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mypoisonedvine · 4 months ago

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𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 | eddie munson x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | based on a request from the lovely @ultraintrovertedgryffindor ; getting stuck in an elevator with his best friend (and secret crush) was absolutely not on eddie's morning agenda, but it leads to one of his most wild fantasies coming to life.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 3.8k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SMUT (18+ only!! semi-public sex, oral m receiving, kinda pervy eddie but also slightly pervy reader with a balls fixation gee I wonder where that idea came from), best friends to lovers (but very very limited plot haha), pretty much exactly what it says on the tin y'all not sure what to say

Eddie laughed as he pressed his hands to the elevator doors, but it wasn't a laugh of amusement— it was exasperation, frustration, an is this really happening? laugh.

"Soonest we can get a crew out there is uhh... noon?" the voice on the emergency phone informed you.

"Noon?!" you yelped. "It's not even half past eight!"

"What did I tell ya?" Eddie recalled, hanging his head in defeat for a second. "Nothing good happens before ten."

"Just try to stay calm and we'll be there when we can," the operator suggested, like it was so simple.

You didn't even reply to that, just scoffed and hung up.

It wasn't like he'd been looking forward to his GED exam, in fact he'd almost been hoping for a way to put it off or get out of it... but this was definitely not what he was imagining. Of all the elevators to get stuck in, this generic government building where he was supposed to have his big test proctored was probably the most boring option.

He glanced over at you, and stopped himself from making a dirty joke: you heard that Aerosmith single, right? Love In An Elevator?

That probably wouldn't have gone over well. He used to say stuff like that when you were both a little younger, but he'd since given up hope of it ever actually... inspiring anything. You two were probably better off as friends anyways; or, that’s what he told himself to make it sting a little less.

“Looks like we’ll be stuck in here for a while…” he mumbled instead. “Did they say what the issue is?”

“Some kind of power failure?” you recalled with a shrug. “It’s gonna take a while to fix, that’s the important thing. Do you think they’ll call the fire department?”

“Who knows,” Eddie sighed, leaning against the wall as you sank onto the floor and dropped your head back against the wall. “I guess we should just try to get comfortable.”

Which was easier said than done, but at least he was stuck here with you— you were generally pretty fun to talk to. Of course, you weren’t exactly in your best mood due to the circumstances…

At 8:32, Eddie checked his watch. “I’m officially late for my exam,” he noticed.

At 9, you checked your own; “And I’m officially late for work. We'll see if I even still have a job when we get out of here," you groaned. "I was on pretty thin ice already."

By 9:14, the stuffiness of the elevator was becoming harder to ignore. Eddie slipped off his jacket and vest in response to the heat, but resisted the urge to take off his Ozzy shirt. You'd seen him shirtless before, of course, but he figured out would be weirder without the right context.

"Fuck, it's hot in here," you whined quietly.

"I guess the power issue affects the A/C, huh," Eddie noticed.

"You think?" you scoffed, reaching up to unbutton the top of your shirt.

For some reason, he kinda liked when you were condescending like that; of course he loved it when you were sweet like usual, but when you got frustrated and sarcastic and looked at him like he was crazy... for whatever reason, it worked for him. And it was definitely working like never before when combined with your hasty efforts to open your shirt.

He expected you to stop after a couple buttons, but you just kept going, exposing more and more of your chest glistening with sweat. His eyes were glued to it, until you got low enough for him to see a glimpse of your bra, and he coughed as he turned his head quickly.

"Woah, hey, uh--" he stammered out awkwardly.

"Oh whatever, you've seen me in a bikini, it's the same thing," you rolled your eyes.

But it's not the same thing, because you were stripping, untucking the button-up from your tight skirt, fanning your flushed skin...

And he was tugging the crotch of his jeans down a bit when you weren't looking, trying to keep his oncoming boner from being too obvious.

Leaving your shirt open, you sighed and sat down on the floor, splaying your legs out on the ground. He could see how uncomfortable you were, and it made him press his lips together while he sighed through his nose. Though he was a little afraid you weren’t in the mood for any friendly behavior as your frustration and stir-craziness increased, he walked across the elevator and sat down next to you. “I was probably gonna flunk the test,” he decided.

“What? No you weren’t,” you scoffed. “You studied so hard! I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“Just ‘cause we’re stuck in here doesn’t mean you should get all sappy with me—” he started.

“No— ‘cause we’re stuck in here I’m not gonna put up with you trying to be down on yourself,” you decided sternly with a little glare at him. “You were gonna fucking ace it, I know you were. You worked your ass off. I know you wanted to act like you didn’t care, but you actually got your shit together and did it.”

“You… you helped me a lot,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“Please, I hardly did anything— mostly just kept you from getting too distracted,” you denied, blissfully unaware that he actually found you more distracting sometimes, but never minded it. “Can you stop being a pussy and just admit you’re actually smart, and dedicated, and more than capable of nailing this?”

He blinked quickly and looked down into his lap, feeling his face warm up— not just from the heat. How could you be so mean and nice at the same time?

“And now it’s gonna go to waste, ‘cause of this godforsaken elevator,” you sighed, dropping your head back; a pessimistic end to a pep talk, but he couldn’t blame you.

"Think of it this way: it couldn't get any worse!" Eddie offered with a faux-upbeat tone.

Right then, the lights in the elevator flickered and turned off, plunging you both into darkness. "I fucking hate you," you announced after a short silence.

He heard a whirring sound from somewhere else in the shaft, and a dimmer orange lighting came on inside the elevator; some kind of emergency back-up generator thing, probably. It was enough to see decently well, especially as his eyes started to adjust, but still made it feel like you were both in an even more perilous situation.

“I didn’t sleep enough last night,” you admitted, “I might try to catch up on that. Maybe if I can sleep this will go by faster…”

“I like that plan,” he decided, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to do the same. Eddie had a hard time keeping still and quiet, but he managed to do it so you could get your rest.

He suspected you had fallen asleep when your breathing seemed to slow down a bit— but he knew you had when you limply slumped to the side, your head gently landing on his shoulder. This happened every once in a while, a sign of how comfortable you were with him. He supposed he should be thankful for it, but sometimes it just made him furious. Because what cruel punishment was this, to have you lay on him like this when he can't put his arm around you and kiss your head and tell you how perfect you are?

The half-boner he’d wound up with earlier when you unbuttoned your shirt had never really gone away, and it noticed your proximity with renewed interest. Maybe it was just because he was so bored with literally nothing to do but think about you, but his mind kept coming up with all these fucked up ideas based on the eyeful he’d gotten.

What if you’d taken off your bra as well and let him see the tits he’d been fantasizing about for longer than he cared to admit? What if this had happened in winter instead and the elevator was brutally cold and you two had to hold your naked bodies together for warmth? What if that guy on the phone said this thing was airtight and two only had an hour to live and you decided you wanted to go out with a bang, literally?

He wondered if he’d be brave enough to tell you how he felt about you, if either or both of you only had an hour left. For better or for worse, this elevator shaft had airflow, so you were more likely to die of boredom than anything.

He shifted slightly, stuck in a somewhat awkward position, but it didn't help much— though thankfully it didn't wake you up, either. He just wished he could get some relief, somehow.

Obviously, he knew it was a bad idea. But the thing about his dick is it usually talked him into some pretty bad ideas…

He tested the waters with a whisper of your name, but you just kept breathing slowly— you were out cold. Maybe you were even more nervous for him than you'd let on, if you were that underslept.

Reaching up with his free hand, all he had to do was grip himself through his jeans to get some relief; he sighed through his nose, shutting his eyes.

His cock flexed impatiently as he unzipped the jeans as slowly as possible to avoid making too much sound. But god was it worth the wait— as soon as he slipped his hand into his boxers he had to bite his lip, it was so good just to get some attention for his poor, lonely dick.

This was far from the first time Eddie had jerked off to the thought of you. But he was sure he'd never done it while you were this close.

He did it once or twice in your bathroom while you were on the other side of the wall, that was probably the closest he'd come to this before. And that was chump change compared to this-- this was so risky it made his heart race and his hands shake with adrenaline, but it only made him more desperate for whatever reason.

He wouldn't have swiped his thumb through the precum at his slit if he had known how good it would feel— or maybe if he'd known how good it would feel, he would've been able to prepare himself for it. But the anxiety of getting caught had made him even more sensitive, so he hadn't really seen it coming, and when he did it he let out a little moan through his teeth that he couldn't stop.

You stirred again and he froze; when you lifted your head off of his shoulder, he hastily shoved himself back into his jeans, trying to cover up the open fly with the bottom of his shirt.

“Were you… jerking off?” you realized, and he felt sick with fear as his heart raced like never before.

“W-what?” he scoffed incredulously. “I— are you crazy?”

“Ed,” you warned firmly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I— sorry—”

“Are you that bored?” you mocked with a snort, and he felt even more flushed; it made his cock flex under the mediocre covering of his shirt when you degraded him like that.

“N-no— well, yeah, I just— you put your head on me and I—”

“It was because of me?” you realized, and his mouth fell open. He hadn’t realized that you hadn’t actually put that together yet; of course he’d ended up just digging himself deeper.

“W-well, uh— I mean, no, no I— well. Kind of?”

“Kind of, as in…”

“Completely,” he blurted out.

You were quiet for a long time, and he couldn’t see your face well enough to even try to guess what you were thinking. Although you probably could’ve given him a thousand guesses and he never would’ve guessed what you ended up saying: “You want some help with that?” you offered.

But before he could even answer— not that he really could, he was too busy having a short circuit in his brain— you were reaching for his lap. And even if his mind was blown, his body knew to just lift his hands up and out of the way and let you do whatever you wanted to him.

You pulled up the bottom of his shirt and sighed a little when you saw his cock, still hard and leaking and curled up against his stomach. You carefully wrapped your hand around it, and he swallowed thickly, wondering if he was dreaming or something— you were so… soft.

“Like this?” you asked gently, making his hips twitch up into your hand for a second.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded, eyes glued to the way your hand looked wrapped around him. If only the lights weren’t out, he wanted to see it even better.

He looked at your face, moving your hair a little to make sure he could see you, but from what he could tell your eyes were trained on his lap.

“Fuuuck,” he whispered when you stroked him a bit more confidently. He wanted to shut his eyes from how good it felt, but he didn’t want to look away from a moment of this in case you, you know, came to your senses and stopped.

“S’really thick,” you said, under your breath, a little bit shyly. He groaned and ran his hand over your back, trying not to do too much in case it startled you but also totally helpless to how badly he needed you. “I wonder if I can…”

You trailed off, and before he could decide if he should ask what you were going to say, you

As soon as you leaned down and put your mouth around him, his back arched and his legs kicked a bit. “Fuck, baby,” he choked out, melting into the warm feeling of your lips, your tongue— god, he couldn’t believe you were doing this to him. He actually had to fight the urge to tell you so, to admit how much he’d imagined this; he settled for whining out your name and running a hand over your hair encouragingly. “S’fucking warm, oh my god—”

You hummed around him, sucking a bit harder, swirling your tongue around the tip; who the fuck taught you that? It made his chest burn with some targetless jealousy even while it made his cock flex proudly.

Your hand still gripping the base, you took him a little bit deeper, moaning a little bit once again while you did it. No way you actually enjoyed this, right?

You pulled your head up a bit— he took his hand away quickly, not trying to hold you down or anything— and just when he wondered if you might stop, you dropped down lower so you could run your tongue up from the very bottom all the way to his leaking slit—

“Jesus,” he laughed thinly, “what are you doing to me, baby?”

“Whatever I wanna do,” you replied— if he was a little braver, he would’ve asked what made you want this, how long you wanted this— but he was more than content to let you do whatever you wanted, so far you had some pretty fucking good ideas.

Your head sank even a little bit lower, and he pushed his jeans down just a bit in case they were getting in your way. Boy, was he glad he did. “Fuck,” he gasped, watching in shock as you looked up at him while your tongue ran over his balls. “Sorry, they’re, uh, kinda sweaty…”

“Even better,” you purred; what the fuck were you doing acting so dirty like that?

“Baby,” he laughed thinly, “is this some kind of claustrophobia-induced psychosis or something? Who are you and what have you done with my prude best friend?”

“Prude? That’s unfair,” you laughed. “Just ‘cause I don’t advertise every dirty thought that goes through my mind doesn’t mean I’m not as much of a freak as you…”

“Freak is an understatement,” he sighed, struggling to keep his voice even when he was literally watching you lick all over his balls like this. “You’re a proper fucking slut.”

You hummed proudly, eyes getting a little heavier— when you looked up at him like that, he was totally helpless. “It’s slutty to wanna taste your best friend’s balls?”

“F-fuck, of course it is,” he whined, cock flexing in your hand again when you licked a stripe up between then.

“Well then yeah, guess I’m a slut,” you agreed.

“G-god, I— I’m gonna—” he tried to warn you, but it happened so fast— it happened the second you started to gently suck on his balls, in fact. What was he supposed to do when you did that?! How could he not shoot cum all over his now-definitely-ruined shirt?

“Oh shit,” you giggled— his cock was still flexing and you were already mocking him.

“What— what the fuck,” he began, trying to catch his breath, “made you wanna do that?”

But you were already straddling his lap, pulling up your skirt to your waist.

“F-fuck, baby, I— are you seriously—?”

He cut himself off and whimpered when he got a good look at your panties, the cute lacy kind— and pretty fucking soaked already.

“I-I don’t have a condom,” he warned you, cursing himself inside for finally throwing out the one in his wallet thinking he would never end up needing it.

“Don’t care,” you sighed, pulling your panties aside and guiding his tip right up to your entrance.

“Fuck, that’s—”

He was gonna say it was insanely hot, but you hardly noticed; you were already sliding down onto him, taking him in one motion right to the base.

“Oh fuck!” he nearly shouted, gripping hard onto your thighs. “F-fuck, you’re so tight, fuck…”

You started moving right away, grinding on top of him for a second before lifting your hips and bouncing up and down. “Fuck,” you sighed, “so deep…”

Was it wrong that he loved the way you were basically just using him? You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence, you didn’t ask if he could handle it right after coming— you just started riding him, and far be it from him to complain about that.

“Take this off,” he pleaded, tugging at your unbuttoned shirt and trying to push it off your shoulders.

You helped him get it off, and before you’d even tossed it off to the side he was reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. The gods of bra clasps smiled down upon him that day, because he was sure he’d never gotten one open so quickly, and if there was any time he really needed it, it was now.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he got a good look at them— not good enough in this dim orange lighting, but it would do— and instantly got a hold of your chest. You didn’t seem to mind the clammy hands, considering the way you whimpered a little and clenched inside around him. “God, baby, your tits…”

As much as he’d been waiting ages for a chance to see you naked, he couldn’t deny you looked way too good with the skirt, stockings, and heels still on. He could already tell this was going to give him a complex.

He ran a hand up your leg as you moved just to feel the silky nylon; god, he hoped you didn’t get fired for the unexplained extreme lateness, if not just for your sake then so that you would keep dressing like this every day. “So pretty,” he sighed, wondering if you could see in the dark how totally in awe he was of you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, in that way he’d always imagined you would in a time like this. Your head fell back and he couldn’t help but reach up and grab your neck— not applying much pressure, just holding you there, just admiring how goddamn perfect his hand looked wrapped around you.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Eddie sighed, “fuck, look at you go.”

You smiled a little, he could see it even with your head tilted back like that, and it was just amazing seeing you so… free? So relaxed and totally shameless, giving in to your pleasure. But it wasn’t enough: he wanted to see you lose all your composure, he wanted to hear you scream his name, he wanted to make you shake and cry and beg— that was why he grabbed a tight hold of your hips and pulled you down onto him, bucking his hips up to meet you halfway. It forced his cock even deeper and you yelped a little.

“Not too big for you, is it?” he taunted.

“No, fuck, s’perfect,” you moaned, your voice deep and rough and so fucking beautiful like this. “Fuckin’ perfect, Ed, o-oh god—”

“Keep saying my name,” he ordered.

“Eddie,” you said, again, but this time all needy and cute; it just made him fuck you harder, biting down on his lip to muffle some of his own noises— he just wanted to hear you. He pulled you down and hugged you close, keeping you still so he could fuck up into you exactly how he wanted; you moaned right by his ear, fuck it was too precious.

“I’m already close again,” he admitted with a thin laugh. “Fuck, look what you do to me.”

You whined louder, clenching on his cock— he seriously did not know how much more of this he could take.

“Wanted you so bad,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself, “wanted this for so long. Wanted to fuck you— I wanna make you come, fuck, please, please come.”

He felt you nod against his shoulder as you gasped, and he shut his eyes tight, just focusing on his movements and trying his best not to speed up too much just to chase his own high. He needed you to come more than he needed his own pleasure, even if everything in his body was screaming for a chance to come inside you. “So close,” you panted, “fuck, Eddie, don’t stop— please don’t stop— yes!”

The lights turning back on suddenly startled you both, making him freeze and look around (and squint a little from the brightness), but that was nothing compared to the shock of the doors opening. Behind them was mostly just concrete, the space between floors, but up top was about two feet of the eighth level, where a crew of firefighters could be seen peering in.

“Are they alright?” someone from the building asked as Eddie scrambled to grab his jacket from the corner and cover you up with it.

“Yeah, looks like they’re doing just fine,” one of the men announced as they broke out in surprised laughter.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #saturday night sleepover

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untoterxhund · 2 years ago

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good morning! i've woken up in a somewhat fluffy mood w/ 0 outlets for it-

#010 //: out of character.#i'll suffer i guess #i think i have stuff in the inbox that i have to get to but i'm still struggling w/ myself tbh but really wanna write #y'know that feeling? or is it just me and my short-wired brain??#anyways hope y'all have a good morning! gonna do that pre-recorded interview today at some-point. REALLY hoping to get the job though-#$22 an hour is nothing to scoff at when you don't have any degrees/credentials asides from your GED

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eechytooru · 1 year ago

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HELLO EVERYONE AGAIN

I'M HERE WITH SOME SKETCHES HEHEHEH!!! Hope y'all doing well, and drinking enough water, of course!

It was nice to draw this silly bug, I wonder if anyone will notice...

THIS THING CAME INTO MY MIND REALLY FAST as I saw the "staff only"

"I guess he's just...different"

THIS AUDIO MADE ME GO INSANE ME AND MY FRIENDS WENT FROM 😃 TO 😟

ANYWAY I really enjoyed the update

I got A LOT of content with the other neighbors, and I absolutely LOVE IT. I'll try to draw more of Howdy, Eddie, Sally and others cuz they all deserve attention for sure!!!

And I hope y'all doings well once again and have a good morning/evening/night🌸

#welcome home #welcome home wally darling #wally welcome home #wally darling #wally #welcome home wally #welcome home puppet show #welcome home barnaby #barnaby b beagle #barnaby beagle #wh wally #welcome home arg

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1-800-local-slut · 6 months ago

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Word of Advice...

Spencer Reid x Black! Fem! Pregnant! BAU! Reader

Spencer Reid Masterlist <3

Spencer and his fiancée are having a baby, and everyone has some advice for them.

I based this on JJ's pregnancy in season 4. This is basically the three times someone gave Spencer some advice about being a dad and his fiancé some advice, I cried writing this because of hormones y'all

Warnings: pregnancy, brief mention of sex, mention of a daddy kink, nothing really, fluff, twins

Request are also open if anyone wants to send anything!

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"You know, no matter how much you research it won't help when you have to actually hold the baby."

Spencer's head jerked up from his computer, no longer fidgeting with his nails and glanced over to Derek. Tabs upon tabs of information distracted him for the past hour. 'What to do as a first time dad', 'When to Start Expecting Cravings', 'How to Prevent Diaper Rash', 'Baby-proofing 101' and more.

The office buzzed softly behind him, other agents bustling around. It was a cool morning, nice and bright but had all the cold spring air Spencer had grown to love with the early call time of his job. Hotch was up in his office, Rossi was currently in the bathroom attempting to battle some sort of meal his stomach didn't agree with, Emily called in sick, JJ had a doctors appointment and wouldn't be in until later and Penelope was busying herself with some random task.

"Sorry, what?" Derek chuckled, his eyes ran over the mess on Spencer's desk. All of his case files, the parenting books he'd bought, the cups of coffee littering the area. How was this guy gonna keep his house clean with a kid running around in it?

"Morgan is right, even though he should be focused on his work. A word of advice, its good to get into the habit of picking up as you go along. Helps in the long run, you know." Hotch appeared from nowhere, in typical Hotch fashion with words of wisdom.

It was true. Spencer Reid, at the age of 27, got his girlfriend fiancée (he was still getting used to the title) pregnant. He got her pregnant, and then all the initial joy and imaginary world where everything would be perfect everything came slightly faded for him. He suddenly remembered him and his fiancée work a hard job with hard hours and an even harder toll on the mind. But he'd been trying not to focus on that, instead just trying to stay on the constant upside.

"Well yeah. I guess coffee cups all over the place aren't gonna be helpful in trying to keep the place tidy." Spencer chuckled, tapping one of the coffee cups on his desk with a random pen.

"I’ll say. You know your girl isn’t down with the nonsense, you better keep that house spick and span if you want to keep your ass clear of a beating. And if she's gonna be the one stressing with child care it'll be safer is you just stay clean and out the way.” Derek lamented. Hotch chuckled and Spencer glanced down at his hand while he grinned.

While he wouldn’t normally wear his engagement ring to work, they weren’t in the field today (hopefully) and he may have forgotten to taken it off this morning when they decided to stay in bed for an extra 45 minutes to sleep soundly. So what was the harm in wearing it? It was a little bit of his home life he would let seep into his daily life.

"Isn't it a little bit too early for you to be looking at all of this anyways? I mean I guess it's technically never too early but she's only what a month a long?" Derek asked, settling himself to sit on the corner of Spencer's desk.

Derek pushed an empty chip bag out the way, as he had settled on the one clear part of the desk. Spencer instinctively grabbed the bag and tossed it into the small trash bin he kept under his desk.

"It's never too early! I figured the better I prepare, the better I'll be able to help out when I'm home. I want to take as much paternity leave as I can, I want to be helpful when I'm home with her." He really should be attempting to clean. A stack of papers straightened, coffee cups gathered into one hand and tossed into the bin two at a time.

"Word of advice..." Hotch grimaced, as he tapped a coffee cup that sloshed and Spence had to grab to keep it from spilling all over his desk. "If you keep your desk as clean as you intend to keep your house, she'll be sending you back to work faster than you can imagine." With a ghost of a smile, Derek chuckled and ruffled Spencer's hair. Hotch smirked, seeing Spencer's mouth hanging open, and the two decided to take their leave to go back to doing the jobs they get paid so much for.

It was true, Spencer is usually a very clean guy but sometimes things get a bit messy. And usually, his fiancée wouldn't mind as long as it wasn't too outrageous but pretty soon those pregnancy hormones would come in full force. A shiver went down his spine as he imagined facing her anger at him leaving piles of books and coffee mugs all over the living room with a chubby baby sat on her hip. Picking up the last few coffee cups, Spencer straightened up his desk once more and finally tried to focus on work.

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"Morning JJ, you want some coffee?" Of course, I was joking. The joke was that JJ (who had recently returned from her maternity leave) was pleased that she could drink coffee again. If anyone bounced right back from pregnancy it was Jennifer Jareau. She looked flawless, glowing even more after her pregnancy. I can only pray to have that same miraculous recovery.

I couldn't drink coffee, the smell making me sick now. Of course I already couldn't have it, you know growing a baby, but it was far easier to resist the temptation.

A job like this has you running on caffeine, quitting cold turkey was like stopping cigarettes over night. Now I settled for some decaf tea, like peppermint or lemon and ginger.

"So, how's things going for the first term?" JJ chuckled, as I placed my spoon down on the counter and blew on the tea. This morning was some hot apple cider with cinnamon and I had a nice everything bagel on the side with some cream cheese spread over it.

"Well I've had too pee every sixty seconds, my tits are expanding with every second, and everything I eat makes me gain forty pounds thanks to bloating. So, great." The happy mood I had this morning was gone. I got to work and suddenly I wanted to put my fist through the steering wheel. And for some reason, Spencer's aftershave was making me want to cry. He just smelt so good, and he looked so good driving us to work, and lately he's just so handsome. Maybe it's knowing that we were about to have a bundle of joy?

"Mood swings getting you, huh?" JJ chuckled, turning around and heading to her desk as I followed behind.

"I'm ready to stop coming in now, I don't know how you were here up until you gave birth. You literally went into labor, I'm ready to go home now. Right now." I scoffed, and grumbled in irritation. I was even ready to stop wearing heels to work.

It felt like at any moment, I would just explode. That extra 45 minutes of sleep helped very, very little.

"Well, a word of advice, positive self talk is so helpful. I don't know why but when I was pregnant everything Will did drove me up a wall, I'm talking I wanted to take down his side of the bed only." JJ chuckled as we approached our desks. I slid into my seat, chuckling. JJ threw down her jacket, a push present from Will, and stretched.

Across the bull pen, Derek and Penelope walked past giggling about something. The two of them thick as thieves like always. The Sun had fully risen, and the world was wide awake. Cars honked outside, the team was wondering around on the floor and of course with no reason to be in the field today it was time to hunker down.

Sit down, do some paper work, the whole 9-5. I couldn't focus on the 9-5 though, hormones driving me to run into my fiancé's arms. To smell him, to hug him and remind him just how much I love him by showering him with hugs and kisses.

"How would you even take down his half?" I laughed as a blew on the cider and opening the file on my desk.

"I was looking at chainsaw's on Amazon, I had a plan I just needed to do it." JJ shrugged, opening her own case file and looking up at me through her lashes.

"Listen, my point is, you just have to try to talk to yourself. You're mind is vulnerable right now to all sorts of crazy emotions. You might suddenly hate everything about Spencer. You can randomly wake up and decide you hate him, you hate yourself, you hate the way your house looks, and that you should just take your baby and run away but you have to remember to keep yourself grounded in reality." With a soft sigh and took a sip of my tea, glancing over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't about to hear what I was about to say.

"I'm having the opposite issue with Spencer. I want to like, live in his skin." Was I ashamed to admit it? No. Was it slightly embarrassing to say it out loud? Yes.

"Oh! Okay! I mean, if that makes you happy!" It would make me very happy. Happier than this bagel was presently making me.

"No but I mean it. The mood swings will get worse as your first trimester goes on, you have no idea. Just try talking to yourself as often as possible, journal. Take care of yourself."

"Okay okay, I will. Thanks JJ, you're the best." With a shared smile, it was finally time to get some work done. Or just finish my bagel. Yeah, I'm just gonna finish my bagel.

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"No, mom you need to stay in the house. Yes, she's home with you, you will be fine. I saw my fiancée this morning, I don't miss her that badly in the two hours I've been outside. I'm at Target mom. Okay. Love you, bye mom."

Finally off the phone, Spencer slid his phone back into his back pocket. Diana was there for a visit, something she begged Spencer enough that she wore down his negotiating skills. So she got out of the ward for a fun few days.

And yes, Spencer did love the time he got to spend with his mom. He was more than happy to have her. But preparing for a baby, his fiancée either soul crushingly sad or horny or showing him things for their baby because in four months she'd be forcing it out of her body, and keeping your mom on her meds and your fiancée on her prenatal meds...sometimes a man needed to go to Target.

Sometimes a man needed to make breakfast, intentionally finish the milk and eggs, and suddenly have other errands that needed to be run outside.

Pushing through the aisles of Target, they all blended together. Everything just seemed crazy now. His fiancée was pregnant. She was pregnant, and their baby was coming in four months. She was nesting now, according to JJ.

When they found out she was pregnant she remained logical. She mapped out each important date, each doctors appointment, and left major shopping for a bit later. Spencer was the one buying mountains of books, crying over the minuscule things. Now though, she was crying over the little things, waking up with insane cravings (his favorite one to be woken up at 2:47 in the morning over? Buffalo sauce. Not like, buffalo wings. Buffalo sauce by itself but it needed to be hot and in a bowl and when Spencer protested she looked ready to rip him in two), and each day was filled with 'Spencer look at this, Spencer we need this, Spencer we HAVE to have this for our baby or we're shitty parents, Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.'

He was in heaven.

His wife couldn't get enough of him, literally sniffing him like he was a big ass pile of coke, his mom was over, it was almost time for their gender reveal (which Emily and Rossi somehow ended up in charge of planning but whatever), and he would be a literal daddy. Not in the sense that she called him but in the actual way.

Without even realizing it, he was in the baby section. His feet basically dragged him there. There was a little onesie, which would be the perfect size for his baby, a pair of baby booties randomly placed near by. But the couple made a promise to themselves, they wouldn't buy anything without each other unless they literally had to have it for their baby. Like the really cute onesie that Spencer found with a little 'R' on the front. 'R' for Reid. Soon they'd be Mr. and Mrs. Reid. Their baby's last name would be Reid.

His fingers ran over the soft cotton fabric of a pink onesie, that had the cutest little flowers stitched on the toes. He pictured it for a moment, a little chunky light skinned baby with curly hair and dark eyes. Brown eyes and chubby cheeks for his/her mommy and daddy to bombard with kisses.

With soft little fingers and little toes. With big eyes filled with innocence that was Spencer's job to guard, that he already knew he'd lay his life down to protect in a heart beat. A baby with a tiny heart beat that he'd be honored to hold. His baby. Their baby together that they made together.

Spencer didn't know when he started moving again, or when he weaved through the groups of people making their way around Target, but he was now on his way to the front and suddenly stopped in front of the cribs.

A large wooden crib with pretty little birds carved into the side. A mobile hung over the soft insides. There were some pillows inside and a mattress inside that looked nice and soft. On the left of it, a white crib, nothing on it but it looked nice and sturdy. And he knew they could probably find some nice designs to put all over the sides.

"First time?" A deep, scratchy voice pulled Spencer from his thoughts. It was an older man maybe 15-20 years older, with his wife standing close to him. Their cart was filled with toys and an abundance of blue. Blue onesies, blue bottles, blue pacifiers, blue toys, blue bibs, blue blankets, blue teething rings. If it was blue, it was in the cart. Clearly not their first time.

"Yeah. I mean, yes, my fiancée. She's pregnant." The smile and blush of happiness that came whenever Spencer told anyone came back. Heat filled his face with joy. Not nerves or anything just pure joy. He wished she was there with him. He wished she was with him looking at the cribs and holding his hand while they looked around. The couple chuckled at how pink he got before the wife began to speak.

"Word of advice, crib shopping without her is a good way to start a war. If he went crib shopping without me for out first I would've murdered him." People say such crazy shit when they don't know you're in law enforcement. Spencer knew she was kidding and couldn't care less but sometimes he wondered how different everyone around him would act if they knew he was FBI.

At work, when he walked onto a scene wearing that jacket with the letters big yellows letters on the back people steered just a bit more clear of him. I mean the FBI is literally the FBI. If he was a normal ass cop he'd be a bit intimidated as well.

"Don't worry, I'm sure she'd do the same thing. I'm just looking right now though. I don't want to do any part of this without her." Spencer would never be this open with strangers but some strange part of him, maybe the part that wished he had grandparents, had him telling this couple with kind eyes. And he of all people knew not to judge a book by its cover. Sometimes it was the nicest looking people who committed the most vile crimes.

"Oh, sometimes you'll have too. Of course, you would never make that choice but take it from 40 years of marriage and 38 years of parenting: sometimes you have to make the calls on your own. It doesn't seem likely now, but as a father you may have to make the best call for your child if your partner is unable to make any sort of choice." Huh.

He never thought about that. Well he should've. He's seen marriages torn apart (usually by the most stressful situation possible, your child being kidnapped or murdered or something) because of one parents choice. Usually it being glancing away for one second. But what if his kid needs something while she's out cold? Maybe she's fast asleep and his kid wants to go outside or something. God forbid it's something far more serious, Spencer would have to make a choice.

Maybe. Who knows. But it was true. Sometimes, Spencer would need to make a choice on his own. And although they promised to make any and all big choices together smaller things would require an adults attention.

The realization was too clear on his face because the man chuckled.

"I'm Clive and this is Judy, it was lovely to meet you young man." He extended a hand, and Spencer took it, returning the firm handshake.

"Spencer. It was nice to meet you too. Thank you for the advice."

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Music was one of the most emotional things in the world. It connected people, spoke to people, saved people. Right now it was destroying me. Right now, I could only hear my heart beat and the Billy Joel song that was wearing me down. The song had me in tears.

I was sitting at our bay window, Diana was watching Judge Judy and sitting calmly after she took her medication this morning with her breakfast. I had a blanket thrown over my legs, a pillow behind my back and my headphones strapped over my ears. She was softly breathing, clutching a pillow to her chest and fidgeting with the soft fringes around the edges of the pillow. From here, she looked a bit like Spencer, eyes focused on the screen with her head tilted slightly to the side. How much would our baby look my me? Or Spencer? Or even Diana, maybe his father or my parents? Anything was possible.

The soft rain pitter-pattered on the window and it just added to my mood. Was I sad? Was I happy? Bitter-sweet was the right word. How would I feel as our child grew before my very eyes? As I watched my baby get bigger with each passing moment? Before eventually they stood on their own two feet and walked completely on their own? I whimpered, an ache in my chest. Each day would be a beautiful reminder of what was to come.

I tried my hardest to keep it down, lest I bother my baby's grandmother. Oh god, grandmother. Diana would be a grandmother. The dam broke all over again and I buried my face in the sheet that was thrown over my knees

"A word of advice," I perked up when Diana's voice added to the mix of music, muffled sobbing and Judge Judy screaming at some random lady.

"When I was pregnant with Spencer, I was all over the place. I kept it to myself, I felt alone. I felt that because I was off my medication my feelings weren't normal but they completely are. Keeping my feelings inside, that turned into stress. Then resentment. For myself, for my husband and sadly for Spencer. Try talking to Spencer about your issues instead of letting them fester."

She read me like a book, what the fuck. Okay I hadn't been the most inconspicuous with my crying BUT dang I wasn't expecting that. I was actually planning to go into the bathroom because I didn't intend to disturb her. Something about being and FBI agent meant emotional constipation. Therefore, I didn't want to talk about my feelings on a deep level, and I did not want a whole thing to be made of it.

But Diana didn't look at me. She didn't turn around and look at me with pity or understanding, she didn't stand up and attempt to hug me, she didn't try questioning me on what was wrong. She just said it. She said it, blue eyes trained onto the TV as a commercial for mesothelioma played. I did my best to wipe tears from my eyes, and from down my face. Perhaps it was time to do away with the music. But in a way, I didn't want this feeling to end. I wanted to feeling to stay. The bitter-sweet feeling washing over me like a blanket. My heart hurt in the best possible way.

"Thank you Diana. I'm not upset, just...feeling things." With a chuckle as I wiped my eyes rubbed my no doubt puffy eyes.

"Well. As long as you're feeling something." Her eyes glued to the TV screen as Judge Judy came back on.

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"Hi everyone, thank you for coming. I just wanted to say thank you for coming to our lovely couples baby shower, Lord knows we all expected to be here sooner." Derek chuckled, raising his ginger ale to us, as we sat perched on the couch next to Rossi's pool. Chuckles and laughter went up all around us, Spencer laughed into his Pepsi. His smile lines crinkled under his sun glasses. God, he just looked kissed by the Sun. God (if there was one) took his time. He took his sweet ass time sculpting each little crease, crinkle, each hair on his head. And it truly paid off.

"Now, if the parents will just come to the front, we'll have them figure out the gender." Finally, Jesus. I loved Derek. I do! But my God could the man talk. And talk. Then talk some more. Maybe it was just the heat bothering me.

It was a sunny day, not too hot though just hot enough to annoy me. People in pink and blue bathing wandered around, Hotch was lounging in his blue swim trunks, Jack standing next to his dad and asking him a stream of questions (he was in that stage) had a the funniest amount of hot pink I've ever seen a child have on.

The wind gave a gentle breeze that offered slight reprieve from the heat as JJ and Will sipped virgin pina coladas from fun sippy cups in their matching pink swim suits. Henry was left with the rest of the kids in the play area with the baby sitters (the same company I planned on using for our wedding) and he arrived in a precious little pink ensemble with pink little sunglasses and sun hat.

And Penny, who could ever forget the darling Penny, who was coming back from the bathroom, with pink hair dye and basically everything else on her body. Even pink eyeshadow. I felt put to shame, thinking my all pink get up was a lot. Spencer had on a blue buttoned up shirt only for the sake of possible opposing sides.

Emily and Rossi (the only people who knew the gender) both wore black swim suits as they sat at the bar. Both giving us no clues at all to the babies gender. Honestly, this entire thing was a bit too big for a regular baby shower.

But we weren't setting any forest fires. Just spending a lot of money on our first child. And with the money we make, of course our children would be pampered each step of the way. No expense needed to be spared. And Spencer, easy going as it is, allowed me to handle the planning for our baby shower (as much as Emily and David allowed me) along with planning our wedding.

The bar, custom drink menu I created, the baby sitting company for all of our friends to bring their kids (honestly this is a small practice run for our wedding), catering company, the pool toys, the kiddie pool Rossi let us set up, and the goodie bags. And Spencer showed up, looking perfect as usual.

Rising to his feet, Spencer gave me a hand and pulled me up from my seat. We waddled (I waddled, Spencer pushed through the small crowd) through the waves of folks who came to see us today (or just came for free food) and eventually climbed to the front.

Looking out at the sea of faces, I almost cried again. I felt Emily place a palm on my shoulder and I wiped my tears before they could fall down. She handed Spencer and I both ice picks, Rossi directing the videographer and the photographer (a personal gift from him). Two black balloons, held in place by David and Emily.

Two black balloons that held out entire future. Two black balloons meant more to me than I thought was humanly possible. My heart beat pounded, as Derek said something about a countdown. The crowd began counting down from ten, as if a countdown was enough for the most important moment of my life, my hands getting sweatier by the moment. Spencer gripped my hand and I glanced over.

Ten...

And I realized then Spencer was terrified as I was.

Nine...

But we were terrified together.

Eight...

And we'd feel everything together from the moment this baby came

Seven...

No matter what happened, no matter how many faces we saw before us right now, it was Spencer and me, and our baby. And maybe one day, more of our babies.

Six...

My soon to be husband, and my child. My eyes welled up again, and Derek made a joke about mom crying early. I'd have to curse him later for being so funny. Our little family was no longer just him, I, Diana and my parents, who were in matching blue outfits watching in anticipation.

Five...

My tears and heart beat combined sounded like the ocean thrumming in my ears and Spencer chuckled nervously and stared down at his flip flops.

Four...

Almost...

Three...

Almost right at my future, the rest of my life.

Two...

Jesus just get to one!

One...

I nearly froze from fear but pushed the ice pick into the balloon, and a sprinkle of pink fell over me. I screamed, my heart soared and I jumped onto Spencer with joy and people clapped an cheered. My mom screamed, literally sobbing as she fell to her knees.

A girl. A girl, to love, and care for, and teach. I wouldn't have cared, either way I wasn't worried but I had always wanted a baby. To have a girl. To love a daughter was truly a gift.

Spencer stood stalk still, like he was a statue and he a terrified grin crossed his face. I saw Rossi nod as Derek chuckled. There was a man holding up a sign, right in front of us with a giant '2' written in pink. Right in front of Spencer, no matter he saw it first.

"Uh oh, Dad's looking a bit- oh my god, oh my god!" And Spencer was flying backwards into Hotch and Rossi.

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"Oh, you can see him start to look a bit pale right there." Penelope narrated to his mother, who they were showing the video too on face time. Spencer was now sitting up right on the living room couch and sipping a ginger ale with trembling hands.

Spencer Reid was having twins. Could his life get any better? What did he ever do to deserve this much happiness? His head hurt just a bit, mainly from when he slipped off the couch after being set down and cracking his head on the floor but this was really happening. It was real.

Suddenly he felt a familiar presence. There she was holding two of his children inside of her and staring up at him with the most gorgeous eyes. She was gorgeous, even more so with the knowledge he had now, and he didn't even know it was possible.

He couldn't help himself, the tears filling his eyes as his mother and Penelope suddenly ended the call and she excused herself gracefully (the internet in the home was shitty, so she'd probably be calling back within the hour) and now he felt tears rushing down his face. She smiled at him, so softly that he couldn't even speak.

"I love you." She whispered as she drew her face closer to his and pressed a kiss onto his forehead.

"I love you too. And I love them." The words whispered, just for the two of them.

Well. The four of them.

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The end! I cried a lot during this for no reason lol. I literally bawled my eyes out, I'm suffering from massive baby fever. Anyways, I hope you all like this one <3

#black reader #x reader #x black reader #fem reader #multifandom account #criminal minds #requests open #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #bau team #pregnancy #masterlist #aaron hotchner is a sweetie #the bau being nosy #spencer reid #my man my man my man #live laugh love spencer reid

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etfrin · 9 months ago

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | canon typical violence, cunnilingus, Coriolanus Snow, cumming untouched | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus Snow gets punished and then he gets himself a reward

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 so here's another update guys! I hope y'all will like it! Thank you!

beta read by my darling 😽 @nowitsmissing

masterlist | navigation | taglist

Coriolanus didn't know what to expect from you. You were beyond his logic. He liked that about you, but he couldn't help but get paranoid because of it. So many truths were revealed yesterday. His love for you confessed shamelessly, horribly. He had expected it to be romantic, it was raw and monstrous.

Not a tale they could tell their future children.

But it was on brand for them, he knew. He couldn't expect anything less. Snow already felt himself going half insane with the punishment you said you'd give him. He couldn't bear guessing, knowing that you'd prove him wrong anyway.

Then he realized… you hadn't spoken a word to him since this morning. Not a word, not a single glance, nothing… Much like his reaction when he saw you yesterday. His face was blank, he kept quiet until he was alone with you.

Was the punishment silent treatment?

Huh… it's not the worst.

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He lied.

It was much, much, worse. Coriolanus Snow wasn't a jealous man. He simply thought that some people were worthy of more, and he is those people. And therefore, only he is worthy of the teasing smile you were giving to some of the Peacekeepers! They were worthless. You have his name carved on your skin, he was disgusted by the expression you were giving them.

Maybe, he was overreacting, but he saw no need to be this friendly with them. However, he knew a logical sense that being on their good side especially while staying in the district is important. That doesn't mean you have to smile at them, pay attention to them, and converse with them!

You were driving him insane.

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Sejanus was getting attention from you, but not him? This wasn't punishment any longer, it was torture. Sejanus asked you about why you didn't reply to his letters. It wasn't a lie when you said you didn't receive them. And Sejanus believed you easily enough, his attention more directed in showing his gratefulness when you pulled out some of his old books.

Your ma gave them to me, you had said.

Coriolanus believed it. He wondered if Tigris gave anything of his to you, he wondered if you were still connected to his family the way you were with Sejanus.

Coriolanus Snow wanted you to be a part of his family, he wanted you to be closer to his grandma’am than Sejanus Ma.

He revisited the letters from Tigris, and there wasn't a single mention of you. But he had found out they had lost the damn penthouse, however they had enough for food and other necessities through Tigris. It was thanks to the small business she had managed to stand up after she had designed clothes for you.

He didn't try to suppress the guilt he felt as he found out about this right now when it was addressed weeks ago. Coriolanus slowly but surely replied to each letter of Tigris individually. It took all night, but Tigris was family. She didn't abandon him and Coriolanus will be damned before he does the same.

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Coriolanus' jaw was bruised from the punch he had taken. It wasn't his fault, really, getting into a fight with his fellow Peacekeepers. He was frustrated, he wondered just how long you'd keep this stupid, childish behavior up.

He punched back, and he was sure that he had broken the jaw of his opponent. He built up much-needed strength after being here for months after all. It was a silly fight. The boys were talking about you. It was typical of men, but with how quickly the words turned crude he didn't tolerate another word.

He was quick to punch the man that started it and surprisingly Sejanus didn't play the mediator for once. The Plinth boy joined in, helping Sejanus beat up the man. They both got a punishment from Commander Hoff.

It was worth it.

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Coriolanus couldn't take it anymore. It had been days. Specifically, 96 hours to be exact. Not that he was counting or anything. He marched you to your room, he even knocked.

He received no answer. He lets out a sigh, knocking till his knuckles hurt. “Come on,” he said, knowing you will be able to hear his voice. “Open the door,” he commanded.

You didn't open the door.

“Open the door,” he said, his tone softer.

Nothing. He couldn't hear anything from your side either.

Then he lets out a shaky breath, his palm pressed on the wood. “Please, please, please,” he begs, his voice low, “please, please…”

Nothing.

Finally, he tried the doorknob, ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes. He was breaking down, and the room was empty. You weren't even here.

He may or may not have cried.

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After Coriolanus had showered, he learned that you and Sejanus were at The Hob. The Peacekeepers were given the day off, and while he spent it crying inside of your room, you were having fun. That's fucking enough.

Snow couldn't take it anymore.

When he went there, he could see Lucy Gray and several others performing a song. Another day, he would enjoy it, but it was different because he couldn't find you in the crowd and he grew agitated.

His eyes were red, his jaw bruised purple-blue. It hurt, even after the cold shower. But it didn't matter. He will have you look at him tonight. He will have you speak to him. The world be damned. Coriolanus is much more fucking significant.

Wasn't he?

Coryo pushes through the crowd to find himself at the corner of the warehouse The Hob was in. He stopped as he saw you leaning on the wall. You weren't alone. But you weren't with Sejanus or any other Peacekeepers.

You were with Billy Taupe, Lucy Gray's infamous ex and the boyfriend of the mayor's daughter.

You were smiling at him, both of you were so incredibly close to each other that Coriolanus wanted to tear distance between the both of you. Coriolanus could hear the thump of his heartbeat, every other sound quiet in his mind as he walked towards the both of you.

He catches you and he sees your lips form a smirk, as you pull Billy Taupe closer. And closer. Oh, fuck no. He reaches at the right time, pulling him off you and pinning him to a wall.

“That's my girl, motherfucker,” he growls.

He throws the boy on the floor, gathering the attention of several around him. Snow didn't care, he was seeing red. He was beyond pissed. He was seething. He vaguely noticed that the music had stopped as he straddled Billy Taupe, pinning him to the ground with his hand on the shoulder. He used his free hand to repeat punches, again and again until his knuckles were more red than anything.

Coriolanus could hear the screaming of Billy. He heard the cries of Maudy Ivory; he heard the plea in Sejanus' voice as he begged him to stop. Sejanus and a few others tried but couldn't get him off, he was feral. He was going to kill Billy Taupe. He was going to enjoy it.

“Coryo, stop.”

He stills. Of course, he does.

Anything for his love.

“Get off.”

He obeys, his chest rising up and down as he turns towards you. He offered you his hand, not caring that blood was dripping off of it. You take it, intertwining his fingers with yours. Smearing the blood on your skin, taking half the blame for it in the metaphorical sense. Coriolanus was glad he wasn't alone anymore.

He couldn't survive being alone.

You take the lead as both of you walk away from the scene. None of the spectators dare to stop you. Coriolanus and you walk, it's dark and no one can see as tears fall from his eyes again. The saltiness in the air could easily be mistaken that it is due to the blood.

If you hear him sniff, you don't say anything. He is grateful for that. Soon, both of you reach the room you were staying in. You walk in, still holding Snow's hand. Coriolanus follows you without a question.

He lets go of your hand. He gets on both of his knees, he gasps, more tears falling from his eyes. He looks up at you and sees you looking down at him. The only light was from the moon coming through the window in the corner. You were being showered in it.

“Never again,” he whispered, his voice raspy.

More tears fall. He can't help it. He's so overwhelmed by the anger of what you did and the attention you were finally giving him.

“Never again what?” You demanded.

He tries to swallow his pride away. Besides you, it was the only thing he had left. He can't do it. He can't so he looks away. What was he supposed to say? ‘I'll never misbehave?’ He wasn't a dog in training. He's not supposed to bark when you ask him. Yet he was. It was humiliating being stripped like this. And you didn't even ask for it, he volunteered because there was no other choice.

“Tell me what you won't do again. You'll never punch Billy? You'll never choke me? You'll never kiss another girl?”

No, no, and yes.

“I wo- won't ever kiss anyone except you.”

“Good…” You clearly expected a sorry but Coriolanus couldn't give it to you. ‘Just forgive me,’ he wanted to yell. Instead, he gets up and walks towards your table. He opened the drawer to take out a knife. The same knife he had used to carve his initials on your skin.

“Not today,” you said before he could press the sharp edge on his skin.

“Why?” He said shocked, more tears burned his eyes. Wasn't he forgiven? Wasn't this enough?

“Just…” you walked towards him, pressing him onto the wood and taking the knife from his hand. You place it on the table before your hand gently holds his jaw. You tilt his head to look at the bruise on his face. “You're hurt enough for today.”

“Then give me something else,” he said.

“What?”

“Your taste.”

It took you a moment to understand what he meant. When you did, your eyes went wide and your breaths fastened. He certainly enjoyed the reaction that meant a yes. He still waited for a verbal answer before he took any action.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He quickly switches places with you before he guides you to the bed and makes you sit down on it. You follow his lead. Coriolanus gets on his knees again. This time to make you scream his name.

He takes off your black stockings with great care. Make sure not to cause an accidental tear on the delicate fabric. He even takes off your heels. You raise your hips so your skirt and panties can slide down past your legs and onto the floor.

He breathes in much-needed air to calm his heartbreak as he takes in the view in front of him. He dreamed of this for so many nights that it didn't feel real. He parts your legs with his hands, creating space between your thighs. He leans in, caging himself. If he dies from suffocation, then he dies happy.

He felt your hand on his buzzcut, your nails gently scratching his scalp. He lets out a whine, his nose pressed to your thigh. He breathes in the scent of your arousal and lets out a groan. Coriolanus could feel his pants getting tight.

Snow closes the gap between your wet pussy and his tongue with a slow, languid lick. You moan above him, already sensitive. He sees your cunt clenching around nothing. He sharpened his tongue and pressed the tip to your leaking slit. Up, and down he moves the wet muscle, his tongue sliding inside of you and you encourage this action with your thighs tightening around his head.

He digs into his meal, letting his tongue wander all over your sloppy, wet cunt with wonder. He moans as your juices coat his tongue. He loves the taste of you. He knew he would find himself addicted to this. He finds something like a bud as his tongue wanders. When he flicks it, you cry out of pleasure. So he lets his tongue work, his hands on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh.

He flicks the pearl with the tip of his tongue again and again, until he knows it's swollen. Then he takes the bud in his mouth and sucks, it was too rough. He knew because you cried out, your hips pushing up and he had to press you down.

“Coryo!” You cry out and he lets your clit pop out of his mouth. He kisses the swollen, abused, and oversensitive bud before he returns attention to your folds. He broadly licks making sure to have all of your arousal on his tongue only, he didn't want to miss a single drop.

He snakes in a hand between your legs, his thumb finding your clit. He used his other hand to make sure your leg was spread wide and nice for him to feast. He pressed into the bud with the pad of his finger. The pressure gives you pure bliss in your veins. He feels your pussy clench again, oozing out more arousal. He licks it all up, his tongue fucking into your walls. His thumb begins to draw rough circles on your swollen clit. You whimper and whine.

The sounds are music to his ears. Quickly enough you begin to warn him, “Gonna cum, Coryo!” He only fastens his actions, getting rougher, sloppier and so much more needy to have you cum on his damn face. ‘Cum, cum, cum,’ he chants in his head, utterly and pathetically desperate for you.

You scream out his name, the coil in your tummy snapping as your pussy spasms and cum all over his face. His tongue slows down, leisurely tasting your release. You have to push him away when he doesn't stop and you could feel yourself getting tired. Your bones turn to jelly.

Coriolanus leans back, wiping his mouth. He looks down at his pants and frowns as he sees a wet spot on his pants. That explains the relief he felt. He had come inside of his pants. He doesn't let the embarrassment take him over. It was too dark to see anything after all.

He stands up and sees you all crossed-eyed. He grins, and he gently pats your cheek trying to get you to your senses. “Bye, dove,” he whispered with a smirk.

As he walks down the hallway he wonders who truly won this round.

After all, he was the one who got what he wanted and you gave it to him just like that.

NEXT PART

496 notes · View notes

macfrog · 1 year ago

Text

ride it, cowgirl cowboy like me chapter ten

hey dudes. anyone up for some dbf? i seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the love y'all show this series. blows my mind every time. i have been super excited for this chapter for a WHILE. might be my fave so far. who knows. you can grab chapters 1-9 on my masterlist and also my ao3 if ur feeling fancy. love u all sm!!!!!! ✨💘💫

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel picks you up from a girls’ night. you’ve plans for when you get home

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader isn't an astrology girlie (sorry), more pining beCAUSE, alcohol consumption + a mention of the devil’s lettuce, very quick bit of unwanted touching, even quicker bit of protective joel, soft!joel, softdom!joel, one tiny mention of daddy, protected piv sex this time (feeling conservative slutty max will return), reader rides him into the sunset, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand. His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper. “There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

You never believed much in the power of the universe. Astrology, moons, manifestation. Whatever. None of it ever really meant much to you. You knew your star sign, knew which cool little symbol resembled you, and that was about it. Everything past that was…confusing and, frankly, a little overwhelming.

However.

If the universe were to send you a sign, one huge, fluorescent, multi-colored, in-your-face sign, that it was on your side…this weekend might just be it.

Your dad’s downstairs, finishing up packing for his work trip. His departure is imminent. Sarah’s been in Nashville since last night. A series of texts she sent you at 3AM riddled with spelling errors and heart emojis tell you she’s been having a pretty good time so far.

You are Joel are…alone. All by yourselves. For a whole…twenty hours.

Can’t have it all, I guess.

Your eyes skim down the texts you sent him this morning, texts he is yet to reply to.

You: Merry Christmas!!!

You took his non-reply for confusion – he is almost fifty, maybe he doesn’t get the joke? It’s a pretty lame joke, anyways. Very lame. If your thumb hovers over the send button before you press it, it’s probably not that great a joke. And your thumb had most definitely hovered. So, you’d followed it up.

You: As in, today’s the day

You: I don’t mean it’s actually Christmas

You: I mean like, happy ‘we’re finally gonna be alone again’ day

You: Never mind

“Hello?” Anna’s voice cuts through your train of thought. “Are you even listening to me?”

You drop your phone, shaking your head clear of Joel. “Yep. Sorry. Just didn’t catch that last part. You froze.”

The image of her on your – pretty fucking dusty – laptop screen rolls its eyes, knowing you’re lying. “I don’t know whether to go with the pink or the black boots,” she says.

“Ain’t your dress yellow?”

Her head falls into her hands. She throws herself down onto her bed and slides her laptop closer. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I’m goin’ with the pink strappy one now.”

“Pink does say rodeo.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps through a giggle. “Remind me what you’re wearin’, again.”

“Black hat, black boots, black dress.”

“You’re so boring.”

“Thanks. Really looking forward to our night out.”

Anna snorts and then stands back up, strides over to her closet and resumes rummaging. “Black jacket, too?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uhuh,” you reply, glancing back down to your phone. “Although – it has rhinestones. And tassels. Not so boring after all, huh?”

Anna’s silence drags your eyes from the text thread back to your laptop screen. She’s frozen in place, twisted around with a dress in her hands, jaw on the floor. “Show it to me. Now.”

“Hold on,” you roll over and off your bed, your shoulder stiff from the position you’d been lying in, “I think I left it downstairs.”

“Tell your dad I say hey!”

You pad down the carpeted stairs in your socks, toward the sunlit hallway.

“Dad, have you seen my– Oh, fuck.”

As you round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over your left shoulder to the front door, your chest knocks into something hard. Steady. Strong.

Something you recognize the feel of before you’ve given him a proper look.

“Mind your step, baby,” Joel says, and your heart leaps.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” you whisper, peering around his body to look for your dad.

“He’s out front,” Joel tells you, then takes your shoulder and reels you in against his chest. “’m just here to help ‘im with his GPS.”

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. Your head rests safely on his chest, arms link at his back. If you didn’t have plans tonight, and if your dad wasn’t, like, ten feet from you guys right now, you’d never let him go. Just follow him around, vice grip around his waist, surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

Not that that means anything. You’d do other stuff, too. You’re not…you know.

Your dad’s voice streams in through the open door and Joel releases you.

“It ain’t for workin’, Joel, I’m about to throw it at the f– Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey. What’s the matter with your GPS?”

You lean in to the tiny device in his hands. Joel’s elbow comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“Just won’t connect to the car. Every time I plug it in, it just…” He lifts his hands, screen loose in his fingers, and hands you a bewildered look.

You look at him, expressionless. “Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“Because I paid almost a hundred bucks for this thing, and I’ll be damned if I’m– Alright,” he stops himself, eyes shutting in exasperation, “I already explained this to him. I ain’t justifyin’ myself to the two of you.”

Joel’s laughing behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose when your dad stalks off to the kitchen and throws the device down, snatching the instructions off the table.

The pair of you follow, both still trying to swallow your laughter. Joel wanders around the table and sits down beside your dad, fumbling with the screen. You dive into the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and fish out your bejeweled, tasseled jacket.

“You lookin’ forward to your girls’ night?” Joel asks, eyes flitting up and down the leather jacket in your hands.

“Mhm,” you reply, opening your mouth to continue when your dad butts in.

“S’posed to be a girls’ night, but that boy Sam’s crashin’ it, ain’t he?”

“Well, we asked him.” You shrug. “It’s his night off.”

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head to Joel, who looks up to you with a confused expression. “’s the big deal with that?”

“Oh, wise up, Miller. He’s only goin’ ‘cause of…” He wags a finger in your direction, and a smirk peels across Joel’s lips.

“Is he, now?”

“Uhuh,” your dad replies, intense stare still on the instructions in front of him. “Makes no damn sense. I plugged it in using the cable they gave me in the box. Stupid thing…”

You shake your head to Joel, who’s still looking at you, bemused. He knows you and Sam are just friends. Also knows your dad is the most oblivious theorist to walk the planet. Just aiming his gun at the wrong target, is all.

“I’m gonna let you two get back to…that,” you say, turning to head back upstairs. “Anna says hi, by the way.”

Your dad’s eyebrows rise once, his eyes never lifting from his GPS. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey, Anna,” Joel echoes, smirk on his lips.

“Not to you,” you throw back, hopping up the first step. You hear his chuckle as you disappear.

----------

Anna’s reaction to your jacket in person matches that over Facetime: a deafening squeal. A squeal which she repeats almost every damn time she sees you throughout the night.

“So – fucking – cute!” she exclaims for the fifth time, fingers dancing through the tassels. “And it goes so well with your hat.”

You sip on your cocktail, nodding enthusiastically, pushing your eyebrows up underneath the brim of the black cowgirl hat on your head. Trying to match her energy. Your mind’s elsewhere.

Joel texted you a few hours ago. Told you to have a good night, said something about Sam, but you were stood right next to the dude, so you quickly locked your phone and slipped it back into your clutch.

Now, standing with your back against the wall of Franks, watching Sam play pool with Eve, you feel safe enough to read over the message.

Joel: Have fun baby. Be safe. Tell Sam good luck from me.

You squint at the screen, pulling it away from your face and leaning back in to read it over. Good luck? The fuck does he mean –

You: Good luck??

He replies almost instantly.

Joel: Yeah. Good luck winning you over. Took me, what, a week?

Oh, fuck off. You roll your eyes and throw your phone facedown onto the table where Anna and Kara sit, about twenty minutes deep into a conversation you missed the beginning of.

Your attention turns to the room before you – brick-walled, metal dome lightshades hanging over each pool table. Glass-paneled door to your left leading back through to the main bar. For being a tiny bar on a backstreet, Frank’s is pretty lively. There are bodies everywhere, bumping by each other, drunken arms slung over shoulders, hips swaying with the soft rock song blasting from out front.

You imagine your dad here with Joel, maybe Hank and Bill, too. Playing pool, beer bottles resting on the felt while they take their shot. Or sat on the rooftop, sipping on a whiskey. Talking about you and Sarah. What does Joel say about you when you’re not around?

And what does he want to say, but can’t, ‘cause it’s your dad? What does he think, and bite back when it bubbles to the surface?

Your straw gargles, slurping up the last few sips of your drink. You lean over to Anna and Kara, holding your empty glass up.

“Another?”

They both shake their heads, and you nod, turning on your own back to the bar.

You squeeze between two older women, both dressed smart and sharp. One of them – clutching a Manhattan – shifts out of the way as you pass.

“…one more conversation with him about squash,” she tells her companion, “and I am gonna blow my brains out…”

You edge over to the bar and slot into a free space, propping your elbows up on the wood. One of Sam’s coworkers – her name escapes you – notices you and shuffles over, smiling sweetly.

“How you doin’?” she asks, running a damp cloth inside a tumbler.

“Good,” you reply. “Could I just get a Bud, please?”

“Sure thing,” she says, and reaches behind to grab one. You slide her a note and she hands you change, and then you’re on your way back to the pool room.

As you slink by the two women, a weight knocks into your shoulder, almost sending your beer flying out of your hand.

“Sorry,” a rough voice sputters on your left, and you glance in its direction. Some broad dude in a tight t-shirt.

“’s fine,” you mumble, clutching your hat; a smell of weed choking your throat.

He passes by behind you, one hand lingering a little too long on your waist, and you saunter back over to Anna and Kara.

“That dude stinks, right?” Anna whispers behind a cupped hand, and you snort.

“He smells like he’s having a good night.”

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet over there. We’re basically third, fourth, and fifth wheeling,” Kara says, nodding over to Sam and Eve, who’re finished their game of pool and have now graduated to darts.

“I don’t…think that’s a thing.”

“Eve asked me if Sam was single earlier,” Anna says, lifting her straw to her red lips.

“What?” Kara spits out, choking on her drink. “Eve has a boyfriend!”

Anna giggles. “He’s kinda an ass, anyway. Look at them, they’re so sweet.”

“You say sweet, I hear morally wrong.”

“Who says it’s morally wrong?” you chirp, alcohol pushing the words over your lips before your brain’s had time to stop them. Your fingers clutch your phone, still laying on the table where you left it. “You?”

“Uh, it’s cheating, dude. What if Nick found out?”

“’s not that big a deal,” you reply, phone screen lighting your face in a blue hue, “they’re just having fun.”

Anna points to you, lifting her glass. “Here’s to havin’ fun, I guess.”

Kara lifts her own reluctantly and they clink, but you’re distracted. Already typing a message to Joel. Bored. Drunk. Morally wrong.

You: What you doing?

Joel: Watching TV. What you doing?

You: What ya watvhin ?

Joel: None of your business. Go get another drink. Looks like you’re not drunk enough.

You lift your head with a giggle, almost ready to turn your phone around to Anna and Kara and say, look what the dude I’m sleeping with just text me. And then, thankfully, your good sense kicks in and you bring the screen closer to your chest.

You: Kinda bored. Wanna come home now please

Bored, horny. It all means the same.

Joel says he’ll be at Frank’s in twenty minutes. You rest your chin on your palm and watch as Sam cheers Eve for hitting bullseye.

“I think they’re cute,” you whisper.

Anna and Kara are already preoccupied, taking photos of one another across the table. Kara leans into you and you smile, flash blinding your hazy eyes for a few minutes afterward. A few more pictures, couple boomerangs of your glasses cheersing, and then your phone’s vibrating.

Joel: Outside. No rush.

That last part is where he’s wrong. There most definitely is a rush, and it’s in the form of the heat that starts to pool between your legs.

“Alright,” you shimmy off your barstool and stretch your back. “My ride’s here.”

“What?” Anna almost screams, her hand slapping down on the table. “You’re leavin’?”

You nod. “Sorry, babe.”

“Don’t babe me, traitor. It’s, like, midnight.”

“Uh, it’s, like, almost 2AM. I’m tired. I don’t know how y’all do it.”

She sighs, conceding, and agrees to walk with you to the front door. Kara and Eve stop off by the bar to grab another drink. Sam holds the door open for you and Anna and you’re hit by a wave of cold night air, instantly cooling your hot, sweaty skin.

“Is that…Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, mouth falling wide open.

You glance down the street and notice his black truck, parked up by the curb. “Mhm,” you reply, “my dad’s out of town, so he’s picking me up.”

“Can he take me home, too?”

Sam snickers. “Wow, Anna. That’s just…Wow.”

She shrugs, lips closing around her straw as she stares at Joel’s truck. Something inside you lurches at the idea of Joel sitting there, his eyes glued on you, watching everything you do, everyone around you. And then again at the thought of Anna and her doting gaze on him.

“Alright, I guess that’s my cue to skip.”

Anna pouts. “One more drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you scoff, patting her head affectionately. I got business to attend to.

You give her a quick kiss on the cheek and Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you’re wandering off toward Joel’s truck.

“Hey.” Something – someone – hooks around your elbow, and you turn back. It’s that same guy who stank of weed.

“Hi,” you reply, as sweet as you can, but trying to loosen his grip.

“Saw you inside, you out with friends?”

“Mhm. I’m just leavin’, my–”

“Few of us are headed upstairs. You wanna come?”

You glare at him a few seconds, before yanking your arm from his grasp. “Nah, no thanks. I’m leaving. Have a good night.”

You stagger off, feeling his eyes on you as you go. Joel’s truck headlights switch on, dazzling your eyes, and you quickly click around to the passenger side, throwing yourself in beside him.

Joel doesn’t say hey, doesn’t squeeze your thigh, doesn’t even look at you when you settle into the seat. Just asks –

“Who’s that kid?”

“Uh…not sure. Bumped into ‘im in the bar.”

“He give you trouble?”

“No,” you lean over the console, pulling your seatbelt over your body, and flash him a tipsy grin, “thought that was my job. Givin’ trouble.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take his scowl off the dude outside Frank’s, either. Your eyes meander across to his hand, locked in a tight fist around the wheel. Your smile drops.

“Joel. It’s fine. Can we go?”

When you lift a hand to the crook of his elbow and he feels your warmth on his skin, he tears his gaze away and it lands on you. Soft, gentle. His lip isn’t curled anymore. His brows lift.

His eyes watch your lips as you whisper the words to him.

“Want you to take me home.”

“’s go, pretty girl.”

----------

Joel refuses, no matter how many times you ask, how hard you bat your eyelashes, how many promises you make, to stop by a drive thru.

“Please?” you ask one last time before he’s pulling in to his neighborhood.

He shakes his head. “Look at that, we’re already home.”

“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, Miller, not until the engine’s off. We’re still driving.”

He doesn’t reply. Just pulls up in his drive, cuts the engine, and looks at you. Shrugs. “Oops.”

“Fuck you,” you groan, sliding down in your seat. “I’m starvin’.”

“Make you a big breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound?”

“Wanted a Big Mac, but whatever.”

Your fingers fumble for the door handle, clicking it open. You roll out of the truck and stroll around to meet Joel at the driver’s side. He snakes an arm around your shoulders, steadying you as you walk up his porch steps and into the house.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, glancing around his living room.

“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys and kicking his boots off.

Your eyes settle on the TV screen, paused. Probably around the time you text him. There’s a crowded hospital room onscreen, doctors in dark blue scrubs, all surrounding someone lying on a bed, someone who looks pretty familiar…

“Is that…fuckin’…Grey’s Anatomy…?”

Joel chuckles, peeling your jacket from your shoulders.

“That’s Meredith! When she–”

“She fell in the damn river,” Joel mutters, placing the tasseled leather over the back of his couch. “Derek had to go in after her. Intense stuff.”

“Right? I told you it was good!” You smack his arm. “I can’t believe you’re watchin’ it without me.”

“I ain’t watchin’ it,” he protests, “it was just on, ‘n I needed something to keep me awake. I’m still rooting for Meredith ‘n George.”

“We can watch it from the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, moving over to him. “And then I can be over here all the time, and you can make me all the grilled cheese I want, and we can lie in bed and…do stuff.” Your chin rests on his chest, flashing him a toothy grin. Hands swinging in his at your side.

Joel’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks. I’m not drunk.”

“H’many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Joel asks, raising his fist. You punch it away.

“Ha-ha,” you say tonelessly, and wander away from him.

“Baby,” he calls you from behind. Sure, you’re tipsy, and he can be a cocky asshole – especially when he has to take care of you, but that’s a sound you’ll never get tired of hearing. Baby. You’re his darlin’, his sweet girl.

You spin around, very nearly losing your footing, and he’s standing with an arm out, ready for you to take.

You smile dumbly. Meander over, and take his strong hand in both of yours, wrapping your fingers around two of his to let him reel you in against his body.

“C’mon,” he whispers, as you lean against his frame. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

You follow him up, knowing where he’s leading you. You’ve spent more time in there the last few weeks than you have your entire life.

His room is cool, not cold, but comfortable. It’s Joel all over; the muted colors, the décor, the smell that calms you as soon as you stumble over the threshold.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed and kneels, pulling your boots off one by one.

You giggle.

“You laughin’ at me?”

“You’re like my own personal tr…No, not trainer. Wait. Personal ch–”

“Chef?” he says, snorting. “Not chef. Try again, soberhead.”

“Oh, I dunno.” You throw your arms up as he sits your boots against the wall, then stands and takes your hat off.

“This,” he says, placing it on the nightstand at your side of the bed, “is very cute. I like it.”

“I’m cute, too, y’know,” you whisper, pouting.

He smiles, and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, pointer finger under your chin.

“The cutest.”

“Ha!” you roar. Joel twists around you to undo the zipper at the back of your dress. “Joel Miller thinks I’m the cutest. Take that, Anna…”

He laughs. When he unzips you, he pulls the dress off your bare chest and down your legs. You don’t shy away, used to the idea now of him seeing you naked. Used to the idea of him seeing you in any vulnerable state; drunk, or naked, or in a sobbing mess on day two of your period.

You notice, even though you’re a tad dizzy with what alcohol is left in your system, that his eyes linger on your panties a moment before he turns and grabs a tee from a chair.

And something inside you ticks.

“Joel?”

He’s pulling the shirt over your head. It smells like him. Intoxicates you much more and much quicker than any drink you could order from Frank’s.

“Mhm?”

You feed both arms through the sleeves, swallowing the question you were about to ask. He’s standing up now, telling you to get into bed.

He walks over to his dresser and begins removing his own clothing. He only sleeps in boxershorts. Your eyes track him as he yanks his t-shirt up over his toned shoulders; fingers undo his belt, unzip his jeans. Everything is discarded to the side for now; he has something more pressing to attend to.

His best friend’s daughter, laying in his bed, a pool of wet forming in her panties.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

As he slips under the covers beside you, you pull off your underwear in one quick movement. Joel doesn’t seem to notice, or so you think; his arms immediately take hold of your waist and pull you against his body. You’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping pressed against his torso, his thigh between your legs. Joel settles comfortably with you draped over him, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Joel?” you whisper again into the darkness, growing braver.

“Hm?” he replies, starting to fall asleep.

You toss ideas over in your head. None of them good, you’re sure, but you’re getting desperate. How he can’t feel your damp core on his thigh, you’ve no idea.

But then, maybe he can? Joel doesn’t miss anything, especially not where you and your…arrangement are concerned. Can he feel you? Is he deliberately ignoring it?

Maybe he has something up his own sleeve?

“I…was just wondering…”

“Wondering what, darlin’?” His voice is muffled, spoken through unmoving lips. You glance up at his face. His eyes are closed.

You grow more desperate.

“…wondering what your body count is?”

You ask it as innocently as you can, your voice wavering on the words body count. It gets him, though, as his eyes blink open a few seconds after you say it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you that. Go to sleep.” He closes them again.

“I wanna know.”

He ignores you.

“Joel,” you moan.

He calls you by name now, and you’re not sure if you’re pissing him off or turning him on – or both.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired, though. Not yet.”

In response, Joel lets go of his hold on you and rolls over without another word. It’d sting if you weren’t soaking wet right now, and didn’t have a strong hunch he was hardening under the sheets.

“Joooel…” you whine, sitting up on your elbow. No use.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back. Like a deadweight, he remains frozen.

“Ugh,” you groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He’s hard.

Not as hard as he can get, as you’d like him to be, as you’ve felt him before…but he’s hard.

“Joel…” you mewl into the darkness, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

“If you don’t stop that,” Joel’s voice finally grumbles, “I’ll be sleepin’ downstairs.”

“Sex in the living room sounds good to me.”

His eyes open. “We,” one hand comes up to point between the both of you, as if he doesn’t expect your sobering self to understand which pairing he means, “are not having sex. No sex tonight.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Huff all you want, baby, it is not happening.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a few drinks too deep and it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, it’s been a long night waitin’ for you, I–”

“So let me make it up to you. I ain’t even drunk anymore.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh. Could count any number a’ fingers you put in front of me.”

“Funny.” He closes his eyes.

“Joel.” You drag your hips again. If anything, he’s harder than he was when you first sat down on him. “I had a few drinks, I’ve sobered up. C’mon…”

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“I wanna ride you, daddy.”

This gets him. His eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling. His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t– That’s low, even for you, kid.”

You giggle and straighten up. When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn’t stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Joel breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he’s not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

Well, you’ll be screaming either way.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

“Go on,” he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

“Uhuh,” you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Joel’s humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

“Woah, woah,” Joel takes hold of your wrist, “slow down, cowgirl. I gotta get a condom.”

You huff as he leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. “Don’t want one, Joel, I’m on the pill.”

“No way, baby,” he says through a chuckle, silver wrapper in his fingers. “We already did that, one too many times.”

“So just pull out?”

“Nope.”

You sigh, frustrated.

Joel holds the packet out to you, smirk on his face like he doesn’t expect you to take it.

So, you do.

You steal it from him and tear the wrapper, fishing the rubber out between your two fingers. Pinching the top, you roll it down his shaft and pump up and down for good measure.

“Ready?” you ask, head tilted, cocky smile on your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he whispers, shoulders lifting off the mattress. He lifts the hem of your shirt, telling you, “Off,” before pulling it over your head, exposing your bare breasts.

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, figure silhouetted against the slivers of light peeking through the shades from the streetlights outside. You’ve never felt so confident, mounted on top of Joel fucking Miller.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. “Fuckin’ – knock yourself out, baby.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Joel hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Joel groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

He’s so deep it brings tears to your eyes, so big that he’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots already before you’ve even begun.

Joel’s eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Joel’s chest now for balance. You’re whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good and borderline painful at the same time, but you don’t stop.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” Joel moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. “’attagirl, just like that.”

“Joel…” you cry, letting him bottom out each time, feeling his balls slam into your ass with each bounce.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me, baby, use your words.”

“So – good – Joel – oh!” you shout.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, huh?”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you’re directly above him now. One of Joel’s hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Joel speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

“Like ridin’ me, do ya? Like the way it feels?”

“Mhm,” you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. “Fuck…”

“You look so good, baby, so good. Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear, even at this hour. Joel smirks back, resting his hand back on your hip, where he has a grip of you.

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

“Joel – I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, sweet girl, cum all over me. Let go, baby, I’m here.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Joel lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That’s my girl, doin’ so good, baby as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can’t take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you’re not sure you can sit up straight on top of Joel.

But he’s always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

“Joel…” you whimper pathetically. “Can’t do it anymore…”

“That’s okay, baby, we’re gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?”

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn’t shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You’re overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Joel makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

“Good girl, that’s– that’s it, so fuckin’ tight for me, pretty girl.”

When it all becomes too much to take – Joel’s hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open – you push him back down onto the bed.

Once when you still lived in New York you read something in a Cosmo about spelling the word ‘coconut’ with your hips when riding a guy. You’d tried it a couple times with hookups, and it’d never done anything for you. They’d never done anything for you.

But here you are, nearing your second orgasm, on top of someone making such a mess of you that you brain can hardly compute to spell coconut, never mind your hips being able to round the shape of the word.

His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper.

“There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

It’s all you need. It’s all it takes, by this point.

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Joel’s mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

“So – fuckin’ – big – inside me,” you slur, and Joel moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he’s there. He’s just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Joel’s groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his. “Good?”

“So good, baby, did so well. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you, condom full of his seed.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

Then Joel gets up, and wanders over to the bathroom, where you watch him through the open door as he pulls the filled rubber from his soft dick. He bins it, then runs a facecloth under the faucet, dabbing it across his own forehead as he makes his way back over to you.

You can’t hide your grin as you watch his naked form approach; tan lines where his t-shirt must end, dark hair decorating his arms, legs, chest, the base of his cock. He sits at the edge of the bed, arm outstretched with the flannel in hand.

You go to take it from him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Just pats it over your face gently, soft gaze on yours, your fingers intertwined around his wrist. Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

“Feel nice?” he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he’s being, how tender. When he stands to throw the flannel back into the sink, you almost find yourself reaching out to hold him down.

He climbs over you, springing back down onto the mattress with a heaving sigh.

You prop yourself up and shimmy over, positioning yourself on top of Joel, chest-to-chest. He looks down and smirks, running a lazy hand across your cheek.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head with a smile and lay down on his chest. You can hear his heartrate slowly calming down. His fingers twist through your messy hair.

“I have no idea what you’re laced with,” he says, “but you got me.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

Joel nods. You shift positions, adjusting your aching hips safely between his thighs. “You hurtin’?” he asks.

You nod. “Mhm. But I like it. It’s you.”

Joel’s hands run through your hair and his fingertips trace your shoulders. His touch is so light it almost tickles. You turn your jaw and kiss the back of his hand.

“My dad gone, Sarah out, free house…” you mutter.

“Hm.”

“So, you invite your mistress over.” You lift your head, smirking at him.

Joel’s chest vibrates with laughter. “You ain’t my mistress.”

“Oh really? What am I, then?”

“I am not having this conversation at 4AM, kid. Ask me again tomorrow.”

You’d think of something to throw back at him, messing with him, but your entire body aches, and your heavy eyes are starting to fold closed with how sleepy you suddenly feel.

You pull Joel’s sheets over yourself, turning your back to him. Joel instantly follows suit, pulling up right behind you, your back tight to his chest, his thighs cupping the back of yours, then slipping one between your legs.

His arms lock around your torso under the sheets. Safe. Secure. Nothing can happen to you as long as he’s got you.

“Ten,” his voice mumbles against the back of your head.

You turn so your ear is pressed against his lips. “Huh?”

“Ten. That’s my number. Includin’ you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t ask to hear yours. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but he doesn’t. You don’t think he’s telling you to hear yours in exchange. He’s telling you because you asked. He’s telling you because, whether in attempt to turn him on or simply to know something about him that you didn’t before – something nobody else knows – it mattered to you.

He’s telling you because you matter to him.

You nuzzle back into him a little, a form of reply, and, as you start to fall asleep, you feel him place a gentle kiss to your ear.

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @giixo @capricorngf @feministfanboi @fifia-writes @darleneslane @theplumsoldier @sharp-cheekbones-locked @suzmagine @endlessthxxghts @ivebeenflagged @blognametakenn @jessahmewren @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ranahx @pedropascalsbbg @cartoon-garbage04 @caatheeriinee07 @kngslayr @hopplessilse @vickywallace @gracieispunk @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #fic: cowboy like me

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grimespial · 4 months ago

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Husbands

Daryl Dixon x Husband!Male Reader

I like to imagine Daryl eloping, mainly because he got the courage and because there's not exactly many people he would even want there

Merle sort of grew to accept you? More like he just makes little comments that didn't seem in "bad" faith, he's grown a bit atleast.

As much as you didn't like the groups Merle was in cahoots with, and all the trouble he got in, but you helped Daryl clean up after him.

But then the apocalypse happened.

You obviously got out with the Dixon brothers, it would be a cold day in hell if you separated from him.

At the camp neither of you told the group you were married, and Daryl tended to keep PDA to a minimum anyways

The group couldn't tell what your relationship was, obviously Daryl and Merle were brothers but were you and Daryl just good friends?

It was something you teased Daryl about, how good friends you were, he always said it wasn't as funny as you found it but you saw his smile.

It took a while before someone figured it out, not even on purpose, Carol went to go ask if y'all wanted your clothes washed, and caught you holding Daryl against a tree

Needless to say, you couldn't face Carol for a while and Daryl took every chance to make comments about it.

It didn't help he had a hickey that reminded you everytime you saw it.

It was the CDC that most of the group guessed something was going on, you both could hold your drink but you couldn't hold the PDA back.

Daryl no longer had a name, it was only "My Husband", if anyone said Daryl you corrected them, most of the group assumed you were teasing him with how he kept going red and pushing you off him.

It was a nice takeback to before the outbreak, and people who were hungover (mostly Glenn, Daryl and you got him absolutely wasted for fun) forgot about it.

When the group finally knew the PDA was slightly increased, mostly just a chaste kiss and holding eachother

Daryl never realised how much he missed just holding you, he would never admit it to you, especially to anybody else.

It was everybodys favourite way to tease you both, especially Carol, asking Daryl 'how his husband felt', to 'ask his husband for permission'

There was never just one of you, y'all were a package deal, it was accepted before they even knew of your relationship

Daryl never got over being reffered to as 'Mr and Mr Dixon', yeah that's literally what your were but his cheeks always flushed.

When it came to resting it was easier next to you, when Beth died he couldn't sleep unless you were holding him

At first he "assured" you he was fine, he just wanted to take watch so that others could rest up, but then you gave him a choice between cuddling or you take watch with him

Daryl was hoping to just stay with you until you fell asleep and then go back on watch, but he practically passed out, being the last to wake up the next morning

He acted upset but he was grateful you managed to force him to get some sleep.

Hunts was the time you two spent to get some food, but also spend some alone time away from the groups eyes

It didn't exactly hide what you had done, nobody believed that Daryl's flushed face, messed up hair and hickey just barely hidden under his shirt was simply from a "hard hunt".

They'd pretend to save y'all the embarrassment, but that didn't stop them from making jokes about "how hard the hunt must've been" and how "Daryl will need some rest after that hard, rough hunt."

Carl didn't exactly understand most of the jokes but he found fun poking at Daryl.

As the group grew closer, becoming a family, Daryl became more comfortable with PDA, not completely, but he wasn't as reserved with kissing, no longer just restriced to a quick kiss that was barely a feather touch

He didn't have to worry that the group would send disgusted looks at him, they're family, they loved him.

You loved him.

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tired-ophidian · 6 months ago

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Our Lady ~

Guess who's back!!! Exams are finally over and I now have the freedom to do anything I want again! (for now). I know I'm late but it's better than never, right? So let's give our beloved train goddess some love and greet her a Happy Mother's Day. Don't ask why but I've always imagined her as like a motherly deity to her creations, especially to sentient locomotives. But that's just me, anyway, y'all will be seeing a lot more from me in the future so just a heads up ;} Have a Happy Mother's Day to all mommas out there, kids go hug your mothers if you have one, and have a good morning, noon, and night everyone! /ps as always credits to @asktrio516/@dilemmaart for Lady's human design <333

#thomas and friends #ttte fanart #ttte human au #ttte humanized #ttte lady #asktrio516 #mother's day #train goddess #ttte lady the magical engine #fanart #ophieee #tired-ophidian #speedran this at school

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witchwyfe · 1 year ago

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best way to spend a summer day - kook friend group

pairing - (non-canon) platonic!kook friend group x female reader, (non canon) platonic!rafe cameron x female reader, (non canon) platonic!topper thornton x female reader, (non canon) platonic!kelce x female reader

précis - golfing with the boys!

content/warnings - mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, mentions of eating, language

word count - 818

"What if we--"

"No."

"Please!"

"No."

"Please angel, we'll only do 9 holes and then buy you lunch after." Topper, ever the mediator, offers.

"You were gonna buy me lunch anyway."

Rafe rolls his eyes and you snicker, leaning back in the lounge chair you're resting in.

"I just don't understand why this how y'all want to spend your time. Kelce's internship and Rafe's study abroad start in one month, we're wasting our one month of summer by fucking hitting balls on grass."

You're met with three glares and simultaneous responses.

"Okay, you can't say 'we' if you haven't even been going."

"There is way more technique than just hitting balls."

"Hey!"

"And what would you suggest we do then, mamas?" Kelce asks, raising an eyebrow over his sunglasses.

Your face warms at being put on the spot, three gazes stuck patiently on you.

"I don't know, shopping on the mainland, movie nights, brunch at the island club--"

"You can have island club drinks on the golf cart!" Rafe exclaims, throwing his arms up before slapping them at his sides. "And we'll get brunch afterwards."

You sigh dramatically. "9 holes? Not 18?"

Rafe smiles, knowing they've already won. "Of course."

Topper picks you up bright and early the next morning, Rafe and Kelce already packed into the backseat with one set of clubs, the other two in the trunk.

"Morning boys." You smile sarcastically, climbing into the front passenger seat.

"Good morning mamas." Kelce smiles. "Thank you for coming."

"Hm, y'all better make it worth my while." You joke.

"Getting to spend time with your best friends isn't worth it?" Rafe asks, feigning offense.

"Shut up," You groan. "You guys know I love you. Even when you make me golf."

They all made a big deal about your new Lululemon golf dress, and promise to take cute pictures of you in the golf cart, all by the time you pull up to the country club.

You juggle your sunglasses, phone, and water bottle once Rafe opens the door for you.

"Thank you Rafe," You smile, reaching up to pinch his cheeks. "You're such a gentleman."

You wait with Kelce while the other two go to get the cart. You let their clubs stay propped up against your legs so that don't fall to the ground.

Topper takes the purple Stanley--that he got you for Christmas--from your hands and sets it into the cup holder. You help them load up their clubs then you're making yourself comfortable in the front again.

"Do they sell cocktails at the beverage carts?" You wonder. "Or should I grab one now before we go?"

"Think they only sell beer, babe." Kelce frowns. "And they don't allow open cups on the course."

You groan, leaning your head back. Rafe digs around in his golf bag, brandishing a small bottle of champagne.

"Don't worry bestie girl, we didn't forget about you." He smiles, shoving the bottle back inside. "Gonna get you some orange juice from the bev cart and you can make a mimosa."

"Rafe!" You cry, throwing your arms around him. "You're the best!"

"I know, I know," He smirks. "Aren't you glad you came with us, now?"

"I guess," You grumble, playfully rolling your eyes.

You sit comfortably in the golf cart, while your friends play, sipping on the mimosa Rafe mixed you, scrolling on social media, and occasionally reminding the boys to reapply their sunscreen.

Kelce even dragged you out to take a swing and they all cheered you on when you failed miserably, taking a sloppy bow before skipping back to the golf cart.

Once you’re back at the club, seated at your favorite table, you’re lightly clasping your mimosa glass in your hand—this one prepared by your waiter and not Rafe with his Blender bottle.

“I think it tasted better when you made it, Rafe.” You frown, taking another sip anyway.

“'Course it did.” He grins smugly.

You pull a lip gloss from the handy pocket in your golf outfit, coating a thick layer over your lips. You take your napkin and work it over the rim of your glass too, even though you'll get more gloss stuck to it on your next sip.

"You're just one of the boys, aren't you?" Topper teases, just to mess with you.

You cap your gloss and set it on the table, narrowing your eyes into a glare at Topper. "No, I am not."

"Yeah, she's like our bratty little sister." Rafe pipes up, reaching over the table to steal a handful of your fries.

"Yeah, I'm the bratty one." You smack Rafe's hand, grinning when he whines. "And I'm literally older than you, Rafe."

"By like two months!" He argues.

"Okay and?" You retort. "Still older."

He makes a point by stealing more of your fries.

"Brat. You know you're the one paying for those, right?"

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misteria247 · 11 months ago

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Woke up this morning feeling good, then my sister and her boyfriend decided that 7 something am was the perfect time to start bickering and arguing over stupid shit.

It's been an hour and fifteen minutes. Of non stop arguing coming from the other room.

My anxiety's now starting to act up because of this and I've got work today.

Today's gonna be a long, long fucking day.

#oli talks #ooc #muns ramblings #mindless ramblings of a madman #anxiety #vent #rant #kinda #anyways good morning y'all I guess???#hopefully things will start to calm down for me anxiety wise

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kekeke32 · 8 months ago

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TOUCHSTARVED trailer theme theory??

Hi guys, hi everyone. Hope we’re doing well!

SO the full version of the trailer theme is finally out on YouTube and holy shit??? It goes so HARD!!! Give it a listen here.

After rewatching it over and over again, I noticed something so I’ll map out which lyrics appear with which character for y’all to see:

Wish I could’ve added more ss but I’m on the mobile app 🥲 Anyways, I really don’t think the dev team added the characters photos randomly ‘cause check this out:

In Ais’s part, the lyrics are about a certain weakness (ik the lyrics “my weakness” refer to a person but I chose to ignore that jskdksk) and survival. This may be a reach BUT doesn’t this reminds you of Ais’s official character description? Specifically of this part: “Ais seems capable of curing you...but a sick sense of dread surrounds him. He's beginning to suspect that he may not be as in control of his powers as he thought. Can you save each other, or will he drag you down to the abyss with him?" This so-called “weakness” could be his very own powers and he’ll need the player to help him, to “survive”.

Now, about Vere’s part, I don’t have much to say tbh other than the fact that the lyrics “Cause everytime we touch” appear for the first time in his part and I guess you could say it’s related to his frequenting at the brothel? (iykwim 😏) Oh! And you could also see him being touched by a lot of different hands in the trailer. Besides that, his part ends with the lyrics “need you by my side” sung softly by the singer hmm…

Kuras’s part on the other hand, starts strongly (I suck balls at describing music so pls listen 4 urselves, you’ll know what I mean😭) and at 1:59 mins the lyrics are “Cause everytime we touch” then his face darkens a little and it stars an instrumental interlude. I don’t know what that really means but he’s sus

Mhin’s part is sung very softly as well and the lyrics “We’ve been through them all. You make me rise when I fall” are so sweet more so because I think in their route they’ll open up more to the player after going together through incomprehensible horrors and we’ll learn how to support each other <33

Finally, Leander’s part!! Now, LISTEN. His part is the reason why I even made this post in the first place lmao This mf is way too sus but first of all, the building synth progression at 2:58???? oh my god I got CHILLS. literal chills. *ahem* Moving on, his part, starts strongly the same as Kuras’s part did. Their parts are the only ones sung like that… Weird, huh? Anyway, after the lyrics “I can’t let you go. Want you in my life” at 3:49, the song gets SUPER intense and starts sounding very desperate ig?? (kudos to Dan! love his voice frfr) and Leander’s part ends with “Need you by my side”. Okayy y'all… Y'ALL. THIS IS CRAZY. In his part we have both the lyrics "I can't let you go. Want you in my life" AND "I want this to last. Need you by my side". AHHHH Leander you obsessed little bitch (affectionate)

In conclusion, there’s no fucking way the red spring team didn’t assign the certain parts of the lyrics very and I mean VERY purposefully to each LI. The parts suit them specifically well so I highly doubt it’s random but it could also just be me reading too much into this

Whatever!!! Good morning/Good night to this fandom only ^_^

#IT HAS A MEANING #this game makes me lose my goddamn mind in the best way possible #touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved theory #touchstarved leander #visual novel #indie games #leander touchstarved #vere touchstarved #touchstarved kuras #ais touchstarved #touchstarved mhin #red spring studios #theory #all the leander theories give me life.#fandom

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v3nusplanetofluv · 9 months ago

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camp

i; fishbowls

｡･ﾟﾟ･atsumu x fem! reader

｡･ﾟﾟ･college and 90s au

description...

atsumu miya was the bane of your existence growing up. always making it his job to tease and taunt you daily. as time went on you detached yourself from the neighborhood kids, your frequent, unwanted presence merely becoming a thing of the past. however, the summer of '98 causes you and atsumu to face the past.

content!

2.1k words

"ma, when yer son comes home from college yer supposed to keep him in not kick him out!" atsumu groaned as his head fell onto the cold kitchen counter, "especially when i'm your favorite-"

"what-"

it was finally summer vacation, and all the miyas were back in their nest. the formerly eerily quiet kitchen was once again full of life; the sweet smell of vanilla filled the air as pancakes were flipped on the electric griddle; the bright sun warmed the table cloth that covered the glass dining table; and loud hearty accents were doubled in sound as the two boys were back.

"both of y'all are gettin' kicked out," the older woman places the now finished pancakes onto a plate. "it just so happens that samu listens to what I have ta say, and chooses where he wants ta go ahead of time."

the grey haired twin smiles up at his mom with a 'thanks' as she places a stack of pancakes in front of him. "i'm goin' to grandma and grandpa's farm ta help out at their cafe," he sticks his tongue out at atsumu making him roll his eyes.

"whatever," his arms crossed over his chest, "I don't like that stinky farm anyway." atsumu flinches as he feels his mom yank upon his ear in disapproval.

"good! ya won't have ta 'cause yer workin' at a summer camp!" mrs. miya smiles as atsumu's jaw practically reaches the depths of hell. "our neighbor suggested it--"

"which neighbor so i know whose lawn koda can piss on--OW!" mr.miya strikes the faux blond with his now rolled morning paper.

"language," the older man sits beside his son, coffee now in hand. "y/n's mother came up with that great idea--the girl's been working there since high school--ya remember her right?"

"yeah, i remember fishbowls--OW!" osamu was now on the receiving end of the sunday morning paper, the boy now reaching for his battered forehead. the action instantly stifled atsumu's laughs.

the faux blond covers his head, "ya want me to go work with that freak for the whole summer?" he asks through gritted teeth, actively guarding his head.

"y/n is a beautiful young lady who is doin' great things," mama miya points her spatula at the boys, "she's actually in school studyin' biology to become a doctor now!"

"oh, who would've thought that fishbowls was gonna be in a nerdy major?" atsumu comments, sarcasm dripping in his tone, making osamu snicker.

osamu sits up straight, "'do ya wanna come over and see my new experiment?" he mocks a nerdy accent as he pushes his fake glasses up the bridge of his nose making his brother burst at the seams in laughter.

"come on! y'all haven't seen the girl since she changed schools in middle school," the older miya says as he sips his coffee.

"yea cause she was always cooped up in her room readin' or some shit," atsumu mumbles as he messes with the pancakes in front of him.

"well, i guess this summer will be the perfect time ta give her a chance!" mama miya smiles as she brushes her hands off on her apron, ignoring his groans, "and ya better get packin' 'cause ya leave next week."

insane in the membrane by cyrprus hill blares through the stereo setup of the 1989 lexus is 400. osamu's sunglass rest upon his nose as he drives through rural hyogo, fingers tapping on the steering wheel to the beat. atsumu sits in the passenger seat mumbling along to the lyrics, hand resting outside of the window.

atsumu furrows his eyebrows as he looks over at his brother, "is it too late for me ta come ta the farm with ya?"

"...ya called it stinky--"

"but a whole summer--three months with fishbowls--sounds like i'll be slittin' ma wrist with a spoon," atsumu groans as he sinks further into his seat.

osamu chuckles as he glances over at the drama queen, "think positive! what if she's like hella fine now?"

the two look between each other before bursting out in laughs.

"i'll miss yer goofy ass this summer 'samu!" he says as he wipes a fake tear from his eye.

not even thirty minutes later the sight of tall trees completely consumed the car. the smell of marukawa bubble gum was replaced with fresh water and earthy cedar trees. the road got bumpy as atsumu poked his head out of the window, finally seeing the massive sign marking the entrance of the summer camp: ' firefly valley.'

as osamu slowed the car atsumu instantly started to scratch, "i think i'm allergic ta this place."

"they're called mosquitos--now get outta my car!"

"we won't see each other for almost three months and this is how you wanna say goodbye?" atsumu fakes a pout as he unbuckled his seatbelt making his twin roll his eyes. as osamu pulled his bag out of the car, atsumu looked up at the trees that never seemed to end; and down at the dirt that somehow already got onto his white sneakers.

the feeling of his duffle bag shoved into his chest grabbed atsumu's attention as he looked up to be met with the flash of osamu's digital camera. he sighs with a smile as he pulls the camera from his face, "man, grandma is gonna love this! might even hang it on the fridge." he snickers making atsumu glare but the frustrated feeling is instantly dropped as osamu pulls him into a hug.

"ya better not come back with headgear and a new love for readin'" he teases making atsumu laugh.

"no promises!" he says as he pulls away, "call me when ya get ta the farm."

"i will," osamu waves one final time as he gets into the car, driving off leaving atsumu at the camp. dirt kicks up from the wheels making the faux blond flinch back, unfortunately bumping into someone. he swiftly apologizes as he turns around but he's quickly dismissed as the man doesn't seem phased.

"ya must be atsumu miya," the man smiles, "welcome to camp! i'm kyo," he sticks his hand out and atsumu shakes it with a tight lipped smile. "follow me and i'll show ya the leader cabins and around camp along the way."

with wide eyes, atsumu looks around the camp in awe. even though he just moved to a bigger and busier city--tokyo--he hadn't realized how much he missed this. he was instantly transported back to his earlier summers spent at his grandparents' farm. the bright blue sky created a stunning gradient into the shimmering lake. the trees looked as if they could go on forever--as if they were reaching for the sun. the oh so familiar smell of sunblock attacked his nostrils as the smaller versions of his volleyball nets made a smile creep upon his face.

atsumu looked ahead at the sound of kyo's voice, directing him to his cabin that he would share with other leaders for the next three months. the faux blond thanked him as he rested his bags on the floor beside his bed. the brown-haired man was about to leave before he remembered something.

"make sure to stop by the main office to get yer shirts and badge--someone should be in there to help ya out!" and before atsumu could ask him where exactly the main office was, he was gone.

he sighed as he hooked his sunglasses onto the collar of his t-shirt,. atsumu made his way out of the cabin, looking around intently for any resemblance, or sign that could possibly lead him to his destination.

after about ten minutes of wandering around, the dark green and white building came into his view. one could tell it was old with the way the paint was chipping--the intense weathering it endured was evident.

he opened the screened door to be met with a welcomed blast of air conditioning, a content sigh left his lips as he looked around. the sound of a voice caught his attention leading him to follow it around a corner and into what looked like a waiting area.

the back of a spinny chair was what atsumu first saw. the back of an occupied spinny chair! a finger peeked out as it twirled the cord of the phone, looping and unlooping as you talked on the phone.

"yes, ms.tanaka i will personally make sure that hiro has easy access to his inhaler..." you smiled into the phone, adjusting in your seat completely unaware of the nearly drooling simpleton behind you.

he couldn't see you but he could just tell that you were hot. maybe it was the way he could imagine your perfectly manicured nails combing through his hair as you whispered sweet nothings in his ear with your heavenly voice or maybe he was simply deluded.

"of course, you know i've never let anything happen to hiro--i figure you'd want him back in one piece at the end of the summer...yes yes of course! it is my job," you laugh softly making atsumu's heart skip a beat, "feel free to call back if you have any more questions...alright, I can't wait to see hiro!...have a nice day , bye bye."

as you hang up the phone atsumu can barely contain his excitement as dozens of scenarios run through his mind of what he would say to you--a grin kept sneaking up his lips which he quickly pushed away to keep up his cool facade.

he quickly gets into position as he rests upon the desk, instantly grabbing your attention as he knocks down a pen holder. you whip your head around only to feel the wind get stuck within your throat.

it suddenly becomes hard to breathe as you're unable to say anything let alone move, and you think that you could use hiro's inhaler right about now. your horrified expression makes atsumu's heart drop as he quickly scrambles to pick up the mess he had made.

"h-hey it's alright, i can get it cleaned up real quick!" he awkwardly laughs in nervousness and embarrassment as he realizes he had just made a fool of himself in front of one of the prettiest girls he's ever seen. he tries to fight off the blush on his cheeks, and runs through excuses in his mind--the heat!

you finally manage to catch your breath and look up at him. the boy who made your adolescence a living hell. the man who is now invading one of your safe spaces.

"what do you want?" your tone is harsh, but not harsh enough in your opinion. however, the blond doesn't take much notice as he stares down at you with a goofy look on his face.

"atsumu miya," he sighs dreamily, "name please," he grins, completely oblivious to your look of disgust and the incoherency of his sentence. your eyebrow raises and confusion coats your face. you think he must not recognize you and it's a fair assumption considering you made it a mission to avoid the miyas and the other neighborhood kids once you hit puberty to preserve your sanity...and dignity--what was left of it.

on the other hand, it was as if you had no chance to erase his face from your memory. hell, the universe never gave you a chance to.

"look at the twins! they're committing to that powerhouse school!"

"did you see that atsumu's the best high school setter in japan?"

"can you believe that atsumu's ready been offered to join msby?"

"atsumu looks amazing in his media pictures for msby don't ya think?"

you allowed your expression to soften, "so...you don't know who I am?" you cross your arms over your chest, leaning onto the desk making the blond's hands grow sweaty.

"the girl of ma dreams," he bites down on his lip to hide his smile.

you deadpan before rolling your eyes making atsumu straighten up, "o-or i'd like ta get ta know...if ya let me." he suddenly feels bashful? something the faux blond is greatly unfamiliar with...maybe you were a witch.

you look him up and down, making his cheeks heat up all over again, "i think you'll freak when i tell you." you narrow your gaze at him, unknowingly feeding his supicsions.

in one of his boldest moves of the day, he leans down towards you, "try me," he smirks.

you look up at him through your lashes, quickly thinking of all of his possible reactions. your lips begin to twitch up into an almost wicked smile, "do ya really wanna know?" he you lean up closer towards him, making his heart rate increase.

"more than anythin'," he breathes out, tuning out the sound of his beating heart.

your gaze darkens, "does fishbowls ring a bell?" your sickening smile doesn't dare to falter as you watch atsumu flinch back in confusion, his face twisting into multiple emotions as he tries to process the sound of the cruel nickname leaving your lips.

he leans forward a bit to look at your face, looking for any features that may have resembled his insanely nerdy neighbor.

"...y/n?"

"in the flesh."

notes !

☆ mr. and mrs. miya adore y/n. they have always admired her manners and academic ambition. that led to them always urging the twins to hang out with her and also partially ignited their disdain toward the girl.

☆ y/n never picked up the hyogo accent even though she lived there her whole life. immersion wasn't enough as her parents didn't speak the dialect either. this further isolated y/n from the neighborhood kids.

☆ when y/n said her name atsumu didn't buy it at first until he looked at her closer and noticed the scar that she had on her eyebrow. the same scar that he gave her after throwing a ball at her too hard while trying to be funny. the ball broke her glasses and they cut into her face.

☆ y/n honestly thought she was gonna pass out from lack of airflow to her brain when she saw atsumu again in person after all of those years.

i hope you enjoyed! this is a draft from my wattpad that i'm reworking :) if you'd like to be tagged just let me know!

dividers by @plutism

#hq x reader #hq fluff #hq fanfic #haikyuu fluff #hq imagines #hq x y/n #haikyuu!!#hq hcs #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #msby atsumu #atsumu headcanons #hq atsumu #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x female reader

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