#I love all you and your muses; gimme

[fastfists]

Just putting this here for anyone new to this blog, I try not to ignore partners or such...but sometimes my brain latches on to specific things it wants to answer or such, that and I can be a bit slow to respond to things. This doesn't mean however I do not wish to write with you...I just am like a snail in molasses caught in a tar pit type slow. You are always and I mean always welcome to send in asks or respond to open post or even just tag me in shit. I love that. I wanna write with you all so much. Love you guys ;3

[omgeto]

☆ GIMME, GIMME MORE — GETO SUGURU

summary: you were just a stripper who had no desire to fuck with any customers, but there was just one you couldn’t shake. once he laid his eyes on you, he wanted you. and with every little piece of you he got — he wanted more.

wc: 6.5k (my longest fic ever, lord help me) its a lot of plot with a nice chunk of smut

cw: afab!stripper!reader, angst to fluff, smutty smut, you fuck in his car, you fuck in a private room (i remembered condoms this time) so mdni sassy geto, if you squint.

an: listen to this song to feel the vibe, I love me some geto and I’ve yet to do a fic for him so I hope you enjoy this one.

the entrance to the high-end club exudes an air of opulence, with its glimmering lights and sophisticated clientele. geto suguru strolls in alongside his best friend, gojo satoru, the low hum of the music washing over them. the glances around, a mixture of boredom and detachment etched on his face. this isn't really his scene, but gojo had insisted on a night out.

as they find their way to a table, surrounded by plush seating and an atmosphere of indulgence, geto's attention wanders. the dancers on stage move with practised sensuality, but his gaze remains distant. until, that is, a change in the music's tempo signals a shift in the performance.

the spotlight illuminates the stage, revealing a figure that seems to command the room's attention effortlessly. you move with a fluid grace, your body swaying in time with the sultry rhythm. the way your hips move, the confidence in your eyes, it's as if you own the room. gojo's earlier detachment gives way to fascination he can't deny.

he couldn’t take his eyes off the way you were sliding down the pole, leaning forward in his seat to see more of you. the star shaped nipple covers and the gem encrusted thong you were wearing left nothing to the imagination. but still he couldn’t help but picture it all off of you, leaning forward in his seat to try and get a closer look. 

gojo nudges him playfully. "not bad, right?"

geto’s response is a low, appreciative whistle as his eyes remain locked on the captivating dancer. his heart races as he watches you command the stage, a magnetic presence that draws him in despite his earlier disinterest. he couldn’t help but feel that you were dancing for him, call him cocky but the way your eyes were locked on him as you threw your ass back against the pole — he knew that was just for him. he looked around the room and saw that everyone else was just as captivated by you as he was.

“she’s the best performer here, she doesn’t do private dances, she doesn’t even do a long set,” gojo brags to geto but he’s barely listening, his eyes too focused on you, “this is as much of her as we can get.” 

as the performance reaches its climax, geto’s lips curve into a slow smile. gojo’s grin is knowing. "looks like someone's found their muse." geto’s tears his gaze away just as you exit the stage, his interest piqued.

“you’ve got a request,” your boss announces insistent and smug, cornering you immediately after you exit the stage.

“you know i don't do requests, i come here, i do a 30 minute set and i leave remember?” you retort, stepping to walk straight past him, but he stops you, standing in front of you to block your path.

“this is a request you can’t refuse,” he adds, a smirk forming on his lips. your eyes narrow at his words, already feeling a sense of unease.

“oh i think i can,” your intention is clear as you step forward, intending to brush past him and continue on your way. but he remains unmoved, determined to stand in your path, his stance a physical barrier you can't easily circumvent.

“there’s a special guest tonight, someone who’s willing to pay handsomely for a private performance,” he explains, his tone implying much more than his words reveal.

you pause, folding your arms, sceptical. “how much are we talking about?”

he names a figure that makes your eyebrows shoot up. It’s a significant sum, the kind that could cover your bills for months, or even help you save for a future beyond the club. but still, you hesitate.

“like i said, i don't take request,” you conclude, brushing past your boss.

“i don’t think this particular patron will like that,” he tries to argue, following directly behind you.

“ask me if i care,” with those words, you step forward once more, your purpose clear as you attempt to carry on. but his presence remains a persistent shadow at your side, his attempts to sway you far from over. 

his argument falters momentarily, but he regains his composure quickly, his tone becoming insistent. "this particular patron isn't accustomed to denial. I don't think he'll take kindly to it."

a defiant smirk tugs at your lips, your patience waning as you find yourself driven further by your own principles. "well, here's a thought—perhaps he should learn."

with that final retort, you pivot on your heel, striding purposefully toward the locker room. the temptation of the significant sum and the vague promise of this special patron tug at the edges of your thoughts, but your determination remains resolute.

“if you don’t do it your fired.” he calls out after you, a desperate final attempt to get you to agree.

you knew you were going against your better judgement, but you turn back to face your boss and with a deep sigh you agree, “fine, i’ll do it. but you owe me.”

with simmering frustration bubbling beneath the surface, you push open the door to the private room, your entrance punctuated by the subtle swish of the heavy fabric. the air within was charged, a blend of anticipation and tension, as you found geto suguru lounging on the plush sofa, his presence an unwelcome sight that intensified your irritation.

your words come out abruptly, a firm reminder to both him and yourself, “i don’t fuck clients,” you state, a touch of defensiveness in your tone. you wanted to establish your boundaries, to make it clear you wouldn’t be swayed easily.

he chuckles, catching you off guard, his amusement evident. “thats nice…” he adds, with a hint of playfulness, “i just wanted to talk anyways.”

“to talk?” you question, surprised at his request, as you knew what went on in the private rooms and talking was far from that.

“yeah, just wanna get to know you,” he explains casually, his eyes studying you.

“i don’t do time wasters,” you complain, ready to leave the room, “and i don’t have time to waste.”

“even if im paying for your time?” he bargains, raising his eyebrows, “im sure your boss told you the pretty expensive bill im footing just for your time.”

crossing your arms, you met his gaze with a steady one of your own. “look, mr…?”

“just call me suguru,” he interjected with a smile that held a hint of charm.

“alright, suguru,” you continued, your tone resolute, “i'm not here to entertain idle chit-chat. i’ll dance for you for an hour and thats it. just abide by the club rules, otherwise im out.”

“why don’t you take private requests?” he inquiries, disregarding your comments.

“because i don’t have to,” you respond nonchalantly, “why are you so persistent that you pay for my time. there’s tons of other great strippers in this club.”

“because i want you.” he shrugs.

“well too bad,” you mock, “just because you have money doesn’t mean you can buy everything.”

“everyone’s got a price,” he argues, chuckling softly, a condescending tone underling his words, “ah, but isn't that the way the world works? everything has a price, even principles.”

the audacity of his statement ignited a fire within you, your voice heated with defiance and scorn. “you think im for sale? you think i’d compromise my integrity just for a fat stack of bills? you’re delusional.”

“oh but isn’t your integrity already compromised,” he teases, raising his eyebrows, “is miss, ‘i dont do private dances,’ not in a private dance with me right now?”

“you know wha–” 

“i changed my mind. i don’t want to talk anymore,” there was a shift in his tone, amusement danced in his eyes, “strip for me.”

you were pissed. but you couldn’t actually argue – he was right. he was paying for your time and he could spend it anyway he wanted to. you’d rather have him silently watching you anyways than talking to you. 

the music blared through the speakers in the room, and you immediately straddled geto, you could feel his dick harden underneath you. the only thing separating you two was the thin layer of fabric of your thong. 

you could see him smirk at you, but you ignored him, grinding your hips down on him to the beat of the music. his starts to trail down your sides, but you give him a pointed look reminding him of the rules – no touching. he surrenders his hands placing them besides his head, content in watching you dance on his lap.

you moved off of him, using the pole that was in the room, his eyes stayed fixed on you. you wanted to put on a show for him, so you move your body expressing a mix of sensuality and power, your eyes lock onto his, daring him to challenge you further, to push your boundaries even more.

the hour was eventually up, and geto didn’t say anything as he left, he just leaves a fat stack of bills on the table, and for some reason you couldn’t bite your tongue, “is that it? you’re just going to leave?”

“well the hours up, no?” he responds, checking his watch, “and, i’ve paid you for your time.” you couldn’t argue with that, so you remain silent watching as he turns his back on you to leave the room.

“suguru,” you call out, getting him to pause, “wait.”

“i thought you didn’t fuck clients,” he smirks, coming up from in between your thighs, “but i am not complaining”

“s-shut up,” you exhale, you’d like to believe that you didn’t expect this to happen, but you knew that was a lie. you didn’t get far out of the club, in fact you didn’t make it out of the parking lot. the back of geto’s car seemed to be perfect with the way he was eating you out. 

the feeling of geto sucking on your clit, had your head empty. his head being pressed between your thighs makes your back arch as you push up against his face. he laps against your folds, drowning in your wetness. 

“‘i don’t do private dances,’” he mocks your previous words, amused with himself, “oh if only you could see yourself now.” he enjoyed you like this, pinned under him, your pussy dripping all over his face, you were a writhing mess; no longer complaining to him about his actions, you were reduced down to moans and incoherent sentences, the only thing he could hear clearly was his name.

“suguru ah s-shit,” you curse, as he presses down on your clit, “do you always talk this much?” you tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding his face closer in your pussy, his nose deep in your arousal. he was practically inhaling you, swirling his tongue deep inside, trying to taste every inch of you.

“‘m close suguru,” you whine, thrust up against his face aiming to reach your peak on your own.

“calm down princess,” he teases, pulling his lips away from your pussy, “didn’t know you were this eager.” he presses his lips down on yours, making you taste yourself as his hand goes behind your neck to hold you in place. “see how sweet you can be?” 

he takes his dick out of his pants, quickly putting on a condom, not even giving you much time to think before he’s slamming into your cunt. your eyes widen as your pussy stretches, and geto can only bite his lip as he feels you clench around him.

“you feel so good, y’know that right” he murmurs, forcing himself into you deeper, “so fuckin’ tight.” 

he was merciless, gripping his hands on your tits, as he pistons out of you. he could only focus on how your cunt tightens around him with every push. you were pushing yourself down on him, fucking him right back. you didn’t care for his praise, you just wanted to cum.

“‘you’re t-too much, i-it’s too much”

“but you’re taking me so well,” he argues, with a grin. peppering kissing against your neck as he fucks you to a hilt. your hands find their way back into his hair, pulling and tugging at it as you moan out his name. 

his dick twitches inside you as you call at his name, you could feel that he was about to cum. his strokes were getting sloppier, and his mouth went from biting to sucking on your neck. you could feel yourself about to climax, clawing at his back, as he continues to hit your spot.

“suguru, i’m about to–”

“cum with me,” he demands, swiftly pulling out of and leaving his cum all over your stomach. you release onto his car seats, your cum spilling out of your pussy, pooling into his car seats.

after coming down off your high, you come to your senses. “this doesn’t change anything.” you remove yourself out of his hold, pushing him off you.

“you really gonna say that after i gave you the best time of your life?” 

"'best time of my life?'" you echo, a smirk tugging at your lips as you gather your belongings, "someone's cocky."

“i'm starting to feel you like me that way,” he teases, his words a playful challenge.

you roll your eyes, not willing to engage in his banter any longer. "goodbye, suguru," you reply, opening his car door. "don't return to the club."

“oi princess,” he calls after you, “you left your thong.”

“keep it.” you wink as you step outside of the car, “think of it as a souvenir.”

“why would i need that, when im going to see you again?” you don't respond, shutting the car door with a smile on your face as part of you hoped that he did return.

geto did see you again, practically every day after that. it became a consistent routine, he’d book a private room for a couple hours, you’d fuck, you’d talk and see each other whenever he wanted. he came when he needed you – and he always needed you.

as a stripper, you’ve always had one rule ‘don’t fuck with clients,’ but the moment that geto suguru laid his eyes on you – you were his. there was something about him that made him different from all the other patrons, although they were all snobby rich guys, the way that geto carried himself made you feel like he was worth breaking your rule. or at least that's what you told yourself. 

you didn’t just fuck each other – sometimes he just wanted to talk to you, to ask you about your day, to get to know you. and you could tell he was starting to catch feelings that you weren’t prepared to deal with. however, despite him being rich, there was something endearing in knowing that he went out of his way, every day, to pay just to see you. even when you were mean and standoffish.

you always spoke for longer than you expected – longer than he even paid for. geto surprised you, he was actually interested in talking with you. as the minutes turned into an hour, the conversations flowed in unexpected directions. you found yourselves sharing stories, discussing interests, and laughing at each other’s jokes. geto’s charming demeanour and genuine interest gradually chipped away at your initial reservations.

“did you always want to be a stripper?” he asks, you had just finished fucking and he still had an hour left of paid time with you, and he was going to use it.

“do you always pillowtalk?” you retort smartly, evading his question.

“who would’ve thought you’d still be this bitchy after being fucked so good,” he jokes, pulling you into his hold that you quickly ease into, “girl just answer the question.”

“i don’t know,” you sigh, “i needed the money, i loved to dance, so being a stripper was a no brainer to me.”

“do you like working here?” 

you shift slightly in his embrace, your fingers idly trace patterns on his chest. "liking it? well, it pays the bills, if that's what you're asking."

his fingers brush against your hair in a soothing gesture. "but is that all? just a means to an end?"

you sigh, a mixture of vulnerability and honesty in your tone. "i mean, it's not like i dreamt of becoming a stripper when I was a kid. but it's a job that's allowed me some financial stability, even if it's temporary."

geto's voice was gentle, his curiosity evident. "temporary for how long?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal. "i don’t know, i haven’t thought that far. i just wanna make money.”

"well, if you ever get tired of dancing, i can always buy the club for you." his response was unexpected, a mixture of humour and absurdity. “i think you’d make a good boss.”

“ha, if you did that i’d know that you’re truly obsessed with me,” you chuckle, his words catching you off guard. “i know you enjoy this place, but that's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"maybe, but you're worth it." he grins, his playful demeanour unwavering. "you're more than what you do here, you know."

a soft, ironic chuckle escapes your lips. "funny, coming from someone who's always here."

his grip on you tightens slightly, his voice holding a trace of seriousness. "perhaps I come here because I want to be around you. not just the dancer."

it was as if his presence had chipped away at the walls you had erected, leaving you exposed to a whirlwind of feelings you hadn't anticipated.his gaze, unwavering and intense, held yours as if searching for a sign—a spark of recognition that you too were experiencing this undeniable pull.

"suguru," you begin, your voice a whisper that barely bridged the distance between you, "this... whatever it is between us, it can't be as simple as you wanting to be around me."

he smiles softly, a gentle curve of his lips that holds both understanding and patience. "you're right, it's not simple. but isn't that what makes it worth exploring?" his words were a delicate melody, an invitation to step beyond the boundaries you had created.

you met his gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and longing. the weight of his presence was undeniable, a force that had drawn you in and left you yearning for more. but your insecurities whispered caution, reminding you of the differences that set you apart.

"suguru," you admit, your voice softer now, "i've never let anyone get this close. it's complicated, and I don't even know where this could lead."

“it doesn’t matter where it will leads,” he says, “what matters is that you like me? right?”

his words hung in the air, a direct question that pierced through the layers of uncertainty and vulnerability that surrounded you. the room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of his question settling like a delicate veil over the intimate space you shared.

your breath caught, and for a moment, time itself seemed to pause. the truth, the raw honesty that had eluded you, stood before you—bold and unyielding. you looked into his eyes, his gaze unwavering and patient, as if he was giving you the space to find your own truth within the question.

your voice, soft and tinged with a mixture of trepidation and longing, finally found its way to the surface. "i..." you pause, the words catching in your throat. but in the depth of his gaze, you found a strange sense of comfort, an assurance that you could be honest without judgement.

"maybe," you admit, your voice a whisper that carries the weight of your emotions. "maybe i do like you, suguru." the admission felt like a release, letting go of the barriers you had constructed to protect yourself.

a slow smile curved his lips, a genuine expression that lit up his features. it was as if your honesty had unlocked a door, allowing both of you to step closer to a truth that had been waiting to surface. he replies with deep content, "maybe is a good start," 

the room felt charged with an energy you couldn't quite define, a tension that simmered beneath the surface. your eyes held his, a silent conversation that spoke volumes—an acknowledgement of the unspoken connection that had grown between you.

as you lay there, cocooned in the aftermath of both physical intimacy and heartfelt conversation, an internal struggle brewed within you. your heart was stirred by the sincerity of geto's words, by the connection that seemed to grow stronger with every interaction. yet, amidst the warmth and comfort, a sense of bittersweet uncertainty gnawed at you.

the boundary you had set, the rule you had vowed to uphold, wavered under the weight of emotions you hadn't anticipated. you were drawn to geto, but a tangle of reservations held you back.

in the embrace of the night, you found yourself torn between the allure of a connection you had come to cherish and the lingering fear of what being with him might entail. 

“you’re here early,” you comment, seeing geto in his usual seat. at this point, you were practically excited to see him, happy to go to work knowing that he’d show up.

“i guess i thought i’d change things up a bit,” he mutters his tone of voice off, “we’ve got to make this quick, though” he starts to undo his belt, “i’ve only got an hour till my next meeting.”

“wow no talking today?” you ask amused. geto usually is the one that likes to take his time, he always says he prefers to stimulate your mind before anything else, but today was different.

he gives you a pointed look, not bothering to respond so you continue to say, “an hour?” smirking as you straddle his lap, freeing his dick, “i think that’s more than enough time.” 

“new outfit?” he muses, pulling at the straps of the lingerie you were wearing. you nod, focusing on stroking his dick, “red’s your colour, i like it. but i’d rather see it off you.” suddenly, he rips off your bra and forces you up to take off your panties. you bend down to take off your heels, but he pauses you, “keep those on.”                 

“get my fingers wet for me,” he commands, dragging you back onto his lap. you happily comply, taking in two fingers into your warm, pouty mouth. he caresses your jaw as you greedily nibble on his fingers. 

he pulls them out thoroughly coated with your saliva and shoves them into your pussy. you gasp at the contact, and crumble into his side but he forces your head up with his hand pressing a rough kiss to your lips. 

“w-whats with you today?” you query, as you see the look on geto’s face – something was off with him. although you couldn’t deny the pleasure you were getting from his current roughness, you were used to a gentler geto.

“nothing,” he dismisses you, slipping in another finger into your soaking pussy. his thumb rubs against your clit as his fingers easily glide in and out of you. you felt like you cum off of his fingers alone, you grind down hard against his fingers aiding yourself in reaching your climax. but just as you were nearing, he swiftly removes his fingers landing a fat smack against your clit, “i know i said i had to make it quick, but i didn’t think you’d be this excited.”

geto swiftly puts on a condom, raises you up slightly before slamming you down on his dick. he smiles as your legs wrap around his back, pleased by the sound of your heels clacking together. you shudder as he immediately fills you, your pussy stretching, taking all of him. 

he thrusts into you hard, and you try to meet his pace and fuck him back as hard as he was doing to you – but you were no match for him. you were practically a ragdoll as he hammered into you, your arms flinging around his neck to hold yourself up.

“f-fuck,” you moan, clawing at his back, “im gonna cum.”

“hold it,” he demands, continuing to give you strong, relentless strokes. your head falls into his shoulder in submission, you were already gushing all over him, but he keeps going, hard and fast. he lifts up your head, and presses a soft peck against your lips before saying, “cum.”

geto movements turn sloppy as he finishes into the condom. you release all over his dick, shuddering as you feel your peak surge through you. he presses one more kiss to your neck, before you move off of him. 

“are you good?” you finally ask him, as you put back on your outfit, “you seemed a little out of it tonight.”

he shifts on his feet, his restlessness palpable as he watches you. "yeah," he mumbles, looking around the room at everything but you, his fingers fumbling with his belt as if seeking something to anchor himself. "i'm alright."

"you sure?" you persist, a touch of concern pushing you to press further. usually, you wouldn't challenge him this way – because whatever he says goes in the time that he pays for. but the stark contrast to his usual demeanour gnaws at your thoughts. "i just want to make sure that you're okay–"

"didn't I say I was alright," he sneers, a defensive edge entering his tone, "it's like you don't listen or something."

“see, there is definitely something wrong with you,” you snap, screwing your face up at his tone, “since the usual geto that walks up in here knows that he’ll have my heel shoved up his asshole before he can talk to me like that.”

your words hang in the air, the charged tension growing thicker as you each hold your ground. he shifts his weight, his gaze flickering toward you briefly before skittering away. the air seems heavy with unspoken words, a tangible unease settling between you.

"i've actually been wondering how long we're going to be doing this for," he finally says, his voice low, almost as if he's reluctant to voice the thought.

“this?” you question, a confused look appears upon your face as you fold your arms. you knew what he was getting at – you just wanted to hear him say it, “you mean my job.”

his gaze finally lifts to meet yours, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. "oh, I didn't know it was your job to fuck the customers here. I thought you were just a stripper… not a prostitute." 

his words hit like a jolt, a rush of emotion flooding your senses as you absorb their implications. your jaw tightens, a surge of frustration warring with a pang of hurt. "don't be condescending."

he chuckles, the sound a mix of amusement and something else you can't quite place. "why not? you seem to be a pro at it."

“fuck you.”

“y’know, i’ve figured a lot about you in these times we’ve spent together – despite the fact that you don’t talk much,” he starts to say, his grin getting wider with every word, “i’ve worked out that you liked to be chased, you like the fact that I was intrigued enough to make you break your dumb ass rule, you like the fact that even after I managed to break down your pussy walls, I still wanna take your rude ass to dinner.”

his words cut deep, the truth laced with a mocking tone. you glare at him, the mixture of attraction and anger churning within you. he was right in a way – you did like the chase, the thrill of his attention. 

"you really have it all figured out, don't you?" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. his observations stung because they hit too close to the mark. but there was a small part of you that reminded yourself that he was just like the rest of the rich assholes that strolled through the club – and he was proving you right in this very moment.

“well suguru, i’ve worked some things about you.” you sneer, “you’re not the first wealthy lame that has walked into this club demanding more from me than a lap dance and some ego stroking–”

“but i’m the first to get it though aren’t i,” he interrupts, his tone teasing, “what does that say about me?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms defensively. "it says that you're just like the rest of them, thinking you're different, thinking you're special."

his gaze narrows, the spark of something more intense gleaming in his eyes. "oh, I never said I was different. but I am special, darling, and you know it.” you huff defiantly, sitting back down on the couch – this was an argument you couldn’t. because although he was cocky, he was right.

geto joins you, his hand coming gripping your thigh to get your attention, “look i don't want to be doing this with you, all i want is to spend time out with you outside these four walls,” he says as you gnaw on your lip, considering it, “it would be nice to see you with some clothes on for a change.”

he holds your gaze, his fingers tightening slightly on your thigh as if trying to anchor himself in the midst of the storm of emotions you've stirred. his vulnerability is a stark contrast to the confidence he usually exudes, and it catches you off guard. for a moment, you're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings – his words tugging at something deep within you that you're not quite ready to acknowledge.

but then, you remember the rules you've set for yourself, the boundaries you've fought so hard to maintain. no matter how much he may want to blur those lines, you can't afford to give in.

without giving him a direct answer, you shift slightly, his hand sliding off your thigh as you put some distance between you. your gaze flickers away from him, focusing on some distant point in the room as you compose yourself.

"well, hour's over," you finally say, your tone a touch colder than before. "leave the money where you usually do."

his face falls, the vulnerability replaced by a mixture of disappointment and frustration. he opens his mouth, as if he wants to protest or say something more, but the words seem to die on his lips. the atmosphere between you turns tense once again, the unspoken words and desires hanging heavily in the air. 

you don't meet his gaze as you move to gather your things, your actions brisk and efficient. you've mastered the art of detachment, of creating a barrier between yourself and the clients who come and go, no matter how they may affect you.

as you head toward the exit, your heart beats a little faster, a mix of regret and longing that you refuse to entertain. this is how it has to be – business, no matter how much your heart might argue otherwise.

behind you, you hear him sigh, a sound heavy with frustration and resignation. the door clicks shut behind you, the echo of the room's tension lingering in the silence.

he never returned after that. days turned into weeks, and still, geto's presence remained absent from the club. while you hadn't expected him to return, a small part of you had held onto a glimmer of hope that he might. but the weeks turned into months, and the emptiness left by his absence lingered.

life settled back into its routine – the dimly lit stage, the rhythmic music, you danced, you entertained, you put on a show. yet, there was an ache within you, a void that refused to be filled.

as time went on, you found yourself replaying memories of his presence in your mind – the teasing glint in his eyes, the genuine concern in his voice, the way his smile could light up a room. the connection you had shared, brief as it was, had left an indelible mark on your heart.

you missed the daily banter, the way he would surprise you with his insights, the simple pleasure of knowing he was there. the club felt different now, as if it had lost a part of its vibrancy. the nights were quieter, the laughter more subdued, and the glamour that once surrounded your performances felt somewhat dimmed.

despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the longing that had settled within you. you had a taste of something more with him, a glimpse of a world beyond the club's confines. and now, as you danced under the neon lights, you couldn't help but wonder if you would ever find that connection again.

the longing in your heart grew with each passing day, a constant reminder of what had been and what might have been. yet, even as you missed him, you were grateful for the moments you had shared – moments that had shown you a different side of life, a side you had almost forgotten was possible.

as you stepped into the club again to start your shift, an unsettling feeling settled in your stomach. the club, which was typically alive with the pulsating beat of music and the murmurs of patrons, was eerily quiet. it was as if the very essence of the place had been stripped away, leaving behind an empty void.

confusion crept into your mind as you glanced around, searching for any sign of movement or life. your footsteps echoed in the emptiness, the sound feeling unusually loud against the backdrop of silence. what was going on? had something happened that you weren't aware of?

just as you were about to turn and leave, the sense of unease growing stronger, your eyes land on a figure sitting on the main stage. your heart skipps a beat, a mix of surprise and a rush of emotions flooding over you. it was him – geto. he was here, his presence filling the void that had gripped the club.

he sat there, as if he belonged on that stage, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense as he watches you. the familiar, cocky smirk was ever present on his lips, and despite the confusion that clouds your mind, a warmth spreads through your chest at the sight of him.

as you draw closer, his smirk softens into a genuine smile, a glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes. the air was thick with tension, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty hanging between you. your heart races in your chest, the space between you charged with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"suguru," you finally breathe his name, your voice a mere whisper in the stillness.

he stands, his movements fluid and confident, as he closes the distance between you. "hey," he greets, his voice carrying a warmth that echoed through the empty club.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, your voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“let’s just say there’s new management here” 

“you bought the club.” you interrogate, “why?”

“i don’t know, im a guy with a lot of money, so i bought a business.” he shrugs blatantly lying, “that’s what guys like me do…”

"you missed me," you conclude, with a grin.

he nods, "I guess I missed you...or whatever," his facade drops immediately. "it's just after you rejected me, i was pissed. all i wanted to do was to show you that i actually cared about you, for you to give me a chance.”

“and buying the club was the most logical way for you to show me that you care?” you argue. “you didn’t have to do that,” emotions swirled within you – a mixture of surprise, hope, and a spark of something you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in a long time. before you could respond, he took a step closer, his fingers gently brushing against yours. it was a simple touch, but it held a promise, a connection that went beyond words.

"why do you always have to be so difficult?” he questions fiercely, “why can’t you just let me show you that i do care about you?”

the weight of his words hung in the air, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw the vulnerability, the sincerity that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface. “why do you care?” you retort, almost childishly. you knew that he cared, you knew why he cared – you just had an affinity for making things difficult. 

he rolls his eyes at your hard front “if it was anybody else, he would’ve given up a long time ago. but for some reason you were worth it. “because i see you for more than just the standoffish dancer who doesn’t let anyone get to her, im sure you know this by now.” he pulls you closer to him, into a strong hold. “now will you stop fronting and let me have you – all of you?”

you nod with mock reluctance, practically melting in his arms, “but what about my job? I’m not gonna stop being a stripper just because of you.”

“and i wouldn’t even ask you too,” he says quick with reassurance, “besides i find it hot that everyone gets to see you this way but they just can’t have you like i do.” he starts to work your top off your body, unhooking your bra, exposing your tits, “like just imagine, a crowd full of people watching me fuck the shit out of you — wanting you so badly, but not getting to touch.”

“we can’t do this here,” you gasp out as his fingers start to toy with your hard nipples, pinching and twisting them.

“why not?” he smirks, “you’re the boss aren’t you?”

“me, but i thought you bought the club.”

“you’re the one who said if i bought it you’d know that im truly obsessed with you,” he reasons, his lips pressing a kiss under your ear as he whispers, “do you get the picture now?”

“like I said you really d-didn’t have to do that,” you say, “i was the one that fucked things up here. you didn’t have to buy a whole business for get me to tell you that i like you.”

“oh so you do like me,” he comments sarcastically, “who would’ve thought.”

“shut up,” you grumble, swatting at his chest as he laughs, “i am sorry though. i don’t know why i pulled you into my little game, i knew i liked you a long time ago — but I just couldn't bring myself to admitting it. and I'm sorry for that .”

“it’s fine,” he reassures, “i knew dealing with you would be a challenge — granted i didn’t think it would be this hard — but i knew in the end it would be worth it.” his hands lower down your body, shimmying your pants off of you, “so now you gonna show me how sorry you truly are?”

AN: um so this was A LOT my longest fic ever, please lemme know what you thought since I am SOOOO UNSURE ABOU THIS ONE. thank you to my baessss @kazushawty @satoruhour for beta reading (I owe you two my life) also ur boss was pissed asf to find out that the club he owned was bought and given to you when he was the one that basically got you and geto together in the first place. ill make a part two where gojo comes back to the club to see the pretty little stripper who's got all of his besties attention looool jk

[minus-plus-zer0]

A Rockstar's Muse

♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Reader ♡ Tags: Established relationships, aged-up characters, rockstar AU

You have always been the center of all Bakugou’s love songs. 

If you weren’t famous already, the world would’ve at least known you for being Bakugou’s one and only lover. Bakugou built his brand based off of being a bad boy ‘wife-guy’, belting song after song about you and immortalizing your lives together through his career as a rock legend. After his songs charted high, he’d lavish you using the profits he received. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stand his constant love songs. You would call Bakugou every mildly insulting nickname under the sun. Dork, sap, nerd, dummy, etc. Your insults were endless so long as he kept strumming his guitar and serenading you, something he did long before he even got rich and famous. 

In private, it was worse. Bakugou hunted you down whenever he needed ideas, bugging you until creativity struck. You’d do something simple to help out like kissing his forehead, but one kiss wasn’t enough to satisfy him. 

“Forehead kisses?!” Bakugou barked, his arms around you as you sat on his lap. “Can’t make a song off of that alone. Gimme more.”

You kissed his chin instead. He still wasn’t satisfied. “‘Chin’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘forehead’. Try again.”

“How about you give me some kisses?” you said. “I’m starving for some love myself…”

Bakugou kissed you all over your face, hitting every erogenous zone possible within a record time of 15 seconds. 

“Don’t ever think I don’t love ya,” Bakugou said, wiping his lips. “You’re my only muse, ya hear me? …Shit, did anything I say rhyme?”

Sometimes Bakugou would write songs that he’d never publish so you could keep the song between yourselves, as a present. You would both listen to his albums to remind yourselves of the good times, long after you turned old and gray.

(The ending of this drabble makes me sad and happy in a way I can't describe ;-; I wish more fics dealt with Bakugou growing old with you. Also note to self this post is glitched in the tags)

[sinsofsummers]

sensational; part iii

6.1k | joel miller x f!innocent!reader part one | part two

summary: joel continues teaching you everything you need to know about desire. warnings: smut smut smut, 18+, mdni. yearning, teasing, thigh-sitting, grinding, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), fingers in mouth, joel almost loses control, age gap (reader is 25, joel is 56). i think that's everything. suchhhh impaired(drunk) editing. i'm so osrry. note: here it is. about a week later than i had planned. but i turned 21. cut me some slack HAHAHHAHA i hope you enjoy this unintentional third part to sensational! note: special shoutout to @cavillscurls bc she not only requested that joel call reader "babygirl" at least once but also that there be some aftercare so....this one's all for u pretty girl i hope your day is an easy one <3 ty for being my very first friend on here wahhh

Joel was used to the chill in his bones. It had been there since his thirty-sixth birthday, and had hardly begun to slip away until he'd met that quiet girl with a fiery spirit like his daughter. Ellie had made the icy tension thaw, and then he met her, the woman who'd begun to melt his very insides.

Was it her curiosity that was so...endearing? Astute? An inevitable addition to his patrols with her? Or was it the fact that she'd begun to smile when she saw him, if only a tight-lipped grin that emitted a soft glow like a secret shared with whispers?

He wasn't quite sure he even wanted to know what it was that had him hardening at the sight of her. So instead of thinking about it—something he wasn't very good at, anyway—Joel returned to his current position in the present moment.

He was on horseback, his gloved hands tightened on the reins, and she was perched in front of him, her back pressed gingerly to his chest and her thighs warming the insides of his.

Joel's mind wandered to the morality of his intentions, as they usually did when she was this close to him. What's she want with you, old man? That voice loved to pester him all day long, but he shoved it away this time when he pretended to adjust his hands on the reins. The movement made his arms tense around her frame, and other than her head tilting back to nudge his chin, there was no response. He thanked the horse for its strong, rocking movements that kept her body tense and pressed into his.

This girl is gonna be the death of me, he mused. And what a painless death it would be.

—

Despite the fact that you were entirely okay with this turn of events, you couldn't ignore the instinctual worry that bit at your insides. When you'd shown up at the stables that morning, Joel had already arrived, leading his horse by the reins.

"C'mon, doll," he said in that rough morning voice that was so attractive. "You're ridin' with me today."

Your brows had furrowed, and you looked toward the stables. "What about—"

Joel had shaken his head and held out a gloved hand for you. "Your horse is no good today," he said (with a less-than-convincing note of sorrow in his voice, but why would he show emotion for once in his life?), clearing his throat before finishing, "just you, me, and this one today," with a nod to his horse.

"Is he gonna be okay?" you asked as you took his hand, the heavy weight of his grip returning to you as a comfort now. "What's wrong with him?" He led you forward, but you couldn't help glancing back once more as if you were a kid getting dragged away by her parents from a candy store.

He squeezed your hand and smiled softly at you. "Gimme your hands, sweet girl," he murmured.

You obeyed without a second thought and let him help you up, the winter wind whipped around your hair despite it being trapped in your usual knit hat. His hands tightened around your hips as he booted you up, and you mourned the moment they left your body. Of course, that sensation didn't last long; he clambered up and mounted right behind you.

Oh. You hadn't considered that this would be the solution to your horse being incapable of patrolling today. Maybe this won't be so bad, you thought, feeling your cheeks heat up despite the chill. You let out a shaky breath at the press of his chest against your back.

"My horse?" you asked once more, despite not quite caring anymore; his arms were now enveloping you as he began making his way to the edges of Jackson.

His sigh created a brief cloud of mist in the wintry air, and the vibrations of his voice rumbled through your body. "Broken leg," he explained quietly, and you felt more than heard his words.

You wanted nothing more than to let yourself sink into the feeling of being so close to him like this, with your hips nestled right in front of his pelvis (a fact that was bound to distract you soon enough), but you forced yourself to inquire a final time.

"A broken leg?" you said. You didn't mean for it to come off as disbelieving, but...your mount had been just fine the day before.

Joel shrugged and instead of answering, he leaned in closer to your ear, his chapped lips scratching against the soft skin near your neck; your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. "Darlin'," he murmured, "don't you trust me?" One of his hands dropped the reins and curled around your middle, tugging you by the waist back into him. "I've got so much to teach you today."

The reminder that there was still more, that there was always more for Joel to teach you in the world of desire and sin...it was enough to have your mind going blank and your muscles relaxing at his touch. "Okay," you mumbled, not sure if he could even hear your answer.

His gloved hand moved up just a few inches before moving back to grab the reins, but you didn't miss the feeling (if only for a second) of his fingers brushing against the soft curve of your breasts.

You sighed gently and leaned back enough for your head to rest against his chest, your body full encased by his broad shoulders and burly arms. It was secure, it was safe, and the heady scent of leather and Joel nearly made your head spin. With all the possibilities of what he might want to teach you today, on patrol and so close to one another...you weren't sure you'd survive.

It was only a matter of time before your hands and mind completely lost their withering hold on social decorum.

—

Joel's composure was the first to slip, but you weren't far behind—of course, you'd never admit it to him. You'd made it about an hour outside of Jackson, your body rocking deliciously against his, and nothing but the wind to accompany your soft voices as you spoke.

"Those girls haven't bothered me anymore, you know," you said, turning your head to look over your shoulder at him. You nearly choked at the sight of him already looking down at you, his mustache twitching with his lips in a curious smirk. "Not sure what made them stop, though."

"S'good," he said, his jaw clicking before he continued. "But you're like an open book, doll," he said, eyes flitting back to his surroundings. "I'm sure they could see it on your face."

You huffed, cheeks warming again. "See what exactly?"

Joel reached down with a hand to run his fingers along your thigh, creeping closer to where a puddle of desire was growing between your legs. You leaned your head against his chest again and let out a wanton sigh, wishing his hands would creep closer to where you needed him most.

"That," he said, voice lilting with a satisfied arrogance. "It's that sweet face you make when you're wantin' somethin' from me."

"I don't have a face," you mumbled, your arms looping around his biceps and hanging on to them. It's terribly domestic, a voice murmured in your head, but you shoved it away. "What are you talking about?"

Joel leaned his head down to yours, his mouth in your hair. You felt him smile against your skin and he cooed, "Don't worry your pretty little head about that, babygirl." He moved his hand to your thigh once more and chuckled into your hair when you rolled your hips back into his. "Just let me make you feel good, sweetheart."

You wanted nothing more than to sink into his soft touches and whine his name until he brought you to the edges of ecstasy again, but the winter wind howled in your ears and reminded you that you couldn't afford to lose all composure. There was a very real reason you were on patrol; it would have been irresponsible to indulge in the sweet pleasure of Joel's touch.

And yet—you couldn't help it when you lifted your chin and pressed a swift kiss to his jaw, hoping beyond hope that it might prompt him to touch you, to kiss you, to do anything to relieve the familiar ache that was growing. It was all you could do not to begin begging right then and there.

So when he suggested that the two of you take a pit stop at one of the old abandoned cabins along your route, you nodded feverishly. It's not irresponsible if we're taking proper precautions, you convinced yourself.

"C'mon, dollface," he murmured, pulling the reins to a halt in front of a dilapidated shack in the wintry landscape. "Can't hardly focus with you rubbin' up against me like that."

The breathless chuckle that you let out sounded nothing like yourself; you were giddy with the impending pleasure that was about to come from Joel's lips, his fingers, anything that he might deem useful in bringing you another crumbling orgasm.

You practically fell off the horse into his arms with your tingling excitement, and Joel chuckled as your chest collided with his. “So eager, darlin’,” he mused, adjusting your knit hat where it had fallen below your eyes. “Makin’ me feel so special with that sweet face,” he said, his large hand snaking around your back to support you as the two of you traipsed through the snow to the cabin. 

It was only a little alarming that his hands on your body were so familiar after just a few of his “lessons,” but you chose to ignore it and sink into the weight of his warm hands perforating your coat. “Joel,” you breathed, and you didn’t mean for it to sound so desperate, but you couldn’t help it. 

Joel pushed open the door to the cabin—it took a few tries; it was frozen shut—and tied up his mount. “C’mere,” he whispered as soon as the door was shut behind you. His lips were on yours before you could suck in a breath of anticipation, and oh, how you loved the scrape of his chapped lips against your skin when he moved to press kisses to the line of your jaw. 

“Been thinkin’ of you, dollface,” he mumbled when he pulled back, his breath fanning over your face. “Been thinkin’ of you a lot.”

You blinked up at him, your lips already wet and wanting for more of his attention. With that dark look in his eyes, he looked as if he might devour you without a moment’s notice. Despite your ever-present reticence toward the things that Joel had taught you so far, you couldn’t ignore the way that your mouth had dried, mind empty of all words.

“Yeah?” you managed, swallowing roughly. In pure humiliation, you leaned forward to hide your face in his chest, inhaling that comforting scent of leather—it both cleared and muddled your head. 

He let out a rumbling chuckle, a looser laugh than you’d ever heard from him, and he placed his gloved hands on the sides of your face to tilt your head back up to him. “Yeah,” he said gently, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “Probably a little too much, considering I can hardly get through the night without gettin’ a hard-on.”

Your cheeks warmed as you blushed, and you instinctively tried to duck your head once more. Of course, Joel wouldn’t let you; he quickly rid his hands of his gloves and returned them to your cheeks, the chill of his fingertips contrasting with the heat of your cheeks. “You gonna kiss me again?” you asked, your voice small in its pleading. “Please?” you added, the syllable even quieter than the last.

“Fuck’s sake,” Joel murmured, and you weren’t sure if it was to you or to himself. He pulled you closer, and you could feel the hard outline of his cock against your hip. “Gonna kill me, dollface,” he groaned before he captured your lips in another bruising kiss, one that had your legs buckling. He kept you upright, with his hands wrapped tightly around your back.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip and you opened your mouth into his kiss, hardly able to believe how natural it felt to kiss him now. A strangled moan left your mouth and he swallowed it into his own, drinking it like a sweet nectar from the gods. His hands came up to feverishly rid you of your winter coat and you eagerly assisted him, clawing at his layers right after. 

“Teach me,” you begged, pulling away to catch your breath. Your eyes didn’t even open; you were too blissed out to care what you looked like or what he looked like in front of you. “Teach me,” the words came out again, and your bottom lip quivered as if you might shed tears. Your thighs clenched together subconsciously, doing virtually nothing to assist in the pressure that was growing. 

Joel hummed and his thumb carefully swept a caressing touch under your eyes, as if catching any tears that might actually fall. “No need to beg anymore, babygirl,” he cooed, “I’ll teach you everything you want to know.” He tugged your hat from your head and smoothed over your undoubtedly knotted mess of locks. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he flashed a smirk at you. 

“Promise?” you said, again in that small voice that had you almost kicking yourself. You were supposed to be an adult, mature enough to handle all of this. And you are, the voice in your head spoke harshly, you are.

Joel just nodded and tilted his head back, gesturing for you to follow him further into the cabin. “Stand there for me, doll,” he said, leading you into what must have been the living room some twenty years ago. A couch that looked like it might collapse in on itself sat against the wall, the only piece of furniture in the room. 

You stood where he placed you, but his hands dropped from your body when he went to sit down on the couch. With one arm moving to lay across the back of the couch and his jean-clad legs spreading in the way that made you want to kneel in between them, Joel beckoned for you with his other hand. “Now c’mere,” he ushered, and you couldn’t move fast enough. 

Your hands reached out to grab for him, to take off his coat and his shirt and let him lay bare before you like he had in your bed, but he shook his head. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart,” he reassured you, “remember?”

You knew this; both times before this Joel had made it clear that you needn’t worry about getting him off. You were supposed to sit back and let him show you how to feel good, but you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to obey his request. You wanted nothing more than to sit on his lap like he’d had you the first time, and you wanted to rub yourself against his cock so you could see how he looked when he was lost in the throes of his desire. 

“Babydoll,” he nudged you gently with his voice, and you blinked. “Hear me?”

Swallowing hoarsely, you shook your head. “Mm?” you hummed in response.

Joel’s lips curled up in a soft smirk. “Already distracted,” he mused to himself. A hand dropped to his thigh, and your eyes latched onto it. You had the sudden urge to take those fingers into your mouth, to feel the strength of his fingertips on your tongue—the fact that those same digits had been shining with your release (more than once) had your legs wobbling once more. 

“You’re gonna stand there,” he said, adjusting himself on the couch in a way that had your eyes glued to the growing tent in his jeans, “and I’m gonna watch while you make yourself come.”

You blanched, and the spot between your legs pulsed at the idea. “What?” You couldn’t help the slight disappointment at the realization that this meant he wouldn’t be touching you.

“You heard me.”

“But…” your hands flexed, needing to hold onto something. Your desperation for release was almost enough to have you sinking to the floor. “But…I don’t know how—”

Joel nodded, “You do. I’ve shown you, remember?” His fingers tapped a few times on his thigh, and his eyes slipped to drag along your body as you stood just a few feet from him. “And you know I can’t always be there when you need to come, babydoll,” he hummed. “I need you to show me you’ve learned.”

“But—”

“Show me,” he said, his voice firm despite the gentleness in his face. He palmed his cock through his pants and bucked his hips up. “C’mon, baby. Be good for me, I’ll make it worth it.”

Despite his instructions, you shuffled forward, arms out and reaching for him. You paused in between his legs, feeling the heat from his legs radiating toward you. 

But Joel only shook his head with an amused smirk. “No, no, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll come just as quick even if I’m just watchin’ you. I need you to show me what you’ve learned,” he repeated his previous instruction. “Touch yourself, sweet girl. Lemme see how you make yourself feel good.”

You didn’t move, unsure of how to begin—as it was now clear that he wouldn’t let you touch him, nor would he be giving into your requests. Standing there in your sweater and jeans and winter boots, you felt foolish. 

“I know you know how to start, baby,” he encouraged you while moving his hand along his hard cock in his jeans. “Take those clothes off, pretty girl.”

With an instruction to follow, your hands began to move, ridding yourself of your sweater and pants, even your thick boots. Standing in just your worn bra, your cotton panties, and your thick wool socks, you looked shyly toward Joel. It felt somewhat humiliating to have his eyes so intently held on you, despite his face being the picture of approval. 

He moved his hand once more and then he was unzipping his jeans and reaching into his pants, letting his cock spring free. He let out a shuddering sigh at the sensation; you were sure there was a thick feeling of relief that washed over him at the removal of any tight restriction on his erection. “C’mon, baby,” he cooed, and your eyes widened as he licked a wide stripe on his palm, returning his hand to his cock to give it a languid stroke. “I know you can do it.”

You gingerly dropped a hand to your waist, fiddling with the worn out elastic band of your panties. In front of you Joel let out a soft sigh, his eyebrows furrowing and his dark eyes growing even darker at the sight of your hand getting closer to your mound, where there was certainly a puddle growing. 

“Lemme feel it, baby,” he said gruffly, beckoning for you to step closer. “I know I said I wouldn’t touch, but holy fuck, dollface…I’ve never needed to feel something so bad in my life.”

You practically fell over your own two feet as you obeyed his request, stepping into the space between his legs. His cock was right there, and you wanted to put your tongue on the tip, to feel that bead of leaking seed that was sliding down the angry red head of his cock. “Joel—”

His only answer was with his two fingers pressing a featherlight touch to your bud, drawing a quick moan from your lips, your eyes closing and your hips rolling into the feeling.

“So fuckin’ wet, baby, I knew it,” Joel murmured, sitting forward and pressing a kiss to your stomach. “You’re always so wet for me, huh?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Of course you were; he knew this well enough now. But something about the fact that he kept asking…it only made you want him more. 

“Joel, please,” you begged, rolling your hips into his hand again and moaning desperately at the press of his hand against your bud. “I need you to—”

He pulled his hand away and sat back again. “Not yet, dollface,” he reminded you, returning his hand to his cock. “You haven’t even touched yourself, darlin’,” he teased, his tone a mocking coo. 

You let out another strangled whine, but shoved your hand into the waistband of your panties. “Fine,” you sighed, “but it won’t work.” As much as you wanted to come, you were reminded all too well of the last time he asked you to do this. You couldn’t obey his request, and he’d had to make you come all the same. So why would he make you go through the motions again?

Your finger caught on your clit and you inhaled sharply, eyes closing at the addictive sensation. You let your other hand slide up to your chest, instinctively massaging your own breast in the same way that Joel did—at least, as close of a replication as you could make. 

“That’s it, sweet thing,” he said in that southern drawl that had you perpetually weak in the knees. “Lookin’ so good like that, sweetheart, good girl,” he drew out the last two syllables, his teeth audibly gritting as he stroked his cock faster. 

You wanted to continue, wanted to hold onto the feeling of making him proud, but you didn’t know what to do. “Joel,” you begged, “I…” you trailed off.

Both of his hands came to your waist and you opened your eyes at one squeeze of your hips. “C’mere,” he groaned. “Just sit next to me, doll.” He helped you sit next to him, your head resting on the arm of the couch. Your knees came up to your chest, and he looped his thumbs into your panties, ridding you of them in a quick movement. 

Your head was spinning with the hopes that he might give in, that he might not make this foolish game go on for much longer. It had only been a minute or two, but you never wanted to make yourself come if Joel was always going to be so willing. “Joel—”

��Spread those pretty legs for me, baby,” he whispered, his big hands on your knees. When you couldn’t move your legs on your own, he gently nudged them apart, his eyes darting down to your dripping mound. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hand hovering over your folds, “even more appetising than I remember.”

The implication made your head reel. Surely he wouldn’t… 

But your thoughts were interrupted when he sat back at the other end of the couch, his cock sitting at the ready as he dragged his hand over it again. “I’m good at waiting, though,” he murmured to himself. “C’mon, princess,” he sighed, “just like we practiced. Hand on that pretty pussy, baby.”

The whine that left your throat was downright pornographic as you obeyed, the sound of his instructions shooting bullets of pleasure down your spine and straight to that sensitive bud at the crevice of your thighs. 

Just like we practiced, he’d said. You had no desire to disappoint him; you wanted to prove to him that you could do this, you wanted to see that look of flushed pride on his face when he came again. When you’d make yourself come. 

Your fingers slipped around your dripping cunt, still clumsy and untrained despite knowing just how Joel would make you come undone with his touch. You tried your best to replicate it, gliding your fingers in tight circles around your bud, or drawing long stripes in between your folds, but it just made you more frustrated. “Joel,” you whined again, “please.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning. “You’re doing it, baby. Look at you, rubbin’ that pretty clit for all it’s worth.” His words were bruisingly confident, but his tone was shaky and the only evidence that he was dangerously close to coming before you. 

“Joel, I—” you circled your clit once more— “I need you to—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, and you felt him shift closer to you—just a centimeter. 

You pulled your own hand away from your clit, despite your body begging for more, and you looked for a moment at the shine on your fingers. “Joel,” you repeated, “I…I want you to tell me what to do.” 

He was silent for a moment. Then, “That so?” His movements had stopped. 

You nodded, and couldn’t help the desperation in your voice. “Yes.” Somehow your legs dropped open even wider, exposing yourself to him further. “Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want me to do.” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gave yourself entirely to him. “I’ll do it.”

Joel had turned his chest to face you, and he ran a hand over his face. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, ya know?” he said, and you thought it was a minor jab at your eagerness until he dropped his hand back to his lap and you saw that blissed-out smile that you were learning to ache for. “‘Course I’ll tell you what to do. If that’s what you want,” he answered, and you almost came at the sound of his voice. 

He shifted so his body was facing you; the sight of him with his shirt buttoned, his pants still on, but the zipper undone and his cock bobbing heavily as he moved…it was enough to have you rolling your eyes back. Joel Miller was sensational. The essence of sin and seduction, and you only wanted more.

“Lift this leg for me, baby,” he murmured as he lowered his chest to the couch. You let him move your ankle to rest on his shoulder, then the other ankle to match. “That’s it,” he cooed, “you’re such a quick learner, babydoll.”

You blushed at the nickname, and when he sank to his elbows with his eyes on your pussy, your eyes widened. “Joel—”

You’d heard of this type of pleasure, but you’d never thought it was something men actually did. When he looked up at you with that hungry look in his eye, his tongue darting out to wet his lips like one might do before eating an especially good meal, you realized another thing. 

You’d never thought this could be something that men actually enjoyed.

“You want instruction, babygirl?” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh and chuckling when you shivered. “I’ll give you instruction. Lay back and let me take care of you. You’re always so good at that, yeah?”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer before he was dipping his head down to your most sacred spot, where you needed him most. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them against his ears as if they were keeping him warm in the cold temperatures outside. With one stripe from your weeping entrance to your quivering bud, Joel nearly made you come on the spot.

“Joel, I’m gonna—” 

He pulled back and smiled wickedly. “Already, baby? We’ve only just started,” he drawled, turning his head to kiss the inside of your other thigh. “Hold on to it for me, yeah? Gotta practice holding it for me, okay?”

You were too far gone to even grace his question with a response. All you could manage was a stuttering moan as you threw your head back and bucked your hips into his face, chasing your release.

Joel held your hips down with a light chuckle. “Wait, princess,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to your clit before continuing, “you don’t wanna fail your lesson, do ya?”

The implication that something might happen—or decidedly not happen—if you were to come before he let you only spurred you on. “Joel, please—”

“Just a little longer, please, baby,” he said, his voice a gentle moan. His tongue grazed your clit once more and he closed his lips over your bud, suckling just lightly enough to bring you closer and closer to the edge. 

It was then that you opened your eyes and looked at him; you wanted to see what he looked like with his mouth on your most sensitive spot if you were going to come. Your eyes caught on his hips, laid out on the couch further away from you. You blinked.

Joel was rutting into the couch. His hips were seemingly moving of their own accord, a smooth movement that was covered in sin and desperation. You thought about the fact that the curve of his hips would probably look like that if he were pressing his cock into you, and that was it. 

Your voice broke over the sound of your whines, and paired with his fingers coming up to press into your entrance, you were done for. You came hard over his fingers, your moans so loud that you thought someone would hear you all the way back in Jackson. “JoelJoelJoelJoel,” you cried, feeling the familiar rise of emotions in your throat. 

Joel pulled his head from your pussy and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just couldn’t help yourself, huh?” he smirked. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, although you weren’t sure you had the capacity to even be sorry just now; the sight of him getting off at the taste of you was enough to keep your mind busy for the next week. “I didn’t mean to—”

“S’okay, dollface,” he chuckled, “I forgive you. That pussy tastes too sweet to be mad about you comin’ all over my damn face.”

Your thighs lay open for another moment, and Joel absentmindedly put his hand over your clit to rub another gentle circle to your sensitive bud. He hummed when your hips bucked at the overstimulation before pulling his hand away. 

Your eyes dropped to his cock, sitting rock hard and definitely not spent. You reached out with your hand again, sitting up. The effects of your orgasm were still heavy on your mind, but in a wordless movement you sank to your knees before him. “You didn’t come,” you said, more of a question than a statement. 

He shook his head. “Don’t matter,” he said, patting a hand on your head. “That was just for you, doll.”

You frowned. “But—” you dipped your head down, aiming your mouth at his tip despite not knowing what to do beyond that. All you knew was that this was something he needed. The tip of his cock was leaking profusely now, and you wanted nothing more than to make him feel as good as he’d made you feel. 

“We haven’t practiced that one yet, pretty girl,” he said softly, and lifted your head from where it was aiming. “Trust me, doll, I want it just as bad as you want to give it to me.” He traced his thumb along the line of your nose, a habit that he’d been starting to pick up. “But we’ll do it when you’re ready.”

“Then I wanna practice,” you insisted, your knees digging into the cold wooden floor. You didn’t want to think about how you looked, your face showing the remnants of your orgasm and your entrance starting to drip once more at the thought of pleasing him. “Let me practice,” you repeated. 

He smiled ruefully. “Got nothin’ to practice on, sweet thing,” he said softly. “We’ll practice another day.”

You took his hand wordlessly, not sure where this bout of confidence was coming from. It was like you were drunk on the thought of making him come. He let you hold his hand in yours, and with one look up at him, holding his eyes in your gaze, you opened your mouth to slide three of his fingers onto your tongue. He tasted like salt and the sweet release of your own body. 

Joel jerked in your grip, his cock bobbing toward you and his hand nearly shoving itself all the way down your throat. “Holy fuck, doll,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. “S’enough to make a man leave his wife.”

You chuckled, knowing he was spewing nonsense from his lips now, but you pressed his fingers further down your throat, only stopping when they brushed the back of your throat, causing you to gag. 

“That’s okay, babygirl,” he said with another affectionate pat on your head. “You’re doin’ so good. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Thought I was doing well,” you said sheepishly when he pulled his fingers from your mouth. A string of spit connected his fingers to your lips.

He nodded and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You are, dollface,” he said. “You are. Maybe it’s me who needs a second to regroup.”

You knew it wasn’t true; his angry red tip was more than enough of a conflicting response to his words. But you let him pick you up from the floor and cradle you in his arms over his lap, rubbing his hands in circles over your body. “You’ll let me make you feel good, though?” you asked softly. 

Joel smiled. “‘Course,” he reassured you with a kiss on the cheek. “Next time,” he promised. 

It was enough. You nodded and rested your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the gentle curtain of sleep cover you. “M’tired,” you whispered, every inhibition gone. This man had seen and touched every part of you; there was no point in being shy.

“I know, baby, I know,” he said, and when his face wasn’t in between your legs, it was an awfully domestic phrase. “Just lemme hold your for a second. Then we’ll go back home.”

—

You didn’t know how you’d managed to get back on the horse, your clit sensitive and your whines hoarse with the constant friction as you rode back to Jackson. Your head had leaned back against Joel’s chest and he rested his chin against the top of your head, a constant warm presence as you rose from your post-orgasm haze. 

A happy accident, a faraway voice mused in your head. One horse with Joel on patrol? A dream. 

That is, until Tommy came out of the stables as you two approached. 

“Why’d you leave her horse here?” he called out, and you felt Joel tense behind you. “You forget how to ride a damn horse, darlin’?” Tommy said to you with that same southern drawl that his older brother shared in his voice. 

You blushed as Joel helped you down from his mount, and you hid your uncontrollable laughter behind your hand when he shared some tense words with his brother. 

“Fuck off,” Joel finished, but by the look of his wide eyes and red cheeks, you knew it held no malice. He was embarrassed. He’d faked your horse’s injury so he could hold you close. The realization made your head whirl. 

You walked off from the stables when the horse was returned to his stall, and you giggled when you heard Joel hurry to catch up with you. 

He looked around for a moment, as if checking to see if anyone was nearby, and then he delivered a quick swat to your ass, making you nearly trip in the snow. “S’not nice to laugh at an old man,” he said with a straight face, all business. But you could see the uncharacteristic rosiness in his cheeks, betraying his continued humiliation. 

You weren’t sure where the confidence in your voice came from, but you sighed with a, “Yeah,” before nudging him with your elbow. “Can’t help it when it’s your own brother, Joel.”

He shook his head and your arm tingled when he reached out with his gloved hand to clasp onto yours. “What am I gonna do with you, dollface, huh?” he mumbled, and you weren’t quite sure if you were meant to hear it until he looked down at you with a gentle smirk and a raised brow. 

You shrugged, your own cheeks heating up at the implications of what you were about to say. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Make another lesson out of it, I suppose.”

Joel just stared at you, a smug expression on his face. He tore his eyes from yours and played the part of nonchalance when he responded smoothly, mirth twinkling in those brown eyes you’d grown so attached to. “Maybe I will.”

this is so sinful i'm so tipsy rn i hope you liked it!!!! tysm for reading i love u all <3

tags (i'm so sorry it wouldn't let me tag everyone!!! i'll do the rest of my tags in the morning!!!): @morning-star-joy @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @dinsdjrn @mingiast @darkroastjoel @huffle-punk @jupiter-soups @elegantduckturtle @evyiione @bitchwitch1981 @disassociation-daydreams @mrsquill @littlemisssluttyknee @papipascalispunk @mumma-moonchild @buckbarnesdollsposts @kamcrazy123 @djarins-wife @lovelyladiess @impossiblebluebirdchaos @salsdemise @daddy-din @chaotic-mystery @laughcryreadsmutrepeat @prose-before-hoes-blog @morgaussy @thepriceofdevotion @chateausophie @livyjh @kittenlittle24 @ever-siince-new-york @julietamidala @3xclusive-y0ni @paanchusblog @okdeedee @scarletsloveletter @paleidiot @cleopatra99 @samuncenxsored @yourfavoriteredheadbitch-blog @brie-annwyl @spxctorsslxt @pattwtf @meijasworldasf @easaud @yuk-for-president @withrice-ontoast @ssssc0m @nini123 @bookishofalder @projectionistwrites @leeeesahhh

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley contemplates just staying in Mexico with you forever. Vacations look good on him, and you seem happier than ever before. But a return to San Diego means the final countdown to the baby is on.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral sex, adult language

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

There were no alarms set for work, no meals to cook, and no interruptions of any kind. Other than the occasional text from Cam letting you know that Tramp was being the best boy imaginable, you were solely focused on your husband and your daughter.

"She's kicking up a storm," you said from your lounge chair on the beach, and Bradley almost fell out of his own seat where he'd been dozing off and on to get his hands on your belly.

"Where's my little Nugget?" he crooned as he knelt in the sand. You felt her do a somersault as he looked at you over his aviators, and his smile grew. "There she is. I swear she knows when I'm nearby, Baby Girl."

You ran your fingers through his wavy, sandy hair and down along his scarred cheek. "She absolutely does." He kissed your arm without moving his hands, and then he pressed a sassy kiss to your chest through your bathing suit. "Vacations look good on you, Roo. You look very relaxed."

The dark circles under his eyes were virtually gone after a few days in Mexico. He was still chasing you down with the blood pressure cuff several times a day, and he was constantly trying to get you to eat or drink something, but he was obviously feeling very good at the moment. 

"Yeah, well what do you expect when my wife lets me cum all over her tits as soon as I wake up? And then I get tacos and margaritas for breakfast? Honestly, I'm thinking maybe we could just stay here? Rose could grow up bilingual. I could fly some charter planes back and forth to the peninsula. You can lounge in your bathing suit and look pretty. What do you think?"

You were cackling as you reached for the tube of sunblock that you never let out of your sight when you were with him. "Let me think about it while I reapply." You sat up, and Bradley sat on your chair between your legs, and you smoothed the lotion all over his broad back and shoulders before continuing down his arms. "We did just finish the attic at home," you mused as you massaged his bicep. "But moving to Mexico does sound lovely."

Bradley grunted as you kissed the back of his head. "You're right. One of those rooms will be Rosie's someday. Can't let that shit go to waste. Gimme," he said, holding out his hand, and he had you sit on his lap while he put more sunblock on you as well. You bit back a moan as his hands smoothed down your back to the top of your bikini bottoms, and his fingers dipped deliciously into the fabric.

"Do you ever think about how you put sunscreen on me at the cliffs beach? The day we had our first kiss?"

"All the time," he replied easily, rubbing circles along your shoulders. "Best day of my life up to that point. But don't forget, we didn't kiss, Sweetheart. You kissed me. And then I reciprocated with enthusiasm."

You looked out at the water and smiled. "You were pretty enthusiastic. And you were so sweet and sexy. How was I supposed to keep resisting you?"

"You weren't."

When you turned to face him, he was smiling, and you put a dollop of sunscreen on his nose. "Vacations really do look good on you."

He shrugged and leaned back in what used to be your seat. "Well, you would know better than anyone else. I never really took them before you." He coaxed you back so you were curled up in his arms, and he ran his thumb reverently along the valley between your breasts. "Can't wait to go somewhere with both of my girls. Maybe Disneyland? Rose can get one of those fancy princess dresses."

You moaned at his touch and his voice. "You're going to spoil our child rotten, aren't you?"

"Haven't I already made that abundantly clear?" he asked with a laugh. "Nothing's too good for the Nugget."

"You're as bad as my parents," you muttered, letting your eyes drift closed. 

"Okay, they might actually be worse than me."

"It's a tie," you whispered as you fell asleep.

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

"I don't want to go home tomorrow," you complained with a little pout. 

You looked like an absolute goddess at the moment, and Bradley wished the two of you could stay in Mexico longer. He watched you get dressed from the bed where he was lounging in his shorts and tropical print shirt. His stomach was growling loudly for dinner, but he was very distracted by how you looked as you pulled your dress over your head.

"Jesus," he groaned as you wiggled it over your bump and down your hips. "Could that thing be any tighter?"

"It's a bodycon dress, so no, probably not."

He had no idea what a bodycon dress was, but he really liked this one. "Fits you like a damn glove," he muttered. He could even see your nipples peaked against the fabric, and he started to sit up in bed.

"That's the idea. It's stretchy and comfortable, which is good, because my belly feels tender today," you said as you smoothed the dress over your body.

Everything was exciting to Bradley. You looked smoking hot. And a tender belly was just a reminder that the baby would be here soon. And he was about to eat more tacos and give you a little surprise after dinner. He just kept winning.

When you slipped your feet into your high heels, Bradley jumped up from the bed. "I don't want you walking around in those unless you're holding my hand."

"Why not?" you asked, looking at him with concern.

"I don't want you to trip. No more falls. And we're not going to dinner until I check your blood pressure."

He led you to the edge of the bed, got you seated, and kissed your belly before going to retrieve the blood pressure cuff. With a sigh, you held out your arm and said, "I've been eating and drinking plenty, Bradley. And getting some sun has been really good, too."

He grunted and got you all set up. "Maybe I just want to be sure my girls are alright. It's February now, Sweetheart. The Nugget will be here next month, and the last thing I want is for you to have to go back to the hospital any earlier than is completely necessary. But if your blood pressure isn't holding up, we need to know about it right away."

You reached for his face as he knelt in front of you, and he looked up to meet your eyes. "Rosie is the luckiest baby in the world. And you're already such a DILF. The gray hairs are definitely helping with that."

Bradley ducked his head in embarrassment. "Your blood pressure is normal. You ready for dinner?"

You moaned as he helped you back to your feet, and you let him hold your hand the whole way to the restaurant. "I need more tacos drenched in hot sauce," you said.

"I can make you tacos when we get home, and we can use the hot sauce you made," he promised.

"Oh," you gasped, wrapping your arms around him as he gave his name to the host. "I almost forgot you can cook things now."

He wasn't about to remind you that he was going to have to follow up with your mom again to be sure he remembered how to brown the ground beef. Not when you had that hazy eyed look on your face with your tits practically exploding out of your dress. He was suddenly so horny, he was considering skipping dinner, but he needed you to eat. He needed you to have energy for later.

As the host called out Bradshaw, Bradley leaned down to kiss your ear. "I need you to stop looking at me like that. At least until after dinner," he whispered. But you had been correct when you said that this vacation was doing something good for him. He felt incredible. The hotel room was comfortable, and you'd been wearing him out just enough that he was getting some solid sleep and waking up very refreshed. 

"Literally as soon as we get back to the room later, I want your pants off," you informed him in your bossiest voice. You didn't care who heard, because a second later, you were accepting a menu from the waiter with a smile.

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

Your belly was full of tacos, and you just watched your husband eat roughly his body weight in seafood, but he still looked sexy. He always looked sexy. Maybe it was your hormones, or maybe you were high on quality hot sauce. Or perhaps you were just hopelessly in love with him. But when he paid the bill for dinner and tucked his wallet back into the pocket of his snug shorts, you wanted nothing more than to fuck him. 

"The moon looks pretty," he mused as you left the restaurant hand in hand. "Let's walk down to the water."

"But it's pitch black outside," you told him when you realized there was barely even a crescent moon visible.

"Humor me," he said with a little laugh. You didn't argue when he started to tug you in the direction of the beach while he played with your rings. Before you got to the sand, Bradley knelt down to help you out of your shoes, and then he carried them for you. The soft sound of the waves mingled with music playing further up the beach. The pitch of the guitar was pretty, and the closer you got to it, the more familiar the song sounded. 

"Hey," you said as your steps slowed to a stop. "It's our wedding song. They're playing Everything!"

You could hear Bradley in the darkness more than you could see him, and his voice made you shiver. "It sure is. Nothing's too good for you."

Your lips parted in surprise. "How did you get them to play it?" Just then, the song changed to a slower guitar rendition of Roses by Outkast, and you bounced on your feet in excitement. "Bradley!"

"Sweetheart!"

"How did you do this?" you asked again as your cheek settled against his chest.

"I asked very nicely."

You laughed, because that was such a typical answer from him. If he wanted something badly enough, he'd go to the ends of the Earth for it, but he could usually get his way just by asking. 

"Do we have to go home tomorrow?" you whispered as he wrapped his big hands around your biceps, keeping you warm against the chill of the night air. "This is more fun than going to work."

He kissed the top of your head and said, "Spending time with you in any capacity is more fun than going to work, but we do need paychecks so I can spoil our kid."

You buried your face against him as you laughed. "It's all about Rosie."

"No," he corrected, giving your arms a little squeeze. "It's all about you and me and Rosie. Us against the world. A new era for the Bradshaws."

His words made you warm inside. "We're officially out of the honeymoon phase and in the baby phase."

"Well," he rasped, "I don't think we'll ever be completely out of the honeymoon phase, Baby Girl. Let's be real here." His hand slid down your backside over the tight fabric of your dress. "Not when you wear shit like this with your magic tits."

"You wanna see them?" you asked.

An hour later, you were in bed, sweating and whining Bradley's name. Your dress was pulled up above your hips and also down below your breasts, and he was absolutely worshipping you. You could feel the fabric of his discarded shirt and shorts next to you as you tried to wrap your fingers in the bedding to keep you grounded, but it was no use.

"Roo," you gasped, letting yourself get completely lost in the feel of his mouth on your pussy. He had one big hand splayed on your belly like he was protecting both of you, but his other hand was keeping your thighs spread wide for him. The wet sounds were delicious as he ran his nose over your clit.

"You've got the prettiest pussy," he crooned. "So fucking tight." His tongue slipped down until it dipped inside you, and he groaned as he sucked before pulling his lips free. "My god, you're perfect."

Your thighs were shaking slightly, and it kind of hurt to arch your back. All you could do was whine and hold onto whatever you could reach as you sucked in shallow breaths. You needed to come, badly. But he kept you right there on the brink as if he was trying to decide exactly how to finish you off.

"Roo," you whined.

"I know," he replied softly. "Me too." You were convinced he could read your mind by the way he shoved his cock inside you a minute later. It was such a different sensation, and then his mouth was on your breasts as he fucked you. His voice was aggressive as he whispered, "Your nipples are fucking delicious right now. I can't get enough."

If you weren't already pregnant, you were convinced you would have been tonight. He toyed with your breasts, rough hands and mustache everywhere. You were sore and tender, and he made everything feel better and also more pronounced at the same time. Your orgasm was building now, and while part of you wanted to crawl away, the rest of you couldn't get enough of him.

"Fuck," he grunted, his hard abs pressing against your belly as he buried his face to your chest. "Come on. Come for me!"

He pressed himself against your clit as he fucked you hard enough that your breasts were bouncing, and you closed your eyes as you finally clenched around his cock. The relief was immediate, and you let the needy sound of his orgasm wash over you.

Sticky cum coated up your thighs as he sprawled out next to you, his chest rising and falling rapidly from exertion. "You'll be the death of me, I swear," he muttered, eyes closed while you worked your dress up and over your head. He cracked one eye open and peeked at you. "Let's go skinny dipping."

You laughed as he helped you down into the private plunge pool a few minutes later. It was late, but you knew the two of you would have hours to nap on the flight home, so you let him hold you and talk to Rose. You let him tell you for the millionth time how excited he was while you could barely make out his face in the moonlight.

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

Bradley jerked awake as the plane touched down with a bumpy landing in San Diego. "Pilot must be retired Navy," he muttered to himself as you woke up next to him with a little pout on your face. The sky outside looked dark and cloudy for southern California, and he already knew what you were going to say.

"I don't want to go to work tomorrow. I want to eat tacos."

"I'll make tacos for dinner if you're well behaved," he promised as he turned his phone on again. A flood of texts from Nat came through just as it started storming outside. He scrolled through them and said, "Nat wants to know what you're doing on February fourteenth."

You stretched your arms over your head and gave him a funny look. "I don't know, Roo. You tell me. That's Valentine's Day."

"Oh," he replied. "Right." It wasn't like that day was particularly important to him. Other than the fact that he liked the color red, he could do without all of the chalky candy hearts and overpriced cards. The date never stuck in his mind like your birthday and November 28th did. That was the most romantic day of the year for him. His wedding anniversary was more important than pretty much anything else. "Well, how do you feel about having a baby shower on Valentine's Day?"

"A baby shower?" you gasped, a bright smile breaking out on your face. "I get to have a baby shower?"

"My god, you're adorable. Yes, you get to have a baby shower. I know your mom said she and your dad would rather wait until the Nugget is born to come out and help, so Nat is planning it."

You burst into tears, and Bradley's eyes went wide as rain pelted the airplane window as it taxied along. "What's wrong, Baby Girl?" 

He was already reaching for your belly as you wiped your eyes on the sleeve of his tee shirt. "Nothing's wrong," you sobbed. "That's just so nice of Phoenix to do that. Especially since she's really your friend."

Bradley kissed your forehead and swiped away your tears. "She's a lot more likely to do something nice for you than for me, and you know it, Sweetheart." Now you were laughing as you cried. "And keep in mind that you'll have to deal with Jake and Javy and all the guys being there. So is it really all that nice? It'll honestly probably be a shitstorm."

You nodded. "But it'll be our baby shower shitstorm."

"You're the only person I want to share a shitstorm with," he promised, helping you to your feet as the plane finally stopped at the gate. "Pretty soon we'll have literal diaper shitstorms, too."

You giggled as you wiped at your remaining tears while he reached down the carry-on bag. "You need to stop saying shitstorms."

He shook his head and reached for your hand. "I can't. I got started, and now I just can't."

It was nice to arrive at San Diego International and have you by his side for once instead of waiting at baggage claim. You and he walked slowly through the airport while you counted up how many times he could use shitstorm correctly in a sentence, and then Bradley drove home where Tramp was waiting.

"I heard you were a good boy," you crooned, scratching him behind the ear while Bradley made you a snack of hot sauce and carrot sticks. When you turned to him and asked, "Can you look at your calendar? We have a lot to do in the next few weeks."

He knew you meant the calendar on his phone, but he just smiled and said, "Absolutely," before heading out the back door toward the garage. He grabbed the dirty calendar you made for his birthday last year and brought it back inside where you were casually dipping a carrot into the hot sauce.

"Seriously?" you asked with a laugh when he held it up.

"This is the only calendar I use," he said, turning the page to February where the photo of you smiled back at him, mostly naked. "Holy shit. Six weeks until Rosie!"

"That's what I'm saying!" You had your hand resting on your bump while you poked at your phone calendar. Tramp was begging for a snack while you crunched on your carrot, and Bradley had the urge to go sit quietly in the nursery for a while. Every time he thought about his daughter, he got more excited, and it just made sense that she would be here soon.

"We've got a baby shower, maternity photos and last minute shopping to do," you muttered. "We should probably go to Costco soon."

"You get horny at Costco," he replied. "Block off a whole day for that. And block off a whole day for you and me to snuggle on the soft rug in the nursery. And block off another day for me to organize all of the cute board books on Rosie's shelf. I want everything to be perfect."

"It will be."

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

Roo is a sunny golden retriever husband even on a rainy day. They are well rested just in time for the baby shower and the Nugget's arrival. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 14

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[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely!! I hope you’re having a superbly wonderful week so far! I’m absolutely obsessed with all your whimsical!reader works, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to write another with tasm!Peter? I just love the dynamic of someone as scientifically minded as him with someone more celestial-oriented and he never makes her feel dumb or silly or anything and supports her ugh they’re precious <3 you’re precious too <3

Thank you for requesting angel! You're the most precious <3

tasm!Peter Parker x whimsical!reader ♡ 539 words

“This is your life line.” The touch of your fingertip is light enough to tickle. Peter shivers, but you’re too focused to notice. “It doesn’t have any breaks in it, which means you’re dependable and you have strong, healthy genes.” 

Peter hums. “Do you think it’s accounting for the spider genes, or just mine?” 

You nod. “I think you had good genes before that, but it may have gotten deeper over time.” 

“Yeah?” Peter doesn’t doubt that the lines on his palm have changed over time. He thinks it’s for different reasons than you do, but that’s okay. 

“Mhm.” 

“Show me another one.” 

You smile, and it feels like sunlight shining down on his palm. “I was going to. You’re in such a rush.” 

“Well, I’m learning about my fate and everything.” He bumps the top of your head with his nose. “It’s urgent stuff.” 

“This,” your index finger tickles across the top of his palm, “is your heart line.” 

Peter peers at it. “It’s short.” 

“That’s okay. It’s going towards your middle finger, which means you’re passionate. That seems right.” 

“Does it?” 

You hear the smile in Peter’s voice and look up to give him one of your own. “I think so,” you say in that soft, easy way of yours. “You’re very romantic. And see, it breaks into two at the end, which means you put others before yourself. That sounds a lot like you.” 

Peter admires your concentration. Your lashes screen your eyes as you inspect his palm, your features relaxed but lips still curved with the echo of a smile. 

“It’s mostly straight,” you muse, “which I think indicates that you’re content in your relationships.” 

“You don’t say,” Peter hums. “I wonder why that might be.” 

You laugh as he grabs you around the middle, pulling you close and planting a firm kiss on the top of your head. 

“I don’t need my hand to tell me I’m happy, you weirdo.” 

“I’m just telling you what it says,” you defend yourself. 

“Let me see yours.” He sits you between his thighs, leaning over your shoulder. 

“You won’t know what it means, though.” 

“You can tell me. C’mon, gimme. ‘Nless you have something to hide, huh?” 

You relinquish your hand to him, letting him smooth his thumbs over the canvas of your palm. You lean your head into his. 

“Oh,” says Peter. “Hmm. I see. This is very good.” 

“Peter.” Your voice is warm with fondness. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I know it’s pretty. It’s a very, very nice line.” He brings it to his lips. “It probably says something about you being sweet, and romantic, and having an okay-looking boyfriend who loves you a lot.” 

You turn your face towards him, your nose to his cheek. “Those aren’t the sorts of things it tells you. And you’re more than okay-looking.” 

“Pretty sure I’m reading it loud and clear, sweetheart. You sure you’re the one who knows how to do this?” 

“I think so,” you say. Your lips part contentedly when Peter finds them with his own, soft and pliant to his touch. 

“Guess I just have natural instincts for it, then.” 

It’s his favorite feeling, your smile blooming against his. “Maybe so.” 

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 17

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Mature (mentions of child loss and grief, aka we go through Joel's past one more time as he says goodbye)

A/N: We are at the end ❤ I am insanely nervous since the whole story was built around this final chapter...I really hope you like it. I am going to make a separate post with all my thank you notes, but for now: @the-scandalorian I literally could not have done this without your guidance and reassurance and constant support. I owe you everything, and I love you. @mrsmando thank you for looking this over for me, for being such an amazingly emotional ride or die and for inspiring me since day one of this fic with your massive brain. I adore you. finally, @bageldaddy thank you for yelling at me in the doc when I needed it, and for your constant Joel advice. You make me better. ❤

Series Masterlist

--

“That’s it, honey. You’re doin’ so good.”

 “Yea?” Straightening your back, you let your hips roll with the movement under you. The inside of your thighs burning with overuse, your voice is slightly breathless. “Like this?”

“It’s like you’re a natural,” he muses, giving you a wink. 

“I don’t know about that.”

A trampled path guides the horse more than you do, a circle carved into the grass in front of the cabin and you let out a breath, feeling yourself relax for the first time since you first climbed on. 

He didn’t believe you when you’d said you’d never been on a horse until you stood next to it, terrified. He had helped you up that day, climbing into the saddle behind you. When he noticed that you were paying more attention to the way his broad body encased yours from behind, he cut the lesson short with a teasing scold. 

Only to continue it in the bedroom later that night. 

He’s silent for a moment as he walks next to you, until June’s babble from the edge of the field calls out across the space. 

“See?” he says. “She thinks so too.”

She starts to crawl towards the two of you, and Joel is quick to stride over, picking her up. 

“I feel like I got the hang of it,” you say tentatively. “I’m not sure what to do if I have to take off on it though.” You look at him, the scenario only now occurring to you. “Hang on. What if I’m holding her and we have to run? How will I hang onto her and the horse? How –”

His hand comes to rest reassuringly on your thigh with a squeeze, stopping you.

“Don’ focus on that right now.” He shifts June in the crook of his elbow so that her outstretched hands can touch the horse. “Just focus on learnin’ the basics. When she’s down for her nap, I’ll get on with you and we can practice goin’ faster. Okay?”

He holds your gaze for a moment, sunlight catching the brown in his irises and curls. He raises his eyebrows in question, and you nod. 

“Okay. Yea, okay.”

Giving the horse a pat on its neck, you let June brush her hands over its coat. Her tiny fingers dig in, pinching the animal in exploration. 

“Easy, baby girl. Easy,” Joel murmurs. “You gotta be gentle. Like this.”

He takes her hand in his, petting the horse. Having no patience for the slow movement, she tugs her hand free to make a quick grab for the animal, and he chuckles, stepping back - only for her to erupt into a wail. 

“Aw come on. Don’ gimme those crocodile tears, baby.” 

Lifting her into the air, he holds her above his head and looks up at her scrunched face. His biceps strain the sleeves of his t-shirt, his curls fluttering in the breeze as he suspends her until her cries turn into whimpers, then giggles. Only then does he bring her down, kissing her on the cheek. 

“I knew you were fakin’.”

–

The plan was to leave tomorrow, at first light. 

Weathering weeks of up and down emotions, you’ve been constantly wavering between wanting to follow the others in hopes of finding somewhere safer for June and being terrified that you’re making the wrong decision. A silent war within yourself, always waging as you prepared. 

When it was just you and Joel, there were times that you had been afraid. You had eventually made peace with the idea that something might happen to you, even though you would have fought with everything you had to prevent it. The fear you feel now, however, is on a whole other level. Something more base, coming from deep within you. 

 It’s so much harder with June. So much more left to lose, so much more at stake. 

A bone-deep type of fear that took root in you the moment you realized you were pregnant, it only grew until it was something overwhelming. Something that choked you with nerves the day she came into this world. Something that reached down into the heart of you and grabbed hold of reserves you never knew you had. Something that turned you into another person entirely when you thought about anything happening to her - a very real possibility given the unknown you were willingly venturing into. 

In comparison, Joel seemed…calm. Always the case when he had a clear direction and a purpose, you couldn’t tell if it was because he truly believed this was the right thing or just because he was so caught up in the planning of it all.

Plants harvested and then pulled up to save the root system, seeds meticulously dried and saved in scraps of paper, everything protected with as much safe keeping as you could provide it. Stores of food organized and packed in makeshift saddle bags, clothing and rags for diapers and two sleeping bags and medicine and first aid supplies and knives and anything else you could think of that might be useful, already accounted for and packed away. 

All of it placed by the front door, waiting. 

You run down the mental list one more time while rocking June, eventually placing her in the crib after cradling the soft, warm weight of her sleeping body for a moment. 

“She go down okay?” Joel looks up from his place on the bed, the lantern glowing warm edges around the curve of his shoulders. The light splays across his skin, and he sets his book to the side. 

“Yea, she was just a little fussy.” Yawning, you crawl into bed next to him. “I think she can feel something in the air. Our nerves or something.”

“Probably,” he agrees. 

Sliding down under the quilt, you watch the shift of his muscles as he stretches to turn out the light. Joining you, he rolls on his side so you’re face to face.

Getting comfortable, you scoot closer. “So. Our last night.”

“Looks like it,” he replies, grasping your hand. He runs your knuckles over the  seam of his lips, giving them a kiss.

“Are you nervous?” 

He considers for a moment. “Yea. I know it’s time, but I can’t say I’m ready for what’s waiting out there.”

You nod.

Content silence rests between you, a cricket chirping right outside the window, the  gentle current joining the rustle of leaves as they stir in the warm night air. Your fingers play idly with the sparse hair that covers his chest, and he watches you in the darkness. 

“Are we doing the right thing?” you ask, your voice almost a whisper. 

“It’s a little late for that, honey,” he teases, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone. When you don’t reply, his tone softens and he continues. “Hey now. We are. I know it.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure. I don’t know if anyone is with any decision they make, honey. ‘Specially not parents. You can only hope, ya know?”

You draw your lip between your teeth, and he gently plucks it out with his thumb. Guiding your face to his in the darkness, he runs his touch across your cheek, stroking the soft curve. 

“Look at me.”

He’s right there, holding your gaze. Brown irises turned black in the dark room, holding you steady. There, like he’s always been. 

“This is the right thing. I know just as well as you that there is plenty out there to be afraid of, but I got you. I got you both. I ain’t gonna let anything happen.”

A tear slips from the corner of your eye, dampening the pillow case. Your fears getting the best of you, words come pouring out. 

“What if she crawls away while we are sleeping, or what if she gets sick? What if someone tracks us, and tries to take what we have?” You swallow hard, taking a deep breath. “If something happens to either of you, I –”

You can’t even bring yourself to finish the sentence, and he’s gathering you in his arms, pulling you close. The steady thump of his heartbeat underneath your cheek greets you, and you bury your face in the soft crook of his neck. 

“I know we have to, but I don’t want to leave. This is our home.”

He softly shushes you. “We’ll make a new one. Together.”

Cradling your head in his hand, he lets you cry, his fingers stroking over the crown of your hair. Wrapped in his hold, you let it all pour out: not deep, shuddering cries of despair but rather the silent cries of mourning, of nerves strung too tight for weeks. 

His hand slips down to rub between your shoulder blades and you close your eyes for a moment, trying to commit everything about this moment to memory: the mattress underneath you, the heat of his body, the husky rumble of his voice. The soft sheets and the worn blankets that have held the heat of your naked bodies countless times. His side of the bed that smells like him, his things on the nightstand, the feel of him in the middle of the night when it’s too dark to see. The scratch of his beard against your palm when you sling your arm over him in the night, just to find the bare patch along his jaw with your fingertips. 

You think about everything that’s ever happened in this bed: his confession about Sarah, the intimacies you’ve shared with each other under the safe veil of darkness. Sounds that these walls have absorbed night after night: his low chuckles and his murmured praises and his endless, reassuring love. 

When you’re done, Joel guides you back down into the mattress, using his hold on you to close the distance between your mouths. A gentle kiss for your lips, then your nose, then each one of your tear damp eyelids before finding your mouth again. 

You shift up, giving him access to deepen it as his tongue slides against yours, your body arching into the familiar taste and path of his kisses. Your fingers thread through his hair, slip down the breadth of his back, and curl around the back of his arms.

Your thighs hug his hips, his head dipping to find more of your skin. Laving the edge of your jaw, he gives your throat an open mouthed kiss as his hand pushes your sleep shirt up. Up, up, exposing the bare skin over your sternum and when his lips find your nipple, he draws into his mouth with a reverential suck. He laves his tongue over and around it, playing with the stiff bud as he rocks his hips into yours and when his teeth gently scrape, a moan catches in the back of your throat. 

The last time you’re ever going to feel him in this bed, you savor it. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he groans softly when his fingers find your slick warmth. 

“So do you,” you breathe, reaching down to guide his fingers inside you. They slip in with a slick, snug stretch, and he rests his forehead along the plane of your chest, watching your hand move with his. Crooking his touch to reach a spot that makes you keen, he rubs against it and you muffle your sounds against the firm round of his shoulder. 

Quiet. You have to be quiet. 

“Fuck me,” you plead against his skin, and he works his fingers faster, pulling back to watch your face. 

“I wanna make you come like this first. Gonna be awhile before I can take my time with you again.”

You say nothing, the air seizing in your lungs as you arch into the tight, syrupy warmth he’s building inside you. Clenching around his fingers, you’re tipped over the edge by the heft of his stiff cock rocking against your thigh.

“There’s my girl,” he praises. 

His words wash over your heated skin, his eyes flashing in the dark. Slipping his fingers from you to drag damp over your skin, he pushes your legs open to make room for himself.

–

Leaving you sated and asleep, he slips from bed as quietly as he can, stepping out into the inky night. Tugging a sweatshirt over his head, his feet are bare, the hem of his pajama pants skimming the grass as he walks down to the shore. 

A simple handmade cross made from the leftover wood from June’s cradle is gripped in his hand.

He kneels and taking his time, begins to delicately smooth out a patch of sandy earth. His fingers pluck away wayward strands of grass and toss out tiny pebbles until it’s cleared. A stack of stones he’s been gathering for the last few weeks rests in a pile nearby, waiting. 

Satisfied, he rests back on his heels.

“Hey, baby girl.”

Silence greets him, and content with that response, he continues.

“We’re leavin’ tomorrow.”

Reaching for the biggest stone, he turns and sets it just at the edge of the lapping water. He then balances the next one on top, slightly smaller than the one underneath it. 

“I’m not sure when we’ll be back, if we’ll ever be. But I’m gonna mark a spot for you just in case. My favorite spot.”

He adjusts a third stone on top of the others, his hand lingering to make sure it stays put. 

“I never got to –” he starts, steadying himself. “I never had a spot for you. Just kept you in my head, and in my heart.” He holds the fourth stone in his hand, looking at it. “I always wanted a place to visit you. A place to come to when I missed you, a place to talk to you.” 

He sniffles, using his knuckle to wipe at a tear that slips free and then places the stone on top of the others.

“Now I know that you’re always listenin’.”

The water washes over the base of the stones, the ripples sparkling in the moonlight and he finishes the cairn in silence, listening to the sounds around him. When he’s done, he looks up, and stares at the expanse of stars above him. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers. His voice wavers, and he swallows hard. “For everything. I know you know this, but I’ll – I’m always thinkin’ about you. I’ll always be here when you need me, okay? I will never stop bein’ your dad.”

A few more tears roll down his face, and he lets them go. The corner of his mouth eventually lifting, he clears his throat. 

“Maybe you could watch over your sister for me, make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble on this trip? Sometimes she gets this smile on her face and it’s just like the one you used to get.” A low chuckle slips free, and he hangs his head with a shake. “It's like I know she’s about to do somethin’ that she ain’t supposed to do, and all…'' 

The rueful smile on his face softens, his voice lowering with a rasp. 

“All I see is you.”

More tears come, silent paths gliding down his face and he sits alone with his thoughts then, on the edge of the river. 

That night comes back to him: the sheer terror he felt, the despair, the helplessness. The rage that filled him when he woke to find out that her body had been left behind, twisted and broken and all alone in the dirt somewhere. Like no one even cared to bury her, even if he knew that wasn’t the case. 

The blur of black days that followed her death, when he longed to join her. 

The weight of the gun in his grip, the thud it made when he whipped it at the wall with a scream when he missed. 

All the years after, trying to lock the memory of her away. The shadow of a person he became, all the things he did without an ounce of regret. 

A man with nothing to lose, because he’d already lost it all. 

When his tears dry, he looks up at the sky again and finally, he remembers a different memory. 

A warm night sky just like this one, the slippery cushion of a sleeping bag under his back and a petite, squirmy body stretched out next to him. 

“What’s that one, dad?” A swirl of stars above them, her small finger points at the brightest one. 

She sits up, the silhouette of her unruly curls calling to him and he brushes his hand through the soft texture of it, making up a name.

“Dad! Stop it,” she laughs. “For real. What is it?”

He makes up another one, and the girlish peal of her laugh echoes in the dark; the kitchen light from the house glowing behind them. 

Still feeling her curls against his palm, he takes the cross in his hand, and pushes the bottom of it into the dirt. Standing with a soft grunt, he brushes the sand from his knees and looks at it for a moment. 

A tiny thing, shadowed by the protection of a tree. 

Protected and safe, finally. 

“I love you, baby girl.”

With one last look at the cross, he makes his way slowly back up to the cabin. 

–

With June secured to your front, you walk around the inside of the cabin one last time. 

Domestic warmth infused in every room, items you have to leave behind paint a picture of the people that lived here: the westerns he read in his early days of avoiding his want for you stacked next to his side of the bed. The flowered quilt that you tucked yourself under on rainy days spread over the mattress. The bathroom, with its neatly folded yet mismatched hand towels draped over the bar next to the sink. 

The living room, with the dust that once coated everything gone, and the kitchen, with a neat row of washed pots lined up next to the dish rack that holds a mug used this morning. 

The clean windows that would let in the bright sun, save for the tarp along the back that has been secured in place.

Even the strangers that line the hallway live in cleaned frames, and walking past them, you wander into June’s bedroom to take one last look at her cradle. Impossible to bring with you, it hurts the most to leave behind. You’re still looking at it when Joel comes in from outside, calling your name.

“In here,” you call back, and he comes to stand behind you, curling his hands around your hips. You lean back into him, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, reading your mind. 

“I’ll make her a new one, honey. I promise.”

You turn and give him a watery smile, and he presses his lips to your forehead. 

“A big girl bed this time, I think,” he coos down at June, and she reaches for him, fussing when he doesn’t pick her up. 

Cradling her squirming body, you follow Joel outside. 

Next to the porch, the horse shifts under the weight of the saddle bags, stomping her feet and you watch as Joel soothes her, sliding his hand down over her coat. Ropes securing everything, she is weighted with your belongings and with the plan  to walk beside her as much as possible, you start to untie her reins while he closes the front door. 

The original tarp that covered it is dragged back into place, and when everything is as it was on that first day you found it, he gives it one last look.  

Coming to join you with his rifle slung over his shoulder, he takes the reins. 

“You ready?”

At the sound of his voice, June looks at him and smiles, a tiny dimple piercing her chubby cheek. He returns it, reaching out to grasp her foot with a wiggle. 

“Are you?” you ask. Your brow knit with gentle concern, you nudge your chin towards the water. 

“Your spot is beautiful, by the way,” you say softly. “June and I said goodbye this morning. It’s perfect for her.”

He says nothing, gratitude spilling from the depths of his eyes. Looking at you for a long time, he then leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. 

“I guess time heals all wounds,” you muse, thinking of the man you came here with and he pulls back.

Looking down at you both, his expression turns into a sort of solemn earnestness.

“It wasn’t time that did it.”

Your fingers locked in June’s fist, she pulls them into her mouth for a nibble and his hand reaches up to stroke the curve of her cheek, and then your own before leaning in for a kiss.

Walking away from the cabin, you look back when you reach the far edge of the original path that brought you here: the only visible indication of the structure a slice of muted, dingy blue in a sea of lush green. Leaves crunch underfoot as you walk beside him, the slope of his broad shoulders a map that you’ve always followed without question. With another couple steps, the cabin disappears from view.

Looking forward, you lace your fingers with his and walk.

[theemporium]

🧸 Lando's baby being a music lover just like their mum!!! (i love music everything, playing, singing, making GIMME EVERYTHING) also ilysm cece, you're such an angel

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It became clear at a young age that little Margot Norris adored music.

It never mattered the song or the artist or the genre of music, any form of it seemed to calm her down in a way that seemed like a miracle when it came to babies. Lando had made countless jokes that it was because of all the different genres you would listen to when you were pregnant. He joked that she had spent most of her time inside you being surrounded by music that only followed her into her own life. 

He joked but it wasn’t really a joke. 

Margot Norris was a carbon copy of you with her love for music. She seemed to take after her mother in the way she craved it, the way she desired it, the way she gravitated towards it. And it made Lando’s heart clench so tight in his chest, he thought it was going to explode. 

“Daddy likes music too,” he spoke to the baby in his lap as he set up the control board in front of him. “Daddy used to be a DJ, you know? People loved it, honey. They went crazy for my music.”

Margot babbled like she understood what he said. 

Lando grinned widely. “Yeah, exactly. You get it, smarty pants. And look, Daddy still has all his old equipment he can teach you.” 

Whilst he knew Margot was still far too young to show any understanding in the words or instructions he was giving her as a six month old, it still warmed his heart to watch her reach for the same buttons he just pressed like it was a game. It made him feel like her music obsession was a little bit of him too.

“What are you doing?”

It almost made you laugh the way both of their heads snapped up at the sound of your voice. 

“I’m making my girl a DJ prodigy,” Lando said proudly as he glanced down at the baby in his lap, her head tilting back to look at him. “Isn’t that right, honey? M’gonna make you the next Steve Aoki.”

You snorted. “What if she wants to do classical music?”

“I bet that can be DJ-ed too,” Lando said with a shrug of his shoulders before he leaned down to press chaste kisses on Margot’s chubby cheeks. “You are gonna be the best DJ this world has ever seen.” 

“So you’ve already given up on making her a racer?” You teased as you wandered deeper into the room, taking a seat by Lando beside all of his DJ equipment surrounding him on the floor.

“Of course not,” Lando scoffed. “She just needs a hobby until she’s old enough to go in a kart.”

You shook your head, though you were smiling. “A DJ prodigy and a racing prodigy,” you mused as you let out a low whistle. “We’ve made a daughter with many talents.”

Lando puffed his chest. “She gets it from me.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby.” 

“I thought a good wife was meant to further her husband’s delusion.”

“Not this time, babe.”

.

[diremoone]

shanks drabble

semi-blind! & injured reader ;; mentions of marineford

“How’s your eyes?”

“They’ve been sore today, but good.”

“Good to know what Benn told me matches up.”

You sigh. “Snitch.”

The red-haired man to your left chuckles. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, thumb grazing over the pretty bejeweled ring on your left ring finger.

“I’m not allowed to be worried about my wife?”

“Not on the better days, no.” You smile as he presses a sweet kiss to your cheek. “I love you, Shanks.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replies. You can hear the smile in his voice.

You blink through the haziness of your vision to try and focus on the outline of your husband. He notices quickly too, because he can see you trying to focus your eyes and brain on what’s left of your eyesight.

“Don’t… Baby…” he tries to stop you, but is cut short by you grabbing his chin and pushing his head side-to-side.

“You’ve let your hair grow out,” you muse.

“Is that a bad thing?” he inquires playfully.

“Not at all… Unless you’re going for that look back in your late twenties,” you joke.

Shanks groans, but that turns into a smile as he hears you giggle. He plucks you from the chair you’re sitting on and swings you around. You yell and laugh as he does, completely taken off-guard by your husband’s antics.

One arm and he’s still more than capable of lifting a hundred of you if he wanted to, you think in delight.

When Shanks brings your feet back down to the grassy plain, he buries his head into the crook of your neck, strong arm wrapped tightly around your back, hand squeezing your hip. Your husband holds you close and takes a shaky breath.

“Shanks…?”

“Fine… Just gimme a minute.”

It’s been nearly a year since Marineford. The anniversary of that day is coming up soon, and you’ve most definitely noticed that Shanks has been around more at home lately. Especially after Benn mentioned it.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him closer. His breath on your neck tickles, but you try and hold it together for a few more minutes until he lets you go. But as your arms slide down from his neck, Shanks catches your left hand again and holds it, lacing his large fingers between yours.

Unspoken words resonate between you both—from him to you—as he leads you back home.

I’m glad you’re still here.

Thank you for staying alive until I got there.

Never leave me. I’ll protect you.

That day was filled with horror and sadness beyond imaginable. You had been there that day, fighting the battle to get back the boy you thought of as your nephew. That day, you hadn’t just lost him, but a good chunk of your eyesight as well, along with a prominent limp. All courtesy of the Marines… specifically Kizaru.

You tug Shanks down gently by the arm and stand on your tippy-toes to peck his cheek.

“Love you.”

You don’t have to have eyesight to know he’s smiling.

Shanks stops, wraps his arm around your shoulders and holds you close to kiss you and take your breath away.

He nuzzles your nose when he pulls away. You can’t help the amused snort that leaves you.

“Love you too.”

idek where the fuck this came from but have it and enjoy!! now back to my daily ramblings of sylus from l&ds hehe

[scara-meow-che]

「 💭 」⠀overstimulating childe and albedo because you can't get enough of their cum!

cw. NSFW (MDNI), afab! reader, reposted and edited work :D, multiple orgasms, messy sex (yes), an abnormal amount of cum, riding, oral (m), dirty talk, use of names (princess), baby trapping, bit of dubcon (tagging this just in case), pure filth

A L B E D O

he just thinks it's just another of your silly games.

judging from the way your body accepts each of his relentless thrusts had him feeling weak and close to surrendering. he can feel his thighs ache, his balls tighten to the stimulating feeling of shooting his creamy load inside your leaky cunt but your words keep echoing inside his mind, making it hard for him to stop—

"just a little more 'bedo. a-ah, right there.”

you called out to him, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him into a messy kiss. you kept on surprising him, right after your hands went to lock around his neck your legs as well hooked themselves around his hips. "i'm so close 'bedo. ro-rougher please~" and he followed, putting all his focus on his hips, aiming for the sweet spots that had you creaming all over him.

he loves this, more than he can admit it himself. he loves how you’re being so needy, so whiny from being stimulated so much by his cock and his cock alone.

"hng, you're so damn tight around me," uttered the alchemist before cussing under his breath as he felt your greedy hole sucking him, forcing more of his cum inside of you. he hisses at the way your gummy walls continued to clamp down on him, pulsing with warmth that pulls him deeper and deeper.

"not enough, 'bedo. still want more of you inside of me, pretty please?" your murmur when you rut your hips upwards, forcing your aching thighs to meet his halfway, letting your clit rub on his pelvic bone, feeling his stiff cock twitch despite how many times he had already came in you.

"still want me to stuff your pretty holes, princess?" albedo muses but groans when your warmth constantly pulsed to suck all the cum he's been saving in his balls. with every thrust that follows after your wishes had him weak against you, the tip of his dick feels so sensitive while it hits the spot he knew would have you seeing stars.

"yes, 'bedo. wanna suck you dry, gimme all your cum."

your words, glazed with the intoxication of lust that erases all morals you have on yourself, pushed him more to rut his hips even when the sharp jolts sent from the head of his dick all the way to his real head had him losing what he's supposed to do.

he unknowingly slows down his pace, trying to catch his breath and to lessen how his hips strain a little from how his cock aches from cumming so much. but that didn't stop your body from rubbing itself against him, desperate to feel more stimulation.

you unwrapped your legs once more around his waist, bending it just to jerk your body upwards to meet albedo's throbbing and leaking cock.

"c-close, so close!" he surprisingly cried out but he was quick to bite down on his lower lip to stop more of the breathy moans and low whines to escape his mouth. but you can hear him, shooting dopamine through your body that you can't help but coo at him.

"you're so good for me 'bedo. thank you for your cum, thank you for filling me up."

C H I L D E

he's really whiny as he came for the fourth time this night.

you kept on rocking your hips over his hard cock, smothering his skin with open-mouthed kisses, sucking on the flesh on his neck, marking him everywhere your mouth can reach. your hands were busy helping yourself in lifting your trembling body to roughly fuck your sloppy cunt all over him.

"f-f/n, shit, isn't this e-enough for the night?" he asks, back arching as you tightened around him. "f-fuck, i'm so sensitive already, please."

"not enough, it's not enough childe. please, i want more of you." a purr out of your lips together with the lustful glaze of your eyes had him weak. a sucker for your love, childe just lets you use him for your own satisfaction, hissing when you creamed around him, coating both your thighs with your juices as you squirted from the satisfaction gotten from being fucked full of his cum and cock.

"a-ah, shit, you're so damn tight f/n, fuck, please, 's too much." a hushed whimper came out from childe, causing something inside of you to stir more desire in wanting him. his hands were tight around your hips but faltered as soon as you moved once more through the sensitivity of your clit rubbing so eagerly on his groin.

he just feels so damn good to be inside of you, so hard and long that with every rut of your hips to meet his hits the right spots inside. addicting, childe's cock is truly addicting that you craved to feel more of him, just fucking yourself that the cries he let go pass through your head.

"wanna be full, full of you. give me one more, please, just one more."

childe can only feel this pleasurable pain stinging from his cock, feeling himself close to being milked dry but your body isn't stopping until he had given you what you want. he, himself, is growing addicted to the feeling as well, toes curling as another orgasm peaks behind the ache between his legs.

his eyes peered up on your face, looking so satisfied as you get closer to another sweet peak of yours. after a few rolls of your luscious body against his, both of you came at the same time, both your cries and groans echoing in the room.

childe is fucking spent, heavy intakes of air followed the growls from his throat. just as when he thought you're done, you removed yourself and looked at how your hole is practically dripping with both your cum, childe's cock flushed with a dark pink color at the tip with every vein. your eyes sparkled, licking your chapped lips before sliding yourself down between his legs.

the dangerous glint on your e/c orbs alerts childe and he was a bit too late on pulling you away because you finally have his pretty cock inside your mouth.

[thecapricunt1616]

More Daddy!Carmy brainrot

Sorry but more postpartum daddy!Carm brainrot below.

Please- he would be such a natural little daddy?

He would wake the second his babe fussed, getting up without missing a beat, carefully taking the few steps to the bassinet and picking up his tiny love. Mumbling

‘Hey- eyyyy sweet’eart, y’hungry? Mm? Need a change? Let y’Daddy have a look ‘uh? Daddy ‘ell take such good care’e’ya mm?’ Kissing their tiny forehead so lovingly before checking their diaper to assure they were dry and comfortable.

Then he’d grab the super comfy overpriced boppy from the rocking chair, setting his tiny love to rest comfortably on his shoulder and shushing them while rubbing their back and bouncing them gently, patting their bum soothingly and telling them that their daddy’s got them and it’s gonna be ok.

He’d ever so gently wake you, brushing his knuckle over your cheek. You’d stir lightly and he’d whisper sweetly

“Say ‘m’hungry mama’s’ mm? Y’Such a smart little guy yea?” You hear him mutter into your little boys skin.

“Hungry?” You mumble, eyes fluttering open at the word, realizing the full feeling in your breasts and immediately knowing what you needed to do.

“ ‘ayyy look who it is lil’dude? S’that mama?” He coo’s, gently cradling him. Your baby makes little clicking noises and you smiled, pushing your nightgown off your shoulder and undoing your nursing bra.

“Gimme my little man” you open your arms and your beautiful little boy carefully was placed in your lap in his boppy, and he ever so naturally found your breast suckling happily and sighing as he comfortably rested his hand on the hill of your breast and relaxed without a care in the world. Carmy of course would grab your little let down bottle and get it situated on your other breast without even asking.

“Such a good eater” he encouraged, sitting beside you after the letdown bottle had been taken care of and rubbing your lower back gently.

You shifted uncomfortably at the cramps, resting your head against Carmys shoulder and he ever so gently stroked your son’s cheek. “Mama is so strong, huh babe? See how strong she is f’you?” He says gently and your son’s eyes fluttered open, watching his dad closely as he suckled happily, a tiny smile on his lips.

“So strong” Carmy whispered as the baby huffed happily against your breast, gulping down all he wanted.

“M’tired- an’ he’s biting lately” you whisper. Carmy lays back, supporting your son with one arm and you with another.

“Sleep angel, I got em- he’s fine, won’t choke see- he’s sittin’ up honeybee. I’ll burp em’ as soon as he’s done yeah? An’put y’letdown milk in the fridge f’em yea? He’s good - ye’ mister? No bitin’ y’momma! Y’gotta be nice t’her- she does such a good job feedin’ you mm? Be a good little man” He cooed to your son and in response he made a sweet ‘hmmmm’ noise as he continues to gulp down your milk, kicking his little legs sweetly and watching his dad kiss his little feet playfully.

“Mmhmm” you said tiredly, yawning big and Carmy rubbed your belly gently.

“Such a good mommy” he encouraged, gently rubbing your sons foot to which it curled up sweetly

“D’y’know what that’s called?” You muse, watching as his toes curl back and widen adorably to your touch.

“Mm?” He asked gently, not wanting to disturb the gulping little guy on your breast.

“The babinski reflex” you mused smiling softly as you watch him eat.

“The babinski reflex…” carmy repeats, watching him closely. “What’s that baby?” He mused

“S’just a reflex mammals have - see watch -“ you gently place your thumb in the middle of his foot, and his itty bitty toes curl around your finger “that is the grasp reflex. Smart boy” you coo, kissing his foot gently and he huffs into your skin, closing his eyes again.

“Grasp mm? His hand does that too watch” he mused, brushing his pinky over the babes palm and he grasped Carm’s finger tightly, before letting go of your breast with a click and bringing his finger to his mouth and sucking it.

Carmy didn’t stop him, in fact, he grabbed his phone and took a video of his little guy “babe! Babe look! He’s sucking my finger!!!” He said excitedly, looking at you then back at the phone in disbelief.

To which you’re jokingly like “Mmhmm! Wanna take over? Feeding him off my tits every hour is getting exhausting bear if you wanna have a turn I mean…”

[fastfists]

✖ // been quietly lurking on your stuff. your portrayal is always fantastic to see.

✧ send me a ✖ if you enjoy my portrayal of my character ✧

[KIA SCREECHING] Ahhhh, thank you Q3Q I am glad you have been enjoying seeing my boy on the dash, it makes me happy to hear >//3//< Also, to you and anyone else lurking...feel free to yeet your muses at me. I am slow as a snail through molasses BUT I swear I want to interact with you all so badly.

[rawmeknockout]

Oh god, gimme some Astrotrain x Minibot- I need some macro micro. Maybe have him rough, but sweet towqards the reader? If thats ok? Thank you!

Among all the Decepticons, you're his favorite little victim. Quiet and obedient, too passive to tell any superior where they can shove it. Even among the more 'amicable' Cons, you're an exception. Perhaps it's your cowardice that keeps you from snapping at the other soldiers. Maybe there's actually some kindness underneath all your heinous actions. Astrotrain certainly hasn't seen you cry over squishing some fleshies, not like the Autobots. Astrotrain has collected many little bits and bobs of information about you; mostly through faraway observation. He hasn't ever had the pleasure of being on a real team with you, relegated as little more than a vehicle to bustle his 'comrades' (Astrotrain finds the notion ridiculous upon closer inspection) to and fro.

If he ever got to lead a faction, Astrotrain would be sure to make you one of his lackeys. He would love nothing more than to watch you toil without complaint, at his beck and call. You would follow any order, no questions asked, and the idea makes his array online with interest. You would be so tiny beneath him, as he demeans you for the smallest mistake, and you would surely stand there and let him. Not once raising an optical ridge or twitching in agitation. Content to be complicit in anything he commanded of you.

But perhaps, he muses, it would be nice to reward you as well. Hold your trembling thighs open with barely any of his immense strength as he kisses your valve. You are so small in comparison to most cons, even most minicons, so you would surely be dwarfed by his frame. But Astrotrain would be... Gentle. As gentle as a mech of his strength can be with one so small. He would cup you in his servo, cradling you to his enormous spike. And you, sweet and pathetic, wouldn’t even fuss; ever obedient. Perhaps you would even be happy to pleasure your superior, happy to be of use. He can already imagine the slick buildup of lubricant on your delicate valve lips. He’s far too big for you and he could never hope to fit inside your frame, but just seeing the head of his spike pressed to the tiny opening of your valve would be enough to get him to overload.

Would you moan as his transfluid floods the opening of your valve? Would you gasp as it splatters across you abdominal armor?

A shudder wracks Astrotrain’s spinal strut, unfortunately bringing him back to the present where he is yet to achieve the heights he’s capable of. But soon…

A grin splits his face, baring glimmering metal fangs. You are blissfully unaware of how soon he will be upon you.

[uncleeater]

Keeping Warm - LN4 🍋 (1/12)

Warnings: Smut under the cut, some cursing, lando being a perv, fem!pronouns, fem!anatomy

A/N: My first ever fic! i hope yall like it, gimme some feedback on what to improov upon in the comments pls :3

Word Count: 882

It was -5°C outside, cold covering everything it could, inconsiderate of broken heaters and electricity-dependent 20 year olds. So, you and Lando, pretty much. "Dammit, my phones almost dead." Lando softly whines, phone in hand as he walked out of the bedroom, "You wouldn't happen to have a spare power bank, would you?" The snow storm had blown out all the power for the city, leaving everything electronic screwed until the storm blew over. This included phones, chargers, microwaves, ovens, fridges, and the such.

You glance up from your book, watching your boyfriend flop down onto the bed in front of you. "No dice. My turn for a question: Have you found any extra blankets?"

He moves his head to the side, jokingly glaring at you. "Oh, because I'm your little slave that's only here to provide warmth. I forgot, sorry."

It's your turn to glare. You loved your boyfriend, but he was a bit dramatic at times. Times = always. "Slut is the preferred term, but That works too."

"....Wellllllll..." Lando looks at you with an evil grin, "What if your slut had a new way to keep you warm?"

"But my book!" You groan as it's snatched from your hands

"C'mon, baby," Lando coaxed, sliding off of the couch and sitting down in front of you, "not even for your poor, sad, lonely, desperate, hopeless boyfriend?"

"Wow, not dramatic at all" You retort, putting your computer to the side and looking down at him

"Cmon. the heaters broken, we don't have a fire place, and we've already used all the blankets. Name a better way to keep warm."

Lando grab your knees, spreading them apart and kissing up your thighs. His eyes flick up to yours, clouded with lust as he gets closer to your core.

"Lan." You hum softly

"Yeah?" He muses in return, peppering kisses up and down your thighs, teasingly switching to the other each time he gets close to your core. He knew what he was doing, and was planning on milking it for as long as possible.

"...If, and that's a strong if, I let you get what you want, then do you promise to let me do my work later?" You say quietly, looking down at the beautiful boy between your thighs

"Mhm...promise baby, I promise..." Lando's words are slurred slightly, his lips prioritizing kisses more than words at the moment

You shift on the couch slightly, hooking your thumbs under your waistband. Lando looks up at you, moving a hand from your thigh to grab onto your shorts. he slides his fingers around next to yours, tugging your shorts and panties down to your knees. His eyes roam over the newly exposed skin, hands unhooking your bottom layers from around your leg.

"You okay with this?" Lando checks with you, looking up at you

"Yes, I am. You?" You smile down at him

"More ready than I've ever been." He breathes, his hands moving your thighs apart. His lips ghost against your thighs, rushing to your core. He briefly hesitates before his tongue slowly licks up and down your cunt a few times. His lips wrap around your clit, rolling it in his mouth gently.

"Ah..." You gasp, one of your thighs lifting up in attempt to move your cunt closer to Lando. His hand reaches up and grabs it, using it to pull you against him. Your back was against the couch, legs thrown over Lando's shoulders. Your wet cunt was perfectly level with his face as he sat on the floor, right in front of the couch.

He detaches his lips from you, letting go of one of your thighs. He brings his hand up to his mouth, licking two fingers wet. He slides his fingers up and down your folds, spreading the spit-and-slick mixture around. Once he deems you wet enough, he slips two fingers into your heat.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry out, back arching at the new sensation. Lando grins, tongue going back to thrashing around your clit. As he makes out with your cunt, his free hand grips your thigh and pulls it against him to stop you from slipping away.

He loved you like this. He loved you always, but this was a special side of you that was just for him. Only he could make you feel this way and that was practically enough for him to cum on the spot. Or make you cum on the spot.

His index finger pulls out, giving just enough room for his tongue to replace it. His tongue undulates inside you as his middle finger pumps in and out. His eyes dreamily close as feels his tongue begin to be constricted. Realizing that you were about to cum, he gives a few last good sucks to your cunt.

With a final wave of pleasure, you sink into your orgasm. Heat from your core presses down and then explodes all over your body. You become numb to everything except how Lando drinks up your soul.

As the waves die down, you become aware of everything around you. Lando moves over to the side of you, crossing his arms underneath his head as it lays on the sofa cushion on your right. He grins, looking you up and down.

"Warm enough now?"

[castiwls]

Better man .ᐟ

Paring; patrick x reader

Prompt; 'i hold onto this pride because these days its all I have'

Requested; no

Notes; requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

You hated the way your heart seemed to pick up when you’d opened the door. The way you could feel your chest tighten slightly as you stood in shock for a moment.

You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t do this. For your own pride you’d promised that if Patrick zweig ever came knocking you would slam the door and not look back.

And you’d been so close to doing it. So close to saving your own pride but he’d been quicker.

He shot you that same boyish smile which used to make you melt, the same smile he’d used when he’d told you that nothing had happened.

The same smile he’d lied to your face with.

He’d stood there with that smile and his best impression of a kicked puppy as he’d pleaded. “Just for tonight. I haven’t got enough for the motel.”

You knew you should have shut the door. He survived just fine without you normally so there was no reason to take him in - yet a small part of you couldn’t do that.

You couldn’t leave him in his car all night, it was cruel.

Maybe Patrick deserved it - a part of you thought he did - but one look at his face and you were folding.

Patrick had happily made himself at home as you’d watched from the kitchen. His eyes stayed locked on you from where he sat, his fingers drumming against his leg subconsciously.

“Whatcha makin’?” You jumped slightly at the sudden closeness of his voice. You hadn’t even heard him cross the space from the couch to the fridge where you stood.

Patrick grinned slightly his fingers brushing your waist as he leaned over your shoulder to look at the contents of your fridge.

“We could get take out?” He mused like this was normal. Like it was normal to be discussing dinner options with your ex-husband on a Tuesday night.

“Can you pay for takeout?”

“I can pay you back.”

A sigh left your lips as you closed the fridge. “C’mon that pizza place you like is open.” He pressed as you turned to face him. “Just gimme a week okay? A week and I’ll pay you back.” He leaned down slightly, his nose almost touching yours as he spoke.

His voice was quiet, the same tone he used whenever he wanted something. A tone you’d come to realise he used when he knew he was in the wrong.

He’d used the exact same one in Atlanta when he’d reappeared at 6am. “Nothing happened. Just went for a walk.” He’d said as he continued to pepper kiss across your neck.

You’d barely been able to get a word out before he’d managed to pull you under him and quickly make you forget anything besides white-hot pleasure.

You’d should have ran then and there but you didn’t. You didn’t because you loved him and a small part of you thought that maybe he loved you to.

He’d come back to you still. Hadn’t he?

“Five days.” You said after a moment, swallowing down the pit growing in your stomach as old memories flashed through your mind. “You have five days Patrick.”

He huffed moving back but nodded. “Alright. I can do that.”

“Great.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

Patrick Zweig was the worst person alive.

He was the worst person alive and yet you still found yourself shifting towards him subconsciously.

By the time you’d both finished the food his arm had somehow found home on your shoulder and your head had somehow ended up on his chest.

His thumb rubbed absent circles into your shoulder as you both watched the movie.

Well, you watched the movie. Patrick seemed pretty engrossed in watching your expression as you watched the screen. Your lips were drawn into a slight pout as your fingers absently fiddled with the sleeves of your (his) hoodie.

“You're not gonna make me sleep on the couch hm?” His lips ghosted over your ear as he spoke. You shifted slightly so you could face him.

A small sigh escaped you as you took in the pleading look on his face.

You knew you should push him away. You should be firm that he was staying on the couch.

He’d broken your heart and trust in the worst way possible yet seemed to be able to weasel his way back into your life no matter what you did.

The worst part…you still loved him. You loved the way he still held you like he used to, the way he wanted to sleep in your bed.

He’d continued to come back to you even after you’d pushed those papers in front of him.

He did almost everything right but you knew deep deep down that he knew he was in the wrong for that night.

Somewhere in there was a better man and you sometimes got a taste of that.

Patrick smiled, his thumb brushing your cheek.

He had you hook line and sinker yet…

“I am.”

His face fell ever so slightly and for a moment you saw the same person who had stood in your kitchen and declared that he had done nothing wrong. The same man who had looked you in the eyes and told you that you could never be her.

You may have been a weak person when it came to Patrick but you still had just enough pride to enjoy the look on his face as you stood from his hold and grabbed a duvet and pillow from the cupboard.

“Goodnight Patrick.”

[starhvney]

What music do you think garroth Travis or Laurance would listen to👀👀

𝐌𝐘𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒' 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐂'𝐒

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: laurance, garroth, and travis

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: for some reason i had some trouble narrowing down what they'd listen to, but here's my headcanons!

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

genuinely his liked songs playlist will give you whiplash. he really loves some oldies (a mix of pop, rock, and jazz), and then suddenly you catch a little of his 2000s rock and emo music (remember, he used to think the shadow knights looked and seemed cool), and then a little bit of alt/indie.

bro’s got a “little bit of this, a little bit of that!” ass playlist. here’s a few examples:

blue train by john coltrane

that’s life by frank sinatra

maneater by daryl hall and john oates

psycho killer by talking heads

head over heels/broken by tears for fears

house of the rising sun by the animals

come as you are by nirvana

hysteria by muse

risk by deftones

cherry waves by deftones

somebody told me by the killers

back to me by the all-american rejects

for you the moon by basement

today by smashing pumpkins

drive by incubus

hearing damage by thom yorke

weird fishes/arpeggi by radiohead

𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇

i feel like he’s the type of guy to happily listen to everyone else’s music, and he doesn’t really complain about it either. but if we’re talking about the main music he listens to on his own, he really likes alternative/indie-pop, and generally listens to upbeat, feel-good songs. he kinda discovered some of the more indie artists and songs when he overheard it playing from vylad’s room one day.

here’s some examples of his favorites that he listens to:

tongue tied by grouphouse 

everybody talks by neon trees

she’s kinda hot by 5 seconds of summer

electric love by børns 

out of my league by fitz and the tantrums

misery by maroon 5

animal by neon trees

electric feel by mgmt

my kind of woman by mac demarco

honeypie by jawney

sit next to me by foster the people

lover is a day by cuco 

honey by johnny balik 

sink into the floor by feng suave

gimme love by joji 

the less i know the better by tame impala

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒

yet another one with diverse music taste. he’ll go from hip hop and rock to alternative to cunty kpop songs to cute kpop songs and then to theatre songs. i’m not sure if i’ve mentioned it before but i really love the idea that travis not only listens to kpop but memorizes and practiced the dances in his room. i believe i got the idea from @milkeywaylady on tiktok lol.

his list is even less coherent than laurance's. but anyways, here’s some examples for him:

hey ya! by outkast

promiscuous (feat. timbaland) by nelly furtado

the way i are by timbaland

heaven and back by chase atlantic

me and your mama by childish gambino 

life of the party by the weeknd

selfish by pnb rock

into your heart by trevor something

plastic beach by gorrillaz

alone, together by the strokes

float on by modest mouse

run devil run by girls’ generation

너 때문에 미쳐 (you drive me crazy) by t-ara

pop! by nayeon

attention by new jeans

try again by d.ear and jaehyun

bohemian rhapsody by queen (LMAOO you can’t tell me he wouldn’t know all the lyrics)

sincerely, me from dear evan hansen

a guy that i’d kinda be into from be more chill

first burn from hamilton