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lokissweater · 3 months ago

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“i love you and i love you.” ᡣ𐭩

{yuta okkotsu x f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been hopelessly in love with you since he was fifteen. you, his muse and his reason to live as you took care of him growing up more than anyone else in his life. in fear of breaking your best friend pact and losing you entirely, yuta swallows his feelings for the sake of keeping you in his life, but he can only take so much.

warnings: college au, friends to best friends to lovers trope, lowkey ooc yuta oops, mentions of underage drinking, hopelessly devoted and lovesick yuta for reader, cursing!!! both reader and yuta cuss lol, lots and lots of fluff, ANGST, afab!reader, use of y/n, pet names, no smut in this one! slight sexual themes, reader is older than yuta by two years.

word count: 8.7k

authors note: YAAALLL i actually poured my heart and soul out into this one so i really hope it reaches your heart and soul as well! it is so so cute and i had so much fun writing it. this is definitely not the end of this au! i plan to write more short stories that take place after this one :) mwah.

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yuta was thirteen years old when he first saw you.

you were a casual friend of his older brother who had invited his entire group of friends over for a thanksgiving feast reunion amongst yourselves. yuta stayed locked in his room for the most part, from time to time lazily making his way down the halls and through the kitchen where you all sat to get a glass of water for himself, silently savoring at the food on the table.

eventually you had picked up on his lame attempts of coming into the kitchen for random excuses, concluding that he just wanted to gawk at the food and maybe score a bite or two of the pumpkin pie drenched in whipped cream, sitting pretty and proud in the middle of the table.

but after various unsuccessful attempts and various defeated stomps down the hall and back to his room after every shoo from his brother, he knew he wasn’t going to get even a lick. at the end of the night when the group settled down and many began to take their leave, yuta made his way back down one more time in search of any lucky scraps left behind.

but what he found instead was you, standing in the kitchen with a white porcelain plate in your hands, a slice of pumpkin pie drenched in whipped cream sitting pretty in the middle.

“for you,” you had said calmly, plate outstretched, beckoning him to take it. “i saw you come down a few times looking at it, and i think whoever brought it is taking the rest of it back home, so here.”

yuta had never spoken to a girl before, much less a fifteen year old one with the sweetest smile he had ever seen in his life on her face, but he timidly and awkwardly took the smooth plate from your offering hands, and muttered a squeaky thank you before stumbling down the hall and slamming his bedroom door shut.

from then on, yuta looked forward to the next time his brother would have his friends over, nagging at him constantly with questions of when, and even going as far as to straight up planning the hangouts himself (the location of all of them being at their house of course), but his brother would only shove him out of his room and lock the door shut.

luckily for yuta his wish was granted, and his curious eyes saw you around a lot more often than not, and you gradually became a close friend of yuta’s brother instead of just casual one. every time you came over to his house, you always greeted him with the biggest smile on your face before going into his brother’s room with the rest of the group. and over time, your greetings to yuta went from sweet smiles, to pats on the head, to ruffling up his hair occasionally, and to his personal favorite, the side hug.

you always were around in yuta’s growing life and always made sure he had gotten something to eat that day, or if he had a ride to soccer practice, or if his phone had enough battery to last him through his tutoring sessions, or even if he had someone going to watch his soccer games in the mornings (which was never).

yuta was fifteen when he realized he liked you.

“so no one is going?” you asked sharply, “again?”

yuta shrugged. “its at eight o’ clock in the morning. i don’t expect anyone to, not even you-“

“well i’m going,” you said simply, putting the rest of your textbooks away in your locker and slamming it shut. “geez not even your brother goes to your games? i’m gonna yell at him later.”

“it’s fine.” yuta shook his head and gave you a small smile, his insides twisting and contorting with an overwhelming boy crush for you. “a lot of my teammates parents don’t go either, usually only to the first two of the season.”

but not you. you went every single time, even going as far as dragging his brother with you so he could have family there to watch him play. yuta always made sure to turn and raise a hand to you from across the field, waving it side to side before getting back in the game, his heart thumping wildly in his chest with an insane sense of adrenaline to do good on the field and show off— because you were watching.

yuta was still fifteen when he realized you liked his brother.

firstly, he felt utterly stupid for not picking up on it before. yuta was always too busy staring at you and memorizing every inch and detail of your face to realize that you were looking at his brother the same way yuta looked at you. he was too busy running around in soccer fields and eating the ham sandwiches you always made for him after practices to realize how red your face would get when you sat next to his brother during his games, or when you gave him sandwiches. yuta was too busy drooling over you in his mind that sometimes you wouldn’t even notice him waving at you from across the field like he always did, your eyes trained on his brother instead, that sweet smile he was all too familiar with shining for someone else.

it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t fair at all. yuta felt like his brother always got everything and he always ended up with scraps. yuta never got a friend group like his, or a stellar reputation in a sport like he did, or people at his beck and call everywhere he went, or nominations for pointless shit like homecoming king.

but yuta didn’t give a flying fuck about any of that. he didn’t want any of that. he wanted you. just you.

but he couldn’t have you.

yuta was sixteen when he realized he was in love with you.

he had been for a while actually, and he knew it, but the thought alone of you liking his stupid brother only fueled the fire of denial to save himself from getting hurt more than he already was.

but it was absolutely pouring rain that day, his tutoring session having been cancelled last minute due to the weather, and because of this he had no ride home and no umbrella to even attempt at walking home, not that he could anyways seeing as it would take him thirty minutes to do so. yuta absolutely could not take that chance. he had his laptop in his backpack with all of his school work, and worst of all, his final project that he had been working on since the beginning of the school year, a precious green portfolio filled with notes worth more than gold to him.

yuta grumbled as he scuffed his feet against the concrete at the front of his school under a rooftop, lips pressed into a thin line in annoyance. his parents were at work, there was no way they could just drop everything and go to him (not that they would anyways), and his brother was too busy hanging out with you doing god knows what at god knows where— so even calling you was out of the picture.

at the mere thought of you hanging out with his brother, he sighed softly, sadly, and slumped down on a blue bench with his cold hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, eyes trained to the ground.

heavy pit pats of rain smacked against the ground as he sat there in thought, the sounds of cars zooming down the wet streets as the only source of life around besides himself, seeing as it was already late in the day and everybody else had gone home. without him even noticing, the front doors beside him creaked open as he sat there grumbling.

“yuta?”

his head snapped up upon hearing your pretty voice call out to him, his eyes wide as he saw you standing there with an umbrella.

“what are you doing here?” he asked softly, standing up. yuta looked at you then and noticed your eyes were red and tired, and a shock of worry shot up his spine.

“i was-”

“are you okay?” he asked quickly. “your eyes are red.”

“oh really?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your palm, waving him off. “it’s nothing, i didn’t even notice.”

he pursed his lips, concern written all over his face as he took in your defeated expression, but before he could press any further, you spoke again.

“why aren’t you in tutoring?”

“oh they cancelled last minute,” he stuffed his hands further into his jacket and looked to the side. “i don’t have a ride home now because of it, and i can’t even walk home because it’s raining hard as fuck and i have my laptop in my backpack.”

you hummed in understanding, and even though it looked like the worst possible thing ever just happened to you, you gave him that same sweet smile he craved every time he saw you. “let’s walk to your house together. i have an umbrella we can try and fit under.”

he looked at you incredulously. “no no! it’s okay! you live down the street i don’t want to make you walk thirty minutes in the rain with me and thirty back-”

“it’s okay!” you laughed. “i would never leave you here by yourself yu, you know that.”

oh how he loved when you called him that.

his shoulders slowly relaxed, a wobbly cute smile spreading across his face, his cheeks a fuzzy pink. “okay.”

you walked together in a comfortable silence, your little umbrella just barely covering the both of you and yuta’s cheeks were still an intense pinky shade due to the close proximity, his steamy breath basically fanning the side of your ear as he huddled close to you.

after a few minutes spent walking on the sidewalk, yuta spoke up again.

“why are your eyes red?”

you immediately froze, but relaxed quickly.

“just tired s’all,” you responded weakly, but the little wobbling of your bottom lip told him otherwise.

yuta slowly lifted his hand and reached out, placing it softly on top of yours and clenching over the stem of the umbrella. the action caused you both to stop walking, your curious eyes snapping to his.

his palm felt like it was on absolute fire at the feeling of your soft hand under his, yuta’s breath trembling as he breathed out.

he swallowed. “can you please tell me why.”

your eyes flooded with tears then, and you shut them tightly as you dropped your forehead solemnly to rest against his shoulder, your frame shaking with quiet sobs escaping your lips.

yuta’s eyes softened and he quickly took the umbrella from you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a tight hug. his heart thumped so hard against his chest that he could hear it ringing through his ears.

he patted the back of your head gently. “what happened? what’s going on?”

you shook your head against his chest.

“y/n..” he sighed worriedly, running a soothing hand over your shaking back now.

“i have a crush on your brother,” you sobbed.

he knew. god he knew. but hearing you say it out loud broke his heart ten times more than it did when he found out on his own.

yuta slightly pulled back, bending his knees a little to look at you at eye level, his hand on your shoulder.

“i know.”

your eyebrows furrowed, more silent tears spilling from your eyes. “you know?”

yuta nodded, smiling sadly at you as he wiped your tears with his thumb, your eyes closing as he did so. “i spend almost every second of my life with you, of course i know. i noticed.”

you sniffed.

“weren’t you just with him now?” he asked.

your eyes shut tightly again, eyebrows contorted in pain as you nodded. “i confessed to him. i wanted to tell him before we graduated next month.”

you lifted your hands and covered your face, sobbing into them. “i’ve loved him since middle school.”

loved?

yuta’s shoulders slumped as he stared straight ahead, feeling like he wanted to crawl into a deep dark hole and stay there.

“he-“ you hiccuped. “he rejected me.”

his head snapped down immediately, eyebrows furrowing in a mix of disbelief and anger. “huh? he rejected you?”

you nodded, dropping your hands from your eyes and burying your head in his chest.

“why? what did he say?”

“he said he didn’t feel the same way—” you stopped for a moment to even out your breaths. “and that he was sorry.”

yuta scoffed, shaking his head. “what a big fucking loser.”

you snorted at that, and he looked down at you fondly, relieved you laughed.

“he… he thanked me for everything that i’ve done for your family though, especially you.”

he stayed silent.

“he said he was thankful that i was like another sibling for you, and that i took care of you.”

another sibling?

yuta didn’t say anything, that phrase like a slash through his heart while he still thought about how much of a fucking idiot he was to reject you. you, out of anyone deserved to get everything you wanted. you were selfless, incredibly sweet, the most gorgeous human being to ever walk this earth, and you had done so much for everyone that you neglected your own needs all of the time.

how could he not love you back? how could his brother not see the angel in his life that loved him, that sentiment alone an absolute privilege to have? something he would kill for?

yuta knew he shouldn’t make this about himself. he knew you were absolutely hurting and heartbroken, but he just had to know. it was eating him alive inside and out and over and over again as he kept thinking about it.

“is that how you see me?”

“hu-huh?” you hiccuped, picking your head up from his chest to look at him.

“as another sibling. is that how you see me?”

you blinked up at him, your eyes trailing over his furrowed eyebrows and worried gaze, and you hesitated for a moment, not knowing exactly why.

but you nodded, slowly. “you’re my best friend, yu. you’re not just anyone to me i care a lot about you. more than most people in my life.”

for a moment, yuta looked at you blankly, his mind unable to properly register your words. he didn’t know whether he wanted to cry, call up his brother and yell at him, kiss you, or run away.

a part of him knew that too, that you only saw him as a sibling. but like everything else in his life, he buried it down and chose to pretend like it didn’t exist for the sake of his heart.

but regardless of you not returning his feelings, he would rather be something to you than nothing at all. he would rather make some type of difference in your life and have a special spot, than be an absolute nobody to you.

so he smiled. he smiled with soft sad eyes and nodded, pulling you back in and resting his cheek against the top of your head. “you’re my best friend too.”

yuta didn’t see you around much at his house after that, which he understood.

but you still texted yuta everyday and hung out with him sometimes at school, and you still went to his games and practices and made him ham sandwiches after, and you still gave him that sweet smile he loved so so much.

but he never missed how sad you got around his brother, even at the mere mention of him. he never missed how your eyes stayed glued to the ground or had a far off look to them, your arms wrapped around yourself with a safe distance between you both.

when you graduated high school, yuta was a brat the entire ceremony. he was pissed. so pissed that you were two years older than him and that he wasn’t going to see your pretty self around school anymore, which was pretty much the only reason he tolerated it in the first place.

but when your graduating class threw their caps up into the air and his family went down to congratulate his brother, yuta made a beeline for you instead.

and behind that scowl on his face that he had the entire day, his eyes were glossy.

yuta never cried.

when you noticed, your shoulders instantly dropped and you ran to his open arms, practically throwing yourself on him. “yuuu! don’t cry for me!”

“who said i’m crying?” yuta grumbled into your shoulder.

you pulled back and smiled at him, “i’m gonna miss you the most.”

yuta smiled, but then faltered, and a sliver of fear shot up his spine. was this the last time he was going to see you? was this the start of you both slowly distancing, and then ultimately falling apart? were you still going to call him and text him everyday?

as if you could sense his fear, you quickly shook your head. “you’re literally stuck with me for life. you will never find another best friend to replace me, you got it?”

you waved your little index finger at him sternly, and yuta laughed. “i got it.”

yuta was nineteen when he almost kissed you.

after you graduated high school, luckily you went to a college that was only about a thirty minute drive from his place. you were still in yuta’s life, if not way more than it was before, which he thanked his lucky stars for. you went from being a best friend of his brothers, to being only his best friend, as you and his brother didn’t really talk anymore after high school.

and to that, yuta was happy.

and when he graduated high school, you of course were there, crying and pinching his cheeks and hugging him so tight his back cracked a little bit.

he didn’t go to the same college you did (although he definitely tried but didn’t get in) and went to one that was about forty five minutes away from home, one he commuted to everyday like you did for yours.

you both got so much closer that you obliviously acted like a couple, when you weren’t. yuta would pick you up from class and drive you to lunch, pay for all of your meals and anything you practically wanted despite you fighting him every time on it. he would kiss your forehead and your cheek and throw his arm around your shoulder when you walked, he would call you baby and compliment you every single day, and he would sleep over at your house almost all of the time, your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around your torso.

he knew best friends weren’t really supposed to act like this, but did you? you both had grown so accustomed to it that it wasn’t a weird thing for you both, but the constant questions from your mutual friends or even each others parents was a dead giveaway that it in fact, was not how best friends were supposed to act.

but neither of you seemed to care.

“stop moving yu!” you whispered harshly as you applied an aloe vera mud mask to his face. yuta snickered, dodging your fingers every time they came close to applying the mask, with the only reason he was doing it being because it made you laugh.

you were both sat on your fluffy pink rug in the middle of your room in your pajamas, surrounded by all of your skincare essentials and even the fancy products you only pulled out on special occasions. it was one in the morning at this point and you both were still up, trying to keep your laughter to a minimum in attempts at not waking up your parents downstairs.

“baby this stuff smells kind of funky,” he commented as you applied some to his cheek.

“the funkier the better,” you responded, focused. “kind of smells like you.”

he pinched your side and you giggled, flinching away. “i’m kidding! i’m almost done, don’t move.”

yuta listened and stayed still, watching your concentrated pretty face that was practically inches away from his as you applied the mask to the rest of his face, his poor heart almost giving out.

once you were done, you smiled triumphantly and wiped your fingers with a warm damp towel. “all done!”

yuta smiled fondly at you and kissed your cheek. “thanks. is this what you put on every night?”

you shook your head, “not every night, only when i want my skin to look extra good for special occasions.”

“which is..?”

“it’s usually when you invite me over to your family events or when we eat dinner at that one really nice place by your school.”

yuta stopped at that and he felt his heart clench at your words. he didn’t know why and he usually didn’t let it, but his mind was making him believe that maybe…

no.

he relaxed again, humming in acknowledgement. you picked up a circular pink little tub compartment thing and unscrewed the cap, dipping your ring finger in the shimmery product.

“what’s that?” he asked softly, nodding his head to it.

“it’s my lip scrub!” you responded enthusiastically, lifting your ring finger and scooting closer to him. his eyes looked straight at you as you slid your finger over his lips. “it has kind of like a rough texture, it’s supposed to exfoliate your lips and make them really soft.”

his cheeks slowly turned pink, his eyes trailing down to your lips as you sat back, finished.

“here— put some on me now so you can feel what i’m talking about,” you handed him the little tub and he dipped his index finger in, swallowing the lump in his throat.

he timidly lifted his hand and pressed his finger to your waiting perfect lips, softly and gently running the product on your bottom lip before going to the top, his eyes mesmerized and nearly drooling.

yuta was practically tracing you, wanting to burn forever the shape of your mouth into his brain to remember for the rest of his life, wanting nothing more than to press his lips on yours.

but he inhaled sharply and quickly dropped his hand. “i’m finished.”

you pressed your lips together and spread the product around, “did you feel it?”

he shakily nodded, wiping his finger on the warm damp towel before handing it over for you to do the same.

you held up a corner of the towel to his lips and gently wiped the scrub away, “and now they’re soft.”

you passed the towel back over to him, and you sat back, eagerly waiting for him to do the same.

yuta swallowed again and mimicked you, except he was much slower, much more gentle over your plush lips as he subconsciously leaned closer to you that by the time he was done, his nose almost bumped with yours.

with eyes half lidded, he stared at your lips in a daze, licking his bottom lip slightly as you looked at him with wide eyes. he wanted to, so badly, to just grab your face and press your lips together, to pour the love he’s had for you for the past four years out and cherish you with everything that he has.

“yu?” you spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your breath fanning against his lips.

his eyes immediately snapped to yours and he flinched back like a deer in headlights. “so— so when do i take this off?” he pointed to his face. “the mud mask.. when does it come off?”

you looked at him curiously, your eyebrows slightly pinched together as you tried to make sense of what was happening, if anything even really happened.

“almost..” you responded, unfocused. “in about five minutes.”

yuta quickly nodded and pressed his lips into a thin line, his hands clenched so hard into tight fists that his knuckles turned white.

he couldn’t look you in the eye. what the fuck was he doing? he was going to scare you away if he kept doing things like this, if he kept almost slipping up and doing something that could jeopardize your friendship with him.

your trust.

you nudged his shoulder with your finger, and he finally looked at you.

“is the face mask bothering you that much?” you said with a silly smile, and yuta physically deflated, affection pumping through his system.

“no baby,” he shook his head. “i like it! i think i should keep it on for the rest of the night and go to class with it tomorrow morning.”

you snorted and shook your head, “don’t be mean.”

he raised his hands up frantically, “i’m not! you think everybody has the privilege of getting a free facial by their pretty best friend?” he held up his index finger and wiggled it side to side. “i don’t think so.”

you giggled, so much, and grabbed the warm damp towel again, scooting closer to him by your knees. you began wiping away the mask on his face, being careful of not going too rough in fear of accidentally irritating and hurting him. yuta held you by the hips, assisting in keeping your balance and rubbing little circles into your stomach with his thumbs.

your cheeks went a little pink after a bit.

as the rest of the night went on, and when you both finally settled into bed facing each other— his hand on the side of your hip, you softly traced the rather dark bags under his eyes and frowned.

“you need to get more sleep, yu. i think you’ve had these bags since you were fifteen.”

“it’s because i always grind so i can buy you a big white house with a wiener dog and a picket fence.”

you laughed a little too loud and slapped a hand over your mouth, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his as your shoulders shook. when you settled down, you removed your hand and smiled sweetly.

“only if the house comes with you.”

yuta’s breath hitched, and his eyes searched yours desperately, for any indication that maybe, just maybe, you…

no.

“what… you want me as a roommate?”

you playfully rolled your eyes and gently shoved his shoulder.

yuta was twenty years old when he confessed to you.

it was also the first big fight you guys ever had in your entire years of knowing each other.

your relationship stayed the same, two peas in a little pod through college that never seemed to go to one place without the other, so much so that when you did, people would often ask where the other half was. he loved it. he loved you so much, and he found it harder and harder and more heart breaking for him as the years went by watching you not be his in any way shape or form.

every time he visited your campus or went with you to your college parties, he noticed the lurking eyes it seemed like every guy had on you everywhere you went, and it agitated yuta more than anything else. he was still a stubborn brat, and instead of doing something about it and maybe telling you how he feels, he just endures the pain and scowls at their glances, leading you through crowds by the hand or by the small of your back.

he never really indulged in the traditional college experience like you did, and never ever talked to any other girl besides you. he never wanted to or had any interest in doing so, regardless of you returning his feelings or not. you also never really talked to any other guy besides yuta or made any mention of your dating life, people mostly assuming you both were.

yuta weaved through the crowd, trying to spot a place for the both of you to sit while you went to get drinks from the kitchen. upon finally breaking free from the pile of dancing sweaty bodies, he recognized one of your girl friends and a couple of others sitting on a long lounge sofa, her eyes perking up.

“y/n’s boyfriend! you came?”

he stopped a bit, then smiled wide.

“yeah! she’s in the kitchen now by the way, she’ll be over here in a second.”

and when you did come over, already a bit tipsy from the line of shots you got pulled into while getting drinks, you walked over to where yuta sat while greeting your friends, handing him a red solo cup. and instead of sitting in the spot yuta had saved for you right beside him, you settled neatly on his lap.

his eyes nearly bulged out of their eye sockets as you swung an arm around his shoulders for support and made yourself comfortable. you had never done something like this, and he swallowed the huge lump in his throat as trembling hands settled around your waist and over your lap. his arm tingled with the feeling of your thighs underneath, afraid to put his hands anywhere near them in fear of making you uncomfortable or accidentally grabbing your face and making out with you.

but the chance of that happening wasn’t anywhere near impossible, as he was already tipsy by his drink and his hand was already gently caressing over the skin of your soft plush thighs.

best friends don’t do things like this.

and he did not give a single fuck.

your boobs were practically shoved up in his face, his pinky cheeks absolutely blazing as his eyes darted to every corner of the house and anywhere else that wasn’t your tits, his lips itching to feel, to taste.

the night progressed and the both of you got increasingly more and more drunk, clinging on to each other on the couch or stumbling through the house, laughing when one of you would trip and almost face plant on the hardwood floors, leaning on to each other for support.

“your boyfriend almost knocked over the tub of tropical mix in the kitchen!” your girl friend yelled over the loud booming music, laughing.

yuta expected you to correct her, but you didn’t, and only laughed along with her.

“no it wasn’t him! it was me,” you giggled drunkenly, your arms around his neck as his were tight around your waist, your group standing off to the side of the dance floor. “he had to grab me and pull me from it!”

and that’s how it often was, just you and him. you taking care of him and him taking care of you in every way possible, trying to pay you back for all of the years you spent being there for him when he was younger and way more, simply because he wanted to.

and on a night where yuta was studying for finals in his room, his brother that was visiting from college came in and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“you studying?” he asked.

yuta nodded, not bothering to take his eyes away from his notebook, still scribbling down his notes. he never really had the best relationship with his brother, much less after what had happened with you getting rejected by him.

his brother took a deep breath through his nose and nodded. “i um… are you still friends with y/n?”

that caught his attention, and yuta’s eyes lifted from his notes to look at him. “yes? i’m with her like, most of the time. if you haven’t noticed.”

“no i have,” his brother murmured. “how is she?”

yuta took a second to respond. “she’s good.”

“that’s good that’s good. does she um- does she still have the same number?”

yuta put down his pencil and leaned back against his desk chair. “why?”

“i wanted to just catch up with her is all,” he shrugged. “i saw her when you brought her here for mom’s birthday and i hadn’t seen her since graduation.”

“catch up with her?” yuta mumbled. “since when do you give a shit about y/n?”

his brother scoffed. “i always have, yuta.”

“didn’t seem like it when you rejected her and started dating one of her close friends like the next day.”

his brother didn’t say anything, and yuta rolled his eyes at the lack of response, picking his pencil back up to continue his work.

“i still have her on social media and see what she’s up to… she posts you a lot. are you guys like— a thing?”

yuta bit the inside of his cheek. “no.”

his brother visibly relaxed for whatever reason and nodded. “i just want to talk to her again, is all. maybe buy her dinner—”

yuta pushed his textbook away, dropped his pencil again and spun around, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “fuck no.”

his brother scoffed. “i’m not asking for permission—”

“fuck no.”

“yuta i’m your brother i literally took you to school everyday and took care of you—”

“y/n did that.” yuta cut him off. “y/n gave me rides to school when i didn’t have my license and bought me food when i didn’t have a job. she also came to every single one of my games regardless of the weather and helped me with my homework when i was too stupid to figure it out on my own, everything you should’ve done.”

“that’s not true—”

“yes it is.” yuta crossed his arms in annoyance. “she didn’t have to do any of that. she never had to take care of me the way that she did but she did it anyways. she took on your role because you were too busy being a dingus doing god knows what and she knew that. y/n has done more for me than you’ve ever done in your entire twenty two years of living.”

his brother sat there in silence, yuta’s heavy angry breathing being the only thing heard in the room.

“okay well—” his brother stood from his bed and walked over to the door. “i’m just going to text her—”

“why the fuck are you gonna meddle into her life now? what… are you bored? are you not satisfied with whatever fucking girl you find up there at school?” yuta threw his arms up in irritation, his blood beginning to boil. “you treated her like shit. like absolute dog shit when you ignored her and avoided her for months after she confessed to you. do you understand how disrespectful that is?”

“whatever man it was high school—”

“and what, that gives you a pass to treat her like that? when that happened i was sixteen picking up the pieces you shit all over at your grown age—”

“i’m leaving.”

and with that, his brother walked out and slammed the door shut, and yuta was left absolutely red. red with anger he had never felt before in his life as he grabbed his notebook and chucked it across the room. he hated how casual he spoke of you, like you were just another girl he was going to try and get to know and fuck— to then leave without another word like his brother’s been doing his whole fucking life to girls. but not to you, it couldn’t happen to you.

and it was like yuta was going through the five stages of grief because then he was afraid. what if you let his brother back into your life? what if you fell for him again? you’d done it before the chances were not zero of you doing it again.

yuta didn’t want to lose you. he would rather gauge his eyes out and eat them for breakfast.

with that, yuta stumbled through his room putting on his shoes and snatching his car keys from his night stand, running down the hall and slamming the front door shut before getting in his car.

the drive was only about fifteen minutes to your house, and he felt so bad that it was nearly two in the morning and he was most likely going to wake you up, but he couldn’t stand it. he was going absolutely crazy, everything in him gnawing and eating him alive, his brother having pushed every single button in his body and more.

his tires screeched as he pulled into your driveway, thankful that your parents were away on a getaway trip as he slammed his car door shut and made his way up to your front door. yuta rang your doorbell twice before you finally opened it.

slowly, you peeked your tired eye through the slit, and your body immediately relaxed at the sight of him. “oh my god yuta, you scared the absolute shit out of—”

you stopped, your face falling at his livid expression and the way his chest heaved erratically. “yu? are you okay? what’s going on—”

but yuta only pushed passed you and trudged up your stairs without another word. dumbstruck, you closed your front door with a click and locked it, following him up the stairs and into your room.

“what’s wrong?”

“my brother is visiting from college.” he mumbled, sitting stiff on your desk chair. you moved to stand in front of him.

“…you mentioned that yeah—”

“and he… he told me that he wants to reach out to you.”

your eyebrows furrowed, taken aback. “me? for what?”

“he says he wants to catch up with you, see how you’re doing. be friends again i guess.”

yuta’s eyes remained stuck to the floor like glue, and you remained silent as you processed his words, confused out of your mind.

“i mean… i mean i guess? i guess that’s fine—”

his head snapped up, “that’s fine?”

you shrugged, “yes? i don’t see the big deal i don’t—”

“baby—” he shook his head in disbelief. “he absolutely broke you and treated you like nothing in high school, and you’re fine letting him back into your life? great.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “why are you being like that? he just wants to be friends again and that’s fine with me—”

yuta scoffed. “he doesn’t deserve it! he doesn’t deserve you—”

“yuta, whatever happened between your brother and i was years ago! i’m over it! this isn’t a big fucking deal!”

you hated fighting with him, god how much you hated it, and the way that he looked at you now was making you absolutely sick.

“so you’re just gonna be friends with him again?” he shrugged, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“yeah?”

“you’re fucking stupid,” he spat, getting up from your desk chair and walking over to the door, reaching for your doorknob.

you instantly grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face you. “what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“what’s wrong with me?!” he raised his voice, jabbing a finger to his chest. “what’s wrong with you! do you not remember how bad you got when he did what he did?! do you really think i would stand here okay with you rekindling your little love for my brother?”

you scoffed, “my little love?!”

and before you knew it, angry tears were streaming down your face. you hated the way he was talking to you, and you didn’t know how your argument escalated so quickly and so drastically as you wiped your cheeks furiously.

and at the sight of you crying, yuta faltered slightly, his eyes softening.

“why do you think i still love him? i don’t! i haven’t since he rejected me!—”

“who says you won’t start again?” he spoke lowly, arms crossed over his chest. “my brother never had to lift a fucking finger for you to be head over heels for him. you don’t give a shit about yourself and you’re willing to throw yourself at him again—”

“shut up.” you spat, sobs raking through your body. “the fact that you’re stuffing a bunch of fucking words into my mouth and assuming i’m going to jump into your brothers arms is bullshit.”

“i—”

“is this how low you think of me?”

“no baby i don’t—”

“yes you clearly do because everything that’s come out of your mouth—”

“no! no i’m sorry i don’t—”

“then why—”

yuta shoved his hands into his hair exasperated, “because i love you!”

he let his arms fall limp, his eyes glossy and red with the most gut wrenching look on his face that read pure exhaustion. you had never seen him so torn.

“i love you and i love you and i have since since i was fifteen,” his voice shook with each word, hands trembling at his sides. “more than a best friend, more than anything in this world, and i never saw you like another sibling like you did for me.”

“fi.. fifteen?” you spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear you.

he nodded sadly, silent tears slipping down his cheeks and you automatically reached up, softly wiping them away with your thumbs as he closed his eyes, much like how yuta did when you got your heart broken by his brother on that rainy day.

yuta never cried.

“i swallowed it. you loved my brother and i swallowed it. i didn’t give a shit if you only saw me as a sibling because i would rather make some type of mark in your life and be in it than not have you at all. but i can’t take it anymore.”

he let out a sob, and he instantly shoved his face in the crook of his arm in embarrassment.

“yu…”

“you mean absolutely everything to me baby,” his voice was muffled a bit by his elbow, and after roughly wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his sweater, he dropped his arm to look at you again. “i would do absolutely a-anything for you. you’re precious to me and the prettiest girl i have ever laid my eyes on and will ever lay my eyes on.”

he hiccuped and crossed his arms over his chest, staring up at your ceiling. “but i know you don’t love me like i love you. i’ve known for years and i just can’t bring myself to let you go. it’s so bad that i would rather you break my heart over and over again than let you go for the sake of my wellbeing and watch you walk out of my life—”

“yuta, can you please look at me?”

“i— i can’t,” he shook his head as his voice trembled, tears slipping from the sides of his eyes as he continued to stare at your ceiling. “i can’t do it—”

you slowly reached out and cupped his wet cheeks in the palm of your hands, tilting his face down gently to look at you, your eyes filled with remorse at the defeated look on his face.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked softly. “why didn’t you tell you were hurting so much?”

he shook his head slowly in your hands. “it’s not fair to you. i didn’t want to put you in a difficult position—”

“what difficult position, yu?” you spoke so gently, so sweetly to him that he almost fell to his knees. “how could you have kept this in for five years? i can’t even imagine—” you hiccuped, “i hate that you were hurting because of me-“

your voice began to contort again into sobs, and he quickly shook his head. “no baby no, it was not because of you, you did nothing wrong. you did the exact opposite.”

you wiped more of his tears with your fingers as he spoke, listening intently.

“no one gave a shit about me the way you did. not even my own parents, and not even my stupid brother that pretended like i practically didn’t exist. you were the only one that was there and you didn’t have to be. you could’ve easily ditched me at any given point and you never did, and i can’t thank you enough for giving me a reason to keep going.”

he wiped his eyes. “and that’s why i fell in love with you so hard because you were so selfless and sweet and i love your smile. i don’t think i could ever make up for everything you’ve done—”

“but you have!—” you interjected, but yuta only shook his head.

“no i haven’t. i’m a stubborn asshole who just said a bunch of shit five minutes ago that i didn’t mean and i only hurt you and i never wanted that—”

“yuta.” you spoke firmly. “you’ve literally done more for me than anyone else in my entire life and i hate that you can’t see that or give yourself credit. you were there for me when i went absolutely insane after your brother rejected me even though you loved me then. you put your own feelings aside to take care of me baby..”

you softly took his hands and led him to sit with you on the bed, wiping his wet cheeks with your sleeve.

“do you not remember when even though you didn’t have a job, any chance you got money you would spend it on me instead of yourself?” you laughed softly. “the minute you got your license you drove me anywhere i wanted… and even to little things like the store because you said you didn’t want me to spend gas money.”

yuta slightly smiled.

“you never ditched me either, when there was every opportunity you could’ve. you always make sure i eat and get enough sleep… and you make me so happy yu, i wish you could see how much i miss you when you’re not around.”

he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned in, softly planting a kiss to your cheek. you smiled warmly.

“who told you i didn’t love you back?”

yuta froze. “you did?”

“when?”

“the day my brother rejected you?” he cocked his head to the side. “i had asked you if you saw me as another sibling and you said yes.”

you threw your head back and moaned, “oh my god yu, of course in that moment because i was stupid and into your brother and i had just gotten rejected!”

you deflated and smiled at him warmly then, your eyes shining with emotions he didn’t allow himself to believe were there. for five years, yuta forced himself to believe you could never return his feelings as a form of protection, and now there was a huge wall in his brain that was itching to come down.

you scooted closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, your foreheads touching. “ask me again.”

“hm?” he was dazed, wide eyes staring into yours.

“ask me that question again,” you spoke softly. “the one from that day.”

yuta swallowed thickly, his breathing shaky through his nose, reiterating the phrase he played through his head like a broken record since it happened.

“as another sibling…” he murmured. “is that how you see me?”

you shook your head gently against his forehead, “no… to me—” you leaned back slightly and tilted your head to the side. “you look like the man i’ve been in love with for the past three years.”

silence. nothing.

and then, his eyes welled with tears as he tackled you down and just cried. he cried and he cried into your neck and shook like a little leaf, you holding him so unbelievably tight as your bottom lip wobbled. yuta’s arms were snaked around you as he held you with just as much force if not more.

half a decade. half a decade yuta spent hopelessly lovesick for you that your words burned over his entire body like a fever, his mind reeling and hazy. he held on to you so fucking tight and refused to let go of you, in fear that this was all just some horrendous sick dream and he was going to wake up alone in his bed without you.

you placed a hand on the back of his head as you hugged him, “i love you so much yuta that sometimes i feel like im going nuts.” you laughed softly. “it was always you… it’s been you that’s why i said earlier that i didn’t care if your brother wanted to be friends again, because i love you and i don’t give a shit about him and i’m sorry i made you upset—”

“no,” he lifted his head from the crook of your neck and looked at you, his cheeks flushed with dried up tears and red eyes. “that was just me being an absolute dick and scared of re-living high school all over again. i took that out on you and that wasn’t fair at all, baby. i’m sorry.”

you carded your fingers through his hair. “we both have things to be sorry about, and a lot of years to make up for.”

and finally, yuta grinned so big that his cheeks hurt.

“can i—“ he exhaled shakily. “can i kiss you?”

“please.”

and he smashed his lips against yours, greedily kissing you with so much desperation as he lip locked with you, his hands squeezing and roaming your body. the sound of your lips smacking was loud, and his kisses were so needy and sloppy against your soft plush lips that you squeaked at the intensity. you felt him grin again at your noise and he pulled away from you.

“i’ve wanted this for so long…” he breathed out, his breath fanning against your face as you tried to recover from what was probably the best kiss of your life. you nodded frantically, too dazed and caught up in the thought of his mouth on yours to respond with sentences that made sense.

he chuckled cutely at this, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i love you and i love you.”

and since then, it was like the final wall had finally crumbled down, and yuta began to live like he was supposed to, like he was meant to, with you. his days of yearning and silent torment were over, and most of the time it still felt like a dream whenever he was by your side.

things stayed relatively the same between you two, as you now acknowledge how much of a couple you both actually were acting prior to yuta’s confession. the only major difference now though, was that yuta earned the privilege to call you his and give you sweet kisses as he picked you up from class, or when you make and hand him those ham sandwiches you always do just for him, only this time adorned with a honeyed kiss of your own.

sitting on his living room couch now, your head resting on his lap as a random horror movie played in the background, yuta’s fingers gently brushed over the features of your face as you stared at the tv, his eyes stuck to you like sticky lovesick glue.

you turned your head to look at him after a bit. “why don’t you start playing soccer again?” you hummed. “is there a team at your school?”

yuta nodded, “there is baby.”

“why don’t you try out?” you smiled sweetly at him, and his heart ached. “i always loved watching you play. i miss it.”

“okay,” he tapped your nose. “just for you.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “and i’ll start dragging your brother with me again.”

yuta’s eyes flung open as his jaw dropped, and you snorted, giggling uncontrollably as he tickled and pinched at your sides. “i’m just kidding! i’m kidding! i’d rather die.”

he let out a boyish laugh, his eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. “as much as i hate him, i can’t thank him enough for being a stupid dingus.”

you quirked an eyebrow, “thank him? why?”

yuta gently and softly pinched one of your cheeks as he smiled at you, and it was then that you noticed the bags under his eyes were nearly gone. he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, moving some of your hair away from your face after he did so.

“because he brought you to me.”

and you smiled, that same radiant sweet smile that made him fall in love with you in the first place, as you reached up and ran a tender finger under where his eye bags once stood, your voice light and airy as you spoke—

“i love you and i love you, yuta.”

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nicksolemnlyswears · 2 months ago

Text

JUST TEASIN’

summary: you call joel an old man…amongst other names

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 4.4k [i need to learn how to keep things concise]

warnings: 18+, cursing, spanking, p in v, fingering, oral (male receiving), age gap? totally legal though, joel's in his early 40s and reader is in her early 30s, joel is an ass guy which is strange cause i always make my men boob guys, idk i guess this is pretty tame

a/n: as a joke i tend to call pedro and joel peepaw cause he’s older and a total dilf but i love these men so fucking much. i'll be the first to get on my knees

thought i’d make a sweet oneshot about how they’d react to you calling them old. it’s a mix of fluff and smut. a little something for everyone!

also don’t judge me, this is my first time writing for joel 🥺

there’s a little nudge to another favorite fictional men of mine

i want to thank @yxtkiwiyxt for providing me with all the pedro pascal pictures and gifs and movie trailers and for ranting with me all day every day about how amazing this human is… if anyone is to blame about this oneshot it’s her ❤️

It’s one of those lazy Sunday mornings where everyone sleeps in, leaving the Miller household at complete ease. There are no responsibilities to tend to and nowhere to go.

You’re the only one awake, singing quietly under your breath and flipping pancakes until they’re nice and golden. Joel will come seeking you out soon, missing the warmth of your body and Sarah will follow when Joel cracks her door open to let the sweet smell of batter waft into her room.

No matter how hard you try you’re always the first one up. Sometimes you stay in bed with your husband, tracing figures on his bare skin until he pulls you into him and kisses your head good morning, raspy voice begging you for five more minutes.

But most of the time you decide on getting up and having an early start to your day, which includes making breakfast and sorting through your work emails.

The puppy Sarah adopted a couple weeks ago, sits on your feet, licking your legs as if begging for the fluffy sweetness of the pancakes. He had a taste of it when batter dripped on the floor, he licked it up before you had the chance of cleaning it.

Lost in your little world, singing to the tune of Lana del Rey you fail to notice your husband coming down the stairs. Joel leans against the kitchen island admiring you in your distracted state. The loose brown curls in a disarray at the top of his head.

His eyes scan you from head to toe, noting your messy hair pulled up to a half ponytail half bun thing he can’t begin to explain. Down they go to the cropped tshirt with his company’s logo on the back. The frayed edges are the byproduct of your use of kitchen scissors to crop it yourself.

Joel bites his lip as he ogles at your ass and thick thighs framed by the tiniest cotton shorts he’s ever seen. They fail to cover the bottom of your butt cheeks, exposing a sliver of the indigo panties and the crease where thighs meet butt.

Unable to stay away, Joel wraps his warm arms around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. He squeezes you to him, bodies pressed flushed to reveal the stiffness in his pajama pants.

The puppy wags his tail in the presence of his favorite human, standing on two legs to call his attention. The man didn’t want him in the first place but was out voted by the females in the household.

“Morning,” Joel murmurs, placing kisses all over your cheeks and down your neck until he finally presses a warm kiss on your shoulder where he rests his chin to look over at the stovetop.

“Morning old man,” you say with a giggle as his scruffy beard tickles your skin. Your lips press against his in a quick kiss, muffling his sigh of disappointment.

“Don’t start, sweetheart,” he warns. His lips brushing against your ear. Joel’s hands find themselves under your tshirt, his thumbs ghosting over your underboob. At the same time the fingertips of his other hand teasingly dip on the waistband of your shorts.

“Or what?” You say with a bite to your lip, flipping over the last batch of pancakes. Couple more seconds and they would’ve burned—that’s how much he distracts you.

“It’s too early for this!” Sarah’s high pitched voice yells. “Not in the kitchen and not in front of the baby, please!”

The puppy scrambles over to Sarah, jumping into her arms. He recognizes she’s the one who will cave and give him scraps of food.

Joel, startled, takes his hands off of you, facing Sarah with an apologetic smile, not that she sees it as she covers her eyes with a hand. “Are you decent? Can I look now? I’m really hungry if you don’t mind.”

You laugh loudly, shaking your head at Sarah’s dramatics. She takes after Joel and is well on her way to beat him at his own game.

“We’re not doin’ anythin’,” Joel mumbles, sitting on one of the kitchen island stools and petting the pups fluffy head, and the ear that flipped over cutely.

“Not yet,” you whisper to him as you place his stack of pancakes in front of him.

“I heard that!” Sarah yells, covering her ears this time. Joel laughs, nudging her shoulder and telling her to pass the syrup.

You lean across from them, grabbing a sliced strawberry to plop into your mouth. Sarah takes over the conversation as you and Joel share a glance. This is far from over.

Later on the day you head outside with a tray of lemonade and pie in your hands. You’ve gotta take care of your dear husband before the Texas heat gets the best of him.

You nudge Joel’s leg with your foot. He’s under the beat up truck, fixing some odd part. He has the means to replace the old thing but he likes to remind you that ‘Betsy,’ as he’s named his truck, is a part of the family and will never be replaced.

“Thanks, darlin,‘“ he drawls, wiping his dirty hands on a random rag he found on the bed of the truck.

Joel takes a second too long to get up from the floor. You see the hesitance in his eyes as he tries to think the best way to stand without hurting or pulling a muscle.

This is your chance. “Need help there, grandpa?” You pipe up, resting the tray on the portable table scattered with tools.

Joel openly glares at you while you smile broadly at him. It’s not often you make fun of his age, or rather, the age gap between the two of you. It’s only when you’re feeling a particular sort of way.

The age gap between the two of you isn’t the craziest but it’s large enough for people to notice. Joel is easily through the first half of his fourth decade, while you are barely entering your third.

“Watch your mouth,” Joel warns you, standing up quickly despite the cracking of his knees and the ache on his lower back.

Your eyes spark when he grabs the glass of cool lemonade and begins chugging it. The drops of sweat sliding down his neck and into the damp collar of his shirt stealing your attention and any innocent thought you’ve might’ve had about him. They weren’t many to begin with.

You clench your thighs together as you imagine licking that same trail, tasting his salty skin. Say what you want but you love a man that works with his hands and gets all dirty and grimy.

Joel catches onto the glazed look covering your eyes and grasps your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. His body gravitating towards yours as if nature demanded it.

You’re overly conscious of the motor oil covering his hands if not you would’ve sucked his thumb into your mouth, reminding him just exactly you can do with your tongue.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, darlin’?”

Him. It’s all about him. He’s always interrupting whatever sane thought you have. Scenarios of you being bent over the hood of the truck as he sinks his aching length from behind. You riding him in the front seat as you’ve done on more than one occasion, fogging up the windows. The time he was knuckles deep inside of you, teasing fingers drenched during his lunch break.

“How good gray looks on you,” you reply, diverting the conversation somewhere else entirely. A delicate fingers wraps around the charming curl that constantly falls over his forehead, twirling it around.

Joel doesn’t take kindly to your comment, rolling his eyes and clicking his jaw as he lets go of you to return to the truck. Your hand which had been playing with his curl drops to your side as you cock your hip to assess him.

He’s much too aware of the age gap, it makes him insecure. Like you’ll one day realize you’re with an old man and leave him for someone younger.

Except in your eyes he’s the most perfect man alive. The grey streaks of hair that mix with the typical brown of his curls give him an air of authority, making him look dashing in all ways. A silver fox. Strong muscles from working manual labor most of his life are now covered with a healthy layer of fat but remain strong nonetheless. Warm brown eyes that sweep you off your feet every morning as soon as they open.

That man is aging like fine wine and he doesn’t begin to realize it. You feel extremely lucky to be the only one to enjoy it…squeaky joints and all.

Joel is experienced and mature and loyal. He simply wants to have a nice life with his family. A family you’re now a part of. It’s all a woman could ask for.

“You know I love you,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around him as he leans over the hood.

“Love to torture me,” he scoffs, taking hold of one of your hands affectionately. He can never stay mad at you.

“I don’t know what you mean? I brought you lemonade and even that apple pie you love so much,” you feign innocence, pressing a kiss to the middle of his back.

Facing you with a sigh, he lets his heavy hands fall on your hips, “What’re you playing at?”

“Me? Nothing,” you say with a wicked smile, “I’m gonna go with Sarah to the mall to get her homecoming dress. Will you be alright here with Ghost?”

He’s quickly distracted by the words Sarah and Homecoming. His babygirl is growing too fast, starting High School and going on dances with boys. She hasn’t told him yet if she’s been invited by someone and he hopes it stays that way.

There’s no way he’s letting her go with a date and you can’t convince him other wise. If she wants a date she can take the puppy she adopted, Ghost. Joel is determined to teach the ball of fur how to defend his daughter.

“Here,” he says, pulling out his wallet to hand you his credit card.

“No, it’s my treat!” You say, pushing his hand away.

“Take it,” Joel insists, trying to slip it into the tight pair of jeans you’re wearing. Fuck. How didn’t he notice until now.

It should be illegal to wear jeans that make you look THAT good. The blue material hugs your thighs tightly and lifts your perky ass to heaven—not that you other wise need it.

He doesn’t hold back and slides his palms on your back pockets, giving you a firm squeeze. You stumble, falling onto him with a weak protest.

“‘M so fucking lucky you’re my woman,” he groans, taking another feel. Temporarily forgetting the conversation at hand, yet another comment directed at his age snaps Joel back to reality.

“Honey, I know I married an older man but it wasn’t for your money,” you tease again, patting his cheek and removing his hands from your pockets—credit card and all.

A sharp slap to your ass, startles you, eliciting a cheeky giggle. All this teasing and you’re leaving him home alone with the mutt.

You don’t apologize, you’ll never apologize for teasing him. Unless it’s in the right circumstances…in his bed.

Towards the end of the night you finish pushing him to the edge of no return. Remember, opportunities are always around when you’re determined.

“Dad, can you sign this for school?” Sarah comes into the living room where you and Joel are watching a movie. Ghost’s head is plopped on his lap, where Joel had been ‘forced’ to pet him.

“What’s this for?” Joel tries to read the paper but has to keep it at arms reach to be able to read it. Failing, he searches for his glasses until Sarah points at his head where they’ve been resting for half the night, nestled between his curls.

You stifle a laugh as you think of what to say. “Sorry Sarah, good old peepaw needs his glasses to read.”

It’s clear you’re pushing it far as Joel freezes only to glare at you. If looks could kill you’d be six feet underground. Sarah laughs until her belly hurts, repeating the word peepaw between breaths.

“You two are bullies,” Joel shakes his head in disbelief, signing the permit and handing it to Sarah who is wiping her tears away.

“I’m heading to bed, goodnight old man,” Sarah tells a pouting Joel, kissing his cheek and running up the stairs. “Come on, Ghost. Bedtime!”

“Peepaw? Really?” Joel raises his eyebrows at you when both Sarah and Ghost are gone.

You shrug feigning innocence, hiding your smile with the edge of the blanket. ”Yeah, peepaw. It’s cute.”

“It ain’t cute,” Joel kisses his teeth before turning off the TV and standing from the couch, leaving you behind.

“Where are you going?” You call after him.

“To bed,” he dryly responds, shutting off the lights and climbing the stairs. He only leaves the lamp by the couch on. How considerate of him.

“What? Joel it’s barely 10!” Hiding your satisfaction is difficult. Joel’s ticked off, a day of calling him old will do that. It’s exactly what you hoped for.

“Guess that’s what old men do, darlin,’” Joel says sarcastically half way up the stairs.

With a hand over your mouth, you follow him, “Honey, come on. Don’t be angry, it’s harmless teasing. Are you really heading to bed?”

Joel turns at the top of the stairs, glaring down at you, “You really think I’m an old man?”

“Technically speaking you are an older man,” you quip, scrunching your nose cutely.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Joel crosses his arms, reprimanding you for your cheekiness.

“I dunno why you get like this, you should know I love my older men,” you say sultrily, although it falls on deaf ears as Joel retreats to the bedroom.

When you step into the bedroom you’re instantly pressed against the door, slamming it shut. Joel’s sneaky hands lock it. “You’re playing a dangerous game, darlin.’ Don’t make me bend you over my knee and give you a spanking.”

The thought alone makes you shudder in delight. Wetness instantly seeping into your underwear. You’ve finally succeeded. You have him right where you want him.

With your hands braced on his chest you deliver the final blow. “You sure your knees can take it?”

Disbelief flashes in Joel’s eyes, “That’s it!”

Grabbing your arms Joel leads you to the bed where he sits on the edge. He roughly pull down on your jeans, panties and all, leaving them pooled on your knees, limiting your mobility.

With another tug he lays you face down on his lap, holding your wrists behind you in a tight grip. Joel shakes his head at your upturned ass that’s waiting a little too eagerly for his touch.

Delight bubbles out of you and Joel is determined to take you down a notch or two. Let’s see how you handle this after fucking with him all damn day.

The first swat comes without warning, eliciting a gasp from you. It’s sharp and borderline painful. A red handprint magically appearing on your left butt cheek.

Joel massages and paws at the skin, getting ready to deliver another one. “Cat got your tongue?” He questions at your sudden silence.

You try to look over your shoulder and say, “Is that all you got?”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves Joel’s mouth. Then, three fast slaps are delivered, successfully earning him a whine from your pretty lips. He rubs on the sweltering flesh, easing some of the sting.

Finding their way to your thighs his fingers dig between them to cup your pussy. It’s no surprise that it’s warm, messy and slick. Clear strands extending from it to the inside of your thighs and covering his digits.

You’re a fucking vixen who loves to torture him for your own fucking pleasure and he’s the damn fool who falls for it each and every time.

“Touch me,” you huff, wiggling on his lap to grind on his hand, hoping to gain more contact with his coated digits.

“Touch you? Oh, darlin’ you’re not getting off the hook so easily,” Joel mentions darkly, retrieving his hand and landing yet another smack to your ass, making it ripple from the impact.

“Ow!” You flinch yet remain in the same position, expecting more. You fucking love when Joel gets rough with you. It’s a shame you have to gauge it out of him like this.

“Wasn’t this what you wanted? Hm?” Joel’s asks and when he doesn’t get a response his hand flies down once more. “What was it you called me?”

There’s a beat of silence before his hand strikes, this time aiming towards the middle. “Gra-grandpa,” you stutter at the small burst of pleasure.

“Mhm, what else darlin’?” He prompts again. His middle finger tracing the slit of your pussy, feeling you grow impossibly wetter. His pretty little wife is always so reactive to his touch.

“Old man.”

The stinging in your skin grows warmer, no doubt turning a considerable shade of cherry red. Yet the ache in your cunt obscures it all. The scraps of attention only makes your arousal worse.

“I think there was one more,” Joel hums, urging you on. His slick finger teasing your weeping entrance.

“P-peepaw,” you gasp when Joel pushes it in until his knuckle meets your delicate skin.

“That’s right, peepaw,” Joel repeats absentmindedly, pushing his middle finger in and out. Listening intently to the squishing sound your pussy makes.

He’ll have you calling him something else by the end of the night.

Tight walls grip his finger like a vice, refusing to let go. Soft puffs of air tumble out of your mouth and he knows your eyes are closed as you concentrate on the minimal pleasure he’s providing you with. It’ll never be enough to make you cum but it’ll keep you bothered.

“Get up,” Joel orders with a softer smack to your bottom, wiping his slick covered finger on your skin. He helps you up from the restrained position he kept you in and makes work of taking off your clothes.

Joel pulls and tugs on your shirt roughly, throwing it mindlessly across the room. He palms your tits briefly, pinching one of your nipples to make you whine his name. With cracking knees he kneels on the floor to help you out your jeans and underwear, kneading your thighs with his big strong hands.

He catches a glance of your reddening skin and feels a prickle of pride at the mark he left. Most of it will fade by morning but you’ll feel it nonetheless.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed he wordlessly motions you to get on your knees. A wicked smile spreads on your cheeks as you do as you’re told, kneeling between his spread legs.

Eager hands grasp his belt, undoing the worn leather to get to the button of his jeans. He provides no help, leaning back on his hands and simply watching you with hooded and expecting eyes.

You pull down on his jeans and underwear, revealing the happy trail that comes down his navel to the patch of brown at his pelvis.

His hard cock springs free once you’ve worked his pants down enough. A throaty groan coming from above you at the release of tension.

“Mmm,” you hum, grasping his length in your fist. His eyes meet yours when you look up to press a kiss to the tip, your hand pulling the thin skin back to reveal it.

“Stop with the teasin,’” Joel growls audibly, chastising you.

You rolls your eyes obnoxiosuly, “You’re no fun, g-“

A hand flies to your hair, gripping the roots tightly. Your eyes fly open, starting up at Joel. “You sure you want to finish that sentence, babygirl?”

“Maybe not,” you shrug with a pout, your hand mindlessly pumping his length.

“That’s what I thought.” Joel keeps his grip on your hair, pulling it back to see every detail of you taking his cock into your pretty mouth.

Your tongue goes flat against the underside of his shaft, tracing the vein that runs along his length and letting saliva drip all down and into your fisted hand. Joel watches intently as your lips wrap around the angry red tip of his cock.

You start off slow taking more of his length with each bob of your head. Your eyes never leaves his face, observing every small reaction he makes. The sharp intake of breath when your tongue grazes his tip, the furrowing of his eyebrows, the bobbing of his adam’s apple as he fails to keep his moans in.

The sudden jerk of Joel’s hips causes your eyes to water and screw shut. The initial intrusion of his cockhead unexpected yet welcome. Joel throws his head back, “That’s a fucking good girl.”

Those magic words make everything worth it as you messily continue to suck and lick every inch of his cock. Neither the tears in the corner of your eyes nor the saliva dripping down his length stop you from tasting him.

You swear you’re dripping on the floor as your pussy flutters at his pleased words. You could touch yourself but all your energy and attention goes to pleasing the man above you.

The pain of kneeling hard wood floor for an extended period of time doesn’t bother you and the ache on your jaw is barely noticeable because all your concentration is on Joel and making him feel good.

Joel continues to set the pace, his grip tight on your scalp. “Fuck, just like that,” he moans when you tease the crown of his cock expertly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Joel’s voice lilts in a reprimanding voice.

A string of saliva connects you to the tip of him as your hand continuing to work on the rest of his length.

Joel takes note of your red rimmed eyes and flushed nose as well as in your swollen lips and moussed hair. The picture of you completely filthy and sexy.

Joel cups the back of your neck, bringing you up to his height. He brings you into a sloppy kiss consisting of teeth and tongue and saliva. Joel loves that can taste himself in your mouth. A job well done.

You straddle his lap so his cock grazes your dripping pussy, tugging needily at his tshirt. “Take it off,” you beg. Your lips separate for a brief second as the shirt comes off before they smash back together.

He complies but quickly reminds himself that this all started because you were calling him old. He can’t be quick to reward you.

You foolishly believe that’s it and you get to have him. Eagerly you try to sink into his cock but he holds you still, not letting you take him to the hilt.

“Who’s the tease now?” You pant against his lips, stealing another long kiss before whispering in his ear begging him to take you, to use you.

“I like to see you begging for it.” That’s Joel’s response as he pushes you off of him.

You protest but fall silent when he removes his remaining clothes. God you’re like a teenager desperate to fuck with clothes and all.

It drives Joel nuts the way you look at him with lust filled eyes. You bite your lip as you take him in all his glory, hands reaching to touch his chest.

He pulls you back to him, his cock wedged between the two of you. The saliva covering it, sticking to your skin. He cups your face, “You have something to say?”

“Nope.”

Joel to cos his head in disappointment, pushing you into bed and maneuvering you till your head is buried in the pillows and your ass is high in the air. It’s tinged a dozen shades of pink and red from his hands.

You wiggle your hips offering yourself to him. Air hits your pussy, giving you an idea of how aroused you are. That’s what happens whenever you have the pleasure of going down in Joel.

Joel grips himself, spreading his pre before pumping his hand. Smack. His hand flies down to strike your ass once more. Your back arches when Joel teases your entrance with the tip. He runs it up and down your slit, wetting it with your slick. He lightly pushes into you so only the tip is inside before he pulls out again.

“Please fuck me,” you plead breathlessly, attempting to rock back to get more of him inside you.

Joel laughs. “Now you’re nice and polite. Is there something else you want to tell me?” He asks expecting an apology.

“No,” you repeat stubbornly.

He’ll get you soon enough. There’s no way you’ll resist.

Joel’s cock brushes against your clit, making you jump and moan. He does it again and again. Your pussy clenches desperately wanting him inside of you.

“You sure? You don’t want to apologize?” He gives you another chance. Sinking his cock deeper into you to give you a taste before he pulls out.

You huff and pout but you can’t take it anymore. You need him. “I’m sorry!”

“Now, was that so hard,” Joel grunts, pushing his length all the way in, rewarding you.

You bury your head into the pillow, stifling the guttural moan that rips from your throat. You could die like this suffocated and blissfully impaled on Joel’s cock and be happy.

With a tight grip on your waist Joel fucks into you at his own pace, watching how easily you accept him, covering him with your essence. It feels fucking fantastic.

His skin slaps against yours rhythmically. You swear you can cum at that moment but Joel knows all your tells and he slows his pace, pushing into you only when the tip remains. Long, slow strokes keeping you from cumming.

“I wanna cum,” you cry out frustrated but he ignores you, edging you.

“If you want to cum tonight you have to stop calling me old,” Joel grits. This is torture for him as much as it is for you.

“I said I’m sorry,” you sob into the pillow, your back arching as you try and take matters into your own hands. Smack, another spank, warning you to stop.

“Will you stop calling me grandpa?”

You have the audacity to fucking hesitate. He’s serious about not letting you cum but he’s confident he’ll get you to cave in.

Joel pulls out his cock when you refuse to answer. He instantly misses the warmth and tightness of your walls. His cock is soaked with your slick, a creamy white substance covering him from root to tip.

Licking his middle and ring fingers he replaces his cock, feeling your walls clench around them. He pumps them angling them downward to reach that spot inside of you, his other hand pressing on your lower back so you arch more.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp when this thumb presses on your bud. An orgasm quickly building. “Please Joel.” You wanted to cum around his cock not his fingers but at this point you’ll take anything you can get. Your mind is completely clouded and years for release.

“Did you reconsider what you wanted to call me?” Joel curves his fingers, quickening the pace.

“Yes,” you whine as your hips grind against his hand.

“And what’s that?” His fingers are sticky, your essence dripping down his hand.

“Please, daddy,” you cry abashedly, hiding your reddening face in the pillows.

“I didn’t hear ya’ darlin’. How about you look at me when you speak?” Joel dares to say while his fingers continue to drive into you.

Fuck, your legs are shaking and the knot continues to tighten in your belly. You have to say it or Joel will stop. You turn your head to meet his eyes, “Please, daddy.”

“That’s more like it,” Joel’s raspy voice says, removing his fingers when you’re at the cusp once more.

You audibly groan in frustration but it’s interrupted when Joel eases his cock back into you Fucking you just as you want it, hard and fast.

The bed sheets are fisted in your hands as you hold on. Your nipples brushing against the bed with each thrust. It doesn’t take long at all for you both to titer over the edge. Your pussy squeezing tightly around him, milking him for all he’s worth.

When Joel pulls out you fall to lie on your stomach, catching your breath. He lies beside you doing the same. Sharing a glance you both start laughing.

“Next time you want it rough just tell me,” Joel shakes his head at you. He knew all along and yet it still pissed him off.

“It’s not the same, honey,” you sigh, kissing his shoulder. The nearest part of him you can reach without moving too much.

The following morning you wake up with a kink in your back and Joel being the ever loving husband brings you painkillers to bed where you’re lying still, “Take these grandma. They’ll make you feel better.”

He won’t ever call you ‘grandma’ again. The daggers you sent him were fucking terrifying.

listen...typically i'm not the biggest fan of the daddy kink...but when it works, it works

#fanfiction #nicksolemnlyswears #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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briefinquiries · 3 months ago

Text

Tyler Owens x Reader: The Storm Inside Your Mind

Request: Anonymous said: "tyler x reader with panic attacks"

Word count: 2k

Warnings: panic attack tw

A/N: obviously stole some of Kate's trauma for this one... I feel like I've written a few fics where reader has panic attacks now, so sorry if this sounds repetitive at all. But as always, thank you all for the kind words, replies, and comments on my work. It's super encouraging and very appreciated!!

The team isn’t chasing today. Instead, you set up the RV and some tents at a campsite, hoping to enjoy what little time you had left of tornado season.

Tyler gets a fire going while Boone and Dexter drag the camp chairs around it. There’s only half an hour or so left of daylight, and the crew decides s’mores will do just fine for dinner.

Boone makes a joke about s’mores meeting all his nutritional food group needs, everyone laughs. Tyler settles into the chair beside you, his knee gently grazing against yours to catch your attention.

When you look at him, he winks. A silent toss of affection. A sweet reminder that it’s you and him, even amongst the chaos of all your friends.

The sun sets, casting a thousand shades of pinks and purples through the sky. It’s mesmerizing– the evening is perfect.

It’s amazing how quickly things can fall apart.

All it takes is one note–

Dani grabs their guitar and begins strumming softly to no tune in particular. Then Boone shouts out a song request that makes your breath catch. You try to be subtle, but you notice Tyler’s eyes lingering on you, because he can read you just as well as he can read any storm.

You offer him the best, most reassuring smile that you can– and it must be good enough, because he looks back towards the fire.

You pick at the skin around your nails, because it’s always been a good distraction. But even that isn’t enough when Dani plays the first note–

“Took my love and I took it down,” they sing softly.

And then suddenly, you can’t breathe. All you can hear is your best friend asking you to turn up the volume to her favorite song when it had come on the radio only minutes before everything had gone so, so wrong.

Normally, you can talk yourself down from these moments, you can practice all the grounding exercises your therapist taught you and move on. But you feel the sense of panic creeping up your throat and it’s strong and fast. You don’t think you can deep breathe your way out of this one without anyone noticing.

In a rush, you stand up from your camp chair and mumble something incoherent about needing to go. It’s not very subtle, but it’s all you can manage before stumbling into the RV– aiming for the bathroom.

Tyler calls your name, but all you hear is the sound of your friend screaming it over the increasing winds as they reached for you.

From there it only gets worse–

It comes in waves– memories of Fleetwood Mac still playing from the radio while you sat in the car and frantically tried to decide which way to run– the realization that no matter where you went, the tornado was going to consume you– knowing that the overpass was the worst place to go, but your alternative was remaining out in the open. Your name tumbling from your friend's lips as she begged you to help pull her up the ramp because her shoes kept slipping. The sound of her scream when the chunk of debris sent her flying into the storm. You losing sight of her body after only a second–

The bathroom door rattles. “Y/N?” Tyler calls with a knock. “What happened?”

“What happened?” your friend’s dad had asked with tears spilling down his cheeks after the officer told them that their daughter was dead. “What the hell happened?”

“There’s no storm,” you whisper to yourself. “The skies are clear– there’s no storm.”

Tyler calls your name a second time and knocks harder– the door rattles. You grip the edge of the sink and bite down harshly on your lip to keep yourself from screaming. Because despite the calm conditions outside, the storm inside your mind is here– it’s rattling the door and shaking the RV– it’s creating dark clouds, and causing them swirling around in every corner of your body– winds are flying through your stomach and your chest, the air is heavy, it’s harder to breathe–

You put your hands over your ears and sink to the floor helplessly.

“Y/N, answer me,” Tyler’s panicked– you can hear it in his voice. “I swear to God, I’m gonna kick this door down–”

You try to inhale– to tell him not to do that– that repairing a door will be expensive. But instead of finding your words, all you can do is choke out a desperate sob. The storm has stolen all your air– it’s sucked it right from your lungs…

Before you can try again, the entire bathroom shakes when the hinges on the door break loose with a bang. Tyler’s eyes land on you– huddled on the floor, gasping for the breath you can’t find.

Except– it’s not Tyler. It’s your friend’s dad. He’s come to get you– to kill you like you killed his daughter.

You attempt to push yourself backwards on the floor, but the bathroom is small and soon, you've only managed to wedge yourself between the toilet and the wall. You try to speak again– to tell him how sorry you are for getting his daughter killed– but you can’t. Clutching desperately at your chest, you heave and heave, squeezing your eyes shut.

The storm inside your mind causes the clouds to start swirling around chaotically–

The storm inside your mind rips trees right from the roots–

The storm inside your mind destroys everything in its path–

“Baby–” a familiar warm voice cuts through the fog. And then, suddenly, someone grips your knee, causing your entire body to seize.

“It’s me,” a gentle voice murmurs. "Hey, it’s me.“

Through your foggy haze, you recognize Tyler’s touch– and when you open your eyes, you see him squatting down to get on your level.

But your knees– you open your mouth to say, except all that comes out is a gasp– a plea for help.

“Okay, it’s okay. Look at me, baby,” he says. “It’s okay– you’re okay.”

“I– can’t–” you gasp, your own hands flying up to grip his forearms for some sort of lifeline to reality. “I can’t– breathe–”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says. He’s trying to stay calm, but you can hear the uneasiness in his voice. “With me.”

He gives a deep, methodical inhale before letting out a slow, intentional exhale. “Just do it with me. Slow, like this.”

He continues, and you try to match his pace– to breathe with him, but it feels like the storm has stolen your lungs– ripped them right out of your chest–

“Tyler–” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I can’t–”

“C’mon, with me,” he repeats earnestly. He’s looking at you with terror in his eyes, but you find comfort in their familiarity just the same. “We’ve done this before, you know how to do this.”

“I– I–” you stammer, but the words won’t form.

“Shh, with me. Everything’s okay. I’m here. We’re both okay,” he assures you. His gaze is just so tender and soft and careful while his thumb grazes your cheek.

“I- I can’t-” you choke again, “Please–”

“Shh-” he soothes. “Look at me, nothing else, just me.”

Your wide, desperate eyes meet his. You don’t say anything, just shudder and gasp frantically.

“With me,” he repeats.

Tyler slow and calming, in and out breathes. After a few seconds, you latch onto the sound, mimicking it, and then finally follow along.

“There you go,” he whispers.

Your facial features slowly start to relax as you’re able to breathe properly. Without your loud, choking sobs, you’re able to hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest frantically.

“Good job,” Tyler sighs. “Look, it’s just you and me, we’re okay, we're both safe–”

But he can’t even finish his sentence before you lean forward and reach for him. Tyler takes advantage of your gesture and quickly grips under your arms, yanking you from the corner and pulling you forward. He sits back on the floor, back resting against the door frame while he rests you on his lap. As soon as he’s settled, you wind your arms around his neck– desperate and longing for some sort of comfort.

Strong, sturdy arms wrap around you as you hide your face into his chest. You breathe him in, letting his familiar scent wash over you. The sound of his heartbeat races in your ear (bum, bum, bum, bum). It reminds you that you’re both here– right now. Not stuck in an underpass, not chasing a tornado. But here– on the floor in the RV bathroom.

“It’s okay,” Tyler soothes. Upon feeling your shaky body pressed against his, he squeezes tighter. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I got you.”

You melt against him in response, bunching the fabric of his shirt into your fist, trying to communicate just how badly you need him to hold you right now.

And that’s exactly what he does— until you can finally breathe on your own again.

And then the wave of guilt comes.

Suddenly the realization of everything hit you– what a basketcase you’ve been, running off like that, having a meltdown in front of everyone– you probably scared the shit out of them. And then there’s the door– broken right from the hinges.

Slowly, you pull back.

“Are you okay?” Tyler says before you can even open your mouth. He brushes the strands of loose hair from your face.

You exhale a deep, shuddering breath that you can feel down your entire body. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice raw.

“Baby, you don’t have to run from me when you’re having a panic attack. I’m here for you, you know that.”

“I know,” you whimper. “I know– I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to freak out–”

“Shh. Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” Tyler says. “You don’t have to apologize. I just– I want you to come to me when you’re struggling. I want to be able to help you.”

“I just—” you start, but you stop when you notice how choked up your voice sounds. You take a slow breath. “I can't think clearly when they come. All I could think about was getting away. I didn't want to scare you– I wanted to prove to you that I was doing better– that I wasn’t going to freak out all the time. But it–”

As soon as you feel the tears burning behind your eyes, you dig the heels of your palms into them frustratedly, like you were physically trying to push them away.

“It was the music. That was her favorite song.” You didn’t even have to say your friend’s name for Tyler to know what you were talking about. “I just… I heard that first note and I panicked– I just felt like I had to get away.”

Tyler nodded in understanding. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he whispered. “Next time, you drag me to the bathroom with you and we’ll get through it together, okay? I think that’ll save us many doors in the future.”

You exhale a puff of air, your best attempt at laughter.

“I’m just sorry you have to deal with me all the time. You have enough on your plate,” you groan, rubbing your tired eyes.

Tyler sighs. “Baby, I drive around and chase tornadoes– shoot some fireworks into the air when I’m really feelin’ it. I think I can handle being there for you on top of that,” he says. “I love you. And I want you to be okay, always. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

Nodding slowly, you lean forward and rest your forehead on Tyler’s chest.

Strong, warm arms anchor you to safety. You hold on to Tyler– letting the sound of his heartbeat (bum, bum, bum, bum) block out any noise from the raging storms inside your mind.

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fic #tyler owens x reader fic #tyler owens x reader imagine #tyler owens #twister imagine #twister fic #twister x reader

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soupuurr · 5 months ago

Text

𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑘 - christopher sturniolo

pairing. sub!chris x dom!reader

genre. smut

⟶ content warnings. explicit content, porn with plot, guitarist!chris, dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral, handjob, dacryphilia, overstimulation, creampie. MDNI

⟶ summary. you never expected to be drawn to your new guitar instructor, finding it hard to concentrate during lessons as your mind wanders. But what unfolds when you find yourself at his house for a lesson?

holy shit.

your breath hitched—eyes moving with reverence across the expanse of the shabby downtown studio you stumbled into. its wooden plank walls were adorned with numerous colorful guitars and basses. a breathtaking musical maze. timber stools had been meticulously placed amongst the lengthy isles, bringing you to a palatial library filled with guitar books.

your fingers ran along the straps of the acoustic guitar case resting snug against your back. as you wandered deep into the studio, your eyes bounced off of the unique furniture and decorative pieces scattered around the area.

you were quickly captivated by faint strumming echoing throughout the building, and with each venturous step inside, the sound seemed to intensify. you curiously spun around the corner of the last isle before halting—all of the air escaped your lungs as you stood, dumbfounded, in front of possibly the most ethereal boy you’ve ever seen.

he sat on a wooden stool, beat up air forces resting against the bottom. his back was hunched over a dark brown acoustic embellished with an intricate pattern along the sound hole—blue eyes trained on his fingers that expertly glided along the fretboard. wavy brunet hair peeked out from his black, lyrical lemonade beanie, and a thin silver chain rested neatly on his neck.

you must’ve startled the poor guy—he jumped after noticing your presence, nearly dropping the precious guitar in his hold.

“s-shit.” he mumbled, swiftly clearing his throat and adjusting his posture.

“i’m sorry about that. you must be my new student!” he smiled professionally before sticking his hand out,

he was your new guitar instructor?

you stretched out your own hand, his much larger one entirely engulfing yours as he shook it. your eyes lingered on his long fingers and neatly trimmed nails, his pretty hands were decorated with attractive veins and silver jewelry. you couldn’t help but imagine how they might feel inside of your pussy, your heart fluttered at the thought.

“my name is chris, nice to meet you.” he stated as he hopped off of his stool, carefully placing the guitar on a nearby stand.

chris. his name seemed so moan-able too, tumbling right off of the tongue like sweet honey.

fuck, everything about him was perfect.

“our lessons will be upstairs, in the private rooms.” your tummy flipped with excitement. you couldn’t trust yourself alone with him, fearing you might pounce on him the very moment he would shut the door behind you.

you followed him up the narrow staircase, the surrounding air tense with sexual frustration—at least for you. your gentle footsteps reverberated around the tapered space as chris led you to a roughed-up door ornamented with multiple stickers consisting of lyrical lemonade, guitars, music artists, you name it.

the interior, however, was plain and simple. holding only a tiny cabinet—filled with books you assume—and a couple of movie posters. two different guitars were leaned against the back wall, a normal acoustic, and a beautiful red electric one. chris chuckled next to you, observing your piqued interest.

“that one’s my favorite.” he nodded his head towards the cherry colored guitar.

“it’s so beautiful.” you remark. he smiled, gazing at you intently. after a sharp exhale, he reached for the acoustic guitar—preparing for your lesson.

the lesson itself was pretty uneventful to say the least, you couldn’t focus on a single thing that chris had instructed you to do, often finding yourself hypnotized by his plump lips or icy blue eyes.

truthfully, chris also found himself to be enamored by you. he found your fascination incredibly endearing. there was something about you that made him eager to learn more.

with each lesson, your bond undeniably deepened—the friendship blooming into something raw and beautiful.

and, with each lesson, chris wanted more. your cute giggles and lengthy conversations would no longer suffice. chris didn’t know what was wrong with him, he knew it was fucked up when he would catch himself slipping a hand past his waistband in the after hours, needy pants and whimpers leaving his desperate lips as his hand would wrap around his base—pretending that it was your own. he felt so dirty, so wrong.

you would be doing the same. pumping two fingers inside of your cunt whenever your mind would drift off to lewd, disgusting thoughts about your guitar instructor—his fingertips that would move so swiftly on the guitar strings would probably feel amazing rubbing against your puffy clit, plus his gorgeous face was way too perfect not to ride. just thinking about him made you giddy and immensely horny.

therefore, it was only natural that your heart would race upon receiving the text he sent you the following day.

the studio is closed today, we’ll have our lesson at my house if that’s okay with you.

*address*

a lesson at his house? you bit your nails nervously before smoothing your hand down the skimpy skirt you had planned to surprise him with. as you drove to his home, the atmosphere was suffused with unbearable silence, the prospect of being alone in his house making you nervous—you pictured him patiently waiting for you in such an intimate setting and it churned your stomach with anxiety.

you rang his doorbell and the door swung open almost immediately. chris’s eyes filled with lust the moment they landed on you, swallowing thickly as he caught sight of the skirt that wrapped so nicely around your thighs. he cursed at himself when he felt his dick grow in his pants.

“c-come in!” chris prayed that you somehow missed his obvious hard-on, stepping aside to allow you to enter while shielding himself with the door. he depravedly watched your hips sway with every step you took—knowing that he needed to control himself before he would make a mess in his pants.

“are we going to be over here?” you gestured towards the couch and small stool positioned in the center of the living room. chris nodded silently in response. what was he thinking? having the girl he fantasized about every night in his fucking living room? chris wished that he could go back in time—he wished that he never met you because fuck, you drove him insane.

and you weren’t stupid. you saw chris’s cock stir in his pants the moment you stepped foot inside, however you had to admit that you absolutely loved playing with him, doing things like stretching purposefully—exposing your navel to his hungry blue eyes.

you sat on the tiny stool, your plump thighs deliciously resting on the wood. chris wanted nothing more than to run his soft hands under your cami shirt—kiss your neck feverishly while grinding his painfully hard dick against you.

“i practiced this piece at home and i just can’t get this chord right.” you pulled your guitar from its case and hugged it tightly, wearing a pout on your face.

“will you help me chris?” you looked at him seductively from under your lashes, a tiny smirk carving its way onto your pink lips. chris gritted his teeth—you had to know what you were doing, right?

“uhm, yeah. this one’s a bar chord so you have to make sure that your pointer finger is pressing down on every string. like this.” chris adjusted his hand and you observed as his fingers curled perfectly around the guitar neck, you squeezed your thighs together in want before a brilliant, filthy idea struck you.

“hmm, i don’t think i get it” you frown, chris watched with wide eyes as you got up from your seat and alluringly strode towards him—moving his guitar out of the way so you could place your ass right on his erection. chris hissed from underneath you, still in shock as he hovered his hands over your hips. he wanted to thrust his hips against you so fucking bad, but he had to be professional. you just needed help, nothing more.

"can you show me now?" you set the guitar back on your lap and gently took hold of chris’s wrist, guiding his fingers to position them over yours on the fretboard. his fingers deftly directed yours to the correct position, while his other hand strummed the chord, its beautiful sound ringing in the air.

you softly bit your lip as you felt his breath tickling your neck, you could smell his aromatic scent—feeling him everywhere. his chest against your back, arms curved around your figure and cock pressing against your soaking wet cunt. you couldn’t help yourself as you ground your hips against his experimentally. chris gasped and placed his hands against you. fingertips curving around your hipbones so he could push your hips back onto his clothed cock. you held the guitar tightly as you rubbed your pussy against him. you felt as if you were going to explode, his teasing touch lingering on your sides.

fuck it.

you swiftly placed the guitar on the ground and flipped around—straddling him. his blue eyes greedily ran themselves down your body, landing on the spot where you intimately connected. your hands ruffled through his long messy hair before pulling at the lone strands—bringing your lips together with fervor. chris moaned, your teeth clashing and noses bumping as your heads nodded into the lust filled kiss.

chris’s hands traveled along your back, pressing gently against your skin as you wrap your arms around his neck and grind your body against him once more. your tits pressed onto him and your perky nipples grazed his chest every so slightly. you disconnected your lips with a soft smack, gazing lazily into each other’s eyes.

“tell me if it’s too much, yeah?” you huffed, placing your hands on his chest. chris hummed in response, eager for you to finally touch him. you leisurely removed yourself from his lap and perched in-between his thighs. your hands land on his belt, pulling it through the loops before yanking it off of his body. chris sat obediently, biting his lips raw—cheeks sprinkled rosy pink.

your fingers hooked themselves on his jeans, sliding them off with ease—and your mouth salivated at the sight of his pretty cock standing painfully against his abdomen, cute pink tip spurting beads of pre-cum. chris dropped his jaw as your thumb found his tip, sliding his slick along his cock. you place your lips on him and tenderly purse your lips around his slit before sliding him further down your throat. chris’s hands shoot to your hair, hips bucking helplessly while pretty little moans spew past his lips. you gently squeeze his balls against your fingertips as you watch him roll his eyes back in pleasure.

“f-fuck!” chris pants out, your acrylic nail slides its way along the base of his cock before you wrap your fingers around him, pumping him painfully slow while you hollow your cheeks. the movement of your hand gradually increases, constant squelches of chris’s slick filling the room. you pull away until your mouth was occupied with just his tip, sucking on it harshly and pushing his hips down when they would buck against your mouth, you observe his desperate gasps and pants as he got closer and closer to the edge.

it wasn’t long before lengthy, thick ropes of chris’s cum squirted down your throat. the slightly salty taste on your tongue ripping a moan from your lips, chris squirmed with overstimulation as the noise vibrated against his cock.

he looked so pretty with his face fucked out, lashes fluttering on his pink cheeks and chest heaving with every breath he took. you wanted to ruin him. please him so well that all he would be able to do is sit there and take it like a good boy.

you prod your fingers at his lips before pushing them past, watching as he sucked on them with hooded eyes—plump lips resting against your skin.

your lips curled into a smirk, abruptly pulling your fingers out and rubbing the palm of your hand against his sensitive tip. chris yelped and arched his back deliciously, body squirming against the couch as your palm pushed deeper. your fingers curled around him—digging your thumb in his slit. chris cried out, eyes pooling with tears of absolute pleasure. he squeezed them shut and sobbed, the welled up tears sliding down his cheeks as he came again. the warm spurts striking your hand and ruining his shirt.

“can you handle another one?” you stood up, straddling his hips once more. chris nodded and pushed his lips against yours, whining into every smack of your lips. you drag your hands underneath his spoilt shirt, peeling it off of his body. your other hand pushed your thong to the side before stretching your precious cunt over his cock. you both moan in unison as you begin to rock your hips—hands trailing up his chest to pinch his nipples between your fingers. chris winces and leans his head against the couch, your hips swiveling on his cock while you pinned his wrists against the cushions. you were so close, capturing his lips in a kiss when you finally felt yourself fall apart, chris’s cock twitched inside of you—filling you spurt after spurt until a ring of white cum leaked around his base.

you fall limp against him, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

"that was amazing," chris panted—kissing your cheek as you lay on top of him. you giggled in response, brushing your hand against his jaw.

“i guess we should continue our lesson right?”

a.n.

i cannot even begin to fathom the amount of love my dilf!matt fic got. you guys are actually insane. thank you SO MUCH for reading my works and supporting me, this is such a surreal moment.

also thank you for 300 followers. ALREADY.

but seriously, i’m in shock. thank you guys so much.

tags.

@luverboychris @sturniololvrrs @sturniolo0ntop @deadiish @robins-scoop @ihad-athought @matt444nixi @delooshunalhoe @sturnlover4eva @nwlluvsturnsstars17 @sturni0l0 @pepsiboyy @devscottage @leahsbussy @sturncon @asimp4chris @gdsvhtwa @stvrnmc @bimbob1tch @m0r94n @mattsturnxoxo @themattgirl17 @lauras14567 @ev3rgreenxtrees @autsturni @killuaxgabby @sturniolosarethebest @mattssluttygf @getosuckers @kenzieiskoolaid @fuckshitslover @miabumbia @t77te @futuristicladywonderland @janiellasblog @strnzzvsp @mattsdirtylittlehoe @stvrnmc @ifwfrankocean @sturniolosl0t @madssturniolo @poopydroopt @ilymusic27 @vetej05 @anisahgonzalez @satvisfavetoodles @youtubelover03 @nicksrosetoy @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @matts-whore

i’m so sorry if i couldn’t find you/put you in here, i can only tag 50 of y’all 😭

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #smut #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #sub chris sturniolo #chris smut #chris x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sub matt sturniolo #sub!matt

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 7 months ago

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Marriage of Convenience Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N’s father is gone, and he leaves it all to her. But in 1880s Oregon, she can’t own land without a husband. Under the threat of it all being taken away by a land hungry Sheriff, what’s a girl to do with no prospects? Maybe one of the cowboys on the farm can help…

Here's chapter 1 of the new cowboy!Bucky story! I hope y'all like it (see what I did there?).

Warnings: smut, slight physical violence

Next chapter

Her father died on a rainy Tuesday morning. She was suddenly alone in the world, the last of her family line. Well, not completely alone. There were 9 men on the farm that worked for her father, and now worked for her. The problem was that this was 1880 in the state of Oregon, and therefore her inheriting and owning the land and being able to pay the men was now up for question.

After they buried him under his favorite Juniper tree amongst the others that lined their property, they all gathered together for a family meeting.

“Mis amores (my loves), thank you for your help today in Papa’s burial,” Y/N began, standing at the head of the long dining table in the main house. The men were stationed in their usual spots, each of them in a state of sadness over the loss. “I’d like to read his will, if you’ll let me,” she sighed, opening the folded piece of parchment.

“Mi familia, thank you for all you have done to make this farm a livable and prosperous place on this side of the country. I’m not a man of many words,” a rumble of laughter spread across the table, “so I won’t waste everyone’s time. To my daughter, Y/N, I leave most of my money, the land and the main house to do with as she pleases,” Y/N sniffled as she tried to not let herself cry anymore. One of the men, Bucky, sitting next to her, reached his hand out and rubbed her arm in comfort. “To Bucky,” she gave him a quick smile and a glance, “I leave my most prized guns. Y/N knows where they are. Please keep the farm and my baby safe as you always have,” Bucky squeezed her arm. “To Jorge, Pedro, and Oscar, I leave my horses Beauty, Wind Dixie and Tramp to do with as they please. To Joaquin, I leave my Bible and my best hunting knife. To Diego, Santiago, and Emiliano, I leave the oat field further down south as well as the pear tree farm so that they can have land to bring their family to from Guadalajara.” The three brothers burst into tears at the generous gift, giving each other hugs then standing and giving Y/N hugs as well before sitting back down. “To Luis,” Y/N paused as she held her hand out to the man who was like a second father to her on her other side, which he quickly took. “I leave my cigars and my finest liquor, and thank him for introducing me to tequila all those years ago. I also leave a collection of my books that have been sectioned off for you in the study. I hope as Y/N teaches you how to read more that you will find great education and adventure in them. For all the men, I have created stipend accounts in each of your names with the rest of my money. You are free to empty them and leave, but I hope you will keep them and stay to help Y/N with the farm or at least until she can replace you. The account should last you for most of the rest of your lives. Thank you for your service, for your kindness, for your grace, for your compassion and your love to me and Y/N. You are greatly loved and I will miss you all dearly. Yours, Frank.”

Y/N didn’t read the next page out loud because it was just for her to read, which she had done earlier in private, and sat down as she finished reading. She felt exhausted. “I understand that in Oregon I do not actually have ownership over my father’s money, land, or the house unless I am married. Therefore, I am asking something of you all that is wildly strange, but since I have no prospects, I am at a loss. Would anyone of you, of course for the exception of those married or leaving for Mexico,” she winked at the brothers, “be willing to marry me?”

The men all stared at her with wide eyes.

“Mija, you can’t be serious?” Luis scoffed.

“I’m deadly serious, Luis,” Y/N said. “Unless I marry quickly, the local authorities will come down and take it all. I’ve already been threatened by Sheriff Pierce.”

“What? When did this happen?” Bucky piped up, his eyebrows furrowing.

“A few weeks ago, when Papa’s health declined suddenly and I went to get the doctor in town,” she sighed, remembering that horrible day. “He made it very clear where he stands with women having rights around here and how he would love to take this land for his own. He implied he would force me to marry him or lose everything,” she shuddered.

All the men suddenly were in a ruckus, yelling and swearing about the sheriff and inheritances and the law. Bucky sat quietly as he thought over the situation, then watched Y/N carefully. She let the others have their moment of upset. She sat rigid in her chair, the picture of poise and propriety, the opposite of how she normally would be. Obviously the entire predicament she found herself in was weighing heavily on her and she didn’t know how else to handle it than to put on a brave face and act like the lady her father always chastised her about being, rather than the farmer she turned out to be.

“Callate!” Luis suddenly yelled, overpowering the others. They all quickly sat and calmed down. “Y/N,” he turned to her. He reached for her hand again, which she gladly gave. “Are you sure there are no other options? Anything in the law that could help?”

“I have no options,” Y/N said drearily, her eyes blinking rapidly so as not to let anymore tears fall. “I am a woman. What I want doesn’t matter.”

Luis held her hand in both of his, his sad eyes staring at their conjoined hands and nodding his head in understanding. There were a few moments of silence and then…

“I’ll do it,” Bucky spoke. Y/N’s head whipped back to him, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping open slightly. “I’ll do it,” he leaned forward as he looked at her. “I promised your father to always keep you and this land safe, so that’s what I’ll do. We’ve all worked too hard and come too far to lose it all now,” the men all agreed. “And you deserve a better marriage than to an old, awful man like Pierce,” he added. “I can’t say I’m the perfect man by any means,” Bucky held his hand out to take her other hand, “but I will try to be the best husband, partner, and friend that I can be.”

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears again, this time she let them fall as she squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“This is strange, but I think it’s the best option we have,” Luis agreed, making the others agree as well.

Y/N grinned, freeing her hands from Luis and Bucky’s grasps to wipe her eyes. “It’s settled then. Bucky, we will go into town tomorrow and get that done and make sure everything is in your name before Pierce finds out Papa has passed,” Bucky nodded. “As for the rest of you, let’s divide up your inheritances.”

As the day wore on and each man got his gift all that was left was Bucky. He had been patrolling the perimeter as he normally did, helping with the animals when needed, and upon hearing the bell rode back in for dinner. Y/N had laid out a spread for the men, a glass of her father’s favorite whiskey at each place setting in his honor. When they had sat, said grace, and began to eat Y/N had let Bucky finish before pulling him aside.

She led him to her father’s study and closed the door behind them then walked to the wall that had his guns displayed. “Buck,” she motioned to him to join her. He walked to the wall, admiring all the different kinds of rifles and handguns he had. “He wanted you to have these,” she gestured towards the rack along the left side of the display.

“All of these?” he asked incredulously. “What am I gonna do with this many?”

Y/N laughed, “I don’t know. Collect them, sell them, I don’t really care. But he did want you to have something else of a more personal nature,” she walked over to one of the bookshelves, her fingers running along a stack until she found the title she wanted. She pulled it off the shelf and brought it back to him. Bucky eyed the book, not recognizing the title. Y/N opened it, and he saw that it was actually a box made to look like a book to keep treasures safe. Inside was a woman’s wedding ring, a man’s wedding band and a pocket watch.

“The second page of the will was mostly for me, with a few extra pieces for you,” she said quietly. “These were my mother’s and father’s rings,” she explained. “In the will he said how he always considered you to be the son he never got to have.”

Bucky felt a lump in his throat form at her words, his eyes suddenly feeling hot with unshed tears. He gulped to try and relieve the ache in his chest as he watched Y/N pull the pocket watch out.

“This is for you,” she handed it to him gingerly. “It’s made of the finest silver and gold that could be found along the East coast at the time when he purchased it. He wanted you to have it to do with as you please. He also said that the man to marry me would have his ring, and I would have my mother’s.” She pulled the man’s wedding band out and held it out to him. “I know that this is a marriage of convenience, that we may love each other in a sense, but that falling in love may take some time. I just hope that we can create a happy marriage and maybe someday a happy family together, and work together to keep this land and our familia together as well.”

Bucky smiled softly at her. You silly woman, he thought. He had been in love with her for years at this point, almost from the moment he’d first set foot on the farm when her father first hired him as security. He was a little bit older than her, so he just assumed anything like that would never happen. But being out in these Oregon forests and farmlands far away from other towns made it hard to find someone worthwhile to court or marry. Now he had a chance to love her, though he’d still have to be patient for her to catch up to him and his feelings.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, taking the ring and trying it on his left ring finger. “Ah, it fits,” he said gleefully.

“Oh good, I was worried,” Y/N giggled as she admired the ring on his hand.

“You should try yours,” he suggested, reaching for the ring in the box. She let him take it out then held out her left hand to him. He slid the ring onto her ring finger easily. “Perfect fit,” he smiled, watching her. Y/N gazed at her mother’s ring on her finger, the diamond shining in the firelight. “Beautiful,” he breathed.

Y/N smiled and then looked back at him. “Thank you, Bucky, for agreeing to this. I know I’m no great beauty but–”

“What?” he asked incredulously. Y/N looked shocked at his outburst. “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

“Oh, well…” she sputtered, unsure of what to say. “I mean, I’m not ugly, I just–”

“Y/N, you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” Bucky said so seriously it made her heart flip. “Don’t ever think of yourself as anything less. Yes I agreed to marry you because it will help keep the farm in your family, and keep us employed, but I also did it because I think you’re amazing, beautiful, kind, determined, and if I ever got the privilege to be married I would want it to be with you.” Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding at his admission. “I am honored to be your husband, do you understand me?”

Y/N nodded, her shock still evident on her face. “I understand.”

“Good,” Bucky said with finality.

They stared at each other, both of them realizing just how close they’d gotten during the conversation. Y/N cleared her throat and took a subtle step back. “Well, um…thank you, again,” she mumbled. “I’m not very good with my words, but I hope you know that if I have to get married, I’m happy that it’s with you.”

Bucky smirked at her awkwardness. “Well, I guess I’d better head out then. Gotta get some sleep, it’s my wedding day tomorrow,” he said wryly.

Y/N snorted at his tone. “Yes, I suppose I should get some rest as well. It just so happens to be my wedding day tomorrow.”

Bucky hummed, deciding to try his luck and taking a step towards her. “Does the groom-to-be get to have a goodnight kiss?”

Y/N gave him a wide-eyed look as she fought a smile on her lips. “Isn’t there some kind of bad luck for doing things with the bride-to-be the night before her wedding?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he stepped closer, making her back up against the desk.

Y/N craned her neck as she stared up at him. “I’ve never, um…kissed anyone before,” she breathed.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Bucky leaned his face closer, nuzzling his nose against her nose.

“Sweetheart?” Y/N questioned him, her hands catching herself against the desk before she lost her balance.

“Can I kiss you…sweetheart?” Bucky ghosted his nose along her cheek. “Just to hold me over til tomorrow?”

Y/N huffed a laugh against his cheek. “O-okay,” she stuttered.

Bucky smirked at her again, her nervousness making him feel a strange sense of excitement. His lips skimmed her cheek until he hovered over her mouth. Y/N’s eyes were darting from his lips to his eyes and back, her breathing becoming heavier. Bucky finally pressed his lips against hers gently. He didn’t push for anything further, keeping his hands to himself, just enjoying the moment that he finally got to do what he had always wanted to do with her. Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut when his lips met hers, her lips moving softly against his after a moment of her freezing in place. Bucky pulled away first, still hovering close to her face as her eyes slowly opened.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, giving her nose a quick peck before he backed away.

Y/N was still holding herself up against the desk, staring at him in disbelief. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

Bucky smirked at her again then nodded his head as he walked away and out of the study. He had to get the horses prepped and the wagon ready for tomorrow, then get washed up. It was his wedding day, after all.

**picture is from Pinterest, A.I. generated, so no known "artist" or "creator"**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #cowboy!bucky barnes #cowboy!bucky barnes x reader #wild west

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aswefindourwayback · 4 months ago

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I know how to ball, you know Aristotle

Author's Note: This was very much inspired by So High School by Taylor Swift. Not my best piece but it could be cute. I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback is always appreciated

WC: 1085

CW: a bit of a makeout session at the end, little bit of drinking

Summary: the BAU participate in a company baseball game but you aren’t able to play due to an injury from work so you cheer on Spence and the rest of the team.

It was like 199° outside; fahrenheit or celsius, it didn’t matter. all you knew was that it was hot as balls out and you had to sit out there to watch the rest of the BAU participate in a baseball game against another department from work.

You aren’t able to play due to an injury you sustained while in the field a week ago when the team was working on a case. It was basically due to clumsiness that you’re out of the game for a while. You managed to twist your ankle very badly. so you find yourself sitting on the sidelines, in hot ass weather, watching all your colleagues play an “exciting” game of baseball. Of course, you didn’t necessarily have to be there. You were there just to cheer on your favorite person. Although, he wasn’t the most athletic person out on the field, you hate to admit. But he was trying his best and you were proud as hell.

Spencer had been nagging you about how to play well in today's game, considering you used to play in high school and college. You tried to help him out the best you could but, at some point you two had to admit that it would take a miracle for Spencer to be a standout player out on the field. So you helped him by making sure he could make some contributions to the team with simple skills.

It was now almost the end of the game and spence was killing it. When you first sat down to watch the game, you were scanning the field for him and when you found him, you shyly hid from him, using your baseball cap as a shield to hide your blushing smile. You loved watching him from the sidelines, just cheering him on and screaming til your lungs hurt when he managed to hit the ball with the bat. You were so incredibly proud of how well he was playing. that was your man, and you couldn’t be happier. It felt like high school, being in the stands and cheering on your boyfriend who’s out on the field playing the most intense game you’ve ever seen. This love felt so lively and carefree, it was just love.

Every time you cheered for him and screamed, you could see his pink cheeks blushing harder each time, his eyes twinkling in the blink of an eye.

The game ended with the BAU team winning by a longshot, which was honestly surprising. You weren’t gonna lie, your team was pretty fit and in shape, but their baseball skills were questionable, but they pulled through and you were so proud.

After the game, the whole team went to a bar close by to celebrate and just hang out. The night was filled with laughter and teasing banter. Each one of them was absolutely battering the other for something that happened during the game. Everyone’s favorite moment though was when Spencer hit the ball quite far, and he decided that once he’d run the bases, he was gonna do a little dance and point to you to celebrate his amazing performance. The whole thing had you beaming with pride and joy.

While the team were speaking amongst themselves, you wanted a moment with just Spence.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me.” you’d said, head resting in the palm of your hand as you looked up at him.

He pursed his lips before speaking, “Well, it was your first day at the BAU. You put up this front that you were confident and that you already knew everything. But I know that wasn’t true.”

“What do you mean?”

“You kept tugging on your clothes as if they were choking you. You also kept fiddling with your bracelet. You know, you’re not very good at hiding your feelings for a profiler.” he laughed.

“Yeah, well, sorry, we can’t all be amazing profilers who can hide every little thing from everyone.” you let out a giggle.

“But I was also thinking about how pretty you are. Felt like I couldn’t breathe when I first saw you. You’re mesmerizing. It was like I was watching an angel appear before me. And I thought you were so cool. I mean, the way you carried yourself was impressive. I didn’t expect you to be so nice either. Your resting face makes you look a bit mean, but turns out you’re the nicest and most kind hearted person to exist.”

You turned to face away from him, trying to hide the fact that he was making you so flustered.

He moved to bring your eyes back to his, gently cupping the side of your face til he could see you again. Fuck. He had you wrapped around his finger and he knew it too. But you didn’t care. You would do anything for him.

The night ended with everyone heading home after a few drinks. You and Spence were walking to your car, hand in hand, just in a comfortable silence. He walked you to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for you. You thanked him and got in the car. Once you were nicely in the car, Spence closed the door and rounded the car til he reached the driver side and went in.

You two sat there, just staring at each other for ages. You couldn’t fathom that he was real, that he loved you, and that he was right in front of you. There was no doubt in your mind about him.

Spence broke eye contact to look around the parking lot to make sure the team weren’t watching before he pulled you close to him and kissed the life out of you. He’d grabbed the collar of your shirt and pulled you so close. His lips tasted of the mojito he’d drank, so minty and fresh. Lips so soft, you wondered if he’d applied chapstick before leaving the bar. You moved your hand to rest on the side of his neck, just to feel him. His hand moved up from your shirt collar to the back of your head, deepening the kiss. God, you were practically melting into him. It was getting hard to breathe but you didn’t want to stop.

No one’s ever had you like he did, and no one ever would. This was it for you. He’s the one you're gonna marry and spend the rest of forever with. He was your sun.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader

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caramelcleopatraa · 6 months ago

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MEET AND GREET

word count: 1.3k

x: my belated post for my favorite birthday boy <3 whipped this one up in a couple of hours. hopefully you enjoy! please comment..... I love comments. btw, Elijah is your son and this story takes place on may 24th :)

content: suggestive themes, fluff, meet and greet scenario, reader is a mom

Elijah could barely sit still on the way to your destination. You had never seen him so excited other than the time you took off work to take him to Crown Jewel. Or the few times you gifted him Roman Reigns T-Shirts. He wore his favorite today in particular, coated with “Greatness On A Different Level” on the front in white with “MODE” at the bottom in bright red lettering. It should be no surprise that he’s such a fan since Roman’s your favorite wrestler as well. You were dressed in black sweatpants, crisp white air forces, and a “Levels Above” black hoodie. Your favorite hoodie. You would have dressed in a regular black shirt, but Elijah begged you to wear your merch as well. So here you guys were, pulling into the vast parking lot with a good amount of cars scattered everywhere.

“Alright we’re here. Get your stuff ready to get out of the car.”

“Ok!” Elijah shifts around in his seat restlessly while you back the car into a parking spot near the entrance. Seeing him so excited made you happier than ever. Putting in extra hours at work to make this meet and greet was definitely going to be worth it.

After going through security, they directed you two to an empty room with many chairs and a background for pictures, assumingly. “Mom! It’s gonna happen! It’s gonna happen!” You couldn't help but laugh at him. He was looking at every door, waiting for Roman to walk in at any moment. You give him a couple of head pats, making sure not to mess up his new twists. “Relax Eli, it's supposed to be a surprise when he comes in, just talk to me for now.” He huffs and relaxes into the seat, wearing the most adorable pout. “I see you're excited,” You say, checking the time on your phone. 1:58. Two more minutes until he comes in. “I’m super excited! I’m gonna get him to acknowledge me!” He has a smug smirk on his face, puffing out his chest and pointing his thumb at himself. “Hah, suuure you are,” You say, looking at all of the doors around the room. Oh God. You were nervous.

“Hey! You said not to look at the doors, you’re cheating.” You sigh, feeling your heartbeat speed up. “Sorry Eli, just wanted to scope out all of the exits-” The double doors in front of you loudly open, letting in a large gust of warm air into the cold room. A man walks in the room, making Elijah jump to his feet. His “Greatness Amongst You “ hoodie and commanding aura.

Roman Reigns

Elijah jumps up and down with the widest smile on his face. Roman reaches his hand out and says, “How are you doing little man?” Eli’s hands fit in his like puzzle pieces. He was in his own world with his favorite wrestler. Talking and rambling about any and everything that came to mind, and Roman answered with jubilation. Discussing Roman’s career. Talking about shared interests. Giving Elijah warm words of advice. You knew he wasn't going to forget this.

They took a couple of pictures together, and you turned around to return to your seat with a serene smile. “Mama! Come take pictures with us,” he called out, making you turn back around. “You sure?” He nods frantically and introduces you to Roman.

“This is my mama.” Roman nods and looks at you, holding his hand out towards you. “Hello mama.” Your eyes go wide, laughing nervously at the nickname and shaking his waiting hand. “Hello Roman,” You say standing next to him while Elijah prepares his pose for the picture. A sudden weight around your waist pulls you closer to Roman, touching shoulder to shoulder. He had slid his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. The beat of your heart was so loud, and your body became hot. Even though you were both in hoodies, you were sure he could feel the heat radiating from you. His hand felt so nice on your waist. Strong, but gentle. He gave you room to adjust, but you weren't getting away from him in this picture. The photographer counts down several times, taking several pictures in several different angles and poses. When his camera went down, Roman’s arm left as well, the space around your waist replaced with emptiness.

“I like your hoodie,” Roman says, motioning to your hoodie. You notice his joke fairly quickly and laugh. “Ha ha very funny. Of course you would like your own hoodie.” Elijah taps Roman and motions him to get down to his level to whisper something to him. You stuff your hands in the hoodie pockets, your hands feeling ice cold compared to the rest of your body. Roman comes back up with an amused look on his face. His eyes scan you up and down, tilting his head and taking his time to look at every part of you. His eyes gravitate back to your face, taking in your beautiful facial features. You look down at Elijah and he has a mischievous smile on his face. Oh no. “Elijah just told me you are a fan too, huh?” You smile and look around the room to avoid eye contact, swaying from side to side. “Maybe.”

“Well we gotta take some pictures mama,” He says. “Do you have your phone on you?” You nod and pull your phone out of your side pocket and open the camera app. He takes a few selfies of himself, clicks a few buttons, and writes something on your phone. It takes him a minute, but after that, he raises your phone high, capturing you and him in frame. You keep your distance, throwing up a peace sign and your signature kissy lips. But he doesn't take the picture. He smirks at you through the camera and says, “Come closer mama, I don't bite.” You step up to stand right next to him, and he whispers ever so faintly, “There you go,” before taking several pictures.

He puts his arm down and hands you your phone back. “How long have you been a fan?” “About four years.” He smiles at you and grabs your hand. “Thank you, for your support, beautiful.” You look at your hands held by him as you get flustered. “D-don't mention it.”

The same double doors open again, and a woman comes in that you recognize. Oh, right. You had scheduled a tour for him to see backstage before showtime. “Elijah, your tour is ready,” the woman states, waving at him and shaking his hand. He looks for you and waves at you and you wave back, watching him leave the room with that permanent excited smile. “Can I take you somewhere?” You look at Roman, still holding onto your right hand. You look at him in question.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my dressing room.” ‘His dressing room???’

“You see, my birthday is tomorrow,” He says, walking you out of the cold room, guiding you with your hand in his around the crowded backstage area. “Oh, happy early birthday then.”

“Thank you sweetheart, but I'm gonna need more than that.” He lets your hand go and knocks on a brown door. No response. You looked at the door closer to see the name on the door in a white, bold font. Roman Reigns. He opens the door and faces you and says something you didn't expect.

“I want you to be my early birthday present, and I want to unwrap my present right now.”

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove @sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

#caramelcleopatraa #roman reigns #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x chubby reader #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns imagine #romanreignsimagine #wwe roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x you #roman reigns fic

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 1 year ago

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You don't need to worry about the ATSV fandom dying. As someone whose been in the Marvel fandom over ten years - I can assure you this is natural.

The ATSV Fandom Isn't Dead: A brief look into the science of fandoms.

[me standing beside Hobie beaming my thoughts of love and adoration into his head like I'm professor x]

A lot of people are afraid of the ATSV dying - and I don't blame them.

In the era of shows releasing all in one day, or movies coming to streaming almost immediately - it's not hard to say we're in an era were content is consumed at ridiculously rapid rates.

I mean, this time last year Wednesday was breaking records on Netflix. Where's the hype now?

I know you see it too, there's less posts everyday in the Hobie tag, less screenshot breakdowns, etc etc etc.

But I'm here to tell you - The ATSV fandom is doing just fine. Better than fine. All of this is meant to happen.

Let me put it into perspective.

ATSV released on June 2nd - it's November.

ATSV released a little over six months ago.

For reference: The Avengers (2012) was released on May 4th.

The Avengers DVD wasn't available for purchase until SEPTEMBER 25th - almost SIX months later.

The time that the Hobie fandom has formed and existed - is the same amount of time people had to wait just to see The Avengers again.

Large periods of time where tags only get three posts a day TOPS was nothing to fear. xReaders and fanfics held the fandom over until the next trailer, the next sneak peek or leak.

Prior to the release of streaming, only a little more than ten years ago - it was NATURAL for a fandom to wait six months before even seeing the movie for a second time.

And mind you - streaming didn't exist. If you wanted to see The Avengers again, you had to go out and BUY it. $26.99.

If you wanted to order it online - you'd have to get it shipped to you. Before Disney plus, we watched on BlueRay Discs.

And the fandom was fine and healthy.

If a fandom that doesn't even have a DVD release can keep up content for six months, I think we'll be fine.

But I'll admit - there's still the question:

If the ATSV fandom is 'doing fine' then where is everyone going? Why are the tags getting slower?

The answer is simple:

FANDOM BIOLOGY

I LOVE social sciences and the systems people create and how they work - even unintentionally.

And I have a theory - one about the natural evolution and regeneration of fandom. Hear me out -

When it comes to ATSV:

We are leaving the Analysation Phase, the phase in which content creation is centered around deciphering and breaking down the most recent installment in the fandom.

During this phase usually see art of newer characters, new ships, meta breakdowns, easter egg point-outs.

We were in that phase.

Once the Analysation Phase dies down, usually main content creators may remain. The intermediate or liminal period.

The intermediate is usually when you'll see more x-reader art pop-up, the levels of fanart evening out as artists return to their favorite characters - usually incorporating any new ones they gained from the last installment.

Shitposts usually also become popular around this time, as the shock and weight of the story wear off, and we're more able to joke about the storyline a lot more light-heartedly.

That's why the intermediate point is often see as the passion 'dying out'.

When in fact, it is the fandom getting comfortable. Resting for the next phase.

And after a few months, the next phase comes:

The Speculation Phase:

The Speculation Phase cannot come until the Analysation Phase is over.

During the Analysation Phase the fandom begins to breakdown and digest the writers intentions. They integrate the new character into the story, and the fandom.

As the audience and fandom talk amongst each other, we get more solid ideas of who the characters are, what their motivations might be, and most important of all-

What they might do.

In the Speculation Phase we turn from the last installment - and start looking towards the future.

Let's take Hobie for example.

Looking at the timeline of the Hobie fandom, we can see a progression.

Originally taken as a punk-rockstar and little more, throughout the months the fandom began posting things about punk culture, the 70's, Hobie's motivation in the comics, and how that all correlates to him.

As the fandom analyzed, the collective zeitgeist and understanding of Hobie grew into something a lot more sound, and telling.

We looked at the parellels he provides in the story, and what kind of person he is.

And because if that we have seen a marked improvement in people's contextual understanding of Hobie - as a punk and a hero.

And now that we can understand him - we can predict him.

The same goes for Miguel - over the months, a lot of us have began to question if we know him as well as we think we do , if we really know the kinda person he is -

And if we really know what he's doing to do.

That's where the Speculation Phase comes in.

The Speculation Phase in fandom is when we see some of the most passion - and instead of tapering off overtime, it builds. More and more until the next release.

The Speculation Phase is when the fandom takes the analysis' and from there, they begin to theorize.

Now that we understand, we can begin to predict.

And this is arguably one of the most interesting parts in a fandoms natural ecosystem.

During the Speculation Phase, we can see a number of diverse opinions appear.

As more and more creators begin to gather their understanding, tips from the writers, new released news, and past comic book arcs, we start to see dozens of triguing paths the writers can take us on.

As more news releases, the more hype people get. I mean - imagine how you'll feel when they release the first new poster of Hobie, or Miles? Or when we get to see Miles.G in the trailer?

And with each new poster, or trailer, we're given clues. The theorizes develop more. And the plot thickens.

It's all natural.

So I can understand the fear. Only getting one or two new posts when you visit the Hobie tag can be a bummer. But it's natural and it's GOOD.

Y'all, we need to conserve our energy. We are in the liminal phase. And they never last long.

With the news of the voice actors back in the studio, and a cliff-hanger like we have - I can assure you, it's only a matter of time before we begin to see the theories, the trailer breakdowns, the people guessing what Miguel might do, or exactly how much tech Hobie is hiding.

And when that time comes we need to be READY. I can already feel it on the horizon.

I really wonder what they'll do with all that left over Hobie concept art.

Plus with explosion of Hobie approval, I wonder if they'll add him in even more. Hobie fan-service anyone?

Hmmm...

But chill y'all, we're on the right track -

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

If you read this far, as always THANK YOU SO MUCH!! And as a token of my appreciation, I hand you this Hobie. Hold him gently please

Bye 💗

#no proofread ever ever EVER #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #Miles morales #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #peter parker

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writtenfangirl · 1 year ago

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Call Me By My Name

Singapore was arguably the most exciting race of the season. Been thinking about writing fics for Carlos Sainz too but only if there's a demand for it so drop your prompts/suggestions if you guys feel like reading about our favorite Smooth Operator!

Y/N clicked the little red dot on the screen of her phone before nestling it amongst the clutter of the TV stand, aiming it towards her and her unsuspecting boyfriend, who was too busy preparing himself a bowl of cereal in the kitchen to notice his girlfriend’s mischievous grin or the furtive glances she was casting his way.

Not for the first time in her life, Y/N was grateful for the apartment’s open floor plan.

Charles’ apartment was located in one of the highest buildings in Monaco. Many of Charles’ driver friends lived in the same apartment complex but only he lived in the penthouse. The owner of the building was a big fan of his and had given Charles the penthouse of less than half the price.

The building was close to the sea and with Charles’ living in the highest floor, his apartment had one of her favorite views in the world. They spent hours of their lives here with the windows open, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, mingling with the salty sea breeze that flew through the room. Sunsets were even more gorgeous with the view of the apartment and Y/N always made sure to leave after dark so she could watch the sun sinking beneath the waves. Not that Charles really allowed her to go when it go too dark. Most of the time, he insisted she’d stay over for the night so he knew she was safe.

Another reason why she preferred to “leave” after dark.

The apartment’s wide and expansive space was airy, light easily filtering through the window’s gauzy curtains. The open floor plan meant Y/N was able to keep her phone hidden in a little space next to the TV without Charles noticing it, all the while affording her phone a view of the kitchen unobstructed.

She sent her phone a quick grin and a thumbs up before she settled on one of the couches in the living room that gave her a perfect of view of Charles. He was shirtless, his back turned to her as he reached for a bowl in the high shelf of his cupboard.

“Baby, do you want anything?” Charles called out as he continued preparing his food.

“Do you think you can make me of a cup of coffee, Charles?” She answered, a little too innocently when he went back to the empty bowl that he placed on the kitchen isle with a box of cereal in his hands.

Almost instantly he paused, the cereal box raised and half-poured, his eyes wide in alarm instantly snapping to her. “What did you say?”

“I said, can you make me a cup of coffee, Charles?” She repeated, fighting to keep her expression blank. How she managed to not burst out laughing at the sight of pure and abject horror at her boyfriend’s face was beyond her.

His alarmed expression intensified at his name as he put down the cereal box, his snack forgotten. “Did I do something to upset you, amore? Are you mad at me?”

She feigned ignorance. “No, Charles. I just want some coffee.”

“You did it again!” He exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at her as he rounded the kitchen aisle and came out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Did what again?”

“You called me Charles!”

“That’s your name!” She exclaimed, unable to stop her laugh this time.

“What is today?” He demanded before fishing his phone out of his pocket and checking the date. “Today is not your birthday or our anniversary. What did I do?”

“Nothing!” She exclaimed.

“But you are calling me Charles, amore! That means you are mad!”

“Am I not allowed to call you Charles?” She teased.

“No.” He declared with a pout. “You can only call me Charles when you are mad at me. Any other day, you call me babe or amore or (a term of endearment in your native language).”

“Okay, Charles. Please make me a cup of coffee?”

His pout turned into a scowl before he raised a hand to his brow like a sailor searching for land. He turned left and right and in such a dramatic way, it could only be called sarcastic. “Who is this Charles, amore? Do I know him? Is he here?”

“You are Charles! Charles Marc Herve Percival Leclerc!”

“Ask Charles to make you your coffee.” He scoffed before he crossed his arms, his head cocked high up into the sky before he spun around and sauntered back to the kitchen.

Y/N couldn’t stop her laughter anymore. Not when her overdramatic boyfriend occasionally acted like a child when he was being teased by her. She shook her head, her lips pulled into a smile as she jumped on her feet and walked to the kitchen, embracing him from behind as he poured cereal into his once abandoned bowl. “I’m only kidding, babe. Can you please make me a cup of coffee?” And to seal the deal, Y/N stood on her tip toes and placed a kiss on his stubbly cheeks.

Almost immediately, Charles’s sulking face lightened into a grin as he turned around, took her face in his warm hands and placed a quick kiss on her lips. It was so fast, it was more appropriate to call it a peck but it had the same effect as his other kisses. Her toes curled, her smile turning wide and infectious.

“Okay, amore,” he said when he pulled away, his smile as incandescent as hers no doubt was. His verdant eyes were almost glittering, reminding of her of leaves against the summer sun, impossibly green yet tinged blue when held up to the sky. “I will make you your coffee, just the way you like it.”

“Thank you,” and then because she couldn’t help it, “Charles.”

His answering groan was enough to give Y/N a permanent smile for the rest of the day.

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toxic3mmy · 18 days ago

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Star Struck

prompt: you get a message from alex on tumblr

hai lovely peeps <3

this is gonna be a short little book type thing with a few more chapters to come

i hope you guys enjoy!

ps- ill try my best to update this series at least once a week!!!

you mindlessly scrolled through tumblr. yes it wasn’t 2015 anymore but you still used the app religiously. you had a good number of followers, too.

you posted about all the emo and alternative music you were into and not to mention the youtubers who you loved.

your number one favorite youtuber was alexis quackity. you related to him in many different ways. he made you laugh on days you weren’t doing too well. he meant a lot to you, even if you didn’t know him personally and it was all most likely just an internet personality.

still, you found yourself talking about his latest let’s talk streams or even his random tweets. you loved having a community of online mutuals that felt the same way about quackity.

____

halfway across the country, alexis sat cross-legged on the floor of his cluttered apartment, surrounded by a sea of empty takeout boxes and energy drink cans. his eyes were glued to the computer screen, the glow from the monitor reflecting off his square-rimmed glasses. his mouse hand hovered over the keyboard, poised to respond to the endless stream of comments that flooded his youtube channel. his thumbs danced across his phone, scrolling through the notifications that seemed to never end.

it had been a wild ride for alexis since he started streaming games and posting videos under the moniker 'Quackity'. the fame had come quickly, and with it, the adoration of millions of fans around the globe.

sometimes alex would take the time and look through his community of devoted fans. he would use throwaway accounts to simply be unknown for once and just see what there was out there.

his fans were so unbelievably talented. many of them were amazing artists making portraits of him or even writing songs for him. some were even exceptional writers and the fanfiction stories he’d come across were actually pretty good.

amidst the digital chaos, one fan seemed to stand out from the rest. y/n, with her username 'Y/NIsNotHere', had caught his attention with her thoughtful comments and unyielding support. He clicked on her tumblr profile, and there it was: a fan account dedicated solely to him.

her profile was a shrine to his digital persona, filled with meticulously edited gifs, screenshots from his streams, and heartfelt notes about how his content had changed her life. Alexis felt a strange mix of flattery and curiosity. he hovered over the 'send message' button, his heart racing with excitement.

what did she look like? what was her voice like? would she be as amazing as she seemed? with a deep breath, he typed out a simple hello.

granted, he was using a secret throwaway tumblr account so he didn’t expect for an immediate response. and yet, the response still came rather quickly.

Y/Nisnothere: hi! whats up?

emoboy666_: nothing much, just surfin da web. so you’re a fan of quackity?

Y/Nisnothere: yeah im definitely a huge fan. there’s just something about him you know? he’s different, he makes me feel okay

alexis’ cheeks heated up after reading the compliment. he smiled softly as he continued to message you

emoboy666_: i totally get you! it’s nice to be distracted from things

Y/Nisnothere: for sure! so tell me about yourself

emoboy666_: well, im in my early 20s.. im mexican, i love video games and art….. oh and you can just call me A

Y/Nisnothere: well im 21, im also mexican, im also really into all things artsy and nerdy and well, emo lol, and you can just call me y/n :3

emoboy666_: i’m glad we have some things in common! your blog is really cool btw, it’s like a hidden gem amongst the cyber world

Y/Nisnothere: aw thanks! that’s really sweet of you to say <3

emoboy666_: no prob (: so, what are you doing right now?

Y/Nisnothere: oh not much, trying to do homework but getting distracted by tumblr and twitter lol. and u?

emoboy666_: oh same here, what do you study?

Y/Nisnothere: i’m studying art

emoboy666_: that’s awesome! maybe you should show me some of your work sometime

Y/Nisnothere: yeah! id love to (:

emoboy666: me too (:

Y/Nisnothere: (: <3

the two of you continued to message each other practically all night. you were happy to have made a new online friend and alexis was happy to get to know one of his fans.

neither of you truly knew who was on the other end of the phone but you still really enjoyed talking to one another. it was refreshing for the two of you.

you fell asleep with thoughts of your new friend, A

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity fanfic #quackity x y/n #quackity smut

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sparkly-scales · 8 months ago

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My name Sounds so good rolling off your tongue -Tav (Reader) X Gale

My name sounds so good on your lips

ObsidianRose96

Summary:

Gale stumbles upon Tav during some "Alone time"

Notes:

It's not a super long story but I think it'll sate those smutty cravings you guys have. Besides, we need some more smutty Gale content. Enjoy!

Work Text:

The night is quiet as you sneak away from camp. The thought of having a private moment to yourself excites you as you go to your new favorite little spot, hidden beneath the veil of foliage that covers the woods. It’s your new sacred place. A sanctuary amongst the turmoil that you’ve recently been thrust into. A place where you come to think, to vent, to cry, and more recently, a place where you come to indulge in pleasure.

And that’s what you would be doing tonight. It had been a while since you had gotten the chance to slip your hand between your thighs and the thought excited you. So much so that your body was trembling just thinking about what was to come. You were eager, perhaps a little too eager, as you crept through the woods, far away from your companions so that they wouldn’t have to hear the lewd cries that would most certainly escape from your lips.

It isn’t long before you come across your spot. It’s absolutely beautiful tonight. Fireflies dimly light the surrounding area as they buzz around, the flowery smell of a nearby angel trumpet plant permeates the air with a most delightful scent, and the night sky, while not fully visible under the canopy of foliage, is incredible. The northern lights dance in the sky amongst the stars and planets in the most beautiful shades of greens, blues, and violets. It’s as if this night had been created solely for you.

You begin to undress yourself before laying on a soft pillow of grass. And then you begin, slipping your fingers between your thighs, softly trailing your fingers around your sensitive little clit, teasing yourself before you begin to rub the pads of your fingers in slow circles around that sensitive little bud of nerves. You had no idea how lovely you looked like this as you began to unravel yourself. The sound of your soft little moans and sharp breaths filled the air with the most beautiful ambience. You were so lost in your craft that you didn’t notice you were quietly being watched.

Gale hadn’t meant to stumble upon you in such a compromising position. He had also been taking a moment of reprieve not too far away, sitting beneath the night sky and reflecting on what Mystra had tasked him with. He was actually considering it, blowing up with the orb in his chest that he had so foolishly acquired. Of course, he didn’t want to die but gods how he wanted to relinquish the fear of harming others if the orb ever so happened to detonate against his better judgment. But seeing you there, completely bare and sprawled out in the middle of the forest as you stroked your bare sex was making him have second thoughts.

He had been pining for you, ever since the day you had pulled him out of that portal. He was a hopeless romantic, someone who often dreamt of a blossoming love, usually between he and the goddess of the weave. But when he had seen you there, standing before him as his savior, for a moment Mystra had ceased to exist. While he was a romantic, he never really believed in love at first sight. But you were different. When he had the opportunity to be in your presence and fight alongside you he felt something unlike anything he had ever felt before. Something so powerful that when he caught himself staring at you after a battle, something carnal ignited within him. A blaze that couldn't easily be doused. The way your sweat and the crimson blood of enemies gleamed off your skin and the way your hair find itself out of place made him want to take you right then and there. But he found he just couldn't muster up the confidence to tell you that, especially when Astarion and Wyll also yearned for your attention. He ultimately decided that he would admire you from afar.

He just didn't think he'd ever get the chance to admire your completely bare body as he did.

He wanted to be a gentleman so badly, to look away from what was taking place in this little clearing but this was possibly a once in a life time opportunity and gods, were you a sight to behold. The way the moonlight reflected off your skin, the way your hair spilled around you in dark waves, the way he could actually see the curves of your body now that it wasn’t covered by your armor. You looked so ethereal as if you belonged somewhere among the stars with the most divine beings. Your beauty rivaled that of Mystra. Hells, what was he thinking? Your beauty far surpassed hers.

As he watches you from a distance he can feel himself straining against his trousers, his cock begs to be released from its leather restraints. But he keeps himself composed as he enjoys the show you unknowingly put on for him. He wishes he had some sort of spell that could capture this moment so he could look back on it another time. He sits there for a few more minutes before he finally turns to leave. That is until he hears something that sounds a lot like his name spill from your lips. He isn’t sure if he’s hearing things so he stays still, trying to hear you better.

And he’s absolutely shaken when he hears his name again. And again. And again as you stroke yourself. He feels somewhat ashamed for what he's about to do but gods, he can’t take it anymore. That deep carnal urge within him awakens and he can no longer hold himself back. He unsheathes his cock from his trousers and begins to pump it into his fist, stroking his hardened length as he watches you pleasure yourself. Every breath, moan and sigh that escapes you beckons him. How badly he wanted to pop out of the bushes and show that he was there with you. How he longed to thrust himself into your sopping wet cunt, to feel the velvety walls of your cunt clench around him as he pumped himself in and out of you. But he could never bring himself to do something so rash. Much like how he admired you from a distance, this would have to do for now.

“Gale, gods gale. Yes, like that. Just like that!” You say breathlessly as you continue to stroke your swollen clit. You wish it was the actual wizard instead of your fingers. You wish you could make better use of his mouth instead of listening to him use it to ramble on about things you didn't quite understand. Gods, how you wanted to feel the warmth of his body against you, to feel his cock deep inside of you as the two of you made love beneath a starry sky. How you yearned for him during these nights that you spent alone chasing your arousal.

If only you knew how much he yearned for you as well.

He continues to stroke himself as he listens to your pining for him. His name sounds so good coming off of those plush lips of yours. Lips he wanted to kiss so badly right now. How would they feel? How would your mouth taste as it clashed with his own? The questions circled around in his mind as he continued to pump his cock into his fist, doing his best to imagine that it was you he was thrusting into.

You were close. So so close and after a few more strokes to your clit you succumb to your orgasm, teetering on the waves of pleasure until it finally overtakes you. Watching you writhe and wiggle beneath your own fingers, crying out his name as you come completely undone, is enough to send him over the edge, and he follows suit shortly after you finish. He bites down on his sleeve as hard as he can to stifle the sounds that threaten to escape him as he spills his spend into his fist. He’s a breathless mess as he watches you get up off the ground and redress yourself. You soon disappear into the woods making your way back towards the camp with your mind clear and your sexual hunger temporarily satisfied. Once he’s certain you’re far enough away, he walks out into the clearing where you had just lain. This would be the perfect spot to declare his feelings for you and perhaps take you as you so very much desired. And now that he had heard and seen how you cried out for him in your most vulnerable of moments, he had the confidence he needed to do just that. To the hells with Mystra and to the hells with blowing up just to right his wrongs. He had something to look forward to now, something to live for. And he'd be damned if he'd condemn himself to his death just to appease the Goddess of the weave. A goddess that would never value him as much as you did.

#gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #bg3 gale #tav x gale #ao3 writer #writers on tumblr #ao3 fanfic

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a-romantics-guide-to-life · 17 days ago

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⋆⟡˚ ཐི⋆♱ 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 ♱⋆ཋྀ ˚⟡⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: billy the kid x fem witch reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re the towns witch but everyone thinks your evil and vile, billy believes every word they say until he actually meets you; aka halloween is your time of year and billy is all for it

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: fluff, implied sex, hate, witch!reader, outlaw billy, halloween but its the wild west and they have witches (Ooooo)

𝐚/𝐧: heres my lil take on witch reader and outlaw billy who are both ousted from society, ofc witch r more than billy. hope you enjoy!

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟-𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Everybody in town knew never, ever, to go up to the cottage just past the first few lines of trees of the forest.

The townsfolk would spook their children into shivering at night for fear of the witch who would cast a spell and curse them all. The mothers would make rotten smelling bread and give it to their children saying it was a gift from the witch. The children would gag and cry about the awful gift that was more of an evil warning.

Of course, none of this was true.

Although it was fact, most definitely not fiction, that you were a witch who indeed did live past the first lines of trees in the forest, that was only because some of your herbs and plants could only be grown in the dark. It was most definitely true that you could hex and curse but you’d never make rotten bread.

Who even claimed that witches made rotten bread?

“Mmmm baby, whatever is in that there oven smells heavenly.” Spoke the man laying naked on your bed. You laughed, pulling on a smoky robe. You run your fingers through your hair, your eyes turning stark black, purple haze swirling in the starry night of your eyes as you use your ‘evil magic’ to untangle your hair.

Billy turned, his midnight blue eyes piercing you back with his bullet-like gaze. You winked over your shoulder as he started to stand up, grabbing a pair of shorts. He trudged over to you, whisking your hair away as he kissed up your neck where a tattoo of a daffodil lay fully bloomed.

It was one of Billy’s favorite parts about you, the flower symbolizing so much to you. He knew how hard it was being a ‘witch’, being outed as a “worshiper of the devil.” He knew that your own dear mother was burned at the stake for fighting for what’s right. Billy knew that your father had taken and ran with you as far away as you could at six years old, hiding your powers away from society to protect you.

And you had hidden, for nearly ten years, you had run from everything and everyone. You fled from forest to forest, your father growing weaker and weaker. You had finally stopped running when you found the cottage, nursing your father back to health. But, your father didn’t make it, dying the first night from delirium, forgetting who you were, where you were, everything. He eventually remembered before going mad from grief of losing your mother. You vowed then and there to curse all love, after all, who could ever learn to love a witch as your father had?

Yet you held hope, the magically tattooed daffodil an ode to that hope. Hope that one day you could walk freely amongst the humans, you could love freely without the burden of consequence, that you could one day break your curse.

Billy had waltzed into your life blazing hot and hazily drunk. He had been punished by the townsfolk, being thrown into the forest for the “witch to have at him.”

Which is when he met you. He hadn’t been afraid, raising his gun to you, his blue eyes piercing right through you. Billy had been surprised when he found out the “horrid witch” who had skin green as moss and a cackle as evil as the Devil was actually just an Angel no older than him. He had lowered his revolver, laughing out at the cruel irony of it all.

Turns out, you weren’t the wicked one at all.

“I hope you do like it, after all, I’m a rotten witch whose rolls are most certainly revolting.” You purred, spinning in his arms to face him. He smiles lazily, a huff rolling from his lips.

“Well, it's a good thing that this outlaw ain’t any better than a witch baby. ‘Sides,” he lowers his voice, biting your ear playfully before whispering in your ear, his rough and broad hands holding your arms softly, “your pussy tastes too sweet for ya t’be rotten darlin’.”

You chuckle, your legs involuntarily squeezing shut at the memories of last night's heated dinner date.

He chuckles at your reaction, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Billy walks over to where his discarded clothes lay, pulling up his trousers, barely buttoning his dark blue blouse before bringing his trousers straps up and to rest on his broad shoulders. He stands next to you, pouring himself a cup of coffee as you check on the cinnamon rolls you had baked in the oven.

You bend over, rotating the tray. Billy grins from behind you, slapping your barely covered ass. You yelp, nearly falling forward into the oven. He quickly grabs your hips, pulling you to his lower region. You stand up, turning to face him before hitting his chest.

“Billy, how dare you?!! Are you trying to get me killed??” You flail your arms dramatically.

“Guess those stories ‘bout witches getting pushed into ovens were true then, weren’t they darlin’?”

“Of course they are, who wouldn’t die if you pushed ‘em into a very hot metal oven?”

He turns the question in his head, “Ya ain’t wrong there darling.”

You huff, turning away from him mixing the frosting for the rolls. Billy walks up behind you, running his palms up and down your sides. He kisses the side of your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. He starts to hum a cowboy song, you assume, the soothing baritone of his voice relaxing your body further into submission. All for this man.

A true Angel among men, you thought.

You could, and would never, understand how the world could ever put Billy through all that it had with no remorse. And people still hated and feared him?

He was as sweet as sugar and as loyal as a priest, he was kind and loving, so loving. You never could understand just how he had so much heart to love you as much as he did.

Billy just couldn’t help it. You were amazing, incredible, truly ethereally out of this world. He thought you were a star who had fallen down to Earth, bringing light and warmth everywhere you went.

“Mmmm, baby, ‘s so good.” Billy moaned as the white cream coated his lips.

“Billy, ya got a lil something on your lips.” You smile.

He chuckles, licking his lips, savoring the creamy frosting of the fresh cinnamon rolls that you and Billy had been eating. The cool October air seeping into your room as you sat at -your small round dining table, eating the warm and sweet rolls with your special tea.

You take a bite, the fresh cinnamon-y roll, the sweet cream topping cool on your tongue. You look up, meeting Billy’s eyes. His gaze soft and warm, heating the cold plain within your chest.

“....Is there something on my face?” You ask timidly, rubbing your chin to check for any dirt or grime.

“You’re beautiful,” he softly utters, your name like a prayer on his lips.

You smile, taking another bite of your roll. He smiles as your black cat, Nyx, crawls onto your lap, purring softly. Surprisingly, Nyx had liked Billy from your first meeting till now. Nyx strutted her sassy cute butt across the table, head raised high as she lay on the table right next to where Billy’s hand lay.

He chuckles as his hand goes to stroke the princess head, Nyx letting out content purrs as Billy laughs even more, the sound resonating in your chest.

You summon your camera to capture the moment, Billy sitting with your cat, petting her softly with the softest smile ever as the sunlight streamed through the room giving Billy a halo. You smile as Billy turns to you after the flash of the camera, his nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed together as his stark blue eyes close in an attempt to relieve his eyes of the bright flash of light.

You laugh as he slowly squints his eyes open, acclimating his baby blue eyes to the brightness of the world all while Her Royal Majesty Nyx has sat there, eyes peacefully closed with Billy’s broad hands splayed in her back.

“What was that for darlin’?”

“Oh nothing, just wanted to have something to remember this moment by.”

He growls, standing up and stalking over to you. Billy attacks your neck with loving bites and kisses while lifting you away and onto your bed. “I can think of another way to help ya remember this mama.”

You laugh as he unhooks his trouser straps while tugging your robe open to the cool air while Nyx struts her stuff out of the window and into your fields as laughter and groans fill the air of your little cottage.

Billy lay on you, his head laying on your belly while your hand softly cards through his brunet curls.

“Baby?”

“Mhmmm Billy?”

He sits up, his broad frame towering over your bare form laying on the bed. “Ya wanna go ‘to town?”

You chuckle, hoisting yourself up, pressing kisses along his shoulder to his strong neck. “Darling, you really think I, of all people, could just stroll into town?”

He sighs, “ ‘s just that, it's Halloween t’night and I thought, well,” he looks away sheepishly, his eyes looking out the window where Nyx had climbed back into the cottage,” though ya’d wanna come with me since they’ll be plenty of other witches around. All the kids been dressing up as of late, thought it’d be the perfect time for ya to finally come see what the towns been like.”

You stare at him, blinking. How long has it been since you’ve seen the town? How much could that awful place have changed?

“Billy, as much as I love that idea, I don’t think it’ll be safe. Who knows what they’ll do as soon as they realize that I ain’t dressed up as a witch but actually am one?”

“Pretty mama, my baby, lovely,” he kisses your head before resting his forehead against yours, his calloused palm holding your face softly,” y’know I won’t let anything, an’ I mean anything, take ya away from me, right?”

“Yea, of course. Not that you need to protect me, I can do that myself. Been doing that myself.” Your eyes flash midnight, mesmerizing Billy.

“Baby, lemme help you, yeah?” His balmy hands reach up, rubbing your shoulders up and down as he pulls you to him. You wrap your arms around him, taking in the musk and honey of Billy, drowning everything out with his heat.

You mumble a small “okay,” satisfying Billy.

“And as much as I love ya naked darlin’, Imma need you to cover up for the rest of the townsfolk.”

You snicker, spalling his chest before standing to get ready. You grab the darkest dress you have, to enhance your witchy vibes, and grab a purse filled with coin just in case.

You and Billy walk through the trees, carefully entering the town’s outskirts where children had already begun to collect candy and participate in party games on folks’ lawns. You smile, wrapping an arm through Billy’s, holding onto him for security of mind and body.

Billy leads you to the center of the town where all the festivities lay. Smashing pumpkin contests (which Billy entered just for you winning 1st place) and apple bobbing contests where you dunked your head in water trying to get an apple twixt your teeth (you had frightened everyone there by using your magic to stay underwater for longer). There were even axe throwing and shooting contests. Needless to say, to make you happy, Billy had entered and won each contest, bringing you back a fruit or stuffed animal each time.

You continued on through the town, a show all about witches, highly incorrect you told Billy, playing at the theater on your path. You had even watched the poor little girl, an accused witch, ‘burned at the stake’ by the townspeople in the play. It was certainly informative to say the least.

At least you knew to steer clear of fires for a bit.

Billy took you too all his favorite spots, the big apple tree in the apple orchard, the bakery owned by a woman as sweet as his own late mother, and even where he ranched and the barn, which was open as a petting zoo, where he would frequently work.

You laughed as everybody treated you as a normal human, not some satanic heretic. You smiled as Billy took you around town, reveling in the fresh air of humans. You nearly cried when it all came to an end.

You and Billy ended up on the dock of the local lake where all the ‘young folk’ swam, your legs dangling together in the cool water.

“Thank you, Billy.”

“For what baby?”

You turn to him, his eyes as dark and starry as the night sky that blanketed the sky. “For everything, for making me feel alive. For making me feel seen and real. For taking me out today even though it was dangerous.” You pause, smiling up at the moon, thanking your mother and father for sending down this man, this Angel, to you. “Thank you for today Billy. I had lots of fun.”

He leans down, kissing you fervently on your velvety lips. “Course baby. I’d do anything for ya, I love you.”

You look up into his eyes, kissing him lightly. “I love you too Billy.”

#hope this was good!!!#EEEEPPP #emi's flufftober 2024 #emi’s halloween special #flufftober #halloween #spooky season #all hallows eve #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid #billy the kid 2022 #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #emi sanity

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munson-blurbs · 1 month ago

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for the meet-cute!!!

she/her - eddie - into playing guitar and painting - i’m shy at first, a hopeless romantic, and a quick wit!!

You meet Eddie at Hawkins High's art show!

CW: brief mention of anxiety, Will is part of the Hellfire Club, I wrote this while my flight was boarding so I'm sorry if it's wonky WC: 542 Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

Hawkins High’s annual art show was never the most well-attended event. It was always overshadowed by basketball playoffs, and with Jason Carver seemingly leading the team to a championship win, the art show hadn’t even made the school paper.

You stood in front of the piece you’d selected for tonight: a painting of your guitar, leaned up against your unmade bed, laundry and books strewn around. It was entitled “Peace Amongst Chaos” and was your favorite one yet, serving as a reminder of the hobby that kept you sane. Any stress temporarily melted away when you were playing, even if you were just strumming some chords without any song in mind.

Will Byers, who was another Art Club member, had set up beside you. Despite your senior and his freshman status, you’d formed a sort of camaraderie. He was similar to you in that he was more reserved upon first meeting, but was a chatterbox once you got to know him.

“My friends will be here soon,” he said excitedly. “The whole Hellfire Club, actually.”

You nodded, a flutter of relief in your chest. So far, the show’s only attendees were other members and the occasional teacher. Anyone else–including the school’s infamous Dungeons & Dragons club–would be warmly welcomed.

Sure enough, seven guys filtered into the gymnasium-turned-symposium a few minutes later, each of them taking turns to give Will a hug or a clap on the back.

“This is awesome, dude.” Nancy Wheeler’s kid brother, Mike, said with a grin. He wasn’t lying: Will’s painting of a dragon decimating a city was extraordinary, showing just a glimpse of his immense talent.

The other two freshmen echoed the statement, as did Gareth Emerson, Jeff Anderson, and Grant Smith.

It was Eddie Munson’s reaction–or lack thereof–that caught your attention. “Looks great, Little Byers,” he muttered, but his eyes were focused on you. Well, not you; your painting.

And, well, maybe a bit on you as well.

“Do you, um, play?” he asked you, shoving his ringed fingers in his jean pockets.

“Hmm?”

His cheeks reddened, and he scratched the back of his neck absently. “Guitar. Like, the one in your painting.”

“Oh!” The word came out louder than you’d intended, and you hoped no one noticed. “Y-Yeah, I do. It’s my…my peace amongst the chaos. Like the title says.”

A smile stretched across Eddie’s face. “Mine, too. It’s like a magic cure for all of my problems, y’know?”

You knew. You knew exactly how it felt to let the world slip away, to let hours pass you by as you succumbed to melodies unknown.

“I, uh, have a band. We have a band,” he quickly amended, gesturing to where Grant, Jeff, and Gareth were standing behind him. “We play every Tuesday night at The Hideout. It’s kinda a dive–”

“Kinda?!” Jeff broke in, his laughter ceasing when Eddie threw him a scowl.

Eddie continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “Anyway, we go on around ten, if you ever wanna stop by. They don’t check ID, so maybe I can buy you a drink or something?”

You nodded, perhaps too emphatically, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Maybe you could find another little slice of peace with a cute guitar player by your side.

#meet? cute.#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfic

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eseongsubs · 7 months ago

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{6:59} P.JS

I like to imagine Jay as an emotionally intimate sub. He’s known for his emotional maturity and yearn for nuanced conversation amongst his members, yet he is still so adorably subtle when it comes to taking care of others. He’s not the type to cause a scene when he lends a helping hand. Instead, he executes his favors quietly and stares off when he’s finished as if nothing happened. The possible ways this could translate into intimacy with his partner plagues me.

When he’s aroused he probably can become quite shy. The desire to not stand out too much in intimate settings can spur angst within him when he wants you to touch him, specifically in ways more naughty than just a hug or fingers threaded through his hair. He probably tends not to initiate things directly, despite the fact he’s a direct person. He spends more time nudging your cheeks softly with his nose or hovering as close as possible around you while you’re participating in mundane tasks rather than verbally begging.

One thing I remember most about subs is whether or not they close their eyes when being touched. Submissive’s who close their eyes tend to fantasize, expanding their lust by thinking dirty nothings to themselves about their partner as you’re actively touching them. Submissive’s who don’t like to beg with their eyes. They’re not always, but usually the criers, the ones who grab your wrist if it’s too much — watching you deface them is exhilarating. In my head, Jay likes to close his eyes.

His moans are strong. Not in the sense of volume but, density. He can’t help himself when you rub him through his pants softly. The intention is to tease even though he’s such a good boy, and he doesn’t mind. It feels so good and he just wants to be touched. I like to think his favorite position to be in sexually is when you grab him through his jeans and hold him, asking him about his day and telling him what a good boy he is, how you can see how hard he’s worked. Before you he was quite embarrassed about how much he likes to be the positive center of acclaim. You’ve assured him that compliments are no burden to you, though. Not when you care for him so much.

#sub!idol #dom!reader #sub!jay #sub!enhypen #jay x reader #Jay x gn reader #Jay x gender neutral reader #Jay x dom!reader #sub!idol x reader #kpop x reader #kpop x you #kpop x y/n #enhypen x reader

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inkmonster21 · 3 months ago

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Voughtland

Read as a continuation of this

Billy Butcher x fem!Reader

It’s Friday! Field trip day! Bailey is up and running about, trying to pick what outfit to wear. “I wanna wear my Starlight dress!” She smiles and points to the closet. You smile as you dress her in said dress. Taking a picture for memory.

Your daughter waits at the door tapping her foot. “Are you ready, mommy?” You finish getting ready, slipping on your shoes, and gathering your things. Bailey waits at the door, growing more impatient by the second.

You smile at your daughter's eagerness, her little feet tapping the floor in anticipation. "Almost, sweetie. Let me just grab my purse."

The bus ride to Voughtland is electric with excitement. Children chatter amongst themselves, pointing out the window as landmarks whizz by.

You sit amongst the other moms in the front, exchanging smiles and laughing at the kids' antics. As you sit amongst the other moms, you can't help but notice how young you are compared to the rest. They all seem happily married with their own families.

You glance down at Bailey, smiling as you realize she's all you need. Her innocence and love are more important than any romantic relationship ever could be. The kids gleefully rush into Voughtland, eager to explore every corner of the park. You watch as they disperse into groups, some already hopping onto rides while others line up to meet the life-size superhero characters.

You can't help but smile, seeing the excitement and joy on their faces. Bailey, having the time of her life, runs off to join the others. Before they could run off the teacher spoke. “Alright, everyone! Gather here!” The kids reluctantly pull away from their current activities, slowly making their way back to the meeting point. A few pout, but most hurry to rejoin the group, eager to know what's next.

“Okay! So I know the drive up here was long and I know we’re all pretty hungry, right?” The teacher asks.

The children nod eagerly in response, some even letting out a collective "Yes" that rises from the group.

The teacher smiles at their enthusiasm, knowing just what to say to appease hungry little stomachs. There was a surprise hidden in the words. The teacher could barely stay still. “Well, we have a surprise right through those doors.”

As the room comes into view, the kids' eyes widen with shock and excitement.

In the corner stand Homelander, The Deep, and Queen Maeve. The three supes smile as the kids enter the room.

The kids' gasps and whispers fill the air as they take in the sight, unable to believe that they're in the same room as their favorite heroes.

You watch as the kids eat and chat happily with their heroes, especially amused by Bailey's enthusiasm as she tells The Deep about dolphins.

Suddenly, a figure takes the seat next to you, his firm presence drawing your attention. Without even glancing, you know exactly who it is. You meet his dead eyes. Homelander smirks as he catches your reluctant smile, his gaze unwavering as he looks you up and down. "You looked lonely," he replies.

Fuck. I force a smile. “It’s so nice for you to take time out of your day to do this.” He leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as his gaze remains fixed on you. “I love kids.”

“I’m sure they’ll remember this for the rest of their lives.” Homelander nods, a smug smile on his lips. "Of course they will. Every child should have the chance to meet their heroes."

His eyes flick over to where Bailey is still talking with The Deep, then back to you.

"She's very sweet, your daughter," he remarks, an almost mocking tone underlying his words. He wasn’t stupid. He could fucking smell Butcher on them from the second they walked in. The little girl resembles his enemy. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

You smile at his compliment. “She’s one of a kind.” Homelander watches you with sharp eyes, his smirk growing as his suspicion deepens. He glances back towards Bailey, taking in her appearance once more before turning back to you.

"Yes, she certainly is," he agrees, his tone almost mocking.

He leans in a bit closer, the scent of cologne and arrogance surrounding you. He notices your ring finger, any sign of a wedding ring absent. "And her father?"

You look at him with wide eyes. “Oh, gosh. That’s… quite an intimate question.” You grin at him. Homelander raises an eyebrow at your reply, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies your face.

He chuckles lowly at your attempt to sidestep his question. “It’s just curiosity,” he says, the hint of arrogance in his tone. “Her dad’s… around. We’re not together.” Homelander cocks his head to the side, his expression unreadable as he continues to study you.

"Ah, I see," he responds, his tone slightly mocking. "Not together, huh? Must be hard raising a kid on your own." You wave your hand at the remark. “Nah, she makes it easy.” Homelander chuckles slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"She's a well-behaved little girl, I'll give her that," he agrees.

He glances over at Bailey, who's still animatedly chatting with The Deep. Then he looks back at you, the sharpness in his gaze returning.

"But she looks so familiar, you know? I swear I've seen her somewhere before…" You lie quickly, “We’ve been to a couple of meet and greets. That’s probably why.” Homelander nods, his smile still in place, but his gaze hardening as he considers your words.

"Ah, that could be it," he murmurs, seemingly accepting the explanation.

He's silent for a moment, still looking at you intently. Then, he grins and leans in closer, the smirk growing on his lips.

"You know, a strong, independent woman like yourself should have a man to take care of you," he says, his voice low and suggestive.

You laugh and scoot your chair away slightly. “Oh, no. I’m happily single.” Despite your attempts to distance yourself slightly, Homelander doesn’t seem dissuaded by your response. He chuckles at your laugh, his eyes still locked on yours.

"Happily single, hm?" he says, his tone dripping with arrogance.

He leans in a bit closer, his gaze roaming over your features. "A beautiful woman like you, all alone? That's a shame." He continues to push. Even inviting you to an interactive experience where you could have a tea time with Starlight herself. Before you could shut it down. Bailey accepted the invitation. Homelander grins as Bailey eagerly accepts the invitation to tea time with Starlight. He seems all too amused by the situation, his eyes flickering to you as if enjoying your discomfort.

"Looks like someone's excited," he muses, his tone slightly mocking, "How can you say no to that?" You push a smile as Bailey jumps at your side. “Can we go now?”

As Bailey tugs at you with excitement, you can't help but smile.

Homelander chuckles, watching the scene unfold. "Eager, isn't she? Starlight will be happy to see a little fan so excited for tea time," he says with a smug smile.

Homelander leads you and your daughter down a hallway. He glances back with a smug smile. “Just through here.” He opens a door and calls out. “This little one is ready for her tea time with Starlight.”

You go to follow Bailey through the door, but Homelander's firm grip on your arm stops you in your tracks. His smirk widening, he looks at you, his eyes locked on yours. "Ah, ah. Starlight will take good care of little miss Bailey.” He drapes an arm over your shoulders. “Take a walk with me," he says, his tone dripping with confidence.

As you begrudgingly walk away, your heart aching a bit at the sound of your daughter's excited chatter, Homelander guides you away from the room.

He looks at you, his smirk still present on his face. "Don't worry, your daughter's in good hands," he says, almost mockingly. "relax a little." Homelander leads you down the hallway, his arm still wrapped casually around your shoulders. He can almost feel the tension emanating off you, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

He glances at you, his cocky smirk still present. "Nervous, sweetheart?" he chuckles, the mocking tone returning to his voice. You push a smile and exhale. “Starstruck, maybe. Sorry. When I got up this morning I didn’t think I’d ever be in the presence of Homelander.” Maybe if you boast his ego enough he’d let you go?

Homelander chuckles at your attempt to butter him up, his smirk growing wider. He obviously enjoys the compliment, his ego thriving on your words.

He lets out a low, arrogant laugh, his arm still around you as he leads you further down the hallway. "You're right about that," he says, his tone dripping with cocky self-assurance.

"Not many people get this close to me. Consider yourself lucky." Homelander forcefully guides you into the dark room, the heavy door closing behind you with a loud thud.

His playful demeanor fades, replaced by a cold, hard glare. His hand still grips your shoulder as he pins you with his gaze.

"Now, we can talk without all the bullshit smiles," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Still attempting to play dumb you question, “What?” Homelander leans in closer, his hand still gripping your shoulder. “Cut. The. Bullshit. Now.” He flashed his laser eyes. You sigh and hold your hands up in a sense of innocence. You use to fucking take down supes, but it’s been so long. You’re out of practice I guess. Hard to act tough when you sing fruit salad on the daily.

Homelander grins at your gesture of innocence, his eyes flickering over you. He can see the shift in your demeanor, the facade slipping slightly. "I can smell him on you. On her. Just like a wet dog.”

He's in your space now, his eyes piercing into yours as he leans in even closer. “Listen, I… I don’t have shit to do with whatever they’re doing. He’s not around. He doesn’t care. Okay?” He smirks at you. “Guess we’ll just have to see how much, he doesn’t care.”

He slams your head into the wall knocking you out. Homelander looks down at you, unconscious on the floor. His smirk widens, a cruel and satisfied look on his face.

"You’re right," he says, voice cold and detached. "Let's see how much he doesn’t care."

You wake up, bound tightly to a chair, a gag around your mouth, effectively silencing you.

The room is dark, almost completely devoid of light. The only sound is the occasional hum of machinery and the quiet drip of water. You're in a secluded spot on Vought grounds. While you're being held in a dark room, alone and bound, Bailey is blissfully unaware, sipping tea and chattering away with Starlight just a few floors above you.

Homelander sits on the side, watching as your daughter giggles and discusses superheroes with Starlight. A smug grin is plastered on his face. He’s having you taken care of.

Annie takes a picture of herself and Bailey. She found her costume just adorable. Starlight smiles warmly at the picture she's taken with Bailey, her heart warming at the sight of the little girl dressed as her.

She grabs her phone and quickly texts the picture to Hughie, adding a message along with it.

Look at this, isn't she cute?

Hughie's scrolling through his phone when the notification from Starlight pops up. He frowns as he taps on the message to see the picture of Starlight and Bailey.

Bailey? He thinks to himself, confusion written on his face. Hughie stares at the message for a moment, not seeing you anywhere in the picture. Something feels off to him. A pang of anxiety gnaws at his stomach, his mind filled with questions.

He looks to Butcher and shows him the photo of Bailey and Annie. “They’re at Voughtland. Annie said the seven were there for a school trip.” Butcher glances at the picture on Hughie's phone, his expression immediately darkening. Recognising Bailey, he looks tense at the sight of her with Starlight.

"A school trip?" he mutters, anger starting to build as he processes the news. You didn’t mention anything to him about a field trip. Especially to Voughtland, because he would’ve said fuck no.

Butcher pulls out his phone and dials your number. When it goes straight to voicemail, his worry grows.

"She's not answering," he mutters, a hint of panic in his voice. He glances at the picture again, the absence of you gnawing at him. He turns to Hughie, his gaze dark as he gives the order. "Call Annie. Ask if she's in there with her."

Hughie listens to the cheerful sound of Annie and Bailey dancing together in the background before speaking up. "Hey, Annie," he interrupts, his voice filled with urgency. "I need to ask you something." Hughie does as told and calls her.

Bailey and Starlight are dancing with wide smiles when Hughie calls. Annie answers. “Hey, kinda busy-“

Butcher snatches the phone. “That kid. Is her mother with her?” Annie furrows her brow, glancing at the little girl dancing to the music. “No? She dropped her off.”

Butcher’s frown deepens at the revelation that you're not there. "What do you mean she dropped her off?" he asks, his tone growing sharper. “She… she dropped her off with me for the tea time. Then she… left.” Annie looks at the little girl. “Everything okay?” She asks the team. Butcher closes his eyes and huffs. “Just don’t let her out of your sight.”

Annie's voice comes through the phone, slightly surprised at the new voice. "Um, sure." She looks over at Bailey, who's still dancing happily. "Hey, Bailey, sweetie?" she says, gently interrupting the girl's dance. "Where did your mommy go?" Bailey looks up with a smile. She pointed out the door. “With Homelander.” Clearly no sense of danger for her mother.

Annie's heart skips a beat at the answer. Hughie looks at Butcher with worry. "Homelander? Why would she go with Homelander?"

He knew this would eventually happen, but if she would’ve just listened to him, he would’ve been able to protect her against this. As Butcher continues to pace, he can't help but feel a pang of guilt and anger. *If only she would have listened*, he thinks.

He clenches his fists, his mind racing with thoughts of what could be happening to you. He knows you're tough, but he also knows the kind of hell you could be thrown into with Vought. He grabs his coat and tosses it on. “Oi!” He holler to the team. “We’re going to Voughtland.”

As Butcher hollers to the team, the rest of the boys look at him, immediately understanding the urgency in his tone.

"Voughtland? What's going on?" MM asks, a look of concern on his face. Butcher huffs, “my girls are in a bit of trouble.” MM raises an eyebrow at Butcher's words, a flicker of curiosity mixed with concern in his expression. "Your girls?"

The rest of the boys look equally puzzled, curious about the nature of the "girls" in question.

Butcher huffs as he gathers his belongings. Butcher says your name, turning to look at M.M. and Frenchie. “You lot remember her, yeah?” They smile in fondness. Butcher raises his brows, “Well she had a little girl. Mine. So the question is. Are you going to help me?” Without a single word, they all gather weapons and belongings.

You sit bound, and now bruised, lip busted. “Fuck you!” You scream at your attacker. Some no name paid to pry the information you don’t know out of you.

He asks, his face a cold, apathetic mask as he watches you struggle against your binds. "Language, sweetheart," he says, his voice dripping with thinly veiled malice. "No need for that." You rest your head down, and begin to laugh.

He frowns at your unexpected laughter. He takes a few steps towards you, puzzled by your reaction. "What's so funny?" he asks, his tone losing a bit of its cool as he looks down at you.

“Just… this stupid shit. I got out, ya know? I was happy. Guess karma has a way of sneaking up.�� You look at him, “and even if you kill me and send my kid to Red River, I know for a fact Butcher will skin you from your head to your fucking toes for hurting his kid.”

The attacker's smirk falters for a moment, a flicker of genuine surprise on his face. He had assumed you would be frightened, cowering before him. But here you are, defiant and bold.

He recovers quickly, his smirk returning. "Butcher, huh? You think he'll come to your rescue?" he chuckles.

You laugh again. Finding the time to untie your hand behind your back, “Rescue me?” your eyes find a thin rod on the ground.

you look up at him and shake your head. “I don’t need anyone to fucking rescue me.” I spring from my chair and dive away from him as he lunges. I grab the small rod and turn to him, stabbing it into his eye socket and directly to his brain.

I sigh, standing up as the door is ripped open. You turn to the door and toss your fists up, ready to brawl.

Butcher stands at the door with M.M., both wielding weapons. Butcher lowers his at the sight of you. He sees the cuts and bruises covering you, signs of the struggle you've just been through.

"Shit," he mutters, his grip on your shoulders tightening as if to reassure himself that you're really there. "Are you okay?" You nod quickly without a word. You are all ushered out of the underground tunnels. Your mind is racing. “Bailey. Where is she?”

All thoughts of Homelander and revenge are pushed to the back of your mind. Your main concern is finding Bailey.

As you and Butcher rush out of the underground tunnels, you look around urgently for any sign of your daughter. "Bailey," you repeat, your voice laced with worry. "Where is she?"

Butcher holds you under his arm as he leads you out. M.M. is back up as we move towards the exit. “I got Hughie and Frenchie to take Bailey to the safe house. She’s safe. I promise.” Your heart clenches with worry, but Butcher's reassuring words offer some comfort. Knowing that Hughie and Frenchie have taken Bailey to a safe house eases some of your fear.

"Okay," you murmur, holding onto Butcher's arm tightly as the three of you move towards the exit.

As you enter the safe house, you call out for Bailey, your voice filled with urgent concern.

"Bailey! Baby, where are you?" you call out, your eyes darting about the room, searching for a glimpse of your daughter.

There's a moment of silence, and then a small voice replies from another room. "Mommy?" As soon as you hear Bailey's small voice, a wave of relief washes over you, and you feel tears prick at the back of your eyes.

Without a second thought, you rush towards the sound of her voice, finding her in another room. You grab her tightly, pulling her into a tight, comforting hug.

"Oh, baby," you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. "Are you okay?" She looks at your face and frowns. “Daddy? What happened?” She asks as she reaches for Butcher. Butcher steps closer, a mixture of concern and relief etched on his face as he looks at the little girl in your arms. He glances at your injured face before crouching down to meet Bailey's gaze.

"It's alright, love," he says softly, his voice gentle as he reaches out to touch her hair. "Your mummy just had a little accident, that's all." Bailey scrutinizes you, her young mind able to intuit that there's more to your accident than you're letting on. However, her tiredness takes over, and her eyes droop as she leans into Butcher's outstretched hand.

He notices her sleepy expression and gently ruffles her hair. "Come on, love," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "You need some rest."

You watch as Butcher lifts Bailey into his arms and carries her towards the bed, their interaction tender and caring. Your heart feels full watching the two of them, and a warm smile forms on your face.

As he tucks her into bed, you realize how much you've come to depend on him, both for yourself and for Bailey. He was your stability in this chaotic world.

Your thoughts drift back to the events that led you here, a pang of guilt mixed with gratitude settling in your chest.

You knew you’d tried your best, but you wished you could've done more to protect Bailey. The thought brings a pang of self-blame, but you also know that if Butcher had been there, things could have turned out very differently.

You find yourself in the quiet of the safe house, the lights dimmed, casting a soft, warm glow. It’s almost peaceful, the calm after the storm. The silence is broken only by the soft breathing of Bailey, already fast asleep. You settle onto the couch, the weight of the day's events catching up to you. Your eyes, heavy from exhaustion and worry, start to feel weary. You lean back, letting your body relax into the comfort of the cushions.

Even though your mind is still on high alert, the quiet of the room, combined with the fatigue settling in, makes it almost impossible to stay awake. When Butcher steps out of Bailey's room, he stops in tracks as he spots you, asleep on the couch. A soft, almost tender expression crosses his face, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

He walks closer, his footsteps silent as he approaches, careful not to wake you. He stands before you, watching your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath. As he looks down at you, asleep on the sofa, Butcher's eyes rake over your face. A strong urge to lean closer, to kiss you, washes over him. But he resists, knowing that you need sleep more than anything right now.

His fingers, almost involuntarily, reach out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the touch feather-light and tender.

You stir “Billy.” You mumble still asleep. Your sleepy murmur of his name causes Butcher's hand to still against your hair. He looks down at you, a smirk playing on his lips as he realizes you're still half-asleep.

"Hey, love," he murmurs, his voice low and gruff. "You're supposed to be asleep." You sit up, making room for him. A small smile tugging on your lips.

Butcher watches as you stir and sit up, making room for him on the couch. Your sleepy smile warms his heart, and he takes a seat next to you.

He slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. "Couldn't sleep?" he teases. You push a small smile and shake your head. “It’s been so long since I’d fought for my life.” You look at Butcher. “Kinda missed it.”

Butcher raises an eyebrow at your words, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "You missed fighting for your life?" he asks a hint of disbelief in his tone.

He tightens his grip on your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. "You've got a strange sense of nostalgia, you know that?" You scoff and bump your shoulder with his. “Look who’s talking.” Butcher grins at your scoff and shoulder bump. "Hey now," he teases, a smirk on his face. "No need to use logic against me."

He pulls you even closer, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder. "Are you alright, though?” You lean into his hold, resting your head on his chest. “Yeah, I’m alright.” You wait for a beat, “I… I shouldn’t have even taken her there. I should’ve known better.” Butcher nods. “You should’ve told me.”

You agree, and if you did tell him, then you’d be safe from all this nonsense. “Yeah. I should’ve.”

Butcher continues rubbing your shoulder, his hold on you firm yet comforting.

"What am I going to do now? We can’t go back home. He knows my name, her name, what school she goes to, her teacher.” You cover your eyes in shame. How could you have let this happen?

Butcher feels a pang of sadness as he hears the despair in your voice. He pulls you closer, wrapping his other arm around you.

"Don't beat yourself up, love," he murmurs, his voice low and gruff. "This isn't your fault."

He pauses for a moment, his mind working quickly. "But you're right, we can't go back home. Not right now, at least. We'll figure this out, though. I ain't letting that bastard get to us."

You look up at him, then around at the surroundings. You wouldn’t be truly safe until he was gone. He would never stop looking for you, just to knock Butcher a peg down. You’d be the sacrifice. Bailey….

You shake your head. “Your boy, Ryan. Grace keeps him safe doesn’t she?” Butcher nods, knowing exactly where you are going with your question. "Yeah, she does. Ryan's safe with her," he says, his grip on you tightening.

"Why do you ask, though?" he adds, a hint of foreboding creeping into his voice. “Bailey. She… if Homelander has the slightest chance to take her, he would.” You run your fingers through your hair. The hatred of supes coming fresh to mind. “He has to go.” Butcher listens intently as you speak, the mention of Bailey's name a chilling thought. The idea that Homelander might use her as a pawn against him makes his blood boil.

When you mention Homelander's need to go, Butcher's expression hardens. "You're right," he says, his voice cold and resolute. "He's got to go. And I'll make sure of that."

You shake your head, “not without some help.”

Butcher looks at you, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Are you suggesting you help me take down Homelander?" he asks, disbelief evident in his voice.

He runs his hand across his face. "Love, this ain't a game. Homelander's the most dangerous supe out there. I can't risk you getting hurt." “And I can’t just sit here when I know I could help. Especially when he knows Bailey is out there.” Butcher shakes his head doubtfully.

Butcher looks at you, his expression a mix of worry and admiration. On one hand, he doesn't want to put you in danger. But on the other, he knows how fiercely protective you are of Bailey.

He lets out a sigh. "I can't talk you out of this, can I? Once you set your mind to something, you're more stubborn than a damn ox."

You lay a hand on his cheek. “That’s why you love me.”

He leans into your touch, relishing the feeling of your hand on his cheek. He covers your hand with his larger one, holding it there for a moment.

"That's right." he says, his voice gruff but filled with affection. You lean in, relishing in the moment, and as you do, Butcher's free hand moves to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. He looks at you for a moment, a mix of desire and care in his eyes.

Then, he leans in too, connecting his lips with yours in a tender, yet passionate kiss. As the kiss deepens, Butcher's arms tighten around you, holding you close. His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you to him as he devours your mouth with a fierce hunger.

There is a sense of urgency in his actions, his touch desperate and full of unspoken desire. He needs to feel you, to know that you're really here, safe with him. A small gasp pulls your attention from the kiss. Bailey stands behind the door, spying on her parents in a loving embrace. She couldn’t help but smile as she saw her mother and father in such a way.

Butcher and you break the kiss as Bailey's gasp interrupts the moment. You both turn to see your daughter standing behind the door, her eyes wide and curious.

Butcher's hand slips from your neck, his expression somewhat sheepish as he realizes they've been caught. You smile at her, “Hey honey.” Bailey gives you a sheepish smile in return, her cheeks turning slightly pink at being caught spying. She's never seen her parents kiss like that before.

"You were kissing," she says, her voice filled with innocence. You look to Butcher with a smile. A playful manner picking up. “Kissing? Your dad? No way.” You sarcastically claim.

Butcher rolls his eyes, playing along with your little game. He feigns surprise, pretending to play the part of the innocent father.

"Yeah, no way," he says, his voice gruff but laced with humor. "Your mum was just getting something out of my teeth, love." Bailey crosses her arms and challenges you both. “No. I saw it with my own eyes! You were kissing!”

You and Butcher exchange a quick glance, trying to hold back laughter at Bailey's stubborn insistence. You decide to play along for a bit longer.

"Are you sure you saw that?" you ask, your voice filled with mock confusion. "Maybe you were dreaming or something." You nod. “Yeah, you know you sleepwalk.” Bailey stomps her foot, her small frame filled with determination as she approaches. She looks from you to Butcher, her expression defiant.

"I know what I saw," she says, her voice firm. "You were kissing!" You toss your hands up. “Fine, fine. Yes, mommy and daddy were kissing.” Bailey smiles with an excited expression. Butcher grins, unable to hold back his laughter anymore. He looks at Bailey and ruffles her hair affectionately.

"There, is that what you wanted to hear?" he asks. She nods, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She climbed on the couch, shoving herself between the two of you. “Daddy.” She says with a smile.

Butcher chuckles as Bailey climbs onto the couch and squeezes between the two of you. He wraps his arms around her, a warm smile on his face.

"Yes, love?" he replies, his voice soft and fond. Bailey looks at you, wiggling her brows. “I know you love mommy now.” Butcher rolls his eyes at Bailey's comment but grins good-naturedly.

"And how do you know that, hm?" he asks, his rough voice filled with feigned aloofness. “Because you only kiss people you love.” She grins in pure innocence. Butcher's expression softens at Bailey's innocent comment. He looks at you and then back at her, a small, fond smile on his face.

"Well, can't argue with that logic, can I?" he says, ruffling her hair affectionately. Bailey grins, but a yawn makes its way to her face. You pat her leg, “Come on, back to bed. You went mommy to come lay with you?” Bailey yawns, her energy seemingly running out. When you ask if she wants you to lay with her, she nods, her eyes drooping.

"no, it’s okay. Go lay with Daddy," she murmurs, leaning her head against your arm. You scoff at her words. A small smile played on her lips as she closed the door back to her room. You chuckle softly as Bailey closes the door behind her. It's sweet how she always wants you or Butcher with her when she goes to sleep.

You look at Butcher, a small smile on your face as you shake your head. "Little matchmaker, isn't she?" Butcher smirks at your comment, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Yeah, seems like she's got it all figured out, love."

He moves closer to you, his arm sliding around your shoulders again. "Can't say I'm mad about it, though." Leaning into his touch you feel fatigue washing over your body. “I couldn’t agree more.” Butcher feels your body relax against him as fatigue sets in. He pulls you closer, his arm encircling you protectively.

"You look exhausted," he murmurs, his voice low and soft. "You should get some sleep, too."

You give him a sly smile, standing up. “Yeah, I guess.” You make your way to the door before looking back. “You coming or what?”

Butcher raises an eyebrow, a cocky smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He stands up and saunters over to you, a swagger in his step.

"Of course I am, love," he replies, his voice dripping with confidence.

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