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notjustjavierpena · 1 year ago

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Swelter

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A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh��” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

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joonie-beanie · 10 months ago

Text

Hat Guy's ASMR Commissions: S Tier | [Scaramouche/Wanderer x Reader]

Summary: Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session] In which your asshole best friends order a commission from your favorite ASMR artist, and it's a lot more NSFW than you were expecting. "From this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy. But fair warning–I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.” Content: Smut, Guided Masturbation, Toy Use, Name Calling, Degradation/Humiliation, fem!reader Word Count: 6.5k Note: this is kind of an untraditional smut, so just keep that in mind lol

“Sweetheart…you really need to find some way to relax.”

“I agree. If you don’t release your tension, it’ll do a number on your health.”

You really appreciate Lisa and Yae being so concerned for you, but…

“I know. It’s just…not that easy for me.”

By now, in theory, you should have figured out some better coping mechanisms and ways to destress, but alas.

Taking a book from the return bin, Lisa scans it, and then places it onto the go-back cart.

“Well, have you tried getting off?”

Her suggestion makes you jerk, your head swiveling as you glance around the library to see if anyone nearby has overheard. At your side, Yae giggles.

“Calm down…finals have just ended. No one is in the library anymore—they’re out partying.”

You sigh.

You suppose she’s right. The only reason you three are here is because Lisa is working the closing shift, and because Yae had insisted that you come along to the library with her to keep Lisa company.

“Traditional porn, a good adult novel, ASMR—all would be good options,” Lisa continues.

“I’m not really into porn right now, and I don’t think I have the bandwidth to focus on a book,” you say, resting your cheek in your palm. “As for ASMR…I’m not a big fan. I’ve really only discovered one creator that I like…”

“Oh?”

Now that piques their interest.

“What’s their name?”

“He goes by “Hat Guy” on twitter,” you tell them. “He mostly just…posts audio responses to dumb takes, or makes ASMR mocking other ASMR trends, but his voice is nice, and he has a small fan base…despite him kind of being a little shit.”

“How cute,” Lisa laughs while Yae pulls out her phone.

“Well, then…since it sounds like he doesn’t have any relaxing content, maybe you should just go home and take a nice bath. Did you ever use that bath bomb I got you for your birthday?”

“No,” you mumble sheepishly. At your side, Yae taps your knee.

“Lisa is right. Go home and have a bath. I’ll keep her company until she’s done.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you sure…? I just got here like half an hour ago and now you want me to go home?”

“I just think some “you” time would be good,” she tells you with a smile. You pout your lips, but ultimately decide that…maybe she’s right.

“Fine, I’ll head home and rest, then.”

“Good girl,” Yae responds, patting your ass when you bend over to grab your backpack. You narrow your eyes at her, but aren’t truly mad.

“Be careful on your walk home~,” Lisa says as you start towards the exit. You wave at them both over your shoulder, and then leave the building.

A few seconds after your departure, Lisa turns to Yae.

“Alright, what did you find that you didn’t want Y/N to know about?”

Yae grins, loving that Lisa has already caught on.

“Look—”

She gets up from her seat and leans over to show Lisa her phone screen.

“I found Hat Guy’s twitter and saw that he’s accepting commissions, and look at one of the options~”

She points to something, and Lisa’s eyes hurriedly scan the text in front of her.

When she has finished reading, she grins.

“Oh, my…well, that’s certainly tempting.”

“I was thinking maybe we can give it to Y/N as a… “you survived finals! Use this to relax” type present. Since she’s always doing thoughtful things for us when we’re swamped.”

Lisa smiles, putting a thoughtful finger to her lips.

“I agree. She’s brought us so many cups of tea over the last few months. It’s the least we can do.”

“Good,” Yae says with a nod, immediately clicking on the commission link.

“She deserves a little…fun.”

Between the end of the previous semester, and the start of the new one, your University has generously given you a long weekend.

4 days, to be exact.

Most of this long weekend you spend doing the chores you’ve put off, and working a few shifts at your job.

It’s only by some grace that you end up with Sunday off. One final day to try and relax before classes begin tomorrow…

You do your best to make the most of it—mindlessly scrolling tiktok, folding some clothes, debating if you should order food out, and ultimately deciding against it, since you just went grocery shopping…

All in all, it’s a pretty mundane day.

…at least, until the icon for your email app appears at the top of your phone screen, and you swipe down the notification to see the title:

Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session]

Immediately, you freeze.

Surely, this is a spam email that’s somehow made it through the cracks. Because you definitely haven’t ordered such a thing.

Yet, despite your doubts at the validity of the email, you still click on it—wanting to read the contents before banishing it to your spam folder.

Dear Recipient,

Attached to this email is an mp3 file available for you to download. This file was requested and paid for by “Fox and Witch”, and is being sent to you directly at their request.

Please do not distribute this anywhere else on social media, as this is my copyrighted content.

If there is any issue with the quality of the file, please let me know.

Have fun.

-Hat Guy

Note:

Toys Needed = Dildo, Clitoral Vibrator or Wand

…you must have knocked your head on something earlier and are currently hallucinating.

Because there is NO WAY there’s an email from HAT GUY in your inbox. And that said email is for…for…

Well, you remember seeing a link on his profile about commissions, but you’d never clicked on it to see more than that. There’s no chance he’s out here telling people how to get off, though, right…?

With a warm face, you scan the email again. And then a third time.

You can only assume “Fox and Witch” are Yae and Lisa. And you did just tell them that you like Hat Guy’s content…

You bite your lip, staring at the mp3 file.

There’s just no way…

Hesitantly, you click on it.

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

Oh…fuck.

Something in your tummy flips.

That’s him, alright.

You’ve never heard him talk like that before, but it’s definitely him…you could never mistake that haughty, belittling tone.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your gaze once again finding the title of the email.

Guided Masturbation.

If you’re not wrong, that means if you hit play, and keep listening, it’ll probably be a lot of Hat Guy telling you what to do…how to touch yourself.

Just thinking about such a thing makes more blood rush to your head—embarrassment blooming in your chest.

Sure, the idea of him bossing you around isn’t exactly unappealing. You’re sure he’d be…less than nice, and maybe even a little sadistic, and perhaps call you a few rude names, but—

You groan and place your phone face down on the table beside you.

“Nope, I can’t—I—”

Standing up from your couch, you trudge into your kitchen.

It’s dinner time—you need to make dinner.

You try to keep your thoughts from straying to your temporarily abandoned phone, and the email that’s sitting in your inbox—but it’s literally impossible.

Still, you manage to cook yourself a meal, and even partake in a little alcoholic drink. (Just because you’re treating yourself, and definitely not because you want to ease your nerves a bit.)

Once you’ve finished eating, you clean all your dishes, and then return to the couch. Your gaze strays to your phone, but you don’t pick it up—instead deciding to grab the TV remote.

You make it approximately 25 minutes into a movie before you can’t take it anymore.

Hitting the pause button, you throw the remote on the couch beside you and then snatch up your phone—alighting from the couch.

You grab your headphones on the way to your bedroom, and pop them into your ears only after you’ve gathered your dildo and vibrator.

Maybe this audio won’t be as hot as you’re assuming, and you’ll end up not wanting to touch yourself, but…better to have everything prepared just in case, right?

Taking a deep breath, you hit play.

The track restarts from the beginning.

“I also hear you’re quite the little masochist—but I could have assumed that, considering it’s me that you’re soaking your panties over. Just another slut who wants to be bullied, huh.”

You huff at his words, glaring at your phone screen.

Did Lisa and Yae tell him your kinks or something?? Those bitches.

“Well, you’re in luck, because from this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy.”

Dammit, why is he right—

“But fair warning—I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.”

With a shaking finger, you pause the audio.

You hate to admit it, but his words—the way he’s speaking to you—is already making you wet.

You really, truly want him to bully you, and use you like a little toy.

So, guess that means you’re doing this.

Throwing any caution and shame to the wind, you hit the play button again.

“Now…where to begin? I always like to start with an inspection. Take off your clothes, but leave your panties on. I’m not going to bid your needy pussy any attention just yet.”

You obediently do as he says, stripping yourself of your clothing until you’re left only in your panties.

“It’s unfortunate I’m not there to survey those titties in person, so you’ll just have to feel them up for me. Go ahead and grope yourself. Take a minute and massage your chest…I want to see if you’ll get wet from that alone. Although, you’re probably wet already just from my voice, aren’t you, slut?”

You click your tongue at that last part, (hating that he’s right), but nonetheless bring your hands to your chest.

You cup your titties, and begin squeezing them—feeling the soft flesh beneath your fingers.

“Good, keep going—squeeze a little harder now. Ah…I bet your nipples want to be touched, huh? Start teasing them, then—just enough to get them hard. I’ll give you 10 seconds—that should be enough.”

For some reason, the challenge of accomplishing a task within a certain time limit makes your pussy throb, and very quickly, you move your pointer fingers over your nipples—rubbing them lightly, and coaxing them to a peak.

You’re ashamed to admit it, but they manage to get hard in the 10 second pause he gives you…

“Wow, look at that…what greedy titties you have—responding as I say, eager to be played with. Pinch your nipples and roll them between your fingers. Find the motion that feels best, and do it over and over again, until I tell you to stop.”

Resting your breasts in your palms, you pinch your nipples between your fingers—rolling and tugging them.

Your eyes flutter shut as you touch yourself, each purposeful little tweak of your nipples causing your spine to twitch, and your pussy to clench.

It’s been too long since you’ve touched yourself like this…

By the time Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once more, your nipples have started to get sore.

“Okay, stop there. I bet your cunt has started quivering, but I hope you know it’ll still be a while before I give you the chance to cum…unless, you somehow managed to orgasm from playing with just your titties? If that’s the case, congratulations! You’re the most needy and pathetic whore I’ve played with. So pathetic that I’ll give you a pass, and won’t even punish you for cumming without permission.”

The thought of being able to cum from nipple play alone makes you feel even more aroused, much to your chagrin—

“Now, let’s inspect that dirty pussy of yours. Spread your legs, and pull your panties down to your knees. I want you to stare at the crotch of your panties and feel ashamed at the wet spot I know is there.”

Taking a deep breath, you hook your fingers around your panties and tug them down your thighs.

As you spread your feet apart, you end up staring at the crotch of your panties—your lips pressing together when you notice there is, indeed, a very noticeable wet spot.

“Next, bend over. As low as you can go, with your legs still apart. I want to see everything.”

Locking your fingers together, you hesitate for a brief second before you bend over—feeling a strain in your leg muscles as you hit the point where you can’t bend anymore.

In this position, you know that you’re on full display.

“Look at you, presenting yourself to me…you really don’t have any shame, do you? If I were there, I’d be grabbing you and forcing you open wider, but since I’m not, you can do it for me! Grab your ass cheeks with both hands, and spread.”

Breathing a little shakily, you do your best to reach behind you and spread yourself. You feel your asshole clench as you do so, and the involuntary action maddens you, considering Hat Guy’s next words are—

“Such a tight little hole…I bet it’s twitching.”

“Is it nervous, or hoping for an intrusion? Either way, anal is not the objective of today’s session, so let’s move back to your pussy. Go ahead and spread your folds with your hand. You have permission to bend over with your chest to your bed, if you feel your blood rushing to your head from bending down so low. And if you're not by your bed…where the fuck are you listening to this audio? In your car, or a bathroom stall? Pervert.”

That little quip at the end makes you smile, even as you stand up and move yourself to your bed.

You find it a little endearing how he’s bossing you around, but still managing to be somewhat considerate. You suppose maybe there is more to him than just being a brat on the internet.

Anyway—

Reaching one hand back between your legs, you slide your fingers between the folds of your pussy and spread them—opening yourself up as if he were there to inspect you.

“Now, rub your fingers at your entrance—feel how slick you’ve gotten…honestly, you should feel ashamed. Getting so wet for a no-face internet stranger.”

Sure, your panties were a little wet, but that doesn’t mean—

You move your fingers to your entrance—freezing at the amount of sticky arousal you feel.

You...honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve gotten this wet.

“Smear the slick around your pussy, and make sure to get your clit. That’s where we’re headed next.”

You do as he says, perhaps a smidge overly excited that you now seem to be entering the main course.

As your fingers ghost over your clit, your pussy shudders.

“Bet you just clenched in excitement, huh?”

How does he fucking know—?!

“I'll be nice and will let you use two fingers. Press the pads of your fingers to your clit, and start making circular motions. Slow. 1…2…3…just like that.”

Breathing deep, you begin rubbing your clit with your fingers—repeating his count in your head, and following his pace.

With each pass of your fingers, your walls squeeze tighter.

“You probably want to rush, or grind your hips on your fingers…but you shouldn't be acting so desperate just yet, so be a good girl and keep going.”

Huffing, you obey his command,

He goes silent for a few beats, really giving you a minute to continue hopelessly teasing yourself.

By the time he next speaks, a needy exhale is leaving your lips—heady arousal truly being to pool in your lower tummy.

“Now you can go faster. Rub your clit to the beat of your heart. I assume it's racing, so you should be moving your hand a bit faster than before.”

You haven’t really noticed before now, but your heart is certainly beating much faster than normal…

The steady, yet swift thump of your heart is felt throughout your body the more you focus on it, and you quickly adjust your pace.

A breathy little sigh leaves your lips—your brows pinching together.

You want to cum.

“I wonder if you're close already, just from your fingers on your clit…haha. If you are, remember—you don't get to cum until I say so. So if you're close to cumming, edge yourself. Get right to the edge of your orgasm, and then stop. I'll give you 10 seconds after that to collect yourself, but then you have to keep going.”

Oh, fuck…

You suppose you should have realized that edging might be part of the equation, especially during a 30 minute session.

And, unfortunately, the thought of edging yourself for him makes you even hornier—pushing you closer to your first climax—or, well, edge.

“I bet you're probably thinking that 10 seconds isn't very long…that when you start again, you'll still be right at the brink of your orgasm, and will have to keep edging over, and over…hah, well…that's your own fault for being so hopeless.”

“Now, I'll let you set the pace. Find the rhythm and motion against your clit that makes you feel the best…you're going to keep that up for 1 minute—and remember, no cumming.”

Dammit—

By now, your lips are fully parted—quick little breaths fanning in front of your face and warming the sheets of your mattress.

You don’t want to edge, you want to cum, but he won’t let you—

“Also, why don't you go ahead and count aloud? I assume you're in private, so it shouldn't be an issue to let out your voice. And if you're not, well…I guess people will get to hear what a debauched whore you are.”

If this were 10 minutes ago, you’d surely blush and hesitate to follow his command.

But now…now you’re a little closer to being the debauched whore he’s calling you.

“I'll count with you so you don't rush it. 60…59…58…57—”

With headphones in, you hear your own voice in your head—mingling with his.

His, unwavering, with a hint of mockery. Yours…quiet, and struggling to stay on beat.

You clit throbs beneath your fingers, and there’s a familiar flutter of your walls, despite your pussy currently being empty.

You’re getting close.

“I can only imagine how sinful you look right now…oh, right. Where was I? Hmm…let's just pick up from 30.”

Motherfucker—

You let your face drop into your sheets, your thighs tightening and knees shaking.

Fuck, you wanna cum. You know you can’t—know it’s not allowed yet, but—!

“5…4…3…2…1. Stop moving your hand.”

Perfect timing. Right at the edge of an orgasm—you pull your hand away.

You take a second to try and catch your breath while ignoring the unfulfilled ache between your legs.

“Your pussy must be throbbing, huh? Lucky for you, as your benevolent master, I’ll let you stuff it full. Grab your dildo and get on your bed on your knees.”

“Also, I assume you're soaked by now, but if not, and you need additional lubrication, use lube.”

You glance behind you at your dresser, where your bottle of lube sits, but ultimately don’t grab it.

By now, you’re sure you can do without.

Grabbing your dildo, you climb onto your bed, and obediently get on your knees.

“Now, sit up and position the dildo beneath you. Rub the head between your folds, and then settle it at your entrance.”

You do as he says—a shiver of excitement raking up your spine as the tip of your dildo unexpectedly flicks against your clit while you get it into position.

“I'm going to give you 3 seconds to take it fully inside of you…What? I did say we'll be stuffing you full, and with how needy you clearly are, I figured I'm doing you a favor by letting you take it all in!”

Oh. That’s—

“So, I'll count to three. Oh, and if your dildo is too big, and you're scared to sink down onto it all at once, well…that's your own fault for biting off more than you can chew. But, I'm sure that greedy pussy will take anything it can get.”

It will.

“Ready?”

You take a trembling breath.

“3, 2, 1—!”

In one swift motion, you spread your thighs and sink down onto the dildo.

When the head bumps against the deepest part of you, you can’t help but gasp—the sound positively lewd.

“Ahhh…fuck. You made a cute sound, didn't you? How precious…now you're stuffed to the brim with dick, as you should be.”

Yes, this is exactly how you’re meant to feel…just a little slut who will do anything to cum for him.

Yet, despite his harsh instructions, he seems to pause for a second, giving you a chance to acclimate to the intrusion.

How cute.

“Why don't we start slow…I want you to lift your hips until just the tip of the dildo is inside of you, and then grind back down on it. Up…and down…up—”

To aid in the motion, you place your hands flat on the mattress in front of you, and then begin moving your hips.

Up…and down…

Your walls clench around the dildo, practically begging for more, but the man currently using you as his personal toy clearly isn’t inclined to give you such a thing.

At least, not immediately.

If you had to guess, he makes you continue at this slow, teasing pace for at least 2 minutes—your muscles beginning to strain as you resist going any faster.

Then, his voice fills your ears once again. You nearly sigh with relief.

“I hope your thighs aren't burning yet, because now we're going to pick up the pace. Imagine the gallop of a horse's hooves. I want you to grind on each downbeat. No need to make big motions—just grind on your dildo how you'd grind your pussy on my cock if I was there.”

If he were here, you’d wanna grind on his dick until he’s moaning louder than you are—

“Fuck…”

Fingers curling into the sheets, you find your new rhythm—the sound of your wet pussy beginning to fill the quiet room outside your headphones.

Sweat starts to bead on your brow—the arousal inside of you searing hotter, and your muscles getting tighter.

“I wonder if you can cum from internal stimulation alone…try to find your g-spot if you haven't already. I want you to bully it with your dildo.”

You can practically hear the grin in his words.

Repositioning yourself, you find the angle that better allows you to rub that sensitive little spot inside you.

Almost immediately, a whine rips from your throat.

“Now…I'm going to issue you a challenge. I'll count down from 60 seconds again. During that 60 seconds, you're free to cum. So try your best, okay, slut?”

Please, you want to cum, but you don’t know if 60 seconds will be enough—

“60…59…58…”

Dammit—

With his challenge invigorating you, you continue messily grinding your hips.

Each pass of your dildo against your g-spot causes your pussy to shiver, and your thighs to shake—your orgasm creeping closer.

“33…32…31…”

A desperate sound slips past your lips, your eyebrows knitting together.

You want to cum.

You want to cum, but—

You drop down onto your dildo roughly, almost in a pouting manner.

You need more time.

As soon as your climax finally begins to build—your walls clenching down on your dildo—Hat Guy reaches the end of his countdown.

“3…2…1…so…did you cum? Either way, I'm sure your legs are shaking. I wouldn't doubt that your sheets are getting soiled by your arousal, either.”

“Well, whether you came or not, don't worry—there's still more opportunities to orgasm yet to come! That being said, set your dildo to the side, and grab your vibrator instead.”

Exhaling, you manage to lift up your hips, and your dildo slips out of you.

It flops onto your sheets, glistening with your arousal.

Your pussy mourns the loss.

Setting your dildo to the side, you grab your vibrator instead.

“You can go ahead and lay on your back. I'll give your knees a break…isn't that nice of me? You should say “thank you”.”

You clench your jaw as you roll onto your back, your eyes squinting at the ceiling.

There’s no way he’s serious, right? Counting is one thing, but thanking someone who isn’t here?

“Huh? Did you think that was just a suggestion? Go on.”

You wet your lips with your tongue.

“...thank you.”

There’s a brief second of silence, and then—

“...pfft, hahaha! If you actually did just say it aloud, you're more of an obedient people pleaser than I thought. What a precious little cock-sleeve.”

You want to punch him—

“Anyway, I haven't let you cum from your clit yet. I bet by now it's engorged and begging for attention…go ahead and put your vibrator on your clit. Turn it on low.”

The fact that even just touching your clit causes you to jolt proves that his words are correct.

Hitting the power button, you turn your vibrator on a low setting, and almost instantly—the orgasm that had started to fade away flares back to life.

“Good…I'll let you keep it there for a little while. Actually…I'm gonna go get some water. God knows how upset you'd be if my voice suddenly gave out and I couldn't give you permission to cum—”

You hear the sound of a chair being alighted from, and footsteps padding away from the mic.

“This little motherfucker—,” you pant, your chest heaving.

You gently rub your vibrator around your clit—hoping that doing so will help you delay the orgasm that’s building—but it’s impossible to avoid.

After another minute, you can’t put it off any longer.

Your body tenses, your pussy tightening, and—

You tear the vibrator away from your clit.

If he were here, you think you’d honestly start to beg him for mercy. Of course, you’re sure he’d say that’s practically your first true edge, and you’re just being a little baby, but still.

You start the countdown from 10 in your head, and once it’s done, put your vibrator back on your clit.

Your entire body jolts as the pleasure that had been denied snaps back to attention.

You’re gonna have to edge again—

“How are you holding out? Did you edge at all—just from the vibrator being on low? At the very least, I bet you're squirming and panting.”

“Now, listen closely. I'm going to make you an offer.”

If his offer involves you cumming, you’ll do whatever it takes.

“I'm going to let you cum with the vibrator still on low—assuming you can. This time I'll be generous and will give you 90 seconds, even. But here's the catch. At the end of this session, you will be cumming. So if your begging cunt blots out any logic in your brain, and you decide to cum now, and then feel it's “too much” later, well. That'll be your own fault. Even if you're overstimulated, you'll be cumming again, so choose wisely.”

“Either way, you need to keep the vibrator on your clit for another 90 seconds. You just need to decide if you're cumming or edging. Get ready. To spice it up, this time I'm not counting aloud—I'll just tell you when to stop. So if you're planning on cumming, try not to waste any time. Because if I say stop and you're right there, I doubt you’ll be very happy. Now, begin.”

Risking an overstimulated orgasm after this is a dangerous game, but—

You press the vibrator harder against your clit.

You need to cum—you don’t care about anything else right now.

Your free hand grabs at your breast—your toes curling, and your heart racing.

Your back arches off the bed, a symphony of miniscule whines and gasps falling from your lips.

Then, the tension inside of you reaches its limit, and snaps.

Your voice catches in your throat—your body spasming as waves of pleasure rock you.

You keep the vibrator on your clit to draw them out as long as you can, but after a few long beats, Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once again.

“Stop—that's time. So…did you cum? I wish I could see the state of you…I bet you're starting to look all fucked out. We're already at the 20 minute mark, after all.”

You can’t believe it’s already been 20 minutes. Yet, at the same time, can’t believe you’re not already closer to the end.

“Now, I did say you'd be cumming again, so why don't you go ahead and put your vibe on high? Let's try and force it out of you.”

It’s fine…it’s totally fine.

Turning your vibrator on high will be totally fine.

You move the toy back to your clit and push the button until the vibrations are much more intense than before.

Almost immediately, heat rushes through your body—stemming from the still recovering nerve ending on your clit.

You’re over-sensitive. Fuck.

And yet…your pussy still flutters—your muscles tensing once again as another orgasm begins to build.

“Ahh, I bet you're squirming like a pathetic little worm. Is it too much? Do you want to beg me to let you stop?”

“Your toes are curling, aren't they? I wish I could hear you and see you panting like a bitch in heat. Should I throw you a bone? Would that satisfy that sad cunt of yours?”

You are writhing, and panting, and every other filthy thing he’s pegged you as. But—you don’t want to stop. You’re too far in now—your whole body shaking, and your breaths coming quick as the vibrator on your clit overwhelms you.

It’s overwhelming, but you can’t stop chasing that high. You—

“Actually…that's not a bad idea. Stop—now.”

Despite not wanting to, you immediately yank the toy away.

You hear yourself whining, unable to help it.

“Hopefully you didn't cum in the last 30 seconds. If so…whoops~”

You wish you could kick him.

“This final orgasm is going to be our grand finale, so we should really let the sparks fly. And maybe your juices, depending on how hard you cum.”

“Grab your dildo—shove it in.”

You scramble to grab it—your arm darting to the side to recover the dildo you’d discarded a short while ago.

As soon as you have it, you spread your legs and press the head at your entrance—stuffing it in without any preamble.

A pleasant sigh leaves you as that full feeling returns.

“You're going to fuck yourself with it—however fast or slow, I don't care. And at the same time, turn your vibrator back on high.”

You can tell where this is going, and you honestly think it may kill you, but you follow his instructions nonetheless.

Turning the vibrator on high, you place it back on your clit and then begin fucking yourself with the dildo.

Almost immediately, involuntary sounds slip out of you—your body writhing against the sheets.

The overwhelming strength of your vibrator on your clit now partnered with the messy rubbing of your dildo between your walls…you’re truly becoming the mess he promised to make you.

“Oh, and just so things don't end too soon, you need to hold out for at least one minute. I'll let you know once you have permission to cum.”

You hardly think it’s fair that he’s saying this now, considering you’ve already started fucking yourself, but even so, you want to listen—want to be a good girl who does what he says, and only cums when permitted.

Holding out for a whole minute when your cunt is already starting to spasm—your clit feeling like it’s on fire—is certainly going to be a challenge, though.

“You know…I bet if this were a live call, I'd be able to hear how wet your pussy is. You're probably gripping onto that dildo so tightly…as if it's a real cock that you're begging to properly breed you.”

If he were here you wonder how he’d fuck you. Certainly hard enough that you’d be able to hear the slap of his balls against your pussy—

“You must be panting, huh? So ready to cum…I wonder if you’d be obedient enough to cum when I say. Why don’t we try? We’re getting close to a minute, after all.”

Oh, fuck.

You’ve never cum on command before, but you want to for him.

“C’mon, princess, I know you can do it…keep going…get yourself right there—”

Your chest shudders, and tears blot your eyes.

You’re trying. Everything feels so hot.

The arousal in your tummy swells—tightening up, and searing your insides.

“Cum.”

A sob rips from your chest, and you grind your dildo against your g-spot one final time, before your body obeys, and releases.

With the vibrator on high, this orgasm is much more intense than the last.

Your breath catches, your spine curving, and your hand releases the dildo in favor of grabbing onto your sheets for dear life.

Despite the clamping of your pussy around the silicone cock, it still manages to slip out of you after a few seconds—flopping onto your mattress, and poking wetly against your ass.

When the pleasure on your clit starts to turn to pain—you finally tear the vibrator away. You turn it off, and weakly discard it onto the bed beside you.

Despite no longer having any toys in or on you, your cunt and clit continue to twitch with aftershocks.

You take a deep breath.

Hat Guy is still talking in your ears, but your brain is too scrambled to process what he’s saying. So, you just continue to lay there until his words sound more like words again.

“Alright, you must have cum by now. Take a minute to breathe. And when you’re done catching your breath, make sure you get up and go pee, and then get some water. Because I’m not about to be liable for any after-effects of this session.”

Despite being exhausted, you can’t help but quietly laugh.

“Good job making it through. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon…mostly because I’m sure you’ll be opening this file again to get off to, haha.”

“Later~”

The audio ends.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Then, you roll onto your side, slowly get up, and head for the bathroom.

Can’t let Hat Guy be liable for you, after all.

The following morning, you wake up with sore muscles, and a determination to go and beat up Yae Miko and Lisa Minci about their “gift”.

Yeah, maybe you are a little less tense than before, and the stress that had been clinging to you after the end of the previous semester is now gone, but still. They deserve a good scolding.

First, however, you have to go to your 9AM lecture. After that, you’ll have time to run to the library.

Despite the soreness in your thighs, you manage to trek across campus and make it to your class with time to spare. You chose a seat somewhere in the middle, and then set your bag down in the chair beside you.

With nothing to work on yet, considering today’s the first day, you entertain yourself with social media apps on your phone as the lecture hall slowly continues filling up.

When there’s only a minute left before the class is set to start, there’s a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, realizing they’ve probably been trying to get your attention, you immediately take out one of your headphones. Before you can even turn to face them and apologize, they’re talking.

Except…the voice of the person beside you is…eerily familiar. Scratchy, attractive, and perhaps a little annoyed—

“Do you mind moving your bag? There aren’t very many seats left.”

Without saying a word, too stunned to speak, you reach over and move your bag to the floor at your feet. The man grunts, and takes a seat beside you.

As he pulls out his laptop, you finally build up the courage to look at him.

Dark hair and eyes to match…slim fingers, but veiny hands…a black shirt and oversized jacket—

“Do you need something?”

Oh, fuck—you’ve been openly staring.

Your eyes meet his for the first time, and you open your mouth, but no words come out. The beat of your heart starts to get faster.

He cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

This is just too much—there’s no fucking way this is happening—

Unfortunately, before you can finally pull it together and try to redeem yourself, your professor takes the podium at the head of the room.

“Class! Welcome! While it might be a little unconventional to start the semester out on this note, I just want you all to know in advance: this class will heavily rely on cooperation with others. There will be many team projects. In fact—the person you’re sharing a table with will be your project partner for the whole semester!”

…what.

Beside you, the man sighs—clearly unhappy to hear about there being group projects, or you being his partner, or both.

“Great, looks like we’re stuck together.”

“Yep…,” you mumble in response, the first word you’ve managed to speak since his arrival.

He obviously notices, because his lips pull into a teasing little grin, his eyes remaining trained on your still-speaking professor as he whisper—

“Oh, would you look at that? She speaks.”

Your pussy clenches.

Mhmm, yep!

You’re gonna go jump off a bridge.

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #bean fic #genshin fanfic

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minswriting · 21 days ago

Text

DROP THE ATTITUDE - S.R x READER

About: Spencer’s been giving you an attitude all day and you’re not having it.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, brat!spencer, mean dom! reader, slapping, choking, dacryphilia, degradation, sub!spencer, mentions of spencer’s addiction, etc.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Let’s bring back kinky spencer tumblr fr. If there’s anything you don’t like in the warnings, just don’t read. Border is by @esote-rika and this is proof read by @beenreidingaboutyou . Please comment and reblog to support your creators! The fic was originally called “Brat” but i changed the name heehee.

It wasn’t often that Spencer gave you an attitude. Usually he was very kind and respectful, happy and upbeat, understanding and adoring. He’d ramble about anything and everything on his brain. But today? Today, Spencer was off and giving you an unnecessary attitude which you were not going to allow to happen.

It had been a little while since the two of you had done anything sexual. With his long hours at the BAU and your job getting in the way of the rare alone time the two of you would have, it’s been a bit hard to sneak in some sexual time together. Today was a rare day that you both had off and rather than spending time together in an enthusiastic manner, Spencer was annoyed and dismissive of you.

Like when you had woken up in bed alone to the smell of coffee. You had gone into the kitchen, still wearing your pajamas as you walked up behind Spencer and wrapped your arms around him. “Good morning,” You said softly, as you pressed a kiss onto his shoulder blade.

“Morning.” He said shortly, a complete difference in how he usually greeted you in the morning. The way you were greeted in the morning usually consisted of peppering your face with kisses and wishing you a good morning as he grabbed your butt. This was a complete difference but you tried your best to ignore it. He was likely very tired due to working very hard the last few weeks.

“Are you alright?” You murmured, resting your chin on his shoulder but letting go of Spencer.

“I’m fine,” He said coldly, grabbing his cup of coffee and pulling away from you, leaving you with a frown on your lips from Spencer’s out-of-character behavior.

You decided to give him space as you got yourself ready for the day and went to the store to buy groceries for the two of you. And while you were out, you had gotten one of Spencer’s favorite snacks. When you had gotten home, grocery bags in hand, Spencer wasn’t in the living room like he had been when you left. Instead, you heard him in the shower.

As you were putting the groceries away, you heard the shower turn off. When Spencer eventually came out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, you greeted him with a smile. “Hi, my love,” You exclaimed, holding up Spencer’s favorite snack. “I bought you these while I was out.”

And rather than being met with a “thank you”, you were met with nothing but a sassy response. “I didn’t ask you to buy those for me,” He replied, furrowing his eyebrows.

You once again frowned. “I know you didn’t,” You exclaimed. “But I wanted to.”

“Okay,” He said before walking away, going to the bedroom.

The whole interaction left a sour taste in your mouth as you finished putting away all the perishable items. The last time Spencer had given you such an attitude was when he was on Dilaudid. And then suddenly, something in your brain clicked as you felt worry wash over you. You put down the box of pasta you were holding before making your way to the bedroom as well. You didn’t bother to knock on the door as you walked in.

“What is wrong with you today?” You asked, looking at Spencer, who was sitting on the bed with his back to the headboard with a book in his hands. Though you could tell he wasn’t really reading it.

“What do you mean?” He asked with disinterest, his eyes glued to the book.

“You’ve been cold to me all morning,” You exclaimed, crossing your arms. “So what is wrong with you today?” You asked once more. You were concerned, annoyed, and overall not enjoying the energy that Spencer was giving you.

“Nothing,” He replied simply, his eyes still on the book.

“Nothing?” You let out a chuckle of disbelief. “Clearly it’s something otherwise you wouldn’t be acting this way.” You looked away for a second, taking a deep breath before putting your gaze back on Spencer. “Are you using Dilaudid again?” You asked, your tone much softer but your face held a look of concern.

That sudden question caused Spencer’s eyes to shoot over to you as he immediately closed the book. “No,” he replied quickly. “Why would you think that?”

You frowned. “Because you haven’t given me this much of an attitude since you were using,” You replied honestly.

Spencer frowned as well, a small look of hurt on his face as he realized that he had been acting rudely to you all day. “I-I’m not using,” He said honestly. “I’ve just been frustrated all day.”

“And so you’ve been acting like a brat all day?” You retorted.

Spencer tensed for a second, biting his bottom lip as he had a certain look in his eyes. And that’s when it hit you. He really had been acting like a brat today. It had been so long since the two of you have done anything remotely sexual. And he’d been acting like a cunt because he hadn’t gotten his rocks off in so long.

“Oh my god,” you said, walking closer to Spencer. “You’re sexually frustrated.”

Spencer didn’t respond as he watched you get closer to him. He put the book he had in his lap on the nightstand as you moved to sit yourself on his lap. “I-“ he began but you stopped him, placing a finger on his lips.

“Brats don’t deserve to talk,” you replied.

This led to your dress being ridden up with Spencer’s pants lowered just enough for his cock to be out as you bounced on his cock. Spencer’s hands were on your hips as he looked at you with his eyes blown out in pleasure. “You’re so wet-“ Spencer began but stopped when your hand collided with his cheek. He let out the loudest moan, bucking his hips into yours. Clearly an indication that he loved the feeling.

“As I said earlier,” You breathed out, slowing your hips. “Brats don’t deserve to talk.”

It wasn’t often that you had to tame Spencer. He was usually such a good boy for you. Or you were a good girl for him. But when you had to tame him, he wanted you to be harsh on him. He adored whenever you slapped him and choked him, to put him in his place. “My dirty boy,” you said, licking your lips. The hand that collided with Spencer’s cheek gripped his jaw, keeping his head from falling back from the pleasure. “Think you can have an attitude all day simply because you want to get your dick wet? How pathetic.” Spencer whined at the degradation, pressing himself into you as your hips collided with his. “There’s this thing called using your words. You need to use them if you want something.”

“I-I’m-“ Spencer tried to speak but your hand went to his throat, pressing gently to cut off the blood flow but not to cut off his oxygen.

“Did I say you were allowed to speak?” You asked, keeping your hand there. You continued moving your hips, going faster as you bounced on Spencer’s cock. To say you missed this was an understatement. The feeling of Spencer’s cock diving in and out of you, hitting that sweet spot inside of you just right. And the times you got to be in control? Divine, absolutely divine.

Spencer was whining and whimpering underneath you, his cheeks were reddened by the heat of the moment and the lack of blood flow to his brain. His lips were parted as his beautiful brown eyes were on you, looking at you in pure bliss. Your hand moved from Spencer’s neck to his shoulder, stabilizing yourself as you rode him a bit faster.

“Oh my god,” Spencer breathed out, throwing his head back. If you had been feeling particularly mean, you would slap him again and make him look at you. But you decided he deserved at least just a little break. “Feels so good, feels so good,” He whined, closing his eyes in pleasure.

That was something you were not going to allow.

You smacked his cheek again, causing Spencer to whimper loudly as he moved his head to look at you once more. His eyes were glistening with tears and the imprint of your hand on his cheek. “What are you going to do, Spencer,” You asked mockingly. “Cry about it?” You held a faux sympathetic look on your face as you spoke, the movement of your hips not faltering. You clenched your walls around Spencer’s cock, eliciting a pathetic moan from the genius beneath you.

“I’m so close,” Spencer choked, tears spilling from his eyes. You couldn’t help but smirk. The sight of Spencer crying was much more of a turn on than you cared to admit to yourself. He gripped your hips tighter.

You chuckled, taking pleasure in Spencer’s current state. “Do you deserve to cum?” You asked, a mocking pout on your lips.

Spencer groaned. “No,” He mewled. “Need to cum so badly though,” He said, looking at you through teary eyes. “Please let me cum. I’ll be so good to you, I’ll be your good boy,” Spencer begged, his bottom lip wobbling as he spoke.

How could you say no when Spencer was begging you so nicely? God knows he truly does need it. “Oh, my baby,” You cooed, grinding your hips against Spencer’s. “Yes, you can cum for me.”

That was all Spencer needed as he bucked his hips into yours, thrusting his cock in and out of you as he met your hips with his own movements. He was moaning loudly, so loudly that you were sure the neighbors could hear what was going on. You were close too, the feeling of Spencer’s cock adding to the heat in your abdomen. And with just a few thrusts, Spencer began cumming. “Oh-Oh fuck,” He whined, spilling his seed inside of you which sent you over the edge as well. Your cunt clamped around Spencer’s cock as your orgasm overcame you.

And when you were both finished, the room filled with nothing but the sounds of your heavy breathing. Spencer’s grip on your hips loosened. You let out a satisfied hum as you lifted yourself up and off of Spencer’s cock. “Feel better?” You breathed out, looking at Spencer.

Spencer looked at you almost dazed as he nodded his head. “Much better,” he replied, leaning in to kiss you on the lips which you happily reciprocated.

When you pulled away, you rested your hands on Spencer’s shoulders. “Next time you’re frustrated, you need to tell me,” You murmured, leaning in to kiss Spencer’s cheek, the one you slapped.

“I will,” Spencer said, moving his head to kiss your lips once more.

The rest of the day was spent cuddling and holding one another, relishing in the rare day off the two of you had.

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vibelladonna · 1 month ago

Text

✑ 𝓃𝓊𝓂𝒷 𝜗𝜚 𝓉𝓀𝒶𝓉𝒷 𝓂𝑒𝓃

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Some people fall apart quietly. You were one of them. The weight of existence had always been relentless, pressing down on you like an unseen force no one else could feel.

A lifetime of existential crises, quiet detachment, and numbness that never truly faded—it all led you here. To your quiet space, where the world was silent, where you could exist without pretense, without expectation. But solitude was never yours to keep.

Not when they noticed.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

soooo, Is it bad to turn to my "middle school” playlist just to feel something? I’ve been staying positive and relaxing on spring break; I need to be in my feelings when writing stuff like this. T-T

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Jericho has a way with words to make you feel better.

You sat in the deepest part of the library, a place so tucked away that even the dust seemed undisturbed. It was quiet—too quiet, maybe—but that was the point. No one came here.

No one except, apparently, Crowe.

"You're only here out of pity."

You didn’t bother looking up when you said it. You didn’t need to. The sound of his footsteps had already told you it was him before he even spoke.

There was a beat of silence. Then a soft exhale as Crowe dropped into the seat across from you, the chair creaking slightly under his weight. You knew that exhale—it was the same one he let out whenever he was frustrated but trying not to show it.

"You’ve been avoiding me." His voice was steady, but there was an edge underneath.

"I’ve been busy."

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "That’s bullshit, and we both know it."

You clenched your jaw. You didn’t need this right now. You didn’t need him looking at you like that—like he saw right through you.

Crowe leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His eyes, usually so unreadable, had that sharp focus he got when he was putting the pieces together.

"You stopped showing up to class. You dropped out of clubs without telling anyone. I damn near had to get our friends to track you down, because no one knew where the hell you were."

You flinched, just barely. So he had noticed. Of course, he had.

“Thier, not my friends—I don’t see why you care so much." You finally looked at him, your expression blank. "You don’t have to play the role of the concerned friend, Crowe. You can go back to your life now. I’ll be fine."

His jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he was going to snap at you. But instead, he just ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "That’s what pisses me off," he muttered.

"What?"

"You think I’m here out of pity."

You scoffed. "Tell me I’m wrong, then."

Crowe’s fingers tapped against the table—a small habit of his when he was thinking, calculating. Then, without warning, he reached forward and grabbed your wrist. His touch was gentle but firm, his thumb brushing over the edge of your sleeve where the fabric was just slightly worn from being pulled down one too many times.

"I don’t do pity," he said quietly. "I don’t waste my time on people I don’t give a shit about. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care."

His grip wasn’t tight.

You could pull away if you wanted to.

But you didn’t.

"You keep pushing people away," he continued, his voice softer now, almost tired. "But I’m not going anywhere, no matter how much you try to make me."

Something in your chest ached at his words, but you shoved it down, deep where it couldn’t touch you. You didn’t want to believe him. Because if you did—if you let yourself think, even for a second, that someone actually cared—what would happen when he eventually got tired of you? When he realized you weren’t worth the effort?

You swallowed, forcing your voice to stay even.

"You’re wasting your time, Crowe."

He studied you for a long moment, then let go of your wrist, leaning back in his chair.

"Maybe," he said simply. "But that’s my choice, isn’t it?"

The worst part? He said it like he meant it.

Crowe didn’t move from his seat, didn’t take his eyes off you. He let his words settle between you, filling the heavy silence. You hated it—hated the way he just sat there, like he wasn’t going to leave no matter how much you wanted him to.

Or maybe, deep down, you hated that part of you didn’t want him to leave at all.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before leaning forward again, arms resting on the table. His voice softened. "You really think that little of yourself, don’t you?"

You opened your mouth to argue—to throw back some cold, dismissive remark that would push him away—but you hesitated. Something about the way he said it, like it wasn’t an accusation but just… sad, made your throat tighten.

Crowe didn’t wait for an answer. He just shook his head, like he was trying to figure out how the hell to get through to you.

"You act like you're nothing, like people only keep you around because they feel sorry for you. But that’s bullshit. You’re the smartest person I know, and not just in that textbook way—you're sharp. You see things other people don’t. And you're not just smart, you’re…" He exhaled, searching for the right words.

"You’re strong. Even when you don’t feel like it."

You scoffed, but it came out weaker than you meant it to. "That’s a nice way of saying I’m stubborn."

Crowe let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, you are. But that’s part of it. You don’t just roll over when things get hard. You keep going, even when you think you don’t have it in you." He leaned back, running a hand through his hair.

"And I hate that you can’t see that. I hate that you think so little of yourself when I—" He stopped himself, sucking in a sharp breath.

You stared at him. "When you what?"

Crowe hesitated. His fingers tapped against the table again, a steady rhythm. Then, finally, he met your eyes. "When I think the world of you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

"You matter," he said, and he said it with such certainty it almost hurt. "You’re not some burden. You’re not some pity project. You’re—you’re you. And that’s enough. That’s always been enough."

Your hands curled into fists in your lap. You didn’t know what to do with the warmth creeping into your chest, didn’t know how to process the way he was looking at you—like you were something worth holding onto.

"Crowe—"

"I mean it," he cut in before you could come up with some excuse, some way to dismiss it. "And I’ll keep saying it until you start believing it yourself."

Crowe’s eyes softened as he watched you, but there was something else there too—something unshakable, something that made your chest ache in a way you weren’t ready for.

You looked away, focusing on the grain of the wooden table, on the faint scratches left behind by years of students who had sat here before you.

You weren’t feeling those feelings anymore. Not really. Not the way you used to. It was like a switch had been flipped somewhere along the way, like something inside you had just… shut off.

And that scared you.

Because even the pain, the hurt, the exhaustion—at least it had been something. At least it had been real. But now? Now it was just numb. Like you were watching your own life from behind a glass wall, unable to reach through, unable to touch anything.

Crowe must have noticed something shift in your expression because, before you could pull away, he reached out—slow, deliberate. His fingers brushed against your chin, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Hey." His voice was quiet, careful. Like he was afraid you might disappear if he said the wrong thing. "Where’d you go just now?"

You swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in your eyes. "Nowhere."

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw, the warmth of his touch grounding in a way you weren’t used to. Crowe never pushed, never forced his way in—but he had a way of making you feel seen, even when you didn’t want to be.

"You’re lying," he murmured, his grip steady but gentle. "And I get it. I do. But whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone."

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let the words sink in, to let yourself reach for the warmth he was offering—but the weight in your chest was too heavy.

"I don’t feel it anymore," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t feel anything."

Crowe’s fingers twitched against your skin, his grip tightening just slightly as if grounding himself in the moment. A flicker of something unguarded passed through his eyes—raw, desperate, something he couldn’t put into words. It was brief, barely there, but you caught it.

And then, before you could pull away before you could disappear into yourself again, he leaned in.

His forehead hovered just over yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breath. He wasn’t forcing you, wasn’t taking anything—just waiting, holding steady, like he’d stand there forever if that’s what it took.

"Then let me feel it for you."

His voice was hoarse like the words physically pained him.

"Let me hold it until you can again."

Your breath hitched, something inside you cracking at the weight of those words. You weren’t sure what broke first—your resolve, the numb wall you’d built, or the illusion that you could keep pushing him away forever. But in that moment, something shifted.

His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing you—like he wanted to make sure you were still here. His hands weren’t trembling, but there was a tension in them, a silent plea he wasn’t voicing.

"You don’t see yourself the way I do." His voice was rough, edged with frustration, and something deeper, something almost unbearable.

He let out a slow breath, his forehead dipping against the side of your head, like the weight of what he said was too much to hold upright. "And that pisses me off."

That alone almost made you laugh. A quiet, breathless sound—more disbelief than humor.

Your throat tightened, and your chest ached. Your eyes burned. But you didn’t cry. Not yet.

Because for the first time in what felt like forever, someone wasn’t just telling you that you weren’t alone.

Crowe just proved it.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol had never thought it would be this hard to find you.

He’d skipped his own classes to track you down, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going, not caring that the clock was ticking and he was supposed to be somewhere else. But when he’d gone to your usual spots on campus and asked around, there was no sign of you.

His heart had dropped lower with every dead end. When he reached your apartment, his gut twisted—he’d thought, maybe hoped, that you'd be somewhere else, somewhere safe, surrounded by other people. But you weren’t.

Sol knocked, but there was no answer. His breath came out in a frustrated puff. His instincts told him to push through, and he did. He twisted the knob, relieved to find the door unlocked, but he froze when he stepped inside.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

The only sound was the faint hum of an old air conditioner, the muffled traffic from outside the window. Everything felt still as if the space itself was holding its breath.

He moved cautiously through the small apartment, eyes scanning the room for any sign of you. There were books scattered across the coffee table, dishes piled up in the sink. It looked like you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. Not for a while.

He moved down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest, as his gaze landed on the bathroom door—half-open, as though you hadn’t bothered to close it completely.

He stopped, instinctively bracing himself before stepping into the room.

The scene before him stopped him in his tracks.

You were sitting in the bathtub, your knees drawn up to your chest, your arms locked around them as if you could hold yourself together that way. The water was still—too still. It was clear, untouched, yet it seemed to be drowning you all the same. Your hair clung to your face, soaked, strands matted and heavy. You hadn't moved for so long that the water had become cold against your skin, but you didn't care.

Your face was hidden, your eyes closed, and for a brief moment, Sol couldn’t tell if you were asleep or… if you were gone.

A cold panic surged through him, piercing through his chest like ice. His heart stuttered in his ribcage as his breath hitched. He didn’t care about anything else—he just needed to know you were still there, still breathing.

Sol rushed forward, reaching for your shoulder, shaking you lightly at first. But when you didn’t respond, the fear in him began to twist, hard and tight. He shook you again, harder this time, his fingers gripping you with urgency, his voice raw with anxiety.

"Hey." His voice was a whisper, but it trembled with the weight of his panic. "Hey, you okay?"

You jerked awake with a startled shout, your body stiffening in alarm, and immediately you pushed away from his touch. Your eyes flashed open—wide, but unfocused. The fear in your voice was sharp, raw, and you barely registered that it was him standing over you.

"Stop! Go away!" You snapped, your voice thick with exhaustion and frustration. It was bitter, the kind of bitterness that had been accumulating for days, weeks, months.

The weight of everything you were trying to hide, trying to bury, came spilling out with those words.

Sol froze, his breath catching in his throat. His hands shook as he stood over you, watching your form curl into itself. Your clothes were soaked, clinging to your skin like a second layer, and your hair dripped onto your shoulders, wet strands sticking to your face.

He couldn't bear to see you like this—this distant, this unreachable.

"What’s going on with you?" Sol demanded, his voice firm but laced with the underlying concern he couldn’t hide. His brow furrowed, and there was a weight in his tone like he was pleading without saying it.

But you didn’t answer.

You just turned your face away, pushing your hair back with a dismissive motion, trying to rid yourself of the mess both in your mind and around you.

The silence stretched between you both, and Sol’s patience started to wear thin, a hint of frustration creeping in despite his worry. He rolled his eyes, not at you, but at the situation itself. He couldn’t stand the way you kept pushing him away, pretending that you didn’t need help, pretending that you didn’t need someone to care.

Without waiting for an answer, Sol turned on his heel and went to the linen closet. You barely noticed his movements at first, too lost in your thoughts to even register that he had left.

When he returned moments later, however, he had two freshly folded towels in his hands.

You blinked, your mind foggy as you tried to piece together how he had found them so quickly. You were lost, disconnected from everything but the fog of your head.

You sighed, exasperated, the weight of everything suddenly pulling at your chest again. "Go away." The words were barely more than a whisper, but they felt heavy on your tongue.

Sol didn’t budge. He took a step closer to the tub, his brow set in determination. But before he could say anything, you pushed him away, your hands weak but insistent.

"I don’t want you to touch me."

His expression softened, but the concern was still there, etched into every line of his face. He stood still for a moment, allowing you the space you wanted.

You were pulling further into yourself, retreating, and he hated that. But he wasn’t leaving—not until you saw he wasn’t going anywhere.

Sol stood there, his gaze hardening as he watched you pull away, trying to retreat further into yourself as if you could escape the moment. That familiar edge of anger sparked in him—the kind that always flared up when he felt helpless.

When he could see you falling apart right in front of him, all he could do was stand there and watch you push him away

"Try me," he growled under his breath, his voice low and controlled, but the roughness in it was undeniable. It was like he couldn’t hold back the frustration anymore, the pain of seeing you like this, watching you destroy yourself without any help, without any sign that you even wanted to fight it.

He took a step closer, his heart pounding louder with every second.

The sound of it was deafening in his ears, but it only pushed him forward, closer to you.

You turned your face away, but Sol wasn’t having it. He reached out with firm, purposeful hands and grabbed your wrist, not roughly, but with a hold that wouldn’t allow you to pull away. His fingers brushed over the raised scars on your skin, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

The reality of it hit him harder than he was prepared for, like a slap to the face. He swore under his breath, the anger shifting to something darker, something he couldn’t fully express.

"Why?" he asked, quieter now, almost afraid of the answer but still needing to hear it. His voice wavered with a vulnerability he wasn’t sure he wanted to show, but it slipped out anyway. He couldn’t help it—he needed to understand.

Why did you keep doing this to yourself?

You remained silent, your lips pressed into a thin line, a stubborn refusal to give him any of the answers he was desperate for. His grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, as though he was trying to tether you to him, not letting you slip away.

"You can talk to me," Sol said, his voice softer, more pleading now, despite the cold anger still simmering under the surface. "I don’t care how messy it is. I don’t care how bad it’s been, or how bad you think it’ll sound. Just—don’t do this. Not alone. Not anymore."

His words hung in the air, fragile and thin, like a thread that could snap at any moment. And for a fleeting second, you almost wanted to reach for it.

Almost. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The thought of letting someone see you like this, letting them truly see the mess inside—you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t let anyone in.

"I don’t need saving, Sol." The words came out cold, clipped like you were trying to freeze everything between you both. But even as you spoke, your voice trembled, betraying you.

Sol didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. If anything, his hold on your wrist tightened just a little more, like he was trying to keep you anchored to him, trying to keep you from disappearing into yourself.

"Good," he said softly, his voice steady but filled with an honesty that almost took your breath away. "‘Cause I’m not trying to save you."

He stepped even closer, his breath shallow as he dropped down to sit beside the tub, his body close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, even with the chill in the air.

His face was just inches from yours now, his gaze locked on yours.

"I just don’t want to lose you." His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, it almost felt like everything else stopped. His words were simple, but they hit deeper than anything else he could’ve said.

He wasn’t trying to fix you. He wasn’t trying to save you.

He just didn’t want to lose you.

Sol let the silence stretch between you, the weight of his words pressing down like a hand around your throat. His grip on your wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go, his fingers ghosting over the scars with an almost reverent touch. His breathing was slow, controlled—but you could feel the tension radiating off of him.

Then, without warning, he moved. Swift and sure, like he had already decided what to do before you could even react.

He grabbed the towel he had brought earlier, shaking it out before reaching for you again. You stiffened, instinctively trying to shrink back, but Sol didn’t give you the chance.

"Enough." His voice was firm, brooking no argument as he pulled you forward, wrapping the towel around your shoulders. The fabric was thick and warm against your soaked clothes, a sharp contrast to the chill in the room.

You didn’t protest when he dragged you up. Maybe you were too tired. Maybe you didn’t want to fight him on this anymore. The moment your legs wobbled from the sudden movement, his arms wrapped around you, pressing you against his chest.

The warmth of him was suffocating.

"You’re shaking," he muttered, tightening his hold. His fingers dug into the fabric of the towel, pressing into your back as though he could physically hold you together. "Jesus, Pumpkin… what the hell are you doing to yourself?"

You swallowed, your throat dry. You could feel the steady thud of his heart against your ear, and could hear the controlled breaths he was forcing himself to take. But it was the slight tremor in his voice that made you feel like the worst person in the world.

You didn’t deserve this.

You didn’t deserve him.

Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure whether to push him away or hold on. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. His warmth was a stark contrast to the coldness you had wrapped yourself in for so long, and for once, you let yourself feel it.

"Why are you here, Sol?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, cracking at the edges.

"Why the fuck wouldn’t I be here?" He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You think I’d just ignore this? Ignore you?"

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. What were you supposed to say? That he should have ignored this? That it was easier that way?

Sol exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before cupping the back of your head, forcing you to look at him. His fingers wove into your damp strands, grounding you with his touch.

"Hey now," he said, voice firm, unwavering. "If you think for a second that I’m gonna sit back and let you drown in this—" his grip on your hair tightened slightly, quiet desperation seeping into his words—"you don’t know me as well as you think you do."

The guilt hit like a punch to the gut.

You tried to look away, but he didn’t let you. His grip was gentle but firm, his thumb brushing against the back of your neck in a way that made you shiver.

"I don’t need saving," you repeated weakly, but it felt like a lie now.

"Yeah?" Sol’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, wasn’t quite a frown. "Then tell me—if I leave right now, if I walk out that door and don’t come back… are you gonna be okay?"

You opened your mouth to snap yes, to shove him away and tell him to leave you the hell alone. But the words caught in your throat.

Sol’s eyes softened, but there was something sharper lurking beneath. Something calculating. He saw the hesitation, the way your lips parted but no words followed, and he seized the moment.

"That’s what I thought," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your forehead.

You clenched your jaw, hating how easily he could tear through your defenses. Hating how right he was.

He sighed, his grip on your hair finally loosening as he rested his forehead against yours, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"I’m not going anywhere, Pumpkin." His tone was softer now, almost tender—but there was something unshakable beneath it, something that made it clear you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

"So stop trying to make me."

You hated how much you wanted to believe him. How much you wanted to fall into this warmth, this safety he was offering. But deep down, you knew—this wasn’t just concern.

This was possession.

And Sol had no intention of letting you go.

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo wasn’t the type to care about people’s problems.

At least, that’s what he told himself. It was easier that way—easier to stay detached, to keep his own peace intact. But you?

You made it impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t anything obvious. You still showed up, still spoke when necessary, and still wore that same carefully constructed expression that kept everyone from prying too deep. The others didn’t see it—they weren’t looking hard enough.

But Geo? He noticed.

The way your laugh didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore. The way you lingered at the edges of conversations, only half-present. The way your shoulders carried just a little more weight than usual.

It pissed him off. Not at you—but at whatever had put that weight there in the first place. And the fact that no one else had noticed? That made it worse.

So when you weren’t in your usual spots after classes, he felt it. The unease settled into his chest like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and no matter how much he wanted to brush it off, he couldn’t.

Fine. If you weren’t going to say anything, then he’d figure it out himself.

The library? Empty.

Your club meetings? No sign of you.

Geo’s jaw tightened, his annoyance growing the longer it took. But then—then he found you.

The university greenhouse.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh blooms, the warmth of the sun filtering through the glass ceiling above. And there you were, sitting on a worn stone bench, eyes closed, shoulders relaxed in a way that felt almost unnatural.

For a second, he just watched.

You looked peaceful. Or maybe… maybe you were just pretending to be.

Geo hated that he couldn’t tell.

With a sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped forward, his footsteps quiet against the greenhouse floor. He didn’t say anything at first, just standing there like he was waiting for you to notice him. When you didn’t, he clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Didn’t think you were the type to nap in the middle of the day," he muttered, his voice just loud enough to cut through the stillness.

Your eyes flickered open, but you didn’t look surprised. Like you had already known he was there.

"Not napping," you murmured, voice slow, distant. "Just… thinking."

Geo sighed. "Yeah? And how’s that going for you?"

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head slightly. "Too loud."

Geo frowned at that. The greenhouse was silent—just the faint rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the fans overhead. But he knew that wasn’t what you meant.

He moved closer, his gaze sharp as he took you in. The way your fingers curled slightly against the stone bench. The way your shoulders were tense, even if you were trying to look at ease. The way your eyes had that tired look—the kind that sleep wouldn’t fix.

Yeah. Something was wrong.

And it was worse than he thought.

"...You gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?" His tone was casual, but there was an edge beneath it.

You huffed, shaking your head. "Nothing’s going on."

"Liar."

That made you pause.

Geo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I don’t do the whole ‘prying’ thing. But when someone who’s usually pretty good at keeping their shit together suddenly starts falling apart under the radar? Kinda hard not to notice."

You tensed, and he caught it immediately. He was right.

"...You’re imagining things," you muttered, but it was weak.

Geo just scoffed. "Yeah? Then why are you out here, alone, sitting in a greenhouse like some tragic main character?"

You shot him a glare, but he just raised an eyebrow, unfazed.

"Thought so," he muttered.

Silence stretched between you.

You swallowed hard, your gaze fixated on the greenhouse floor, tracing the cracks between the stone tiles like they held answers you couldn't find anywhere else.

Geo wasn’t the type to comfort. He wasn’t the type to pry, either. If you wanted to talk, you would. If you didn’t, fine—he wasn’t going to beg for your feelings. But he also wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t see what was happening to you.

And for some reason, that made it worse.

"Listen." He exhaled sharply, his voice carrying that familiar edge of impatience, but not with you—never with you. More like he was frustrated at the situation itself, at the fact that he even had to say this.

"I don’t care what it is. I don’t care if it’s stupid, or if you think I won’t get it, or whatever excuse you’re using to keep your mouth shut." He leaned back against the bench, just close enough to remind you he was here, but not close enough to smother you. "Just don’t sit here acting like you’re fine when you’re clearly not."

His voice wasn’t soft. It wasn’t kind. But it was real.

And for some reason, that made it harder to breathe.

Your throat felt tight, something hot building behind your ribs, but you forced it down. You were good at that—at shoving things so deep inside yourself that they didn’t exist anymore. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Geo let out a slow, heavy sigh, his shoulders rising and falling as if this whole thing physically exhausted him. "I don’t like worrying about people," he muttered. "Kinda hate it, actually."

His words shouldn’t have stung, but they did.

His eyes flickered toward you, sharp but unreadable as if debating whether to say the next part.

"But you?" His voice dipped lower, quieter, but somehow heavier. "Yeah. You make that shit real hard to avoid."

That did something to you.

You weren’t sure what exactly, but it hit deeper than you wanted it to. Deeper than you expected it to.

Your fingers curled slightly in your lap, gripping at the fabric of your clothes like you could anchor yourself there. "I don’t mean to," you murmured.

"I know." Geo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His expression remained unreadable, but his voice softened—not in the way people spoke to you with forced pity or careful concern, but in a way that felt... real.

"...Doesn’t change the fact that I still do."

And then—plink.

The first raindrop struck the glass above, a soft, barely-there sound. Then another. And another.

Within moments, the greenhouse filled with the rhythm of rainfall, steady yet heavy, each drop echoing against the glass panels. The scent of damp earth rose around you, rich and grounding, as the world outside blurred into a hazy wash of gray.

Geo exhaled sharply, arms crossing over his chest.

Of course, it had to start raining.

The timing felt cruel in a way—like the universe had been watching the whole time and decided this moment needed an extra layer of weight.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. But in the quiet of the downpour, in the stillness of the greenhouse, something in the air had shifted. The truth was, he wasn’t the type to comfort people. Wasn’t the type to sit around and hold hands, whispering empty reassurances.

It wasn’t something he was used to.

It wasn’t something he did.

Silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken. The only sound was the rain pattering against the greenhouse glass, the steady rhythm filling the space between words you couldn't say.

Your chest ached. Not in a sharp, unbearable way—but in a dull, bone-deep exhaustion that never seemed to fade, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

"...Classes are draining." Your voice barely rose above a whisper, but somehow, it felt deafening. "I feel like I go through them in a daze. Like I’m there, but I’m not."

Geo didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze burning into you. So you kept going because now that you started, it was hard to stop.

"I wake up, I go to class, I do what I have to, and then... I just exist." You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "And it never means anything. I don’t feel anything. I just... am. And I don’t even know if that matters anymore."

Your hands clenched tighter, knuckles turning white. The words felt too big, too raw, too exposed. It was terrifying.

And for the first time, you dared to look at him.

Geo’s jaw was tight, his fingers twitching against his knee like he was holding himself back. His usual sharp, cocky demeanor had faded into something else—something serious. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” His voice was quiet, but firm.

You didn’t look at him. “Doing what?”

His jaw clenched. "Acting like you don’t matter."

The silence that followed was thick—almost suffocating. And then, you laughed. Bitter, empty.

“Because I don’t.”

Geo stilled. The way you said it like it was just a fact like it wasn’t something that should sting—it pissed him off. He turned his head, eyes narrowing as he studied you, taking in the way your shoulders curled inward, the way your hands clenched in your lap like you were bracing for something. Like you believed what you just said.

Geo clicked his tongue. "Bullshit."

Your fingers twitched, but you didn’t say anything.

Geo exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. He wasn’t good at this. He didn’t have the right words, the right softness people probably expected in moments like these. But he did know one thing.

His fingers moved before his mind fully caught up, wrapping around your wrist with a gentleness that contradicted the sharp edge in his expression. His thumb traced over the fresh marks you had tried so hard to keep hidden, his touch warm against the raised skin.

Geo didn’t say anything at first, just staring—his face unreadable, but his grip steady. Then, his jaw tensed, his voice coming out quieter than before, rough with frustration.

"You matter to me."

Your breath hitched. Something in your chest tightened, an ache you couldn’t quite place.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you turned your face away, shaking your head. "You’re wasting your time."

Geo scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Then let me waste it."

Before you could react, Geo pulled you forward, shifting you into his lap like it was nothing, like he had already decided you weren’t going anywhere. His grip was firm but not forceful, an unspoken message that he wasn’t about to let you slip away—not now, not like this.

Your breath hitched at the sudden closeness. His face was just inches from yours, the warmth of his skin brushing against the coldness that had settled deep in your bones. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, hear the faint hitch in his breathing as he realized just how close you were.

He still didn’t let go of your wrist. If anything, his fingers curled slightly, holding you there like an anchor, like some stubborn part of him thought that if he kept you close enough, he could stop you from drifting any further.

Geo’s expression was the same as always—mildly annoyed, slightly flushed—but when he tried to speak, he faltered. “I—uh, I just—”

His voice caught. He clenched his jaw, his usual sharp confidence replaced by something uncharacteristically awkward. His ears burned red, his gaze flickering away for half a second before snapping back to you. For the first time in your life, you saw Geo flustered.

And it was hilarious.

The sight of him—one of the smoothest, most put-together guys you knew—stammering like an idiot while trying to be serious?

It was too much.

A laugh broke past your lips before you could stop it.

Geo froze.

Your shoulders shook slightly, exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, but you couldn’t stop laughing. It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t fake.

It was real.

And somehow, despite everything, it felt good.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the suffocating weight of uselessness that always clung to you—the one that whispered you were just a burden, that you didn’t matter—faded into the background.

Geo huffed dramatically, shifting slightly but not letting you go. "Oh, great. Now you’re laughing at me."

You buried your face into his chest, still shaking with quiet amusement. "Because you suck at this," you mumbled, voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

"Yeah, well—" He was about to fire back, but then he heard it again.

Your laugh.

Not the usual forced chuckle. Not the empty amusement you gave when you didn’t want people to worry.

A real laugh.

And just like that, he went quiet.

His arms wrapped around you more securely, holding you there—close, warm, real.

Fuck. Geo really cared about you.

✑ 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜

Hyugo easily felt other’s emotions that he cared about.

It wasn’t hard to guess where you’d gone—he just knew. Like an instinct. Like something in his gut told him exactly where to find you, even before he started searching.

The rooftop was off-limits. Not just by school rules, but in the way most people never thought to come up here. Maybe they were too afraid of getting caught. Maybe they just weren’t the type to seek out heights when the ground felt unsteady beneath them. But you? You never cared about the rules.

You didn’t care about much of anything these days.

Hyugo exhaled sharply as he pushed the rusted rooftop door open, stepping into the cold wind that swept across the campus skyline. His uniform was slightly rumpled, tie loosened, the usual carefree expression wiped clean from his face as he caught sight of you—sitting near the ledge, drawn into yourself like you were trying to disappear into the horizon.

He hated seeing you like this.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

“…You missed class again.”

His voice was quiet. Careful. Not demanding, not scolding—just there.

You didn’t react. You didn’t even turn your head.

Hyugo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The bench near the rooftop’s edge groaned as he sat down beside you, leaving just enough space that you wouldn’t feel cornered—but not enough to let you pretend he wasn’t here.

“Figured I’d find you up here,” he said, leaning back slightly, his arms resting against his knees. “Was hoping I was wrong.”

Still, nothing.

You just kept staring at the skyline, like if you looked hard enough, you might find something out there that made existing feel worth it.

Hyugo wasn’t good with words. Not like this. Not when it mattered. But he couldn’t just sit here and let you drown in whatever thoughts were eating away at you.

His eyes flickered to your sleeves. To the faint, fresh marks barely hidden beneath the fabric.

Something in his chest twisted.

“…I get it, you know.” His voice was quieter now, rough around the edges. “Maybe not exactly. Maybe not in the way you do. But…”

He hesitated, watching your fingers curl slightly in your lap, your shoulders stiff like you were bracing for something.

“…It doesn’t have to be like this.”

A sharp, bitter laugh almost escaped your throat, but you swallowed it down. Doesn’t have to be? It always was. It always would be.

You finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “Then tell me what it’s supposed to be like, Hyugo.”

He inhaled slowly, watching you—really watching you. He didn’t have an answer. Not a good one. Not one that would fix anything. But that didn’t stop him from reaching out, his fingers brushing over your wrist, tracing the edge of the pain you carried like it was something fragile, something worth holding onto.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his grip tightening slightly. “But I do know that this isn’t all there is. And I hate that you think it is.”

That did something to you.

Your breath hitched, the weight in your chest pressing harder, heavier. You squeezed your eyes shut, hands clenching into fists.

Hyugo just held onto you. Not forcefully. Not trying to pull you away from the edge—just keeping you here. With him.

“…Talk to me,” he murmured. “Please.”

You wanted to say no. You wanted to stay in the silence, in the cold, in the nothingness.

But when you finally turned your head, when you met his eyes—the way he was looking at you like you were something precious, something irreplaceable—

For the first time in forever… You almost believed him.

Since Hyugo wasn’t the type to cry easily.

Sure, he was emotional—he felt a lot, more than he let on—but he was always the one with a bright smile, a teasing remark, a carefree attitude that made him easy to be around. He kept things light. Kept things fun.

But right now?

Right now, as he looked at you, really looked at you—at the exhaustion weighing down your shoulders, at the way your fingers trembled slightly as if you were holding yourself together with nothing but sheer will—something in him cracked.

His throat tightened.

You noticed the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes glistened under the dim rooftop lights, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he could.

Holy fuck. Did you almost make Hyugo cry?

The thought sent a sharp pang through your chest. It felt wrong. Unfair. He wasn’t supposed to be the one hurting. You were the problem here, not him. He shouldn’t—he couldn’t—

You shifted slightly, about to say something, anything to break the tension—

But then, before you could move, before you could even react, Hyugo suddenly lurched forward.

His arms wrapped around you, his face pressing against your chest, his entire body curling into you like he was holding on for dear life.

The impact startled you, making you stiffen, but he didn’t let go. If anything, he clung to you tighter, like he was afraid you’d slip away the second he loosened his grip.

“…Don’t do this to me,” he mumbled against your shirt, his voice muffled, strained.

You could feel the slight tremor in his hands, the way his breath hitched like he was barely holding himself together. His heartbeat pounded against you, fast, unsteady.

You swallowed hard, guilt settling deep in your stomach.

You didn’t mean to make him feel like this.

You didn’t mean to make anyone feel like this.

Slowly—hesitantly—you lifted a hand, resting it against the back of his head, your fingers threading gently through his messy hair. He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead deeper against your chest like he was trying to disappear into you.

“…Sorry,” you murmured.

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle, though it came out more like a choked sob.

“God, don’t apologize,” he muttered, voice cracking just slightly. “Don’t you dare fucking apologize right now.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your cheek against the top of his head. His warmth seeped into you, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t even realize how cold you’d been until now.

For a while, neither of you moved.

Hyugo just held onto you, like he was afraid if he let go, you’d fade away completely. And maybe—just maybe—you let yourself sink into him too, just this once.

“…I’ll stay.”

The words barely made it past your lips, fragile and uncertain, like they might dissolve into the night air before they even reached him.

Hyugo sucked in a sharp breath. For a moment, he didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stared at you, wide-eyed, like he was afraid to blink in case he somehow imagined your words.

Slowly—cautiously—he pulled back just enough to see your face. The rooftop lights cast faint shadows across his features, but even in the dim glow, you could see it. The raw emotion pooled in his eyes, the way his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

His eyes were red-rimmed, glossy with unshed tears.

“…Yeah?” His voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and uncertain, like he needed you to say it again, to confirm that you meant it.

You nodded.

And that was it. That was all it took for whatever was holding him back to finally break.

A sharp, uneven breath escaped him, and his lips pressed into a thin line as his brows furrowed. His whole body trembled, hands curling into fists against your back like he was trying to ground himself.

Then, before you could process it, before you could even brace yourself, he lunged forward.

His arms wrapped around you, tighter this time—desperate. His entire body pressed against yours, warm and trembling, his face burying into the crook of your neck.

“Good,” he breathed against your skin, voice thick, raw. “Good. You better. You fucking better.”

You felt him shudder against you, his breath uneven, like he was barely holding himself together. His fingers dug into the fabric of your clothes, gripping you like you might slip through his grasp at any second.

“I—” His voice caught, and he shook his head slightly, swallowing hard. His next words were muffled, spoken so quietly they were almost lost against your skin.

“I’d miss you too much, you know?”

Something inside you twisted painfully.

You exhaled, closing your eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of him—warm, faintly like the wind, like something alive. His heartbeat pounded against yours, frantic and real, a stark contrast to the numbness that had sat heavy in your chest for so long.

You knew.

And maybe, just maybe—Hyugo was enough.

574 notes · View notes

furioussouls · 2 months ago

Text

LADS guys in bed

with [chubby reader]

Warning: MINORS DNI 18+, sexual content, kinks(warning: very light impact play (soft spanks), extremely consensual stalking, masochism (m! receiving), and many other kinks), slight ooc??, afab! chubby reader, Caleb is a FREAK,you have been warned, I tried to keep reader as gender neutral as possible, (some) lore accurate nicknames

These characters do not belong to me, they are from the game ”love and deepspace“, created by InFold, all credits for the characters go to them! The lore references and worldbuilding belong solely to the creators!

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Xavier

• this man is FREAKY, do not let his innocent boba eyes deceive you. He is not strictly confined to one role in bed, he’s versatile and adaptable.

• He loves to be of service to you, whether he’s the one in control or you, he loves to have you lay in front of him with your plump legs spread so that he can eat your sweet, fat pussy out. Don’t bother him; that’s his me- time. How else is he supposed to relax? Sleep can only do so much.

• he‘ll be massaging your legs and gently nudging his nose against your belly while looking up at you with an innocent smile. ”Are you alright?“, he’d ask with his soft melodic voice. You‘d nod with a blissed out expression after your umpteenth orgasm and he’d get back to his business.

•he‘s a face- sitting fiend, if you’re hovering over his face without sitting down, he‘ll spank you roughly and pull you down. If he doesn’t feel your entire weight on his face, he‘ll hold you down til he had his fill so just sit down entirely in the beginning without causing a fuss. Sometimes (after making you cum many times of course), he falls asleep with you on top of him.

• if something made him jealous, he‘ll be more dominant. However, not in a punishing way, because he knows he’s the one that’s doing too much, so he’ll just draw sex out for as long as he can. A mix between slow and passionately rough sex, edging and overstimulating once he makes you cum.

“Xavier, please!“, you moaned out with tears running down your face. You don’t know how long it’s been and he just won’t give you what you want. It’s infuriating and you were beginning to lose your patience. Xavier slowly thrusted into you until his cock disappeared entirely in you, and then caressed your face “Why did you laugh with him, hm? Does he make you laugh more than me?“ He pressed kisses to your chubby cheeks and watched your belly jiggle with every thrust and then stopped once you got too close to your orgasm. He wishes he could have you like this forever.

• loves loves loves knee- high socks, he likes how your gorgeous legs look in them and how the fat spills over at the top. If you wanna convince him of something, just wear knee- high socks.

•obsessed with consensual (obv) touching while he’s sleeping (him on the receiving end). There’s nothing better to him than waking up and seeing your pretty face, taking what you want from him. He loves it.

•when he’s submissive, he loves to roleplay. Master & servant, doctor and patient and any obscure scenario that you can think of, he’ll be into it, but only when he’s feeling submissive. If he’s roleplaying a more dominant role, he’ll get jealous that you like that character more than him since he’s a pretty laid back guy personality wise lolol (when he’s not currently jealous).

•Xavier’s favourite position is the “G-whiz“ position. He loves having your legs rest on his shoulders while he fucks your pretty pussy.

Zayne:

•pleasure dom forever, he will not let you rest until you’ve come at least five times. That doesn’t seem like much? Don’t worry, he’ll draw it out, and I mean extremely.

“Shh, it’s alright. You’re alright. I got you. We‘re almost there, alright?“ he cooed at you as his fingers rubbed tight circles around your puffy clit. He gently grabbed his glasses and took them off before pressing his soft lips to your waiting mouth. He swallowed all your moans and put his other hand around you to stop your soft body from squirming away from him. Maybe this time you’ll get to cum (you won’t).

• temperature play, he loves using his ice evol on your sweet body, watching you squirm underneath his hand. He‘d never want to hurt you with his evol, god no. He’ll just use it to give you a nice sensory experience. He also bought the most expensive wax candles, specifically made for this occasion(he can afford it with his doctor money), so that you’ll moan between the juxtaposition of the hot wax and his cold fingers.

You were blindfolded when Zayne gently dripped the hot wax on you. You hissed out in pain, which transformed into pleasure the moment his icy fingers circled your puffy clit. He hummed softly against your neck and kissed it in apology.

• this man cannot help praising you, he seriously can’t. He loves you so much, it’s basically embedded into his blood. He’ll mix his praises with Body worship for you. He will kiss every single inch of you, from the top of your head to your pretty, round toes.

“How did I get so lucky, huh?“ he mumbled adoringly while he softly sucked on your nipples. He cooed at your soft whines and kissed down your chest until he reached your soft belly. “You’re the most gorgeous person ever, thank you for choosing me. You’re doing so good. You taste so good. I’ll give you what you want soon.“ His hands gently massaged and licked down your fleshy limbs and his cold hand tenderly squeezed your foot.

• now that we’re on the topic of feet..yes, he has a foot kink (am I basing this off that one scene in the kitty butler card? Yes!). It started one day when you laid your feet on top of his lap in exhaustion. “Are you alright? How can I help you?“, his worried hands foubd their way to your feet and he began rubbing them absentmindedly. You moaned happily and his eyes snapped to your face. You were in total bliss. Zayne swallowed and kept rubbing your feet as his pants got tighter, and he fixated on your expression. The exhaustion drained from your shoulders and soft sounds escaped you every other while. Ever since that incident he always put on your socks and shoes for you and massages them for you every other night.

• nonsexual: he would never admit it, cause he doesn’t want to offend you in any way since he sees you as a very strong, independent person, but he’s a sucker for casual dominance. If he could, he would make all the small decisions for you for a few days and take the heavy weight off your shoulders. He’d pick out your clothes carefully according to the weather and climate situation, he’d dress you tenderly and would love to feed you while you relaxed. He’d tie your shoelaces for you and button up your jacket. Don’t even try to walk on the side of the pavement that faces the street, he’ll look at you as if you were crazy and gently nudge you to the other side.

• he‘d fuck you slow and deep almost all the time, but when he’s stressed out due to his job he’d be ruthless with his speed. He’d still kiss your face gently as your insides are getting destroyed. He’d love to watch the jiggle of your body and the sounds of his balls hitting your ass.

• Zayne won’t get mad at you during arguments or little spats, but he’ll be furious if you disobey his orders as your doctor. Your health is the most important thing in the world to him and your recklessness infuriates him. He won’t scream at you. He’ll discipline you though. He’ll sit down in his chair with your ample ass laid over his lap as his hand smacked down on your ass. He starts off sweet and tenderly, explaining to you why you must take better care of yourself. At the end, his spanks get a little bit rough, reminding you what will happen the next time you don’t heed his warnings.

• his guilty pleasure is roleplaying doctor and patient with you, eventhough it’s not roleplaying it’s just reality (lmao). He would never do anything sexual with you during your actual appointments because your health is too important to him for that, but after hours he will gladly inspect your sore boobs and eat your poor little pussy out. He wished he could eat it every single day.

• Zaynes favourite position is “the face-off“ position, with him sitting on a chair or the edge of the bed, you sitting on his lap with his cock deep inside of you and your faces pressed together.

Rafayel:

• oh where do I begin…

• he‘s mostly submissive in bed, happily so. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t occasionally like to take charge, he’s just so pathetically in love with you. People only talk about how bratty Rafayel is (which is true) but they forget his manipulative siren side. Rafayel did and would do anything to be with his beloved.

• he‘s a brat, he wants you to tame him. He acts spoiled and needy for you, so that you’ll take him down a notch. He loves the thought of you pulling on his hair and showing him how much you love him.

“Rafayel. I told you, it’s not funny to call me and tell me you need me, just for me to rush over to you and find out you were only bored.”, you hissed out angrily.

Rafayels pouty lips turned into a toothy grin and before he could respond, your hands grabbed his hair and you firmly (but still lovingly) pulled him close to your face. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he moaned softly.

“I‘m sorry, I’m sorry“, he mumbled blissfully and then opened his eyes to grin at you again and you sighed and pinched your nose bridge.

• he also loves to be tied up, whether that’s through handcuffs or silk, he doesn’t care. He loves the look on your face when you know that he’s at your mercy, and there’s nothing he can do about it (except say his safe word). The power in your eyes makes him squirm and he feels a wave of awe and adoration for you, his beautiful partner.

• Since we’re on the topic of worship, he’s completely into it, but on the giving end. I definitely see a lot of people say that Rafayel would be into worship for himself since he was worshipped from Lemurians, but I think that’s exactly why he wouldn’t like it from you. He left them all behind for you, all of it was for you, so he should worship you. You’re the one that made him who he is now, he chose you.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about it, Raf?“, you asked softly to the man kneeling in front of you. His head laid on your squishy thighs, which rested on a chair, while you looked out the window to the sea.

“No, my sweet spouse. There’s nothing to talk about.“, he gently rubbed your legs and spread them. Rafayel laid your legs around his shoulder and you wrapped them completely around his neck. His warm tongue softly licked against your clit and the tension trained from his face and he relaxed against you. Your fingers scratched along his scalp.

• loves to be pegged, he adores you losing control in the doggy position while you let your frustrations out. Your job is stressful, dangerous and difficult. He hates that you’re in constant danger, so he loves to help you relieve stress in a positive way. If he’s not face down in his pillows, ass up, he doesn’t want it! Make him lose control and edge him.

• loves praise and assurance, with a little bit of humiliation sprinkled in. Yes, he’s a little whore but doesn’t he look so pretty? Doesn’t he make you so happy? Don’t you love being around him? And it’s good to lay it on thick with him on the praise. Not for his ego, but just to soothe his insecurities and issues. Just love him, please.

• On the days where he’s dominant, he’ll tease you til you cry. He loves seeing you cry out of pleasure - absolute dacryphilia fiend. It’s not that he likes it when you’re sad, he hates it actually. His heart rips in two when you cry out of sadness, but when your tears are the result of his teasing, he just wants to eat you up.

Tears rolled down your soft cheeks and Rafayel laid over you protectively with a big, cheeky grin. He chuckled against your body and tenderly licked your tears off. “Oh my, it’s okay. You don’t have to cry immediately when you don’t get to cum. If anybody would see you, they’d think I was mean. Am I mean baby? Do you think I’m mean?“ his chuckle vibrated against your cheek and he softly kissed it. You whimpered and tried to squirm out of his grasp since he wasn’t giving you what you wanted. He laughed against and softly bit your cheek. “Oh I can’t resist you like this, my sweet thing. Look at you, such a cutie“. His chuckles kept going as his slender fingers finally rubbed tight and fast circles against your clit. Every single squirm was met with a hearty smile and giggle.

•when he’s protective because of your reckless behaviour, he’ll tie you up in intricate designs - shibari style. During that long time where he ties you up, he’ll comfort himself with your existence. You’re okay, you’re alive. Your body is fine, it’s as alright as it was before your mission. The trust you have in him hasn’t disappeared either, as can be seen through the immediate agreement you had when he asked you for this . He’ll gently caress your body and his fingers gently pick at the knots.

“Why did you do that?“, he asked softly. You looked at him in confusion and he shook his head. “Why did you jump in front of me like that?“, his hand softly traced over your back and he sighed sadly. You shrugged and he sighed. He’ll need to do something about that reckless behaviour of yours, he won’t survive if you’ll get hurt worse next time.

• loves drawing you nude while you masturbate. He‘ll never show these picture to anybody, but he has a whole notebook filled with your orgasm face and your masturbating body.

• his favourite position is the “69“ position. Getting pleasured while also giving you pleasure? Sign him up.

Sylus:

• he‘s a service top through and through. Lowkey, he barely cares about receiving pleasure unless you’ve cummed many times before. He receives pleasure from seeing your pleasure and every single act is just him trying to trigger an orgasm out of you.

You were writhing underneath Sylus‘ taller body. His strong, beefy arms were on each side next to your head and his calming cologne washed over you as he began to bully his huge cock into you. You felt the tip of his cock nudge your clit when his deep voice rang out a low chuckle next to your ear. With one harsh thrust he bottomed out completely and filled you entirely. You whined out and scratched his back.

“Hm? Why are complaining now, sweetie? I’m already giving you what you want. Greedy thing, just can’t get enough.“, he gently traced your cheek with his nose and picked up his pace. Sylus started thrusting in and out of you again until his balls slapped deliciously against your ass at an incredible speed, his fingers generously finding their way to your clit as he began drawing tight circles.

• he‘s a big masochist. That man loves receiving pain from you. Whether you wanna tie him up and smack him around a bit, or just scratch his back during sex, he’ll moan and grunt extra hard and that’ll be the only time where he’d come before you. Don’t get him started on the really rough sessions with the paddles and the bondage(yes this is based on that one card)… he loves seeing you in control and never wants it to stop (safewords are always there).

• also loves being edged, specially during handjobs. There’s just something about having his partner ruin his chances of having an orgasm.

“Ah- fuck, sweetie“, he lets out a loud and throaty groan and threw his head back against the headboard. He opened his eyes and smirked when saw your smug face. One hand was wrapped around his cock and the other one was roughly fondling his balls. After being edged for many rounds, you ruined the one orgasm you were gonna allow him, he breathed heavily with half lidded eyes and chuckled roughly.

“How naughty. I thought you were gonna be good to me. Was I wrong?“, he asked through his heavy breaths and his huge cock tensed up again after he saw your smug face. You gently wrapped your hand around his throat and squeezed gently. Of course you would give him what he needed,just not now in the next few rounds.

• LOVES seeing you on top, he prefers to be the one on top, but he’ll never say no to your beautiful body on top of his. Seeing your boobs jerk up and down and frankly, seeing literally everything else on you jiggle when you ride him (if that’s somebody your body is able to, if not he’ll do all the work) turns him on like no other. If he could spend his whole life here, kissing your shoulders and pretty hands, he would. Sylus also loves it when you do the work for him after you’re well taken care of, he loves your greed (it’s the dragon in him).

• adores fucking you between your tits, your heavy and soft tits pressed together with his cock bullying his way in between them. It’s the perfect way to relax after a hard day of work.

• if there’s anything you want from him, just wear some Bordeaux- red lingerie. Your beautiful, soft curves on display in his favourite colour is going to get you everything your little heart desires.

• to nobody’s surprise; he’s a total munch. Disgustingly so, some would say. He loves eating you out until your juices drip down his chest. He will eat you out for hours upon hours until your pussy is sloppy with his saliva and your cum and squirt. He will keep going btw, at this point he’s doing this for his own pleasure.

• when you get hurt during missions because of your own recklessness, he will punish you. He’ll spread you out in front of him, your body tied up with dark red silk and a vibrator pressed deep against your clit. He hasn’t moved the vibrator once after your first orgasm, and you were trying to squirm away.

“No, sweetie. Where do you think you’re going?“, he mumbled softly and pressed down on the lower half of your belly and pressed the vibrator deeper onto your abused clit. You screamed out your next orgasm and he softly leaned forward and kissed your knee. His eyes closed and he sighed heavily.

“Next time just call for backup, yes?“

• consensual stalking, that’s it. He knows that you know. That’s why you’re undressing so slowly in front of this particular spot on the wall.

• gets extremely turned on when you use his money. He loves it in general when you buy things that interest you (and it better be luxury items) but he absolutely adores it when you buy clothes. He knows how hard it is to find fat- friendly clothes in stores, and he wants you to buy everything that your heart could ever want.

You were clicking away on your laptop, your cute butt resting on Sylus‘ lap. He was gently rubbing your back and he hummed.

“Buy this one.“, he pointed to the clothing article on your laptop. You swallowed, it was exactly your style and size; looking at the price you barked out a laugh. “Yeah, right. Thats too expensive for me on a hunters budget. Maybe in a few years.“

You suddenly felt the slight press of something cold against you and he slid it up farther along your back. You turned to face him and he held up his credit card.

“Buy this one.“

•loves to pamper you and loves to be pampered. He buys the most expensive and nice smelling massage oils and loves to work them into your skin. Hearing your soft moans of relaxation while he gets to touch your entire body is heaven on earth for him. And he loves when your soft hands return the favour.

•angry sex fiend. He loves seeing you without any walls in place. The angrier you are, the better. Your raw passion and anger fill his heart with happiness and warmth, because to him it feels like you’re being honest with him without any masks.

• as much as he loves angry sex, you guys need to balance it out with the sweetest soft sex anyone could think of. Sweet lingering touches, the gentlest massages, the sweet whispers against your skin. Cumming at the same time with deep eye contact. All of it is vital for his health, actually.

• Sylus‘ favourite position is missionary turned into the lotus position at the end. He loves the eye contact you’ll share during missionary and after you both have had your orgasms, he’ll want you on his lap, talking and sharing even more gazes.

Caleb:

• when the two of you first reunited, he had no preferred role in bed. He was just happy to be with you again and would do anything you wanted him to do -desperately. His thrusts into you were frantic and tears were rolling down his eyes - whether out of sadness or longing is up to you. Caleb would also try and remind you of how many things the both of you went through, he’d desperately try and emphasise your emotional connection. He missed you so much and he’d be whatever you want him to be.

Fresh, warm tears dripped down Caleb’s cheeks. He had your soft body wrapped up tightly in his embrace while he quickly thrusted in and out of you. His face was buried in your shoulder and he gripped you firmly.

“It’s alright, pipsqueak. I’m here. I’ll take care of you, I promise I will. You remember, don’t you? I’ve always taken such good care of you. I won’t disappoint you. I love you so much.“

• after he relaxed and talked about his feeling with you, he became more tame. He still didn’t really care about which role he took in bed though, he lived to serve you, it was part of his DNA. Whether you want him to be in charge or whether you want to peg him, he’ll love to do it. Knowing you’re depending on him and opening yourself up to him could already make him cum on the spot.

• nonsexual: he loves to take care of you; if he could, he’d spend his whole life cooking for you, dressing you and taking care of every part of you. If it were up to him you’d never move a muscle. Caleb hates when you have secrets and hide things from him. It literally makes him cry. He wishes you’d tell him every single thought and wish in your mind. Caleb will need a skin to skin, deep sex session with lots of eye contact when he finds out you hid something from him.

• yes, he’s a panty sniffer. Caleb doesn’t even hide it anymore, sometimes he’ll pick up your panties in front of you and just inhale. And I mean inhale. You‘d think he was suffocating and your panty was an oxygen mask. What can he say, he loves your scent.

• since we‘re on the topic of a scent kink, he also loves it when you’re sweaty. He loves your scent in general and smells your sweaters (wholesome) when he’s stressed. And when he’s eating your pussy (not wholesome), he’ll literally take a big, deep breath through his nose before diving in to eat. And don’t get him started on when he cums in you. His nose will be buried deep inside of you.

• needs you to sit on his face, like he physically needs it to calm down. If you ever hover above his face, he’ll use his gravity evol to pull you down and you will NOT be getting up until he had his fill (he’s insatiable).

You carefully hovered over Caleb’s waiting face and tried to get comfortable enough to find a way to gently ride his face. He inhaled deeply through his nose when your fat pussy approached his waiting face and then suddenly you were pushed down. You shrieked and Caleb moaned happily, his hands massaging your asscheeks and your thighs. Caleb’s warm tongue started to work against your warm, glossy pussy and the tension drained from his face.

•will eat pussy any time. Even if it’s extremely inconvenient, he’ll drop everything and make you cum. There’s nothing better to him than tasting you.

“Pipsqueak, come on. We‘ll be late.“, Caleb exclaimed and carried your shoes in his hands. He was going to put them on for you, when he saw you on the couch. Your hands were buried in your pants and he saw that your fingers were working diligently on your pussy. Your face was scrunched up in pleasure and Caleb’s eyes softened. He gently put your shoes down.

“Oh, sweetheart. Let me take care of you, alright ?“, he asked softly and walked over to you. He softly caressed your legs with his prosthetic arm. After he undressed you entirely, he wrapped your legs around his neck and gently kissed your clit.

”It’s alright. We‘ll go next time, there’s no rush.“

• adores it when you squirt all over his chest. He’ll sit you down on his stomach and makes you lean back, you don’t have to move a single muscle. His three long, warm fingers worked their way into your pretty little hole and with his thumb he massaged your clit. His three fingers thrust in and out of you at an incredible speed and something inside of you snapped after some time. Your toes curled and your vision turned white as you painted Caleb’s chest and the lower half of his face in your juices. He gently held your feet and kissed them as you rode out the wave of your orgasm.

• Caleb loves to eat your ass. There’s something about seeing his everything spread out for him in doggy style. Easy access for him. He’d bury his entire face in your fat pussy and spread your folds to start licking long stripes from the top of your vulva to your asshole. So what if his tongue slips in once or twice?? It’s not like he’ll do it without consent (seriously, he won’t).

•loves to kneel in front of you especially in his uniform. If you’re mad he’ll just drop to his knees so that you can take your anger out. He’ll gently nuzzle your thigh and moan out when your fingers gripped his head. He loves you so very much.

• likes when you step on his balls, the mix between pain and pleasure fills him with so much joy. He knows it’ll take some time for you guys to return to the level of trust that you both had before the incident, so he’ll happily take anything you’ll give him. Seriously. If you’re into some very dark kinky stuff, don’t be shy. Tell him and he’ll spout a boner in no time.

•when you get hurt during a mission he‘ll just cry in your arms. I know people think he’ll go crazy and lock you up completely (which is fair), but I think after the both of you have returned to your normal level of trust, he’ll just cry and beg you to quit your job. He has enough money, his money is your money anyway and you can do whatever you want to. He’ll definitely try and change your mind if you say no, and he’ll try to be at every dangerous mission of yours, but that’s just not realistic. If you say yes though, he’ll never let you go again.

• Caleb’s favourite position is “the reverse scoop“, it’s basically the missionary position but each individual lays on their side as they share deep eye contact.

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Hey guys, this was my first smutty post so I’m kinda nervous to post this, lmao. I tried to keep readers body description as vague as possible because every chubby/ fat body looks different but there’s only so much I can do without leaving the bodily descriptions out completely. Comments, reblogs, likes and feedback welcome!

484 notes · View notes

clarkeyzzz · 3 months ago

Note

could you do a George Clarke one shot where him and maxs sister are secretly hooking up? All good if not x (love your work btw)

Off Limits

george clarke x balegde!reader

summary: george is secretly hooking up with max's sister. what starts as no-strings-attached turns into something more

warnings: brief mentions of sexual content

note: if this feels a little rushed im sorry, i tried not to have to write it as two parts.

4.4k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

You weren’t meant to be here.

The rational part of your brain knew that.

Yet, lying in George Clarkey’s bed, tucked under his sheets, skin still warm from his touch, you feel the weight of his arm draped over your waist. You know this is a disaster waiting to happen. But at this point, it’s almost tradition.

A night out turns into tipsy flirting. Flirting turns into one of you cracking first and texting where u at? And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re tangled up in him, his hands gripping your waist, his mouth pressing hot, lazy kisses against your neck, and the world shrinking to just you and him. The way his mouth moved against your skin, the way his hands gripped your body—it always felt like an electric current between you.

This had been going on for months now—longer than you ever expected. What started as a drunken mistake had turned into a routine. Nights out ended with you texting him, or him texting you, or one of you finding an excuse to be at the same place at the same time, until you ended up here. Sweaty, satisfied, and entirely too comfortable in his bed.

It was just sex. Really good sex. That’s all.

But it couldn't be more complicated.

For one, George Clarkey was one of your brother's closest mates.

And Max had made it painfully clear that dating YouTubers was off the table.

"They’re all walking red flags, babe," Max had said once, waving his hands for emphasis. "All of them. You’d just become another London Content Creator’s Girlfriend, and I won’t be having that."

Not that you and George were dating.

You were just… shagging George Clarke in secret.

And maybe that was worse.

But that was the key difference—the thing that made this somewhat okay.

You weren’t a couple. You weren’t sneaking around because of some grand forbidden romance.

You were just fucking.

And it was casual.

Totally.

Absolutely.

��Okay, maybe there were some complications.

Like the fact that George could be an oblivious idiot at times and that you were slowly falling for him.

As you turn your head on the pillow, watching George lazily stretch in front of you, his hair a messy tangle on the pillows, you can't help but admire how good he looks even after just waking up. He catches you staring and a smirk tugs at his lips.

"You're thinking too much," he says in a rough, sleep-filled voice, and when you glance over again he’s watching you through lidded eyes, his dark hair sticking up in every direction.

You scoff, turning onto your side. “I’m thinking about how screwed we’ll be if Max ever finds out about this.”

George smirks, his grin only grows wider as he pulls you closer until you’re pressed against his chest, his warm skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. “Then we just don’t let him find out.”

You let out a resigned sigh. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to live with him."

George chuckles, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder, and fuck—that should not feel as nice as it does.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your skin. “We’re being careful.”

You want to believe him, but a nagging doubt persists. "Are we though? Being careful?"

George's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Course we are. Max hasn't got a clue, has he?"

You bite your lip, remembering all the close calls. The time Max almost walked in on you two in the kitchen. The suspicious glances when you laughed too hard at George's jokes. The way your cheeks flushed whenever he was mentioned.

"I don't know," you mumble. "Sometimes I think he suspects something."

George's hand stills on your waist. "You worried?"

You turn to face him, studying the lines of his face in the dim light. His blue eyes are soft, filled with concern. You hate how much you like looking at him.

"Maybe a little," you admit. "It's just... Max has always been so protective. And he's made it clear how he feels about his friends dating his sister."

George's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Good thing we're not dating then, eh?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help smiling back. "Right. Just fucking."

"Exactly," George says, pulling you closer. "Nothing to worry about."

But as he kisses you, slow and deep, you can't shake the feeling that this is far more complicated than either of you want to admit.

Weeks pass, and your "arrangement" with George continues. The sneaking around gets easier, the guilt less noticeable. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But then there are nights when you catch yourself staring at him too long. When your fingers linger in his hair, when you laugh too hard at his jokes, when his hands slip under your hoodie, and you realize—this doesn’t feel casual anymore.

You don’t just look forward to those stolen moments—you need them. You tell yourself it’s about the thrill, the secrecy, the rush of slipping out of Max’s flat unnoticed. But the truth is, you like waking up in his sheets. You like the way he pulls you back into bed, groaning that it’s too early. You like how he makes you tea in the morning, knowing exactly how you take it, without needing to ask.

And suddenly, the thought of this ending makes your stomach twist.

You should say something. You should ask him if he feels it too.

But you don’t.

Because once you say it out loud, you can’t brush it off anymore.

If you admit it, you can’t take it back.

And you’re not sure if you’re ready for that.

One night, after a particularly wild party at some private club celebrating another one of the Sidemen’s achievements, you end up with a group of friends back at George‘s. The bass from the music downstairs thrums through the walls as George presses you against the door, his lips hot on your neck.

"We shouldn't," you gasp, even as your fingers tangle in his hair. "Someone could come up..."

George grins against your skin. "That's half the fun, innit?"

You're about to retort when the door handle rattles. Your heart leaps into your throat as you hear a familiar voice on the other side.

"George! You in there?"

It's Max.

You freeze, panic flooding your system. George's eyes widen, but he quickly springs into action. He shoves you towards his closet, motioning for you to hide. You slip inside just as George opens the door.

"Yeah, mate. What's up?" George's voice is impressively casual.

"Have you seen my sister? Can't find her anywhere."

You hold your breath, praying Max doesn't decide to search the room.

"Nah, sorry. Maybe she went home early."

There's a pause, and you can picture Max's suspicious frown. Your heart pounds as you listen to the conversation through the closet door. You can practically feel Max's suspicion radiating through the wood.

"Right," Max says slowly. "Well, if you do see her, tell her I'm looking for her."

"Course, mate," George replies smoothly. "I'll let her know if I spot her."

You hear the door close and let out a shaky breath. A moment later, the closet door opens and George's face appears, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes.

"Coast is clear," he whispers, helping you out.

You stumble slightly, the adrenaline making you unsteady. George's hands catch your waist, steadying you. The touch sends a familiar spark through your body, but the fear of almost being caught overshadows it.

"That was too close," you mutter, running a hand through your hair.

George nods, his expression sobering. "Maybe we should call it a night. I'll sneak you out the back."

You agree, and with George's help, manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. As you make your way home, you can't shake the feeling that your luck is running out.

The next few weeks are tense. You find yourself jumping at every sound, convinced that Max is about to burst in and catch you in the act. George notices your unease and suggests taking a break, but the thought of not seeing him makes your chest ache in a way you're not ready to confront.

As autumn creeps in, painting London in shades of gold and crimson, you find yourself spending more time at George's flat. The cozy nights in, wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, start to feel dangerously domestic. You catch yourself imagining a future where you don't have to hide, where you can walk hand-in-hand with George down the street without fear of being spotted.

One chilly evening, as you're curled up on George's sofa watching a movie, the weight of the secret becomes too much.

"George," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think we need to tell Max soon."

He turns to you, surprise etched on his features. "You sure? I thought we agreed to keep this under wraps."

You nod, twisting your fingers nervously. "I know, but... I'm tired of sneaking around. And honestly, I'm starting to think that this might be more than just casual."

George's expression softens, and he pulls you closer. "Yeah," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've been thinking the same thing."

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

It wasn’t meant to happen like this.

but apparently, George is an idiot.

The tension in the air was palpable as you walked into your shared flat to find Max holding George's hoodie like a piece of evidence at a crime scene. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why is this in our flat?" Your heart raced as you tried to play off the situation nonchalantly. "Maybe George left it here," you suggested with a shrug.

Max's gaze flicked between you and the hoodie. "In your room?"

Your throat tightened as you replied, "Maybe."

Max's mind worked like a detective on a true crime documentary at that moment, piecing together the puzzle before him. And then, his expression changed from confusion to horror, his jaw-dropping.

"You're shagging George," he exclaimed.

You winced and tried to downplay the situation. "Max—"

"YOU'RE SHAGGING GEORGE," he repeated, his voice growing louder.

Frustration and embarrassment washed over you as you dropped your head into your hands. "For fuck's sake, can you not say it like that?"

But Max was already caught up in the drama of it all, looking around wildly like he was in an episode of punked. "How long has this been going on? When did this start? Why am I just finding out now?!"

You shifted uncomfortably. "Uh...a while?"

"A while?!" Max's disbelief was evident.

"...A few months?" You offered weakly.

"MONTHS?!" Max couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It's not a big deal!" you insisted.

"Not a big deal?! You’re shagging my mate!" Max's frustration reached its boiling point.

You flinched and pleaded with him to lower his voice, but he continued to express his disbelief that this was happening behind his back. In a desperate attempt to calm him down and protect your relationship with George, you blurted out, "It's nothing serious! We're just...having fun. Casual."

Max blinked in surprise. "Casual? With George?"

You nodded, trying to defend yourself. "Yes?"

"With George?"

"Yes, Max!" you exclaimed in frustration.

Max's expression shifted as he absorbed the information and then whipped out his phone.

"What are you doing?" you asked nervously.

"Texting George," he replied, his thumbs flying across the screen. "He has five seconds to explain himself before I track him down and make him piss himself."

Before you could stop him, George walked into the flat at that exact moment.

Perfect timing, you thought sarcastically.

George froze upon seeing the tension between you and Max. His eyes flicked from you to his hoodie in Max's hands, and it was clear he knew exactly what was going on, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

"...Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"So it's true!" Max shouted. "You absolute little—"

But before he could finish his sentence, George raised his hands like a hostage negotiator. "Alright, before you get mad—"

"I'M NOT MAD!" Max yelled, which only confirmed how mad he actually was. "I'M JUST CURIOUS AS TO WHY YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?"

Max paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe this. My best mate and my sister. It's like a bloody soap opera!"

You and George exchanged nervous glances as Max continued his tirade.

"How long has this been actually going on? And don't lie to me!" Max demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

George cleared his throat. "About... six months?"

"Six months?!" Max's voice rose an octave. "You've been sneaking around behind my back for half a year?!"

You winced. "We didn't mean for it to go on this long. It just... happened."

Max let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, it just happened, did it? What, you tripped and fell onto his dick?"

"Max!" you exclaimed, scandalized.

George stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "Look, mate, I know this isn't ideal—"

"Ideal?!" Max interrupted. "This is the opposite of ideal! This is a bloody nightmare!"

He turned to you, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "And you. I warned you about getting involved with YouTubers. I told you they were all walking red flags!"

You felt a surge of defiance. "George isn't like that. He's different."

Max scoffed. "That's what they all say. And then next thing you know, you're just left high and dry”

"It's not like that," George interjected, his voice firm. "This isn't just some fling."

Max's eyes widened as he looked between you and George. "What are you saying?"

You took a deep breath, reaching for George's hand. "We didn't mean for this to happen, Max. But... it's more than just casual now."

George squeezed your hand, a small smile on his face. "We care about each other. A lot."

Max stares at you both, jaw clenched so tight you think he might actually crack a tooth. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s debating whether to pace, punch something, or just scream into the void.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing a tight circle before stopping in front of George. His glare could burn a hole straight through him.

"You," he says, voice tight. "You, out of all people."

George swallows, standing his ground. "Look, mate—"

"Don’t 'mate' me," Max cuts him off, shaking his head. He lets out a humorless laugh, but there's no amusement in his eyes. "This is actually happening. You—" he jabs a finger at George's chest, then turns to you, scandalized. "And you?!"

You don’t answer. What could you possibly say? Sorry I broke your one rule? Sorry I fell into bed with your best mate and accidentally started catching feelings?

Max lets out another deep, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—" He levels George with a look so sharp it could cut glass. "You actually give a shit about her?"

George doesn't hesitate. "Of course I do."

Max narrows his eyes, searching George’s face like he’s waiting for him to blink, to crack, to say something stupid that will give him an excuse to deck him. But George holds his gaze, unwavering.

After a long beat, Max scoffs, shaking his head. "Fuck me."

He turns away, pacing again, muttering something under his breath. You barely catch the words "This is my villain origin story."

Finally, he stops, pinches the bridge of his nose, and points a finger directly at George.

For a long moment, silence filled the room. You could practically see the gears turning in Max's head as he processed this new information. Finally, he looked up at you both, his expression resigned.

"You're serious about this? Both of you?"

You and George nodded solemnly. "We are," you said softly.

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe this is happening. My best mate and my little sister. It's like some bad rom-com."

He stood up suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at George. "If this is just some game to you, Clarke, I swear to God—"

"It's not," George interrupted, his voice firm. "I care about her, Max. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest.

Max's gaze softened slightly as he looked between the two of you. He could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you unconsciously leaned towards each other.

"Fine," he said finally, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can see this isn't just some fling. But I swear, George, if you hurt her—"

"I won't," George assured him quickly.

Max continued as if George hadn’t spoken. "—I will end you, I will make your life a living hell. I will start beef with you publicly. I will make a YouTube exposé, I will get you cancelled on Twitter. I will make sure your brand deals drop like flies. I will be so fucking annoying that you will never know peace again."

George nodded solemnly, as if this was a completely resonable response " Understood."

Max turned to you, his expression softening. "And you. You're sure about this? You know what you're getting into, dating a YouTuber?"

You smile softly at Max, touched by his concern despite his outburst. "I'm sure, Max. I know it won't be easy, but hes worth it."

Max groans dramatically, flopping back onto the sofa. "I can't believe this is my life now. My best mate and my sister. What's next, Mum dating KSI?"

You and George both choke back laughter at the mental image. The tension in the room eases slightly as Max's dramatics break through the awkwardness.

George chuckled nervously. "Does this mean we have your blessing?"

Max shot him a withering glare. "Blessing? Don't push it, mate. I'm still processing the fact that you've been sneaking around with my sister for months."

You winced. "We really are sorry about that, Max. We didn't mean for it to go on so long without telling you."

Max ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "I just... I don't understand how this even happened. When did you two start... you know?"

You and George exchanged glances, silently debating how much to reveal. Finally, you took a deep breath and launched into the story.

"It started at Cal's birthday party," you began. "We were both a bit drunk, and one thing led to another..."

Max groaned. "Please spare me the details."

You rolled your eyes. "Nothing happened that night. But after that, we kept running into each other at events and parties. We'd flirt, maybe share a dance or two. It was harmless at first." As you speak, Max's expression cycles through disbelief, anger, and grudging amusement.

"...and then we just kept finding excuses to see each other," you finish lamely. "We didn't mean for it to become anything serious, but..."

"But it did," George adds softly, squeezing your hand.

Max groans, flopping back dramatically on the sofa. Muttering something about how this wasn’t how his day was supposed to go.

He sits up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at George. "And you! What about all those girls you're always banging on about in your videos? That better all be a lie?"

George has the decency to look sheepish. "Ah, well... might've exaggerated a bit there, mate. For content, you know”

Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Exaggerated? Or flat-out lied?"

George shifted uncomfortably. "Well..."

You jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension. "Look, Max, the point is, George and I are together now. For real. No more sneaking around or lying."

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "I still can't believe this.” He stood up suddenly, pacing the room. "And what about when this all goes public, eh? Have you two geniuses thought about that? The fans will go mental. You'll be harassed non-stop."

You and George exchanged glances. It was clear neither of you had given much thought to the public aspect of your relationship.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," George said finally. "For now, we just want to focus on us. And making sure you're okay with this."

Max scoffed. "Okay with it? I'm far from okay with it. But..." he trailed off, looking between you and George. Despite his anger, he could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you instinctively leaned towards each other.

Then, after a beat—reluctantly, begrudgingly, like it physically pains him to say it— " I mean, I'd rather you weren't shagging one of my mates, but honestly?" He turned to George with a knowing look. "You could've picked worse. At least I know George. Even if he is an idiot sometimes."

George protested, but there was no real heat behind it. He knew Max was right - he could be an idiot sometimes. But when it came to you, he was determined to do better.

Relief washed over you as you threw your arms around your brother. "Thank you, Max. Really."

He hugged you back, then pulled away to point a finger at George. "And you. No funny business when I'm around, got it? I don't need to see my best mate snogging my sister."

George nodded solemnly, though you could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, mate."

Max gives him one last death glare before sighing dramatically and turning back to you. “I hate this. I hate it. I swear, if I ever walk in on anything, I'm moving out and never speaking to either of you again."

You laughed "Deal."

You and George share a glance, and suddenly, it doesn't feel as scary anymore. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for months lifts, replaced by a giddy lightness. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face, mirrored on George's.

As Max continues to grumble and mutter about the unfairness of it all, you and George gravitate towards each other. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you close, and you lean into him, reveling in the feeling of finally being able to do this openly.

The autumn sun streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. Outside, you can hear the bustle of London life - cars honking, people chattering, the distant rumble of the Tube. But in here, in this moment, the world has shrunk to just the three of you.

George's thumb traces lazy circles on your hip, sending shivers down your spine. You breathe in his familiar scent - a mix of cologne, laundry detergent, and something uniquely him. It's comforting, and grounding.

Max catches sight of you cuddling and makes exaggerated gagging noises. "Oh God, it's starting already. I'm going to need therapy after this."

You and George laugh, the sound mingling together in a way that makes your heart skip. You realize that this is the first time you've been able to laugh freely together in front of others, without worrying about giving yourselves away

As the days turn into weeks, you and George settle into a new rhythm. No more sneaking around, no more hushed whispers and furtive glances. Instead, there are lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled in his sheets, the London rain pattering against the windows. There are impromptu double dates with Max and Andrew, where you catch yourself marvelling at how natural it feels to be out in public with George, his hand intertwined with yours.

You find yourself falling deeper in love with George every day. It's in the little things - the way he makes your tea just right without asking, how he laughs at your terrible puns, it just makes your heart swell.

The YouTube world explodes when news of your relationship finally breaks. Your social media notifications blow up, a mix of excited fans, shocked friends, and the occasional hater. Your DMs are flooded with a mix of congratulations and jealous messages. You learn to ignore the hate comments and focus on the supportive messages from friends and fans.

Max, true to his word, makes a show of dramatically covering his eyes whenever you and George so much as hold hands in his presence. But you catch him smiling softly when he thinks you're not looking, and you know that deep down, he's happy for you.

As autumn fades into winter, you find yourself spending more and more time at George's flat. Your toothbrush migrates to his bathroom, your favourite mug finds a permanent home in his kitchen cupboard. One night, as you're curled up on his sofa watching old Sidemen videos (George insists it's "research"), he turns to you with a nervous smile.

"Move in with me," he says, his voice soft but sure.

Your heart skips a beat. "What?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

George takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "Move in with me," he repeats. "Half your stuff is here anyway. And I... I want to wake up next to you every morning."

You study his face, taking in the hopeful glint in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks.

Your heart swells with emotion as you look into George's eyes. The nervous hope there, the vulnerability – it's a side of him you've grown to cherish over these past months. You think about how far you've come from those first furtive encounters, sneaking around and convincing yourselves it was just casual fun.

"Yes," you whisper, a grin spreading across your face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

George's face lights up, and he pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless. When you finally part, you're both laughing, giddy with the promise of this new chapter.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of boxes, packing tape, and furniture rearrangement. Max helps you move, grumbling good-naturedly about being demoted to "pack mule" status. But you catch him giving George a stern talking-to when he thinks you're not listening, something about "taking care of my little sister, or else."

As you unpack your life into George's space – now your shared space – you're struck by how seamlessly your belongings fit together. Your books nestle comfortably next to his on the shelves. Your favourite blanket drapes over the back of the sofa, adding a pop of colour to the room. In the bedroom, your clothes hang side by side in the closet—proof that you’re done sneaking around, done pretending this is casual. Proof that this is real.

#george clarke #george clarke fics #george clarkey #george clarkey imagine #george clarke x reader #george clarkeey #george clarke fluff #georgeclarkeey #uk youtube #british youtube #youtube #youtube fanfic #british youtubers #max balegde #uk yt

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bbywriter · 3 months ago

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amateur | c. sturniolo

masterlist

summary: back in LA, nick and chris, your long distance boyfriend, stumble upon a silly little vlog you left them from boston.

pairing: christopher sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: just some cutesy fluff

notes: ahh hi everyone this is my first ever fic! i’m kinda nervous but also really excited, pls let me know what u think <3

word count: 800

—

It’s late Thursday night, and Nick is buried in editing their upcoming Friday vlog. This week’s video compiles the boys’ most recent trip back home to Boston. While scrubbing through the raw footage, he stumbles upon an unexpected clip—one clearly not meant for the final cut.

The video begins with you holding the camera, your voice uncertain as you fiddle with the buttons. “Uh… I don’t even know if this is recording properly,” you say, the shot capturing nothing but your slightly out-of-focus bedroom. The camera wobbles a little before the clip abruptly ends. Nick smiles, calling over his brother. “Chris, come look at this.”

Chris gets up from his seat at the dining table, curiosity pulling him towards his brother in the living room. He settles beside Nick on the couch before the next clip plays. This time, your face appears on the screen as you hold the camera an arms length away. “Good morning guys—Oh my god this quality is insane I can see every single one of my pores,” you mutter, leaning in closer to examine your skin on the tiny viewfinder. After a second, you abruptly flash a peace sign and pucker your lips, before laughing at yourself. “Ew, Nick please leave this out.”

Chris can’t help but smile, his chest tightening with an overwhelming fondness at the sight of you. The soft Boston sunrise filters through the open blinds, washing your room in a warm, golden light. Sunbeams stream gently from behind you, casting a soft halo around your face. You’ve clearly just woken up—your voice is still heavy with sleep, your hair tousled, and your eyes half-closed. But even through the screen, despite it all, you have Chris completely captivated.

The video continues into your makeshift vlog, where you update the camera on your plans for the day—attending a 10am lecture followed by a three-hour lab that starts at 1pm. Halfway through, you get sidetracked by a story from last week’s lab, laughing as you recount how your friend accidentally burnt her eyelash extensions from holding the Bunsen burner too close to her face.

Chris already heard this story the day it initially happened, but he could listen to you tell it a hundred times again. Watching the way your eyes literally smile before the rest of your face follows, and hearing the sweetest sound of your laughter—he could never get tired of it.

The clip stretches on for nearly six minutes as you get distracted by all the little things you suddenly remember you want to share. Finally, you circle back to the reason you’re filming in the first place—explaining how you found the camera in your purse while searching for your wallet to put in your backpack.

“Chris, you must have forgotten it in my purse when you dropped me off yesterday, but I’ll just give it to you guys when I see you later. But yeah… how was your guys’ day?” you ask, fully leaning into the content creator persona. It takes a second of realization before you cringe, your nose scrunching with visible embarrassment as you cover your eyes with your free hand. “I’m literally talking to this camera like it’s gonna answer me. This is so weird, I don’t know how you guys do this.”

Chris lets out a soft laugh, finding your awkward struggle for something that’s second nature to him so endearing.

You sigh softly and glance off-screen. “God I really hope that all recor—oh shit, ‘battery low, please connect to power’,” you read off the viewfinder. “Oh I think it’s gonna die soon. Okay, bye guys! Chris, bye baby! Love you, please text me if you saw this!”

You obnoxiously pucker your lips, leaning in to kiss the lens with a dramatic smooching sound, but just before it lands, the camera cuts off as the battery gives out. Chris stares at the screen, his heart swelling so big in his chest it feels like it would explode.

Nick nudges him, giggling. “Dude, she’s so bad at this.”

“Shut up,” Chris says, biting back a smile. “Send me those.”

Nick glances at his brother as he airdrops him the clips and teases. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face, you look like an idiot.”

But Chris doesn’t hear him. Instead he immediately screenshots the last frame—a blurry but perfect shot of your goofy kiss. Without hesitation, he sets the photo as his new wallpaper, then finds your contact.

Baby: You should start a channel baby

Baby: Gotta teach you more about the camera though haha this vid was a little ridiculous

He sends the screenshot he took.

Baby: This was cute though

Baby: You’re beautiful

Baby: Love you❤️

Baby: Miss you

He sends the last message, knowing you’re back in Boston and likely asleep by now. Still, he can’t help but smile at his phone, already counting down the days until he can see you again.

—

a/n: hi guyss :) this was just something quick i thought of, inspired by a clip from the boys’ vlog i came across the other day where madi was randomly filming their dining table or something lol. pls let me know what u think ahhh this was so fun!!!

#bbywriter ✍️#christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo

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alien-magnolia · 9 months ago

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You Saved Me

Tw: logan howlett x fem!reader, domestics, description of childbirth/pregnancy, breeding knk, fem/mutant! reader, domestics, Logan being so caring <3 18+ MDNI

A/n: please support your creators and reblog if you love this content <3 xoxo, Liz

——-

You never believed in being absolutely crushed, enamored with someone just from one instance of meeting. Just from one glance. That never fell to be true. Until you met Logan.

He saved you from Striker’s Island, saved you from life in a cage, life as an experiment, carrying you off the grounds of the facility because you had a broken leg. He was so caring, so gentle, with you that day.

You sobbed as the bone in your leg bulged out, itching to relieve itself in the fresh air, away from the mess that was your thigh. “I know it hurts. Just hold on to me, yeah? Won’t let anything happen to you,” he consoles, his gruff voice and warm, heaving chest a comfort to you as the pain from your leg was asinine — slowly killing you.

He was gentle on the night you eloped, as well. The two of you fell enamored with each other in only a span of a few months. You needed each other to heal. The two of you spend some time away from the X-mansion, back in the outskirts of the Colorado mountains.

“Let me carry you over these rocks, bub. Don’t want you to strain yourself,” he chided at you, and once again, those strong, hairy arms you loved so much, picked you up as if you weighed nothing, and carried you to the edge of the cliff. “It’s beautiful here, Logan,” you exclaim in quiet awe. “It’s nice. Private,” he replies, a large hand coming to cup your face. “You saved me, bub. After losing my brother, having all these god-fuckin’ awful memories. Had so much pain,” he sighs. “I know. You’re safe now, Lo,” your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him into a slow and chaste kiss.

—-

“Can’t! Can’t take it anymore — Lo!!,” you squealed, as his broad chest pressed up against your back, all the chest hair leaving marks on your back. His large hands cradling your front, occasionally squeezing at your plush tits, his grunts animalistic. “Doing so well, sweetheart. Taking me so well. Give me one more squeeze bub, I know you can,” he reassures, as you feel like you’re about to explode from his thick, eight inch cock ramming into you, over and over.

You’re in complete bliss as you feel his seed seeping into you. You were fertile. You were his. His claws come out as he finishes, almost touching your neck. He pulled them back quickly, checking if you were okay. “Love you so much, sweetheart. You’re my moon, I’m your Wolverine,” he whispers, as he rolls you over onto your back, wiping you with a towel. He lays down next to you, cradling you on his big chest, in an almost paternal way.

You were safe, you were loved.

He continued being the softest, gentle, man that he could be, with you. Even when the both of you returned to the Mansion. He would constantly check in on you if you were teaching class, advising the students of how you gained control of your telepathy. He would always make sure you went to bed at a reasonable time, and that you wouldn’t over exert yourself while teaching.

His love and care for you was innately fierce, and it grew even more fervorous when you told him you were pregnant. You’ve never seen the man so happy.

He was insanely protective over you. He was your shadow, always around where you were. If another at the mansion even so simply looked at you, he would get defensive. “We got a problem here?,” he would ask, claws slowly inching out. They would shake their head quickly and walk away.

He would hold back your hair as you had morning sickness, constantly ill. He would tell you everything would be okay, as you gained a bit of weight, as your hormones raged out of control.

“What do you need, bub? Water? I can make you somethin’ to eat too, don’t hold out on me, now,” he asks, as he walks into your kitchen after a long day of working with Charles on a new project. You sniffle, “I never knew pregnancy would be this hard, Lo. I’m losing it.” “Hey. You’re still my moon, y’ know. You saved me, sweetheart. Still love ya just the same, even if you’re all heavy with my kid. It’s a new life we made,” he reassures, bringing you in to the safe haven of his chest again. You smile warmly, as he continues to hold you.

He was there with you for the birth. You were in so much pain, and he held you — every step of the way. When the infant was finally out, the three of you spent hours just laying together, having skin to skin contact. “My moon. Did so well f’me, sweetheart,” he tells you, as you have your infant laying on his chest, and your fingers gently touch his beard.

He saved you, after all.

A/n: I want this man in a very bad way, a very, very, very, very bad way. Screaming. References here are from original X men movie and X men origins: Wolverine.

#liz’s masterlist #liz writes 🖤#logan howlett x reader #dom!coded logan howlett #logan howlett x fem!reader #wolverine #wolverine x female reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #deadpool and wolverine

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cheonstapes · 2 years ago

Text

miguel o'hara stars in... 'NERD!MIGUEL STARTS AN ONLYFANS' (ง ื▿ ื)ว

a/n~ this popped in my head so quick and i thought i was gonna combust if i didn’t start writng then and there٩( ᐛ )و once again all creds to @nymphomatique 💗

part 2

summary; your nerdy almost-boyfriend starts an onlyfans without you knowing.

wc; 1.6k

pairings; nerd!miguel o'hara x rich!fem!reader

cw; SMUT!!, onlyfans, miguel being embarrassed, m!masturbation, panty kink, humiliation kink, sub!miguel pretending to be a dom, miguel being obsessed with reader (//∇//), dom!reader, reader being possessive (as you should), the woman was too stunned to speak, paint me like one of your french girls, nawt proofread - i was half asleep

ok,, nerd! miguel with a secret onlyfans that he hides from you.

because he’s lowkey embarrassed

because he wants you to find it and punish him for sharing what’s yours with others

on top of that, he’s one of the top accounts on the site. i mean it’s not a surprise- he’s still hot as fuck. extremely tall, chiseled body, thick thighs, sexy face, big dick- he’s quite literally perfect, and he knows you know that.

he only started it because of you, anyway. the compliments you whisper in his ears, telling him how beautiful he is, how much you love his body, he never realised how fine he actually is. so one day whilst he was sitting in your dorm, finishing up on of your reports, he decided he would put his body to good use. you were out for the night, and you probably wouldn’t come back until the next morning so he had all the time in the world.

he scrolled through a few pics you took of him on your phone, but something was bugging him. he looked so…submissive in them. yeah, of course he enjoyed being submissive - but only for you. the idea of other people seeing him in a way that’s reserved for you and you only giving him a strange feeling in his chest. miguel was a virgin before he met you though, so being submissive was really all he knew. being dominant felt wrong, but he was willing to give it a try.

feeling a surge of confidence, he stood up from your desk, stripping himself of his shirt, leaving him clad in his loose sweats. he sat on your queen sized bed, scooting himself up to the headboard. he really was a tall motherfucker though, long legs dangling off the edges of your fluffy mattress. he props one leg up, resting his elbow against it as he angles the camera down towards his chest, bulging muscles highlighted by your warm fairy lights.

he takes pic after pic, different angles and positions around your room even using some of your toys as props. but in all of those pictures, he never showed his face - that’s for you, and nothing can change that. instead, he offered his followers a view of his plump lips, pulled into a lazy grin in every photo.

a few months pass and he’s been racking up followers like crazy, all the money he makes - he spends on you, of course, buying you bags, clothes, shoes, anything his pretty mommy desires. you don’t question where he was getting all that money from, miguel also came from a pretty wealthy family - he did still spend as much of his parents money on you as he could.

eventually, he was in the top 3 creators of the site. he started to get a bit more raunchy with his posts, after that, he blew up like crazy. the constant *pings*! from his phone, however, was a means for suspicion. since when was your little loser of a boyfriend, well he’s not your boyfriend yet, but since when was he popular? like, people only know who he is because of you, and still nothing really changed since you claimed him as yours - so what’s with this sudden boost in attention he’s receiving?

he sits across from you, at your desk again, as you glare holes into his back from your plush bed. he’s smiling at his phone, the screen hidden from your view and you can only assume the worst. he’s talking to other bitches. everyone knew you were possessive, but when it comes to miguel? that’s a whole ‘nother situation. you wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of anyone who even thought about fucking around with your miguel. having connections is a real blessing.

your tongue clicks in annoyance, voice cutting through the comfortable silence in the room as you call out to him. “miguel, give me your phone.” you hold a hand out towards him, unmoving as your face remains devoid of emotion - although your twitching eyebrow tells a lot. he looks up at you immediately, pushing his frames back up his face. “w-what d’you need my phone f-for?” it was a valid question in any other circumstance, but this wasn’t any other circumstance. this was your obedient, not so little, miguel questioning you.

your brows raise, an amused scoff leaving your glossy lisp. you raise from the bed, strutting over to him as you snatch his phone from his hand. “the fuck is up with this attitude, hm? i don’t remember teachin’ you to be a little brat.” you sneer down at him, he was pathetic, really. face flushing as he realised his mistake, stumbling over his words and whimpering soft pleas of forgiveness. “shut it.” you don’t spare him another glance, gripping his phone as you sit back on your bed, crossing your legs.

unlocking his phone was easy, his password is your birthday - you could smile at how cutely obsessed with you he is but you were too pissed off at the moment. and of course, his lock screen and wallpaper is a picture of you, the same with his instagram pfp as you scroll through his chats. everything was weirdly innocent. there were only brief dm’s between him and what seemed like old friends and some current friends you didn’t even know he had, even his snapchat was completely barren.

you double, even triple checked his socials - not even a finsta in sight. with a deep sigh, you give up. of course you weren’t going to say out loud that you were overthinking but- oh? that stupid notification sound again. you quickly looked down at his phone again, seeing a notification from twitter. you completely forgot about it - seeing as it’s not even fucking called twitter anymore.

clicking on it, your eyes widen in surprise. this whole account was a complete 360 from the miguel that grovels at your feet on a daily basis. the most teasingly sexy posts litter his feed - promising all that and more if you just clicked on the link in his bio, and that you did. miguel was watching you nervously the whole time, thinking the worst at your silent reactions. he moves to stand, hoping that just maybe he can get his phone back. “sit the fuck down.” and he sits.

what a fucking slut. your good little boy, in all these different positions, fooling his fans into thinking he’s some strong, sexy, dom. getting off in your bed, calling his fans all the nasty names you call him. the whole situation was just so funny to you. these poor people, they didn’t know how much their favourite daddy dom was in fact a little bitch, for you and you only.

there was a part of you that was happy seeing have so much confidence, as much as you want to keep him all to yourself. it was kinda hot, him trying to act all dominant. you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make your cunt throb, biting your lips as you scroll deeper, and deeper. one post in particular caught your eyes, though. it was a video, the lighting was darker than the others but his body was just as clear. you put the volume all the way up, snickering at miguel’s frightened gasp behind you.

you can see why this post had so many likes now, cause god was it sexy. miguel laid on your bed, his face not visible, chest on display as he lightly ran his strong hands up and down his body, mumbling deep praises to his fans about how ‘good’ they are for him, how well he could fuck his pretty little sluts, how they probably wish they were there with him. who wouldn’t? his fat cock was drizzled in lube, sticky, hard, and leaking all over his hand. it rested on his stomach, smearing pre all over his happy trail, as he traced a thick finger along the throbbing veins.

his moans where still just like you knew them to be, whiny and breathy, small whimpers leaking through his spit soaked lips. his hand worked himself faster, pumping up and down just like you do, skimming over his tip in the same way you do. after all, you’re the only one who knows how to use him. it feels like he edges himself forever. constantly stopping and starting, gripping onto his cock tightly to stop himself from exploding all over himself.

he pants heavily, growling softly as he pulls something up out of frame, a small black lacy thong. your black lacy thong, the same one you had on right now. he wrapped it around his aching cock, rubbing his tip along the crotch before rapidly fucking himself into the fabric. he doesn’t last long though, the thong smelt like you, he had only taken it a few minutes before he started filming - digging through your dirty laundry like some depraved perv to find the perfect pair.

only after a couple quick pumps did he spill all over the pretty fabric, his mouth hung open, chest shimmering with sweat. he brought the soiled panties to his mouth, sensually licking off his own cum before shooting a teasing smile at the camera - the video ending. you couldn’t even speak, slowly turning around to face him, his head hanging down in shame.

oh, you were gonna make sure he learnt his lesson. his fans too.

to be continued…

- i want his balls jn my mouf

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o’hara x reader #sub miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #cheonstapes #cheonstapes films!🪷

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 2 months ago

Note

sorry for back-to-back requests. i very much like the way you write.

I was wondering if you could do a one-shot where y/n replaces peggy’s place in Steve’s story as Captain America, and he goes back for her in endgame. and perhaps she was pregnant at the end of the war. sorry for all this.

Well Deserved Family Life » Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife/Pregnant!Reader with Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier, Sam Wilson/Falcon, and Bruce Banner/Hulk

Summary: After Steve takes the infinity stones back where they belong, he goes back to you and gets that family life he deserves.

Warnings: Fluff, language, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers 🩵

A/N #2: Bold text is letter to Bucky.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

After the war with Thanos and Tony’s funeral, the infinity stones needed to be taken back where they originally were. Steve decided to do that. As Bruce was getting everything ready for Steve to return the stones, he stood next to Bucky.

“Do you miss her?” Bucky asks, referring to you.

“Yes.” Steve answers softly. “I remember the day you introduced me to her.” He smiles.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so speechless.” He chuckles.

Steve chuckles and smiles at the memory of the day he met you.

“It’s ready, Cap.” Bruce says.

Steve nods. Before getting on the platform, he gave Bucky a hug. Bucky knew what that hug meant. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know.

“You’re going to go back to Y/N, aren’t you?” Bucky asks.

“I am.” Steve says.

Although, Bucky doesn’t want to live in a world where his best friend isn’t in it, he wants him to be happy.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Bucky whispers.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Steve whispers back.

Steve sighs as he pulls away from the hug. He walked over to the platform, stopping just short of the steps to get on it. He turned around to look at his best friend.

“Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” Steve says with a smile.

“How can I? You’re taking all of the stupid with you.” Bucky smiles back. “Give Y/N a hug for me.” He says.

“I will.” He says.

Steve gets on the platform. Bruce counted down before sending him to where the infinity stones needed to be returned to.

“Shouldn’t he be back by now?” Sam asks Bruce.

“He should be.” Bruce looks at the computer. “It looks like he went further than he should’ve.” He says.

“What year did he go to?” Bucky asks curiously.

“1949.” Bruce tells him.

Bucky nods and looks down.

“You ok, man?” Sam asks Bucky, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I will be.” Bucky says softly.

1949

Steve had a smile on his face as he held you close to him. You two were swaying to music in the middle of the living room. You glanced up at your husband with a smile. Steve looks down at you and kisses you softly.

Steve found his way back to you. You and him bought a house, got married, and you two have a baby on the way. This is the happiness and the family life he has been putting off for years.

Your feet started to hurt from swaying so you sat down on the couch. Steve sat down next to you, wrapping one arm around you and put his free hand on your pregnant belly. You laid your head on his shoulder. The music continued to play.

“Are you going to miss being Captain America?” You asked.

“Yes, but I’m sure Sam will be just as good as I was.” Steve says.

Steve gave you a tight hug, making you smile.

“What’s that for?” You asked with a smile.

“That’s from Bucky.” He says.

“Bucky remembers me?” You asked.

“Of course he does. He was the one who introduced us.” He says with a smile.

You smiled at the memory. You were a nurse in the Army when Bucky introduced you to Steve. You were admiring how handsome Steve was -he still is- and Steve was completely speechless.

“I’m happy that he introduced us.” You say.

“Me too.” Steve smiles.

“I miss him.” You say softly, putting your hand on top of Steve’s.

“I do too.” He whispers, kissing the side of your head.

PRESENT DAY

Bucky looked out in the distance, furrowing his eyebrows when he seen someone sitting on a bench and looking out at the water. He immediately knew that person was Steve.

“Sam…” Bucky says.

Sam looks at Bucky and then looked over at the water, seeing Steve. He walked up next to Bucky.

“Go ahead.” He says.

Sam nods and walks over to Steve.

“You decided to go further back after returning the stones, huh?” Sam says, standing next to Steve.

“Yes.” Steve smiles.

Sam seen a wedding ring on Steve’s finger.

“Wanna tell me about her?” He asks.

“I’ll let Bucky tell you.” Steve smiles.

Steve reaches down to unzip the bag his shield is in. He took it out of the bag and handed it to Sam.

“Are you sure?” Sam asks softly.

Steve nods. Sam took it from him and held it up.

“How’s it feel?” Steve asks.

“Like it belongs to someone else.” Sam says, looking at the shield.

Steve reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to Sam.

“Give this to Bucky for me please.” Steve says softly.

“Of course, man.” Sam says softly.

Steve and Sam gave each other a smile before he walked back to Bucky.

“He gave you the shield?” Bucky asks.

“Yes. He also told me to give this to you.” Sam says, handing him the envelope.

Bucky took his hands out of his pockets and took the envelope from Sam. He opened it to see a hand written letter from Steve, along with a family picture of you, Steve, and yours and his daughter Sarah.

Dear Bucky,

As you know, I went back to be with Y/N. I hope you can be happy with the decision I made. Thank you for introducing me to Y/N when we were in the Army. The little girl in the picture is mine and Y/N’s daughter Sarah Jamie Rogers. We gave her the middle name of the man who introduced her parents. I love you, man. I’m going to miss you.

Sincerely, Steve

Bucky teared up while reading the letter. He then looked at the picture, smiling when he seen how happy Steve is now and when he seen you and Sarah in the picture. He’s happy that his best friend got the well deserved family life he’s been looking for all these years.

“Who are those people with Steve in the picture?” Sam asks.

“His wife Y/N and their daughter Sarah Jamie Rogers.” Bucky says.

Sam smiles, happy that Steve got his happy ending.

“Their daughter looks just like him.” Sam says with a smile.

“She does.” Bucky smiles.

1949

“Did you feel that?” You asked when the baby kicked.

“Yes!” Steve says happily.

You looked at your husband with a smile on your face. You leaned up kissing him sweetly.

“I can’t wait for this baby to be born.” He says softly.

“Me too.” You smiled. “I love you, honey.” You murmured, pecking his lips.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He almost whispers.

Steve got the well deserved family he’s been wanting for years. He couldn’t be any more happier.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Bucky’s Doll

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fawnme1 · 24 days ago

Text

GREEN EYES, GREEN ROOM || WILLNE

summary; during a group vido shoot, will grows jealous when you get close to another creator.

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

You didn’t notice Will at first.

He’s been quiet since you arrived — surprisingly so for a shoot day. Normally, he greets you with some teasing remark, something saracastic with just enough softness to make you grin. But today, you barely get a nod as he adjusts his mic pack and mutters something to George.

You chalk it up to nervers or tiredness. Maybe the video is stressing him out. Maybe it’s nothing.

Still, something feels off.

It’s a group collab — some challenge video George came up involving trivia, forfeits, and the occasional shock collar. The energy’s chaotic, everyone shouting over each other and laughing, which makes it easier not to notice how Will’s mood curdles every time you so much as glance at the guest sitting beside you.

Tom. Newer creator. Cute. A little flirty.

You’re polite, as always. You laugh at one of his jokes. Let him steal a crisp from your plate. Just normal stuff. Friendly stuff.

But from across the room, Will’s jaw is tight.

You catch his gaze once — just for a second — and he looks away like he didn’t mean to be staring.

During a break, you wander into the green room to get some water. Your legs are still tingling from that last forefeit, and yourr cheeks hurt from laughing.

You’re halfway through unscrewing the cap when you hear the door click behind you.

Will.

He doesn’t say anything.

Just stands there, arms crossed, back against the door like he’s trying to keep the room small.

“Hey,” you say, gently. “You good?”

His eyes find yours, and you know instantly — he’s not.

“You and Tom seem to be getting on,” he says, like it’s casual.

It’s not.

You blink. “He’s nice. It’s just for the video.”

Will scoffs under his breath. “Didn’t seem like just for the video when he was basically leaning into your lap.”

You pause, water bottle forgotten in your hand.

“Are you seriously jealous right now?”

He pushes off the door. “No. I’m just observant.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Will—”

“Look, it’s not like I have a say in what you do.” His voice is sharp now, edged with something bitter. “I just didn’t think you’d be into some guy who thinks filming a mukbang gives him personality.”

It stings.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you snap. “Why do you even care?”

He hesitates.

And that’s when it clicks.

Your heart drops a little.

“Will.”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Forget it.”

“No. Don’t do that. Say what you were going to say.”

Will’s jaw tenses. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and for once, there’s no sarcasm behind them. Just raw, stripped-black emotion.

“I care because it’s you,” he says. “And because every time I think I’ve moved past whatever this is, you smile at someone else and it makes me want to punch a wall.”

Silence.

The kind that hums with unsaid things.

You take a slow step towards him.

“You’re jealous because you like me.”

He exhales — like the words took something out of him.

“Yeah,” he ays. “I do.”

And then: “I like you way more than I should.”

Your chest tightens.

Because the truth is, you like him too. You always have.

But WillNE? Will never says stuff like that. He buries everything beneath humour and awkward affection. Hearing it out loud feels like something sacred.

“I wasn’t flirting with Tom,” you said quietly. “I was trying to ignore the fact that the only person I wanted to talk to wouldn’t even look at me.”

That gets his attention.

Will blinks, caught off guard. “You mean—?”

You nod.

And then, without thinking, you step into his space, wrap your arms around his hoodie-clad frame, and rest your forehead against his chest.

He doesn’t move for a second.

Then he’s pulling you in like he’s scared you’ll disappear, holding you tight enough to say all the things he still can’t.

The door opens a crack, and George’s voice breaks through.

“Oi, you two done sulking or do I need to pair you up for the next round?”

Will pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you.

You both laugh, breathless.

“Coming,” Will calls, voice still rough.

He glances down at you. “We’ll talk later?”

You nod. “Definitely.”

And when he laces his fingers with yours as you walk back out, you don’t let go.

#fawnme1 #willne #willne x reader #will lenney x reader

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lovelybucky1 · 2 months ago

Text

4. The Hangover

wc- 1.9k // main masterlist // go greek! masterlist // tw: alcohol consumption, sexual themes

The first thing you notice when you wake up is how comfortable you are. There’s no doubt that you’re in a college bed, but one with a nice, thick mattress topper that forms to the contours of your body and shields you from the poor excuse for a bed the college provides.

The next thing you realize is your outfit. You’re no longer wearing your bikini top and denim shorts. Instead, you’re in a t-shirt that is obviously not yours and you’ve lost the shorts, leaving you in just your panties. You open your eyes, and once you suffer through the initial shock of daylight, you realize you recognize the shirt Bucky was wearing the previous night.

Immediately, you sit up. Am I in Bucky’s bed? You look around the room but you don’t see any of Steve’s artwork or Bucky’s sports jerseys. So if I’m not in their room, where am I?

The side of the room you’re in is covered with band posters. Tyler, The Creator, Childish Gambino, Foo Fighters, Red Hot Chili Peppers. There’s a guitar leaning against the wall next to the desk and a mess of CDs in a milk crate.

The other side of the room is less decorated. There are photos on the walls and, squinting, you can make out Sam in some of the pictures. This must be his and Joaquin’s room.

Thinking about Joaquin, memories of last night come rushing back. You groan and bury your face in the pillow, his pillow, as you remember how you kissed him. How he didn’t kiss you back.

You understand why he didn’t. He’s a self-proclaimed gentleman and would never do anything without your consent. You certainly weren’t in a state to consent last night. It should bring you comfort that he was so respectful, but that feeling is overshadowed by the burn of shame in your cheeks.

You’re brought out of your wallowing by the sound of the door creaking open. You look up to see Sam tiptoeing in, but he freezes when he sees you awake.

“Did I wake you?” he asks, whispering. You shake your head. “How’d you sleep?”

“Alright,” you respond groggily, voice thick with sleep.

“How’s the hangover?” he asks with a small chuckle. You groan as you sit up, which seems to be enough of an answer for him.

“How did I get here?” you ask.

“Joaquin and Buck practically carried you.” That’s so embarrassing.

You look down at yourself. “And the shirt?”

“You put that on yourself, don’t worry. Bucky didn’t want you to go to sleep in what you were wearing. I’ve never worn a bikini before, but they don’t look comfortable,” he jokes. “Do you want breakfast?”

The thought of eating makes your stomach churn, but you suppose something light might make you feel better. You agree to breakfast but as you slide out of bed, you realize you don’t have any bottoms on.

You pull on your denim shorts, which lay on the floor next to the bed, and Sam busies himself with his phone while you do. Once you’re presentable enough, you follow Sam downstairs.

Logan, Matt, and Bucky all sit at the counter eating breakfast while Frank stands at the stove. You slide onto the stool next to Logan, who gives you a gruff morning.

“There she is!” Bucky chuckles. “Little miss lightweight.”

He gets down from his stool and comes around to your side of the counter, leaning his muscular forearms on the marble so he is almost eye level with you. He has a teasing smile on his face and you know that it’s too early for whatever’s about to come out of his mouth.

“How ya feeling?” he asks.

“Fine,” you say, leaning your head against your hand.

“Yeah? That’s pretty good considering the way you were off your ass last night.”

“Bucky,” you groan.

“My shirt looks good on you,” he winks before pushing off the counter and returning to his breakfast.

“Buck, remember last semester when you threw up on that Phi Sig chick?” Logan asks.

You look up at him to see a small smirk on his lips. Bucky glares, obviously not pleased that Logan is sharing that embarrassing memory. You have to stifle your laughter.

“She was so pissed,” Frank adds as he slides a plate of scrambled eggs in front of you. He gives you a fork and you thank him, glad to have something in your stomach that isn’t alcohol.

As you eat, you listen to the boys bicker back and forth. You feel bad for Matt, who’s caught between Logan and Bucky. Sam stands at the end of the counter next to Bucky, eating a bowl of cereal, and observing.

“I’m just saying, you’re not one to judge how someone acts when they’re drunk,” Matt says.

“At least I don’t ask to touch girls' faces,” Bucky scoffs. That catches your attention.

“What?”

“It’s his signature move,” Frank says. “Says it helps him picture them or some bullshit.”

“It does!” Matt defends.

“Whatever,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes.

Having enough of the conversation, you clean up your dishes and slip out. On your way back upstairs to gather your things, you run into Karen coming out of the bathroom.

“Oh my god,” you gasp when you see her dressed similarly to you, in a large t-shirt that clearly belongs to Frank. Both of you giggle, trying to muffle the sounds.

“How was it?” you ask.

“No, you first.”

“No, no, I didn’t-”

“What? Then why are you,” she gestures to your shirt.

You hide your face in your hands. “I got too drunk and had to be carried to bed.”

“Oh no,” Karen laughs. You shouldn’t have expected to get sympathy from her.

“That’s not even the worst part. I kissed Joaquin.”

Karen’s mouth falls open, comically wide. “Oh my god.”

“I know,” you groan.

“Was it good? I mean, he’s hot.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. “I kissed him. He didn’t kiss me back because I was too drunk.”

“Yikes,” Karen sighs. “It could be worse though. He said you were too drunk, not that he didn’t want to. You know what you have to do now,” she says like you have any idea what she’s getting at. “You have to kiss him sober.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Why not? Obviously, you like him enough to throw yourself at him.”

“I’m not doing that,” you say. “Now tell me about your night!”

“Okay, okay,” she says, grinning ear to ear. “It was so amazing.”

“How big?” you ask, momentarily forgetting you’re in the house and not in your dorm room.

“Big,” she says. The look on her face tells you everything. “And he did this thing with his tongue-”

Before she could go into any more detail, Joaquin walks out of Bucky and Steve’s bedroom. He stops when he sees you both in the hallway, and you hope he didn’t hear what you were talking about.

“Morning, ladies,” he greets. He has that same charming smile he always does.

“Good morning,” you both respond.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks you.

“Oh, uh, good,” you say, suddenly feeling extremely awkward. “Thank you for helping me and everything. You didn’t have to give up your bed for me.”

“No worries,” he smiles. “Sam and I had a little sleepover with Wade and Logan.”

“Um… I’m sorry about last night. I was way out of line,” you say as you wring your hands.

“It’s okay,” he says, placing his hand on your wrist to stop your fidgeting. “Really. You were drunk and it’s just a heat of the moment kind of thing. It’s all good, I promise.”

Despite him reassuring you, you don’t really feel better. Yes, you were drunk and you kissed him, but you don’t want him to think you’re that kind of girl. Am I that kind of girl?

“Okay,” you say. It’s far too simple of a phrase to encapsulate everything you’re feeling, but you think it’s better to keep those feelings to yourself.

Joaquin gives your wrist a reassuring squeeze before brushing past you to go downstairs. Once he is out of sight, you relax a bit. You’re no longer in the mood to hear about Karen’s night with Frank, but you promise her she can tell you every dirty detail when you’re back in your room later.

You go back into Sam and Joaquin’s room to grab your bikini top and put on your shoes. You hope to get out of here as quickly as possible to save yourself from any more embarrassment that could come.

You go back downstairs and you almost successfully sneak out the door without anyone noticing, but your attention is caught by Steve’s voice. Steve’s and a woman’s voice.

“Can I see you later today?” he asks.

“Can’t. I have to rehearse for my ballet duet with my sister.”

You peek around the corner into the dining room and see Steve talking to a striking redhead. She’s wearing the clothes she likely wore last night and she somehow still looks beautiful. Her hair is messy in an effortless way, not like tangled bedhead. Sam also stands with them, so you assume she’s an upperclassman you’ve never crossed paths with.

“Some day you’re gonna get tired of pretty-blue-eyes and want to give tall-dark-and-handsome a try,” Sam chimes in. “You know what they say.”

The woman only laughs. “See you around, Steve.”

The dismissal makes Steve’s shoulders slump a bit. You’ve never seen him any way other than with his head held high.

Before you can attempt to hide, the woman walks past the staircase and out the door. She doesn’t see you, thankfully, but you get a good look at her. Her hair is shoulder length, a blunt and bold cut that makes her look like a model. And she does ballet. No wonder Steve is interested.

It makes something inside you ache with jealousy. Steve isn’t your boyfriend, and he’s never even hinted at being interested in you. The two of you just met and he obviously has a history with this woman.

Once she’s gone, you try to slip out the door, but Sam and Steve both catch you. Steve calls your name and you sigh, knowing he’s going to ask you about last night.

“Stealing Bucky’s shirt?” he asks instead.

“I don’t really want to walk home in a bikini,” you say.

“You might cause a couple of accidents on the way,” Sam jokes. You appreciate the compliment but after seeing that woman, you doubt he’s being genuine.

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “But I have to get back.”

The look on Steve’s face tells you he thinks you’re acting differently. It’s slightly humiliating that he notices something is wrong because you’re not hanging on his every word, but now isn’t the time to reflect on how enamored you’ve become by all of the guys.

“Okay,” Steve says. “Thank you for your help with the party, you did a really great job.”

“Thanks,” you respond, chancing a look into his gorgeous eyes.

“Will you be at the meeting tomorrow?” he asks as you turn your back.

“Yeah.”

“See ya, sweetheart,” Sam says as you walk out. You give them both a wave but don’t look back.

Once you’re a ways down the sidewalk, you let yourself think about how complicated your life has gotten in the past week. You drunkenly kissed Joaquin, Bucky is constantly trying to charm his way into your pants, Steve is so kind, Sam and Matt are charming and funny, Logan and Frank are protective, and you have so much in common with Wade.

How have you managed to fall for all of them so quickly? A better question is, how are you going to make it out of this without going insane or getting hurt?

259 notes · View notes

vibelladonna · 4 months ago

Text

✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo has officially claimed the spot as MY favorite character in TKATB. Honestly, It’s well-deserved. As an asexual person writing about an asexual-coded character, I have to say—there’s something about him that just hits differently.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

It’s like he sees you in a way that most characters don’t. And let’s be real, when Geo looks at you, it’s not just some fleeting glance—it’s intense, calculated, almost suffocating.

But romantic?

Nah. With him, it’s something else entirely.

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

Okay, so let’s talk about Geo as a boyfriend. First of all, congratulations on making that happen. Like, seriously, how did you pull it off? If you’re dating Geo, consider yourself very lucky.

Nah, he's lucky for dating you.

Because let’s be real, Geo is not the type to just open his heart to anyone. This man’s walls are practically made of steel, and I’m sure it took some serious patience, persistence, and probably some sorcery to get him to even consider letting you in.

But hey, you did it. So now you’ve got yourself the most stoic, broody, and incredibly hot boyfriend. So let’s break it down!

✑ The Silent Observer

Like said, getting close to Geo? Oh man, that was like trying to break into a vault without the code. And let’s be honest, at first, you probably weren’t even trying to get to him—he just happened to be standing there while you were hanging out with Crowe.

But of course, Geo being Geo, he’d hit you with those cold, piercing stares that made you question every single life choice.

And don’t even get me started on his bluntness. He’s the definition of the strong, silent type. He only speaks when he thinks something needs to be said, which means you’re never getting any filler or small talk from him. It’s not that he’s rude—he just values words and doesn’t see the point in wasting them.

He’d just say it. Straight up. No filter.

However, he does talk—pretty much one sentence though, it’s worth listening to because you’ll quickly realize how sharp he is. Geo’s intelligence and observant nature are on another level too…

The kind of observant where he notices everything. He’s like that one friend who knows all the drama without ever saying a word. While Brittany would spill the tea loudly and proudly, Geo keeps it all locked away in that steel trap of a brain. He’s always watching, analyzing, and probably always two steps ahead.

It’s part of what makes him such a great strategist but also why he’s so cautious about trusting anyone.

So, instead of running for the hills like most people would, you stayed. And honestly? That’s probably what made him start noticing you. You didn’t back off, didn’t try to fix him, didn’t push him to be someone he’s not—you just… stuck around.

Geo doesn’t do well with people who pry or force their way in. But the fact that you respected his space and still made the effort to be there?

Yeah. That got to him.

Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.

What’s crazy is how much he notices. Stuff about yourself that even you haven’t realized? Yeah, he’s already picked up on it. He’s the kind of guy who remembers your favorite drink, the way your fingers fidget with your sleeves when you're anxious, or that offhand comment you made weeks ago about something you wanted.

It’s honestly a little unsettling how much he takes in, but at the same time? It’s one of the ways he shows he cares.

Geo’s not the type for over-the-top romance or constant sweet talk, but his actions?

Louder than words.

He’ll fix something before you even realize it’s broken, hand you exactly what you need before you think to ask, and make sure you’re taken care of in ways that feel so effortless it’s almost unfair.

And when he does say something heartfelt? You know it’s real. Because Geo doesn’t just say things for the sake of saying them. When he speaks, he means it.

Again, he picks up on everything. The way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love is the exact moment you start zoning out because you're tired.

He stores all that information away like it’s second nature—and then he uses it to make your day without you even realizing it.

now i'm rambling here

Like, don’t be surprised if your favorite snack just magically appears when you’re having a rough day. Or if you casually check your bag one day and find tickets to that movie you’ve been dying to see—no note, no explanation, just Geo making sure you get what you want without making a big deal out of it.

If you ask him about it? He’ll just shrug like, “What? You wanted it, didn’t you?”

And let’s not even get started on your birthday. Geo is ridiculously rich—it’s not even funny. He pretends he might forget (just to mess with you), but he’s had a reminder set forever, not that he needs it.

At the end of the day, Geo’s way of showing love isn’t flashy—it’s in the details. He pays attention. He remembers. He knows you probably better than you know yourself. And honestly?

That’s what makes it so unfairly attractive.

✑ Low-key Romantic

Alright, let’s be real—Geo isn’t the kind of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve. If anything, he’s probably got it locked away in a vault with a “Do Not Disturb” sign and a security system to keep everyone out.

But when Geo cares? He cares.

No half-measures, no second-guessing. Like I KNOW he's no heartless now.

If he lets you in—which, let’s be honest, is a miracle in itself—you have his full, unwavering loyalty. And why would he want anyone else? Geo’s not the type to jump from person to person.

When he chooses you, he chooses you.

That said, he’s also not about to make a big spectacle out of it. He keeps his love life locked down tight—partly because he’s private, but mostly because he refuses to let you deal with the chaos that comes from his fanbase and personal life.

He hates the idea of you getting swarmed by fangirls the way he does or his father knowing about you.

But that doesn’t mean he hides your relationship entirely.

Once in a blue moon—maybe once or twice a month—he’ll drop a little something on his Insta story. Just a picture of the two of you together. Your face? Hidden. No tags. No captions. But his friends and fangirls lose their minds over it every single time.

Because let’s be real—you’re both ridiculously attractive.

They'll eat it up.

And listen, Geo isn’t about that over-the-top romance or dramatic love confessions. He’s not the type to shower you with sweet words or be all over you in public—PDA? Yeah, it's not really his thing.

Hate is a strong word, but let’s just say he’s not a fan.

When you first start dating, physical affection is practically nonexistent. But the closer you get, in private? Oh, ohhh, you realize real fast—this man is touch-starved. Like, embarrassingly so. He won’t outright say it but quietly melt into your touch when you play with his hair.

His favorite spot? Your lap. Or chest.

Geo lives for lying there while you run your fingers through his hair-shockingly soaking up your warmth like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. After a long, exhausting day of archery practice? Yeah, that’s his go-to way to unwind.

Now, when it comes to kisses, this man is sneaky.

His favorite spot to kiss? Your neck. Why?

Because he likes watching you absolutely malfunction. Geo loves getting a reaction out of you, and nothing flusters you quite like that.

As for him? He likes being kissed on the cheek (if you can reach it, that is). Something about it feels so innocent and genuine—a rare, pure moment in the mess of a world he deals with daily.

Also, let’s talk about jewelry: Necklaces or rings, for example. Not as much or for any deep reason—he just thinks they look cool, and he likes looking cool. But here’s where it gets cute: he buys you a simpler ring to his that matches your vibe.

Nothing fancy, still expensive just a simple little reminder that you’re his, and he’s yours. You wear them every day, and they become something sentimental.

And the best part? Before archery matches, Geo’s been caught kissing the end of his necklace or ring for good luck. And when you tease him about it later? He doesn’t even flinch.

He just deadass looks at you and goes, “Yeah, I thought you’d send me the luck I needed to win. Not like I needed luck though—I’m just that—”

Just shut him up with a kiss already.

✑ Protective But Not Overbearing

Oh, Geo’s insanely protective—like, the kind of guy you just know has your back, no questions asked. But don’t get it twisted—he’s not clingy, not overbearing, and definitely not the type to smother you.

That’s just not his style.

He’s more of a silent guardian type, always watching, always aware, but never in your way. He trusts you to handle yourself, and honestly? That says everything. Geo knows you’re capable, and he’s not about to hover like some overprotective watchdog.

But let’s be real—if someone steps out of line with you?

Oh, it’s game over.

Geo may seem calm and composed most of the time, but when it comes to you? That sharp tongue of his? Lethal. He’s not loud, he’s not dramatic—he’ll cut people down with a single sentence and leave them wondering where they went wrong.

And let’s not forget—this man is an archer. If someone really pushes their luck, they better hope they’re nowhere near a target, because one glare from him and a perfectly-placed bullseye is all it takes for people to get the message loud and clear.

No threats are needed. Just precision.

The best part? Geo doesn’t do theatrics. No chest-puffing, no dramatic speeches—he shuts down nonsense with a few words and an energy so cold it could drop the room temperature. And maybe, just maybe, he’d beat the absolute shit out of someone in secret. Not that he’d ever tell you, of course.

But you’d know.

Because, well… you have a habit of playing with his hands when you’re both just chilling on the couch, and he lets you. Always. Which is exactly how you spot it—bruised knuckles, faint red marks across his pale skin, like he just went a round or two with someone’s face.

You narrow your eyes, tracing over the fresh marks. “Geo.”

He doesn’t look up from his phone. “What.”

“What happened to your hands?”

His fingers twitch slightly, but his expression stays flat. “Nothing.”

You glance between him and his definitely-not-nothing knuckles. “Oh, really? So, what, did you punch the air too hard?”

Geo exhales sharply, finally meeting your gaze. “You ask too many questions.”

You tilt your head, unimpressed. “And you deflect too much.”

For a second, it looks like he’s about to actually answer. Then, without missing a beat, he shifts entirely. “Hey, did you see that dumbass thing Deryl did today?”

You blink. “Geo—”

“No, because seriously, this idiot tried to—”

And just like that, the conversation is over. You could push it, but knowing him, you’d be sitting here for hours listening to him insult Deryl instead of getting an actual answer. So, for now, you just sigh and go back to playing with his fingers.

You’ll find out eventually. You always do.

That being said… he might keep you away from his older stepbrother, Hyugo, just to be safe. And honestly? Probably for the best.

At the end of the day, Geo’s way of protecting you isn’t about control—it's about making sure you’re safe without ever making you feel trapped. And honestly? That kind of quiet, no-BS loyalty?

It’s unbeatable.

✑ He Knows, always.

Geo? Oh, trust me, he absolutely knows how you’re feeling at all times, and he’s not shy about using that to his advantage.

Like I said, this man is fully aware you think he’s hot, and he uses that like a secret weapon.

If you’re mad at him? He’ll stand there, nodding along like he’s paying attention, but his eyes? Oh, they’re locked onto your face with that look—intense, unreadable, the kind that just stops you in your tracks.

Suddenly, whatever you were mad about doesn’t seem so bad because, holy hell, why is he looking at you like that? And if you somehow manage to keep your train of thought for, like, half a second?

He turns it up.

Without a word, he’ll gently cup your cheek WITH ONE HAND, tilt your face up so your eyes meet stern but soft eyes ofhis, and just like that? Poof, every rational thought you had flies out the window. Like how are you supposed to stay mad at him when he looks like that?

It’s impossible.

He knows it. You know it. Game over.

But it’s not just about teasing you or getting a rise out of you—Geo actually listens. Like, for real. When you’re upset, he’s not the type to bombard you with empty words or push you to talk. Let’s be real, the dude doesn’t do feelings.

Instead, he just sits next to you, hands you tissues like he’s a human Kleenex, and lets you lean on his shoulder without saying a word. His presence is like a steady rock in the middle of a storm.

No talking is needed. He’s just… there. Solid.

And, honestly, it’s pretty damn comforting. It’s not that he doesn’t care—he just has his own way of showing it.

A slow, silent walk to clear your head. A softened tone when he speaks. A steady hand on your back when words don’t feel enough.

And look, this is something I find insanely attractive, but when you’re just having a normal conversation with him?

Geo will hit you with the ultimate power move—leaning back in his seat, raising an eyebrow, smirking just enough to make your heart stutter. He’ll hum, all low and lazy, like, “Mhm? Oh, really?”

And the worst part? He’s fully aware of how your face heats up when he does it.

Yeah. He’s the worst. And also so unfairly hot.

✑ Tailored to You

Geo and the five love languages? Well… Spoiler alert: this man is low-key okay at all of them, even if he’ll never admit it.

— Words of Affirmation?

So… Compliments?

Yeah, don’t hold your breath. He’s not going to gush about how you’re the most incredible person on the planet.

But when he does say something nice? Oh, it means something. If Geo tells you, “That was impressive,” just know he’s basically screaming, “I’m so proud of you” on the inside.

And if you ever compliment him? Expect a half-hearted shrug and a muttered, “I guess,” but deep down, you know he’s preening like a cat that just caught a mouse.

— Acts of Service?

This is where Geo shines. He’s not going to say, “I love you” outright, but he’ll carry your bag, or make sure you’re eating when you’ve had a rough day.

Dating Geo means having someone who sees you, even when you think no one else does. He’s a protector, a confidant, and someone who keeps things real—all wrapped up in a broody, mysterious package.

Need something heavy moved? Done. Can’t open a jar? No problem. He’s like a one-man life support system, quietly taking care of you while pretending it’s no big deal.

— Receiving Gifts?

Geo doesn’t do flashy gifts, but when he gives you something? It’s weirdly specific and thoughtful. Like, you’ll casually mention liking a certain anything once, and boom—it’s sitting in front of your door the next day. He’ll pretend it’s not a big deal, though.

“Oh, I just saw it at the store,” he’ll say, even though you know he went out of his way to get it.

— Quality Time?

This one is Geo’s bread and butter. He’s all about meaningful moments. Forget big group hangouts or extravagant plans—he’d rather spend a quiet evening with you, just existing in the same space. You could be doing something as mundane as grocery shopping, and he’d still find a way to make it feel special.

And if you’re both just sitting in silence, reading or scrolling on your phones? That’s peak romance for him.

— Physical Touch?

All right, let’s be real—Geo isn’t big on touchy-feely stuff. He’s the type to freeze up if someone hugs him unexpectedly. But with you? He warms up to it. He’s still awkward as hell at first, but over time, he’ll start initiating small touches—a hand on your shoulder, brushing hair out of your face, or even holding your hand when no one’s looking.

And if you hug him? He’ll grumble about it, but he secretly loves it.

In conclusion? Geo’s love language is basically Geo Language—quiet, understated, and 100% tailored to you. He’s not going to shout his feelings from the rooftops, but if you pay attention, his actions scream, “You’re my person, and I’m not letting you go.”

✑ Tailored to Him

So you wanna know Geo’s love languages? As unique as he is and if we had to rank them, here’s the holy trinity that makes this stoic archer tick:

Geo is an independent guy, but even the most self-sufficient people need someone who understands them. He craves someone who respects his need for space but knows when to step in with the right kind of support.

— Acts of Service (His #1, obviously)

Geo isn’t the type to ask for help—he’s too independent for that. But when you step in and do something thoughtful for him without being asked?

That’s how you win this man over.

He’s got this quiet appreciation for when people notice the little things, like brewing him tea when he’s had a rough day or cleaning up his gear after practice. Bonus points if you surprise him with something related to his hobbies, like a rare Japanese opera recording or a new pot for one of his plants. Acts of service show him that you’re paying attention, and trust me, he notices.

— Quality Time

Geo doesn’t want loud, over-the-top outings or big social gatherings. In fact, the less noise and chaos, the better. What he really craves is quiet, intentional moments with someone who just gets him.

Sitting together in a cozy home, tending to his potted plants, or watching the intricate art of shadow puppetry—these are the things that speak to his soul. Geo thrives in these quiet spaces where he can relax, reflect, and enjoy meaningful companionship.

Just don’t interrupt if he’s hyper-focused on something. He’ll side-eye you into another dimension.

— Receiving Gifts

Okay, hear me out—Geo hates getting gifts, right? I mean, he literally burned the random Valentine’s Day presents people gave him that one time. Absolute menace behavior, but honestly? It’s kind of funny in a this-man-does-not-care way. But here’s the twist: Geo’s not against all gifts. He’s just very particular.

See, he doesn’t want over-the-top, flashy stuff. No giant teddy bears, love letters, heart-shaped balloons, or anything that screams “cliché.” If you even think about giving him something generic, he’ll give you that deadpan look that could shrivel your soul. However, thoughtful, personalized gifts?

That’s a whole different story.

Picture this: you show up with a sleek, modern pot for one of his beloved plants, or maybe a rare variety of seeds that he hasn’t gotten his hands on yet. Geo would never say it out loud, but inside?

He’s lowkey impressed.

Or let’s say you score him tickets to a Japanese opera—something you know he’d appreciate but would never bother getting for himself. Now, that would leave him quietly staring at you like,

“…You actually get me?”

And don’t even get me started on shadow puppetry. If you found a book about advanced techniques or a vintage lamp to use for creating the perfect shadows? You’d probably see the faintest flicker of a smile—like, barely there, but it counts.

With Geo, it’s not about spending a ton of money or going big. It’s about showing that you know him—that you’ve paid attention to his quirks, his hobbies, and the things that make him tick.

When the gift reflect his personality and interests?

That’s when you see the softer side of him, the part of him that’s secretly thinking, “...How did I end up with someone like this?”

And yeah, he might not say that, because Geo and verbal affection are basically strangers. But the way he takes care of that plant pot or treasures that opera ticket?

That’ll tell you everything you need to know.

✑ Cultural Depth

Geo’s all about his Japanese roots, but he doesn’t go around making a big deal about it. It’s in the small things—the quiet traditions he carries, the way he’ll casually drop some next-level cultural knowledge.

— Sharing His World (Quietly)

Geo isn’t the type to throw you into the deep end of his culture, but if you hang around him long enough, he’ll start to let you in. It’s like a slow reveal in a really good book—you don’t even realize you’re getting hooked until you’re deep into it.

He’ll start small, teaching you a word or two in Japanese. Nothing too complicated at first—basic phrases like arigatou or ohayou. God writing this is killing me…

But if you’re patient (and don’t butcher the pronunciation), he might hit you with the poetic, meaningful stuff. Like, “The moon tonight reminds me of home,” kind of poetic.

And food? Oh, he’s low-key a food snob, but in the best way. If he takes you out for sushi, don’t embarrass him by drowning it in soy sauce, okay? He might roll his eyes, but deep down, he’ll think you’re a lost cause.

Bonus points if you ask him to show you how to make something traditional, though. Watching him calmly explain how to roll onigiri while being so exact about it? Weirdly cute.

— Secret Nerd Side

Geo doesn’t advertise it, but he has a soft spot for traditional Japanese arts. Shadow puppetry? Yeah, that’s a thing he knows. He won’t just show you for fun, though—you’ll have to ask and even then, it’s going to be, like, the most casual display ever. He’ll make a crane with his hands in the middle of a quiet moment, the shadow falling perfectly on the wall, and act like it’s no big deal.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, wondering if he’s secretly an 80-year-old trapped in a hot college guy’s body.

Oh, and don’t even get him started on Japanese opera. It’s his go-to when he needs to vibe or think. You might catch him with his headphones in, looking all stoic, and he’s probably listening to something hauntingly beautiful and dramatic. But good luck getting him to admit it.

✑ Such Spa Days

If there’s one thing you should know about Geo, it’s that he takes self-care very seriously.

Like I just know he's the type whose morning routine consists of opening the window to let in fresh air, taking a deep breath, morning yoga, skin care, meditation, and drinking his favorite tea, that's how he starts his day.

Also this man isn’t just about keeping clean—he’s practically the ambassador of flawless skin. His routine is a whole event, and don’t even think about interrupting it unless you want to be met with one of his signature cold stares.

Geo’s all about precision, from his perfectly tied low ponytail to his smooth, glowing complexion that looks like it came straight out of a skincare ad.

He’s the guy who has a shelf full of serums, toners, face masks, and creams, all neatly organized by purpose and ingredient list. Oh, and he definitely uses products with names you can’t pronounce but that sounds expensive.

He’s from the rich side of the society anyway…

Sunday nights? They’re sacred.

You’ll find Geo in full spa mode, complete with a fluffy towel draped over his shoulders and maybe even some calming Japanese opera music playing softly in the background. He’ll light a candle (something subtle, probably sandalwood or green tea) and go through his routine like it’s a religious ceremony.

Cleansing, exfoliating, masking—he’s got it all down to a science.

And don’t get him started on baths. Geo’s baths are an experience. He’ll fill the tub with just the right temperature water, toss in some herbal bath salts or a soothing bath bomb, and relax like he’s starring in a luxurious retreat commercial. He even has a book propped up nearby or maybe a cup of tea to complete the vibe.

The best part? Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just about himself—it’s an extension of his personality. He values control and discipline, and his skincare routine is a reflection of that. Every step, every product, is carefully chosen because it’s his way of staying grounded in a chaotic world.

Now, if you’re lucky enough to be part of his life, he might invite you into his sacred self-care space. Don’t expect anything over the top, though. Geo’s not going to gush about it, however he’ll casually hand you a face mask or suggest a product he thinks you’ll like.

It’s his way of saying, “I care,” without actually saying it.

But be warned—if you touch his stuff without asking, he’ll probably give you a look that could freeze fire or straight up cruse you out becasue why are you touching his stuff without asking.

He’s protective of his skincare collection, and for good reason.

You’ll never forget the day you used his serum without permission and had to endure a five-minute lecture about 'proper application techniques' while he looked genuinely offended.

Now, let’s get one thing straight: Geo’s devotion to skincare doesn’t just stop with himself. Oh no, if you’re doing it wrong, he will notice—and he will step in.

Say you’re casually applying your skincare collection one day, just slapping it on like it’s sunscreen at the beach.

Geo, from across the room, will stop dead in his tracks, narrow his aquamarine eyes, and calmly say, “What are you doing?” in a tone that sends shivers down your spine.

Before you can even protest, he’s already approaching with that look—the one that says, “I didn’t want to get involved, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Geo doesn’t offer to fix your skincare routine; he takes over. He’s not the type to sugarcoat it either. “You’re wasting product,” he’ll mutter, carefully squeezing the perfect amount of serum onto his fingertips before gently patting it into your skin. “And you’re supposed to press it in, not rub it like you’re sanding wood.” And "Don't use that one, it's bleach your skin."

And honestly? He’s ridiculously good at help you.

His hands are steady, his movements precise, and for someone who doesn’t talk much, he somehow explains every step with just enough detail to make you realize how little you knew about skincare to begin with.

Geo is not one for half-measures, so don’t be surprised when he starts rearranging your entire routine. Suddenly, you’ve got a multi-step process you never asked for, complete with double cleansing, toners, serums, and a nightly mask rotation.

You didn’t even know what a niacinamide serum was before, but now you have one, and you’re using it correctly, thank you very much.

The funniest part? Geo never complains about doing your skincare. He acts mildly exasperated, sure, but you catch the tiniest flicker of pride when your skin starts glowing like his.

And while he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly likes having an excuse to take care of you. It’s his way of showing he cares without all that messy emotional talk.

But if you dare to slack off? Oh, you’ll hear about it.

“You didn’t put on sunscreen today, did you?” he’ll ask, his tone low and judgmental as he crosses his arms. “Don’t come crying to me when you age prematurely.” And yet, despite all the teasing, he’ll still hand you his favorite SPF because, deep down, he can’t stand the idea of you not taking care of yourself.

At the end of the day, Geo’s skincare obsession isn’t just about looking good—it’s about discipline, self-respect, and now, begrudgingly, making sure you’re glowing just as much as he is.

In the end, Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just a quirky habit—it’s part of what makes him who he is. It’s his way of maintaining balance, staying composed, and, let’s be honest, looking damn good while doing it.

✑ He's a Meance

Geo is a menace.

Like straight up, If you’re shorter than him? You’re an armrest now. Sorry. And don’t let the whole “stoic, too cool to care” act fool you—this man is criminally competitive. Like, sure, he looks all calm and collected, but the second you break out Uno or a board game?

It’s over. He plays to destroy, not just win. And the worst part? His trash talk is so casual yet devastating. “Huh. Interesting move,” he’ll murmur, placing his piece exactly where it ruins your entire plan. Trivia night? Good luck. This man is a walking encyclopedia and will hit you with random facts just to flex.

And yeah, he lets you win sometimes—just don’t expect him to admit it. You’ll catch him accidentally fumbling a Jenga piece or conveniently forgetting an easy trivia answer, but what if you call him out? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Straight face. No shame.

But when he loses?

Oh, it’s personal.

Beat him in a cooking challenge? Suddenly, your pancakes aren’t “fluffy enough.” Outshoot him in archery? Now he’s muttering about “beginner’s luck” like you didn’t just humble him.

Speaking of archery—yeah, he tried to teach you. At first, you sucked. Arrows were flying everywhere, and you could feel the secondhand embarrassment radiating off him. But instead of roasting you (too much), he’d sigh, adjust your stance, and mumble, “It’s not that hard.”

Then, one day? It clicked. And suddenly, you were hitting every bullseye. Geo just stared at you, then the target, then back at you. “You’ve been practicing without me.” You hadn’t, but he refuses to believe it.

Now he challenges you constantly—bullseye races, trick shots, anything to reclaim his dignity. And when you win? That subtle crease in his brow tells you everything.

But despite the wounded pride, he’s secretly proud as hell. If anyone else tries to challenge you, he’s the first to brag: “They’re best shot here.” Deadpan. Like he wasn’t just sulking five minutes ago.

Oh, and Geo’s not just competitive—he’s annoying. He lives to mess with you. Comes back from archery practice, and he's sometimes all gross and sweaty?

idk why I said this because I feel like this mf doesn't sweat or gross.

Yeah, that’s the perfect time for a surprise hug. If you try to push him off, he gets pouty—and dealing with a grumpy Geo is way worse, so you always cave. WHICH YOU HATE BECAUSE the hugs are elite just rare as hell AND HE KNOWS THAT, so it’s a win and lose for you.

And don’t even try to be romantic with his ass. Like if you send him a sweet text like. “Good morning! Please have a great day, ily <3”?

Left on fucking read. Or worse, ‘k.’ A minute later? ‘simp.’

You send back, ‘bruh, I hate you.’

He prefers video calls over texting anyway.

If he’s away at an archery match—long distance from you, he debates calling you while you’re asleep—doesn’t want to wake you, but also kinda wants to see your face.

Instead, he wakes up at stupid o’clock just to call you when you’re up, but if you ask? “Nah, just had practice.”

And you like, "Geo it's fucking 4AM over there, what."

Yeah. Sure. Keep the act up, Geo.

We all know you’re down horrendous.

✑ He's Aro/Ace

Geo’s sex drive is… complicated, the reason why becuase he's aroace, a shortened term for aromantic asexual, or individuals who experience little to no romantic or sexual attraction. Sex and Romance is not something he actively wants/needs or thinks about.

Morning wood? Yeah, it happens—he’s human. But is he waking you up to "fix" it? Absolutely fucking not. Man’s already in the cold shower, dealing with it like it's an inconvenience because, to him, that’s exactly what it is.

For Romantic stuff, though? That’s on the table.

Kissing, cuddling, slow intimate touches—I'll like to say he'll do it for you if ask and don't push about it. Like It’s never about escalation with him, just the closeness. If anything, he finds more satisfaction in making you feel loved rather than anything physical.

That said, Geo loves your body—but not in a sexual way. More in the “I like how soft and warm you are, so I’m just gonna hold you forever” kind of way. When is he in cling mode?

Oh, you’re done.

You will be trapped under his weight while he mutters something about how comfortable you are.

Anyway, not that he’ll admit any of this, of course. If you ask why he suddenly pulled you into a cuddle pile, keeping you locked against his chest with an arm draped over your waist, he’ll just shrug. “What? You’re warm.”

But you know better.

rambling start here

You could be wearing the most revealing outfit ever—something that would have most guys tripping over themselves—and Geo’s reaction? A single glance, a slow nod, and a casual, “Huh. Looks nice.” That’s it.

No gawking, no flustered stammering, no immediate change in demeanor. He acknowledges it, registers that you look good, and then goes right back to whatever he was doing, completely unfazed.

But let’s be real—just because he’s not reacting outwardly doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. Oh, he notices, and while he won’t say much, he’s definitely thinking about it. Not in a possessive or jealous way, but more in a “Tch. now I gotta keep an eye on every dude within a 10-mile radius” kind of way.

Especially if you wearing so fucking outrageous, like a bunny suit? Bro, he's in disbelief... like why would you wear such a thing???

Because at the end of the day, Geo is still protective. He might not be the type to hover or make a scene, but he doesn’t like the idea of other men staring at you like you’re something to be claimed.

And if he catches someone looking a little too long?

They’re getting the look—that sharp, unreadable stare that says, “You don’t want to make this a problem.”

rambling stop here

Geo doesn’t need sex, doesn’t crave it, and again, sure as hell isn’t driven by it. But if it’s something you want? He’ll do it for you—just no rush, no pressure, okay? He takes his time, always reading the moment and making sure you’re on the same page.

If you’re not feeling it? Cool, neither is he.

If you are? Just... give him a few days. Maybe a month.

And honestly? It hits at the most random times.

You’ll be chilling on the bed—scrolling through your phone, curled up with a book, idk, most likely maybe zoned out watching a show—and then, boom. Arms around you. No warning.

Just Geo pulling you in, his chin resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. No words, no explanation—just him pressing close like he needs you there.

It’s his way of saying, 'I want you.'

But instead of saying it, he just does it.

Now at first, you'll think this mf wants a hug or cuddle. Because if you asked him you want to try it and he's like "Okay, I'll think about it." Bro thought about it for like a damn month.

I don't blame him because he's most likely his first time.

So you perhaps forgot. And he can see that? So instead of straight up telling you, because you express to him so so so many times that his words can be such a damn mood-killing.

So, he'll turn you around, his hands lingering on your arms, slow and deliberate. His fingers brush against your skin, light as a whisper, giving you a second to realize what’s happening. His gaze meets yours—steady, searching—before flickering down to your lips.

A pause. A silent question.

Then, he leans in. No rush, no hesitation—just a slow, lingering kiss, deep enough to make your breath hitch. It’s soft at first, testing, then firmer as he presses closer, like he wants to memorize every second of it. His forehead rests against yours when he finally pulls away, breath steady, hands still holding you like he’s afraid to let go too soon.

This is how he tells you everything.

No grand speeches, no dramatic confessions—just touch, just presence. His way of saying 'You matter' without ever needing the words.

At the end of the day, Geo’s libido exists, sure—but you are what drives him, not sex. And trust me...

Please love him no matter what

✑ Flaws? There’s a few… shit perhaps like five?

Now nobody’s perfect—not even our polished, broody archer.

Geo’s got his fair share of flaws, and honestly? They add to his charm in that I-don’t-know-why-I-like-this-but-I-do kind of way.

First of all, he’s stubborn as hell.

Geo’s stubbornness could rival a brick wall and spoiler: you’re not winning an argument against him. Once his mind is made up, that’s it—game over. Whether it’s something as simple as how to fold laundry (he has a system) or something as big as life choices, he sticks to his guns like they’re glued to him.

Convincing him to budge? Good luck; you’ll need it.

Second, he doesn’t believe in second chances.

Mess up once, and that’s it—you’re done. Geo’s not the type to forgive and forget; it’s more like, “You did what? Cool, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” He’s incredibly selective about who he lets in, so if someone breaks his trust, they’re out for good.

It’s harsh, but for Geo, it’s about protecting himself.

Third, picky with a Capital P.

Geo’s the kind of person who knows exactly what he wants, and if something doesn’t meet his standards? Nope. He’s picky about everything—his appearance (always flawless), his environment (no mess, no chaos), and even the people he surrounds himself with.

If you’re lucky enough to pass his “quality control,” congrats, you’ve made it to the inner circle.

Fourth, mean asf and straight-up rude sometimes.

He's the type of partner who is mean as hell but somehow still your favorite. The relationship dynamic is less sweet and affectionate and more sarcastic, begrudging, and a little toxic but in a way that keeps you entertained.

Like he's not the type to sugarcoat anything. If your outfit looks bad? He’ll tell you. If you’re being annoying? You’ll hear about it.

But at the same time, if anyone else talks down to you? He’s shutting that down immediately—because only he gets to roast you.

If you get yourself into trouble, he’s there. Not happily, not gently—he will drag you out of danger while muttering, "Are you actually incapable of making good decisions?"

He won’t outright say he cares, but the way he pulls you behind him when things get serious? Yeah. You know.

Uhh, let's see... He doesn’t say, “I love you.” Instead, it’s:

"You’re less insufferable today."

"I’d rather deal with you than anyone else."

"If you die, I’m going to be so pissed."

You just have to translate the affection.

Like mention before he will not let you win in anything just to be nice. If you challenge him to a game, an argument, anything—he’s playing to win.

But if he sees you actually struggling? That’s when he quietly steps in to help—never admitting it, of course.

He won’t admit he worries, however you’ll catch him lingering outside your place when you’re sick or making sure you get home safe.

If you call him out on it, expect immediate denial: "I was just passing by. Don’t get weird about it."

Five, Geo’s got walls on walls.

Geo isn’t just guarded—he’s practically a damn fortress. He doesn’t trust easily, doesn’t share easily, and sure as hell doesn’t need anyone prying into his business.

If you ask too many personal questions? Expect him to shut that down with a sharp look and an even sharper comment.

He’s always watching, analyzing, and second-guessing people’s intentions like he’s running a background check in real time. AKA Daddy Issues™. He’s been taught that vulnerability is a weakness, and weakness is unacceptable.

And even if you do manage to get close? Don’t think that means you’ve cracked him completely. I have a feeling Geo selectively lets people in—just enough to keep them around, never enough to feel like they have power over him.

So, what does this all mean?

Well... I mean... this is how the relationship would play out.

He’ll share things in pieces. You won’t get a full backstory—you’ll get fragments, scattered across different conversations, months apart.

He’s the king of deflection. Ask him something too personal, and suddenly, he’s talking about your issues instead.

“Why do you care?”

“And this matters to you because…?”

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about yourself instead?”

Physical affection? Again, he'll tolerate it—on his terms. You can’t just grab his hand out of nowhere; he’ll pull away instinctively. But if he’s the one reaching for you?

That’s when you know you’ve made progress.

He might never fully open up. Even if he cares, even if he loves you, there will always be parts of him that stay locked away. Not because he doesn’t trust you—because trusting people with everything isn’t something he knows how to do.

Geo’s a tough shell to crack, and maybe that’s part of his appeal. You know the walls are high, but if you’re one of the few who gets past them? That’s when you see the rare moments of honesty, the softer side he barely even admits exist

Like I know Geo’s flaws can make him seem intimidating and hard to approach, but they’re also part of what makes him so uniquely him.

His stubbornness shows his determination, and his lack of second chances highlights how much he values loyalty and his pickiness. Well, it’s just another way he shows that he’s got high standards—whether for himself or the people around him.

Still, if you’ve made it into his inner circle, congrats—you’re probably one of the few people he truly feels safe with. And that?

That’s priceless.

Is he perfect? Nope. But would we I want him any other way? Nope.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

Alright, let’s get one thing straight: Geo has serious trust issues. Self-image as a person. And honestly? Again, Daddy Issues™.

We don’t know everything about his past, but we know enough to figure out that whatever happened left him with walls so high they make a medieval fortress look like a picket fence.

Like, this man isn’t just guarded—he’s got emotional security measures in place that could rival a high-security vault.

Moat? Check. Drawbridge? Pulled up. Guard dragons? Probably.

Nobody really knows Geo. Sure, we know the basics:

He’s filthy rich. (Like, limo-picking-him-up-from-class rich.)

He’s stupidly good at archery. (If you gave him an arrow and told him to shoot a dime out of the air, he’d probably do it just to shut you up.)

His death glare could halt traffic. (And possibly cause minor cardiac arrest.)

But beyond that? Nothing.

Like my dearest readers, I kid you not, figuring him out wasn't easy.

Trying to read Geo is like trying to solve a puzzle where half the pieces are missing, and the remaining ones are written in a language you don’t understand. Every expression, every word, every reaction—he controls them so carefully it’s impossible to tell what’s real and what’s just a calculated response.

Like the only reason I’ve pieced together information about him as much as I have? Pattern recognition.

He deflects when things get too personal.

His silence speaks volumes. When he chooses not to respond, it’s usually because the truth would reveal too much.

His actions contradict his words. Geo will act like he doesn’t care, but then he’s the first one to step in when something happens. He won’t say he’s worried, but you’ll catch him watching, listening, making sure the ones he cares about are safe.

Anyway, Geo used to be High Class—fancy, untouchable, the whole package—but then bam some kind of near-accident happened, and he got booted down to the Low-Class building.

Can you imagine the whiplash? Going from being at the top of the food chain to the bottom? That kind of thing doesn’t just bruise your ego; it leaves emotional scars.

And let’s be real, Geo doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to sit down and talk about his feelings and thoughts.

And then there’s Hyugo, Geo’s stepbrother and certified mortal enemy as Geo very much claims.

If you’ve played the game, you already know the vibes. Mention Hyugo’s name around Geo, and boom—instant disgust. Like, man doesn’t even try to hide it. His whole face scrunches up like he just smelled expired milk.

And then, he hits you with the classic, “Nope, we’re not talking about that.” No explanation, no backstory, just vibes. It’s lowkey hilarious how much he’s committed to pretending Hyugo doesn’t even exist. For me.

I feel like Hyugo has something to do with Geo’s big fall from High Class. Like, maybe Hyugo was the one who caused whatever accident messed up Geo’s status. Was it on purpose? Was it an accident? Who knows! But Geo clearly decided, “Yeah, you’re dead to me.” Now, the name “Hyugo” might as well be a four-letter word in Geo’s dictionary.

And then there’s Crowe—the only person Geo actually trusts. And you know that didn’t happen overnight. Crowe probably had to work overtime, chipping away at Geo’s defenses like he was mining for gold. It was probably like:

Crowe: “Hey, let’s be friends." Geo: Stares in suspicion for six months straight. Crowe: “Alright, cool, I’ll wait.”

If it took Crowe that long to get through, shit Idk how Deryl does it, probably doesn't give two fuck and still bothers Geo, what does that mean for literally anyone else?

Good luck, because Geo ain’t handing out trust like candy.

Now, let’s talk about you. The fucking MC. Geo doesn’t say much to you, but the way he just… stares at you? Constantly? It’s like he’s trying to solve some crime scene in his head, and you’re the number-one suspect. You’re just standing there like, “Uh, did I do something wrong? Or do I just look suspicious?”

Honestly, it’s so awkward and funny. Like, dude, either spill whatever you need to say or stop looking at me like that. But nah, Geo’s gonna stay quiet, because why use words when you can silently judge someone instead?

That’s the Geo experience in a nutshell.

Maybe he doesn’t trust you because of something to do with Crowe—like, maybe he thinks you’re toying with Crowe’s feelings ouch, judgmental much?. Or—plot twist—he’s onto something way bigger.

What if he already knows you’re being stalked by whatever creepy thing is lurking in the shadows, and he’s just keeping tabs to figure out why it’s after you?

Who knows?

But here’s the thing about Geo: he’s not super complicated to figure out in the game. He’s more of a supporting character—like that mysterious friend everyone secretly simps for but who tragically isn’t dateable. Pain.

He’s just this quiet, chill dude with sharp words, killer aim, and a ponytail that probably smells like fancy shampoo. And somehow, he’s still everyone’s type. Go figure.

So yeah, Geo’s like a locked box made of solid silver—fancy, mysterious, and absolutely refusing to open. Respect the whole “keeping it classy” vibe, but come on, man—just crack the lid a little!

I know he's not an easy person to love, but the way he does love?

It’s deep, rare, and real.

He’ll never fake kindness, but when he does let his guard down, it feels earned. He sees you as his equal—someone who doesn’t back down, who doesn’t let his reputation scare them away.

And that, I feel like that's enough. For me anyway

#the kid at the back x reader #tkatb vn #tkatb geo #geo oogami #subaru oogami #the kid at the back vn #tkatb #tkatb head canons #the kid at the back head canons #tkatb geo x reader #the kid at the back geo

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lulunothulu · 8 months ago

Text

“Oh, Sunshine”

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has been acting a dick while trying to flirt with you and it's up to you to knock him down a peg...or two.

Content: Fluff, kinda asshole Jake, teasing, FLUFF

Note: your call-sign is Sunshine. Gif is from Pinterest credits to the OG creator

“So Sunshine,” Jake drawls as he lines up to take a shot at the pool table. “When are you gonna show me that sunny demeanor everyone says got you that nickname?”

You’d been at Top Gun for about a month and Jake has yet to realize your call-sign is actually a joke because you don’t act like a ray of sunshine.

Or maybe he does and he likes being a dickhead.

You fake smile at him, lips pulled into tight lines before you lean forward and whisper into his ear as he moves to make the shot. “How about when you start acting like you deserve it.”

Jake nearly chokes, striking the ball and watching it hit nowhere near where he wanted.

Jake turns to face you, a smug smile on your face as you pull away and high five Natasha to your left.

He stands up, towering over you, hearing Rooster chuckle behind him.

"So, you want me to earn your affection," he drawls. "That must mean you're thinking about it."

You roll your eyes, smiling a tight lipped smile.

"Bradshaw," you say, still making eye contact with Jake. "Buy me another drink?"

Bradley smiles, taking a last swig of his drink. "I've got you, Sunshine."

He places his large hands on your waist to pass by you and you smile up at him, feeling Jake's eyes on you.

You had to admit, seeing Jake Seresin with that jealous look in his eye made your heart do a little flip. You'd had a secret thing for him from the first time he flashed you that shit-eating smile and boy did you fall hard.

Behind you, Natasha chuckles. "Bagman, you look like you've seen the worse thing in your life."

Your eyes flick to Jake's and you almost choke on your spit. His eyes were ravenous on you, practically burning into you.

You only smile, turning your head before calling after Bradley. "Bradley! I'll just go with you."

You make your way toward him, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulders and leaning into him.

You glance over your shoulder to see Jake fuming.

———

Jake watched as you walked off with Bradshaw, his arm around your shoulders and your head leaning into him. To his left, he knows Javy is saying something but his eyes are glued to you.

You're not in your khaki uniform, instead you changed into some jean shorts and a tank top that accentuates your curves, hair loose and down your shoulders. Bradshaw's wearing his signature Hawaiian shirt and Jake couldn't help but think that you two were matching.

"Bagman!" Jake hears Natasha say. "It's your turn."

He looks down at the pool table before giving his cue stick to Bob.

"Merry Christmas, Baby On Board," he smiles. "You get to take my spot."

Before Bob can stutter a response, Jake's making his way to you and Bradshaw at the bar.

Your hand is on Bradley's chest and you have a sweet smile plastered on your lips.

Jake wished you'd smile up at him like that.

Finally by your side, Jake smiles down at you before lazily placing his arm around your waist.

"Wow, Sunshine," he starts, trying his hardest not to snatch your hand from Bradshaw's chest. "I knew you could smile."

He watches as you turn toward him, sweet smile dropping before crossing the short distance into Bradley's arms. You wrap Bradley's arms around you and Jake has to fight to keep from combusting in jealousy.

"Yeah," you start, a fake smile forming on your sweet lips. "I only smile for guys I like."

"And that would be Bradshaw here?" Jake asks, pointedly looking at Bradley who just shrugs and smiles into your hair.

Jake's blood was boiling.

That should be him smiling into your hair. Those should be his arms around you.

"Maybe it is," you tell him.

Jake had his heart broken only one other time in his life, this would make it a second time and he honestly didn't know if he might cry or not.

He didn't know why these tears threatened to appear now—

No. that was a lie. He knew why.

Jake was an idiot in love, and he loved every second of it. Maybe not this second with Bradshaw's arms around you, but for the most part, he loved it.

"Hey, are you okay?" you ask, eyes growing concerned.

Oh fuck.

Jake's eyes were watering. Not watering, tearing up.

———

You were enjoying Bradley's arms around you, mainly because you knew it would drive Jake crazy but also because it felt nice to have a man’s arms around you.

You just wished it was Jake’s.

Bradley had come up with the plan. "We'll get him so jealous, he'll have to tell you up front that he has feelings for you." He had said.

Only, now that the plan was started, you were beginning to feel bad. Especially when you saw, Jake's eyes were...tearing up?

"Hey, are you okay?" you asked, shaking Bradley's arms off of you and stepping toward Jake.

"I'm great," Jake chokes, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes. "My eyes were…dry. Um, I think I just need to take a walk."

You flash Bradley a look, watching him nod and smile before walking back toward the rest of the Daggers.

“Jake?” You softly say, placing a hand on Hangman’s arm.

You never call him Jake and if you do, it’s to yell at him. He knows that and you know that. So when his head snaps up to face you, you knew you had to make it count.

“Let’s go for a walk then,” you coax, taking his hand in yours. “You know, for your eyes?”

Jake’s eyes soften and he nods, swallowing before following you out to the beach.

A warm breeze welcomes you, sending your loose hair flying behind you. You could feel Jake’s eyes on you so you turn to face him.

Only, his eyes are trained on where both of your hands connect. As you move to pull away, his grip tightens.

“Just let me enjoy this, please?” He says quietly.

“Okay,” you tell him just as quietly, looking out at the beach.

The sun has already set, nothing but the sounds of crashing waves and an occasional rumble from inside the bar.

It’s the longest you’ve been next to Jake without him breaking the silence. It was kind of…relaxing. Comforting even.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You ask, breaking the silence.

Jake smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Not really, but I’m starting to feel better.”

“So, what happened in there,” you start, “wasn’t allergies?”

Jake turns to face you, sage green eyes soft and sweet on yours. He moves to face you with his whole body, his other hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “No, not one bit.”

“What was it then?”

Your heart was pounding, he’d never touched you like this. Hell, Jake has never touched you more than when your hands accidentally touched when he hands you a beer. The look on his face is sending you all sorts of mixed signals and you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.

“Can I be real with you for a second?” He asks instead, thumb lingering by your jawline.

“Go ahead.”

———

Jake searches your face, trying to figure out what he can say that won’t scare you away.

How do I tell her?

His hand was still holding your jaw, gently caressing the smooth skin. His eyes fall on yours, confusion and wonder fill them as his gaze falls to your lips.

How many times had he imagined what they’d feel like against his own? What they’d taste like? Would they be soft? Of course they would, look at them.

“Jake?” You say, voice sweet and bringing him out of his spiral.

“Y/N,” he starts, watching as your face fills with confusion.

He never calls you by your first name—only if it’s important.

“I have to tell you something.”

He watches you nod, concern now masking your features.

Jake takes a deep breath before finally spilling. “I have feelings for you.”

When your eyes widen, he continues, “I just didn’t want to tell you and then embarrass myself and seeing you with Bradshaw…absolutely sent me over the edge. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I’ve come to terms with you hating me or thinking I was an dick—”

You stop him by pressing your soft fingers to his lips, a small blush creeping up your face.

Wait…you’re blushing.

“Jake,” you say, voice sweet and even. “I have feelings for you too. And not the kind that make me think you’re a dickhead.”

“Really?” He asks, eyes lighting up in surprise.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were acting like an asshole because you hated me,” you start, “or if you were true to the ‘boys tease you when they like you’ bit people tell little girls.”

“I most definitely did it because I wanted your attention and I wanted you to like me,” he admits. “Forgive me?”

You only smile up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck before pressing your lips to his cheek. When you pull away to see Jake’s eyes wide in surprise and relief, you laugh.

“What?” You ask.

“Oh, Sunshine,” he sighs. “You really can be a ray of sunshine.”

“Don’t ruin this nice moment, Bagman.”

If you liked this, check out my Masterlist!!!

#glen powell #fanfic #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #glen powell x reader #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x rooster

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eternalbuckley · 8 days ago

Text

Just a favour. — mattheo riddle

SUMMARY: You ask your best friend for a favour and end up sitting on his face while he eats you out.

word count: 2,550

genre: smut | fem/afab!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings/tropes: 18+ mdni, face sitting/riding, oral (f receiving), lots of teasing, hair pulling (m receiving), slight praise kink?, best friend trope, english is not my first language — if I forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: i'm still trying to get more comfortable and confident in writing smut but i hope you enjoy <3 i wrote this while watching live performances of the arctic monkeys, so perhaps some of their vibes are a part of this fic now — reblogs, feedback and comments are highly appreciated and welcomed! ♡

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. i don’t give you my permission to use my writing for any ai related things, don’t do it. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know!

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It was more than a simple question you asked your best friend – it was a favour you asked him for that would change your friendship forever. It would change how you would see and act with each other. There was the risk that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourselves from doing the same or similar other things with each other. You wanted to try face riding – a very intimate sexual act, in your opinion.

It was something you wanted to try out for the longest time, but you never felt comfortable enough with your previous sexual partners to actually try it out. So, you simply asked Mattheo if he would be open to trying it, and he was. Because that’s what best friends do, right?

Eventually, he gave you some time to think about it and ensure you really wanted to take this step together. A day later, you and Mattheo were on your bed, kissing each other in the dim light of cosy lights and candles. You made sure to make your place even more comfortable than it already was.

You moved your hands under his shirt and traced the skin of his chest with your fingertips before pulling the shirt over his head and exposing his bare torso to your eyes. For a brief moment, you took your time to look at his chest more closely. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him shirtless, but it was the first time in such a situation, and it excited you. You leaned forward and pressed lingering kisses along his jawline and collarbones, which made him want more of you.

Meanwhile, he moved his hands along your arms before moving them to the straps of your top. His touch as he slowly loosened the straps gave you goosebumps. You then pulled away from kissing his skin and let him take off your top, and were left wearing your lace bra. You could feel the slightly cold air on your exposed skin, which was a strong contrast to the increasing heat of your body and the atmosphere in your room.

Your skin heated up even more when you noticed his lustful gaze and dilated pupils as he took in every detail of you. You bit down on your lower lip as your gaze wandered to his half-grown bulge in his jeans, seeing him like this made you even more confident than you already were. With one last glance at the growing bulge in his pants, you moved your hands to his belt and unbuckled it. He got up from the bed and tossed his pants to the rest of the clothes that were already spread over the floor. Your gaze followed his movements with bated breath as you rubbed your thighs together to release some of the heat that was building up in your core. But it didn’t really help you, it only fuelled Mattheo’s ego and made you more desperate for a release and his touch.

A shit eating grin appeared on Mattheo’s lips as he noticed what you were doing – he was completely enjoying watching you like that. “Patience, princess,” he murmured lowly and leaned down to you to place a kiss on your cheek before he decided to sit down behind you. You playfully rolled your eyes at his remark but let him continue exploring your body.

You could feel his fingertips tracing the curves of your body, which made you sigh slightly. Mattheo moved his fingers from your hands over your arms to your shoulders and over the back of your shoulders. Every now and then, he pressed gentle kisses on your shoulders or neck as well. The feeling of his lips combined with his sensual touch made you shiver and lean against him even more. Your breath hitched slightly when you eventually felt his chest pressed against your back while he gave you a small hickey on your neck. For a moment, you closed your eyes and laid your head on his right shoulder while you enjoyed being so close to him. It was a very intimate moment for both of you, which showed the deep trust you had for each other. It was completely different from what you were used to – it was amazing.

Mattheo moved his hands to your chest and the curves of your breasts. He didn’t quite touch them yet and continued to trace them over your waist and down to your hips. Although you loved that he took his time with you, you became impatient. But then he tapped your hips lightly, a silent signal for you to lift them so he could take off your skirt. You took his signal and lifted your hips just enough for him to pull off your skirt, leaving you completely in your underwear. Meanwhile, he intensified his kisses on your neck, which increased the desire and wetness between your legs to intensify as well. You weren’t sure if you could continue like this any longer, you needed him.

“You’re so beautiful, princess,” he whispered into your ear and pressed a tender kiss behind it.

You turned your head to look up at him and parted your lips. “Matty, please just… Hurry up,” you panted softly and raised your hand to run your fingers through his curls and pull him down to kiss him.

Mattheo chuckled teasingly after slightly pulling away from you and became serious for a brief moment. “Are you sure you want to go further?” He whispered against your lips and then hummed as you nodded quickly. “Yes, I want to. Do you?” You asked him as well, to which he nodded in response as well.

Then, you slowly pulled away from each other, the air growing thicker between you as you shifted your positions. Mattheo has laid down on your bed while you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down just slightly and giving him a tantalising glimpse of your core. With a slow movement, you pushed them down until they fell to the floor and revealed your glistening heat. You could see Mattheo’s eyes roaming over your body, taking in every detail and trying to memorise everything. He needed you as much as you needed him.

With your foot, you kicked your panties onto the pile of clothes on the floor and climbed back onto your bed. The silky bedsheets felt cool and smooth on your skin as you took your time to crawl over to him. The contrast of your heated skin and the coolness of the sheets sent a gentle shiver through you. You paused for a moment and thought about what you two were about to do and if it was really a good idea or not. But you quickly decided to go forward. The nearer you got, the clearer the longing in his eyes became – his desire was written on his face. Mattheo’s eyes locked onto yours as he stuck out his tongue to lick his lips – like he was already savouring you. The way he looked at you made you feel powerful.

“Don’t hold yourself back. Okay, pretty girl? I want everything of you,” he said reassuringly, making sure you’d never wonder if you were too much for him. Because you never could be.

You nodded before you slowly positioned yourself above his face and straddled his head with your thighs. You tightly grabbed the headboard of your bed as you hovered above his face – teasingly close but not giving in yet.

A soft pant escaped your lips as you felt the heat of his breath against your glistening heat. You looked into his eyes when you looked down to him and had to bite down on your lower lip to prevent yourself from moaning already. That sight of him? Under you? His eyes filled with such a lust and hunger, only for you?

You became even wetter.

“Look at that,” Mattheo hummed teasingly and brushed his lips against the skin of your thighs and bit into it. His voice was low and strained as he took in the sight of your glistening core, “Such a pretty pussy. And all for me? I’m the luckiest guy to exist.” He moved his hands to your hips and grabbed them to support you.

With a gentle tug from him on your hips, you let yourself sink onto his face without further hesitation. The final contact made you gasp and tighten your grip on the headboard. He moaned slightly, which also made you moan due to the vibrations coming from his mouth.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath and moved one hand to his head to tangle your fingers in his curly hair. He dragged his tongue along your slit, savouring how you tasted – his cock throbbed with a growing need.

You held him tightly against you as he continued to pleasure you with his mouth. When his tongue found your clit, you threw your head back with a gasp. “Oh god,” you moaned softly and started to grind down against his face, coating his chin and lips with your wetness combined with his saliva.

Every time the tip of his nose brushed your clit, you moaned louder and pulled harder on his hair, which made him moan even louder into your core.

You were desperate for more.

“You taste so good, princess. I could spend hours between your legs,” he murmured against your pussy which brought a quiet, surprised whimper from your lips. You didn’t expect him to say something like that, but it was Mattheo after all. Nothing should surprise you anymore.

“Don’t stop.” Your voice was breathless with growing lust as you panted softly. With that, Mattheo swirled his tongue around your clit and tightened his grip on your hips before he explored your naked skin with his hands again.

You felt his hands moving over your thighs to your hips and then to your waist before he reached up to your bra and opened it with a quick movement. You paused grinding yourself against his face for a brief moment to take off your bra and toss it away. He cupped your breasts and squeezed them once they were free, making you moan and grind yourself on his face again. You moved your hands back to where they were before, one hand tangled in his hair and the other steadying yourself against the headboard.

You looked down at Mattheo, your face slightly heated up again as you noticed the lustful look in his eyes. You tangled your fingers tighter in his hair and pulled at it as a breathy moan escaped your lips. Your inner walls fluttered around his tongue as soon as he entered your pussy with it. The vibrations of Mattheo’s approving moans against your pussy only intensified the pleasure you were feeling in that moment. You could feel your climax approaching quickly. Mattheo gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided you to grind against his face.

‘Fuck, the way she’s riding my face... like she was born to do it,’ he thought to himself as he continued to pleasure you with his mouth and watch you above him.

He needed that picture engraved into his mind forever. He could feel your body tense as you desperately moved your hips with desperation. Every gasp and moan that left your lips was music to his ears. And he for sure knew that this evening wouldn’t be the last time he would hear them.

Mattheo eventually redoubled his efforts to make you come on his tongue and flicked it rapidly over your clit – pushing you closer to your orgasm. “Come on, princess,” he moans against your pussy and tightened his grip on your hips, making you gasp again, “Come all over my face.”

After a few more strokes of his tongue, you finally came all over his face and covered it with your release. “Fuck!” You desperately cried out, your back arched as your orgasm hit you. Your chest heaved quickly as your body slightly shook from the intense feeling.

The grip of both of your hands tightened while you rode out your orgasm and slightly increased the movements of your hips. The obscene mixed sounds of your shared moans and his mouth working wonders on your pussy filled the air of the room.

Mattheo’s voice was muffled as he praised you, “Such a good girl for me.” He eagerly lapped up your release and moaned in pleasure – the vibrations jolting through your pussy and made you whimper even more. You would have done this with him much sooner if you’d only known how good it would feel, being with him like this.

Mattheo could feel his painful, hard cock throbbing against his underwear – it already leaked with precum as he was desperate for a release. The sight of you coming undone above him, the way your skin glistened with the sweat of your pleasure and the dishevelled look of you only fuelled his need for it. His need for you. He knew he needed you. He needed to feel your walls clenching around his cock while having sex with you in the way you deserve. He needed to hear more of your sweet sounds as he gives you more pleasure.

All he needed was you.

But in that exact moment, he just wanted to focus on your pleasure instead of his own. He focused on prolonging your orgasm as much as possible while his touch remained gentle as he continued to roam his hands over your body and squeeze different parts here and there. Meanwhile, he lapped up every drop of your wetness to clean your pussy up. Soft whimpers left your lips as you slowly came down from your climax and continued to feel his tongue on your sensitive clit.

When Mattheo felt your body slump from the intense feeling, he carefully moved you to lay down comfortably in his arms. He wrapped them around you as you rested your head on his chest – the steady rhythm of his heartbeat slowly calmed down your breathing. The silence between you mixed with the sound of his heartbeat was comforting in some way. Meanwhile, Mattheo closed his eyes and traced the skin of your exposed back with his fingertips – savouring the peaceful intimacy between you.

“Thank you,” you whispered with a soft smile after a few minutes and placed your chin on his chest to admire his face more. A smirk formed on his lips before he opened his eyes again to meet your gaze. His voice was low as he replied, “Any time again, princess.”

A few seconds passed before Mattheo added, “I wish I had known earlier how incredible you’d look on top of me.” He murmured teasingly and received a playful swat on the chest from you. “What? I’m just telling the truth!”

You rolled your eyes but giggled quietly. He then kissed the top of your head and chuckled happily with you. Mattheo understood you too well – every teasing comment from him was perfectly timed to draw a response you couldn’t hide.

You were both sure that there would definitely be another time you’d be doing this again, if not more than one and many other intimate things.

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