly, brows furrowing ever so slightly in confusion, and Hob throws his arms in the air, “Christ, it wasn’t this hard to make you mad when I called you lonely.”

It’s a low blow and Hob knows it, regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips, but if nothing else he hopes maybe Dream will finally snap back.

He doesn’t.

Lowering his head in shame, Dream seems to wilt in front of him, “Yes. It is precisely that which has lost me any right to shy from your retribution.”

Hob gaped in blatant horror, “You don’t lose the right to your feelings just because you messed up once-!”

“More than once,” Dream interrupts, his voice hardening, and he forces his eyes up to meet Hob’s gaze, “I have wronged you many times in our acquaintance. You have been kind and generous with me, but I have not forgotten that I have earned your retribution.”

It is perhaps not the best response, but all Hob can do is lean forward, put his head in his hands, and breathe deeply.

It’s not like he didn’t know Dream had some messed up ideas about relationships, but it’s still a lot to take in at once, especially after a day of bracing for something completely different. He was prepared for anger and offense. He was not prepared for this shame.

He realizes that he would take Dream’s pride over this any day.

“Dream,” he speaks slowly, turning back to look at where his lover is still sitting rigid and tense beside him, “I forgave you for that. I forgave you for all of it, a long time ago. There’s… there’s no scoreboard between us.”

He wants, very badly, to take Dream’s hands into his own. But a part of him feels like Dream might shatter if he touches him. Dream’s eyes search his face, and when he speaks, his voice is cold.

"It is not. Just you,” he says, “I have made many mistakes during my existence. I have hurt many people. I am greedy, and arrogant, and do not connect well with others. And I was blind to it, for so long. I know it took me too long to recognize that and to begin making amends, but I am trying to do better now,” Here his eyes drop, shame and sorrow and defeat drawing tears to the corners of his eyes, “I am not doing this right. I know I'm messing this up, and it is unfair of me to ask, but I would gladly give you anything if you would give me another chance."

“I’ll give you as many chances as you need,” Hob replies carefully, “but you don’t need one this time. You aren’t messing anything up. You haven’t done anything wrong. This time I messed up.”

“You did not-“

“Yes, I did,” Hob cut in firmly, "I'm not perfect. You know I'm not. Not every fight or argument is going to be your fault. I'm going to make mistakes too, and I'm not going to let you blame yourself for things that aren't your fault. And I definitely don’t want you to just…. let me hurt you.”

Dream blinks, and while his face remains blank, it’s becoming more obvious how much of an effort it’s taking him to keep it that way.

“Even if I deserve it?”

Despite himself, Hob stands in frustration, “You don’t deserve it!” He snaps.

And here, finally, Dream snaps back, “I have hurt you in the past-“

“That doesn’t mean I’m allowed to hurt you!” Hob interrupts, “Come on, you can be mad at me! You can have feelings when I mess up, and then we’ll work it out and move on, but don’t… don’t just wave it away.” There’s a long pause, and Hob asks, “If I mess up later, would that mean I lose the right to be mad at you?”

Dream snaps his head to meet his gaze, “That’s different.”

“How?”

“You’re different.”

“How?” Hob repeats, insistent.

Dream’s jaw tenses, grinding his teeth together as he looks at Hob with something between sorrow and frustration, “You are a person. You cannot hurt me the way I can- and have- hurt others. The rules are different for me because the consequences are different.” His hands are clenched into fists on his lap, his eyes darting to the side as he grinds out quietly, “I have more than proven that I do not learn when I am given leeway.”

There is a stretch of silence, Dream sitting tense and miserable while Hob stands and tries to find the words that will just make all of this better.

Finally, Hob moves to sit beside Dream again, ducking his head to try to catch Dream’s eye, “Being hurt isn’t a lesson for you to endure. Me being mean to you isn’t going to make you a better person or whatever.”

Dream still won't look at him, so he reaches out to lay a hand on one of his tightly clenched fists, “Dream… what are you afraid of?”

For a long moment, Dream simply stares down at where their hands are touching. Hob can feel the slightest tremor in his fingers as he slowly answers.

"Sometimes…” He falters, inhaling deeply before continuing, “Sometimes terrible things happen to good people." Here, he finally looks up to meet Hob's gaze, everything about him resigned and defeated, "You are a good person. I do not want to be the terrible thing that happens to you."

Hob feels his breath leave him like he’s been gut punched, “You’re not a ‘thing’. You’re not terrible, either. And I’m not as good as you think I am. I think, somewhere in there, you know that.”

“Hob-”

“I’ve committed atrocities. You know that, because you talked me out of committing them for longer, and that’s just the ones you heard about. I did a lot of things between our meetings, Love. I think I’m just… younger. Maybe I haven’t had the time to make a list as long as yours, but give it time.”

“Yes, you are younger. And already you are learning from your mistakes. I am ancient. My wrongs are ancient. And only now do I seek to be better. How monstrous would it be, then, to dare feel hurt by my punishment when I have so earned it?”

“I wasn’t punishing you! Not then, not now, not ever. Dream, you’re trying, so hard, I see that. We’re both just two bad people trying to be better, and I’ll forgive you your mistakes along the way if you’ll forgive mine. But I need you to see mine, first.”

There, again, he sees the way Dream’s jaw tenses, a slight shift like he’s grinding his teeth together. Hob realizes, in that moment, that the anger is there, tightly leashed and buried under the heavy weight of shame.

Feeling brave, he reaches out to cup Dream’s face in his hand, stroking his thumb along the tense line of his jaw, “Look, I’m not asking you to storm off again. I’d actually really rather you didn’t. I appreciate that you’re trying to change and react better than before, I do, I think it’s amazing. I think you’re amazing. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be upset with me at all.”

Dream releases a sharp exhale through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut. But he also leans a little heavier into Hob’s hand. He is slow to speak, gathering his words as well as the courage to speak them. Eventually though, he admits to Hob softly, “When you… reprimanded me, I was... Frightened. That I had managed to drive you away without even noticing,” his voice wavers and becomes impossibly softer, “That I managed to make you hate me despite my best efforts.” He swallows thickly before visibly steeling himself to continue, “And then. I was irritated, I suppose.” Opening his eyes, he looks at Hob, and there is frustration, and fear, and confusion, “I would have changed my behavior sooner had you but told me that it bothered you.”

“I know. I know you would,” Hob assures, “The truth is, it doesn’t bother me. Not usually. It was just poor timing and catching me in a bad mood.”

Humming, Dream’s expression is still wary, “I will abstain from arriving unannounced from now on.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I would rather,” Dream interrupts, “not risk catching you in a ‘bad mood’ again.” His voice is a little stronger, a little more of the frustration seeping through, more confidence building the more Hob keeps holding him through it.

Hob nods, giving him a self-deprecating smile, “That’s understandable.”

Furrowing his brows, Dream tilts his head, looking at Hob in awe, “You… truly forgive me?”

“Of course,” Hob replies with no hesitation, “I’ll always forgive you. I’m not dating your past, I’m dating you. Who you are now. Who you’re trying to be.”

Dream searches his face for a long minute, confused and suspicious and still handing his heart to Hob all the same. He nods, “I wish you had not shouted at me. And I forgive you for it.”

Hob smiles, his body sagging in relief as he leans forward to press their foreheads together, “Thank you.”

Looking at Dream, Hob gets the feeling he doesn’t truly understand. That he thinks Hob will change his mind or come to his senses, that this is just something else to get his hopes up and his guard down so it hurts more when it crumbles around him. Hob doesn’t think this one conversation will settle Dream into a balance between his pride and shame.

But they’ve got time.

And Hob’s no saint, so he’s certain there will be plenty of opportunities for them to forgive each other.

#the sandman #dreamling #my writing #I don't know I just needed it to be done lol #That moment when you realize Hob is 100% a Morpheus Apologist lololol

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pablitogavii · 1 year ago

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so i have an idea, if u like it it will be really nice to write something about it :))

so, the reader and gavi are on vacation with their friend, at night they are supposed to go out but the reader is hurt/sore because they visited the city and walked a lot, at night she says to gavi that she won’t go out, he tells her that he’ll stay home with her but she tries to convince him to go out, at the end they stay both at home because he is a lil Stubborn and it ends with them cuddling and gavi taking care of her

His Baby

"Ughh!" you said while plopping yourself down on the bed in exhaustion after spending the whole day cruising the city with Pablo and his friends.

"It was beautiful, wasn't it amor??" Pablo sat next to you smiling wide and you nodded your head although your feet had quite a different opinion at the moment.

It was definitely your fault since you choose beauty over comfort yet again and ended up wearing sandals that were definitely not made for walking all day at max speed. You had so many blisters that it hurt just looking at them. Mierda!

The next day, you woke up with Pablo kissing down your spine and sun caressing your face having finally re-charged your battery from last night.

"Breakfast is ready preciosa..we are waiting for you" he smiled kissing you one last time before leaving and you smiled thinking to yourself what a paradise you were living in right now.

Just when you were ready to start your day and get out of bed, the moment your feet hit the carpet the pain and soreness returned..yeah today will have to be a rest day for you.

Luckily the boys wanted to do a boat day which didn't require much movement and you were very happy that Aurora joined the party as well..you started to feel lonely as the only girl.

"And she just won't give it up! My god!" Aurora was telling you about some incident at the bar in Mallorca when Pablo interrupted kissing your back and making you giggle as the cold water hit your hot skin.

"Sorry to interrupt girls, but I just came to tell my girl that tonight we are going out to some new club in town..there will be live music and definitely lots of fun" he said and your initial thought was to smile but then you remembered your feet and the overall pain you felt.

You didn't want to ruin his mood so you decided to tell him when you were alone that you will have to pass on the plans tonight.

When the night fell and y'all returned to the apartment, Pablo went to take a shower dressing himself up before walking into your shared bedroom surprised to see you in your pajamas.

"Amor? Aren't you gonna get ready??" he said and you sighed getting up from the bed and walking up to him.

"My feet are still killing me from last night..those damn sandals ruined me..so I will stay in tonight but you go and have fun with your friends cariño" you said and he immediately shook his head. You knew how stubborn her gets.

"No way! Then I'll stay with you preciosa and they can go." he said about to take his shirt off but you stopped him.

"You wanted to go and you should go Pablo..I'll just watch a movie here and sleep early to rest my feet for tomorrow.." you said but he still took the shirt off following with his shoes.

"Great, you pick the movie and I'll get the popcorn!" he said and you giggled still not wanting him to stay if he wanted to go with his friends.

"Amor, I don't want to ruin your night.." you said and he walked closer to your raising your chin and making you look up at him.

"You think that having the whole apartment for ourselves is ruining my night princesa?? Think again, I can't wait!" he smirked and your rolled your eyes blushing at his playfulness while hitting his shoulder.

"Chico malo!" you say moving his hair from his forehead and he pulls you by your waist making your body glued to his.

"Solo para ti mi amor..." he smirked kissing your lips when Mario knocked before walking in.

"Uhh sorry to interrupt hermano pero you guys coming or?" he said and Pablo smiled down at you looking at his friend.

"Nah we're gonna stay tonight..but you guys have fun!" Pablo said and Mario nodded wishing you the fun night as well (ofc he would lol) before leaving with the rest.

A few hours later when the movie was long time done, you were curled up in Pablo's arms on the sofa while he ran his fingers up and down your back like he knew you loved kissing the top of your head every once in awhile...you couldn't think of a better way to spend your night. Your feet felt relaxed and soreness was slowly diminishing the more you rested.

"Amor, you asleep?" he said and you looked up with sleepy eyes but still wide awake blushing when you saw his adorable smile.

"I just wanted to say that I love you..I love you for coming on this trip with me..and for wanting to go with my friends..and for telling me to go to the club without you..for trusting me..I think I finally found my second half" he spoke and you felt your heart melt with every word that left his lips.

"I love you too cariño...muchisimo..thank you for staying with me" you smile and he leaned down kissing your lips lovingly before carrying you to your shared bedroom bridal style.

"Sempre mi amor..let's get some rest now" he said and you both got closer as you nuzzled your face into his neck taking in his familiar scent before slipping into beautiful sleep.

There will be A LOT more vacation sotries ;)

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #fc barca #fc barcelona #fc barça #gavi #gavigif #gavira #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavira #pablogavixreadersmut

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 14 days ago

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Attention! I am Out of Order until further notice. My 'Stupid People' filter needs cleaning & My 'Give A Damn' batteries funny T-Shirt

This t-shirt makes a bold statement with a mix of humor and honesty. The front features a cheeky "Attention!" followed by the declaration: "I am Out of Order until further notice. My 'Stupid People' filter needs cleaning & My 'Give A Damn' batteries have run out." It's the perfect way to show the world you're temporarily unavailable for nonsense or drama, offering a hilarious and relatable excuse for taking a step back. Whether you're feeling a little burned out or just need a break from the chaos, this shirt says it all with a wink and a laugh. Perfect for those days when you’re so done.

Get comfortable with our 100% cotton crew neck t-shirts. Made of 100% soft cotton for a smooth, breathable fit. Pre-shrunk cotton tees are perfect for layering or wearing alone. Lightweight fabric keeps you cool and dry so you can look great and feel great all day. The perfect tee shirt for a modern casual look. Not too long so you can wear these untucked with a pair of jeans or chinos. Looks great under a casual blazer and jeans for a relaxed Friday style. Stylish and versatile everyday crew neck tees are a wardrobe staple.

Care instructions: Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

Thank you for visiting Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations, we truly appreciate your support of small businesses. We also personalize our products, please reach out to us with any personalizing any of our products, additional fee's may apply.

Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com to view more products.

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#grannyandgrandpacustomcreations #grannyandgrandpa #tshirt #funnyshirt

Welcome to Granny’s Store! Discover a delightful collection of handcrafted goods, vintage-inspired apparel, and cozy home essentials that bring warmth and charm to your everyday life. Each item is thoughtfully curated, reflecting the love and care of a granny’s touch. We’ve got a fantastic selection of distressed flannels, cozy t-shirts, trendy tumblers, and so much more. Whether you’re looking for a laid-back outfit or a fun accessory, you’ll find something special here. Don’t forget to check out our seasonal items and unique finds that capture that charming, vintage vibe! Remember, Granny and Grandpa's Custom Creations is that "hidden" gem with unique, great quality, fun, gorgeous, innovative, and inexpensive gifts for your Loved Ones or yourself for your next shopping trip! Granny and Grandpa’s Custom Creations store offers something special for everyone. Whether you’re searching for a one-of-a-kind treasure or a heartfelt gift, you’ll find a warm, welcoming atmosphere that feels just like home. Step into Shop Granny Store online or in store and experience the magic of timeless treasures!

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delopsia · 10 months ago

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Rhett has never really gotten the whole Valentine's thing.

You noticed it the first February you spent together; he'd been tilting his head at the endless pink and red aisles, quietly asking you what the point of it all was. Why give chocolates and plushes on a specific day when you can do it year-round? What's so special about it all?

He says all that as if he doesn't participate in it, too. Bringing you plushes of adorable animals holding little red hearts, sweets and flowers, and anything else that reminded him of you. He may not understand it, but he's not about to let his feelings cause him to miss out on spoiling you with your favorite things.

This year, though, you've got an idea.

With the recent hustle and bustle around the ranch he's working at, Rhett hasn't been home as much as usual. And when he is, those pretty eyes are so damn sleepy that he's got no energy to look around and notice where you've begun stashing things.

A bottle of champagne because every time he sees it in the store, he wonders what it tastes like. Variety chocolates, too many boxes of candy hearts, a bath gift set because he's always bugging you to take a bath together. Chocolate-covered pretzels, cookies, and handmade candies from the little shop that just opened in town. Best of all, you've gotten your hands on a pink masturbation sleeve. So well colored that it practically disappears once you've tucked everything into the basket, tied off with a long red ribbon.

Rhett heads out the door before dawn on Valentine's Day, leaving you with his traditional kiss on the forehead and a small bundle of goodies on the bedside table, ready for you to find them when your eyes open. It's full of all your usual favorites, topped off with an oversized plush of a strawberry cow. He must have kept it hidden in his clothes because when you hug it to your chest, it smells like him.

His eyes were hardly open when he left the house, and they're much of the same when he stumbles through the front door sometime after seven, calling your name as he toes off his boots. The only reason he notices the rose petals and candles scattered across the floor, is because one of his shoes fell off the rack.

He's not entirely sure what to think. Poking at the tiny, battery-powered candles with his foot as he follows the trail you've created for him. Still calling out your name, unsure as to why you have yet to show yourself.

It's the basket that gets him to stop in his tracks. Adorably placed in the center of the bed, right next to your brand-new cow. Virtually silent as he shifts the items inside, a grin sprawling across his face as he takes in all of the things you've gathered for him.

Soft hands appear on his waist, leading the way as your arms wrap around him, "Happy Valentine's Day, cowboy."

"Y' got all this fer me?" He's already toying with one of the chocolates, trying his best to conceal the excitement that rushes through his system.

And so far, he hasn't noticed his new toy.

"Mhm," pressing your lips to the back of his neck.

You knew he would open that bath set first, sleepy eyes flickering between you and the bathroom as if to ask for one more gift. So what if you've already got the water good and warm, ready to go the moment you turn it back on? It's just a coincidence.

It's been a minute since you've watched him peel off his shirt, pale skin bearing a few more bruises than normal. A scattering of blue and purple across his ribs from the unbridled rage of a particularly fussy heifer. Green and yellow spots on his thighs, with an origin he doesn't quite recall, but lets you kiss them regardless.

The water is absurdly pink, and if you'd known there was glitter in this bath bomb, you would have chosen a different set. You'll be sparkling for weeks. But you've already settled into it; Rhett is situating his back against your chest, head resting against yours, and you can't bring yourself to complain. Especially not when he dares to bite into a nondescript chocolate, nose wrinkling as he realizes it's filled with artificial cherry.

"Ain't even the good kind," he grumbles, tossing it toward the trash bin. For once, his aim is perfect.

But his disappointment is short-lived. Cut short by the lips that appear on his naked shoulder, the bad one that never truly recovered from his rodeo wreck. Guiding yourself up the side of his neck, drinking in his pretty groan as his mouth meets with yours, albeit strained from the angle.

Your hands roam across his soft belly, daring to dip down to massage the insides of his thighs, just shy of his rapidly swelling cock. Rubbing up, up, up, to lightly trace your nails across his balls, then back down again. Those eyelashes are fluttering. Breathing a little quicker than he was before.

"Where did...where did you get..." stumbling over his own words, as your hand reaches off to the side and produces that little sleeve. Pale pink, textured on the inside, just opaque enough for you to see through it.

Getting lube on him while in the water is certainly a...process, but Rhett is so damn eager that he hardly seems to notice your struggle.

You know you've made a good decision when his hips buck up, water sloshing as he cries out, so surprised by the feel of this unassuming little toy. One of your hands splays out against his chest, holding him to you, can feel the way his heart jumps when you glide the toy across him again.

"Again," he babbles, pawing at your wrist, still pumping him, "do that, do that—hah!"

It's a wonder the water stays in the bath because he can hardly keep himself still. Squirming and involuntarily kicking his legs, clinging to your wrist one moment and squeezing the edge of the tub the next. Only manages to keep still when he's twisted and turned enough to jam his head into the crook of your neck, panting so heavily that he sounds like he's run a marathon.

You could string it out. Edge him until he can't hold back any longer, but the exhaustion in his bones suggests he can't take any more pushing this week. So when he starts whimpering about being close, begging and begging you to let him cum, you do. Marveling at the sight of his head tilting, eyes falling shut as he cums with a cry that echoes all throughout the house.

By the time you get him into bed, he's as limp as a damn noodle. Struggling to keep himself upright, damn near falling into the sheets the moment he's close enough. The only reason he doesn't fall asleep when his head hits the pillow is because he's too busy waiting for you to settle into his arms.

Then he falls asleep in the middle of his thank you. And maybe he's starting to get the point of this whole Valentine's thing because you wake up to the feeling of him kissing your thighs late in the morning. Smooches punctuated with lazy mutterings about how he wishes Valentine's Day lasted a whole week rather than just one day.

He makes the festivities last for an entire seven days, that's for sure.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #tw food #delgato's warmups

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valentoru · 3 months ago

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|| Limitless ||

[CHAPTER 13]

SYNOPSIS: Gojo Satoru, a big time artist, who’s known for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he goes. And you, the lead guitarist of an upcoming band, who’s absolutely certain that no one will ever love you. Through an accident in which you happened to kiss Gojo in a frantic state, you both decide, via convenience alone—and zero regard for both of your managers—to pull a fake dating stunt what could go wrong? Any press is good press…right?

PREVIOUS : MASTERLIST : NEXT

After the talk, you considered staying to talk to Geto but decided the ass-kissing could wait. So you said goodbye to Satoru and waited for Maki to wake up from her nap while contemplating drawing a dick on her face, then slowly heading with her to the recording booth.

When she finally woke up, you guys decided to go to get some food. You headed down into the lobby.

“So have a seminar to talk about Women in our industry, you know, since it’s overpowered with…penis. I’m also doing a few pop up events! And I wasn’t even the one who reached out first, it was the events that reached out to me.”

“Maki, this is amazing. You are amazing.”

“I know.” Maki winked, sliding her arm through yours. “What’s going on there?”

You squinted against the sun. The parking lot of the building was jammed with traffic. People blowing their horns and getting out of their cars, trying to figure out the source of the holdup. You and Maki walked around a line of vehicles stuck in the lot, until you ran into a group of people.

“Someone’s battery died, and it’s blocking the exit line.” Someone, you weren’t sure who, said, some rolling their eyes, some bounding impatiently on their feet. One pointed at a red truck stuck sideways in the most inconvenient turn.

You recognised it as Nathan’s, the other receptionist.

“I pitch tomorrow—i need to go home to prepare. And why the fuck is Nathan just stood there leisurely talking with Gojo? Do they want us to bring them tea and cucumber sandwiches?”

You looked around, searching for Satoru’s tall frame and blinding hair.

“Oh yeah. There’s Gojo,” Maki said. You looked back where she was pointing, just in time to see Nathan get back behind the wheel and Satoru jogging around the truck.

“What is he—” was all you managed to say, before he came to a stop, put his hands on the back of the truck, in neutral, and started…

Pushing.

His shoulders strained his shirt. The firm muscles of his upper back visibly shifted and tended under the black fabric as he bent forward and rolled several tons of truck across…quite a bit of distance into the closest empty parking space.

Oh.

There was some applause and whistling from bystanders when the truck was out of the way, and a coup of people clapped him and some shouted as the line of cars started moving out of the lot.

“Fucking finally,” you heard one of them say from behind you, and you stood there, blinking, a little shocked. Had you imagined it? Had Satoru really just pushed a giant truck all by himself? Was he an alien from planet Krypton who moonlighted as a superhero?

“N/N go give him a kiss.”

You whirled around, abruptly reminded of Maki’s existence. “What? No. No. I’m good. I just said goodbye to him a minute ago and—”

“N/N why don’t you want to kiss your boyfriend?”

Ugh. “I…it’s not that I don’t want to. I just—”

“Dude, he just moved a truck. By himself. On uphill ground. He deserves a damn kiss.” Maki shoved you and made a shooing motion.

You clenched your teeth and headed in Satoru’s direction. Wishing you’d gone ahead and drawn twenty dicks all over Maki’s face. Maybe she did suspect that you were faking your relationship with Satoru. Or maybe she just got a kick out of pressuring you into PDA’ing, that ingrate. Either way, if this was why one got for masterminding and intricate fake-dating scheme that was supposed to benefit a friends love life, then maybe—

You halted abruptly.

Satoru’s head was bent forward, white hair covering his forehead as he wiped the sweat from his eyes with the hem of his shirt. It left a broad strip of flesh visible on his torso, and—it was nothing indecent, really, nothing unusual, just some fit guys midriff, but for some reason you could help staring at Satoru Gojo’s uncovered skin like it was a slab of Italian marble and—

“Y/N?” He said, and you immediately averted your eyes. Crap, he’d totally caught your staring. First you’d forced him to kiss you, now your were ogling him like some perv in the parking lot and—

“Did you need anything?”

“No I…” you felt your cheeks go crimson.

His skin, too, was flushed from the effort of pushing, and his eyes were bright and clear, and he seemed…well, at least he didn’t seem unhappy to see you.

“Maki sent me to give you a kiss.”

He froze half way through wiping his hands on his shirt. And then his said. “Ah.” In his usual natural, unreadable tone.

“Because you moved the truck. I—I know how ridiculous that sounds. I know. But I didn’t want her to get suspicious, and there are workers here too maybe they’ll tell the chair and it will be two birds with one stone and I can leave if you—”

“It’s okay, Y/N. Breathe.”

Right. Yes. Good suggestion. You did breath and the action made you realise you hadn’t done that in a while which in turn made you smile up at Satoru—who did his mouth twitch thing back at you. You were really starting to get used to him. To his size, his distinctive way of being in the same space as you.

You squirmed. “So…should we hug or something?”

“Oh.” Satoru looks at his hands and down at himself. “I don’t think you want to do that. I’m pretty gross.”

Before you could stop yourself you studied him from head to toe, taking in his body, his broad shoulders the way his hair was curling around his ears. He didn’t look gross. Not even to you, who was usually not a fan of dudes or dating or any of this.

Not gross.

“Should we just kiss?” You widened your eyes, you’d clearly caught him off guard too, you could tell by the way his expression tightened ever so slightly.

“If you think that…if your friend is watching.”

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “But we don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“Unless you do want to.” Your palms felt damp.and clammy so you surreptitiously wiped them on your pants. “And by “want to” I mean if you think it’s a good idea.” It was so not a good idea. It was a horrible idea. Like all your ideas.

“Right.” He looked past you and toward Maki who was probably in the middle of making an entire Instagram Story on you. Or live tweeting this whole event. “Okay, then.”

“Okay.”

He stepped a little closer, and really, he was not gross. How someone this sweaty, someone who’s just pushed a truck, still managed to smell good was a topic worth of a Ph.D dissertation for sure. Earths finest scientist should have been hard at work on this.

“Why don’t I…” you inched into him slightly, and after letting your hand hover for a moment you rested it on Satoru’s shoulder. You pushed yourself up in your toes angling your head up toward him. It helped very little, as your were still not tall enough to reach his mouth, so you tried to get more leverage by tipping your hand on his arm, and immediately realised you were basically using him. Which was the exact things he asked you not to do a second ago. Crap.

“Sorry, too close? I didn’t mean to—”

You would have finished the sentence if he hadn’t closed the distance between then and just—kissed you. Just like that.

You had kissed. You had kissed—twice now. Twice. Not that it mattered no one cared. But twice. Plus the lap. Earlier today. Again not that it mattered.

“I’ll see you around right? Next week?”

He lifted his fingers to his lips, then let his arm drop his side. “Yes. On Thursday.”

It was Monday now. Which meant you were going to see each other in 3 days. Which was fine, no matter when or how often you met— “yep see you Thurs—Hey, what about the picnic?”

“The—oh.” He rolled his eyes looking a little more like himself. “Right. That fu—” he stopped short. “That picnic.”

You grinned. “It’s tomorrow.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“You’re still going?”

He gave you a look that clearly stated; it not like I have a choice even thought I’d rather had my nails extracted one by one. With pliers.

You laughed. “Well. I’m going, too.”

“At least there’s that.”

“Are you taking Geto?”

“Probably. He actually likes people.”

“Okay. I can kiss ass a little bit. And you and I can show off how dearly and committed we are to the chair. You’ll look like a wingless bird. No flight risk whatsoever”

“Perfect. I’ll bring a counterfeit marriage license to casually drop at his feet.”

You laughed and waved goodbye then jogged up to Maki.

TAGLIST(33/50): @bbmsxlene @lunavelha @satoryaa @tranzumaki @k-kkiana @luvkvni @lysaray @kalulakunundrum @arysbruv @r4veeen @stillnotherapy @catobsessedlady @colortheoryrocks @minzxec @dazqa @packsvlog @luvvmae @simplysm1le @mintfyi @fushigurosgirl @littlecritteryay @fackeraccount @astro-stars @lavender-hvze @miizuzu @rayrayline @kanaojacksonofc @letsmyy @serenadesvt @art-n-rot @aastrobliss @herdemisee @tikideedee

AN:

As I write this authors note I am listening to “it wasn’t me” by shaggy.

Please can you guys like blow up my inbox or smth this acc is so dead when im not uploading a limitless chapter 🙁

#⤷limitless #jjk #jjk smau #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen smau #maki zenin #yuta okkotsu

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