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jungwnies · 27 days ago

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F1 GRID (1/2) | being lifted onto a counter

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, & charles leclerc (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon 🫐) : your f1 boyfriend picking you up on the counter... or maybe even vice verse for shits and giggles ;)

୨ৎ : genre : comedic romance & slightly suggestive (for some drivers) ୨ৎ : tws : suggestive if you SQUINT ୨ৎ : word count : 1893

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : y'all it's freaking race weekend finally... i can feel the winter depression leaving my body 👻

ʚ・max verstappen

max was feeling smug.

not that it was unusual, but this time, he had good reason.

he had just lifted you onto the kitchen counter with zero effort, hands firm on your waist, placing you there like you weighed nothing. you had gasped, mildly startled, but it was hard to argue when his grin was so self-satisfied.

“there,” he said, standing between your legs, his hands still resting on your thighs. “problem solved.”

you arched a brow at him, trying not to melt at how good he looked with his post-workout messy hair and that stupid smirk. “oh? and what exactly was the problem?”

max shrugged, fingers giving a playful squeeze to your legs. “you were in my way.”

you scoffed, lightly smacking his shoulder. “you just like showing off.”

his smirk widened. “you love it.”

you rolled your eyes, but your fingers didn’t move from where they clung to the fabric of his hoodie. “i could lift you too,” you blurted out, immediately regretting it.

max paused.

his eyebrows slowly lifted, amusement twinkling in his blue eyes. “oh yeah?”

you hesitated for a split second but quickly doubled down. “yeah. i bet i could lift you.”

max chuckled, fully entertained now. “go on, then.”

and that was how you found yourself attempting to lift a nearly 6-foot, 160-pound world champion off the ground like you had something to prove.

you wrapped your arms around his waist, bent your knees, took a deep breath… and nothing happened.

max did not budge.

instead, you let out a strangled grunt, your arms barely managing to shift him an inch before your muscles gave out.

max was dying laughing, barely holding himself up as he leaned into you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he shook with laughter.

“oh my god,” he wheezed. “are you even trying?”

you groaned, face hot, still stubbornly trying to heave him upwards. “you’re—way heavier than you look!”

max tilted his head, grinning. “are you calling me fat?”

“yes,” you gasped, dramatically collapsing against him, completely out of breath. “you’re made of bricks.”

he was grinning like an idiot now. “maybe you just need to train harder.”

“oh, shut up.”

max smirked, leaning in way too close, his hands firm on your hips again. “admit it,” he murmured. “you like when i do all the lifting.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you’re insufferable.”

his smirk widened. “still stuck up here, though.”

and yeah, you were. but you were never admitting defeat.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the kitchen was warm with the scent of fresh coffee and something sweet, probably the pastries lewis had insisted on picking up this morning. you were barely awake, wearing one of his oversized hoodies, standing by the counter and lazily stirring your tea.

lewis, fresh from his morning workout, had already found his way behind you, arms loosely wrapping around your waist. his chest was firm against your back, radiating warmth.

“you’re in my way,” he murmured, but his hands were sliding against your hips, fingers pressing into the fabric of the hoodie that was very much his.

“you came into my kitchen,” you pointed out, sipping your tea.

“our kitchen,” he corrected smoothly, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

you could hear the smirk in his voice.

before you could fire back with something equally smug, lewis’s hands suddenly gripped your waist, and before you knew it, you were lifted effortlessly off the ground. a surprised gasp left your lips as he set you down onto the kitchen counter, placing himself between your legs.

your heart stuttered at the sudden shift.

“lewis,” you laughed breathlessly, palms pressing against his chest. “what—”

he leaned in, his face dangerously close to yours, his hands sliding to rest against your thighs.

“you were making things difficult down there,” he murmured, his fingers teasingly brushing against your skin. “this is a much better angle.”

your breath hitched slightly, eyes flickering to his lips before snapping back to his teasing gaze. “you could have just asked me to move.”

lewis smirked, tilting his head. “where’s the fun in that?”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “you just wanted an excuse to put me here, didn’t you?”

he hummed, fingers still tracing slow, absentminded circles against your thigh. “maybe.”

your body betrayed you, warmth creeping up your neck at how easily he could make your knees weak.

lewis noticed. of course he did.

his lips brushed against your jaw, feather-light. “are you flustered?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to play it off, but your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his hoodie. “you wish.”

he grinned, hands squeezing your thighs slightly. “you’re right,” he murmured, voice lower now. “i don’t have to wish.”

and just like that, your entire morning plans shifted.

ʚ・george russell

you were standing by the kitchen counter, still wrapped in one of george’s oversized shirts, attempting to make coffee when two strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

a lazy smile spread across your face. “good morning to you too.”

george hummed against your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your exposed skin. “mmm… morning, love,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep. his arms tightened slightly, pulling you closer into his warmth. “why are you up so early?”

you laughed softly, leaning into his hold. “it’s almost ten.”

“that’s early.”

you rolled your eyes, feeling his lips brush against your neck again. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m on vacation,” he reminded you, burying his face in your shoulder like he could melt into you completely. “and i don’t want to start my day without at least five minutes of properly cuddling you.”

you smiled, melting at how soft he was in the mornings. george was always composed, always put together—but here, in the quiet of a vacation morning, with the warmth of the sun on his skin and no race weekend stress in sight, he was nothing but yours.

you turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. “what if we just stay here all day?” you suggested, voice teasing.

george lifted his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “i love the way you think.”

and before you could even react, he effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his hands firm on your waist.

you gasped, clutching onto his shoulders. “george!”

he grinned, stepping between your legs, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. “now i have your full attention.”

“you always have my full attention.”

his smirk softened into something sweeter. “good,” he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

the coffee sat forgotten on the counter, the warm breeze from the open windows making the moment feel even dreamier.

“best vacation ever,” he mumbled against your lips, pulling you even closer.

and with the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, you had to agree.

ʚ・carlos sainz

it started as a completely innocent idea.

you had seen carlos do it before—effortlessly lifting you onto the kitchen counter like you weighed nothing, always with that smug little grin. it was annoying how easy he made it look.

so, today, you decided to flip the script.

carlos was standing at the counter, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone while waiting for the kettle to boil. his posture was relaxed, completely unsuspecting. it was perfect.

you took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, attempting to lift him off the ground.

attempting.

because the second you tried to pull him up, you immediately regretted it.

carlos didn’t budge.

not even an inch.

if anything, you were pretty sure you moved yourself more than you moved him.

carlos, who had barely even reacted, finally glanced over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “what… exactly are you doing?”

your arms were still locked around his waist, your feet planted firmly as you tried one more desperate attempt. you groaned, using every muscle in your body to lift him.

nothing.

carlos grinned, setting his phone down. “are you trying to pick me up?”

you panted, feeling a bead of sweat forming. “yes. shut up.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “good try, amor.”

before you could even process his words, his hands were suddenly gripping your waist, and in one smooth motion, he lifted you clean off the floor.

a surprised yelp left your lips as he spun you around and set you down directly onto the counter.

carlos, still grinning, stepped between your legs, his hands still firmly on your waist. “that,” he said, tilting his head, “is how you do it.”

you scowled, crossing your arms. “unfair advantage. you’ve been training your whole life.”

carlos hummed, looking way too pleased with himself. “and you thought a sneak attack would work?”

“i thought you’d be caught off guard!”

he chuckled, leaning in closer, his voice teasing. “you think i don’t always expect your little tricks?”

you huffed dramatically. “one day, i’ll lift you.”

carlos smirked, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek. “mmm. looking forward to it, cariño.”

and somehow, that felt like an even bigger challenge.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the party was in full swing, music humming through the air, laughter spilling from different corners of the room. you were standing near the bar, chatting with a few friends, sipping on your drink when you felt a familiar warmth press against your back.

charles.

“having fun?” he murmured, his breath brushing against your ear.

you smiled, not bothering to turn around. “i was… until some guy started interrupting my conversation.”

charles chuckled, his hands casually sliding around your waist, his fingers pressing gently into your sides. “some guy, hmm?”

“mmm.” you took another sip, playing along. “he’s kind of annoying.”

before you could tease him any further, his grip suddenly tightened, and before you even had time to process, you were lifted effortlessly into the air.

a surprised gasp escaped your lips as he set you onto the bar counter, right in front of everyone.

“charles!” you smacked his chest, your legs dangling off the edge as he grinned up at you.

his green eyes sparkled mischievously, hands still casually resting on your thighs as he leaned in just a little closer. “what? you looked too nice standing there, i wanted you at my level.”

“you are so improper,” you scolded, fighting back a smile.

“maybe,” he murmured, his smirk turning softer as his fingers lightly traced circles against your skin. “but you love it.”

before you could retort, a dramatic groan echoed from behind you.

“oh my god, can you two not?”

you glanced over your shoulder to see lando, rolling his eyes, drink in hand, looking utterly unimpressed.

pierre, standing beside him, shook his head. “they do this everywhere.”

“i’m sick of it,” carlos added, taking a sip of his wine. “they don’t even care we’re here.”

charles, completely unbothered, grinned up at you. “jealous?”

lando scoffed. “of you? no. of her? maybe.”

you laughed, finally giving in and threading your fingers through charles’s hair, letting your other hand rest on his cheek. “fine,” you sighed dramatically. “i guess i’ll keep you.”

charles leaned into your touch, smirk fading into something sweeter. “good,” he murmured. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

and as much as your friends complained, neither of you moved.

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cyberjam · 2 years ago

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ATSV HEADCANON: they have a crush on you . . . ☆

warnings - none really, super fluffy and adorable :), semi-proof read so i apologize for grammatical errors if there are any! no use of name or y/n, gender-neutral reader!

word count - 2.1k

main masterlist <3

☆ . . . miles morales

I imagine you two already being well-acquainted friends with each other once he realized his feelings for you. For quite some time he had a crush on gwen but now his heart strings are pulling him towards you, so he's struggling when it comes to addressing his feelings.

If you're in the same room as Miles, he will stare. Any conversation that he was having before is long forgotten and all that's on his mind is you.

Miles doesn't need to study, he's one of the top students in school. But he continues to go on study dates with you because he likes being in your presence and sharing his headphones with you while eating yummy pastries.

He has an entire journal dedicated to you. Said journal includes: small journal entries of his day with you, little quotes of the funny/cute things you've said that stuck with him throughout the day, candid drawings of you that he created whenever you two hung out, cute sketches of you and him stargazing or slow-dancing together (and other secret drawings of him saving you as spider-man and cradling your body in his big strong arms but we won't get into that...)

Miles really can't get enough of you. He laughs extra loud at your jokes even if they aren't funny, his heartbeat quickens at the mention of your name, he'll offer you his jacket even if you don't need it, he always smiles when something reminds him of you, he'll share his headphones with you and shyly ask if you and him can make a "study playlist" (he listens to it at night while drawing you), and overall is just madly in love with you.

He wants to be with you more than anything, he's just struggling to find the right time to ask you. <3

"Hey, don't touch that! It's- No! It's not a diary, it's just...secret."

☆ . . . gwen stacy

She's pretty awkward herself. You were assigned to be partners for a project that would play a big part in your final grade, she came off slightly cold and seemed to be annoyed at your presence which made your relationship start off rocky. In reality she was just stressed, juggling her spider duties, getting kicked out of her house, and then school on top of that, it was just a lot. But when you made the effort to plan things and work around her busy schedule (that you didn't really know anything about) she started to become grateful for you.

Your parents welcomed her kindly each time she came over to study and whenever she would leave she was happy with a full belly and a sore face from smiling and laughing with you all night. The project was supposed to be done by the end of the semester but you and gwen were able to finish it the first month you got it. That didn't stop her bi-weekly visits, that then turned weekly, until she was suddenly walking home with you everyday, from and to school.

She likes to compare hands, shoes, and height just to see the difference in sizes. On walks back from school she'll give you a piggyback ride if you ask nicely. She also likes laying her head in your lap, if you run your fingers through her hair she'd be fast-asleep within 5 minutes.

You and her tend to share your oversized clothes together, You always wash her jackets/sweaters after you wear them, which she absolutely loves. She's fallen asleep curled up in your hoodie, inhaling the scent and listening to whatever song you rambled about the previous morning on repeat until she finally asks you to just make her a playlist. Hobie definitely knows about you, only because she slipped up by saying too much.

She enjoys staying over your house during rainy days. She tends to tense up whenever you're watching tv together on your bed and your head falls on her shoulder. During missions in other spider-verses gwen has taken little souvenirs from different worlds and given them to you, she always does it in a nonchalant way as if she wasn't grinning ear to ear on her way back, excited to see how you'd react.

You don't have sleepovers often but when you do they always seem more intimate than your usual hangouts. When you wake up and see gwen flustered on the other side of the bed you never understand why, not knowing that when you were fast asleep she woke up cuddled into you, nuzzling her body into yours.

"I-uhm. I-uh just had a weird dream. Nothing to worry about, heh.."

☆ . . . pavitr prabhakar

It's very obvious he has a crush on you, it might as well be written on his forehead. He follows you around like a lost puppy. He's constantly offering to carry your books, opening doors for you, paying for your snacks, and even giving you hand massages when you've been writing an essay for too long. He's just completely whipped for you and you're not even dating (yet).

You were a transfer student and he was assigned to show you around Mumbai. He found himself getting giddy at your cute reactions to the different sights he took you to. He adored how you were filled with so much curiosity and wonder, the awestruck look in your eyes when you saw the pretty lights at night and just how genuinely excited you seemed to stay and explore Mumbai. Since then, he's been glued to your side.

He's such a gentleman, you can tell he was raised right. Whenever you're talking his full attention is on you, nobody else matters in this moment but you. He'll even get a bit upset if someone cuts you off, ignoring whatever they're saying and urging you to continue. His legs feel wobbly around you, he gets dizzy at the sight of you, and he feels like he's floating whenever you smile at him.

There have been multiple occasions where you've caught him staring at you, depending on how he feels that day he'll either smirk and gently wave or quickly turn away with a blush on his face. He gushes about you to Hobie and Miles all of the time. They know so much about you and they've never even met you.

A true romantic. He buys you a singular flower one week out of the day, always explaining the meaning and where they originate from. (all of them are a variation of romance/love)

He tends to lean into you whenever you speak. More than one person has pointed out that you both tend to mirror each other's actions. He's feigning for your touch more than anything, a simple brush of your shoulders and he's full on putty in your hands.

He won't outright confront you when he figures out you like him, instead he'll invite you on a nightly walk. Taking you up to a rooftop with a gorgeous view, and gently resting his jacket on your shoulders. You'll sit for a while enjoying the scenery before he turns to you and says...

"a person as beautiful as yourself shouldn't wander this world alone.."

☆ . . . hobie brown

What a nightmare. He is constantly teasing and flirting with you. Always doubling over in laughter when he sees you get all flustered and the words you so badly wanna spew at him get stuck in your throat.

I imagine you both to be spider-people, you're a little more stuck-up than he is which is why he likes to tease you so much. Little by little your reactions fueled something deeper in him. He no-longer found himself flirting with you because he liked seeing how aggravated he could get you but because that was his way of approaching you and saying all of the things he wanted to while being able to play it off as a joke.

Besides teasing you relentlessly, he can be really caring and attentive to you when he wants to be. If you're in the medic he'll stop by pretty often to make sure you're okay. The only reason you found out is because you woke up to him fast asleep next to your bedside, feet propped on your bed and his vest laid across his torso like a blanket.

He'll eat the foods on your plate that you don't like. If you fall asleep he'll lay his vest onto your body and even move your position if it looks uncomfortable. If he senses danger before you he'll move you of the way as fast as he possibly can, but if he's not close enough he'll give you a heads up before anyone else. He tends to stare at you sometimes, always smiling gently to himself.

When you two get closer as friends he'll play any song on his guitar if you ask him nicely. He'll even give you lessons if you really want them. Carefully throwing his guitar over your torso, he brings his much larger hands to yours. You can feel his chest against your back, and the waves of his warm breath on your neck as he teaches you how to play. He'll also let you wear his jacket, saying it looks better on you than him. He might let you keep it, only in exchange for one of your jackets. (he sleeps with your jacket on, it makes him feel close to you.)

Hobie often checks up on you during missions, sometimes saying teasing phrases to get you riled up but mostly to make sure you're holding up okay. "you alright there, peaches? you took quite the hit."

Once he finds out you like him, he eases up on the teasing, but he doesn't refrain from dropping subtle hints of his knowingness that you like him. He's just waiting for you to finally say something.

"Yknow, if i ain't know any better i'd say you were doing this 'cause you like me."

☆ . . . miguel o' hara

You worked beside him in Alchemax, the two of you were assigned as partners. At first he didn't care much for you, simply telling you to stay out of his way and that he didn't need any help, but after Lyla practically forced him to be a cordial lab partner and work with you, he started to take a liking towards you. Sadly, it took months for him to tolerate you and even longer for him to like you.

Although he was quite stuck-up and practically seemed on edge most of the time, you were able to break through those confined walls and have a comfortable-playful work relationship with him. Every-time you made a joke or a light quip about his attitude he'd always respond with sarcasm, still not being able to hide the tiny smile that graced his face at your foolish acts.

He always runs his projects by you before submitting them. (and then lyla to triple check) He'll stop by and pick up empanadas from his favorite store, always boasting about how it's the best in Nueva York and you'll never taste anything better. Eventually he brings in a hefty share of empanadas that you two share over lunch time, your conversation flowing naturally without the teasing but with a fluffier feeling flowing through the air.

He pretends to be annoyed when he catches you over-working but he's genuinely worried for you. Always shaking his head in a disapproving way when he finds you fast asleep on your desk, papers scattered, and drool falling past your lips. Quietly scolding you in spanish before throwing his lab coat over your shoulders and organizing your papers neatly.

He tends to act unbothered when you do something that shows you care for him but in reality it makes his heart stutter and his stomach feel all loopy. He hates it because it makes him feel like a middle-schooler when they get their first crush but another part of him absolutely adores it and his main motivation to get up to go to work in the morning is you, although he'll never admit it.

If a co-worker is ever rude to you he will be the first to defend you, not hesitating to get in their face with a nasty scowl painting his features. On Friday's he made it his personal mission to walk you home, you two slowly walk side-by-side, quietly laughing to yourselves as you reminisce on lab accidents and old memories. There's a slight gleam in his eyes when you make it to your apartment door. He turns to you almost hesitantly, before stepping closer to you. He whispers a question, so quiet and soft you almost wouldn't be able to hear it.

"Can I kiss you?"

omg i hope you guys liked it! requests are still open btw and thank you for reading! <3

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33

#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #pavitr x reader #miles morales x reader #atsv gwen #gwen x reader #hobie brown x reader #atsv headcanons #spiderverse imagine #across the spider verse x reader #spiderman atsv imagines #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse headcanons #pavitr prabhakar x reader #miles morales headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv fluff #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader

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teapartyprincess4two · 1 year ago

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Parenthood- C. Sturniolo

pairing: Mom!reader x Dad!Chris

classification: SFW & NSFW head cannons

inspiration: request

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship, I didn’t name the children but Chris has 2 sons in this 👍🏻

summary: head cannons of Dad!Chris.

Parenthood- M. Sturniolo (Matt’s Version)

—

☆SFW

Fatherhood is something that scared Chris beyond belief, but when you broke the news to him he couldn’t contain his excitement. When your son was born, he fell in love immediately, and you both learned to navigate being parents. Then, when you were blessed with a second son, he was even happier.

☆ Chris cherishes every single memory, he’s really sappy about it all. He has a box full of pictures, baby socks, the wristbands from the hospital, everything.

☆ “Chris, some of this is trash,” you chuckle, filtering through the endless trinkets that all seemed to hold significance to him.

☆ “Our son’s first pair of socks isn’t trash, Y/n!” he snatches the box away from you, carefully placing everything back in.

☆ “Okay, but this dirty napkin?”

☆ “I wiped my tears with that. THANK YOU,” he snatches it from you, his sassy demeanor making you laugh.

☆ Chris loves spoiling his son, whether it be with toys and games, or with summer trips.

☆ He goes all out too, splurging on trips to Disney or to elaborate water parks, making sure to book the hotel and everything.

☆ “Babe, he’s 3. He won’t even remember this,” you chuckle, dragging luggage’s behind you.

☆ “Yes you will. Right, son?” Chris coos, bouncing the baby in his arms and blowing a raspberry into his neck. The baby giggles, the sound being music to Chris’s ears.

☆ The whole week it’s just you and Chris going on all the kiddy rides, snapping pictures of your son, and passing out back at the hotel.

☆ When you find out you’re pregnant with your second son, Chris does everything in his power to make your firstborn’s last months as an only child special.

☆ He takes him to the park, cuddles him to sleep every night, and showers that boy in so much love.

☆ Even though Chris is extremely high energy, being a working dad of two is very tiring.

☆ So, when the kids get older, he starts feeling comfortable taking ‘dad naps’ in random spots around the house.

☆ “Chris, babe, can you help me in here really quick?” you’re balancing a fussy baby on your hip, the other hand stirring whatever’s on the stove.

☆ You peer your head outside to see Chris knocked out on the hanging lounge chair. His chin rests on his chest, mouth open and arms crossed as small snores fall past his lips.

☆ Your oldest son holds a long piece of grass, tickling Chris’s nose with it. Your son whispers eerily,“Wake up daaaad. Wake uppppp.” You can’t help but giggle at the sight.

☆ Chris has successfully managed to cement his legacy as the ‘cool dad,’ or at least he thinks he has.

☆ He loves wearing funky graphic t-shirts when he’s chaperoning the kids, “I was young once too. I was the shit back then, kid.”

☆ Your oldest son just rolls his eyes playfully, but in reality he really looks up to Chris.

☆ Your youngest son loves dressing up like his dad, wearing his oversized t-shirts and beanies so big they fall past his eyes.

☆ “Look mom, I look like daddy!” he exclaims, accidentally tripping on the shirt as he runs towards you.

☆ Other times, Chris will throw on some sunglasses and try acting mysterious.

☆ The mysterious act doesn’t last long though, especially not when your youngest son cuddles up next to him for his afternoon nap or when your oldest starts asking for snack money.

☆ At family parties, Chris goes all out. He’s buying a bouncy house, cooking the burgers, renting an ice cream truck, and inviting all of his family.

☆ He loves playing games with his kids, usually forming teams and challenging them, “Alright me and Matt verses you two. Losers have to jump into the pool with their clothes on.”

☆ “Okay, but uncle Nick has to be on our team,” your oldest replies, fully confident in his ability to win his dad.

☆ Nick is then recruited, and surprisingly isn’t needed because your sons are completely obliterating Chris’s team.

☆ Chris isn’t a sore loser, it’s a trait he never wants to subconsciously pass down to his kids, so he’s jumping into the pool fully clothed as his kids watch in a fit of giggles.

☆ Laundry day is easily Chris’s most hated day, especially with two messy children.

☆ He’ll ‘help’ you fold clothes, which really means that he’s toying with the same shirt and flicking through Netflix.

☆ When the kids are asleep, you and Chris will treat yourself to some takeout because that’s the only time you can order food that the kids don’t usually like.

☆ You two are like little rats, hiding in the pantry munching before the kids hear you and wake up.

☆ One small creak and you’re both frantically hiding the food. “THEY’RE COMING!” he whisper shouts, but when no one opens the door you both fall into a fit of laughter at the dramatics.

☆ As your firstborn son gets older, he starts becoming snappy and somewhat rude, as teenagers often do.

☆ And although Chris doesn’t like reprimanding his kids for the smallest things, he can be stern when it’s necessary.

☆ “Watch your fucking mouth, kid. I don’t want to hear shit like that from you again. Go to bed.” Your son is hanging his head down and trudging to his room.

☆ “Don’t you think you were a little harsh on him?” you whisper, holding onto Chris’s arm gently.

☆ “My kids aren’t gonna be disrespectful, especially not to their momma,” he replies, but when he hears your son sniffling in his room the guilt begins chipping away at him.

☆ It doesn’t take Chris long after that to enter your sons room and engulf him in a hug, scolding him in a much softer manner that informs your son that what he did was still wrong, but also that Chris still loves him.

☆ Baseball, basketball, soccer, lacrosse, hockey, football; your sons are doing it all.

☆ Chris is in the stands, cheering so loud that his voice is hoarse by the end of the game. Even when his kid’s team doesn’t win, he’s still so incredibly proud of their performance.

☆ Chris reps the jerseys, attends the practices, and coaches his sons even when they’re at home, “Widen up your stance then throw!”

☆ Whenever there’s an opportunity to make his boys laugh, Chris is taking it.

☆ He picks them up from school wearing big, fake teeth while playing silly songs on the stereo.

☆ Your sons are never embarrassed, they just hold their sides and laugh uncontrollably, “Dad I’m gonna pee, stop!”

☆ He doesn’t spoil his kids, but he definitely buys them an unnecessary amount of things. It’s mostly harmless stuff like toys, games, and sugary snacks.

☆ “They don’t need any more toys, Chris,” you scold, struggling to make space for all of it.

☆ “We don’t need anything, Y/n,” he replies, his inner child going crazy.

☆NSFW

As parents, it can be hard for you and Chris to make time for each other. Your schedules are packed with school, practices, work, and the few free moments in between are used for household chores. But Chris always makes time for you no matter what.

☆ For the most part, you have to be sneaky. During birthday parties or family events, you take advantage of how distracted your kids are and sneak away into an empty room like teenagers.

☆ Your adrenaline is pumping, clumsy fingers undoing his belt as he kisses you feverishly.

☆ “We have to be quick,” you whisper, watching hungrily as he lines himself up with your entrance.

☆ He doesn’t respond, knees wobbling and his animalistic grunts filling the room as he pumps into you quickly.

☆ Chris doesn’t last long, which is slightly embarrassing, but the times you guys have sex are so few and far between that you can’t blame him.

☆ “Sorry,” he whimpers, pulling out and collapsing next to you. “Don’t be sorry,” you smirk, straddling his hips and getting yourself off as he becomes an overstimulated mess.

☆ On date night Chris books a night at a nearby hotel, dropping the kids off with his parents and telling you to get all dolled up.

☆ He dresses up too, meeting you at the hotel bar and flirting with you like it’s his first time meeting you.

☆ “Hey beautiful, come around here often?”

☆ You play along, the butterflies swarming in your stomach despite sharing an entire life with this man, “I do. Never seen a man as handsome as you here before, though.”

☆ A few champagne glasses later, you’re both giddily walking back to the hotel room and making love under the soft lamp light.

☆ Some random mornings, he wakes up fully bricked and no matter how hard he tries to will the erection away it just won’t subside.

☆ “Y/n, baby, are you awake?” he murmurs, pressing soft, sloppy kisses on your exposed shoulders.

☆ You stir awake, a soft yawn escaping your lips as you reply, “I’m awake.”

☆ He pulls you in closer, his erection pressing against the back of your thigh.

☆ “Need some help there?” you chuckle, immediately understanding his intentions. He hums in response, letting you take over as he watches in a lazy haze.

☆ “So beautiful,” he moans, hands caressing and massaging every inch of your body. You can’t help but blush, hiding yourself in the crook of his neck.

☆ “Look at me,” he instructs, he doesn’t want to miss out on a single thing.

☆ “I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” his lips are latched to yours, an overwhelming feeling of love overtaking him as he blows his load inside of you.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: meow 😋 dad Chris anyone? 🎤

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

1K notes · View notes

gpcwsl · 19 days ago

Text

Leah Williamson x Reader

Hey, rockstar!

WC: 4.2k+

MasterList

Warnings: kissing, teasing, mentions of death (brief, kinda), very long.

Song: I found you - Alabama Shakes

It was a crisp January morning in London, the air sharp with winter’s bite. The Arsenal Women’s squad had returned from the break, with the transfer window officially closed. Among their newest additions was Y/N Y/L/N, a 25-year-old Australian signing that had come with high expectations.

You were still settling in, getting used to the cold weather and the rhythm of a new club. Wanting to make a good impression, you had arrived early for training, hoping for some quiet before the rest of the squad trickled in.

Dressed comfortably in an oversized black hoodie with the Arsenal crest embroidered on the chest, baggy grey sweatpants, and a pair of well-worn black Converse, you looked effortlessly relaxed. A silver chain peeked out from under your hoodie, glinting in the soft lounge lighting. Your dark brown wavy hair was slightly messy, curling at the ends as it framed your hazel-brown eyes. You had a ring or two on your fingers, one of them spinning absentmindedly as you settled onto one of the couches.

Placing your foot on the coffee table in front of you, you propped your guitar up on your thigh. It was an old acoustic—scratched and well-loved. Letting out a breath, your fingers skimmed over the strings before you began strumming the opening chords of a song.

“Can you see me? ‘Cause I’m right here,”

“Can you listen? ‘Cause I’ve been tryin’ to make you notice,”

“What it would mean to me,”

“To feel like somebody…,”

Your voice was smooth, rich yet soft, carrying through the empty lounge. You weren’t just playing—you were lost in it, each note sinking into your chest like second nature.

What you didn’t realize was that you weren’t alone.

Leah Williamson had arrived early too. She’d come through the doors expecting silence, maybe a quick coffee before training. What she didn’t expect was the warm, mellow voice filling the space. Stopping in her tracks, Leah’s eyes locked onto the figure on the couch.

You, completely unaware of your audience, were lost in the music, your fingers dancing effortlessly along the frets. Leah leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms, letting herself listen. There was something about the way you sang—like you meant every word. It was different from the usual dressing room chaos, different from hearing someone sing along to the radio. It was raw. Real.

And then there was you yourself. The hoodie slightly oversized on your frame, the way you absentmindedly bit your bottom lip between verses, the way your fingers plucked the strings with a confidence that told Leah this wasn’t a hobby—it was a part of you.

Leah found herself smirking slightly. Talented and attractive. Interesting.

As you sang the last words, letting the final chord ring out, you finally glanced up—only to see Leah standing there, watching you.

Your heart stuttered. “Shit,” you muttered under your breath, sitting up straighter.

Leah chuckled. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You—how long were you standing there?” you asked, shifting awkwardly.

Leah pushed off the doorframe, stepping further into the room. “Long enough.”

You felt your face heat up. You��d expected to come in, play a little, and go unnoticed. But here was Leah Williamson—England captain, Arsenal legend—watching you with an amused expression.

“You’re good,” Leah said casually, nodding towards the guitar. “Didn’t take you for a musician.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the way your heart was still racing. “Just something I do on the side.”

Leah smirked. “Well, you might want to be careful playing like that around here. Some of us tend to arrive early too.”

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “Noted.”

Leah gave you a wink before walking past, leaving you sitting there, gripping your guitar a little tighter.

You hadn’t even been at the club a week, and somehow, you’d already caught Leah Williamson’s attention.

Training was in full swing. The crisp January air did little to cool the intensity of the session as the team moved through drills, preparing for their next match. You had settled in well so far, blending into the squad, but there was still the unspoken pressure of proving yourself. New signings always had something to prove.

Now, you were lined up for set-piece drills, standing just outside the box, waiting for the ball to be whipped in. You steadied your breath, focusing on the movement in front of you, watching as the ball was sent into the air. You took a step forward, preparing to time your jump—

And then a hand landed lightly on your waist.

You stiffened for a second as the warmth pressed against you, and then you felt the slight pull from behind. A voice, low and teasing, brushed against your ear.

“Let’s see how good you are at this… better than singing, yeah?”

Your breath hitched, your grip tightening into fists at your sides as you turned slightly, catching Leah Williamson’s smirking face beside you. She was standing close—too close. The scent of her lingering cologne mixed with the fresh air, and the way her fingers ghosted over your waist sent an involuntary shiver up your spine.

Before you could even react, she leaned in just a little more, voice softer this time.

“You still look pretty playing on the field… just like behind a guitar.”

Your focus wavered. Just for a second. The ball was coming in, but for a brief moment, all you could think about was the way Leah’s breath tickled your skin, the way her presence wrapped around you so effortlessly.

Then, as quickly as it happened, you snapped out of it.

Shoving her lightly off you, you pushed forward, planting your feet and timing your jump perfectly. Your head met the ball cleanly, sending it straight into the top corner of the net. The sound of it hitting the back of the goal was satisfying, and when you landed, you heard the sharp whistle of approval.

“Good job, Y/N!”

You turned to see Rénne Slegers, Arsenal’s manager, watching you with a satisfied smile. Her arms were crossed, her expression pleased—not just because you won the header, but because you hadn’t let yourself get distracted.

As you jogged back to your position, you caught Leah watching you, that familiar smirk still tugging at the corner of her lips. But this time, there was something else there. Something… proud.

“Not bad,” Leah said, nodding slightly.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past her with a small smirk of your own. “Told you I wasn’t just a musician.”

Leah chuckled, jogging after you. “Guess I’ll have to keep testing that, then.”

Something told you that wouldn’t be the last time she tried to distract you.

Training had ended, and the sun was beginning to dip behind the training ground buildings, casting long shadows across the fields. You had worked hard, and despite Leah’s teasing distractions, you had proven yourself. The praise from Rénne Slegers still echoed in your head as you made your way through the corridors, the adrenaline of the session finally starting to wear off.

You walked into the lounge room, expecting the usual post-training silence, maybe a chance to grab your things and unwind for a moment.

But as soon as you opened the door, a familiar sound filled the air.

Strumming.

Your guitar.

Your eyes immediately landed on the figure sitting casually on the couch, legs stretched out, fingers effortlessly plucking at the strings of your old acoustic. Leah Williamson.

She looked up at you, that damn smirk already in place. “Oh, hey, rockstar.”

Your jaw clenched. “Leah.”

Her fingers stilled slightly, but she didn’t stop completely. Instead, she let out a playful hum before strumming again. “Gotta say, she’s got a nice sound. No wonder you sounded good earlier.”

You marched forward, irritation bubbling under your skin. “Get off my guitar.”

Leah grinned but didn’t move. Instead, she strummed again, this time actually singing along. And to your dismay… she was good. Really good.

“Can you see me? ‘Cause I’m right here…”

Your eyes widened slightly. Was she seriously singing your song from earlier? Mocking you?

You lunged forward, but Leah was quick. She jumped to her feet, still holding the guitar, stepping back with a laugh. “Relax, Y/N, I’m just borrowing it.”

“Give it back,” you demanded, stepping closer.

Leah grinned, taking another step away, still strumming. “You chase everyone who touches your stuff, or just me?”

“Leah—”

She laughed, trying to step around the coffee table, but you were faster. You grabbed her by the hoodie, yanking her back toward the couch. Leah stumbled, losing balance as you pushed her down onto the cushions. Before she could move again, you snatched the guitar from her grip.

You quickly checked it over, your fingers running along the wood, making sure nothing was scratched, nothing was broken. You turned it over in your hands, checking every part.

Leah sat up, watching you with a curious expression. “Y/N, I didn’t do anything to it.”

You ignored her, running your fingers along the fretboard, double-checking. Only when you were completely sure it was fine did you let out a breath, gripping it tightly in your lap.

Leah tilted her head. “Seriously, I was careful.”

You swallowed hard before muttering, “It was my mum’s.”

Leah’s smirk faded.

You kept your eyes on the guitar, fingers gripping the edges a little tighter. “It’s the only thing I have left of her,” you added, quieter this time.

Silence settled between you both.

Leah’s playful demeanor shifted, her smirk replaced with something softer, something more understanding. “I didn’t know,” she said, her voice quieter now.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Yeah, well. Now you do.”

Leah watched you for a moment, then gave a small nod. “I’ll leave you and the guitar alone, then.”

You finally glanced up, meeting her gaze. She wasn’t smirking anymore. She looked… sincere.

You nodded slightly before looking away, shifting the guitar back onto your lap. “Good.”

Leah didn’t push, didn’t tease. Instead, she simply stood up, stretching slightly.

But before she left, she gave you one last glance. “For what it’s worth… she’d probably be proud of how good you are.”

And with that, she walked out, leaving you sitting there with your guitar still clutched tightly in your hands.

The next morning, you walked into the training ground with your guitar case slung over your back, your grip on it noticeably tighter than usual. After yesterday, you weren’t taking any chances.

Leah hadn’t meant any harm, but it still stung. That guitar wasn’t just an instrument to you—it was the last piece of your mum you had left. And having someone else’s hands on it, even if it was Leah Williamson, had sent your emotions spiraling.

As you made your way toward the changing rooms, fully prepared to put yesterday behind you, an arm suddenly reached out, grabbing you by the sleeve. Before you could react, you were pulled to the side—straight into the lounge room.

The door clicked softly behind you, and when you turned, Leah was standing there, a small, almost hesitant smile on her face.

“Leah, what the hell?” you muttered, shifting the guitar case on your shoulder.

Leah raised her hands slightly in surrender. “Relax. I just—” She exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck before motioning toward your guitar case. “Can I?”

Your grip tightened automatically. “Only if you’re careful,” you said firmly.

Leah nodded, taking it gently from your hands and setting it down on the couch with an almost exaggerated delicacy. “See? Careful.”

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want, Leah?”

She hesitated for a second before shoving her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. “I wanted to say sorry. About yesterday.”

You studied her, a little surprised. You hadn’t expected her to bring it up again.

Leah rocked on her heels slightly, glancing down before looking back up at you. “I didn’t know how much it meant to you. I should’ve realized—I mean, it was obvious when you practically tackled me to get it back.” A small smirk flickered across her face before fading again. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

You crossed your arms, shifting your weight. “It’s fine. Just don’t do it again.”

Leah nodded, but there was something else in her expression—something lingering. Then, with a casualness that felt almost forced, she said, “Let me make it up to you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How?”

Leah’s smirk returned, but this time, it was softer. “Come out with me. Tonight.”

Your heart stuttered slightly, but you kept your expression neutral. “Like… a date?”

Leah shrugged, playing it cool. “Nah, just a ‘sorry.’” But the glint in her eyes told you otherwise.

You let the silence stretch for a beat longer than necessary, watching the way she shifted slightly under your gaze. Then, finally, you sighed.

“Alright,” you said, pretending to be reluctant. “But if this is actually a date, I’m making you pay.”

Leah’s smirk grew. “Deal.”

And with that, she grabbed your guitar case from the couch, holding it out for you with extra care. You took it, shaking your head slightly as you walked past her.

Leah Williamson had just asked you out. Well—just a sorry, as she put it.

But deep down, you both knew the truth.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of training, recovery sessions, and the occasional Hey, rockstar from Leah every time she passed you.

At first, you’d rolled your eyes, brushing it off as just another one of her teasing habits. But as the day went on, you caught yourself waiting for it—anticipating the smirk that always came with it.

By the time the evening rolled around, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror, adjusting your hoodie and brushing a hand through your hair as if you weren’t about to spend the night with Leah Williamson.

It wasn’t a date. Just a sorry.

You repeated it in your head, but deep down, the nervous energy twisting in your stomach knew better.

Then, a knock at the door.

Taking a steadying breath, you opened it—only to be met with Leah’s signature smirk and an outfit that somehow made your breath catch in your throat.

She had opted for casual-comfy, but somehow, she still managed to make it look effortlessly good. She wore an oversized grey Essentials hoodie, the sleeves slightly pushed up to reveal her forearms. A pair of well-fitted black joggers sat low on her hips, tucked slightly into white Nike Air Forces, looking perfectly broken in. A small silver ring adorned her right index finger, and a simple chain peeked out from beneath her hoodie. Over her shoulder, she carried a black Nike backpack, the strap hanging loosely in that relaxed way only she could pull off.

Her hair was slightly messy, the kind of messy that looked unintentional but perfect all the same. And when she smiled—soft this time, not teasing—your stomach flipped.

“Hey, rockstar,” she murmured.

You huffed out a small laugh, stepping aside. “You gonna keep calling me that?”

Leah shrugged, stepping in past you. “Suits you.”

You closed the door behind her, turning back—only to find her already rummaging through her backpack.

“I got something for you,” she said, pulling out a small box and holding it out toward you.

You blinked, hesitating slightly before taking it. The box was light in your hands, simple but carefully wrapped. You glanced up at her, eyebrow raised. “Leah—”

“Just open it,” she said, her tone softer than usual.

Curiosity won over, and you carefully pulled at the wrapping before lifting the lid.

Inside, nestled against black velvet, was a delicate silver necklace. A small, finely detailed guitar charm hung from the chain, catching the dim lighting of your apartment.

Your breath hitched.

For a moment, you just stared at it, fingers running lightly over the charm. “Leah…”

“I figured,” Leah said, shifting slightly, “since your guitar means so much to you, you should have something you can keep with you all the time.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, your fingers tightening slightly around the box.

Leah stepped closer, voice quieter now. “Want me to put it on?”

You hesitated, then nodded.

Turning around, you lifted your hair, exposing the back of your neck. You felt Leah move behind you, the warmth of her body so close it sent a shiver down your spine.

She was slow, careful, as she unclasped the necklace and draped it around your neck. The cool metal met your skin first, followed immediately by the warmth of Leah’s fingers as they brushed against you. Her touch was light—almost too light, like she was testing the waters, gauging your reaction.

You held your breath as she fastened the clasp, her fingers lingering for just a second too long.

And then—before you could even register it—her lips pressed a feather-light kiss against the side of your neck.

A shiver ran through you, your hands gripping the front of your hoodie as every nerve in your body came alive. Leah stayed there for a second longer than necessary, close enough that you could feel the ghost of her breath against your skin.

Then, just as smoothly as she had come in, she pulled away.

The air felt charged, the tension so thick you could almost touch it. You turned slowly, heart hammering against your ribs as you met her gaze.

Leah was watching you, something unreadable in her expression—something deeper than her usual teasing smirk.

“You good?” she asked, voice lower than before.

You swallowed, nodding once.

She smiled, reaching out to lightly tug the charm of the necklace. “Looks good on you, rockstar.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

For now.

The night had passed in a blur of laughter, conversation, and the occasional lingering glance. Leah had been easier to talk to than you expected—casual, laid-back, effortlessly charming. And maybe, just maybe, you had let your guard down a little.

Now, as she walked you back to your place, her hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie, you found yourself hesitating at the door.

You weren’t ready for the night to end.

“You wanna come in?” you asked, keeping your voice as nonchalant as possible.

Leah’s smirk was immediate, but there was something softer beneath it. “Obviously.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you pushed the door open. She stepped in behind you, and the warmth of her presence filled the space instantly.

“I was thinking of ordering takeout,” you said, toeing off your shoes. “You want something?”

Leah leaned against the wall, tilting her head slightly. “Depends. What’s on the menu?”

You pulled out your phone, already scrolling through options. “Pizza?”

Leah grinned. “Solid choice, rockstar.”

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, you placed the order, tossing your phone onto the counter before heading into the kitchen to grab some plates. Leah followed, perching herself on the counter like she belonged there.

She watched as you moved, her gaze lingering a little too long when you turned to grab the forks and knives from the drawer.

The moment your back was to her, she moved.

You barely had time to react before Leah’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, her body pressing into yours. Her voice was low, right against your ear.

“You looked good tonight,” she murmured.

Your breath hitched.

Leah took full advantage, her lips brushing lightly against the side of your neck—soft, teasing. Her hands splayed across your stomach, holding you in place.

“You’re bold,” you muttered, forcing your voice to stay steady.

Leah hummed in amusement, her lips barely ghosting against your skin. “You like it.”

You hated how your body reacted to her—how easily she got under your skin. Slowly, you turned in her hold, facing her. Leah didn’t move back. If anything, she leaned in closer, her eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes like she was already planning her next move.

And then—

The doorbell rang.

You blinked.

Leah blinked.

Then, with a sharp breath, you pushed her away. “That’s the food.”

Leah sighed dramatically, rocking back on her heels. “Terrible timing.”

Ignoring the way your heart was pounding, you cleared your throat, straightening your hoodie before heading to the door.

As you pulled it open and exchanged cash for the takeaway bags, you could still feel Leah’s gaze burning into you from behind.

This night was far from over.

The soft hum of music filled the room as you and Leah sat across from each other at the dining table. The plates were now empty, the meal long finished, but there was still a quiet energy between you. The conversation had ebbed, leaving behind a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the background music and the sound of you both cleaning up.

You stood up from the table, gathering the dirty dishes, and made your way to the kitchen. Leah stayed where she was for a moment, watching you with a quiet intensity, before following you in.

As you began washing the dishes, the familiar motion of scrubbing and rinsing gave you a sense of peace. The water was warm, the rhythmic sound of the sponge against the plates grounding you.

The song changed, and Play Pretend by Alex Sampson started to play softly in the background. The gentle strumming of the guitar combined with the soothing lyrics, and before you knew it, you found yourself softly singing along. You weren’t trying to, but the lyrics just slipped out, natural and effortless. It wasn’t loud—just a quiet hum as you moved around the kitchen, more focused on the task at hand than on the words coming out of your mouth.

What you didn’t notice was Leah watching you, her expression softening as she listened. The vulnerability in your voice caught her off guard. You hadn’t even meant for her to hear it, but she did—and something about it made her heart skip a beat.

Leah remained silent, the tension building between you two without a single word spoken. Her eyes never left you. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile, but there was something else there too—something more intense, more determined.

The song played on, and as you finished washing the last dish, Leah slowly got up. She moved toward you with purpose, stepping quietly so you wouldn’t notice until she was right behind you.

You didn’t have time to react before she gently took the dish from your hands and set it aside. You froze, her body so close to yours now that you could feel the warmth radiating off her. Leah’s fingers gently cupped your face, her touch surprisingly tender as she turned you toward her.

For a moment, everything went still. Her breath was warm against your skin, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver through your body.

“Can I?” Leah asked, her voice low, almost hesitant, but the sincerity in her tone was unmistakable.

You nodded without thinking, your heart racing as you stared up at her. The space between you two was so small now, the air thick with anticipation. Without another word, Leah leaned in.

Her lips brushed against yours softly at first, testing, as if she were waiting for you to pull back. When you didn’t, she deepened the kiss, her hands sliding to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss was slow, deliberate, each movement filled with a quiet urgency. You could feel her breath, warm and steady, against your lips as she kissed you again—deeper this time, with more confidence.

Her hands moved to your back, fingers splaying across the fabric of your shirt as if she wanted to pull you even closer, to feel you pressed against her more fully. The kiss was sweet at first, but the longer it lasted, the more the tension between you two built. You felt the weight of it, the spark that had been there all night, now igniting with every second.

Leah’s lips were soft but insistent, the kiss growing more passionate as you both gave in to it. For a moment, you forgot about everything else—the dishes, the music, the world outside. All that mattered was the way Leah held you, the way she kissed you with a hunger that had been building for far too long.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you were left breathless. Leah’s forehead rested against yours, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

Her voice was quiet, but you heard the smile in her words. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you simply smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. You couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had felt so right.

The music played softly in the background, but it felt like nothing could interrupt the quiet, lingering moment between the two of you.

You had no idea what came next, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.

153 notes · View notes

starsinthesky5 · 2 months ago

Note

What was Joe’s reaction to hearing call it what you want for the first time?

call it what you want (yail’s version) || joe burrow x reader

description: the ask pretty much sums it up!!

a/n: this is so fun for me im screaming

word count: 2.2k

warnings: none. just my sickeningly adorable babies

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyburrrow @joeyb1989 @softburrow @yelenasbraid @burrowbarbie @lovelyburrow @starkeyswomen @grittysbiggestfan @lilfreakjez @fourburrow @definitelynotdomanique

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

joe was absolutely wrecked. like i'm talking tears pooling in his eyes by the end of it, a rosy blush on his cheeks, and his heart nearly beating out of his chest and onto the floor in front of him.

i mean, his heart was already racing by the time she strummed the first few chords. he didn’t know what to expect, but he was already completely captivated by the way she looked so normal sitting on the floor of his living room—her messy hair in a bun, wearing one of his oversized hoodies LSU hoodies, and a pair of sweatpants that had seen better days. they were sitting there together, legs tangled together, the low light of the room casting a warm glow over them. she had her guitar in hand, her eyes glancing at him with a mix of affection and a little bit of nervousness.

he could tell she was about to share something important with him, and his heart fluttered with anticipation. this was the very first song she had written & recorded for her newest album, and the very first song joe had heard from her since they had been together. sure he had heard her sing to him on plenty of occasions--late at night before bed, in the car, while cooking, in the shower--but he had never heard one of her newest songs.

everything about this moment was special, from how relaxed the setting was to how she was about to serenade joe with the most lovey love song she had ever written while a late november storm raged outside. her favorite weather, with her favorite person, just as she was about to sing her favorite song to date.

when she started singing, the first line, “my castle crumbled overnight,” hit him in straight in the gut. her voice was soft, melodic as always, and maybe even a little shaky. as if the mere mention of her past was enough to tug at the seams of wounds he had worked so tirelessly to stitch back together, threatening to crack what he had so gently mended.

"i brought a knife to a gunfight, they took the crown, but it's alright. all the liars are calling me one, nobody's heard from me for months, i'm doing better than I ever was,,"

he knew exactly what she meant with the opening verse; the lyrics were a metaphor for how her entire world had collapsed in the blink of an eye...how they broke her in her most vulnerable state. she disappeared once the walls started to cave in, leaving no trace of her being behind as she hid in those dark clouds that she was running from. she had been stripped bare, torn apart by the same people who once sang her praises, left to piece herself back together in silence. they had taken everything—her peace, her trust, her sense of self, her love—and twisted it into something unrecognizable.

but then came him.

the man who loved her even when she didn't even know what love was anymore. who loved everything she came with--the baggage, the scars--and never once made her feel like she was something broken, something discarded.

and so the next verse was the one that really got him.

"'cause my baby's fit like a daydream, walkin' with his head down, i'm the one he's walkin' to. so call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to. my baby's fly like a jet stream, high above the whole scene, loves me like I'm brand new. so call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to,".

those words hit him hard, and for a moment, he just sat there, letting them sink in, his blue eyes darkening, pupils blown wide as he stared at her, completely entranced.

this was so him. she was singing about him—about the way he was, the way he came into her life like a calm breeze, so nonchalant and steady. it was his whole vibe. walking with his head down, so easygoing, never one to stir up drama or chaos because he was above that. he wasn’t the loud, attention-grabbing type. he just…was. and somehow, in the midst of everything that had been going on in her life, he had quietly, steadily become her everything.

in the next verse, these lyrics stuck out to him.

"all the drama queens taking swings, all the jokers dressin' up as kings, they fade to nothin' when I look at him,".

to her, none of that noise mattered when she was with him. the world could be burning, people could be scheming, twisting her name into something ugly, but when she looked at him? it all faded to nothing. because joe wasn’t just someone she loved--he was the only thing in her world that ever felt real, steady, untouchable.

he exhaled a shaky breath, his eyes locked on her like she was the only thing in existence. because to him, she was.

then she sang,

"and i know i make the same mistakes every time bridges burn, i never learn, at least i did one thing right i did one thing right i’m laughin’ with my lover, makin’ forts under covers trust him like a brother, yeah, you know i did one thing right starry eyes sparkin’ up my darkest night,".

joe felt his chest tighten, his heart pounding even harder as he took in every word. his fingers curled slightly against his knee, overwhelmed by the weight of what she was saying--what she was telling him.

she had been through hell. had made mistakes, had trusted the wrong people, had watched everything she had built crumble in front of her. but somehow, in the middle of all that chaos, she had found him. chosen him.

he thought about every late night they had spent tangled in sheets, whispering secrets under the glow of a bedside lamp. about the stupid inside jokes, the way she could make him laugh until his stomach hurt, the way he held her through the nights when the past still clawed at her like an open wound.

"at least i did one thing right,".

god. if she only knew how much that meant to him.

his eyes were burning now, and he had to blink a few times to keep himself from completely falling apart. because he was the one thing she was sure of. he was the light in her darkest night.

and as she strummed the last few chords before continuing on to the bridge, he mouthed it to her, barely even realizing he was doing it--

"i love you."

her fingers faltered against the strings for just a second. her breath hitched as she stopped singing for a second. and then she smiled, so soft and so full of love that he swore he could feel it in his bones.

as she continued on to the bridge of the song, fingers strumming the guitar with practiced ease, the lyrics felt like they were speaking directly to him yet again.

"i want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck, not because he owns me, but 'cause he really knows me. which is more than they can say, i recall late november, holdin' my breath, slowly I said, "you don't need to save me, but would you run away with me?". yes,".

as she sang those words, joe's eyes instinctively dropped to the delicate chain around her neck—the one that held his initial, resting right against her heart. he had seen her wear it every day, had traced his fingers over it absentmindedly when they lay in bed, but hearing her sing about it, about him, made his chest ache in the best way.

"not because he owns me, but 'cause he really knows me."

that stuck out to him the most.

his jaw clenched slightly, emotion swelling in his throat. god, she got him. she really got him. he had never been the loudest person in the room, never one to stake his claim or demand attention. and yet, she had made it clear--he didn’t have to. he wasn’t with her to prove something to the world. he was with her because he knew her, because he saw her for exactly who she was, and somehow, that was enough.

"which is more than they can say."

he knew what she meant--how so many people had claimed to know her, to love her, but none of them ever really had. not the way he did. not the way she let him in.

and then came the part that ruined him.

"i recall late november, holdin’ my breath, slowly i said, 'you don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me?'".

he could picture it so clearly—the early days, when she was still hesitant, still finding her way back to herself. how she had looked at him one night, the weight of everything pressing on her, and asked, "would you run away with me?"--half a joke, half a plea.

and he had said yes. without hesitation. every time.

because he hadn’t saved her. he never wanted to save her. he just wanted to be there, to hold her hand as she saved herself.

and sitting here now, listening to her sing those words back to him, for him--he realized she knew that. she had always known.

his throat tightened, his eyes stung, but he didn’t care. because as soon as the last note hung in the air, he reached for her, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against her cheek as he whispered, voice thick with emotion--"i would run anywhere with you,".

she saw the blush rise on his cheeks, the way his eyes were slowly softening from realization and brimming with tears. she nearly started crying on her own. but not from sadness, but rather out of love. he loved her so much, loved her in a way she had never experienced.

as the last note faded into the quiet hum of their living room, she let out a slow breath, her fingers still resting on the strings of her guitar. she was almost afraid to look up at him, to see just how deeply the song had affected him. but she didn’t have to look—she could feel it.

joe was silent, completely still except for the steady rise and fall of his chest. when she finally lifted her eyes to meet his, what she saw made her heart stutter. his lips were slightly parted, his blue eyes glassy, swirling with emotions so intense she could feel them in the air between them.

“baby,” he finally whispered, shaking his head like he didn’t even know where to begin. he reached for her immediately, gently taking the guitar from her hands and setting it aside before pulling her into his lap. his arms wrapped around her so tightly it was like he was afraid she’d slip away if he let go.

she melted into him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck as he buried his fingers in her hair, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“you wrote that about me?” his voice was barely above a whisper, like he still couldn’t believe it.

she smiled against his skin, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “of course i did. every word,”.

he exhaled shakily, pulling back just enough to cup her face in his hands. his thumbs brushed over her cheeks, his touch impossibly gentle as he looked at her like she had just given him the entire universe.

“you don’t know what that does to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “hearing you sing about me like that. hearing how you see me, how much you—," he cut himself off, swallowing hard before pressing his forehead against hers. “god, i love you,".

her heart swelled, her hands finding his wrists as she leaned into his warmth. “i love you too,” she whispered, closing her eyes as he kissed her—soft and slow, like he had all the time in the world to show her just how much he meant it.

when he pulled away, he rested his nose against hers, his fingers trailing down to toy with the chain around her neck. he rubbed the small pendant between his fingers, his expression impossibly tender. “you really wear this for me?”

she nodded, her fingers curling in the fabric of his hoodie. “yeah. because you really know me. and well, it is your initial, goofball,”.

joe let out a soft, disbelieving laugh before shaking his head. “you’re gonna kill me, sweetheart. you know that?”.

she giggled, and he kissed her again, this time all over—her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. “my sweet girl,” he murmured between kisses, “my perfect, perfect girl. this song was amazing. you are fucking amazing. thank you for feeling comfortable enough to share this with me,”.

she blushed, burying herself further into his arms, and he just held her, rocking them slightly as if to remind her—she was safe. she was his. and he wasn’t going anywhere.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #yail #yail asks

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running-with-kn1ves · 11 months ago

Text

Faeries and Giants

A/N: Thanks that one anon for this idea! took my own spin on it >:DD

Content Warning: Held hostage by a giant, mentioned consumption of humanoid creatures, kidnapping

Synopsis: Life isn’t all great being a faerie in a world of giants, elves and dwarves-- of which, some are keen on plucking you from the forest floor like a berry and keeping you to themselves.

“So… delicate,” plump fingers outlined the crisp glass of your wings, their luminescence almost blinding to the giant. Your teensy, human-like frailty was some sort of evolutionary mistake-- how could you survive in these woods for so many decades, for centuries? You and your kind were mini parasites-- although delicious, and cute to play with, ultimately not meant to survive in this world where big bad wolves and giants ten times your size could pick you up like an acorn and snap you like a tall blade of grass.

“Get your dirty paws-- OFF!” You kicked and bit with feral haste, clothes of leaf and twine breaking each time the giant poked and prodded at your pudgy, elongated features. One wrong tug and your arm or leg could come twisting off, your wings tarnished and ripped to fragments if he so pleased.

“Settle down now, little one,” He let out a roar of a laugh, shaking down through his palms to his feet, making the earth beneath him crumble. “You’ll get hurt worming around so much!”

You shrieked at the gentle touch against your bare sole, the giant playing with your toes and fingers as he stretches and bends your limbs.

“Please--urk, put me down! I’m not meant to be this high, I, I need to get back to the ground-- let me go!”

“Ah, but aren’t you meant for the skies, little beast? What else are these… appendages for. Mere sparkly decoration?”

He runs a finger down the middle of your back, touching the sinewy fiber connecting translucent wings to your spine. You shivered, physically jolting at the uncomfortable, warmly touch.

Your wings were drenched-- wrinkled and sopping from the “quick dip” the giant holding you thought would be a good idea before scooping you up like a pretty pebble. His previous…encounters with your kind must’ve prepared him well for the fluttery agility your poor wings could provide.

“Hm, do you like that?” The giant groans in heightened interest, resting his cheek in his hand as he holds you in the other. “The fairies I’ve met are far less dainty, withholding far more… animosity. Of course, they had been well-versed in magic and spells moreso than you seem to be. Far more appetizing, too. But you… you almost look like a stout sapling, useless in all endeavors besides your adorable little figure!”

….Appetizing?

Looking to the Giant’s pocket, you can see them there….Wings, some crumped to shards, others merely bent, stuffed in his trousers with shimmering pinks and golds and blues-- cleanly picked off of whatever faerie they belonged to.

“You… they’ve been disappearing, because of you! Collecting their poor wings…You’re a monster! My friends, eaten and killed--!”

The giant brought you to his eyes for closer inspection, pools of lake green beneath his moppy silvering and unkempt hair. He observed the river of tears falling from your face, your nose dripping and stuffy as you beat against his hand.

“Why yes! We seem to agree on something; I am a monster of the forest-- as are you, and your thieving little fellow faeries. Stealing from my livestock, shoveling everything they can find into their mouths, attempting to poison and spitroast and maim me--” He brushes a tan knuckle against your cheek, smooshing it in an attempt to wipe away your tears. “And so I eat them-- which ever ones manage to cross me, choosing to arise my wrath. It’s the circle of life, my little winged beast.”

He chuckles at the nickname, gazing at you slumped over on the creases of his palm, calloused from a life of barreling trees and tending to his oversized farm on the outskirts of your fae hamlet.

You were too high to jump from his palm at this height, even with his fingers no longer tightly wound around you. If you tried to fly now-- you’d be as good as dead.

“S..so, what’re you gonna do, with me?”

You wipe away your tears, trying to see the giant clearly this time; maybe you could pinpoint a weak area of his, something to make him drop you-- it’d be better than spending eternity in his palm, or his stomach.

“So precious… What do you think? Should I eat you?” He grins, a large straw of wheat hanging from betwixt his lips.

You shake your head rapidly, attempting to reach for the dagger in your leather boot.

“No, no. Of course not, I can’t rid myself of such a cute fae like you, even if I despise the rest of your species--” He delicately takes his thumb and pointer finger to your cheeks, squeezing them to puff out your lips. “I enjoy your itsy-bitsy presence too much… perhaps I’ll keep you where the birds used to lay; the cage is quite spacious, right in the kitchen. I’ll make a soft bed of chicken feathers for you, a table just big enough to do your faerie crafts and harmless little spells on.” The giant smiles softly, touching the bare of your collar uncovered by leaf and leather cloth. “I’ll bring trinkets from the valley for you to do with as you please, cook hearty meals for us to share, even let you out to be coddled and touched every now and again-- how does that sound?”

You were quick to shake your head, tempted to stab at his palm with your dagger, but an irked expression ran across the giant’s lips as his gaze fell to the grassy plain beneath him.

“Your friend here however, will not be staying.” He holds you tightly again-- squeezing enough to keep you in the dark of his palm. It was warm and of an earthy smell, almost too tight for your cold body. You're abruptly tucked into the giants shirt pocket, a finger over your mouth and eyes that forced you into muted darkness.

Even with your fabricated blindness, you could here the breathy grunts of a familiar voice-- unmistakably from a woodland elf, the glass-shattering vocal chords of a creature who could burst ear drums if he so desired. You didn’t know for sure, but you had a reasonable guess of which elf in particular who seemed to be fighting a mountain of a giant in your honor. An unforgettable, certainly imbecilic ignoramus elf who tailed you everywhere you went in hopes that, this time you would accept his smitten betrothal request.

You swam against fabric tugging you downward to reach the shirt pocket’s opening, wincing as the giant holding you captive yelped out.

“Gah! he stabbed me, the little fucking imp!”

It's the first you've heard him curse with such venom, mouth curling into a snarl as he bends to pick up the wooden sword-swinging elf at his boot.

The elf screamed out your name, trying to cut at the scarred fingers holding him hostage. You reached out to him from beneath your pocket enclosure before the giant flicked you on the head, holding your savior far out by the tips of his fingers.

“Ah look here, your knight in shining armor… hah, too bad, he looks absolutely delectable.”

The giant’s irritation was growing by the second, keeping a hand over you in his pocket as he shakes the elf around furiously.

“No--! please don't eat him, he just-- Let us go, he has nothing to do with this!” You tug against the giant’s button up, watching your elf companion swing around his needle-like sword at the giant holding him up by his collar.

The giant laughed, eyes crinkling as his chiseled chest bumped against your back.

“Don't fret sweet faerie, I’m not so brutal as to consume a creature like this raw; by all means, he’s coming home with us. How long he lasts- that's up to you.”

The giant stood from his crouched position on the grassy knoll, heavy boots digging into the grass to make muddy imprints. He dangled the elf out forward, watching as the poor creature sweat bullets while looking at you helplessly.

“Let my faerie-- go!” The tiny voice felt so far away, different than the usually grating elf’s voice you were accustomed to getting frightened by.

The giant places his fingers into his shirt pocket, nudging you with them in a powerful caress.

“You'll remain my little darling-- while our elf friend here, remains where he belongs-- in the pigpen. Together, we can find a punishment suitable for him.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. With one heavy foot in front of the other, the giant started toward a thatched roof cabin in the grassy distance.

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insomniac4000 · 16 days ago

Note

I need a Chris Smut where’s he’s fuming about arsenal losing, he’s told to either go elsewhere or shut up and put his mouth to good use, he pulls the blanket of his gf to see her in just his shirt, he immediately puts that mouth to use

I'm still not that confident with smut but here we go

ChrisMD- Put your money where your mouth is

Y/N exhaled deeply as she sank into the plush embrace of the couch, muscles aching, eyelids heavy. A gruelling twelve-hour shift at the hospital had drained every ounce of energy from her body. The only thing keeping her upright at this point was the warmth of the blanket wrapped around her and the promise of a quiet night in with her boyfriend, Chris.

Chris, however, was anything but quiet.

"You have got to be kidding me!" His voice boomed through the living room, his hands flying up in frustration as he watched Arsenal concede a sloppy goal. "What are they doing? Defending like schoolboys! We’re actually a joke!"

Y/N groaned, shifting slightly to face him. "Chris, babe, I swear to God, if you don’t calm down, I'm going to have to ask you to take your little tantrum somewhere else."

Chris whipped his head around, scandalized. "Tantrum? This is justified outrage! Do you see this nonsense? Calafiori just left him unmarked! It’s criminal!"

"Uh-huh," she mumbled, letting her head fall back onto the cushion. They’d been together for five months now so Y/N was well versed in Chris’s spirit for the game, sure football wasn’t the be all and end all of his personality but sometimes he got really into it, Y/N dabbled but she wasn’t as big of a fan as Chris was. Especially when she had an incredibly tough day working and all she wanted to do was curl up and cuddle. It was hard when he spent the time gesturing and shouting in her ear, it was not helping her head ache at all. Soon the only sound was from the TV once again so Y/N closed her eyes once more, she was just about to lean over to her boyfriend and lay her head on his chest when…

“OH FOR FUCKS SAKE NO YOU IDIOT!” Chris screamed. Y/N opened her eyes and looked at Chris, her face was very visibly annoyed.

“Chris I told you I had a headache coming and that is NOT helping,” she scolded.

“I’m sorry but look at…”

"No. Either go elsewhere or shut up and put that mouth to good use."

Chris blinked, momentarily forgetting the game as he processed her words. His lips parted, then closed again, his eyebrows raising slightly. He turned fully toward her, curiosity piqued. "Put my mouth to good use, huh?"

She hummed in response, not opening her eyes, but the teasing lilt in her voice was unmistakable. "You heard me."

Chris smirked, eyes flickering down to the blanket covering her. He was about to make another sarcastic remark when a sudden thought crossed his mind. Without hesitation, he gripped the edge of the blanket and gave it a swift tug.

The sight beneath him had him momentarily stunned.

Y/N lay there, stretched out in nothing but one of his shirts—his old Arsenal one, oversized on her smaller frame, draping over her thighs but leaving plenty of skin exposed. The sight of her, legs on show, face free of makeup, his shirt barely covering her; it was enough to make him forget Arsenal was even playing.

A slow, devious grin crept across his face as he leaned in, bracing himself on one arm while his free hand ghosted over the bare skin of her thigh. "Well, well, well," he murmured, voice thick with amusement. "Look what we have here. No wonder you wanted me to shut up."

Y/N cracked one eye open, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Are you going to keep complaining about football, or are you going to do something about it?"

Chris let out a low chuckle, fingers tracing absent patterns on her skin. "You’re absolutely shameless."

"You love it."

"You’re not wrong." He leaned down, his lips brushing against her neck, leaving soft kisses along her skin. "You do realize, though, that now I’m entirely focused on you instead of Arsenal?"

She tilted her head slightly, giving him better access. "And that’s a bad thing?"

Chris smirked against her skin. "Not at all. Just saying, you’ve managed to accomplish the impossible; make me forget about football."

She laughed softly, fingers threading through his hair as his lips continued their slow, torturous path. "That’s a very big deal, coming from you."

"Huge," he murmured before finally capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss, his frustration from the match melting away entirely.

His hands roamed over her body, fingers mapping out every inch of exposed skin, savouring the way she reacted to his touch. The tension of the day drained from her muscles as she melted beneath him, her body moulding against his as if they were made for each other.

Chris took his time, pressing slow, deliberate kisses down her jawline, across her collarbone, lingering in places that made her sigh in contentment. The match was completely forgotten, background noise blending into nothing as he focused entirely on her.

Y/N let out a soft hum, her fingers playing with the short strands of his curled hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against her skin. "You’re much more useful like this."

Chris chuckled, his voice a low rumble. "You know, if you ask nicely, I might never watch football again."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Let’s not go that far. I don’t want to be responsible for Arsenal losing all their matches."

"They do that just fine without my help," he muttered, trailing his lips lower, revelling in the way she shivered at his touch.

“Please Chris,” she whispered as Chris’s kisses moved up her leg. He smirked beneath her skin.

“I love it when you beg,” Chris replied, the kisses going high up her thigh, his hands sweeping over her underwear in a very teasing fashion making her moan slightly. Spurred on by the side he grabbed her hips and pulled her down on the sofa properly she he could get better access, her pants were pulled down slowly as Chris started to kiss her thighs again.

“So beautiful,” Chris mumbled before he gently kissed her clit. His mouth was then replaced by his hand as he started to gently rub circles around. Y/N’s breath caught her throat as it always did and soon enough she felt Chris’s warm tongue enter her.

Y/N gripped the cushions tightly, any bad memories of the day and any trace of a headache was gone as she focused on the pure pleasure Chris’s mouth was giving her right now. His tongue dancing around; in and around her while one of his hands was still firmly stimulate her clit; he definitely knew how to please a woman.

Soon enough he was cleaning her up as she reach climax, both of their lips red and swollen.

It was no long after the match had ended and the house had fallen into a peaceful quiet, Y/N found herself curled up against his chest, fingers idly tracing patterns over his skin.

Chris let out a satisfied sigh, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of her head. "So, was that a better use of my time than complaining about football?"

Y/N smirked, lifting her head slightly to meet his gaze. "Much better. Maybe Arsenal losing isn’t such a bad thing after all."

Chris groaned. "Don’t even joke about that."

She laughed, nuzzling closer. "Fine, fine. But next time they lose, you know exactly what to do instead of yelling at the screen."

Chris smirked, pressing another kiss to her lips. "Oh, trust me. I’ve learned my lesson."

#chrismd #chris dixon

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nanamincreampie · 3 months ago

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Be My Baby

Nanami Kento x Black plus size reader

(I was kinda inspired by the song to do this)

It was one of those rare afternoons when Kento worked from home, his neatly organized desk covered with papers and spreadsheets. You had tiptoed around the house all morning, knowing how seriously he took his work. But the quiet was suffocating by lunchtime, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

Humming to yourself, you fiddled with your speaker, scrolling through your playlist until you found the perfect song. A smile spread across your face as the first notes began to play, the unmistakable rhythm of the drums echoing through the living room.

The night we met, I knew I needed you sooooo

The lyrics filled the air, and you couldn’t resist. Twirling around in your oversized t-shirt and shorts, you danced across the room, your curls bouncing as you sang along.

Kento, seated at the dining table just a few feet away, paused mid-typing. His brow furrowed, and he glanced over his shoulder, his gaze landing on you spinning like you didn’t have a care in the world.

And if I had the chance, I'd never let you go

Your voice was slightly off-key, but it didn’t matter. You clutched an invisible microphone in your hands, dramatically lip-syncing the next line.

So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me

“Y/N,” Kento called, his tone exasperated but soft.

You ignored him, swaying closer until you were right in front of him. With a playful grin, you grabbed his hand and tugged. “C’mon, Kento! Just one dance!”

“Absolutely not,” he replied, though the smallest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

We’ll make 'em turn their heads every place we go

As the beat picked up, you grabbed both his hands, encouraging him to sway with you. His movements were stiff at first, but as your giggles filled the air, Kento let himself relax.

“There you go!” you cheered, beaming up at him.

For a moment, he forgot about the spreadsheets and the endless emails waiting for him. Watching you laugh and spin, your joy lighting up the entire room, Kento couldn’t help but chuckle. He gave in, pulling you close and twirling you with surprising grace.

So won’t you please (Be my, be my baby) Be my little baby

You threw your head back against him, laughing and pointing your finger toward the ceiling in time with the lyrics. Kento chuckled low in his throat, a sound that made your stomach flip.

(My one and only baby) Say you’ll be my darling

As the song crooned on, you leaned into him fully, letting his strong arms steady you as you exaggerated your hip sways, laughing each time he grumbled about being dragged into your “antics.”

(Be my, be my baby) Be my baby now

By the time the second verse began, you were twirling away from him again, clapping and dramatically acting out every word.

I’ll make you happy, baby, just wait and see

You paused mid-step, turning toward him with your hands on your hips and a playful pout. “C’mon, Kento, I know you wanna sing this part with me!”

Kento raised a brow. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, you’re no fun!” you groaned, grabbing his hand and pulling him into another spin.

For every kiss you give me, I’ll give you three

“Keep pulling me like that, and you’re going to trip over yourself,” he muttered, his hand tightening on yours.

Oh, since the day I saw you, I have been waiting for you

You ignored him, twirling dramatically, the hem of your oversized t-shirt flying up slightly. Kento caught the flash of skin at your waist and immediately steadied you with both hands, muttering under his breath about how reckless you were.

You know I will adore you 'til eternity

Your laughter bubbled up again, the sound sweeter than the song itself.

When the chorus repeated, Kento surprised you.

Without a word, he pulled you flush against him, holding your body close to his as he swayed lightly to the beat. You gasped, then giggled, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Kento!”

“What?” he replied, his expression soft as his hands rested on the plush curve of your hips. “You wanted me to dance, didn’t you?”

The warmth of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you stopped moving. His fingers gently trailed up your sides, his palms brushing over your soft waist. “Keep going,” he murmured.

Your grin returned in full force as the music swelled.

So won’t you please (Be my, be my baby) Be my little baby

You finished the song nestled against his chest, his steady movements guiding yours. When the music faded, you turned to look up at him, your breath still coming in quick bursts from all the dancing.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” you asked cheekily, resting your hands on his chest.

Kento's lips curved into a small smile. “If it makes you happy, it’s worth it.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you leaned up to kiss him, your soft lips meeting his in a way that made his arms tighten around your waist.

“Best dance partner ever,” you whispered.

“Don’t push it,” he teased, but the warmth in his gaze said otherwise.

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mylovesstuffs · 2 months ago

Text

A Song for the Ones Who Leave - Hansol Vernon Chwe

Genre: Non-idol au, music based au, slice of life and ephemeral love

Pairing: Vernon x fem!reader

Content: Almost but never quite, music as a letterslow burn, a narrative where reality blurs, almost somethings, the one that got away, fate vs timing, the relationship is one of potential of feelings that could bloom but remain unfinished so there's no resolution-just an acknowledgment of what could've been.

Word count: 838 words.

A/N: This is a new style I tried. Tumblr is still acting up, and I couldn't format it properly and didn't have the chance to edit it several times like I usually do because I always find flaws. That's why I usually let my works marinate in Tumblr drafts after promoting them from Docs, but since I can't do that anymore, you'll find flaws. Anyway, let me know if you liked it. Happiest birthday to Vernon! Your unique style and talent shine in everything you do, and your impactful presence leaves a lasting impression. Wishing you a year full of love, success, and everything you've dreamed of. Keep being you.

The first time you meet Vernon, it’s in a dimly lit record store just before closing.

The warm hum of an old speaker crackles in the background, playing something soft, something forgotten. You’re running your fingers over the spines of used vinyl, tracing faded letters as you try to decide whether you really need another album you’ll only play once before tucking it away.

Then, from the next aisle, someone hums a melody.

It’s low, unpolished, almost absentminded like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. The tune is unfamiliar but something about it makes you pause.

You shift slightly, peering through the gap between the shelves.

He’s standing with his hands in his hoodie pockets, scanning old CDs like he’s searching for something that isn’t there. The store’s dim lighting casts shadows along his jawline, softening the sharp angles of his face. He doesn’t notice you watching. Or if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

You don’t speak. Neither does he.

But when he leaves a few minutes later, you find yourself humming the same unfamiliar melody as if it’s already lodged somewhere deep in your mind.

The second time, it’s at an underground gig.

You didn’t come for him. Didn’t even know he’d be here. The venue is small, the kind where the walls are lined with old posters and the sound system is just good enough to drown out the chatter of the few scattered people nursing cheap drinks.

Then he steps onto the stage.

He’s dressed casually, an oversized sweater hanging loose over his frame, an old guitar slung over his shoulder. No one announces his name. He just takes the mic, adjusts it slightly, and starts playing.

The first note stills something inside you.

It’s the same melody from the record store. The same soft hum, now fully formed, stretching into something aching. His voice is quiet but not hesitant, it carries weight like a memory that refuses to fade. And then, somewhere in the middle of the song, his gaze flickers across the crowd and lands on you.

His fingers falter on the strings for the briefest second before he recovers, moving seamlessly into the next verse.

You pretend you don’t notice.

He pretends it didn’t happen.

The third time, it’s 2 AM in a convenience store.

You’re standing in front of the instant ramen section, staring at the shelves for a long time that should be concerning.

"You should go for the spicy one," a voice says beside you.

You glance over.

He’s there, hands in his pockets, looking at you like he’s not sure if he should acknowledge the past two times you’ve met.

You raise an eyebrow. "You don’t even know if I like spicy food."

He shrugs. "Everyone likes spicy food."

A beat of silence.

"Not everyone," you counter.

He exhales a quiet laugh, barely more than a breath. Then he tilts his head slightly, studying you. "You ever get the feeling you’re supposed to know someone?" he asks.

You hesitate. The air between you feels heavy but not in an uncomfortable way. More like something unspoken pressing against your ribs, waiting to be acknowledged. "Yeah," you finally say. "But sometimes, it’s not the right time."

Something changes in his expression but he just nods as if that’s an answer he expected. Neither of you say anything else. When you leave, you don’t look back.

And then, the song.

Months pass. Seasons change. You go back to your life and he moves further into his. You don’t see him in record stores or late-night convenience stores anymore. The encounters fade into something that feels almost like a dream.

Until one evening, when you hear it.

It’s playing from a stranger’s phone on the subway, the volume just high enough to carry over the dull murmur of the train.

At first, you don’t recognize it. Then the chorus hits and everything stills again.

It’s the melody. The same one he hummed in the record store. The same one he played on stage.

The lyrics are quiet, aching. They speak of fleeting moments, of people who slip through your fingers, of words left unsaid and glances that linger too long.

Of late-night convenience stores and almost-choices.

The weight of it settles deep in your chest.

You don’t know if he wrote it about you. You don’t know if he even remembers you. But the song exists now. It’s real, tangible, something more than just a fleeting moment between two people who kept crossing paths without ever truly meeting.

And so you wonder—

Do you go to him?

Or do you let the song be the last thing that remains?

The end.

"You were a half-finished melody,

a song I started but never wrote down.

We met in the quiet, between the static,

but some stories aren’t meant to be loud."

"I saw you in the flickering neon,

heard your voice in the hum of the train.

Some people aren’t meant to stay forever,

but that doesn’t mean they leave in vain.”

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neptuniadoesstuff · 8 months ago

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Byorb Time! (OC Update)

Finally finished the byorb. Been actually a while since I wanted to make a ref for him but I just didn't know when till now. However this is also a design update on him so some tweaks to his design were made when I was drawing this ref.

Next up I'm gonna redraw a certain alien bird with the taste for flesh... (Also with a change of Clothes bcs they're uh... working for my king fella)

Some stuff about him: His backstory is still fairly the same but I kinda maybe uh.... added smtn to him where he is possibly secretly trans (as in able to pass as male) but you can call him a cis guy idc tbh. He's literally a spirit now so mortal logic won't really work here.

(Also considering his snake wife IS TRANS, it prob would make sense for him be a trans man? But then again they're spirits so it doesn't matter? But meh maybe some logic could be inputted)

Anyways that's it for this guy. He's actually was a OC I created for a frend a few months back but here we are, with a design update bcs I'm just weird like that. (Like cmon I alredy updated a design of their snake man with juandice (whom I made for them) so why not borbus?)

Anyways... Credits lol.

Character was designed & created by me but is owned by a frend.

Art is mine.

Program: IbisPaint (literally the most glitchy ahh program ever but it's my main art program so I just gotta deal with it-)

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

#neptuniadoesstuff #art #oc #n-verse #Overseer (N-Verse)#Mailman lol #bird #Borb Person #Borbius #oc reference #ref #reference sheet #Peter Kal Atherton (OC)#Nokidori Angelos (OC)

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mothandpidgeon · 1 year ago

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Homecoming (Joel Miller x f!reader x Frankie Morales)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Frankie Morales, no outbreak!Joel Miller

Summary: Frankie asks his neighbor to keep an eye on things while he's in South America.

“I think that’s what he wants,” Joel finally speaks. His voice is low and dark, his eyes narrow. He’s talking to you but he’s looking right at Frankie. “I think when he asked me to look after you, he was hoping to come home to that. To see his woman treated right by another man. Tell me I ain’t right.”

Words: 5.6k

Rating: E 18+

Warnings: Frankie has to watch, he likes it, cuckolding, dom Joel, oral sex, voyeurism, orgasm denial, hand job, mentions of Frankie's addiction, toxic relationship, Frankie kind of sucks (canon, I said what I said), Joel steal your girl Miller (I'm sure I forgot some, let me know!)

a/n: I'll be honest, I don't see how Frankie was coming home to anything other than divorce papers after leaving his lady with a new baby (suggesting other babies!?) and giving all of his money away. Let's torment him!

As always thanks to @ezrasbirdie for the beta. Consider this my toxic Catalyst verse.

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

Frankie drums his fingers on his thigh. Flight leaves in an hour and he’s thinking about the front door.

He should be thinking about this gig. It’s risky as hell. If things go sideways, they’ll be completely fucked in the jungle with a narco on their ass. The money’s good but there are a hundred ways it could get hairy.

But you had a bad habit of leaving the front door unlocked. You’d done it just the day before when you picked the baby up from daycare.

“Christ, Frankie. My hands were full, ok?” you said when he mentioned it.

“Just don’t forget while I’m gone. You’ll be alone with the kids and I don’t want the house to be wide open,” he said.

“If you’re so worried about us, don’t go,” you said.

You’d given him a raft of shit about it. Leaving you with a baby and a three year old and no help.

“You promised me you were done doing stupid shit,” you said.

He’s promised you a lot of things.

You’re still so pissed that when he kissed Franny and the baby goodbye, you barely acknowledged he was leaving.

Which means if something does happen, you’ll never forgive him. He’s biting on the side of his thumb when he reaches for his phone.

…I’m going out of town for a bit but I’d feel a lot better if you’d just keep an eye on things…

He shoots the text off to his neighbor. Frankie doesn’t know him all that well—they’ve shared some beers at backyard barbecues— but he’s a good guy. His daughter babysits Franny all the time. Frankie feels a little better. At least you’ll be safe while he’s not there.

—

When Joel sees you a few days after he gets the text from Frankie, he knows you’re going through it.

You’re juggling a diaper bag, keys, and a water bottle while trying to lug the car seat up the front walk. The humidity isn’t doing anything kind to your hair and he’s pretty sure he saw you wearing the same yoga pants and oversized t-shirt the day before. Your daughter is whining about something he can’t quite make out from his driveway. She hovers around you doing dramatic, exasperated stomps.

He remembers Sarah at that age. It was hard enough to be a single parent to one, he can’t imagine how you’re doing it with two even if it’s just temporary.

Joel has to admit, he’d be looking over at you even if Frankie hadn’t asked. He likes you. You always ask about Sarah and even remember her birthday. When she stays late babysitting, you stand at the door and watch to make sure she gets in safe even though she’s just crossing the yard. And he’ll admit it, you’re attractive. He knows you’re spoken for but he can’t help the way his eyes linger when you’re bent over the back seat vacuuming up cheerios.

“Maybe when daddy gets back,” Joel hears you say. You’re out of breath but trying to keep a light air in your voice.

“But when is he coming home?” she complains.

The little girl tugs on your arm and the carefully balanced tower in your hand topples to the ground, the bottle making an especially loud clang that sets the baby off crying.

“Franny!” you snap.

“I didn’t mean to,” Franny says.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Joel watches your chest rise and fall, one deep breath to collect yourself. He imagines that you’re counting to ten in your head as he’s done a thousand times.

“I know, mija,” you say.

You run a hand over your messy hair and begin collecting your keys from the grass. Joel’s sure you’re on the edge of tears.

“You need a hand?” he calls over.

You’re startled when you look over at him. Maybe you’d been so focused on getting everybody into the house, you hadn’t even noticed he was in his yard. Your brows knit together and it looks like you’ve been clenching your jaw for hours. Finally, your shoulders lower slightly and Joel feels like he’s lifted the weight right off of you just by asking.

“Yeah, actually,” you say.

—

Motherhood is torture. Even on the good days. You’re covered in spit up and boogers and sticky lollipop sugar. Your eyes are ringed from sleep deprivation. Most meals are the sandwich crusts Franny refuses to eat.

But what really gets to you is the noise. Franny is a chatterbox, the baby is always at an 11, and the house is full of plastic toys that each play a series of increasingly infuriating songs. Even the white noise machine feels like taking a cheese grater to your ears.

It’s not so bad when you can share the load. But Frankie’s gone. He’s been gone more and more often. A stint in rehab. Pounding the pavement for a new job. Now off with Pope and the guys being weekend warriors. You’ve lost count of the number of second chances you’ve given him.

You’re just about to lose your shit when Joel calls over to you. He’s a godsend. He carries the carseat into the house for you and has Sarah come over to help keep Franny entertained. He insists you take a shower– something you haven’t had time to do in three days– and when you come back into the kitchen, you nearly burst into tears when you see he’s done the dishes.

The kids are in bed now and Sarah’s gone back next door to do homework. Joel sets grilled cheese sandwiches on the table for the two of you and you give him one of Frankie’s beers.

“A little crispy,” Joel says as way of apology for the bread that’s absolutely blackened. “Cooking’s not really my thing.”

“That’s ok. It’s just nice to have someone else do it for a change,” you say. “Thanks again. And Sarah too. She’s a good kid.”

“She is.” Joel smiles to himself.

“You raised her right,” you say and his blush is so handsome.

He’s older than Frankie but just as good looking. Strong arms, narrow waist. The light over the kitchen table picks up all the gray hairs around his temples. He’s definitely not hard to look at after a long day.

Eventually it comes up.

“So where’s your man off to?” Joel asks innocently enough.

“Fuck if I know,” you grumble. You don’t want to think about him, not now in this nice moment. You weren’t pretending to play house with Joel but you didn’t mind forgetting about Frankie for an hour or two. “Maybe he‘ll do us a favor and stay there.”

You don’t mean it. Years of putting up with his crap has made you bitter, downright mean.

“He asked me to check in on you while he was gone,” Joel says.

“He did?” you ask and he nods. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because every time I decide I’m done with him, he does something sweet and I lose my nerve.”

Joel’s quiet. Probably doesn’t know how to respond to such a personal bombshell when he was just making small talk.

“Sorry. You don’t want to hear my business.”

“Did I say that?” Joel asks.

You sigh. His eyes are so kind and you’re so goddamn tired.

“He told me three days before that he was going. Doing some Rambo shit with his boys. He said it was going to pay well and I can’t argue with him there because we need the money because he lost his job. Drugs. I couldn’t even call my sister and ask for her help this week because I was so embarrassed. You know how many times she’s told me to dump his ass? And I should, you know. I’ve got nobody to blame but myself.”

By now, you can feel tears coming. You’re so angry with Frankie and you’re mad at yourself. You can’t imagine what Joel must think— that you’re an idiot, that you’re weak.

But he cups your chin in his big hand. He’s got a deep crease between his eyebrows and, the way he’s looking at you, you feel like someone’s seeing you for the first time in years. “That’s not true. You don’t deserve any of that.”

The air feels thick between you and you feel so fucking grateful for the words he’s just said.

You kiss him, practically falling into his lips. He’s been so damn good to you and it’s been so long since you’ve felt taken care of. And he kisses you back. He pulls you into him. His thumb strokes your cheek and he opens his mouth to you. You can taste the beer on his tongue and it’s familiar. You’ve tasted it a thousand times on Frankie.

You realize what you’re doing. You’re sick of Frankie’s shit but he’s still your partner, the father of your children. Maybe this is really the last straw and you’ll finally end it with him but you haven’t yet. You’ve always considered yourself the better person, the bigger one, who put the kids first and doesn’t keep secrets. You don’t get to act all morally superior if you’re cheating on Frankie.

You break away and slap a hand over your mouth.

“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry,” you say.

“No. That’s alright.” Joel’s blinking like he’s trying to make sense of what just happened. “My fault. I came on too strong there. You’re having a bad day. I didn’t mean to take advantage.”

“I want to but I shouldn’t,” you tell him. You’ve never felt so mixed up in your life. “I guess I’ve got some thinking to do.”

Joel stands. “Listen, why don’t I get out of here. You can go to bed early.”

You’re mortified. He’s practically running away because you’re acting like a maniac. This man was kind to you for a minute and you blew it.

“Sorry again. Thank you,” you add as an afterthought.

He lingers in the doorway.

“Why don’t I bring Sarah back tomorrow if you’re still needing help? Promise I can keep my hands to myself,” he says with a little chuckle. “Unless…maybe you just want Sarah?” He’s jiggling his hand nervously.

You feel the faintest relief. You want him to come back. Not just for kissing purposes. He made you feel less alone.

“That’s be great. Both of you,” you say.

He gives you a sweet smile before leaving you to bury your face in your hands.

—

Frankie knows what to expect when he gets back. When he finally got cell service, you’d sent it his call straight to voicemail. He couldn’t blame you. He’d all but disappeared. And now he was returning home with nothing to show for it.

It’s not like this is the first time. He’s slept on Will and Benny’s couch more than once, come home to an empty house with a note on the kitchen table that you took Franny to your friend’s place. Don’t call until you get your shit together.

He’s got a whole speech in his head that he’s been thinking about for days. He wishes that he could tell you how close he’d come to death and how much he wants to turn things around but even he knows how hollow those words sound. This time he’s going to make it up to you.

It’s dark when he gets in. The house is quiet. He’s nervous again, jingling his keys in his hand. You’re sitting at the kitchen table which means he’s in deep shit. He’s ready to launch into his monologue but Frankie’s thrown off when he sees his neighbor sitting beside you.

“Is everything ok?” he asks, eyes darting between you and your guest. His mind immediately goes to the darkest places, worse things than the failure of your relationship.

“No, Frankie,” you say.

“Did something happen to the baby?” Adrenaline floods him for what must be the millionth time since he last stood in this room.

You sigh. “The kids are fine. They’re next door. Sarah’s watching them.”

“Oh.”

There’s a long pause where Frankie tries to recollect everything he was going to tell you, all of the promises he’d really keep this time. All he can think about is the fact that Joel’s sitting there looking at him like he’s a piece of shit. Frankie pushes up the brim of his hat to rub his forehead.

“Do I have to say it?” you ask. You look as exhausted as he feels. “I can’t do this any more.”

“I know,” Frankie says.

The guilt has made his throat go dry. He’s fucked up so many things. He remembers the last time you were sitting there, the little bag of white powder you’d found in his jacket resting on the table.

“You said you were extending the trip. I haven’t heard from you in a week,” you go on.

“Can we talk about this alone, baby?” he asks.

“No I don’t think so,” you tell him.

It’s hard enough to face the fact that he’s five minutes from losing you with without someone gawking. He shifts awkwardly.

“Can you give us a minute, man?” Frankie tries.

“Stay,” you tell Joel.

You put your hand on his upper arm and Frankie feels sick. He can tell just by that touch that Joel’s not just your shoulder to cry on. It boils in his gut.

“You’re going to do this in front of a stranger?” Frankie asks. It comes out louder than he meant. He’s got no business being angry. Not when he drove you away. But it’s suddenly not so easy to own up to his own failures.

“Frankie,” you say, level and quiet.

Joel crosses his arms and it feels like a warning. If Frankie doesn’t get his emotions in check, he will. Frankie’s almost tempted to test him. It would feel good to get hit.

“What’s this? Did you fuck him?” he asks.

Frankie wants to hear you say yes, to feel the knife slide in and twist.

“I didn’t,” you snap back. “But I wish I had.” You look like you want to stuff them back into your mouth but you raise your chin defiantly.

The words rattle around in Frankie’s ears. It hurts just the way he thought it would, imagining you spread out over this man’s lap.

There’s another feeling, too. He can’t name it. There’s a place where jealousy turns into violence but somehow it’s taken a left turn to self loathing. You deserve to have someone to make you feel good and Frankie, well, he’s hitting rock bottom again.

Frankie’s glaring at him but his breath shallows. The gravel in Joel’s voice goes straight to his groin. It’s twisted and he ought to punch Joel right in the mouth. Instead he’s frozen in place wondering why the blood is rushing to his cock.

Joel stands lazily and takes two steps to cross the distance between them. His eyes travel up Frankie’s body, slow, dangerous, until he meets his gaze. He’s mere inches away, close enough that Frankie can smell the clean scent of his soap.

“Tell me I ain’t right,” Joel says.

—

You’re on your feet in a flash to pull Joel away before they can come to blows but then you spy the growing bulge in Frankie’s pants. Your eyes go wide. Suddenly you're flooded with arousal though you can’t explain why. It should piss you off but you can’t help but imagine the look on his face if he’d walked in on you riding Joel in his own bed. You want to see it.

Before a cooler head prevails, you’re pulling Joel by the hand down the hall to your bedroom.

“What the hell are you doing?” Frankie asks, following behind.

“Looks like you’re getting your wish,” Joel says.

Frankie stands there gaping but he doesn’t do anything to stop you.

“You can stay there and watch or you can leave,” you tell him. That last word has a heavy finality to it. This isn’t like the other times when you took him back. He’s not coming home again.

Frankie says nothing, just shuts his mouth.

“You want to do this, sweetheart?” Joel asks. His tone is gentle.

You’re breathless. You’ve been fantasizing about fucking Joel since he swooped in and saved you. Behind Frankie’s back, maybe, not right in front of his face. But you want him to see, to know exactly what he lost each time he fucked up. You want to punish him.

“Yes,” you say and your eyes fall on Frankie.

His expression is a strange mixture of hunger and melancholy. Those sweet brown eyes are always what make you take him back no matter how much he’s hurt you.

“Pretend he’s not here,” Joel says, guiding your face back to him with his fingertips.

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” you say. It feels so good to be cruel.

“Good girl.”

His praise makes your mouth twitch into a smile.

“Tell him to take his clothes off,” you say.

Joel’s brows tick up.

“You heard her. Show her how hard you got,” he says.

“You fucking kidding?” Frankie asks but his words are toothless.

“You can go right now,” you say.

Frankie’s jaw shifts, grinding his molars. As he hesitates, Joel grabs the brim of his hat and pulls it off of Frankie’s curls. He examines the old thing with disinterest, then tosses it to the floor.

“Strip,” he demands.

The command makes you clench.

Joel turns his attention back to you once Frankie’s reluctantly begun to work at the buttons of his shirt. He brushes your cheekbone with the back of his knuckles, the pad of his thumb on your lips.

“Been thinking about kissing you since the other day,” he tells you.

His lips brush against yours, his nose nuzzling your cheek. The prickle of his mustache makes you gasp.

“Went home and thought about doing more than kissing you,” he says.

Your cheeks heat. He gives you a good, proper kiss now, pulling you in with a hand on your waist. It’s deep and slow, practically romantic though you’re in a situation that feels quite the opposite. Either way, you’re left swooning a little, tangling your fingers into his full hair so your knees don't buckle.

Frankie’s completely bare and Joel glances in his direction. His eyebrows lift momentarily when he catches sight of Frankie’s erection then he scoffs quietly and goes back to kissing you. He gets his hands under your shirt and slides it over your head.

You can feel Frankie’s eyes dancing over the two of you. You crack yours open to look at him while you let Joel’s tongue into your mouth. It’s like he’s watching a car crash and he can’t look away— horrified, exhilarated, disgusted. It feels as sinful as Joel’s mouth traveling down your neck.

You want Frankie to know just how badly you want this so you snake your hand down to palm at Joel’s cock straining against his jeans. He’s big, more than a handful. Joel groans against your collar bone. Frankie winces.

Joel’s touch leaves goosebumps on your skin. He trails his fingers down your chest and teases around the fabric of your bra. You unhook it and toss it aside then wriggle out of your pants. He lets out a low hum at the sight of you exposed.

“I’d hate to be the man that let this gorgeous thing get away,” Joel says.

He cups your breast, then puts his mouth to it. His teeth graze against your nipple and you hear Frankie hiss before you do.

Joel sits down on the bed, the one you’ve shared with Frankie for years, and draws you down to his lips. As he kisses you, his forefingers notch in the waistband of your panties and drags them down painfully slowly. He’s drawing it out for his audience, inch by inch before dropping them to the floor. His eyes look over the newly revealed flesh hungrily. The heat of his gaze and Frankie’s longing stare has you slick and needy.

Joel turns you around and sits you between his legs. He pulls you into his chest and spreads your legs wide, putting you on display for Frankie. His fingers strum at you, feather light and your hips buck.

“Fuck,” you sigh.

“Sensitive,” he says.

His stubble bites into your shoulder as he continues to touch you, carefully, finding the spots that make you melt. You tip your head back into him, tuck your face into the crook of his neck as you begin to lose yourself to pleasure. He smells so good— earthy and fresh and masculine. You want his scent all over your sheets.

“Come here. On your knees,” Joel commands.

Frankie swears under his breath but he obeys, kneeling in front of you, his nostrils flaring as he watches you writhe under Joel’s touch.

“Open up,” Joel says and swats at Frankie’s cheek.

It doesn’t seem like he used much force but still you say, “Don’t hurt him.”

None of the scars you have from Frankie are physical.

“That’s okay,” Frankie mumbles.

You’re surprised by him once again. He wants it, the full force of this torture.

“Yeah. She’s too nice to you,” Joel tells him.

He sticks two thick fingers into Frankie’s mouth, so deep that he gags. Joel returns them to your pussy, sliding one inside. The stretch pulls a dreamy sigh from you as the heel of his hand creates unbelievable friction against your clit.

Frankie’s eyes are riveted to the spot where Joel’s finger disappears inside of you.

“Hey,” Joel barks.

You look past the edge of the bed to see Frankie’s hand over his dick, thumb brushing down its length. It’s glazed in strands of precum, desperate.

“Hold on, beautiful,” Joel says, kissing your neck and removing his hand. He shifts around you on the bed and stands up.

“Do you think ought to be doing that?” Joel asks.

You bite down on your lip at the sight of him towering over Frankie, fully clothed while the other man shrinks beneath him like a scolded puppy.

“Next time you want to touch yourself, think about how you wronged this woman.”

Frankie makes a choked sound and he looks up at you with an apology in his eyes. Your first impulse is to go to him, comfort him, but then you remember why you’re here— the litany of fuck ups you’ve had to suffer. The nights you were home with the baby while Frankie went to Benny’s fights. The money that went up his nose. The excuses you made for him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. He’ll make it up to you. You know what she likes?” Joel asks him.

Frankie nods.

“Show me.”

Frankie moves slowly like he’s worried Joel’s trying to trick him. He puts his lips to you, tongue rounding your clit in the way that always drives you wild. Your head falls back with a long, slow release of breath. There’s no denying how good those luscious strokes feel. If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s Frankie disappointing you and then giving you a mind blowing orgasm as penance.

As you rock your hips up towards his mouth, he starts to work faster like his life depends on it. Little grunts escape him and the sensation mounts, muscles tensing.

“Joel,” you whine as if he’s the one that’s making your legs begin to shake.

Frankie falters for just a second upon hearing the other man’s name. Though he lost that perfect rhythm, knowing you’ve hit him again makes up for it.

You go inwards, focusing all of your attention on the heat at your core, sure that you’ll break at any moment.

Suddenly, he’s gone and you gasp, your high stolen away. You look up to see Joel holding Frankie back by the scruff of his neck.

“You don’t get to make her cum,” Joel says.

If you were disappointed, Frankie looks absolutely devastated to be parted from you. His face is screwed up in torment, his glistening lower lip turned down in a frown.

Joel casts him aside and takes his place between your thighs.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, hooking his forearms around your open thighs.

His strokes are different but it feels just as dizzying. You close your eyes and lay back again, melting into his wet mouth. He hums against your lips and you feel it vibrate through your whole body. It’s been such a long time since you’ve felt something wholly different, the newness makes everything you experience heightened.

It’s not long before your ass is lifting off the sheets, panting and absolutely coming undone. Your tightening around nothing, your legs threatening to snap shut around Joel’s ears.

You’ve completely forgotten about Frankie in this moment of bliss. Especially when Joel says, “That’s my girl. Deserve to feel like that all the time.”

He kisses the crease of your thigh and up your belly, putting his lips to every inch of you.

“You look beautiful, darlin’. Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

“Yeah.” Frankie’s throat sounds dry like he just crossed a desert.

A blissful smile softens your face.

You roll into Joel’s chest and tug on his belt loops, grinding his hips against you. The denim is deliciously rough against your swollen clit and you can feel a damp spot. He wants you.

“Get these off so you can fuck me,” you say.

Joel chuckles. “Needy girl.”

He gets up and you see Frankie at the foot of the bed, helpless. You know him well enough to understand that look in his eye that’s begging you not to go all the way. You’ve made your point. Mercy.

You arch an eyebrow. Does he really think he’s paid the price?

—

All of the muscles in Frankie’s legs burn. His knees ache. It’s his ego that’s taking a beating.

He doesn’t have to sit here and watch this. In fact, he probably could’ve stopped this before it even began. But he hasn’t moved an inch. There’s part of him that knows he deserves this torment, another part that enjoys it. So he stays there watching you from a wholly new perspective.

“What’s her favorite position?” Joel asks as he shucks off his pants.

You’re watching him strip down eagerly, licking your lips like some kind of hungry beast. You used to look at him like that.

“She likes it from behind,” Frankie admits.

Joel’s eyebrows raise and he looks at you for confirmation. You can’t help but giggle.

“Filthy little thing,” Joel says.

Frankie’s always thought that too. You drove him wild with the dirty things you asked for. You’d get him hard under the table at the bar, pull him into the bathroom at Will’s place for a quickie. Things haven’t been like that between you for a long time, though.

Frankie’s eyes rake over Joel’s naked form. His arms are muscular and tan, well built for a man in his 50s. Well endowed, too. He doesn’t want to look but how can he stop himself from comparing his own cock to the one that’s about to fuck you? He doesn’t want to think about the way his mouth waters either.

“Frankie, you got a condom?” Joel calls.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him. “You can cum in me.”

Frankie’s stomach turns but the desire twists in his belly. He can’t wait to be put out of his misery.

“Fuck,” Joel growls.

You get on all fours for Joel, ass up in the air, tits swaying just the way Frankie likes. You’re about eye level with him so he’s right there with you when Joel pushes inside of you. You moan, so pretty, and your face strains at the pressure. It’s such an obscene sight— only problem is that he’s not the one giving it to you. His cock still responds, twitching with need. He hates it and he loves it.

Joel’s swearing, gritting his teeth. His fingers dimple the flesh around your hips with a strong grip. Frankie knows exactly how exquisite it feels to be inside you, surrounded by warm velvet. He wants to be the one who’s hips, thighs are fucking against you, splitting you open and making you shake.

Instead he has to watch. Watch your back arch. Listen to that succulent squelch where your bodies meet. Savor the taste of you still on his tongue.

And because he wants to touch himself and he’s good at following a command, he thinks about all the times he’s forgotten your anniversary or gotten high before Thanksgiving dinner. It hurts and it feels so good.

When Joel finishes, he spares Frankie by not doing it inside of you. But Frankie has to see him paint your ass with it, marking you as you touch yourself and whine.

It stings. You’ve been looking at him like a cockroach and he’s so fucking turned on it’s painful. He’s still throbbing, surprised he hasn’t yet burst from hearing you cum. His cock is swollen, leaking and slick.

He’s obediently waiting, biting on his lip so hard that he can practically taste blood. Each moment of torment only intensifies the pleasure.

You’re glowing now, laid out on your side, chest still heaving. Joel’s caging you between his arms, kissing your jaw as you rake your fingers through his hair. He glances at Frankie like he just remembered that he’s there.

“How does he look?” Joel asks.

“Pathetic,” you say, still out of breath, and give a little laugh.

It makes him ache.

You stretch your arms over your head luxuriously

and sigh. “Let him cum.”

Frankie lets out a whimper. You’ve always been so generous with him. You’ve been patient and loved him when he’s made it so damn difficult. He’s never deserved you and he doesn’t deserve to get this release. But fuck he’s never needed it more.

“You do it,” you tell Joel with a mischievous smile.

He shakes his head with a laugh.

Frankie swallows thickly when Joel approaches him. He takes Frankie’s chin in his hand, the pad of his thumb grazing against his stubble. From his place on the floor, Frankie can smell you on him.

“Up,” Joel says.

He gets to his feet as quickly as he can but it takes some effort. His toes are tingling and even the air moving around his cock as he rises feels unbearable.

Joel’s near enough that Frankie can feel his breath on his neck. He lets out a moan and shuts his eyes. Joel’s hand closes around him, squeezes the base of his cock and Frankie bucks.

“You like that Frankie?” he hears you ask. “You like feeling his hands on you?”

He doesn’t know, can’t form words or even thoughts. Frankie’s never been touched by another man before, not like that. He’s so senseless he doesn’t even bother to figure out how he feels about doing this. If that’s what you want for him right now, he’s willing to do it.

Joel tugs at him, his hand rough except for what’s leaked down Frankie’s length. He’s so sensitive, so delirious.

“She asked you a question.” Joel’s lips are pressed against his ear, the sweat of his chest sticky on Frankie’s back. He sets a steady pace with his strokes.

Frankie tries to answer but he chokes, sees white behind his eyes. His climax is as violent as a slap in the face.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby,” he babbles as he coats Joel’s fist.

When the fog lifts and Frankie blinks his vision back into focus, you’re staring at him and Joel with your lips parted. You look turned on and awe struck and exhilarated. Frankie wavers and Joel catches him by the shoulder.

“You gonna make it?” Joel asks him.

Frankie can only nod. He feels relieved. Not just from the release. He tries to catch his breath, sitting on the floor.

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart,” Joel offers.

“Mm,” you respond.

Frankie’s left alone. He hears the shower. There’s so much to make sense of and he’s still, quite frankly, delirious.

He’s shocked when you come out of the bathroom a moment later, your robe hangs in your naked body. He wishes he could touch you but he’s not sure if he still has that privilege.

You crouch down beside him, a damp washcloth in your hand, and you begin to clean him. It’s warm and soft on his chin and you’re gentle as you mop up his thigh. He’s overcome. Once again you’re so good to him and he’s unworthy.

Your face is a mix of emotions and he can tell you’re thinking. You’re careful not to meet his eye until you’re finished and when you do, all of the mischief and desire is gone.

You sigh.

“You can stay but you’re sleeping on the couch,” you tell him.

A knot forms in his throat and he thinks he might just cry.

“Thank you,” he manages to whisper without tears.

You nod and then hesitate. Another sigh. Finally you put your lips to his forehead, a light, quick kiss. It feels like something close to forgiveness.

---

thanks for reading!

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#joel miller fic #joel miller #frankie morales fic #frankie morales x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales #tlou #the last of us fic #triple frontier fic

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pixiesfz · 1 year ago

Note

could you write about sam being sick and still playing through a game and the reader just takes care of her afterwards etc? i loved your jessie fic so much 😭😭🫶🏼

Stubborn girls s.k x r

plot: After a family night out Sam gets food poisoning, y/n tells her not to play but she doesn’t listen.

warning: reader and Sam have a child, sickness and vomiting , I’m writing this on my phone, I also don’t know how to cure food poisoning so just go with it

“I liked that place” You said as Sam opened the door for you and your sleeping daughter who you know held “I’m not sure my stomach isn’t feeling right”

“Well that is because you got the seafood which I said don’t get because-“

You were cut off as your wife ran to the toilet it wasn’t till later you heard Sam hurling up the last of her dinner.

you walked to the bathroom with your little toddler still in your arms who now stirred awake.

“Sam?” You asked at the door “I’m alright” she said “you sure? The colour in your face says different” you pointed at her face as Sam once again had her face in the toilet.

“Mama sick” your toddler said from your shoulder and you nodded “yeah cause she ate the seafood” you mumbled and your wife groaned.

“Time to go to bed bubba” You told your daughter who merely nodded “Sam are you okay?” You asked her again and she nodded “It’s a one time thing I reckon” her Australian accent shining through, you nodded and walked your daughter to her room.

“Mama got game tomorrow” your daughter said and you nodded “correct but mama is sick and shouldn’t play” you smiled at your daughter even though your words were serious “but mama said she’s fine”

“Mama lies a lot”.

You made sure your daughter was in bed and asleep before you made your way to the kitchen and grabbed medicine and a washcloth which you put u der the cold water from the sink.

“Sammy” you sung out, expecting her to be in the bed but she was still in the bathroom. You sighed as you now knew that she shouldn’t play tomorrow.

Sam seemed to read your mind as she looked up to you “I’m fine I promise” she said but you shook your head “Your skin is pale, you have bags under your eyes and your head has been stuck in the toilet for about” you checked your watch “twenty minutes now”

“Twenty minutes?” Sam asked and you nodded “little darling was a bit woke when she heard you chuck up” you said before you sat down next to Sam and took off your shoes “I’m fine-“ “No you’re not” you cut off Sam.

You rose your brows at her which she looked away from “you have food poisoning” you told her before bringing the medication and the washcloth out.

Sam excepted it as you put it on her forehead “You know you can’t play tomorrow” you told her and she groaned “we are versing Arsenal tomorrow I am playing” she said “what and vomit all over the pitch, no way am I watching that” you said before filling up a glass of water.

“Here take these” you said before pushing the tablets out to her, she did and you stroked her hair “just know that your team would rather you play healthy rather than play sick” you said and she leaned into your touch “I love you” she said with a smile.

“Are you trying to trick me into telling you that you can play”

“No”

You looked at her again.

“Maybe” she admitted and you gave her a sweet kiss on her temple “you missed” she whispered, a joke between the two of you on how you had your first kiss.

“I am not kissing you on the lips until you drink that water and have those tablets” you said before sitting up “I’ll grab you pyjamas and I’ll put a bucket next to our bed, if you need to wake me then do” you told Sam with a stern voice as she usually would try to hide any sickness or injury from you.

You grabbed her a pair of trackie shorts and a used oversized top and a bucket before placing the bucket to Sam’s side of the bed and passing the clothing to her.

“I love you” Sam said “and I truly mean it this time” she smiled “I love you too, in sickness and in health” you joked before giving her a soft kiss on the lips.

You crashed into your bed fairly quickly after and fell asleep, when you woke up you went to cuddle into Sam only to find an empty space.

Opening your eyes, you groaned to see your wife not present in the bed, then you checked the clock to see the time.

10 am.

You shot up, you were supposed to be up at 8, your alarm should’ve woken you up it always does.

Then you saw the paper on top of Sam’s pillow.

‘I feel better now and went to the game, sorry’

“That evil little Australian mother fucker” you swore to yourself before you heard a gasp behind you.

“Mummy swore!” Your daughter said from behind you “no she didn’t” you said very quickly to the giggly girl

“You said fuck!” she yelled before running away.

You sighed to yourself as you ran your fi hers through your hair. Grabbing your phone you saw to see that Sam turned off your alarm.

You then called her in anger which she didn’t pick up. Rolling your eyes you got up and put your jeans and your Chelsea jersey on “Well if she says she’s fine then let’s go watch”.

You got ready quickly and then got your daughter ready who had thankfully have seemed to forget about her new word she had learned.

You out on her Chelsea beanie and top and you both drove to the game. It would be around the second half once you got there.

“Hey y/n where you been, did you sleep in?” One of Your girlfriends team mates sister teased as you sat in the family and friends section. “You can say something like that.

“Mama Sick!” Your daughter smiled to her and she nodded her head “I could tell something was off because right now we’re getting smashed” she said and you furrowed your brows “what?” She pointed at the score.

3-1

You let your daughter look over the gate as you shook your head and looked for Sam “can you see Mama?” You asked your daughter and she laughed “Mama off” she said and you looked to the corner to see Sam subbed off.

You hated to say it because you loved her so much but she looked terrible.

Her tan skinned turned green and her bags under eyes were so dark she must not have slept last night.

When the siren went You saw Millie who went to go to your daughter “get Sam” you told her as she picked your daughter up “Is Mama in trouble?” Millie sang out to your daughter who laughed at the older girl

“how bout, lie to your wife, turn her alarm off so she doesn’t know that your playing sick type of mad?” You said

“Mummy is very mad” your daughter told Millie who opened her eyes wide “I’ll go get her” she said and went off, you didn’t want to get mad at her in public so you shook your head “tell her to meet me at home”

When you next saw Sam she walked into the kitchen where you sat with your daughter, watching her favourite show and she walked up to you with her head down “What you upset that I didn’t wake up later?” You asked and she shook her head.

When she looked up your heart almost broke, her eyes were shiny and her face was red, she had been crying.

“I’m sorry” she said and sniffed and you quickly got yo and held her “it’s okay” you said before you shook your head “actually it’s not okay but we can get to that later” you told her as you rubbed her back up and down.

When she sat down next to you she put her head on your shoulder “I shouldn’t of played, I just put them one man down, I couldn’t do anything special” she said and you grabbed her hand “You don’t need to do something special every time you play Sam”

“I know since the World Cup eyes have been on you but I want you to know that you are allowed to make mistakes and take time for yourself without being a bad player or being selfish”

She looked up to you with glossy eyes “I love you so much, you always know what to say” you smiled “I know and that’s why you married me” you smirked, knowing this time you were right.

“Mummy said fuck!”

Both of your heads whipped to your daughter who was smiling with her doll.

“Mummy said what?” Sam asked your daughter with a smirk.

You were somehow both in the doghouse that night.

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theweightofakiteofdreamsingold · 1 year ago

Text

Dreams – D. Wagner

Warnings: Explicit sexual content; mature themes; fingering; oral sex (fem receiving); unprotected sex; language; MINORS DNI

A/N: Apologies for being late to the Christmas Party, you guys. I ✨almost✨ abandoned this fic in the swamp, but I’m glad I went back and read it tonight with fresh eyes. Ken’s been trying to get me to finish it for days. Anyways, enjoy a little reunion fic bc late Saturday nights are for Danny smut, apparently (I don’t make the rules).

Bajabule,

-Han

As you moved about the kitchen, straightening the countertops and wiping them down, you found yourself lost in the music that drifted throughout the house. The sound that came from the turntable and speakers in your living room made your entire body feel warm, despite being simply clad in your favorite pair of underwear and one of Danny’s old oversized Christmas sweaters.

You’d decided to get a jump on getting into the Christmas spirit, as you’d found it difficult to do so this year with him and his brothers touring on the other side of the world. The first half of December seemed to have sprinted and crawled by at the same time, and you’d only just put up your Christmas tree and decorations the day before. Today, you focused on making treats for when Danny did come home, which wouldn’t be for another two or three days. Doing all of the decorating and baking did well to change the course of your thoughts, and you took advantage of this.

You mixed ingredients, baked gingerbread cookies, and put together a Christmas simmer pot, all while slowly losing yourself in the silky crooning voice of Frank Sinatra as he sang your favorite holiday classics.

After you’d finished your festivities for the day and cleaned everything up, you decided to trudge up the stairs and settle into bed with a nice, cozy blanket to watch a Christmas movie. After you turned off all the lights, you turned on the TV and flipped through your options. After settling on a movie, you snuggled up in your dimly-lit bedroom and watched the screen until your eyelids grew heavy.

As you closed your eyes and drifted to sleep, you heard the soft, muffled voices from the TV fade as your dreams overtook you.

Your dream started out like the Hallmark movie that was playing on your TV when you fell asleep. You were in a small, cozy cabin in the mountains for the holidays, and Danny was meeting you there. Whenever you arrived first, you went to the nearest store and bought things to bake. On your drive back to the cabin, Christmas music was playing on the radio station you’d tuned in to, and Frank Sinatra’s silky voice wrapped you up again as he slowly sang the first verse to “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.” You hummed along as you pulled up to the cabin and carried your groceries inside.

You put the first set of gingerbread cookies in the oven and set a timer to take them out before you started mixing ingredients to make your second batch. Still humming the song from earlier, you’d just started mixing when you heard the front door open. Excitedly, you turned around, watching as Danny sat his bags down and slipped out of his jacket that was peppered with snow.

You turned back around and continued mixing your batter while you listened to the soft sound of his socks padding across the hardwood floor. You felt him slip his arms around your waist and squeeze you into his frame, his chin resting softly on your shoulder.

“Smells amazing in here. Making my favorite, I see?”

You grinned at him and let out a little giggle. “Of course.”

“You’re so sweet,” he said softly, his hands toying with the hem of your sweater, and tickling the skin on the tops of your bare thighs as he gently swayed the two of you back and forth. You relaxed into him, and he straightened. You looked up at him from below and took in the shape of his face like it was the first time you’d ever seen it; the shape of his nose and lips, the curls in his hair and the tiny flakes of snow that hadn’t managed to melt just yet. He looked down at you and you watched as the sweetest smile slowly spread itself across his face, making the corners of his deep brown eyes crinkle the tiniest bit. He leaned down and met your lips with his, bringing one of his hands up to cup the side of your face.

When he pulled his lips back from you, he kept the tip of his nose touching yours while his eyes softly held your gaze. “I missed you so much, honey,” he said, the pad of his thumb softly skimming over your cheekbone.

“God, I missed you, Danny.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whined, feeling him press himself into your back.

“Well you don’t have to worry. Because I’m here now, sweetheart.”

You huffed a breath, squeezing your thighs together and holding them.

His hands migrated from your hips at this, and he lifted the hem of your sweater, slowly dipping his hand into your underwear. You sucked in a sharp breath when his skin met yours. “Your hands are freezing!”

“Mm,” he hummed against your ear as he slipped his fingers between your folds. “Sorry,” he chuckled, “you’re so fucking warm I can’t help myself.”

His fingers circled your clit and you moaned, feeling his cock grow harder still behind you. “Fuck, Danny. Keep going,” you said, your breath getting heavier by the second. He did as you asked, and right as you were about to cum, you jolted awake, your chest heaving.

You felt a jolt behind you, making you jolt again, turning your head and your sleepy eyes around to see Danny, eyes-wide, staring back at you from under your blanket.

Lost for words, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and opened them again to still, despite your belief, see Danny sitting beside you in the bed. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice still heavily laced with grogginess from your nap.

“We decided to change our flights at the last minute. I think we were all just ready to get back home. I wanted to surprise you,” he said, giving you a small smile.

“Well I’m glad you did,” you said, rolling over to him and straddling his hips. He readjusted the blanket around you as you leaned down to kiss him. The two of you took each other in for a bit, and he pulled back just far enough to speak.

“I missed you so much, honey,” he whispered.

You froze, remembering the exact moment in your dream that he uttered those words and what he was doing when he said them. You replayed it in your head, and felt warmth spread between your legs. “I missed you,” you said, pulling him back to your mouth. You felt his cock start to harden rather quickly under you, and you immediately rolled your hips into him, your breath starting to pick up.

“Is that my sweater?” He asked, his eyes glinting at you from below.

“Yeah,” you said, unsure of what he would say next.

He smirked and flicked his gaze from the sweater to your eyes. “It looks really good on you. I like it.”

You slipped the sweater over your head and let it fall to the floor. “Does it look better now?”

His hands gripped your hips and he let out a hard laugh. He flipped you over so that you were under him, and he peppered kisses from your mouth to your breasts, taking his time to spoil each new area he encountered, leaving your heat more soaked and needy for him than it ever had been.

Once he’d met your underwear, he lifted his head as he hooked his fingers around your waistband and waited. You lifted your hips, and he took his cue to pull your underwear down your legs. He paused after he dropped them on the floor.

His eyes flicked from your dripping pussy to your eyes and back. He let out a small huff of air and chuckled to himself.

“What’s so funny?”

He looked at you and raised his eyebrows before he spoke. “I’m toast.”

“What do you mean?” you chuckled back at him.

“I’m not gonna last two fucking seconds in there. There’s no way.”

“Why do you say that?”

His eyes widened as he dramatically glanced back and forth again. “Baby I’ve never seen you wet like this for me. Ever. And it’s been way too long. This is gonna be a fuckin’ mess.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked, raising your eyebrows with a smirk.

You watched his jaw fall slack as he stared at you, almost in a daze, before he slowly started slipping his clothes off and tossing them in the floor.

Once he’d fully undressed himself, he settled his shoulders between your legs leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs, slowly moving closer and closer to your heat. The closer he got, the faster you huffed, your heart hammering with anticipation for the feeling of his mouth; a sensation you’d thought about every single night that he was gone.

Your hands lightly shook as they reached for his hair, knowing full-well you didn’t have the self-control to keep yourself from finishing just moments after he delved his tongue inside of you. Once he was happy with the number of kisses he’d given you, his hands crept up your thighs, and he used his fingers to separate you just a bit, giving his tongue easier access to your already swollen clit.

He started slowly, running his tongue from your entrance to your clit before giving it a few soft flicks before descending again, making your legs involuntarily twinge with every flick. Your hands softly gripped the roots of his curls as he continued.

Slowly, he began to move faster, shortening the time between the flicks on your clit, making you whimper as he did so. Your grip tightened as you felt a burning in the pit of your stomach already. “Shit, Danny,” you moaned.

His eyes flicked up to you from below. “What is it? You need some more?”

You moaned again, his voice making you wetter with every syllable. It was then that he slipped his middle and ring fingers into your folds and moved them around, collecting your juices before slipping them languidly into your core. Your back arched at the contact and your fingers completely wrapped themselves around his hair and pulled harder than before, making him moan into your pussy as he sucked your clit into his mouth. His fingers curled, rubbing the perfect spot, and you cried out, your hips bucking shamelessly into his face. The pit of your stomach was seething, and you didn’t even try to quench the fire.

“Oh god, Danny– I– ohhhhh fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck–.”

He quickened the pace at which his fingers pumped in and out of your entrance, and you immediately felt the warmth of your first orgasm spread over your entire body. His pace was unwavering, and you continually writhed under him and bucked your hips, physically begging for him to be deeper inside you.

You moaned again.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He cooed, “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” His eyebrows raised, soft and expectant.

“Need you–,” you choked between whimpers, “to fffffff–.” His fingers slowed, giving your brain a moment to work through the numbing haze he was causing with his fingers. “Fuck me,” you whispered. “Please.”

“Been dreaming about hearing you say that to me for months, honey. Dreaming about how you’d look with me buried as deep as I can go. Is that what you want?”

The only bodily function you could manage was a vehement nod of your head, making him let out a breathy chuckle. He removed his fingers from you and leaned up, gently placing his lips on your forehead as he lined himself up with your entrance.

You watched as his mouth hung open while he slipped the tip of his cock into your core, letting out a shaky breath like it was the first time all over again. You sucked in a sharp breath as you adjusted to his girth, feeling him stretch the walls of your pussy so slowly you had to make an effort not to drool. Your head fell backward as your chest heaved at the feeling of fullness between your legs while your hands gripped him by the roots of his curls again.

Moving deeper still, he let out a deep groan, fighting the overwhelming urge to press the rest of the way into you to satisfy himself. He lifted his head to make eye contact with you, his mouth still sitting agape as he slowly continued to slide into you.

“Goddamn, honey. You’re so fucking perfect. So fucking perfect.”

Once he reached the furthest he could, you whimpered, very lightly rolling your hips up into him.

“Mmm, you really did miss me, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whined. “Every fucking night, Danny.”

“I’m flattered,” he said, smirking.

He started pulling his hips back and pushing them in, helping you grow accustomed to the feeling of his thrusts before speeding up. You moaned with each push, already reveling in the depth that he could reach in his current position. Unable to help himself, he pushed into you quicker and harder second by second, his grunts being muted by the slick sounds from your core and the sound of his skin meeting yours over and over.

His breath quickly left him as he continued sharply rocking you back into your pillows, trying his best to hold himself up for as long as he could. His rhythm was impeccable, as one would expect, and you felt your second orgasm creep up on you much quicker than you’d anticipated.

“Danny. Danny. Fuck,” was all you could say before your lower stomach burst with warmth again, leaving your legs trembling on either side of his perfect hips.

“Mmm keep going, sweetheart. Just feel it, yeah? Right there?”

You moaned, nodding your head, focusing everything on the feeling oh his cock sliding in and out of you, like he said. Heavy breaths fell from your lips, and your chest was absolutely burning. It was then that he straightened, removing his cock from you entirely and backing himself off the bed, standing at the end of it. His hands encircled the bottoms of your calves, and he gently pulled you to the edge of the bed; so close that your ass was nearly hanging off the end.

He opened your legs wide and lined himself back up before plunging deliciously deeper inside your core, making you cry out for him. Your hands gripped the sheets under you hard enough to turn your knuckles white. He knew you loved being as close to him as possible while he fucked you, so he slid his arm behind you so that the crook of his elbow rested perfectly behind your neck, his hand firmly gripping your shoulder while his other hand rested on the top of your head. You felt warm and wholly connected to him being wrapped in his arms like this, and you knew he felt the same. He planted a lusty kiss on your lips, lingering there, slipping his tongue into your mouth on occasion.

Once he broke the kiss, he pulled his hips back, pulling his cock out of you about halfway, and pressed down with both of his hands, bringing you to him as he brought himself to you, pushing himself into you deeper than he’d ever gone to date. Your back arched, pressing your chest up into his and he forcefully met your hips with his own, the sounds between the two of you becoming louder and messier by the second. His grunts turned into sharp exhales as he tried with everything he had to hold out and pace himself for his own climax, desperately trying to finish you off for a third time before he indulged.

“Ohhhhh my fucking GOD, Danny,” you moaned. “You’re so fucking deep. Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”

He moaned, and you could tell from the sound of it that he was tiptoeing on his edge. You tried with everything you had to squeeze his cock as hard as you could, and you thought you had him. His eyes screwed shut and his mouth fell open, and you watched him fight with his entire being for every second he could stand it.

His grip on your shoulder and your hair grew much tighter as he grit his teeth together, his chest heaving harder than you’d ever seen it. He pulled you impossibly closer to him, every inch of your skin burning against his as he pounded into you the hardest he had all night.

“Cum for me, sweet girl. Show me how bad you needed my cock while I was gone, huh? Come on,” he coaxed. You arched again, harder than you ever had, and you cried out for him again, your entire body trembling as he kept his rhythm perfectly again, making your legs twinge from the immense stimulation.

Soon after, you felt his hips quiver, and it took mere seconds for him to start his release. You did what you could to squeeze around him while he rode out his high, milking his cock while he grunted and moaned into your neck, eventually laying his upper half against yours in a heaving pile. Your hands trailed the expanse of his back as his chest pressed into yours with each breath he took.

When he rose from you, he slipped out from between your legs and padded off to the bathroom for a washcloth. After he’d cleaned the both of you, he settled himself at the head of the bed, pulling you to him. You laid your head on his chest and threw your arm across his torso as he pressed his lips against your forehead, reaching for the TV remote on the nightstand.

After flipping it on, he looked at you and grinned.

“What?” You asked, reflecting his smile on your lips.

“That must’ve been a really good nap earlier to put you in that big of a mood,” he said, waggling his brows at you.

You blushed, looking away from him for a moment with a giggle.

“Actually…”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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#greta van fleet #greta van smut #gvf #starcatcher #greta van fic #greta van art #danny wagner fic #danny wagner smut #danny gvf #danny wagner

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