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lokis-army-77 · 2 years ago

Text

Private Viewing

Camboy!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 6.8k

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?

Warning: 18 +. This is pure fucking filth. Spit, masturbation (m and f), use of vibrators and fleshlight, choking, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f reviving), fingering, voyeurism? Soft!dom Eddie, tell me if I'm missing anything.

Thank you @lesservillain for giving me this wonderful idea. 💗 and @munson-blurbs for figuring out if I should do this for Steve or Eddie and for helping give me a title💗.

Masterlist

Nothing but slick sounds filled your room, the occasional deep moan calling out from your laptop speakers accompanying your own sweet cries. The guy on the screen, Ed as he called himself, or DungeonMaster as he was known on Only Fans and Twitter, was fisting his cock in his heavily ringed hand. He was putting on a show for more than ten thousand viewers but the way he stared down the camera with those dark eyes made you think he was watching you, fucking his hand to the way you were pumping your fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy.

You had stumbled upon his Twitter three months ago and he immediately captured your eye. The way his tattoos wrapped around his pale skin, how he wasn’t all lean muscle like the other OF guys, his tummy by no means a six-pack but he still looked strong enough to sweep you off your feet with ease. His moans were heavenly and so was the deep timber of his force as he praised you through the thirty-second video clip. It was all enough to convert you from your usual consumption of smutty books to the infamous Only Fans sight.

Since then, his streams and videos have become the one and only thing you get off to. And like then, tonight was no exception.

You were so close to the edge, Ed’s moans spurring you on. Your fingers move at an almost inhuman pace in and out, in and out.

“Rub that clit for me, baby. Need you to cum.” He groaned, head resting on his shoulder as he continued you pleasure himself.

“Fuck!” You gasp as you rub your clit with your free hand. Your rhythm is horribly off but it doesn’t matter, you are so close to cumming. So so so close. “Please,” you beg out into your empty room. You aren’t too sure why or what you are pleading for. More friction? More fingers? More words of encouragement from him? Maybe you’re asking to cum?

It’s like he had heard you through the screen as he moaned out, “That’s a good girl. Just like that. Doing so well for me. You gonna cum baby? Yeah? Me too. Want me to count for you?” He nods his head lazily. “I knew you would baby. Okay. Five.”

You want to cry.

“Four.”

The strings tugging inside you are becoming taut.

“Three.”

You feel like you’re going to explode. He’s counting too slowly.

“Two.”

The tears are flowing now.

“One.”

You let out a strangled scream.

“Cum baby. Do it, now.”

Your walls clench around your fingers and your legs snap shut, trapping your fingers. Every muscle in your body is shuddering as those strings snap and your release comes out in a stream, wetting your hand and the bed. Your hearing has gone, there’s a ringing in your ears but you can faintly hear Ed cumming as well.

With watery vision and slow movements, you turn to face your laptop screen just in time to see his tattoo-covered chest painted with milky white ropes of cum.

When the ringing subsides you hear him say more clearly, “Thata girl. Always make me cum so much.” He takes a towel and wipes off his chest and stomach before adjusting the camera view to the shoulders up. “Get you some rest baby, I’ll see you on Thursday.”

And then the live is over.

Slowly, sluggishly, you remove your hands from between your legs and begin the now regular clean-up routine before going to bed.

…

Three days later, Thursday rolls around, and thus begins the fall semester of your junior year of college. It’s a groggy morning, everyone is tired and very unenthusiastic about having an 8 a.m. advanced music composition class.

You had struggled to get out of bed at six this morning just to get one of the dorm showers first before they were all taken up. Luckily two of the five were open and you were able to get to class a whole twenty minutes early, even having time to grab coffee at the on-campus Starbucks on the way.

The music building was old and the tables you and your fellow students sat at were even older. It all added to the sleepy ambiance. Your eyes drooped and you yawned every time someone else did, the black coffee you had chugged not doing anything for you.

You’re only awoken when your professor, a stout old man with a very severe receding hairline, slams open the door to the classroom a little too hard and it hits the brick wall, creating a loud, startling bang.

He apologizes before making his introduction. He then gets out a clipboard with a sheet attached and hands it off to a girl in the front row, instructing everyone to fill in their name and school email for his role sheet.

It’s only once you’ve finished and passed the clipboard on, that you notice the guy two seats down from you looks vaguely familiar. You can’t quite put a finger on it and it bugs you.

His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and his clothes make him look like the alternative guy of your dreams back in high school. He’s got rings on almost every finger and an aura that just screams confidence.

It begins to become a problem, your inability to place this guy's face. You’ve only taken a handful of notes the entire first hour and thirty minutes into this two-hour class. Your eyes are constantly staring at him no matter how hard you try to make yourself pay attention.

Then, he raises his hand to answer one of your professor's questions. That’s when it clicks. Your pen falls from your grasp and your mouth forms an O.

“Oh my fucking god. No. It can’t be.” You think to yourself but just to be sure you take out your phone, turn the brightness and volume down, and hide it under the table. You open Twitter as fast as you can and you don’t even have to look for his user, he’s the first post on the screen.

Ed @ DungeonMaster86 was boldly displayed above a picture of the guy sitting next to you with his massive dick in his hand.

It’s a wonder you weren’t caught with how you practically choked on thin air and began furiously looking from your phone to the guy and then back to your phone.

Your stomach drops. You can’t keep watching his videos, can you? That wouldn’t be right. That would be weird, watching the porn your classmate makes.

When class is finally called to an end you pack up as quickly as you can and bolt out the door to your next class, hoping that by getting away from Ed, you'd be able to concentrate. Out of sight, out of mind.

That statement turns out to be false when he is in your next class and when you spot him in the student commons talking with another guy. It's like once you made the connection of who he was, he was everywhere.

…

Arriving back at your dorm, you throw your backpack on your desk, snatch your laptop out of it, and struggle to jump up onto your bed. Never had you been so thankful for the single dorm than this moment as your curser hovered over the bookmarked Only Fans page at the top of your screen. No roommate meant no one would see the moral dilemma you were currently losing with yourself.

‘You know him, it’s wrong to keep watching his videos.”

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him though. The only way he would know you are watching is if you tell him, you aren’t going to tell him, are you?’

‘No…’

‘Then it’s okay, it’ll just add an extra element of taboo to his streams. Plus, he’d miss you in the chat.’

You sigh as the devil on your shoulder wins out once again, talking you into something you know you shouldn’t be. But hey, it feels good to be bad.

Steadily, you click on his bookmarked profile and the first thing to pop up is the live stream that is currently in session. And against your better judgment, you enter the stream.

He’s only just started, people are slowly filtering in. Ed is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, and a singular, ringed hand teasing himself through his black jeans.

You breathe a sigh as he looks into the camera, eyes half-lidded, luring you in. It does the job, because in an instant your fingers are typing out a message in chat.

Princess23: hi Ed

His eyes flicker as he reads his messages, smiling as he replies to you. "Hi, Princess. How's my girl been?"

There's a bubble of excitement at the fact that he recognizes your username, even if you've been a regular in the chat for months.

Princess23: stressful… you've been distracting me.

The reply to his question is truer than he realizes.

"Aww, princess, is that so? You've been thinking of me?" He leans back on his free elbow, still groping himself with the other hand.

Princess23: yes. been thinking about your cock, how much I want it in my mouth.

It's one of the less bold comments you make but it makes you blush all the same, especially now.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Of yours?"

Princess23: yes please

"Mmm." He hums, fingers now fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans.

You set your laptop to the side and start to situate yourself. Slowly taking your clothes off one by one.

Ed replies to a few more comments before announcing that it's time to start.

He leaves the screen for just a moment before coming back with something in his hand. Smirking at the camera he shows it. A flashlight in the shape of a mouth.

"This one’s for you, Princess. Since you need my dick so bad," Ed explains. He sets it on his bed before making a show of taking his jeans and boxers off.

As you watch, your hands roam your body. Fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples before trailing down. The light touch over your ribs makes you giggle. Then you rub and scratch at the inside of your thighs.

Ed's moans are now coming through your speakers, you tilt your head to watch.

"Spit on my cock baby, get it nice and wet for me." He commands before spitting in his own hand and rubbing it on his thick length.

"Your mouth looks so pretty like this, waiting, drooling for me. Need me to fill it so bad don't you, baby?"

"Yes." You answer him breathlessly, fingers teasing around your mound.

You watch and he sits back down on his bed, thighs spread, a hand cupping his balls and the other grabbing the fleshlight. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan when he inserts his cock into the fake mouth.

"Fuck baby, your mouth feels so perfect."

You can't help but whine. Allowing your fingers to finally circle your clit.

The both of you go one like this for a bit. Him fucking the fleshlight and you massaging your clit. But then you need more, more than your hand can give you. So you reach to your bedside table, stretching at an uncomfortable angle to open the drawer and pull out the purple mini wand you kept there.

The vibrations start slow and constant as you press the toy to your clit. It pulls soft, quiet noises from you as you watch your computer screen. Your mind is blank, filled only with the pretty sounds Ed is making, the way his body looks, and the pleasure between your legs.

There are no thoughts. You follow his lead. When his hand speeds up, you kick up the vibrations, when he slows down, you turn the vibrator back to the first level.

It's a rollercoaster, almost, taking your pleasure for a ride. The stream isn't even done yet when you feel that tight pull in your abdomen. The toy works you up fast.

So you stop. Taking the toy away and changing positions. On your hands and knees, you hug a pillow to your chest and prop the toy up under you, keeping it standing as you push your clit down onto it. It's not even on and it's making your hips buck in sensitivity.

You turn it back on and immediately feel the slick seeping from your cunt and running down the toy.

"Oh fuck," you cry. Your eyes locked on the screen where Ed has also changed positions.

He's got his own toy lying on the bed and he's laying over it. The way his leg and glute muscles contract as he thrusts into the toy has you memorized.

He chants, "Baby, baby, baby." Over and over. What you would give to have him chanting your name instead. Like a prearranged falling from his lips, praising you, worshiping you.

The need for him grows and so does the tightness in your core.

Reaching your hand down you turn the speed up. Your hips buck into the toy and you bury your face in the pillow. You're close.

He’s not far behind. Peering up from your pillow you can see his thrusts are sputtering. Sporadic as he draws close to his end.

“God dammit, baby. Gonna cum in this perfect mouth of yours. Fuck. Can you swallow it like the good pet you are? Hum? The good pet I know you can be?”

“Yes.” You turn up the vibrator. “Fuck, wanna swallow all of you. Please.”

The vibrations are becoming too much but you keep the toy pressed into you, hips shaking at the feeling of being overstimulated.

Without warning, you cum with a guttural cry into your pillow. Body spasming, muscles twitching. You can still hear Ed moaning and the sloppy sounds of his cock fucking the fleshlight.

With barely any energy you reach down between your heavy body and the bed and turn your toy off. You don’t even bother with your computer, too exhausted and fucked out to exit the stream. You fall asleep to the sounds of your new classmate's self-pleasure.

…

It’s October now. The semester is halfway over and you’ve still been watching Ed, or Eddie. You learned his actual name in class when your professor called role on him by name the second week.

Today you are being assigned a partner for the final project. You have your fingers crossed that Eddie won’t be chosen as your partner but as your professor calls out pairs, it seems luck is against you.

You freeze when your name is called and directly after so is Eddie’s. You groan internally. How the hell are you supposed to do this? You already have trouble concentrating when he sits two seats away, what’s going to happen when he actually interacts with you?

There isn’t much time to think about that as he abruptly moves from his seat to the one directly next to you.

“Hi.” He says, eyes bright and expectant. “I’m Eddie.” He holds out his hand for you to shake but you just stare at him. He looks at you curiously before waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

You snap out of your stupor and accept his hand, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Sorry. I was a bit out of it.” You say, trying to play it off as you just staring off into space.

“No problem.” He smiles. “Uh, do you want to exchange numbers so we can figure out when we can work on this together?”

“Oh, yeah. Here,” You open your phone and push it to him with the messages app open. “You can text yourself.”

He does just that, even going as far as putting in his contact name as Eddie with the skull and crossbones emoji beside it.

“Great. I’ll text you when I’m free. I have work on Mondays and Thursdays, sometimes on Saturdays, but other than that I’m usually free.”

You nearly choke when you realize he’s given you his streaming schedule. “I- uh. Okay. Just text me when you can.”

"Sure thing sweetheart." He grins at you before standing, grabbing his things, and heading out of class along with the rest of the students.

You sit there for a minute, thinking. God, what are you getting yourself into?

…

You both have finally come up with meeting times that work for both of you. Tuesday and Wednesday after seven. Giving you time to get to the school library after the closing shift at your on-campus job.

It’s been two weeks of working together on this project and it’s been easier than you had originally thought to concentrate on the task at hand and keep your dirty thoughts at bay.

Right now, you are both sitting in one of the private study rooms looking at Eddie’s computer as he explains why this particular cord progression would fit with the emotions you are trying to convey in your composition.

You sigh, “Eddie, as much as I love that sound, I really don’t think it fits with the overall composition of the song. It isn’t as emotionally charged as I’d like it to be.”

“Well show me something similar to what you’re wanting.” He rakes his hand through his hair. It’s been a long night for each of you. It seems that every new section of the song you are creating for the project gives you a new challenge to work through together.

You pull out your phone and Eddie leans over to watch as you begin to type. There is a particular song you are thinking of that has the weight and emotion you are trying to convey with your own music and as you type the first letter of the song, O, the first suggestion that pops up is onlyfans/DungeonMaster.

Mortified, you slam your phone down on the table. Eddie looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“What was that?” He asks.

“What was what?” You answer.

“Why did you slam your phone down?”

“Oh, I just forgot the title of the song.”

“Right…” He scratches under his chin and then stretches back in his chair. “Why don’t we call it quits for tonight? It’s getting late and we aren’t going to agree on anything if we’re both tired.”

A yawn suddenly comes up out of nowhere and you then realize how tired you actually are. “That sounds good to me.” You agree with Eddie and begin packing up your things. You don’t want to be with him longer than you need to be right now, even if he seemingly didn’t notice his OF user pop up on your phone screen.

“Bye Eddie.” You wave to him on your way out the door.

Faintly you hear him call out to you, giving a goodbye of his own. "See ya, sweetheart."

…

After your little slip, you began avoiding Eddie. At least in person, you still tuned into his streams. You bailed on the next three meetups you had planned, helping only through voice notes and text. Eddie said he understood when you said your boss was forcing you to stay late to deep clean.

It was Thursday now and when you saw him in class he barely looked your way and you wondered if he had seen what you hoped he had not.

You tried stopping him once your lecture was over, feeling an anxiousness creeping into your mind. Your conscience had been telling you to come clean. To explain your perversion. Let him know you watched him, that you paid to enjoy seeing him fuck into a toy or his hand.

You called out his name and reached for his arm. "Eddie."

He turns to you. "Hum?"

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. "I wanted to say sorry for not being able to come help with the project."

"It's okay, you said you had work." He replies, unbothered.

"No, Eddie, I didn't get held back at work. That was a lie."

He doesn't look all too surprised.

"I've kinda been avoiding you because- well, because of what I think you might have seen on my phone that day."

Eddie stops you there. "Can this wait until later? I've really got some errands to run before work."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry to keep you Ed." You had meant it as a nickname but as it came pushing past your lips it was too late to take it back. You had never heard anyone call him that outside of his onlyfans.

You watched as his eyes widened at the name and a spark went off behind them. "I'll see you later sweetheart." The smirk he gives you isn't the usual playful one you'd seen him throw before. No, this was sinister, like he knew.

Your heart fell into your stomach as you watched him walk away, leaving you alone.

Tonight as you logged into the stream, it wasn’t to get off. It was to see if he'd show any signs of knowing you might be lurking about among the thousands of viewers.

When the video loads, Eddie is sitting in his desk chair. He's talking to the chat like he always does. There's something different in the atmosphere around him, mischief if you've placed it correctly.

He keeps replying to comments until the clock reaches 6:10. It's time for the show to begin.

"Tonight I have a very special treat for you guys." Eddie starts as he reaches over just off camera to his desk. "I've got the wand out."

The chat erupts. Eddie doesn't bring his vibrator out often, but when he does, you know it's going to be a good show for every party involved.

"I would also like to say hello to a special quest in the stream tonight." Eddie’s smirk gets bigger and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hi, sweetheart. Hope you enjoy yourself."

You feel like you've been shot. There's a ringing in your ears and your breathing has stopped.

He knows. Fuck. He definitely knows. You've never heard him say that pet name on camera. It's always babe or baby when he refers to the collective whole watching the stream. Eddie has only ever used that name with you.

Eddie starts up the vibrator, tracing it over his covered cock. He hums at the feeling, loud and long.

You clench your thighs together. You tell yourself you should stop watching but you can't bring yourself to.

'He knows." You argue with yourself.

'But he wants you to watch. Why else would he say his pet name for you? Why else would he say he hopes you enjoy yourself? He knows and he likes it.'

The devil on your shoulder makes sense again and you curse it.

So, you watch. Intently, you watch. Your eyes never leave the screen.

Eddie whimpers once he has his cock out of his pants. The tip is a deep purple/red color, showing how worked up he's gotten already.

He lets his head fall back, resting on his chair as he moves the vibrator down to his balls. He presses it into himself before dragging it up his shaft and to the head.

You feel a wetness seeping into the cotton of your panties and as his legs widen, yours press together more.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, sweetheart." Eddie moans, mouth open slack and eyes squeezed shut.

You can't believe he's saying your pet name and making those noises. You wonder what he's thinking about. How you'd look sucking on his cock? Maybe what it would be like to be pounding into you, watching your cunt suck him in and clench around him.

Eddie grits his teeth when he turns the speed up. One hand is holding the vibrator just at the frenulum while the other is cupping and squeezing his balls.

Your thoughts are running wild and your hips have started to rock in search of some kind of friction.

He moves his hand from his balls and begins to tug on his shaft. Deep guttural moans fill the air, and the sound of them turns you on even more.

It's not long before Eddie is bucking his cock into his hand. You can see his muscles straining in his legs as he does.

"Fuck fuck fuck- ah fuck sweetheart, you've got me so close. Fuck." His voice is pinched. You can see the exhaustion in the furrow of his eyebrows as he pressed the vibrator over his tip, the change in placement making his hips shudder. “God, I’m gonna cum. The thought of you is gonna make me cum, sweetheart.”

Hearing his breathy, deep, timber of a voice say that the thought of you was going to do him in had you thinking you might just cum too. No touching required, just Eddie and his beautiful noises.

In a matter of seconds, Eddie is choking on his words as his balls go taut. He lets out a drawn-out grunt and ropes of cum begin to spurt out over his chest, covering him like a painting. He doesn’t even bother to clean himself up before he looks into the camera and says good night, chuckling when he mentions your particular pet name again. Then, the screen goes dark.

…

Fridays are slow in the used bookshop you work at. Especially after 4:30. No one had been inside in maybe an hour? Your boss left early, leaving you alone to close down at 6. For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been putting misplaced books back where they belong, sweeping, and tidying up anything else you see.

Because of the usual slowness, you have your headphones on. The music isn’t loud but it does drown out the sound of the bell chiming as someone enters the building. You are unaware of the person creeping up behind you until you are suddenly turned around and corralled against the bookshelf.

You let out an alarmed screech only for your mouth to be covered by a big, warm hand. Your headphones fall to the floor beside you as they are accidentally knocked off your head. You hear his voice then, whispering in your ear.

“Hi, Sweetheart.”

“Eddie-” You heave, relieved it wasn’t someone coming to kill you in cold blood.

“Did you enjoy my show last night?” He leans back, caressing a strand of hair away from your face.

You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You deny. Even after you had told yourself you would come clean to him, granted that was before you knew he knew your secret.

“You don’t know, do you? I think you do why else would my account have popped up on your search suggestions the other day?”

Keeping your mouth shut, you refuse to answer.

Eddie takes your chin between his fingers and moves your face to the side as he leans into you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks again. “So… Which one of my subs are you? Hum?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Eddie tuts. “Don’t get all shy on me. Tell me. Now.” His tone is dominating. It’s one thing to hear it over a computer speaker, it's another when you hear it in person. His presence alone had your knees knocking.

“I-I,” You can't help but stutter. “It’s Princess23.” You shamefully tell him your user, eyes looking anywhere but his.

He sucks in a breath. “Oh, Princess. That was you?”

He forces you to look at him and you nod your head.

You hate that he’s making you look him in the eye, but you can see what’s swirling around deep within them. Desire, lust, dominance, but nothing mean. Nothing hurtful.

As you watch him, you catch the minute changes in his expression. His jaw clenches and his eyes darken, a hunger taking over as he stares you down.

“I can give you a private show if you want, baby.” He leans back in. “Right here,” He nipps at your ear lobe. “Right now.”

“Eddie, we can’t… We’re at my work.”

He looks around you, head swiveling to peer down both ends of the aisle. “It’s fine Sweetheart, no one’s here but us, right?”

“Yes, but-”

He cuts you off with a finger over your lips.

“Then let me show you why the real thing is so much better than what you’ve seen online.” He doesn’t give you time to think before his lips are on yours.

They are soft, almost pillow-like as they mold against yours. His tongue slithers its way into your mouth, tasting you, he moans when he does.

To you, he tastes like menthol cigarettes and black coffee with the faintest hint of weed. It’s intoxicating, and addicting. You’ve only had one taste and now you won't be able to function without him.

His hand cups your cheek and pulls you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair. His body keeps you pinned to the shelves and he spreads your legs by inserting one of his own between them.

With him being so much taller than you, it only takes you barely bending your knees for you to make contact with his thigh. You are thankful when he doesn’t stop you from humping his leg. The friction of you rubbing yourself against him has the seam of your pants pressing against your clit. It’s a wonderful pressure that leaves your mind blank.

When he pulls away, you follow, not wanting his mouth to leave yours. Eddie chuckles when you give a needy whine.

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He coos. "But first, since you wanna get yourself off, you've got to make yourself cum on my leg."

You pout. "But Eddie…"

"Ah ah, don't complain sweet girl, you'll only make it take longer. Now get to work."

You do as he says, rolling your hips with purpose against him. He doesn't help you at all, he only provides support and kissed along your jaw every few seconds as he watches you work.

It's harder than you thought it would be. The layers of denim dulled the sensations yet added to the tension your clit felt as the fabric rubbed against it.

"Mmm, fuck." You gasp, fingers gripping onto Eddie’s shoulders. "M'so close. Eddie, I'm so close."

He smiles at you and he gives your body gentle touches. "That's it, Princess. Let go. Being such a good girl for me."

You moan loudly at his praise.

"That right sweet girl, use me to get yourself off. That's it, keep going."

His words are spurring you on, your hips, although losing their rhythm and steadiness, keep going strong. Then, you feel it. That tautness in your tummy and the ache in your bones. You are so close.

"Please, Eddie. Ah- so close. Need more." Your words are short and your hips move faster.

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" Eddie asks, willing to give you just a little.

"Kiss me again," you beg.

He obliges. Taking your face in his hands and practically devouring you.

The canter of your hips stalls as your body shudders against him. A sticky wetness can now be felt, uncomfortably, between your legs.

"So good for me." He praises.

You can feel how hard he is, his needy cock prominently pressing into your thigh.

"Wanna feel you. Eddie please, I need to feel you." You're practically begging him to fuck you now.

"Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to stretch that pretty pussy on my dick? Make you feel so good, baby." He trailed his kiss down to your neck, stopping only to suck and nip at the sensitive skin.

You nod frantically. "Yes, yes Eddie. Need you inside me."

Hands rush to unbutton pants, fingers caress bare skin, breaths hitch. You tug at Eddie's pants impatiently as he pulls your own down. The sudden feeling of cold air hitting the pool of slick between your thighs.

You are both a whirlwind of arms and clothes and a few books falling from their shelf. Eddie’s fingers make their way to your center, exploring between your folds.

You throw your head back, cracking it on the shelf above. "Ow," You moan out in pain.

"Careful there, Sweetheart." He gives you another kiss and moves his unoccupied hand to cradle your head.

The pain is instantly forgotten when two of his thick fingers circle your clit before pushing into your entrance.

"Mmmm- god." He feels so good inside you, fingers curling into your walls. The wet slick of him moving fills the stagnant air of the bookstore.

"You're sucking me in, baby. Pussy squeezing me so tight." Eddie rests his forehead on yours, his breath mixing with your own. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Gasping in response, you buck your hips up into his hand. "More-"

It doesn't take much convincing for Eddie to pull his hand from between your legs and position his hard length at your entrance. Slowly he slips inside, meeting no resistance with how wet you are.

Eddie pushes into you, cock stretching you out farther than you think you've ever been before. His one hand rests on the back of your head while the other pushes your shaking hand out of his way as he goes to press it against your neck.

You grasp his arm, nails scratching his skin as he chokes you.

"Oh- oh, Eddie. Fuck me." You cry, cunt fluttering around him.

Your words are music to his ears. His pace begins steadily. In and out at a lazy, leisurely speed. Then he picks it up, hips bucking faster and faster.

He's giving it all to you. Everything you've dreamed of since you saw him on your Twitter all those months ago.

The head of his cock is repeatedly hitting that one spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You can’t keep yourself up. The feelings coursing through you have your knees buckling and Eddie does a good job at catching your weight.

He stops his movements to try and situate you. “Come on, baby, gotta stand up.”

You shake your head. “I can’t, s’too much.” Your heart is pounding in your chest, if you even tried to stand you would just fall again. “There's a couch.” You point to the back of the store. “It’s in the break room.”

Eddie grunts as he hoists you up in his arms and follows your directions.

The couch is old and made of leather. It is cold on your skin as Eddie lays you down and you shiver as he rips your pants and underwear from around your ankles. Never would you have ever imagined being naked from the waist down in your work break room.

In contrast to the cool leather, Eddie’s hands are searing hot. He grips the back of your knees, picking your legs up and spreading you out. You’re almost folded in half.

“Jesus fucking christ. You. Are. Beautiful.” He enunciated every word. The complement has you keening and clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at that pretty cunt. She’s gaping for me.” Eddie smiles, eyes flickering to yours before looking back to your most intimate part.

You let out a wonton gasp when he spits, a glob of it falling right atop your parted slit. Eddie takes a hand away and grabs his cock. He rubs the tip through your folds, giving your clit a heavy tap tap tap before entering you again and grabbing the back of your knee again.

Eddie wastes no time in pistoning his hips into yours. The new angle gives him free range of movement to fuck you fast and deep. The skin of his thighs makes a sharp slapping sound when he connects with your ass, it sets the rhythm for the song of your shared moans.

“Pull your shirt up.” He commands and you do as he says. Lifting your shirt up and over your breasts. Eddie lets out an irritated grunt at the sight of your bra. “That too.” He puffs out and you pull it up as far as it will allow.

Your breasts bounce as Eddie fucks you mercilessly into the couch. His eyes are shamelessly trained on them. “Fucking hell, Princess. Gimmie our hands.”

You reach out for him and he grabs your wrists, guiding you to hold your legs back like he had been doing. With the newfound freedom of his hands, he extends them out to play with your tits. He pinches and tugs at your nipples, making you moan in pleasure as he continues his assault. His thrusts become faster, harder, more desperate. You know he's close and you can't take much more either.

“Eddie… Ah- Eddie-” You babble out his name. You wiggle under his hold and the harsh prodding of his cock into your cervix. The strings of another orgasm are being pulled tight.

He growls. “I know baby, I know. Fucking cum for me. Cum on my cock.”

Tears well up in your eyes and begin to overflow. Your body writhes, back bowing, muscles straining. You’re on the precipice.

Eddie sees how close you are and moves a hand down between your legs, circling his thumb over your slick-covered clit.

“Oooh- Oh fuck!” You scream. “Shit shit shit shitshitshitshit…. Ah!”

“Louder.” He moans. “Want the whole town to hear you sweet girl.”

“Eddie! Oh, I’m there. I’m fucking there.” You cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you let go. A scream erupts from your throat. Even in your ecstasy, you can feel Eddie’s tempo shift. He’s losing speed.

“Goddammit. I cumming too.” Eddie whimpers, sinking into you fully. His cum fills you up and you can fill you as it runs down your ass as he pulls out.

Your body is twitching as he moves you to lay more fully on the couch. He doesn’t follow though. No. He sinks to his knees and before your foggy mind can even comprehend it, he attaches his mouth to your pussy.

You are pliant under his touch, unable to resist. His tongue explores you and you moan in pleasure. He’s lapping up the mixture of his cum and your slick, humming at the taste the whole time.

You choke back a sob when his tongue flicks repeatedly over your clit before he begins to suck on the already abused bud. “Eddie, please.” Reaching down you tug on his hair but he doesn’t move. “Ed-” He starts shaking his head, burying himself in your pussy.

Another orgasm is quickly approaching. Your breathing quickens and you can feel your body trembling as he works you up, sending you higher and higher until you can’t take it anymore. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and your body spasms in pleasure. He doesn't stop, continuing his ministrations until you finally come down from your high once more.

“Christ. You taste so good.” He says as he crawls up your spent body. Draping himself over you he places kiss after tender kiss all over your face. “Did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah?” You whisper.

“Mhum. So proud.” He grins, the light of the room catching in the wetness covering him from nose to chin.

Eddie cuddles into you more and your eyes close. He’s exhausted you. You both lay there in silence, content in each other's presence. Eddie eventually falls asleep, his breathing slow and steady. You don’t have the heart or the energy to wake him. You stay awake, just barely, still in awe of what happened.

It feels like hours have gone by when you finally do shake Eddie, calling out to him softly. He stirs, grumbling as he looks up at you.

“Eds, baby, I need to lock up.”

He only rests his head back down between your breasts. You shake him again.

“Eddie.” You say it a bit more sternly. “Get up and I’ll let you take me back to yours.”

That gets his attention and he’s up and dressing himself in an instant. You on the other hand are slower, feeling the prominent ache between your legs. He has to help you pull your panties and jeans back on.

He has to help you close the store as well, your legs weak and not trusted to hold up your body weight without crumbling to the ground.

Never had you thought this was how this would end. Sitting in the passenger seat of your favorite camboy's car as he drives you to his apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat as you both think of all the fun things you’ll get up to. Round two was bound to be wilder than the first.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #camboy!eddie #camboy!eddie munson #soft!dom eddie

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webbedmirror · 2 months ago

Text

High King Phantom looked at his surroundings with narrowed eyes. He rarely responded to summonings, however, this one came with offerings—sacrifices—. It perked his interest, and not necessarily in a good way. The summoning circle was sloppy, the summoners were dressed in cheap matching cloaks, they seemingly were in a random abandoned apartment, and most importantly, he was surrounded by bodies.

Seven bodies surrounded the king, seven bodies sacrificed to Danny.

"Your majesty," a person—seemingly the leader— greeted with a bowed head, "It is an honor to be in your glorious presence." Glowing green eyes stared them down, but they did not receive a response. Ever arrogant, the mortal continued talking, "We have used three sacrifices to summon you, and we hope to use the other four to strike a deal with me."

Phantom could not help but sneer. "You want to use the other four for a deal? You lot already seemed to be idiotic and somehow manage to anger me further." The summoners flinched, some preparing to flee. The king would not allow that to happen, a light tap of his foot and the floor was covered in frost, freezing the summoners in place.

"These people are dead, they are under my domain, they are my subjects. You want to give me something that is already mine?" Phantom yelled. "Even if you offered them to me when they were alive, what use would I have for them? I have trillions if not quadrillions of undead under my rule. Do you understand what that means? That is over a thousand times more people living on your planet. What do four or fuck— seven lives mean to me? Your sacrifices mean nothing to me, all you've done is needlessly kill your own kind!"

His words left the summoners speechless; it seemed they underestimated the king's power. They couldn't help but cower, a chilling, heart-pounding fear now embedded in them.

"Where is the tome you used?" Phantom was met with silence. "Do not make me repeat myself!"

"It- it's over there, your- your majesty," someone spoke up, shakily pointing a finger to a bag in the back of the room.

Phantom telekinetically brought the bag towards him, carelessly throwing things out the bag before finding the tome. He flipped through the book, quickly scanning it before freezing it solid. He raised the book high and then threw it onto the floor. Both the ice and book shattered like glass, becoming such small particles that one couldn't even hope to recover and put back together the tome.

"Now then, what should I do with you all?"

"I can take care of the rest," a new voice spoke. Phantom looked at the knight—or perhaps, hero, but the lingering of Lady Gotham on the man made Phantom prioritize the fact that he was a knight— dressed in black and blue.

"This is my issue, knight. I have the right to deal with in any way I'd like."

The knight walked closer to him, steps confident despite the icy floor. "You may be right, but you are on human land, you aren't judge, jury, or executioner."

[]

Nightwing was late-late again, too slow, too sloppy, too careless, and people died, again and it was his fault. Bludhaven was his territory, his city, and he couldn't even properly defend it.

The vigilante forced himself to not look at the dead bodies, faces crumbled in pain, tear tracks still on their faces, and instead looked the king of the dead in the eye.

"What do the rules of humans mean to me, when I am more powerful than a human could even wish to be?" A seemingly light tap of the foot resulted in the tile beneath him to crumble and the room filled with the screams of the summoners.

He'd made a blunder; sleep deprivation was not helping him speak to high-ranking alien entities. "That doesn't make us any less significant, nor does that mean you need to invalidate our culture and government. I hope if you are a just ruler, that you would respect our planet and the way it governs."

The king frowned, glowing green eyes stared at him intensely. "Get them out of my sight and we'll see how I feel."

Nightwing nodded, putting the criminals in handcuffs under the king's scrutiny. Once the king had evaporated the frost, he tied them up and put them in another room whilst talking to a police operative. While the vigilante took care of the criminals, the ghost took care of the sacrifices. A wave of magic surrounded the bodies, one by one, and their faces changed into a peaceful look. Seven orbs surrounded the king, and he looked at them with a soft sadness that surprised Nightwing.

The king's eyes focused back on Nightwing. "You will make sure those people are prosecuted properly?"

Nightwing nodded, "Of course."

"Then it's time for me to leave. Thank you for your help."

"Wait!" the hero bowed his head. "I know this is probably not the best time, but you're the king of the dead right?"

[]

The knight looked back at him, full of desperation. "My baby brother died not long ago, I just need to know. . ."

Phantom softened, "If he's a knight like you, he should be fine in my realm."

"He was." the knight clenched his fists, "I just. . . I need to know for sure that he's okay, that he's going to stay okay, and that I'm sorry."

"I can keep an eye on him, ensure his safety, and pass along information so long as you are alive in exchange of you passing along the final messages of these seven and ensuring that they receive a funeral of their liking." Unfortunately, as much as he sympathized with the knight, so long as he was within the summoning circle he could not do things for free. Whilst he could break out of it, it would be a waste of energy and he was sure the knight would agree to the terms.

"Thank you."

"We have a deal, Sir . . ?"

"Nightwing. It's a deal, King. . ."

"Phantom. We have a deal."

For the first time in a while, Nightwing smiled-soft and watery, nonetheless, a smile.

"Then, goodbye, Nightwing. And do take care of yourself, you look like shit and I don't want you to become my subject before you complete your end of the deal."

[End.]

Wahoo! It's been a while since I've written something original-ish like this so do forgive any inconsistencies or mistakes. This is a oneshot and I most likely won't add onto it so I'm just going to spill some of the background/ideas/would-be-plans for this :]

This is set while Jason is dead but before Tim meets with Dick

Speaking of Tim, I feel like Dick would be nicer and not so guilty for pushing him to become Robin

Shortly after he comes back to the realms, Danny goes to find Jason and passes on Dick's sorry as well as receives the message Jason wants to give to Dick

If this were a multichapter fic it would be slow burn friends to lovers Death Defying

I'd imagine that Danny & Jason get a brotherly bond

Clockwork essentially tosses Danny at Jason's grave when it's time for Jason to resurrect

Jason won't (initially) have his memories of being dead, but like post resurrection he doesn't have a lot of memories in the first place sooo

Whilst Jason is dead, he is located in Infinite Realm!Gotham under the care of Lady Gotham so Danny doesn't have to monitor him 24/7 and only visits him every 2 weeks or to pass along messages

Danny and Dick bond in a weird fucked up way of Dick "It took me a month to learn about Jason's death because I was off-planet and Bruce didn't tell me anything" and Danny "It took months for my sister to learn I was dead and years for my parents to learn about it and we lived under the same roof so you're off to a better start."

Oh, Nightwing isn't thinking straight because of Jason's death and his lack of coping mechanisms. I don't think I did a great job of showing that but that's why he's making a deal without hesitation

#dpxdc #dcxdp #oneshot #death defying #dc x dp crossover

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lucky-bucky-boy · 2 months ago

Text

Casual

Paring: Techbro!Peter x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count: 6564

Summary: What happens when you finally aren't with your shitty ex of two years?

moodboard here

Warnings: 18+, afab reader, limited use of Y/N, LOTS of pet names (pretty girl, baby, babe, good girl), praise kink, consent talk, oral f. receiving, techbro!(fuckboy)peter au, talk of drinking and joints

A/N: this ended up way longer than i expected. it's my first longer piece in a while, and definitely poorly proofread so sorry in advance.

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost any of writings for any reason. Comments and reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

Warm lights highlighted the cozy atmosphere of the bar, the chatter a pleasant background noise to fill any lull in the conversation - not that there was one. The once clean round table top was becoming slightly sticky, evidence of a good night in the form of mixed drinks and dripping beer mugs; broken soft pretzels, half-drank beers, and crumpled napkins nearly being forgotten as laughter filled the table in rumbling spurts.

Gwen had orchestrated it all, making sure that schedules lined up to finally get everyone together. It was desperately needed. Not only had it been over a month since the metaphorical stars aligned, but it had been just over two weeks since Jake.

Jake, or “jake-ass” as MJ has recently dubbed him, and his absolute gull had the wonderful idea of breaking up with you during the week of midterms. Almost two years being washed down the drain, your hands trying to desperately cup the dissipating water and subsequently making you barely pass your midterms. Who knew opening your boyfriend's phone to take a silly picture during a study break would reveal his betrayal? Or that he would leave relieved while you sat in your bed heartbroken?

But, who needs Jake-ass when there's vodka sodas and friends? Surely, not you.

“Come on,” Harry’s hand softly hit the table as Gwen continued recounting the next bullet on her list of everything that was wrong with Jake. The relationship was over, which meant a round of roasting the fateful ex with all cards being left on the table. His voice cut Gwen off, staring at you intently from his spot further in the booth. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on a man who- who,” his hands flailed some, his disbelief evident in the way his mouth was gaping.

“Who wouldn’t wash his hands after shitting? Didn’t believe in climate change? Had shit stains on his underwear?” MJ piped in from her spot in-between Harry and Peter.

Peter’s shock resulted in a snort of a laugh that drew your attention to the man next to you, his hand coming to cover his face as he shook his head.

“Or, that you spent over a thousand dollars in less than three months? Who’s family you didn’t meet even after two years of dating?” Gwen added, her tone a little more sharp as she reminded you of the more concerning things of the questionable relationship.

“Who couldn’t make you cum?” MJ added one last note before the table erupted in laughter, your skin burning hot at the admission that didn’t even leave your own lips that night.

The thought immediately had you grimacing the moment it conjured a hint of a memory. “I could strangle the both of you,” your words coming out as a mutter before bringing your straw to your lips and downing what was left of your drink. You had only planned to drink two vodka sodas before switching to water, but that was being thrown out the window as the heat of embarrassment still warmed your ears.

Harry must’ve sensed your discomfort because he was sliding you the rest of his beer before waving down the waitress. In a blur of a few moments, the table was cleared and fresh drinks were being sat in front of you, feeling like an oasis in a desert of your messy mind.

Peter clicked his tongue, drawing all the attention to him. His hand held the top of his beer mug, his frosted tips from his previously bleached hair falling into his face as he shook his head in disbelief. “You three really know how to pick ‘em,” he sighed out, his hand flexing down around his mug as he brought it to his lips.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of the way the light bounced off his rings, an accessory he’s been wearing more since he started working at Oscorp full time last year. The observation was cut short as MJ’s disbelief cut through, “Might I remind you, that you and Gwen date-”

“In high school.” The two in question rang out in unison.

“Besides, it would have never worked out long term.” Gwen finished, hand reaching out for her own drink. Despite the friend group being close, that subject was always a bit convoluted. There were days you wondered if what-if’s filled them, or if they were both satisfied with the friendship they had.

Peter let out an amused scoff, “We’d be so boring if it did.”

There was a moment of laughter, but the second it died down the aforementioned memory threatened to plague your thoughts, Harry’s question repeating itself in your mind. You looked over to him, taking a quick sip of your drink and relishing in the way it warmed you before speaking, “It’s not that I’m hung up on Jake. It’s just that-”

“You need to get laid.” MJ quickly quipped, “Girl, I am telling you once you get laid, you won’t even think about that prick.”

The scoff that left Gwen had you laughing, “No, she does not need to get laid,” she all but exclaimed, “She needs to process that loss of the relationship she wasted two years on.”

There was a burst of bickering between the two girls, going back and forth with their logic. Admittedly, they both had points, but they were points you weren’t currently interested in processing. The back and forth pulled the attention from you, and without much thought you found yourself opening up your phone gallery.

However, the moment your fingertip lifted from the phone after pressing on a photo you definitely should have, a ringed hand reached out, slender fingers wrapping around your phone and swiping it away. “You’re not gonna be a party pooper when it’s our first time seeing you in weeks. You’ll get your phone back when we leave.” Peter said firmly, pulling your gaze to him.

You couldn’t stop the rolling of your eyes as you held your hand out to him, expecting him to immediately cave and give you your phone back. Instead, he doubled-down in his efforts, slipping the device into his pocket. You really should have known better. Peter was never one to bend, not easily at least. If anything, you’ve learned he was as stubborn as a mule and the biggest tease you’ve ever met.

All he did was grab his mug and take a long swig, gaze holding yours over the rim as he did. For the first time in months, there was an echo of heat that ran through you, subtle enough that it definitely had to be from the vodka, right?

There was a sudden vibration, pulling your attention from Peter over to Gwen who let out a sigh before putting her phone away. Her demeanor shifted, slumping back against the booth seat. “This is the last round. I need to be in the office by 7 am tomorrow now.”

The door of the bar closed behind you, creating a barrier to the warmth inside as the wind of the city hit you. The evening had been nice, but the fully dark sky paved the way for the cooler temperatures. As much as you had been dreading coming out originally, it felt like your legs wanted to take you right back into the bar.

The alcohol made it easier to feel normal. Weeks of constant limbo, constant questioning years of your life, constant critiquing every square inch of your appearance, put on pause. It was a relief, one that felt miles away with each step you were taking since leaving the table. There was an itch to tell them you were going to stay later, but you knew that wouldn’t fly.

Gwen was always especially pressed about the rule that if you all went together, you left together. Over a decade of being Peter’s friend had made her even more gravely aware of what could happen, and even though her overbearing concern could be frustrating, all she wanted was for everyone to be safe.

It wasn’t until Peter was invading your space, his lanky frame leaning closer as he threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to his side, that lopsided grin you had grown to know him for pulling at his lips had you realizing they had all been talking about something while you mind wandered. “You all know who I am,” the statement earned groans from the other girls, Harry snickering at them. There was a moment of confusion in you before he continued, “I’ll get Ms. Heartbreak home safely.”

The nickname immediately made your eyes roll, nudging his side just slightly and pulling a chuckle from him. Your eyes glancing back at Gwen and M.J. “I can get home fine,” You offered, smiling softly at them. Gwen’s concern was written on her face. “And I’ll text you when I do, assuming someone doesn’t kill me with his antics.” You narrowed your eyes up at Peter, his hands coming up in faux defence as he backed away.

The dramatics didn’t stop there as Peter moved his hand to his heart, falling against a lamppost and slowly collapsing to the ground, all while wearing a pained look on his face. “Oh, how you wound me, fair maiden.”

Harry snorted out a laugh, M.J. following suit with her own giggles, and Gwen sighing. This was how it always was with them, ever since you joined their unorthodox friend group a few years ago. ”Fine, fine! Text me when you get home, and MJ and I will see you Sunday for brunch.” Gwen conceded, a small smiling gracing her lips, “Keep her safe, Parker. Please.”

“I will, I will.” He jumped up from the ground, dusting himself off. “You say that every time.” He commented, “As if we don’t live in the same direction and I don’t walk her home every time we come to this bar.”

MJ nodded, her face contorting as she held back laughter at her friend’s annoyance, “He’s got a point, Gwen. Just like Harry always gives us a ride to our apartment.”

“Yeah, I would just feel better if (Y/N) would finally cave and get an apartment with us.” Gwen muttered, ensuing another round of lighthearted bickering between them.

There was a comment that quickly died on your tongue as Peter’s arm wrapped around your shoulders again, turning you around towards the direction of your apartment. “Alright, love you dorks, have a goodnight.” He called back as your steps fell into a comfortable stride and his arm fell from his place on you.

The walk was comfortable, a quiet routine set into place after countless times of taking the same route home. Cars bustling by, muffled conversations, the occasional street cat and comically chasing a cat down an alleyway. A train or cab would definitely be quick this time of night, but there was something nice about walking off the alcohol and bar food that felt refreshing.

Cool air prickled your skin, the cars throwing additional gusts of wind at you, only briefly blocked by Peter’s frame. It had been so warm and nice out, but the current temperature had you regretting your disregard for a jacket, missing the warmth of the bar from just 20 minutes ago. Another 10 minute walk, your apartment building finally coming into view a few blocks down as you two crossed the street and rounded a corner.

Peter moved from your right side, falling a pace behind you before reappearing on his left. The sight of his bare arms in your peripheral making you do a double take before his was maneuvering his hoodie onto your shoulders. The suddenness had you pausing in your steps, the scent of his cinnamon and woodsy cologne enveloping your senses as he lips pulled, adam’s apple bobbing in amusement at your slightly bewilderment.

“Put the damn thing on properly,” he laughed out, “Don’t say you don’t need it. You’ve been rubbing your arms that past two blocks.”

Had you really been rubbing your arms that much? You slipped your arms into their designated space, adjusting the fabric some. The gray material fell against you, immediately enveloping you in warmth and sending a wave of heat that amplified the echo from earlier through you.

Once he was seemingly satisfied with your obligingness, he turned to continue his stride, nodding for you to continue on with him. “So, what did John do to make you finally leave him?” Peter’s hummed out.

The sigh you left out was quickly met with a soft chuckle. He hadn’t arrived yet when you had been recounting to Harry the scene that played out, and by the time he did get there the conversation was already in full swing that the only explanation he was given was “They finally broke up.”

“Jake cheated,” the shrug you gave did nothing to ease the anxiety that was swimming in your chest, filling your lungs with smoke and your throat with discomfort. “Found out while studying for my midterms. And, he left me, by the way.”

Peter tripped over your admission, glancing at you with furrowed brows before recovering, “So, let me get this straight, you found out but he left you?” The click of your tongue was enough of a confirmation for Peter to let out his own sigh, “Babe,” the pet name, albeit common in his vocabulary, sent a rush of heat through you, singeing the anxiety in is path to sitting lowly in you, “He was a grade a piece of shit. Couldn’t even be honest with what he wanted and you wanted to stay?”

“Coming from the resident fuck boy of the friend group?” The words came out more acrimoniously than you anticipated, but they did nothing to Peter but make him shrug and laugh. It was oddly comforting to see how much he’d grown, how words seemingly rolled off his back now when they used to all pierce him.

“At least the people I see know what I want. I don’t expect to have my cake and eat it too,” he offered, never faltering from it’s normal lackadaisical tone. It never came off as disinterest or indifferent with Peter, but in the way that you could tell he was confident with himself. Other people’s opinions didn’t matter.

“Is that how you did it?” Your question was seeming incomplete, but the indication was still there. It always was whenever someone brought up exes.

“Did what?” There was a dryness to his tone that was serving as a warning. Clarify, or turn away from the can of worms that everyone looked at but never opened.

But, if you had to spend the entire night recounting your past relationships, someone else should too. “Got over Gwen.” You clarified, hands tucking into the front pocket of the hoodie.

Peter came to a stop, turning to look at you fully. The streetlight hand overhead, bright and yellow, washing him in an angelic like brightness while the bulb on your doorstep flickered softly. “MJ is right. You need to get laid.”

The deflection was answer enough. Yes, and no, and no he wouldn’t be talking about it. His gaze never left yours, waiting and anticipating your next move.

His breath of relief wasn’t lost on you as you turned to your lobby door, pulling your keys out to let the two of you in. Gwen wouldn’t be satisfied unless Peter watched you go into your apartment, and Peter wouldn’t be satisfied until he heard the lock of your deadbolt.

The ascent up the stairs was quiet, the sense of something looming heavy on you. Peter’s steps were in line behind you as you climbed. First floor, second, then third, your apartment door coming into view as you reached the landing. The gimmicky Spiderman doormat he’d gifted during a white elephant exchange was like a beam against the dingy floor, the ‘go away’ sticker above your peephole making you smile softly with the relief of home being so close.

Just as you unlocked your door and started turning the handle, Peter’s voice broke the silence, “Shit wait-” as you were turning to look at him, he pulled your phone out of his pocket and held it out to you. “Here.”

Something about the exchange cracked a piece of you. Your phone acting as a token to remembering the way he looked at you over his mug. Reaching out to grab it, your fingertips brushing along his and the coolness of his rings, inhibitions died. “You said I need to get laid, right?”

Your movements were quick, shoving your phone into your jean pocket and preparing to flee at the first sign of rejection, eyes looking anywhere but Peter’s face. The package in front of your neighbors door, Peter’s untied shoe, the suggestion of a bulge twitching underneath his zipper.

Was it desire or anxiety that was making your mouth water, skin warming with anticipation, breath short and halted as you waited for his response. “Look me in the eye and ask that again.”

Peter’s tone was firm in a way you had never heard before. Commanding but warm and inviting, the type of tone to have your eyes shooting up to meet his to make sure you heard it correctly. He was otherwise emotionless, his own gaze studying you as if he was assessing the pros and cons of the situation being presented. “You said I need to get laid.”

He nodded curtly, foot bouncing incrementally. It was subtle, other than the sound of his jeans moving against the fabric of his shoe. “That, I did.”

“Do you want to do something about that?” You weren’t even sure your voice made it above a whisper, hands becoming clammy as they flexed at your sides.

“Do you want me to?” He countered.

It felt like a chess match, each of you moving a pawn on the board as you figured out what was worth sacrificing. One of you should forfeit, call bluff and turn away, but neither of you made the indication that backing down was an option.

“I asked you fir-” You were cut off by Peter lips, hands moving to cup your jaw as all space between you two disappeared.

Feverish. That’s the only word that could come close to describing the way he was moving. Slightly chapped lips from the cold, the taste of rich beer and the minty gum he always chewed, one hand moving to hold the back of your neck to keep you against him while the other was reaching for the door handle.

He moved you two inside like he’d done it a million times, or at least thought of it million times. Your back was pressed against the wall, his foot kicking your door closing and reaching for the deadbolt. His hand waved a few times before he pulled away with a displeased grunt, reaching over to lock the metal into place with it’s infamous screech.

Peter looked back at you, mouth slightly parted and tongue swiping along his lip as if he was trying to taste your own against his still. “Tell me this is what you want.” His voice was breathless, quiet, but something lay beneath it. It was a type of yearning you hadn’t felt in months, maybe even years if you were being honest.

“Well, obviously.” You offered, baffled that he would even ask.

As you reached up to grab at his shirt, he stopped you, his own hands holding your wrists in place between the two of you. “No. I need to hear you say it. Tell me this is what you want. Tell me you want me to fuck you or I’m leaving.”

It didn’t sound like a threat, but your heart still started beating like it was one. Your ears burned hot, feet becoming clammy and the mere thought that he could be trying to find a way out, that he actually wanted to leave. Eyes wide and lips puckered out in a pout, trying to process his words.

Your hesitation broke something in Peter, the look on his face softening as his grip let go of your hands. One hand cupped your chin, palm spreading wide and cold rings cooling your heated skin, the other wrapping around your waist as he pulled you from the wall and closed some of the space again.

“I want to get on my knees while you lay on your bed, legs spread wide for me while I eat your pussy until you’ve cum on my tongue. Then, I want to fuck you nice and deep until your legs are shaking and you’ve cum again. Does that sound good to you, baby? Can I do that for you?” Peter's voice was raspy, scratching an itch you didn’t know you had.

Once you nodded, Peter smiled, placing the softest of kisses to your cheek, then your nose, then your other cheek, and finally your forehead. His breath came out fanning against your skin, eyes fluttering closed. “Then, you are going to look me in the eye and tell me you want this, that you want me. Yeah?”

With another soft nod from you, Peter pulled back, your eyes opened, voice feeling lost in your body as you breathed out, “I want you to fuck me, Peter. I want you,” he didn’t need to know for how long, you weren’t even sure for how long you’ve craved him. That was a conversation for later.

“Good fucking girl,” he purred out before pressing his lips to yours again. This time, with a soft fervor, more exploratory as his tongue slid between your lips, hands moving to your hips and his thumbs rubbing soft circles against your jeans.

Everything about Peter, about this moment was dizzying. It was more dizzying than the vodka earlier, his touch lighting every inch of skin in his wake ablaze. Between his heady scent and the beer you could still taste on him, you questioned if you had ever actually been drunk, ever actually knew what intoxication felt like. The drinks you shared, joints you’ve passed back and forth, nothing could quite touch the way his kiss alone was making you feel.

Peter’s lips left yours, trailing along your jawline and down your neck, soft kisses becoming little nips as he began guiding you backwards throughout your apartment. It wasn’t hard to get to your room, the small space working in your favor for the first time since moving in. Somewhere along the way, he had toed off his shoes, his hands already deftly unbuttoning your jeans the moment the back of your legs his the edge of your bed.

He pulled back, much to your dismay, a small laugh leaving him as he felt you trying to chase after his lips once they left your skin. “So needy,” he hummed, a hand coming up to hold your chin, lidded eyes darting from your lips to your eyes, “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

The question sent a wave of heat through you, almost reminiscent of embarrassment as your thighs clenched tightly, seeking any sort of friction. “Okay,” you breathed out, an unexpected whine leaving you at the sound of how breathy you were.

The noise that left you had Peter’s jaw clenching, his lip pulling between his teeth for a moment while he gathered himself. “Lay down for me, pretty girl,” Peter commanded, eyes holding your gaze as he slowly knelt down in front of you.

The image was worth committing to memory. Peter’s fluffy hair was slightly disheveled, lips glistening and kiss swollen, eyes lidded and dark with desire, sitting back on his calves with his hands clasped in his lap, waiting patiently. There was something so intimate in the way he was sitting before you, a subtle desperation with how his fingers were twitching to touch you again.

You couldn’t look away from him if you tried, couldn’t bring yourself to deprive him even if you wanted to. “Do you wa-”

“Just lay down,” his resolve broke a little, hands reaching up to grip your thighs, massaging softly. “I’ll do the work this time, baby.”

This time. He said it like he was already planning on their being a next time, like he’d been waiting for this time.

Peter’s hands gripped a little tighter as you sat down on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your elbows to keep your gaze connected with his. It felt like a million years as his hands worked their way up your thighs, gripping the top of your jeans and pulling them down, leaving your panties in place as he helped you out of the restrictive material.

“Fuck,” he let out a heavy breath as he settled himself better between your spread legs, “So wet and all I’ve done is kiss you.” His hands returned back to your thighs, squeezing at the fat of them softly and relishing in the way you squirmed.

His hands reached for the band of your underwear, eyes taking in the way you looked in his hoodie with your underwear soaked through. The coolness of his rings was a stark contrast to the heat of your skin as his fingers hooked around the fabric. “Can I take these off?” He asked, eyes flicking back up to yours.

There was something about the way he was constantly checking in, the slight restraint in his movements as he made sure you were still wanting this. “Yes,” tilting your hips up some, Peter pulled them down, maneuvering your legs until your panties had been tossed somewhere and your thighs had been sat atop his shoulders.

That was the last big of resolve Peter had though, hands gripping your hips again and pulling you towards him. His hands wrapped underneath you, hands gripping at your ass as he held you up to his mouth, just slightly off the bed, and the perfect height for him to close the space between the two of you. He wasted no time, tongue swiping from your weeping core to your aching clit, a pleased noise vibrating against you as he messily licked up everything you were offering to him.

From where you laid, Peter looked like he was experiencing heaven on Earth. His eyes had fluttered close, hand gripping you like if he loosened up even the slightest you’d squirm away. In his defense, it was damn near impossible to stay still, his contentment to be knelt between your thighs having your hips jutting in pure desire.

“Peter,” his name tumbling out of your lips, had his eyes open, looking up at you just as his lips wrapped around your clit. The moan that left you sounding exaggerated even to your own ears and your hand reaching down to card through his hair.

He hummed against you as your nails scratched his scalp softly, sending vibrations through you that somersaulted you closer to the edge. It was humiliating how quickly you felt that high coming, especially when you were admittedly doubting his ability to make you cum with his mouth. It had never happened before, but here Peter was feasting on you like you were his last meal, like a man who just walked days in the Sahara and you were his first drink.

“Peter- I-” your words were lost between moans, the glance down to him revealing his intent gaze still locked on your face. Even with him still buried between your thighs, you could see the sheen of arousal coating his nose and cheeks that poked out from between your folds.

There was no other warning as pleasure ripped through you, washing over you like a tsunami as you reached your high. Peter didn’t let up, moans ripping from your in breathy pitches, broken with squeaks and almost giggles as his ministrations bordered on overstimulating you. It wasn’t until you were pulling his hair in an attempt to pull him away that he stopped.

Peter pulled away, sucking in a deep breath that fanned across your soaked skin as he breathed out. The entire bottom half of his face was slick with your arousal, lips puffy from sucking and kissing at you. He gently sat you down, pressing light kisses to your thighs as he did. “You taste so fucking good,” he suddenly wrapped and suctioned his lips to the sensitive part of your inner thighs, sucking roughly and nibbling, instantly pulling a shocked gasp from his lips.

The moment he felt you tug at his hair he stopped, his eyes glancing over the mark he left on your skin - faint now but sure to blossom into a bruise to remind you for days to come. “Couldn’t help myself,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the spot before glancing up at you, “‘m sorry.”

It was obvious by his lidded gaze that he was, in fact, not sorry. Not that you could care at the moment. It was quick after that, Peter standing from his kneeling position as he discarded his shirt and jeans, his boxer briefs leaving little to the imagination as his dick struggled against the fabric, a darkened stain where precum leaked from him. He shuffled you back, helping you to take off his hoodie and your shirt, fingers making quick work of your break the second he could and tossing it along with the other forgotten clothing.

“Look at you,” he hummed out as his hands started trailing along your sides, his body moving to hover over yours as he settled atop you on the bed. “Might actually need to thank Justin if I ever see that bastard again.”

You weren’t going to correct Peter this time, you didn’t even want to be thinking about that asshole. Not when Peter was in your bed, and especially not when he just made you cum in a matter of minutes. Reaching up to card your fingers through hair and pulling him close to shut him up with a kiss.

Peter didn’t complain, lips and tongue kissing back with messy need. He tasted like you, cheeks sticky with the remnants of your release. One arm planted next to your head, his free hand roaming along your side. As he trailed it upward, his thumb bruised along your breast, tentative and experimental. His touch moved inward with each motion until he was brushing your nipple, flicking the hardened nub softly.

The soft touch sent waves of pleasure, lighting a whole new level of desire in you. It was making you nearly insatiable, like every touch was making you spiral further from wanting and closer to needing him. It wasn’t until you were squirming and whimpering against his lips that he pulled back some, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Sound so pretty and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” the kiss he pressed to your nose was a drastic juxtaposition to the filthy words leaving his mouth, “You gonna let me, hm?” He asked, kissing your cheek and lips moving towards your ear, “Gonna let me stretch you out?”

Your nod was instant, eyes opening to stare at him as he pulled off of you. Your complaint died on your lips as he reached for his jeans, watching as he pulled out his wallet and the subsequent metallic wrapper of a condom. His eyes glanced at you, your chest heaving, thighs glistening with your own arousal, the image causing his cock to strain and twitch in the confines of his boxers.

There was silence as he ripped open the condom, pulling down his boxers to finally reveal his cock. It was embarrassing the way your mouth watered at the sight. He was easily the longest you’ve had, a drastic difference to the last one, bright red and leaking pre-cum, a strong vein running along the underside, curved up just slightly.

He was on you again before you could protest, wanting to admire him just a little longer. He was quick, hands gripping your hips and pulling you down to where he was kneeling, pulling the tiniest squeak from you. He watched as you trying to instinctively wrap your legs around him, but he stopped you, moving your legs until your calves rested against his shoulders, legs encasing his face like a picture frame.

“Please,” you whined, squirming slightly as you felt his tip grazing your sopping folds.

“Such a quick learner, but you’re gonna have to be more specific than that.” His tone was dripping with tease, the slightest thrust of his hips forcing his tip to just barely nudge inside you.

“Please fuck me,” you whined, “Please , Peter, I-”

The moment you said his name he was thrusting inside of you with one push.Thick cock pushing inside, tight walls squeezing him, the lubricated condom and sheer wetness between your legs allowing him the ability to spear himself in. He didn’t wait, a loud groaning leaving him before he was pulling all the way out and pushing right back in.

His pace was brutal. Sharp thrusts causing his thighs to slam against yours with a slap, the loud, wet squelching noise every time he pulled out indication of just how much you fucking loved it. There was no denying it even if you wanted to, back arching each time he hit a spot you honestly didn’t believe existed, loud moans leaving your parted lips as you eyes threatened to leave his gaze and roll back into your skull.

Peter leaned forward some, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper as his thrusts were starting to turn into a deep grind. His hand moved one of your legs to wrap around his waist, leaning down even more until you could feel his weight being held up by partly your leg still against his chest.

“I can feel it,” his voice was more gravelly than you’ve ever heard it before, his palm sitting against your lower abdomen now and pushing, the pressure sending your mind whirling. “Can you, baby? Can you feel how deep I am?”

His words made a whine leave your lips but when you didn’t answer, he started pressing even harder, “Answer me, and I’ll rub your pretty little clit until you're cumming on me.”

The thought had a choked noise leaving you, desire like a hot iron rod piercing through you with his every move. You were so close, and his offer would be the thing to undoubtedly unravel you. “Y-yes- So deep, Pe-Peter. So fucking deep,” your hands reached under your thighs, desperate to touch any part of him, nails digging softly into his skin and trailing down towards his knees, leaving angry marks in their wake.

Peter groaned, his own eyes fluttering at the scratches and head tilting back some. The hand on you ventured lower, thumb parting between your folds and rubbing figure eights on the sensitive bundle. Four, maybe five goes before the breath was stuck in your lungs, body seizing up as pleasure wreaked havoc on every nerve in your body.

His hips faltered at the way your walls were starting to grip him, sucking him in impossibly more. Moans were falling past your lips with stuttering breath, broken and loud. Your nails anchoring into his skin for something to hold onto once your hips begin rocking against his, riding out your own orgasm with the intensity of a storm.

The scene alone with your mouth parted, a sheen of sweat on your skin, and watching you rock against him pushed Peter towards his own high. You could feel the way his cock pulsed inside the condom, a strangled whimper and moan leaving his own lips.

With a shaky breath, he moved your other leg to wrap around his thigh, collapsing softly on top of you with his cock still buried deep. Immediately, a soft giggle left your lips, baffled and amused once reality finally hit. Your best friend just fucked you.

Peter glanced up at you, his eyebrows furrowing and lips twitching to fight his own laughter, “What’s so funny?”

“This,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling bashful despite what just transpired. “Never in a million years did I think this would happen.”

There was a ghost of concern on his face, one of his arms moving to hold himself up so he could get a better look at you. “Do you regret it?”

The softness of his words sent a pang of guilt through you. Do you regret it? Could you regret it? “No,” you answered softly, “Though I- I’m just- What do we do after this?”

Your answer seemed to relieve him, a breath leaving him before he pressed a quick kiss to your nose and was moving again. Peter softly pulled himself out, standing and tying the condom up before tossing it in your trash bin by your desk. “Depends on what you want. We can never talk about it again, or keep it casual if you’re looking for something low risk,” he shrugged as he offered.

It wasn’t lost on you that he wasn’t looking at you as you spoke. “What does casual entail?” You found yourself asking a little too quickly.

Peter looked at you for a moment before turning to leave the room, his sudden, and naked, departure confusing until he returned a minute later with a washcloth. He came back over to you, spreading your legs and moving you like some doll as he wiped you clean, not missing your thighs as he did before doing the same to himself. “Casual is exactly as it sounds. You’re one of my best friends, but we can fuck every now an then, whenever you need it or the mood strikes. Could be next week, could be months.”

You found yourself sitting up, throwing the blanket over yourself as you watched him start getting dressed. “And I’m assuming we tell no one?”

Peter chuckled softly, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks, “Not no one, necessarily, just not our friends, ya know? Don’t want it to make the friend group messy.” It made sense, and it would be nice to have someone competent to scratch the occasional itch without needing to put your safety or sanity at risk. Peter pulled his shirt on before looking back at you, “So, choice is yours, babe.”

You let out a shaky breath, pushing down the cloud of anxiety that was threatening to swirl a storm in you. “Casual it is then.”

Peter smiled, something closer to a smirk but softer, and like it was meant only for you. “Casual.” He nodded in agreement. He grabbed your pajamas that had been sitting on your desk from the previous night, tossing them to you. “Come let me out so you can lock the door,” he requested, heading out of your bedroom. From where you sat you could see him toeing his shoes back one.

Pulling your pajamas on, you followed behind him, offering him a hushed goodbye that he gave in turn with a kiss to your hairline before making his way out your door. Once he heard the noise of your deadbolt twisting into place he was gone, leaving you to wander back to your bed as you began processing what just happened.

It felt surreal, but the sight of his hoodie hanging off you bed was the confirmation you brain needed.

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut #techbro!peter parker #techbro!peter #techbro!peter parker x reader #techbro!peter x reader #techbro!peter x bestfriend!reader #techbro!peter parker x bestfriend!reader #smut #tasm peter #tasm peter parker #tasm peter smut #tasm peter parker smut #x reader #x reader smut #techbro!peter smut #techbro!peter parker smut

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butlervibesonly · 2 months ago

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𝟕𝟑 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘/𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐑

• Summary: You are an actress and Austin’s wife. Vogue has decided to make one of their famous interviews and you are more than happy to do it!

• Pairing: Austin Butler x Priscilla actress! reader

• Warnings: None, probably just my own admit that there is definitely not 73 questions cause it was so hard to make up

• Note: Hi there, loves! I watched 73 questions Vogue videos and I thought of this! All replies are from my head, and they are of course not personalized. Since we are all different you can change to reply for yourself, just like you would do! 🤍

“Okay, so Y/n, tell us what’s the first thing you do when you wake up?”

You smile, walking through your and Austin’s house.

“The first thing that I do when I wake up? I kiss my husband!”

“How would you describe your morning routine in three words?”

You think for a while, coming up with the three perfect words.

“Slow… cozy and… romantic.”

“Poetic! What’s the best part about being married to an actor?”

You step into your living room, camera following you to the couch.

“Probably the fact we get to live a thousand lives together.”

“Beautifully said! Is there any biggest challenge of working with your spouse?”

You chuckle, knowing exactly how to answer this.

“Probably film serious scenes. We can’t be serious when we’re together!”

You laugh, recalling the times when you and Austin couldn’t stop laughing while shooting arguing scene.

“What’s the most romantic thing Austin has ever done for you?”

Austin has done so many beautiful things but…

“Hmm... The fact that he married me and is spending the rest of his life with me is the most romantic thing I could wish for.”

The interviewer smiles, loving your answer.

“Ah, you two! If you and your husband could remake any classic film together, which one would it be?”

You laugh, as you look at your coffee table in front of you. There is the book that’s movie adaptation is your answer.

“Pride and Prejudice, indeed. I need to see Aus as Mr. Darcy flexing his hand!”

“What’s the secret to your on-screen chemistry?”

“There is no secret, we just go with the flow and let things come naturally.”

You stand up and make your way to kitchen.

“What’s one word that perfectly describes your relationship?”

“Passion.”

“Vintage or modern—if you had to choose one forever?”

You turn to your house, sensing the answer.

“Both mixed together! Duh!”

“What’s some of your most prized vintage possession?”

You smile widely, as you turn to arrange the flowers in your vase.

“A piece of jewelry that once belonged to Audrey Hepburn."

“Is there any classic Hollywood couple that inspires you?”

“Mmm… Love of Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy was really interesting!”

You walk over to the musical part of your house.

“Wow! You have a lot of vinyls! What’s your go-to Elvis Presley song?”

Austin would love this question, but so do you.

“I would say… Where No One Stands Alone. The cover with Lisa Marie.”

“Perfect choice! If you could travel to one decade for one day, which one would it be?”

You sit down by the piano.

“The 1970s—pure rock and roll energy. Obviously!”

“Haha! I should have expected that! What’s your dream role that hasn’t happened yet?”

You look back at your roles and think…

“Something completely unexpected—a gritty, transformative role that challenges everything I’ve done before.”

“Y/n, I think fans are dying to know; what’s Austin’s underrated talent?”

With a grin you reply very quickly.

“He’s an incredible cook! Our kitchen turns into a five-star restaurant when Austin leads the kitchen and also, he writes the sweetest handwritten notes—every single one of them is a keeper.”

“That’s wonderful! What’s a book you recommend to everyone?”

You move to your bookshelf where you and Austin keep your books.

“Probably… Great Gatsby. Wonderful story and! Pride and Prejudice of course!”

You grin.

“If you could have coffee with any author, dead or alive, who would it be?”

“Jane Austen… Louisa May Alcott and… J. K. Rowling.”

“That would be fantastic meeting! What’s a fictional character you relate to the most?”

“That’s tricky one�� Maybe Jo March? I love books, independence, and a little bit of rebellion.”

You lead the way to your yard.

“Who’s your dream co-star?”

“Meryl Streep.”

“Who is your biggest inspiration?”

You sit down on the porch.

“My husband—his passion and dedication push me to be better every day.”

“Do you prefer preparing for dramatic roles or lighthearted ones?”

“Preparing for both is fun!”

“Sweet or savory?”

“Sweet, anything homemade.”

“What’s your favorite movie that you and your husband have done together?”

You smile, thinking.

“Every single one is beautiful, but Elvis was fun.”

“What’s one film you both watch over and over again?”

“Easy! The Notebook!”

“Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“I do.”

You reply simply, because that’s exactly how you and Austin fell in love.

“What’s your idea of the perfect date night?”

“Good food, movie and each other’s company.”

“Sounds romantic! What’s the best meal you’ve ever had?”

“True, Italian Carbonara!”

“Who’s the funniest person you know?”

“Awh, c’mon… my husband again!”

“What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?”

“That I am the best wife-“

You reply with love and affection.

“If you could own any piece of Hollywood memorabilia, what would it be?”

“That’s a tough one… I have no idea, probably script of Titanic?”

“Do you have any pre-show or on-set rituals?”

You nod.

“Listening to music eases my tense.”

“How do you unwind after a long day of filming?”

“Hot bath, and a good book.”

“What’s one thing your fans might not know about you?”

“I can’t go a day without reading a chapter from a book—even if it’s just a few pages.”

You chuckle, admitting.

“What’s your most-used phrase on set?”

“I am really clumsy sometimes so I say; Can we film that again?”

You can’t help but laugh.

“Cats or dogs?”

“Dogs!”

“Heels or flats?”

“Depends on where I wear it!”

“What’s your go-to accessory?”

You look at your hand.

“My wedding ring. Anywhere, anytime.”

“What’s a fashion trend from the past you’d love to bring back?”

You gasp, loving the question.

“Oh! I don’t know if this was ever fashion trend but I loved the way Princess Diana combined hoodie and cycle shorts!”

“What’s your signature perfume?”

“I love Miss Dior!”

You stand up and go your garden.

“Who’s your ultimate Hollywood icon?”

“Audrey Hepburn! I really love her, she was splendid actress.”

“What’s your dream vacation destination?”

You stop by your pool and smile.

“Some tropical paradise… Mauritius let’s say.”

“What’s a talent you wish you had?”

“I wish I could play the violin. Or any other musical instrument.”

“How do you memorize lines so quickly?”

You smile and raise your eyebrow.

“Who said I memorized them quickly?”

“What’s your favorite piece of furniture in your home”

“Even tho I can’t play it, probably our piano. I love watching Austin play it.”

“What’s one thing you always keep in your purse?”

As you remember, smile forms on your cheeks again.

“I carry a four leaf clover in my wallet. It’s my lucky charm!”

“What’s your favorite thing about being on set?”

“Making a lot of memories with my co-stars and having a lot of fun.”

“What’s a song that always gets you in a good mood?”

You chuckle and try to think of one song.

“I would say Dog Days Are Over by Florence & The Machine.”

“That’s catchy one! What’s your hidden talent?”

“Hidden talent? Haha, I have no clue!”

“How do you handle nerves before a big event?”

“Dancing! Shaking off the stress and nerves.”

“What’s your favorite way to spend a Sunday?”

“I love lazy Sundays so cuddles on couch, movies sometimes walks.”

You get up and walk to your house again.

“If you weren’t an actress, what would you be doing?”

You walk into the house and think about it.

“Probably… Fashion designer.”

“What’s your biggest pet peeve?”

“I really don’t like when you are talking to someone and they are not listening. Communication is a key.”

“What’s your go-to comfort food?”

“Croissants. Try the ones filled with chocolate!”

“What’s a moment in your career that you’ll never forget?”

“When Aus was nominated for an Oscar and both of us were surrounded by the actors we always looked up to.”

“What’s your favorite holiday tradition?”

“I love to bake gingerbread cookies on Christmas!”

“What’s the last book you read?”

You look back to your shelf.

“The last thing I read is From Here To The Great Unknown.”

“Who’s your ultimate style icon?”

“My dear friend Zendaya!”

“How cool! What’s the best advice you’ve ever received about marriage?”

You smile warmly, thinking of Austin immediately.

“Always support each other’s dreams, even when they take you in unexpected directions.”

“That’s beautiful, Y/n… What’s your favorite part of old Hollywood glamour?”

“The elegance—everyone carried themselves with such grace and mystery.”

You explain with a wink.

“What’s one thing about fame you didn’t expect?”

That’s interesting question you never thought about.

“How much more I’d value my private life once my public life got bigger… I appreciate the quiet moments away from it all.”

“How do you handle bad days?”

“Austin makes me happy. Always. Whenever I feel down he is my reason to raise up again.”

“Speaking of him… What’s a hobby you and your husband love doing together?”

“We try new stuff together! Whether it’s sport, art or anything else, we always try to do new things together.”

“If you could duet with Elvis on one song, which one would it be?”

You laugh, loving the thought of it.

“Well… maybe the classic Can’t Help Falling In Love.”

“What’s your biggest career goal right now?”

“Right now I focus on the upcoming projects, and do my best to make them happen.”

“Goos luck with them! What’s a quality you admire in your husband?”

“That he always listens. He can just sit there and listen to my hourly talking, but he listens every single word.”

You smile warmly, love spreading through your chest.

“What’s a quality he admires in you?”

“He always says I make any place feel like home.”

“How do you want to be remembered in Hollywood?”

“For my performances, but also for my kindness.”

“What’s your biggest hope for the future?”

“To build a family, a home, and a results of work I’m proud of.”

“And lastly what’s one piece of advice you’d give your younger self?”

“You don’t have to be perfect to be successful—just be real.”

From the many interviews you ever did — this was your favorite. Finally you could share the love and passion for everything. For your career, and especially for the love of your life.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler x you #austin butler fandom #austin butler x y/n #austinbutler #austin butler fic #austin butler imagines

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

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Persian Queen

❝commission: non-con/dun-con smut with Alexander the Great where the Reader is the Queen of Persia and Alexander decides to... know the Reader in front of the King and Reader enjoys it.

❝ 📜 — lady l: I really need to try to improve my smuts... But I don't write them that often :V anyway, I hope you like it! Forgive me for any mistakes!! ❤️

❝tw: non-con/dub-con elements, smut, NSFW, threat of murder, adultery.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,833.

Your heart was racing and it felt like it was beating harder and harder inside your chest with every step you took towards the new chambers of the new King of Persia.

Alexander of Macedonia.

You felt your mouth go dry with disgust. He was not the King, just a barbarian who invaded your Empire and took it at the cost of the lives of thousands of people. Darius, your husband, tried to fight against the Macedonians but even the strength and power that the Persians possessed were not enough to stop Alexander's ambition for Persia.

And now, you were his hostages.

You looked at one of the windows in the hallway and observed what little you could see of the city. Babylon was a beautiful and lively city and even with the occupation of the Macedonians this had not changed. And for that you were grateful.

When you reached the door to Darius's and now Alexander's old chambers, you took a deep breath and mentally counted to three and when you did, you finally knocked on the door hesitantly.

"Come in." A loud, hoarse voice resounded from within the chambers. You slowly opened the door and peeked inside. You felt your anxiety increase, your breathing become heavy when you noticed that Alexander was with Darius, your husband.

And Darius was securely strapped to a gold-trimmed chair.

You entered the room slowly and closed the door behind you, feeling terrified of what could happen.

Alexander looked at you with a smile gracing his lips. You felt a shiver run down your spine due to what that smile could mean.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Your Majesty." Alexander said, looking at you with interest shining in his different colored eyes. One brown and one blue. You cursed yourself for finding them beautiful, for finding Alexander an attractive man.

One thing you found good about Alexander, perhaps the only thing, was that he still treated you with respect and dignity. Although he had the right to kill you or send you into slavery, he allowed you to maintain your status as Queen, your privileges and all your due honors.

"I say the same, my King." You tried to hide the disgust you felt when calling him King. Alexander wasn't your king, at least you didn't consider him one.

You turned your gaze to Darius, who looked slightly terrified, although he hid it well. But you knew him and you knew that what he felt was pure fear. Fear for him and for you.

Alexander followed your gaze and smiled, "Your husband is here to have full knowledge of my plans as King of Persia."

You swallowed hard, "... What does that mean?"

You had a bad feeling when Alexander approached you and stood behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders covered in the rich fabric that adorned your body.

Alexander tilted his head to the side and you suppressed a groan of revulsion — that's what you believed it was — when his warm breath caressed the sensitive skin of your neck.

Alexander's hands went to your arms, caressing them with his calloused fingers. You closed your eyes, not being able to bear to look at Darius, who was watching everything angrily.

You felt your face heat up when you felt Alexander's calm breath in your ear, "It means I'm going to take you as mine."

You felt your body tense even more as Alexander's words registered in your mind. What they meant.

In the blink of an eye, Alexander spun you around so you were facing him. When you looked into his eyes, you saw desire, pure lust shining in them. Alexander smiled and brought his index finger to your chin, lifting it. You held your breath as he brought your face closer to his, capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

Your body trembled slightly at the brush of his lips against yours. You closed your eyes when Alexander brought his hands to your head, holding it as he kissed you harder, with more passion. You opened your mouth a little wider when you felt Alexander's tongue on your lips, indicating that he wanted to deepen the kiss and, for some inexplicable reason, you allowed it.

You hesitantly wrapped your arms around the conqueror's strong body, kissing him back with the same desire. It was wrong for many reasons, but it had been a while since you had been touched and Alexander's kisses were hot, they warmed your body in a way that even the thickest fur blankets couldn't.

It was the kind of kiss, of touch, that you knew you would never forget.

When you separated, your breathing was ragged, your face hot and your lips slightly swollen. You refused to look him in the eye, feeling guilty for having betrayed your husband, who was watching everything. Alexander noticed this and smiled mischievously.

''Don't worry about him.'' He purred and grabbed your hand, pulling you to the huge bed in the middle of the room. Bed you knew well enough, remembering the passionate and steamy nights you used to have with Darius. You shook your head, trying not to think about it as you were laid down on the bed by Alexander.

You knew what was going to happen, you knew what Alexander planned to do the moment you felt him analyzing your clothes. Your body trembled slightly at the thought, but you couldn't help the heat that was also inflicted on your body as you were kissed. It had been so long since you and your husband had slept that it wasn't your fault that your body betrayed your mind.

Alexander removed his own robes, a white chiton with some gold trim, and let them fall to the carpet. He approached the bed, where you remained lying like a beautiful statue. He climbed onto the huge bed, sitting next to you. His calloused hands ran over your face gently, caressing it with tenderness that you knew could melt your defenses easily.

''Beautiful...'' He whispered, kissing your forehead gently. You smiled weakly at the compliment. Alexander kissed your lips softly, his hands going to your legs, caressing your soft thighs. He squeezed them tightly, drawing a sigh from you. You bit back a moan when you felt his fingers dangerously close to your center covered only by your clothing. Alexander smiled and without you being able to do anything, he slid two fingers into your intimacy, arching his eyebrow when he felt the moisture there.

You blushed heavily and turned your head, looking to the side. Alexander began to lift the hem of your dress, exposing your legs and leaving them free to be touched and appreciated. You let out a soft moan when Alexander's fingers rubbed your pleasure spot between your legs, making you relax your body, opening your legs a little wider. Alexander took the opening and slipped between your legs, caressing your thighs with one hand and the other exploring your wet cunt.

''A-Ah...'' You sighed when Alexander finally entered a finger into your tight, wet hole. Your body felt hot, the robes you wore didn't help with how hot the room became.

Alexander smiled even wider and kissed the inside of your warm thighs, inserting a second finger into your pussy. You cursed as he moved back and forth and your sensitive walls squeezed his fingers. You were already wet and ready, your cunt sensitive to the touch it hadn't had in a long time.

''You're so beautiful, so soft.'' Alexander purred, removing his wet fingers from your pussy and taking them to his mouth, tasting you. You felt like you were going to pass out at the sight, at the sight of him delighting in your taste.

He stood over you, bringing his face closer to yours and taking your lips in another passionate kiss, and this time, without any hesitation, you kissed him back, your tongues meeting. Alexander pulled the top part of your dress down, ripping off the jewelry that adorned you and throwing them anywhere in the room. He stopped kissing you and went down to your breasts and licked the tip of your right breast, sucking it a little hard.

You moaned at the contact and threw your head back, enjoying the licks. Your breasts have always been a sensitive part of you and it only proved more and more that Alexander paid attention to them and the desire inside you grew more and more. You didn't even notice when you started rubbing one thigh against the other, in an attempt to alleviate the desire.

But Alexander noticed and he decided not to make you wait any longer to be filled. He positioned himself correctly between your thighs and you caught a glimpse of his erection. Your face turned a shade of scarlet with his visible desire, the tip leaking precum. Alexander grabbed your thighs, lifting them a little for a better angle. He placed the tip of his cock against the entrance to your pussy and, after squeezing your thigh once more, Alexander thrusted into you hard.

You moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion and gripped the sheets tightly, your knuckles turning white. Alexander didn't really give you time to adjust, he just started fucking you hard, pushing you harder against the silk sheets.

The only sounds in the room were your moans and Alexander's hoarse moans. He grabbed your left breast, squeezing it as he thrust his hips hard, slamming into you. You threw your head back, your eyes closing as all you felt was Alexander inside you.

''So fucking beautiful...'' Alexander groaned, watching your face. You were so beautiful. And so his. Alexander didn't care that Darius, your husband for now, was watching him take you. Alexander just wanted you.

Alexander squeezed your thighs tighter as he felt his climax approaching. Feeling this, he started to hit you harder, eliciting loud moans from you. When he finally came, he moaned your name loudly like a prayer, his cum filling your warm insides. Alexander took a deep breath and pulled away from you.

You continued to lie down, feeling as guilty as you were satisfied. You could feel Alexander's seed inside you, with the possibility of making you pregnant. But you were too breathless to do anything, too tired to care.

Alexander smiled and turned to Darius, who had an expression of fury. The conqueror had almost forgotten the former King.

''Now that I have taken your Empire and now your wife...'' Alexander smiled mischievously at Darius, ''The time has come to take your life so that I can marry your wife.''

The Macedonians loved to conquer what did not belong to them.

#history #yandere history #yandere historical characters #alexander the great x reader #yandere Alexander the Great #yandere alexander the great x reader #imagine #yandere imagine #smut #commission

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worfs-glorious-hair · 2 months ago

Note

Hello hello! I have a question for YOU! 💜

In your recent post with your absolutely lovely pics of Gale and Tav kissing in front of Mystra’s statue, you talked briefly about how it’s poetic that Tav’s hand (and then Gale’s) will cover Mystra’s earring.

I…must shamefully admit that I have never even considered that or realized that that was happening in that kiss 😅 I hope that my Galemancer license will not be revoked as a result LOL

Since you were astute enough to notice that detail, what I wanted to ask was: do you think Gale does this gesture purposefully, to reinforce to Tav that they are first in his heart and more important to him than Mystra?

Or do you think he does it unknowingly, which means that Mystra and her earring/symbol is now of so little importance to him that he doesn’t even think about it?

Or perhaps there’s a third option I’m not thinking of?

I’d love to hear your thoughts if you feel up to answering, but no pressure at all! Thank you!

AHHH HELLO, HELLO! 💜💜💜

I am so honoured that you, the well-renowned authority on all things Gale meta and lore, are asking me a question! 😭😱

Your ask made me very giddy and woke me up properly early this morning before work, so thank you! It truly made my morning!

Thank you so much for enjoying my “Tav’s Chosen” picture set and your overall generous and very, very kind words! 💖🫶

✨Your generosity is quite wonderful ✨

Now on to your very intriguing and very wonderful question that I am delighted to answer throughly, you are asking me after all about Gale and Tav, which is my favourite thing to talk about :D

But first of all, I also only actively noticed the (potential) significance of Tav covering Gale’s earring when I posted the photos. No matter how often I have seen this kiss before.

I have been there in the Stormshore Tabernacle three times now and done this kiss… well… more often than three times :D The moment right before the kiss is may or may not my current lockscreen so I’d say nobody’s Galemance license gets revoked today because mine would be taken too (😭). As if our wizard would ever let us go over such a minor thing 💜

Anyhoo, is Gale aware of what he and Tav are doing with the earring?

I don’t think so.

When Tav looks at him like he is a piece of art, when they look at him and everyone else can see how much they love him, when they only wish to show him how loved he is, only want to show him that he is safe with them and that they adore no one else like they adore him – no they aren’t considering the earring, they aren’t considering Mystra when they reach for him, when they want (and will) cradle his face in their hands.

And Gale smiles at them wordlessly, eyes sparkling, full of reverent contentment, expecting their touch.

There are no words needed, everything that Tav wants to tell him rests in the warmth of their hand against his cheek, skin to skin, it is laced in the way their thumb plays with the soft loose hairs just above his beard.

I love you. Just you. I have never loved anyone like I love you. I care for you. I will protect you, come what may. If getting abducted by a dangerous cult and loosing all of my abilities was necessary to have met you, well, then I would do it a thousand times over just for a chance to find you over and over again and to get to love you over and over again. To hold you over and over again. I want to hold you for the rest of my life! I am grateful beyond any words that I have found you. That I get to love you!

And he understands. He hears the unspoken words. They are his just as much.

And Gale pulls Tav’s hand immediately closer to him, wanting them all around him, the warmth of their hand against his cheek, their thumb playing gently with his hair above his beard. Their shared human well, you know what I mean touch. His hand on top of theirs, skin to skin. Warm, alive and real.

Together. Connected. Gentle.

And Mystra doesn’t matter. The earring doesn’t matter. It’s just jewellery – at least for this moment.

For me it is more than them doing it subconsciously. The reassurance that Mystra is his past and Tav is his present and his future lays in the touch of hands itself. It is the connection between two mortals, made from flesh and bone and a beating heart and living soul, who chose each other. Who love each other.

tl;dnr The earring doesn’t matter because Tav and Gale made a decision for each other and are mortal human together!

Dear @dekariosclan I hope you enjoyed my take on your question. And I took the liberty to be a little self-indulgent and included pictures from Tav and Gale that I took recently and may or may not use as a lockscreen, them bathed in gentle sunlight is my favourite thing!

#gale x reader #gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale headcanons #bg3 headcanons #gale bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 meta #bg3 analysis #gale analysis #bg3 #bg3 mystra #word-asks

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ashbye · 11 months ago

Text

Fashion Show

-Look y'all I know I've been gone but I had a vision ok it came to me while I was doing yard work and I had to so enjoy. There's plot guys 🤚😔

Summary: While on a run you find something that would be the perfect surprise for Daryl. You show him and are very happy with the outcome.

-It's smutty oops 18+ 🤭 and not beta read. There's swearing so prepare yourselves. I HATE THE WORD PANTIES SO IM NOT WRITING IT! Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

-Alexandria era (probably) and I am a women so its she/her (sorry)

It had been a while since you'd gone outside of the walls so you jumped at the chance to go on a run. Although you had wanted Daryl to join you he was unfortunately busy. Maggie and Michonne were joining you today so you can't complain.

After gathering the needed weapons and equipment you headed with the girls to a mall nearby that hadn't been checked thoroughly yet.

You got to the mall in record time with Michonne driving. Grabbing your machete in your hand and putting your gun in its holster, you got out of the car walking to the entrance behind Maggie.

"Why are we back here again I thought some guys had cleared it out already?" You asked turning to Michonne.

"They said there was too many walkers to get too far in do we're checking again."

You turned towards the door with a hum sound and raised your machete, walking into the mall. After scoping out the front the three of you found the mall to be almost completely empty aside from a few stray walkers that could be taken care of when you came across them.

Maggie turned to you both, "I say we split up, cover more ground."

You nodded before walking ahead as you all separated. Most stores you had looked through had been cleared out over time. There was a shirt here, a pair of socks there, but other than that it was a bit of a bust.

Until you saw a sign to a store ahead of you to your right. "No fucking way..."

You picked up the walkie talkie on your hip and called to Maggie and Michonne. "You guys are not gonna believe what I just found."

"What is it?" Michonne asked urgency in her tone.

"Either of you need any new bras?"

"Obviously, why?" Maggie was incredibly confused by now. You laughed before responding again.

"Go straight and take a right you'll find me. You need to see it to believe it." You put the walkie back after hearing Michonne say she's on her way.

You turn to the approaching footsteps and laugh. "Isn't it great? A Victoria Secret practically over flowing with unused bras and underwear!" Maggie smirked at you "You wanna find something special for Daryl huh?"

Michonne laughed at your expense but you couldn't care less because you're pretty sure you've been wearing the same bra for 2 months now.

And, duh of course you're gonna find stuff for Daryl. You're a loving girlfriend why wouldn't you get a present for him when you're on a run?

"Uh hell yeah I am! If I can find something to make me look sexy for my man of course I'm gonna take it!" You speed walk into the store with the girls following you chuckling.

You hold up a beautiful red set. It's lace would compliment her skin perfectly, you think. "Michonne, if you don't take this home for Rick, I will riot." You hold up to the girls so they can look at it.

"Oh please get that!" Maggie practically begs Michonne. "Alright I'll take it!" Michonne says with a smikr on her face after holding it up to her body.

The rest of the 'shopping spree' goes similarly, with you each holding up sheer and lace bras and panties for the others to take home and wear.

You found quite a few for yourself to surprise Daryl with later. You carefully put them in your bag with a smile.

After your escapade at Victoria Secret you all successfully grabbed every useful thing you could find and packed it into the car.

You were almost shaking with excitement when you got home, the clothes feeling like a thousand pounds in your bag.

It wasn't until everything you found that day was sorted through and put where it was supposed to be that you could go back home to Daryl. You walked through the door calling out to him that you were back. "Hey Darlin'. How was the run?" The familiar gravelly voice said from behind you.

You turned to him with a smile and placed your hands on his hips. You gave him a long kiss with a smile. "It went really well. I have a surprise for you actually." You pulled away from his face with only a few inches of space between you two.

"Surprise?" He asked with a vaguely shocked face.

You hummed with a smirk on your face. "Yeah after dinner I'll show you what your present is."

"So it's an after dinner kinda gift huh?"

You nodded before pulling away from him to hide the gifts in your bedroom. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."

It's now dark outside and Daryl is sitting on the front porch smoking a cigarette. You walk up to him and sit down, leaning your head on his shoulder with a sigh.

You sit in silence for a moment before looking up at him. "Are you ready for your surprise Dar?"

He blew smoke out of his mouth before taking the cigarette from between his lips. "Hell yeah baby." He said before grabbing your hand and pulling you up with him.

You lead him to your bedroom with a laugh excitement flowing through both of your veins. Once the door was closed behind you both you turned and gave him a searing kiss. He grabbed your hips tightly with a hum in the back of his throat.

You slowly pulled away and pushed him onto the side of the bed. "I'm gonna give you a little fashion show. How does that sound?"

He looked up at you with a slight nod before you gently slid away from him. You went to the bathroom and put on the first set you got. It was white lace with a black lace flower pattern.

You slowly cracked the door to stick out your head. "You ready?"

"Been ready Darlin'."

The door was slowly pulled away to showcase your body that you had draped across the doorframe. You smirked at him when you saw his eyes slightly widen.

"What do you think Dar?" You slowly turned you body to show him the whole thing.

"Well shit..." he was almost speechless. He wasn't sure how long he'd last. And this was only the first one!

You walked toward him and placed your hands on his shoulders. "You like it?" Your smirk had yet to wipe from your face.

"I- uh yeah ya look-" he could barely even get the words out. He could only look up and down your body with lust clouding his brain.

"I have a couple more for you to take a look at." You pulled away from him and walked back to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Daryl could barely process the fact that you even left the room.

Meanwhile, you're giggling to yourself like a schoolgirl in the bathroom at the look on his face. Once you were ready you opened the door again, looking at Daryl.

This time you're wearing a dark purple set. It had sheer lace with small lime green polka dots. "What do you think about this one? It's a little different." You said, walking up to Daryl.

"I like it." He said, eating you with his eyes like you were his last meal. You chuckled at him before doing a spin.

He nodded his head looking like his head was in the clouds. You gave his cheek a kiss with a small smile on your face. Walking backwards to the bathroom you closed the door and prepared the next one.

You walked out wearing a pale yellow lace set that had cute little bows on the front. It was less revealing but Daryl liked it just as much as the others. You could only stare as you walked up to him. Completely mesmerized with how beautiful you looked.

He wanted to worship you like a goddess. He would kneel at your altar for the rest of eternity if it meant that you would give him even a fraction of the love and elegance you grace him with everyday. You could be covered in blood and walker guts or be wearing the prettiest pale yellow lingerie he's ever seen and he would still think you're the most exquisite women he's ever seen.

"Ya're beautiful." He said, it was the only thing the connection between his brain and mouth could compute.

And you were just fine with that.

"Yeah?" You ask with a big smile on your face. He nods with a small raspy yeah that makes you chuckle. "If this one is your favorite I'll keep it on so you can make love to me or fuck me however you want."

"However I want?" He seemed almost surprised.

"However you want. We can be all slow and tender or you can fuck me so dumb I'm cock drunk. How does that sound?"

Daryl couldn't even come up with words before he stood to full height in front of you and grabbed under thighs. He turned and layed you on your back, pressing his mouth to yours in a heated kiss. His hands ran up and down your legs searching for a hold.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as a moan left your mouth. Your tongues pressed together and you gave him all control. Daryl moved you up so your head was on the pillow. He took off his vest and threw it to the side before movie his mouth to your neck. He left kisses and bites up the column of your throat.

Small sighs left your mouth and your hands ran up and down his chest. Your fingers started unbuttoning his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. You threw his shirt off to the side and it's lost to floor somewhere with his vest.

His hand made it's way up to the band of your underwear. His fingers slipped past the band and pulled it away from you skin. You yelped when Daryl let it snap back onto your skin.

His hand finally sunk past the band of your underwear and grazed your clit. You let out a sigh and brought you hand to his face to bring your lips to his. He let out a groan when you lightly bit his lip. Your leg jolted as he continued to make small circles on your clit.

You moaned again and pulled away from his lips as his fingers dipped down. "Dar please!" Left your mouth like a mantra as you gripped his shoulders and your legs pulled him closer.

"Hold on Darlin' gotta make sure ya're good and ready yeah?" His movements became faster as he felt you're pussy grip his fingers. You nod as moans leave your mouth from the feeling.

"Dar I'm gonna-" your sentence went unfinished as you felt the coil in your stomach snap. Daryl kissed you through your orgasm as your body finally relaxed. He gently slid the bottoms down your legs and onto the floor before unclipping you bra and placing it next to it. You were panting under him as his hands went to his pants. He had stripped down before you could even offer any help.

He looked in your eyes as he lined himself up with your cunt. "Ya ready baby?" You nodded as you wrapped your arms around his chest. "Yeah, yeah I'm ready." You said in a reassuring tone.

He slowly slid himself into you. "So wet baby. Taking me so good." He played his body on top of you and used his forearms to hold him over you. You sat with him for a second to get used to his size. With a nod from you he started to slowly grind his hips into yours.

Small whimpers left your mouth as his speed increased. He let out heavy breaths and groans along with his thrusts. "Fuck Dar-" you moaned as you nails dug into his back.

"I got ya baby, I got ya"

His hips got faster as you both got closer to release. Your legs locked around his hips to keep him close. "Please baby, cum inside please!" Your eyes were screwed shut tightly as Daryl's jaw hung open in pleasure.

Your pussy gripped his cock as the coil tightened for the second time tonight. "Come on Darlin' cum for me" he said to you. Your nails dragged down his back leaving angry red lines on his skin.

He let out a groan at the sting as his hips stuttered. "Holy shit Daryl!" You said as your orgasm washed over you completely. The squeezing of pussy sent Daryl over the edge as he finally let go with a loud moan. His head fell next to yours as his hips slowed, helping you ride out the wave of pleasure.

The room was quiet aside from the breaths leaving you and Daryl. He slowly pulled out of you as his cum poured out of you. He kissed your cheek and neck as his had brushed your hair out of your face. "Ya did such a good job Darlin'."

You looked up at him as you softly kissed his lips and held his face in your hand. He rolled onto his back next to you. He turned you with him so your head was on his chest.

After calming down you look up to him with tired eyes. "I love you Daryl Dixon."

He looked to you with pure love and adoration in his eyes, "I love ya too Darlin'. So much."

You layed back on his chest as you held eachother in the quiet of the night. Even though the world had practically ended, you had never felt safer and more loved than you did when you were in Daryl's arms.

#daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon smut

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burins · 2 months ago

Text

on Torchwood and the temptations of queer tragedy

(originally published in yaoi zine 5, here for ease of reading but also you should check out the fantastic scholarship in the free full PDF!!)

If you were on Tumblr in 2009-2012, you are probably aware of Torchwood. A spin off of Russell T. Davies’ 2005 reboot of Doctor Who, Torchwood stars immortal time traveler Jack Harkness (John Barrowman) as part of a cast of misfits assigned to investigate the assorted supernatural and alien debris that falls through a spacetime rift running through the heart of Cardiff. Jack Harkness, in the tradition of swashbuckling space bisexuals, is great to watch, and his slow burn romance with buttoned-up researcher Ianto is the highlight of the series. Or at least it was to me, watching it as a deeply closeted teen in 2011.

Towards the end of the third series of Torchwood, Ianto is exposed to an alien virus and dies very fetchingly in Jack’s arms. It’s extremely Mimi from La Boheme (not, for once in an essay about queer people, Rent.) Ianto knows Jack is immortal and at no risk from the virus (Jack has already survived being blown up and sealed in concrete just in the previous three episodes); he knows that Jack will have to live the rest of his very, very, very long life watching people he loves die. He asks Jack not to forget him, and Jack promises that he won’t. Ianto’s last words are to deny that Jack is capable of remembering him a thousand years into the future; Jack kisses him, succumbs to the virus, and approximately four minutes of show time later, revives.

Reader, I watched this at approximately 1 AM on my beast of a high school laptop, huddled under the covers and trying not to wake my sister by sobbing too loud. I slammed the laptop shut to have a good cry. Then I opened up the laptop and watched the scene again. It became sort of a talisman for me— any time I needed to cry and couldn’t manage it, out would come my Megavideo rip of Torchwood-ChildrenOfEarth-xVideo-x64-S03E04-HD.mkv, scrolled to 53:14. Three minute death scene, me sobbing like a baby, reliable as clockwork.

I loved it for its utility; I needed those three minutes to unlock grief I couldn’t access in other ways. I loved it despite there being two arguably sadder death scenes at the end of the second series (RIP Owen and Tosh, you deserved better.) And I loved it despite its being perhaps the most textbook example of bury your gays imaginable.

Like a lot of media analysis tools that gained widespread popularity in an era with TVTropes, “bury your gays” is a cudgel and not a scalpel. Of course no one wants to be straight people’s tragedy porn. Of course it’s grating to only ever see yourself onscreen as a cautionary tale. Of course the real life origins of the trope are rooted in homophobic moral panics and censorship. And of course many queer people are plenty tired of tragedy. We die more often than straight people, and sooner, for a variety of reasons; we live lives more affected by the mundane grinding sadnesses of poverty and illness and rejection. Is it then problematic to portray queer grief, real or fictional? What about homophobia? Is it actually inherently more revolutionary to write fantasy stories where everyone’s chill with the gays, but somehow also they still have hereditary monarchies? I don’t actually have the answers here, by the way. Like everyone’s least favorite Republican uncle I’m just asking questions.

The real problem I have with “bury your gays” is that I love to bury my gays. I don’t recommend “but I like it” as a lens of critical analysis, fan studies notwithstanding, but you show me a potential tragedy and I am pulling out the shovel. I love to watch Ianto choke to death in his lover’s arms, and I love to listen to several hundred hours of podcast about gay divorce, and I cherish everything that Interview with the Vampire AMC has going on, and I read and reread Nell driving her car into the tree, and I think stabbing is maybe the pinnacle of romance.

Why do I love a queer tragedy so? Why do I gravitate to fic that features death and despair and ideological divorce? Why, as a child, was I always putting my plastic animals through travails that wouldn’t be out of place in a particularly melodramatic episode of Game of Thrones?

The easy answer would be that I was raised Catholic and haven’t quite escaped the ideological shadow of the redemptive power of suffering, but I have too much experience with chronic pain to still think suffering is redemptive. The other obvious answer would be that I’m chasing catharsis in the classic Aristotelian sense of emotional release, but I don’t think that’s the entirety of it either. There is sometimes a sort of talismanic nature to watching, or reading about, or writing a gay tragedy, a warding off of potential harm. It does feel like a little ritual. Aristotle describes catharsis as a release of pity and fear: look at those poor bastards. And as a queer viewer, the scraped underbelly of that emotion, how easily that could be me. Thank god it isn’t.

But neither pity nor fear nor their uneasy third, disgust, are really the emotions I feel when I press repeat on tragedy. To paraphrase Sontag, I “weep in part because [I] have seen it many times. [I] want to weep. Pathos, in the form of a narrative, does not wear out.”* What I feel is grief, and also pleasure. Pleasure in ritual; pleasure in release; pleasure in a borrowed grief that is both real and unreal, because I can set it aside when the episode finally comes to its end; pleasure because after all, the painful and the erotic are never as far apart as we might pretend.

I watched Ianto’s death scene again for this essay, half-expecting that it wouldn’t really work the same. I tried rewatching Torchwood a few years ago and couldn’t make it past a few episodes. I’m not 17 anymore, and everything from the special effects to the treatment of its female characters has aged not unlike milk. I’ve found new tragedies to visit and revisit. But I did cry, watching Jack try and fail to keep his lover by his side. And it felt good.

*Regarding the Pain of Others, 83. Despite the title and the way it’s used in conversations about media (including by me, here) this is actually an essay on war photojournalism. Worth a read but not for the reasons you might think.

#yaoi zine #yaoizine #yaoi zine 5 #my fic

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gul4bjamoons · 4 months ago

Text

✩ a stubborn heart;

marcus rashford ──────

even as his body succumbs to illness, marcus’ pride refuses to let him rest, and it’s driving you to the brink of insanity.

⭑ wordcount : three thousand four hundred twenty-two.

⭑ notes : this felt fitting to post given the alleged reasonings behind his absence in the squad

˙⋆✮ masterlist.

Marcus Rashford wasn’t one to admit defeat easily—especially not to something as mundane as the flu. The moment he stepped through the door that evening, the winter’s icy fingers still clinging to him, you noticed the change. His usual confident stride was reduced to a slow shuffle, his shoulders hunched as though bearing an unseen weight. His vibrant, glowing complexion had faded to a ghostly pallor, and the light in his eyes was dimmed.

"Marcus?" you had asked softly, your voice filled with concern.

"I'm just tired." he replied, waving off your worry with a wan smile that failed to reach his eyes.

You had coaxed him into eating something—a simple meal that he picked at without enthusiasm. Every second that passed deepened your concern, each morsel he left untouched amplifying the unease in your chest. Something wasn’t right. You watched head upstairs, his steps heavy and reluctant, his usual energy drained.

Determined, you stayed back, rummaging through the cabinets for medicine, knowing full well that he would be resistant to taking it.

However, as you ascended the stairs with the pills in hand, you found him already asleep, his body curled under the blankets like a child seeking shelter from the world. His lashes rested softly against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted as he breathed evenly. He looked so peaceful, so incredibly endearing in his vulnerability, that your heart clenched with affection.

You approached quietly, not wanting to disturb the serenity of his sleep. The sight of him like this, his guard completely down, made you want to protect him from everything, even the fever that had sapped his strength. You set the medicine on the nightstand, slid under the covers beside him, and gently pulled him into your embrace. His body, warm and pliant, fit perfectly against yours, and you held him close, as if you could give him your strength through every the close contact.

Through the night, the wind howled outside, a mournful, relentless sound that rattled the windows, but you barely noticed. Your thoughts were consumed by the memory of Marcus’s weak smile, the uncharacteristic frailty that had taken over him. Sleep had barely begun to take hold when the sound of a soft whimper yanked you back into wakefulness. You turned on the bedside lamp, the soft glow revealing Marcus, his face etched with discomfort, beads of sweat dotting his forehead like morning dew on grass.

“Marcus?” you whispered, your voice a mixture of worry and tenderness. You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He flinched at your touch, his skin sizzling hot beneath your fingers.

His eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion. “I’m fine, love,” he croaked, his voice rough, each word a struggle.

You shook your head, concern knitting your brow. “You are not fine.” you said firmly, brushing a damp curl from his forehead. “Look at you. You’re burning up.”

You reached for the medicine you had set aside earlier. “Here, take this,” you whispered, helping him sit up slightly to swallow the pills. He grimaced but complied, leaning back against the pillows as you eased him down again.

“No arguments,” you said softly, tucking the blankets around him once more. “You need to rest.”

He sighed, the sound heavy and resigned. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he murmured.

“Well, you’ve managed to do just that.” you replied with a pout, your voice softening with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

As you made your way down, the house was still, the only sound was the soft hum of the heater working to keep the cold at bay. In the kitchen, you moved with efficiency, pulling out a small saucepan to prepare a simple tomato soup. The rhythmic bubbling of the broth was a soothing counterpoint to your racing thoughts. You stirred slowly as the rich aroma filled the air.

Back in the bedroom, Marcus lay where you had left him, his breathing shallow but steady. The sight of him so vulnerable tugged at your heart. Setting the bowl down gently on the nightstand, you sat beside him, brushing a hand over his forehead again.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I made you some soup. Think you can manage a few sips?” You couldn’t help the note of worry that crept into your voice. “I know you barely ate anything earlier.”

His eyes opened, clouded with fatigue but laced with gratitude. “You didn’t have to,” he whispered, his voice still hoarse, each word a strain.

“You’re right, I didn’t have to, but look at you.” you replied with a teasing lilt, lifting a spoonful to his lips. “You’re as stubborn as a mule.”

He groaned softly, the sound both endearing and pitiful. “You’re mean.” he mumbled the childlike insult, but there was no bite to his words. His eyes fluttered closed as you brushed your thumb gently across his cheek.

“Just eat.” you urged, smiling despite yourself.

He opened his mouth, accepting the offering with a small nod. You fed him slowly, each spoonful a small victory, a reminder of the strength that still lingered beneath the surface.

As the night stretched on, you stayed by his side, your touch a constant reassurance. You replaced the cool cloth on his forehead regularly, whispering soft words of comfort into the quiet room. The fever seemed to tighten its grip on him, but you remained his anchor, your presence a soothing balm against the waves of discomfort that washed over him.

Marcus murmured softly, incoherent words that you recognized as little complaints about how awful he felt. He clung to you, seeking solace in your embrace, his body curling against yours in search of comfort.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, drawing soothing circles in to his skin as he eased into your touch. “I’ve got you.”

Eventually, his murmurs faded, his body finally relaxing as sleep claimed him once more. He usually always wanted to look after you, your rock in moments of vulnerability. But tonight, the roles showed you both how important balance was, and it felt so right to care for him, to be his strength when he needed it.

As you watched his peaceful face in the dim light, your own eyes grew heavy. Wrapped around each other, you both drifted off, the soft rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a deep, contented sleep.

The next morning, Marcus looked marginally better, but his attempt to act normal was painfully transparent. The first thing you noticed was the faint rustling of the sheets as he tried to move quietly, the sound subtle but enough to stir you from a light sleep. His movements were sluggish, deliberate, as if each motion required immense effort. He shuffled around the room, pausing intermittently to cough into his elbow, the rasping sound echoing faintly in the otherwise silent morning.

You kept your eyes closed, feigning sleep, but your mind was alert, tracking every labored breath, every pause that punctuated his weak attempts to go about his day as though nothing was wrong. His stubbornness was endearing, infuriating, and deeply worrying all at once.

“Morning, love,” Marcus said softly, his voice rough around the edges, straining to sound chipper. He leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. “Go back to sleep. You were up all night taking care of me.”

The corners of your lips twitched in a half-smile as you groaned softly, your arms reaching up to loop around his neck. The warmth of his skin against your fingertips was feverish. “Morning,” you murmured, nuzzling into him, half-asleep. “Stay in bed,” you commanded gently, your voice still thick with sleep. “No training, no meetings—just rest. You need to stay inside all day, or you’ll get worse.”

Marcus’s lips curved into a small, rueful smile, one that you missed as you drifted back to sleep. He knew he should listen, that his body craved the rest you were insisting on, but his mind rebelled against the thought of missing practice. The team needed him, or at least that’s what he convinced himself.

With practiced ease, Marcus waited for your breathing to even out, signaling that sleep had reclaimed you. Carefully, he pried your arms away from his neck, each movement slow and gentle to avoid waking you. His body protested with every step, sluggish and heavy, but he ignored the mounting fatigue and the dull throb of his headache.

The footballer moved toward the wardrobe with a deliberate sluggishness, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for his gear. Dressing was a herculean effort; each piece of clothing felt heavier than it should, as if his body was reminding him with every motion that it needed to rest. His limbs felt encased in lead, the fever making his usually agile movements cumbersome and slow.

As he fastened his jacket, Marcus took a moment to steady himself, leaning against the edge of the dresser. The room swayed slightly, a dizzy spell washing over him, but he shook it off with a determined breath. He couldn’t afford to give in. Not yet.

With a sigh, Marcus grabbed a pen and a small piece of paper, his hand unsteady as he wrote a quick note: ‘At practice, will be home soon. I love you.’ The letters wavered slightly, but the message was clear and heartfelt. He carried the note to the kitchen and placed it on the fridge, securing it with a magnet in a spot he knew you'd see first.

Before heading out, Marcus paused at the bottom of the stairs, glancing up toward the bedroom. The thought of you resting so peacefully tugged at his heart, filling him with both tenderness and a tinge of guilt for leaving knowing it would upset you.

He lingered for a moment, taking in the stillness of the house, before turning away quietly. As he slipped out the door, he knew the inevitable lecture awaited him when he returned—one filled with worry, love, and your unwavering need to protect him, even from himself.

Hours slipped by unnoticed, the quiet of the room thickening around you. It wasn’t until the faint chill of the sheets brushed your fingers that something felt off.

You sat up, the sheets tangled around you, your mind still heavy with the haze of sleep. Something was wrong. It took a moment to register, but then it hit you like a slap—his side of the bed was empty. Completely empty. You reached out instinctively, your hand hovered for a moment, as if the touch could pull him back, but the bed lay still, untouched by his weight.

What the hell?

Your heart started pounding, the panic rising in your chest. No way he went off to the pitch. He was dreadfully ill a couple hours ago—trembling, barely able to breathe, his body a wreck of shivers. There was no way he’d just gotten up and left.

You shot out of bed, your pulse quickening with each passing second.

Please no, please no.

You called his name, a desperate plea hanging in the air, hoping you were wrong—hoping he hadn’t dragged himself to training. Maybe, just maybe, he was downstairs, sipping on some water, looking for more medicine. Anything but leaving. The thought of him pushing his body further when he could barely stand the night before, made your stomach twist.

You stormed out of the room, frustration boiling over. This man is going to be the death of me ran through your head. You wanted to scream, grab him, shake him, force him to stay still, to let himself heal.

But above all, all you wanted was for him to be okay.

Your gaze shifted toward the kitchen, and there it was—the note, stark against the fridge door. You moved toward it, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, but the words only made you groan in frustration. A mix of exasperation and worry curled in your stomach, the sharp contrast pulling you fully awake.

But Marcus was going to be home much sooner than you expected.

The minutes dragged on, each one heavier than the last, when suddenly the sharp ring of your phone sliced through the silence. Your heart skipped a beat as the screen flashed with the name of someone from Manchester United’s medical staff. A wave of dread crept up your spine as you swiped to answer, already bracing for what you feared might be coming.

"Hello?" you answered, forcing your voice to sound steady, though it trembled at the edges.

"Hello, it’s Dr. Harris." the doctor’s calm voice came through, but it did nothing to ease the growing tightness in your chest. "Unfortunately, Marcus showed up to practice looking worse for wear. He could barely manage any of the drills before we decided to pull him. His fever's so high, he’s having trouble staying upright."

Your heart dropped, the worry you’d been suppressing all morning suddenly rushing to the surface. "Can you come pick him up since you’re his emergency contact?" Dr. Harris asked, his tone now laced with urgency.

Before you could respond, you heard the faint shuffle of someone else on the line, and then a new voice—someone from the medical staff—spoke up. "We’ve got him in the recovery room. He’s stable, but he’s worse for wear. Just get here as soon as you can."

You felt the blood drain from your face, a cruel panic gripping you as the pieces fell together. "I’ll be there soon." you said, already moving, your hands shaking as you grabbed your keys. You were furious with Marcus for ignoring everything you’d told him, but that fury felt distant now, overshadowed by the immediate need to reach him, to make sure he was okay.

You rushed to slip on your shoes, the cold air stinging your cheeks as you hurried out the door. The car seemed to drive itself as you tore through the streets, your mind a whirlwind of dread.

Arriving at the training ground, you rushed toward the medical wing, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and urgency. The sterile scent of antiseptic hit you as you entered, a stark contrast to the usual lively atmosphere of the place. The sight of Marcus slumped in a chair, his normally vibrant skin pale and waxy, sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over you.

He looked up as you approached, his eyes glassy but softening with relief when they met yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmured weakly, his voice barely more than a whisper, the edges frayed with fatigue.

You shook your head, crouching down beside him, your hands instinctively finding his face. He was warm, too warm, the fever still clinging to him. “Marcus…” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “Let’s get you home.”

The ride back started off quiet—mostly because he looked too embarrassed to talk. The footballer sat slumped in the passenger seat, his head resting against the window, the chill of the glass doing little to alleviate the heat radiating from his skin. The silence, however, didn’t last long. You couldn’t help but give him an earful, your concern translating into frustration.

"Do you have any idea how reckless that was?" You gripped the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles going white. "You could've spread whatever you’ve got to the whole team—and made someone else sick in the process."

"I didn't want to let the team down," he muttered, his voice thick with congestion, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

"Marcus!" you shot back, the frustration clear in your tone, "Your teammates will be just fine without you in a training session. What they need is for you to get healthy, not to push yourself and risk being out even longer."

He sighed heavily, the sound thick with exhaustion. He didn't argue, though. You glanced at him, irritation starting to fade as you took in how miserable he looked. His eyes struggled to stay open, fluttering weakly.

"You’re going straight to bed when we get home," you said firmly, not giving him room for debate.

He nodded, a small, exhausted tilt of his head, but it was clear even that simple gesture took all his energy.

Back home, Marcus was worse than ever. His legs wobbled beneath him as you guided him inside, each step a monumental effort. By the time you helped him settle onto the cushions of your shared room, he was leaning heavily against you, his body surrendering to the fever’s relentless grip.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. The touch was tender, meant to soothe, but your words carried the weight of your concern.

He gave you a sheepish smile, one that barely lifted the corners of his lips. “Guess I am,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, each word labored.

You spent the rest of the day doting on him, a steady rhythm of care and devotion. The house was quiet, the only sounds were those of you moving around, fluffing pillows, and coaxing him to drink tea. Every time you pressed a cool cloth to his forehead, he sighed in relief, his eyes fluttering shut, momentarily free from the fever’s relentless assault.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you,” he mumbled at one point, his voice thick with gratitude, his words slurred with exhaustion.

“You’d probably be in worse shape.” you teased lightly, earning a quiet chuckle that rumbled from deep within his chest.

As evening rolled around, Marcus was still exhausted but slightly more alert. He shifted on the couch, his tired eyes following you as you moved around the living room, unable to tear his gaze away. Despite his weariness, you adored him, his love for you shining through the haze of his sickness.

“Come here,” he mumbled, holding out his hand toward you, a small, inviting smile gracing his lips. You sat beside him, and he immediately rested his head on your shoulder, his body relaxing against yours.

“Feeling better?” you asked toying with one of his curls.

“A little bit,” he admitted, though his pout told a different story, the downturn of his lips almost childlike in its sincerity. “But you haven’t kissed me all day.”

You laughed softly, the sound gentle and filled with affection. “Marcus, you’re sick.”

“So?” he grumbled, his pout deepening, his eyes glimmering with a mix of frustration and longing.

You sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple, the warmth of his skin brushing against your lips. “There. Happy?”

He groaned dramatically, a sound that was both adorable and pitiful. “That’s not a real kiss,” he complained, leaning in, his eyes locking onto yours with a soft plea. “Why can’t you kiss me on the lips?”

“Because, I’m not trying to catch whatever you’ve got,” you said, pulling away with a teasing smile, your laughter bubbling up despite the situation. “You’ll get all the kisses you want when you’re better.”

He huffed dramatically, the sound exasperated, his pout becoming more pronounced. “You’ve been close to me all day, so it shouldn’t matter,” he argued, though the energy behind his words was more of a soft plea than a genuine complaint.

You responded with a light smile, brushing your thumb across his cheek, your touch gentle and reassuring. “Nice try, but I’m still not risking it.”

Marcus pouted more, his expression a blend of charm and exasperation, the sight tugging at your heart even as you tried to remain firm. “Fine, kisses when I’m better,” he muttered, snuggling closer to you, his body fitting against yours as though he belonged there. “But I’m holding you to that.”

As the sun deepened, you remained by his side, your presence a constant source of comfort for him. His breathing evened out, the fever beginning to loosen its grip, and as the minutes ticked by, you felt him relax further, his body melting into yours as sleep claimed him once more.

The house was quiet, the soft hum of the heater filling the silence. You sat with Marcus in your arms, his head resting against your shoulder, his body warm and heavy with sleep. The weight of his trust and the depth of his love wrapped around you, anchoring you in the moment.

You watched over him, your heart swelling with a profound sense of peace. He was safe, and you were together—that was all that mattered.

37 notes · View notes

tieronecrush · 2 years ago

Text

hot & heavy

chapter fourteen: stuck forever by the glue

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 7.4k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), feeling familial and self-pressure, established relationship, spanish cause joel is latino, soft joel, very minimal like sweetie possessive joel, struggling with self, discussion of parenting, this is honestly just an ooey gooey syrupy sweet chapter y'all

a/n: this is so wild. it's done! (basically....epilogue to come) i seriously can't express how much it means to me that y'all read and kept up with and cared about my little story. i have fallen in love with writing and i just really thank you all for everything you've given me! i feel so lucky to have so many incredible, talented, all-star humans reading something silly i've made. THANK YOU.

and an extra special thanks to el @northernbluess who has been such a big support throughout my process of writing this story. she's beta-read nearly every single chapter and has helped me so much in developing the characters and the story and just everything. can't write without you, el. love you!

alright, enough from me - enjoy joel & mariposa's ending! and please drop any thoughts or scenarios or milestones you want to see for them in the epilogue into my inbox!!!

“Fuck, oh shit, Joel!”

You’re whisper-yelling as you scramble to throw his comforter off of you, kicking it away from your feet and jumping out of bed. One arm moves up to cover your chest as you whirl around the room looking for your clothes. As you slip your panties up your legs and let them snap against your hips, Joel stirs awake enough to pick his head up, glancing around in a daze.

“What is happening? What’s wrong?” he groggily asks, turning over from lying on his tummy to his back, arm bending to rest against his forehead and shielding his eyes from the early summer morning light peeking through the curtains.

Puffing out a breath to blow the hair from your face, hands occupied with attempting to clasp your bra behind your back, you shoot him a look.

“Check the time,” you order flatly, nodding your chin to his alarm clock at the bedside.

After a delayed beat, Joel’s head turns, studying the display before his bed shoots back to look at you, arm dropped from his head. With his eyebrows raised and mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape, he chuckles quietly at your distress.

Amid your activities from the night before, much like the last week of nights spent with Joel, the alarm on his side had forgotten to be set. Normally, you would brush it off, so long as the two of you were up in time for work, which Sarah usually made sure of thanks to her promptness, even as a ten-year-old.

But today, no, today was a weekend and also the day of the neighborhood’s annual block party and summer barbecue. And you had promised — assured — your mother that you would be up and at ‘em early to help her prep all the food she promised to make and to help decorate the street and all the tables.

Joel had promised — assured — that he set the alarm last night before the two of you started fooling around, distraction imminent for the man with his wandering hands and blood pumping. Turns out, you were apparently too tempting, and too exhausting, of a time to focus on anything else.

“Darlin’, it’ll be fine. Doubt your mom has even noticed your absence, she’s probably so busy already she’s just fluttering around your house.” Joel’s face returns to a drowsy expression, one eyebrow quirking up for a moment as you angrily groan at your t-shirt when struggling to find the head hole with it pulled over your head all lopsided.

He rises from the bed, padding over to you and reaching up to pause your frantic hands. Slow moving, he rights the material and gently tugs it down, revealing your frustrating and pouty look.

Joel coaxes your arms out of their stubborn crossed position over your chest, aiding them into the holes and fully pulling the t-shirt down. Fingers graze the top of your panties from underneath your cotton shirt, satisfied smirk when he feels goosebumps rise.

“She may not notice, but my Dad, who’s probably doing nothing, will notice and tell my mom. And she’ll tell him to go downstairs and check on me.” You swat his hands away gently, stepping backward and turning your head this way and that way to find your shorts. “And if he goes downstairs, and I’m not there, but then magically appear minutes later from my studio, well, I think they’ll clock that something’s up.”

Thick arms wrap around your waist, freezing you in place. One hand gently grips the tip of your chin between his index and thumb, tilting your head to look into his eyes.

“It’ll be fine, Mari baby. You’ll get home and you’ll go upstairs and they won’t even know you were gone for a second.” Joel punctuates his reassurances with a kiss, rubbing slow circles in your lower back.

“You are extremely calm in this situation. Why aren’t you more stressed out than me?” you interrogate, raising one brow and pursing your lips. He chuckles and shrugs, incredibly nonchalant, before pecking your lips once more.

“S’cause I woke up with you next to me.” The grin is evident in his next kiss, pulling one from you no matter how much you fight it. “Plus, had some pretty great sex last night.”

“Oh my god, okay, I’m leaving. Such an idiot—” you smack his arm playfully and untangle from his arms, “ruining a perfectly sweet, wholesome moment.”

“Didn’t ruin anything. Y’know you were thinkin’ the same thing,” he counters as he throws on boxers, following you out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

You glance over your shoulder, shooting him an eye roll while biting back a smile. Padding quickly into the kitchen, you slip your shoes on from where they sit next to the back door, turning toward Joel in a rush as he strides over to you. Still sleepy eyes take you in, grabby hands finding your waist and pulling you in tight to his chest while you groan.

“J, baby, I gotta go.” He buries his head in your neck, shaking it enough for his messy curls to brush against your skin in a tickle. “I’ll see you later, okay? We jus’ have to make it through the party, and then I’m all yours. Deal?”

Lifting his head with an elongated sigh, he nods subtly and sneaks a quick kiss, “Deal. But I kind of don’t want to share you with the whole neighborhood tonight. Wish it was jus’ you and me.”

“Me too, baby, but we’ll survive. We’ve made it this long, haven’t we?” Fingers glide through his hair, pushing it up off his forehead. Before you step back and reach for the door, he pulls you in again, one hand finding your jaw to hold you there as he gives you a slow, syrupy, toe-curling kiss. The linger of it tickles your lips when he pulls away, a drowsy, beaming smile filling his face.

“Love you, Mari baby. See you later.”

“Love you more, J. See y’all later.” One last effort breaks you free of him, slipping out the door with him still on your tail, large palm making contact with your ass in a smack. A look back at him gives you a wink and smirk in return, Joel’s wide frame filling the threshold as you descend his deck stairs and scurry across your lawn to make it home in time.

God, you’re too old to be sneaking around with your boyfriend.

But damn, if he doesn’t make it fun.

Late afternoon, when the sticky, humid air has cooled down only fractions from the peak of the day, the whole onslaught of the neighborhood gathers on your cul-de-sac. Lawn games litter front yards of everyone around, the food tables set up between your driveway and Joel’s. Two grills are lit and manned on the asphalt in front of your garage, barely enough space to cook all the food that could feed an entire army, plus all of your neighbors.

The skirt of your baby blue sundress swishes against your thighs as you flutter around the folding tables set out to frame the street. Borrowed, mismatched tablecloths have been blanketed over the surfaces, and it’s been your latest task to arrange simple centerpieces of wildflowers from your garden beds built by Joel, and vases pulled from the backs of cabinets in your house. With every inch of your movement, your eyes flicker to track Joel’s, licking your lips as you watch the fabric of his muted blue t-shirt pull and strain across his shoulder blades. The hair at the back of his neck curled more from the perspiration that he was building while carrying coolers full of ice, beer, sodas, and water all about the street.

While putting the finishing touches on the last centerpiece, it seems that when you look up again, the whole neighborhood has shown up all at once. Joel’s gone from your line of sight, and you resign to finding the nearest cold beer and being pulled into a conversation with Mrs. Clarke and some of her book club ladies from the street over that you don’t know as well. They fuss over you, admiring your dress and your hair, and commenting repeatedly about ‘how gorgeous and youthful’ you are. As you open your mouth to accept the compliments again with a polite ‘thank you’, a familiar voice cuts in from over your shoulder.

“Excuse me, ladies, I hate to interrupt y’all but I was hoping to steal her away for a bit. Kind of need a partner for some cornhole and we’ve got a winning streak to maintain.” Joel shoots all of the older women a charming grin when you turn to your side to see him, his eyes finding yours for a split second.

“Oh, god, another one of you youngin’ neighbors! I have been loving to see so many new folks move in and all you kids that have returned. It is so lovely,” Mrs. Clarke shares, nodding her head with a mischievous grin toward Joel, “Y’know, y’all are pretty handsome together. Maybe it’s just 'cause y’all are young and beautiful still!”

Mrs. Clarke and the other women laugh, a wide smile on your face as you shake your head, “C’mon, Mrs. Clarke, you’re beautiful — Joel’s actually been tellin’ me he’s got a crush on a neighbor, my bets are on you.”

She laughs again, waving off the compliments, “Well I wouldn’t go gambling if that’s how you bet, sugar. I think you’d be at the top of all the lists if you ask everyone here; you’ve been the talk of the neighborhood since you came back from that big ol’ city you were in. Everybody’s been saying how you are still such a sweet girl, but I can tell something’s different. In a good way.”

She shoots you a wink and you soak in the sentiments, looking over to Joel when he cuts in again.

“I think I’d agree with ya, ma’am. Definitely different in a good way. Like whiskey in a teacup.” The look in his eyes is filled with the silent affection that his words coil around, saying all that he can’t say at the moment. Instead, he wraps up the conversation for you, thanking the four women before letting you step ahead of him, his hand barely ghosting over your back in what would look to be an innocent gesture.

“Now did you really want to play bags or was that just an excuse?” you tease, taking a sip of your drink while you two wander over to the game set up in the grass.

Joel shrugs, smile toying at his lips, “Had to be able to find a way to sweet talk my crush now, didn’t I?”

A roll of your eyes and growing smirk encourages him, nudging your side with his elbow, “Y’think Mrs. Clarke is gonna go around gossipin’ about us when the whole neighborhood finds out I’ve got a crush on you and not her?”

“Oh definitely. Lived here my whole life, that woman knows everybody’s business before they know it themselves. Don’t be surprised if she’s told everybody you’re in love with me by the time this evening’s wrappin’ up.” Squatting down, Joel gathers up the bean bags from the surface of the handbuilt gameboards, handing you the green while he takes the yellow.

As he deposits them one by one in your open palm, he shoots you a genuine, shy smile. “Well, wouldn’t be a lie so I guess it would jus’ help me out. Maybe we should tell Mrs. Clarke and then everybody will know tonight.”

“Haha. Very funny, Miller,” you reply dryly, shooting him a playfully annoyed look before starting the game between the two of you.

The back-and-forth flows easily for the two of you, both in gameplay and banter. At the game-point throw, you sink it in the hole, cheering for yourself when you nail the score of exactly twenty-one. Joel tosses his own, flicking his wrist only slightly at the last moment to scratch the throw, leaving you victorious. He smiles to himself as he watches you eagerly clap for yourself, turning to him and nodding toward the spread of food that was finally laid out.

You’re so beautiful.

The look you’re giving him sends a jolt into his spine, fuzzing his brain while the butterfly in his chest rapidly pumps its wings.

“C’mon, let's eat. All that losin’ probably worked up an appetite for you.” Without clasping around his, your hand brushes your fingers against the back of his palm. The softness leaves an itch on his skin, his nerves simply jumping for the chance to touch you. You lead confidently while he trails behind in your wake, observing as everyone sends you a smile or a greeting that you return right back with a glow.

He’d follow you anywhere.

And he knows how damn lucky he is that you’re willing to let him.

It’s what he can’t help but continue to think about as the night rolls on, watching you from his place at a table with a handful of the guys from the neighborhood, including your dad and brother, and Tommy, who stopped over after his own plans for the evening went belly up. While he nurses the beer from the glass bottle in his hand, you are bouncing with a baby on your hip to the beat of the song playing over the speakers. It’s the kid you nanny, having taken her from her parents to let them eat and enjoy a moment of calmness with everyone while you keep the young one entertained.

The happy baby babbles in your arms as you dance with her subtly, standing in a small group of other neighbors. It’s so natural for you, the way you’re nurturing and easily adapting to having a little human attached to your side. He can’t shake the way his body is begging him to get up and go over to you, wanting to help you, to play pretend for a moment that it’s an addition to your little family in your arms.

He nearly stumbles over himself to get out of his seat when Sarah pulls you away from the group, thanking his daughter inside his head for giving him the perfect excuse to be close to you in the moment. Tommy chuckles to himself when he follows where Joel’s gaze is aimed, shaking his head subtly at his older brother’s obvious stare.

Joel doesn’t pay him any mind as he walks over toward you and Sarah, brushing against your side as he folds forward at his waist to press a kiss to the top of his daughter’s curly hair. The baby is babbling again in your arms, wiggling and mouthing on her hand while she stares at Joel. He shoots her a smile, opening and closing his fingers in a loose fist to wave.

“Hey there, little one. Now who’s this?” he asks, eyes finding your face while you grin at the happy baby girl in your arms.

“This is Amelia. She’s Brian and Steph’s daughter, the one I’ve been nannying this summer since Steph’s gone back to work,” you adjust her again and Joel nods, reaching out absentmindedly to lay a hand on Sarah’s head.

“Isn’t she so cute, Daddy?” Sarah laughs quietly when Amelia squeals excitedly. Her hand tugs on Joel’s shirt to grab his attention back from staring at you, eyebrows raised, and the same look on her face that she gets when she desperately wants a toy from the store. “I want to get a baby!”

He nearly chokes on his breath when he rushes to respond, hearing your quiet giggle as he coughs before clearing his throat. Addressing Sarah, he gives her an understanding smile, “Babies are pretty cute, aren’t they? But you’ll need to be much, much older until you can get a baby, mija. Like you’ll need to be Posey’s age or even better, you can be Daddy’s age and get a baby for yourself, alright?”

“That’s not very fun. You’re old, I don’t wanna wait that long. It’s like an eternity,” she replies bluntly, causing you to laugh and Joel to shoot you a warning look before he returns to Sarah.

“Trust me, Bug, it’s not that long in the grand scheme of things. Before I know it, you’ll be out of my house and I’ll be even more ancient, apparently, and you’ll have your own babies. All in due time, mija. Don’t wish away your life.” He pats her curls while she stands, thought clearly turning in her head.

A lightbulb goes off and she gasps, clapping her hands together as she says only to the two of you, “I know! You can get another baby, Daddy, and then I’ll have a cute one to play with. You can get one with Posey.”

Sarah beams with what seems like a completely genius idea to her, waiting for a response or a plan of action to get this all set in motion for her. You laugh again, stepping in when Joel can’t seem to find the right words to say.

He doesn’t want to outwardly deny it. Definitely doesn’t want you to think that is something he wouldn’t want. He’s told you as much.

But he also doesn’t want to step in any hot water, doesn’t want to put his foot in his mouth if it really is something you haven’t thought about much.

“That is such a smart idea, Sare-Bear,” you grin comfortingly and reach out a free hand to brush her hair back, “Y’know who else you could ask to have a baby? Uncle Tommy. Why don’t you go ask him why he doesn’t have a girlfriend so that he can give you a cousin?”

Sarah giggles and matches your mischievous energy, scampering off to go wholesomely harass her uncle. You turn to Joel, your face twisting into curiosity when you can’t read the look on his face.

“What? Should I have explained where babies come from to her or something instead? Was it a bad idea to sick her on Tommy?”

“No, not at all. To answer both your questions,” he bites back from absolutely beaming, turning his gaze to baby Amelia’s chubby cheeks when his voice drops to a level only audible to you standing inches from him, “Would you?”

“Would I what?” Your head tilts to the side, adjusting Amelia on your hip and hiking her up. Joel opens his mouth to clarify his question when Steph sidles up next to you, thanking you profusely while she takes her daughter back into her arms. The interaction warms Joel’s blood in his veins, the wings of the butterfly pushing the rattle of nerves into his throat.

Everyone loves you so much here, and you really do have love for everyone.

A fucking solid gold heart inside of you and Joel can’t believe you’ve given even a piece, a sliver, of it to him to safeguard.

Turning your attention back to him when the two of you are left alone, you lift the corner of your lip up in an anxious comfort, “So, would I what?”

“Would you have a kid? With me. Would you have a kid with me?” It all rushes out, words blending together but you understand all the same. A quiet laugh rolls from your chest, skyrocketing his worry in the moment before you shake your head and give his bicep a quick, but reassuring squeeze.

“Course I would, J. Don’t think anything would make me happier.” Your eyes sparkle in the setting sunlight, the solid and steady beat of his heart surely heard over the music and noise by everyone around you both. Pressing his lips together to restrain himself, he nods slowly and attempts to remain casual.

“I wanna kiss you so fucking much right now, Mari.”

“I want that, too. But I think Mrs. Clarke would be jealous. Stealin’ you away from her.” The joke breaks the tension, sending him into a small fit of laughter, shaking his head at your ridiculousness.

“Guess I better go ask Mrs. Clarke the same question then, huh? Keep my options open.”

“Better go. Give her enough time to tell Mr. Clarke she’s running away with the neighbor forty years younger than her.”

“Definitely think that’d go over better than you, the beloved, sweet neighborhood girl, running away with me.”

“Oh hush, doesn’t matter how well it’d go over. Jus’ matters if we can run fast enough away from the angry mob that’s gonna come after ya.” You wink and laugh again, your head shaking back and forth before it whips in the direction of your mom calling your name. Another soft and subtle touch is fleetingly felt against his skin, turning over your shoulder to mouth a quick ‘love you’ to him as you walk away.

He returns it before searching around to fill his hands before returning back to the table and sitting down next to his brother. Joel sets the full beer bottle next to his half-full one, eyes still trained on you before Tommy grabs his attention with a hard jab to his side and snags the full beer.

“So why the hell is my niece asking me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend so I can have a baby?”

Night has overtaken the sky, with sprinklings of stars and a waxing moon as its centerpieces. Everyone along the road has turned on their porch lights, extra portable camping lights, and hanging lanterns brought out to make enough light to continue the party. The handful of neighborhood kids run around to catch fireflies while the adults either stand around in conversations or gather in the open space between all of the tables to dance. Your parents, ever the hosts that they are, have popped back into the house to gather more drinks and desserts for everyone. Wrapped up in a chat about a potential hire for a job with a guy from a few streets over, Joel hasn’t paid mind to where you’re at or if Sarah’s running along with the other kids. He shakes the man’s hand and promises to stop by when he can during the week to check out exactly what the job would entail and if his guys can get it done.

Turning away, the sight of you is perfectly framed by warm lights, a tunnel of everything else fading away while he observes you from across the street. The mop of curls he loves dearly bounces around with you, your hands holding Sarah’s and spinning her around the dancefloor. His daughter’s laughter hits his ears over the sound of the music, tugging a smile onto his face that nearly matches your beaming grin.

This whole night, he hasn’t been able to stay away from you long. And he hasn’t been able to shake the feeling of how desperate he is to stay in your pull, to be able to make you smile and laugh, to make you happy.

You do so much for others, offering a hand or making them smile with your genuine care and humor. Everyone is so drawn to you, he’s not the only one who wants to have you around. And he knows about what you’re going through behind closed doors, the things you tell him about when no one else will listen or understand. The same things he heard from you when you were thousands of miles away, voice crackling over the phone. All he wants to do is to be there for you, to show you the same kindness that you show him, that you show everyone you encounter.

Ever since he met you, he’s never wanted to be apart from you. But he didn’t trust himself not to make selfish decisions, so he pushed you away that first summer, and let you go the second. Now, with no endings in sight at the end of summer, anything is possible.

One thing’s for sure though — he’s tired of hiding.

All it does is take up more energy that he could be giving to you, to Sarah, to a better future for all of you.

And fuck’s sake, if he doesn’t want everyone to know that you chose him. The best person he knows — has ever known — chose him and continues to choose him, to forgive him, to love him. He doesn’t know what the future holds, doesn’t know what everything will look like for y’all in a week, in a year, in a decade, but all he can say is that whatever it all entails, however much it scares him, he wants you there by his side. He needs you.

Without a second thought, he moves toward you as the song changes, depositing his nearly empty drink on the nearest table. Swiping his clammy hands on his jeans as he walks, he takes a deep breath before he taps you on the shoulder. He shoots Sarah a wink over your shoulder while you turn around, her giggle bringing a lopsided grin to his face.

“Oh, Joel, what’s up?” you ask casually, cocking an eyebrow up in confusion.

He addresses Sarah in the next moment, putting on a formal tone and clearing his throat, “Excuse me, Miss Sarah, but would you mind if I steal Mariposa away for a dance?”

“Of course not, Daddy!” she grins widely, showing off her missing tooth that came out a few nights ago, “Have fun, Posey!”

Sarah scurries off to find her friends from the neighborhood, and Joel holds his hand out with a soft smirk. Utterly puzzled, you glance around before focusing back on Joel at the sound of his voice.

“May I have this dance, Mari?”

You’re surprised, stumbling out a response as you tentatively place your hand in his, “Yes, I mean — yes, but — What are you doing, J?”

With your hand in his, he leads you further into the couples dancing along to the sweetly slow love song playing. In the middle, he stops and faces you, keeping your hand in his, holding them up close with a bent elbow while his other finds your waist and pulls you in closer. The two of you start to sway and Joel’s lips settle next to your ear while you dance.

“Joel, everyone’s staring…and talking amongst themselves. What are you doing?” you ask in a hushed voice, pulling away to look into his eyes. Anxiety flashes in yours and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before replying.

“M’letting go, mi amor. Let ‘em stare,” he replies, the corners of his lips rising in a tender grin. He slips his hand from yours, fingers trailing down your arm to bring it to rest on his shoulder like your other one. Both of his hands spread across your hips, pressing into the fabric of your dress and pushing around to settle at your lower back.

“But they’re gonna start spreading shit and I know you weren’t ready before to tell anyone else — my parents might be around, J. I don’t want you to do this if you aren’t ready, or if you’re just doing this for me.”

He leans closer, tilting his head down to lay his forehead against yours. Holding your eyes, he speaks quietly, voice rasping with the strain of the volume and the emotion coating his words, “El amor es ciego, pero los vecinos no. (Love is blind, but the neighbors aren’t.) There’s always going to be people to gossip, or to whisper about us. All that matters to me is what you think, and how you feel. I want to be able to tell everyone that you’re mine, and I’m yours. I’m so lucky, and I am so proud to be your partner in life, Mari baby. M’tired of trying to predict what the future’s gonna be for us, and m’tired of trying to keep the reality of life away from us. Truth is, I don’t think there’s anything that life could throw at me or you that we couldn’t get through together. I need you there, always, sweet girl. Todo va a salir bien. Everything will work out.”

“I-God, I don’t even know what to say…” Tears well at your waterline, none daring to fall over the edge while you attempt to remain composed for the crowd that is surely watching everything happening. “All I can think about is how much I love you, Joel. And I want all of the same things, and I know that with you, we can handle whatever life has planned for us.”

“I love you too, baby. Te amo siempre, mi Mariposa. (I love you always, my Mariposa).”

The song’s last few notes fade out, some of the couples filtering out of the dance floor when the music changes over. After another short peck from Joel, the bubble the two of you were in dissolves when Sarah runs up, asking Joel if she can have another cookie. He gives her the quick go-ahead, watching her rush off as quickly as she came, and suddenly you’re reminded you’re in the middle of the whole neighborhood.

No one says anything as you lead Joel away, hand-in-hand. But a few looks are exchanged and the eyes of everyone feel hot on your neck. A glance around proves your parents aren’t outside still, and your stomach flips with the real possibility that someone, particularly nosey neighbors, may have beaten you to the punch in terms of telling them about you and Joel.

Tugging him from a good few steps ahead, Joel widens his strides to catch up easily as you beeline toward your garage, the mechanical door wide open for people to come and go as needed. You stop in your tracks right in front of the door to the inside, taking a deep breath before turning around to face Joel.

“Alright, it’s now or never, J. Either we’re the ones to tell our parents, or they find out from Mrs. Clarke’s book club that we were on the dancefloor and kissin’ each other and—”

Joel interrupts your ramblings with a gentle chuckle, tilting his head to the side as he looks over your face before locking his eyes with yours.

“So are we the ones meant to be saying we were on the dancefloor and kissin’ each other?” he asks with a smirk, one eyebrow raising in question.

“Oh, c’mon, Joel.”

“M’kiddin’, Mari. It’s now or never, and I am not a man that says never. So lead the way, sweet girl.” He gestures to the door behind you, a genuine smile on his face quelling your heightened nerves.

If you could read his mind, you know he’s freaking out right now.

But no, instead he’s keeping it cool on the outside, trying to be a calming presence for your own anxious thoughts.

Can’t help but ask himself questions. What if your parents get upset or angry? What if they dismiss it, not believing that it would ever work between the two of them? What if they take it out on you? It’s not your fault that they didn’t find out earlier — would they hate him if he defends you in an argument? What if they don’t think he is good enough for you?

He has his own doubts, but hearing it from your parents would crush him.

You walk ahead of him, holding onto his hand while you walk inside and through your empty living room. He drops his hand from yours right on the threshold of your kitchen and gives you a tight smile when you look back at him. Wiping his clammy hands on his jeans, he takes a deep breath before following you into the room.

Clearing your throat to grab your parents' attention, you saddle up to the island and lean forward with your elbows on the cool countertops. Joel stands next to you, a respectable distance away but you feel the itch to bring him closer. Your dad turns around first, pausing his task of filling a cooler with ice from the freezer.

“Hey there, kiddo. Oh, and heya, Miller! Y’all havin’ a good time tonight? Need anything?”

“Or are y’all bein’ sweethearts and have come inside to help us with all this?” Your mom nods over her shoulder to the rest of the desserts plated across the counters.

She turns around next after washing her hands at the kitchen sink, patting them dry with a towel before she crosses the small walkway to settle on the other side of the island. Joel shakes his head when you’re silent for a moment, giving both of your parents a smile.

“No, don’t need anything. And I would be happy to help, ma’am—” Joel ever so politely offers before you interrupt him.

“I, uh, I actually wanted to talk to y’all about something.” Your voice wavers only slightly, a stuttering sound coming from your throat as you clear it again. One of your mom’s eyebrows raises in curiosity, much more sprawling thoughts happening in the subtle twitches of her eyes as she looks at your face, then at Joel’s, and back to you.

Your dad is a bit oblivious.

“Joel and I will leave ya to it, y’all can fill me in later,” he faces Joel, nodding toward the direction of the door and closing the top of the cooler he packed full of ice a minute ago. Joel opens his mouth to respond when you fill in again quickly, holding a hand up to stop your dad’s movements.

“No, um, actually, it’s better if you’re both here and Joel’s here ‘cause, well…” A flip of your stomach nearly sends your dinner back up, but you swallow it down and lock your eyes on your hands as you finally spill the secret you’ve kept for the last three summers.

“Joel and I are together. Like in a relationship. A serious one.” You kept adding clarifications to fill the silence that’s fallen over the room, and Joel steps closer, reaching a hand up to rest on your back between your shoulder blades. He braces for ridicule, eyes trained on you as you keep yours on your hands.

Nothing. Your parents are saying nothing.

And you cannot take the silence anymore, so you begin to recount it all from the first summer, meeting him and getting to know him — sparing the details of the two of you…getting together. The short month-long second summer, Joel holding out his hope for you to stay but eventually letting you go. The year between that time and the beginning of this summer, infrequent phone calls and life updates. And finally, this summer, when you came back with no end in sight and nothing holding the two of you back. Given the chance to finally give it a proper go, and falling even more in love with him than you thought you could love anyone.

Your eyes flick to Joel’s as you confess that, and he returns the sentiment with a warm smile and his hand rubbing slow circles against the bare skin of your back exposed by your thinly-strapped dress.

God, you really do love him.

So much so, it occurs to you that it doesn’t really matter what comes after this. You choose him, and he’s chosen you, and your family would have to accept it. You’ve spent too much time without him in your life, completely, and there isn’t going to be another summer ending in heartbreak.

At the end of your three-summer abridged summary, Joel turns toward your parents, speaking up for himself. “I just—I want to tell you both that I care very much about your daughter. I love her dearly, and my life’s gotten astronomically better since she stepped into it. Mine and Sarah’s. You’ve raised an incredible woman, someone who is kind but never lets anyone push her around. A complete force.” Joel turns back to you, a growing, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I can only hope that Sarah gets the same fierceness and is as self-willed as you. I’ve said it before, but you’ve got a golden heart. You’re magic.”

The four of you talk it through, fielding their questions and small concerns as best as you can to reassure them. They share a look before your mom speaks, taking a deep breath that lifts and drops her shoulders.

“We can’t say that it’s not going to be an adjustment. I mean, dropping this all on us after not telling us for so long is a lot to process—”

“Of course, of course. I should’ve said something earlier, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. I just…Did you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about it or something, sweetie?” There’s a thickness in your mom’s voice, one that makes your chest ache.

“Oh, mom, no. It wasn’t like that, I—”

“I was the nervous one. I asked for more time before we told you this summer. I know how extraordinary your daughter is; she is definitely too good for me, and I was real nervous that you wouldn’t approve. I mean, I definitely have a different life than probably what you pictured. But I want to promise you both that I am proving myself every day to her. I always want to be better.”

To your surprise, your dad cuts in before you or your mom can say anything.

“You’re right. Our daughter is extraordinary…” He paused, continuing, “But you’re a good man, Joel. Trustworthy, dependable, respectful. And you very clearly love our daughter. There’s nothing more I could ask of someone for her. So long as she has a good, happy life, I’m content.”

Joel exchanges a relieved smile with your dad, your focus on your mom again as one arm snakes around Joel’s back to hold you closer.

“Your dad said it. If you’re happy, honey, then we’re happy…” She studies the two of you with tender care in her eyes, holding her hands to her chest before releasing them with a content sigh. “And I mean, I knew.”

Immediately, your brow furrows with confusion and Joel laughs, holding it back when you shoot him a warning look. Returning to your mom, you raise a question in response, “I’m sorry, you knew? How did you know?”

“Well, nothing was ever confirmed. But I did mention to your father quite a few times how I caught you sneaking glances and smiles toward Joel.” She directs the next question to your dad, whose focus has been lost on the plate of desserts in front of him, “And, how often did I mention to you catching Joel looking at her like all of the sunlight was radiating from her? Like he was completely head over heels.”

“Oh, all the time,” your dad answers nonchalantly. You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief, Joel’s laughter bubbling over while he tugs you into his side and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“To be honest, I thought maybe he was just in love with you and you were either oblivious or waiting for him to say something. Glad to hear that I was right!” she jests, laughing to herself and exhaling dramatically.

“So does this mean I can get my renovations done with a discount?” Your dad tilts his head up to look directly at Joel who holds a hand up in oath.

“Free labor from me always, sir. Can’t promise the discount for Tommy’s help, though.”

“Oh god, Dad, seriously?” you groan, rolling your head back while Joel looks on with a smile.

‘What? What’s wrong with asking that, kiddo?” Once again oblivious, your mom waves him off to drag the cooler of drinks outside. When he’s gone from the kitchen, she rounds the island, beaming with a grin.

“Well, I just can’t wait to already live next to my grandbabies! Don’t even need to move to be any closer, unless we move in with y’all into somewhere bigger—”

“Alright, Mom, I think the party’s probably missin’ these desserts, yeah?” You usher her by handing her a tray. She gives you a motherly eye roll before resigning her thoughts and taking the plate.

“Fine, fine, I’m going!” She shuffles in her sandals before glancing back at the edge of the threshold, “We really are happy for y’all.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, Joel, c’mon. You’re part of the family now, call me Jen. And you can call her dad Mark, even if he gives you shit for it, he’s just trying to make you nervous. And then tell me, I’ll give him shit right back.”

At the click of the door shutting behind your parents, you face him and grin ecstatically, clasping your hands together. Joel’s shoulders relax with a sigh and your arms hook around his neck. He scoops you up in a hug, laughing when you shriek excitedly. Spinning the two of you around in a small circle, he settles still again, eyes locking with yours as a wide smile replaces his once apprehensive expression.

Joel nudges your nose with his, slow, warm breaths exchanged in the closeness before he kisses you. Slow, delicate, light melting into fervor — hot and heavy with all your love for each other.

Breathless, you pull away and he chases your lips for a chaste kiss, pressing his forehead against yours while you both start to laugh quietly.

“What a summer, huh?” you ask, another fit of laughter leaving your mouth.

“Definitely was a fun summer, sweetheart. And the last two, too.” Joel shakes his head, thumb brushing your cheek as he grins back at you, “Can’t wait to have all my summers with you, Mariposa.”

An ache is felt in your cheeks from smiling, but the dull pain pales in comparison to the all-over lightness; adrenaline and excitement make you feel as if you’re buzzing head to toe. Stealing another kiss from Joel, you feel him grin against your lips. Breathy chuckles fill the space between you when you pull away, tilting your head back in his hand to see more of his face.

“Wanna dance, J?”

“With you? Anytime, Mari baby. Lead the way.” He nods toward the door, taking your hand and following you closely as you head back to the party. Coming back out, all the eyes and whispers aren’t feeling like heat against your skin, instead the warmth of Joel’s palm grounds you and sends a shiver down your spine. He takes the lead in the moment, stepping ahead when you falter for a second and pulling you to the middle of the asphalt-turned-dancefloor.

The ever-so-familiar piano trills, along with the bright, smooth voice of Don McLean start to play out on the speakers, bringing wide smiles to both of your faces. As the beat picks up, Joel starts singing along, taking your hands from his shoulders and spinning you around as if you were swing dancing.

Both of you were clumsy, tripping over each other, but your laughter only brought brilliant, broad grins to your faces. The rest of the party fell away — it was only you and Joel, and all the memories that this song brought back.

The skirt of your dress kicks up as he spins you around and around, pulling you into his chest and swaying with you for the entire song, his deep and drawling voice singing along to the lyrics and sending goosebumps spreading across your skin despite the humid, sticky heat of the night. His steps slow down at the end, turning you both in one final, exaggerated circle before settling on the last note.

Joel looks down at you, adoration glinting in his eyes and his dimple showing as his mouth holds his smile. One of your hands slips away from his, reaching up to skim your fingers along his patchy beard and rest at the side of his neck. With another song turning over on the speakers, Joel leans down and catches your lips in a supple kiss. It’s slow and saccharine, savoring the taste of you on his tongue before he pulls away, waiting with bated breath.

You break the moment with a sweet, melodic laugh and a shake of your head.

“Of course, that song came on. Did you plan all this, Miller?” you interrogate playfully, the world still tunneled between the two of you.

“Absolutely not. But pretty serendipitous, yeah? Guess we should take that as a sign. Right person, right time. Finally.” His response gives you another laugh, nodding before going in for another short kiss.

“Yeah, think it’s safe to say it's the right time, finally. Was always the right person.”

“You can say that again, Mari baby.”

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1d1195 · 1 year ago

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Committed Extra II

Read the rest here: Committed

Based on this ask

I always suggest listening to this TikTok while reading this series but I think they remind me SO much of Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros.

Warnings: 18+, smut, maybe a little more romantic-smut than smut-smut but anyways. Please ignore any continuity errors from previous parts. I couldn't find what I was looking for but it doesn't mean they don't exist. not suitable for Ramadan

~3.2k words

Harry had seen her in a bathing suit. He had seen her in skirts that were not suitable for school and a dress that showed off so much of her cleavage he wondered why she didn't just wear a bra instead. The idea of seeing her fully naked was far beyond what he could possibly imagine. It was every one of his fantasies and more.

Harry had no way of getting his hands on her beautiful mind and soul. So he was going to devour her body instead.

Sarah was going to Mitch’s, which meant her place was empty.

Harry didn’t have any clothes or anything, but he didn’t care. There were leftover items between himself and Mitch so as long as they didn’t have to attend a wedding there was an outfit for him the next day.

The car ride was silent. Unless he heard her heartbeat, which was extremely plausible because it was beating so hard. He held her hand, like he had ten thousand times before, but now it was different. Because Harry loved her. Like really loved her. The way she always dreamed of him loving her. Every time she remembered he loved her she squeezed his hand. It brought a smile to his face, and she swore the needle of the speedometer crept up another increment just to get them home faster.

The logistics of the night hadn’t dawned on her until they were in her apartment living room. Silent as Harry locked the door behind him. Nerves started to swim in her bloodstream. They had incredible chemistry, their friendship was solid, she had seen Harry at his worst—sick with the stomach bug that required a complete change of clothes, and he had seen her sweaty and covered with dirt after helping her dad in the backyard.

If the sex was bad, what would it say about their relationship?

It couldn’t be bad, right? She had waited so long to have Harry in her life in this capacity. Friendship was their opener. Saying I love you was the main setlist. Sex was just the encore. It would be fine.

Right?!

“Are y’okay, kitten?” He asked.

“Hmm?”

“You’re ‘bout t’squeeze m’fingers off m’hand,” she released the death grip she had on it. “Tell me,” he ordered, but his voice was soft.

“I’m so nervous.”

“Nervous?” He repeated.

“What if the sex is bad?”

He chuckled. “I highly doubt it will be bad,” he pulled her close, trapping her against his body, cupping the side of her face and kissing her as if he had kissed her in the very spot a thousand times before. “But m’not with you for the sex.”

“Well, I don’t know what you were up to while I was gone but I haven’t had sex in a year and a half so I would like it to be good,” she murmured.

His eyes scanned her face, searching for something. “Y’think I had sex with someone else while y’were gone?” He asked.

She rolled. “That’s what you took away from that?”

“Who did you sleep with a year and a half ago?” He asked ignoring her follow-up question.

“It’s none of your business!”

“Your body s’all mine now,” he said simply. But it set her skin aflame and her heart into a frantic beat that had her worrying she would need an ambulance on standby outside the building. “S’very much m’business,” he murmured.

“Harry,” she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose. “That guy I went out with for like a month?”

“You slept with him?”

“We went out for a month, Harry.”

“But he was awful.”

“You thought everyone I dated was awful.”

“They were,” he said petulantly. She sighed.

“When did you last have sex?” She asked.

“I don’t know, three years ago?” It should have been embarrassing. But it wasn’t. This was his best friend and he didn’t care.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right,” she snorted. “No really, I told you. You have to tell me.”

“M’not kidding kitten,” his voice was firm.

“You haven’t had sex in three years?” She still sounded incredulous, and Harry just stared at her waiting for it to click. Her lips parted. “How...why...?”

“When I realized I was in love with y’kitten,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want t’have sex.”

“So you were just going to...never have sex again?”

He shrugged again. “I hadn’t thought ‘bout it t’be honest.”

It was so quiet in the apartment, not even her rapid heartbeat made a sound. “What if it’s bad? What if I’m bad at it? What if it’s not—”

“Kitten,” he sighed and shook his head. “We were terrible at French, and we took three years of it together. We’ll practice. M’not in love with y’because of sex. Obviously—loved y’before sex was an option. M’in love with you because you’re m’favorite person. M’only person,” he reminded her. “I don’t care about sex.”

It should have relieved her but it didn’t. “I want it to be good,” she whispered.

“I do too, kitten. Trust me. But s’not the end all be all.”

Quiet, surrounded them again. “C’mon,” he hummed and tugged her toward the bedroom. “Jus’ say stop if y’need a minute,” he pulled her jacket off her shoulders and bent to slip her shoes off. She felt like Cinderella. He was so gentle and while she was slightly terrified it would suck and he would realize he hated her, it was normal. Harry getting ready to undress her was normal feeling. It was warm, gentle, and all things that were Harry. She felt safe and maybe finally she realized he was probably right. Sex wouldn’t be bad. “We don’t have t’do this tonight either, kitten.”

“No way, you’ve been waiting three years and I think my vibrator is dead so it’s going to have to work,” she explained.

He groaned quietly, began kissing the length of her neck and making the noise vibrate her skin and veins in a way that nearly made her knees give out. “Well, charge it, because I have t’see that,” his breath was hot on her skin making her dizzy.

They stood and kissed for at least three minutes, her hands tugging at the hair on the back of his head silently begging for him to get closer. It was so quiet in her room she was starting to feel uneasy. “Can we put on some music or something?” She whispered.

“Turn on your radio?” He suggested kissing the curve of her neck and shoulder, taking the collar of her shirt away from her neck.

She shook her head. “I downloaded your music onto a CD, and I love you, but I think fucking to the sound of you and our friends would be a little too much for me.”

He chuckled against her skin forgoing the kisses and pulled his phone from his pocket and set up a random playlist.

Harry’s mouth found hers again and he gently guided her back onto her bed. His fingers started to push her shirt up her torso. She pulled away from his mouth and stilled his hands. “What are you doing?” She asked quickly. He chuckled.

“Trying t’take your shirt off. Do y’want t’stop?”

She shook her head trying to shake the nerves away. “Sorry,” her cheeks reddened.

“S’okay,” he assured her. “S’new, s’gonna be a little weird probably,” he amended.

She swallowed. “I don’t really like my body,” she whispered. “I don’t really talk about that with you...” she reminded him.

She was wrong. She was so beautiful and in Harry’s eyes there wasn’t any reason for her to feel ashamed or insecure about her body. It was perfect, exactly as she was. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “M’gonna make y’feel beautiful or we’re never having sex again,” he chuckled.

She giggled despite herself and nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

“M’sure,” he nodded firmly. “M’gonna take m’shirt off first, then.”

“No, don’t do that, that’s not fair,” she stopped his hands before he could tug it over his head. “I can’t take my shirt off after yours.”

He laughed a little louder this time and he kissed her sweetly, pecking at her lips over and over as he pulled away. “We can’t do this without being naked, kitten.”

She took a deep breath, sighed, and pulled her shirt over her head.

Harry had no way of getting his hands on her beautiful mind and soul. So, he was going to devour her body instead.

His gaze scanned her upper half for a few moments admiring the tiny little bow on the center of her bra right between her breasts. He kissed the swell of each one every so slightly spilling out of the cup. Her breath caught in her throat and Harry kissed upwards, bringing his lips back to hers and he pulled off his own shirt without any fanfare. Harry often walked around without a shirt, when at the pool or a beach he obviously didn’t wear a shirt. This she was used to. Her hands roamed his body and his skin felt so warm and so nice she couldn’t believe she thought this could be bad.

Harry couldn’t get her zipper down.

She giggled and Harry snorted. “Didn’t know y’were gonna wear a chastity belt, kitten.”

The clasp of her bracelet somehow managed to catch on to the fabric of his boxers a few moments later. “Jesus,” she sighed and brought her face so close to the fabric to work it free Harry turned a bright shade of red, cleared his throat and she realized her hand was resting on his dick to get it undone.

“Oops,” she whispered and pulled back. Harry chuckled softly. Every awkward moment was completed with more kisses that by the time Harry finished struggling with the clasp of her bra, (“I’ve never seen a bra with a snap like this!” “It’s comfier!”) There were only Harry’s boxers and her underwear between them.

“There’s no going back,” she reminded him.

“I don’t want t’go back,” his voice was thick with the promise.

“Me either,” she whispered.

“Kitten,” he tilted her chin up from her staring at his chest. He brought her gaze back to his. “M’so in love with you. Always.”

She nodded. “I love you too,” she smiled.

He brought his mouth to cover hers again and a new feeling took over. The air was hotter, thicker, like they were moving through a pool of water. His lips never stopped kissing her, his tongue stroking softly against her lip as he did. It made her shiver. He curled closer to her, his hand reaching between them and skimming the outside of her panties. Her breath caught at the touch of his fingers on her suddenly aching center. Harry went back to kissing down her throat, over to the space where the curve of her shoulder met her neck. “Want t’make y’feel so good, kitten,” his voice was husky.

She already thought she was going to come undone from just his fingers touching the outside of her underwear and his throaty whisper. His fingers deftly pulled the fabric to the side, and he slid his finger down through the wetness that had accumulated between her leg. She shivered again and moaned softly again. He hadn’t even done anything. But his fingers were searching. Not for what she felt was aching for him most, but for her clit and he found it so quickly it made her cry out as he skillfully circled the pad of his finger on it not too hard but not too soft. “S’good, baby,” he hummed quietly and continued to kiss her. “You’re nice and wet, kitten. Who’s that for?”

“You,” her voice hardly carried through the whisper.

“Good,” he mumbled and dropped his finger lower, teasing her, because it felt like she was clenching, begging his finger to enter her.

Maybe if she had met Harry that night and hadn’t known his personality so well, she would have been shyer and wouldn’t have had the reaction she did. But part of her felt a little competitive and if he was going to tease her, she wasn’t going to let him enjoy it too much.

She pressed her hand to the outside of his boxers, feeling how hard he was and making him gasp at the touch. His hand stilled between her legs, and she tugged his boxers lower, so his dick escaped the fabric. He groaned as she wrapped her fingers around him. “Kitten,” he grunted into her skin, and she sighed as his fingers continued to circle her clit and search for something that she wasn’t sure Harry was going to find.

“Kitten, I haven’t had sex in three years,” he groaned.

“So...you better get inside me quick?” She suggested.

He groaned again. “Yes,” he nodded against her collarbone. “Please,” he almost whined. “Condom?” She nodded and pointed to her nightstand drawer.

She couldn’t disagree. Harry had double the time on her since her last intimate moment, but she wanted him so badly in her she thought if they waited any longer, she would cry. She removed her underwear and Harry sat up to remove his boxers.

Of course, she just finished feeling how big, hard, and long he was. But it was another thing entirely to see his length literally in the flesh. “Did y’jus’ gulp?”

Her cheeks warmed. “You’re...big,” she murmured.

He snorted putting the condom in place. “Y’know how t’give a guy an ego,” but she could see the way his cheeks pinked.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just...I want it,” she caught his gaze and as awkward as everything felt, looking into the pretty green eyes of her best friend, this was not. “I want everything with you.”

Harry’s gaze softened and he dropped his hips between her legs and caught her lips again. The sound of gentle music, their tangled breath, and the skin-to-skin contact was the only noise in the room. Harry reached between them again and slid the head of his cock along the wetness that pooled between her legs again. She moaned, loudly and without abandon. Harry grunted and pushed himself inside her.

It was like sliding the final puzzle piece together. They locked into a position that felt so right, so perfect, every bit of that awkwardness went away as quickly as it appeared. Harry groaned and buried his face in her neck again. It was his new favorite spot, tucked into the curve that smelled like her perfume and her hair. It was entirely her, and so perfect. “Fuck, kitten,” he grunted letting her have a minute to stretch to accommodate his body. It had been a while since there was a dick inside her and despite how wet Harry made her it didn’t help the ache that started as he settled perfectly between her thighs.

“Oh my God,” she whispered breathlessly. “Wow,” she mumbled.

Harry focused on breathing deeply so he wouldn’t burst the second one of them shifted. “We can jus’ stay like this,” he murmured. “Nothing else, for the rest of our lives.”

She kissed the side of his head and nodded. “Yes, please.”

He pulled back slightly, his body readjusted to the feeling and his gaze was hungry as he looked her in the eye. “You are my everything,” he whispered.

Her heart fluttered, as good as Harry’s body felt inside her, it was nothing in comparison to the way his words touched her. “I love you,” she whispered because everything else she thought to say seemed inadequate.

He smiled and brought his mouth to hers, kissed her deeply and started to move.

It felt fast and slow at the same time. A juxtaposition that she didn’t know was possible. Every time Harry’s hips pushed from hers to create a heavenly friction, she followed him begging for him to come back. It felt like being apart from him, even the inch he moved to make everything feel better, was too much. She thought if it felt any better, she would cry.

“Fuck,” he groaned pumping into her at a steady rhythm. Her hands searched his body, the length of his back, digging her nails into his hips to keep him close to her. His hands held her hips in place so he was able to provide the right leverage that angled his cock, so it hit every right spot.

“Baby,” she moaned into his neck and kissed his skin. He groaned again in response. He twisted her as if he had done it about a thousand times and suddenly, she was on top of him. Pressing her hands onto his chest and moving her hips up and down so she was gliding rhythmically up and down his length.

“This was a horrible idea,” he moaned. “M’gonna finish jus’ looking at you.”

She blushed, covered her face with one hand, and laughed lightly. “It feels so good,” she whispered. “I don’t want to leave this bed.”

Harry brought her body close, one hand cupping the back of her neck and other slid down her back, gripping her butt. “We don’t have to,” his voice was hungry and he sealed his lips between hers.

“I’m going to...” she bit the inside of her lip and buried her face into his neck again. “Oh my God,” she moaned.

Harry answered her moan with his own again and met each of her thrusts with his hips. “S’good, kitten. Fuck,” he sighed. “Wanted this for so long,” he brought her mouth. “Can’t wait for you t’cum all over me and then do it all over again,” he groaned.

His voice made her ache all over. She was already aching. She wanted to stay like this for the rest of her life. Maybe longer if it was allowed.

She had a vibrator and she had sex enough times to know when she was going to have a good orgasm. But this was nothing like that.

This was so much more. The connection she felt to Harry the adoration and love she felt was more than any tingling, body shaking reaction she ever had when Harry thrusted into her just so. “Oh there, there, there,” she begged and dropped her face to his neck again with a heavy sigh.

“M’here, kitten,” he promised holding her close to him. “Right there,” he repeated thrusting as she rode through the toe-curling, body shaking orgasm. He nipped at her shoulder as he finished. Sighing heavily she dropped to him fully, her body warm, and he kissed her forehead. He brushed her hair down kissed her again. “Gotta get off, kitten,” he murmured.

“I already did,” she mumbled back.

He chuckled. “Just two minutes, kitten,” he assured her. “I love you,” he whispered. She sighed deeply, rolled to the side and let Harry get out of bed quickly. When he returned from the bathroom she was sprawled across the bed facedown. “You okay, m’love?” He asked.

She nodded. “I love you too, Harry.”

He chuckled, wrapping himself around her like a koala bear. “Good.”

“Wanna do it again?” She asked.

He laughed and kissed along her back. “Already?” He asked.

“Gotta make-up for all that lost time. And three years, Harry!”

He smiled against her skin. “Give me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need. We have forever now.”

general taglist: general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

committed taglist: @tiaamberxx

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pandorasword · 1 year ago

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Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

J-Hope's Enlistment

❒ genre: Slice of life

❒ words: 1.3k

❒ summary: In which Hobi spends the night before enlisting with Chaeri and Namjoon

❒ prompts requested from the dialogue prompts game: “I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me”

April 17, 2023

The building could hardly be considered a bar, more like a small shack with barely enough room to fit the counter and a few stools. Two tables, each only able to seat two people, took up the rest of the space. Despite its cramped size, they had intentionally chosen this place for the night, needing the privacy it offered.

The walls were made of worn wood and damp stains were scattered throughout, now covered by old movie posters dating back to before any of the three at the bar were even born. The illustrations, faded and worn, were movie posters, many from the mid-80s, and all shared a common theme: nostalgia. Which happened to be a shared feeling among them.

"Guys, I... I can't drink," Hobi hesitated, his fingers uncertainly hovering over the small glass - courteously offered by Namjoon - in front of him. "Tomorrow is an important day, everything will be filmed and I want to be at my—" but before he could finish his sentence, the amber alcoholic concoction disappeared from the trajectory of his fingers that were still uncertain what to do: to drink or not to drink?

Without hesitation, Chaeri next to him snatched it away and downed its contents in one gulp.

"Chaeri" Namjoon's tone held both reprimand and resignation as he watched her eagerly drink both her Andong Soju and Hobi's.

“I need to be drunk to make it through tonight” she muttered “And you should drink too, you look awful.”

Hobi could not help but chuckle at the situation.

Their leader's normally composed expression was replaced with one of shock, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape as if it was the first time the youngest member of their group had spoken to him without the expected respect for someone older.

Namjoon opened his mouth to respond, but then quickly closed it, instead resting his forehead on his open palm and leaning heavily against the counter. "Three more" he finally managed to request from the bartender, who simply nodded and filled three glasses with the same amber liquid as before.

LATER

He had seen this coming.

The moment they had suggested spending one last evening together, before it became impossible for who knew how long, he knew it would end like this: in the back of a luxurious car, with him sandwiched between two drunken friends, his shoulders serving as pillows.

They had laughed and reminisced about the good old days, the first sips of alcohol, the first arguments, and then they had cried.

Chaeri had ranted about the injustice of their society, how they were forced to endure over a year of grueling training because of an absurd law.

Hobi didn't want to leave; deep down, she was right.

But he had no choice. He would have given anything for a thousand more sleepless nights spent with his friends, now his chosen family, rather than fulfilling his duty as a South Korean citizen.

Namjoon was the first to get out of the car once they arrived in front of his residential building, which was the first stop. His legs wobbly from the drive and a few too many drinks.

With an affectionate gesture, he gave Hobi a reassuring pat on the shoulder, promising they’d catch up in the morning, and despite his slightly inebriated state, he also playfully ruffled Chaeri's hair, who was still wearily leaning on Hoseok. Staggering slightly as he stepped out onto the pavement, Namjoon closed the car door with a dull thud.

The car remained stationary for a moment, its engine idling softly, while everyone inside watched Namjoon walk toward the large entrance door of the building. Only when their leader had completely disappeared inside did the driver engage the gears, and the vehicle slowly pulled away.

Several minutes of silence passed in the dim cockpit, lit only by the flickering streetlights that passed the car. "I don't want you to go" Chaeri murmured, her voice barely above a whisper but clear. There was no tremor or drawl in her words, despite all the alcohol she had consumed, only a deep sadness could be sensed.

"First Jin, and now you... who knows who will leave next, and slowly I will find myself alone. I will have no one left. I don't want you to go." Her eyes, sparkling with barely held back tears, met the boy's look, begging, as if she might expect a different answer than the one she already had, as if he might assure her that he was going to stay.

And he wished, with all his heart, that he could.

He wrapped his arm around her, the one Chaeri had been leaning on since they got in the car, pulling her close to his chest in a protective embrace. It was a familiar gesture, repeated countless times during their late-night drives after events that left them both exhausted, when the only sound was the soft hum of the engine.

Chaeri, with her reassuring presence and the fruity scent that seemed uniquely hers, had grown far beyond the girl he remembered. Now, sitting next to him, he could see a fully realized woman, a transformation he had witnessed with pride over the years.

The realization that he had to leave her tightened his heart, a subtle and persistent pain, sharper than the thought of parting from the others. She was his masterpiece, the living testament to the time and love he had invested in her.

She had been his little Chaeri, and he had always been her 'big brother'.

"I don't want to go either" After a pause, he finally spoke up. His breath felt heavy and his throat seemed to have a lump in it, making his voice sound like a faint whisper. He reached out to gently stroke her long hair, trying to offer comfort not just to her, but also to himself. "But time will pass quickly, and I'll be back before you know it. I'll call you every night, take days off so we can spend them together, and send you all the silly photos I take in that ridiculous uniform. I promise."

Chaeri leaned back from his embrace, her tear-stained cheeks glowing red from the Soju she had been drinking "You better keep that promise" she said, biting her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. "Or I'll personally come looking for you."

Hobi couldn't help but burst into laughter, feeling the tension in his chest melt away, as his own eyes grew watery. "You're not very threatening when you cry" he teased, playfully poking her cheeks with two fingers.

"And you won't be threatening in a military uniform."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that" Hobi joked back.

"Besides, green is definitely not your color."

"I disagree! I look great in green!"

Chaeri smiled, looking at him tenderly. Playful bickering like that would have been one of the things she would have suffered most away from him. With the palm of her hand she wiped her cheeks "I'm going to miss you"

"I'll miss you too, kid"

"I know I won't be able to say much in front of the cameras tomorrow, so... I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. For all these years, thank you. Maybe I've never said it before.. but I mean it"

The man felt his heart swell with love once again as his gaze rested on Chaeri, who looked back at him with her big eyes full of affection. They were a mixture of sweetness and melancholy.

He had to squint slightly to contain more tears. It was incredible how he had become attached to her and the other members of the group over the years, how protecting them and caring for them had become his deepest instinct.It had become instinctive for him, a natural extension of his love for them. He never expected anything in return because every smile from them, every moment of happiness or success, had been his greatest reward

"You never had to say it, Chaeri”

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr

#bts 8th member #bts drabble #jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #female kpop oc #kpop female oc #bts imagines #bts female member #bts female addition #bts x reader #bts addition #bts eighth member #kpop female member #bts #kpop oc #kpop oneshots #kpop original character

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mixtape127 · 1 year ago

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worlds colliding ☆ pt.1

genre : non!idol mark lee x male reader, college au, ennemies to lovers ?

summary : what if you - kinda - had to save the world and Mark was your sidekick ? or — you need to give out fliers for a class, and Mark doesn't care about "global warming."

warnings : strong language, mark is kind of a douchebag but i swear he's sweet, not proofread yet

words : 1.6k

notes : i love this story sm, it's been in my drafts for so long and it was supposed to be about p1harmony, but i like it with mark too ! might make it in more than just 2 parts if you guys enjoy it as much as i do ! and btw, english isn't my native language, so i really do hope i actually wrote well and if i made dumb mistakes, i'm sorry :((

currently listening to :

"thank you, please look forward to it !" y/n says, bowing multiple times, a smile enlightening his face, watching the group of students walk away with fliers in his hands. "i hope to see you there tomorrow !"

it must have been around 9:40 a.m., a chilly morning for a spring day. the sun was shining, the clouds were absent. the green leaves were showing, some still falling on the grass of the campus park. the students in short sleeves were out again, and the jocks were taking advantage of the cooler weather to work out outside. y/n looked up, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. he felt cold, his bones shaking. his poor denim jacket did not cover his bare arms, and his jeans with holes in them did not provide any warmth either. he smiled to himself, seeing some birds migrating elsewhere, formed into a triangle.

he blinked a few times, returning to his emotionless face, before continuing to approach some of the students in groups to give them the rest of his fliers. but none of them seemed interested, and y/n began to lose hope. his business professor had made it clear that if he couldn't get at least 20 students to donate, his semester was over. this was his last chance, and he wasn't about to let it go. his displeasure gradually began to show, the creases in his face deepening. the more people walked around him, the more his hands tightened around his fliers. it's one thing for them not to be interested, but for them to ignore him like this is another.

for a moment there was a flutter, no one was coming out or going in. he took the opportunity to catch his breath, closing his eyes.

"one... two... three..." he whispered to himself, focusing on the soft whistle of the wind.

when he opened them again, he saw a figure facing him approaching the doors of the art building behind him. y/n thought to himself that this was fate, that this boy was almost arriving with a glittering halo of light behind him, signifying y/n's last chance. he took this opportunity and approached the guy, feeling confident.

"hey, how's it going? i'm handing out fliers about globa-..."

a brief gust of wind caressed the skin of his face. again, no response. the boy stalked his way, his headphones screwed to his ears, only giving y/n a small glance. he stood there, watching the boy's back as he walked away. he finally admitted to himself that this time, his pride had been shattered into a thousand pieces, and someone had come to trample it right after. he noted in a corner of his head that he didn't like the idea at all. but it was without realizing it that his legs responded alone, quickly approaching the young black-haired student. he patted him on the shoulder vigorously and handed him the previously crumpled paper in his hands when the latter turned around.

Mark, on his side, put on a bewildered face, one eyebrow raised. he was sure that he had deliberately ignored this boy just a few seconds ago. his day was not starting very well. his dog had chewed on his last pair of freshly bought shoes, his roommate — Donghyuck — had finished his favourite cereal and the hot water had been turned off on his floor. then finally his bus... never came, so he set out to walk to the university, realizing halfway there that his wireless headphones were out of battery. he'd wasted about ten minutes buying wired ones just to survive the rest of the day. and it was also at that very moment, coming out of the convenience store, that he promised himself he'd keep a spare pair of headphones in the bottom of his bag, just in case.

he took out one of his headphones, and uttered an extremely nonchalant "what? i'm late." he didn't mean to sound mean or disapproving, but the day was already taking its toll on him. he almost wondered what kind of people were picking on him so much, and for what reason? had he been too mean to the salesman last night, when he asked him to get out of the store because Mark was singing EXO's music at the top of his lungs? was he too dismissive of his singing teacher when she told him to stop doing 'too much'? and then, what do you mean 'too much'? Mark really didn't like that word, even less when it described his singing.

y/n, on the other hand, waved the paper in front of his nose. he was frustrated with his morning, especially with the way people responded to him. and especially the way Mark said 'what'. he wondered why people were in such a bad mood in the morning. he let out a breath to regain his composure before starting.

"before you cut me off, i think taking this won't hurt you. i'm really passionate about this cause, so i will give you this flier. and if i have to shove it down your throat, i'll do it." he pressed the piece of paper against the boy's chest in front of him. "thank you, and have a great day."

y/n bowed before rotating drastically, turning his back on Mark. he put his hand on his heart, which was now pounding in his chest. not because the black-haired boy was a living god, but because he felt he was getting carried away and tangled up in his words. how people see him matters a lot to him, even if he doesn't talk about it much. and he knew that this interaction was going to play over and over in his head tonight and keep him awake.

"what a fucking weirdo..." Mark muttered once y/n was far enough away.

he clutched the flier in his hands before resuming his journey to his class, which was really about to start. what do you mean 'i'll shove it down your throat'? he shook his head from left to right, pushed open the door and quickly dashed down the left corridor, hitting someone in the shoulder on his way.

Mark hardly turned around, just to give a weak look to the brown man who was bending while getting lost in excuses, and he took a quick walk to room 208. once in front of it, he opened the door and quickly sneaked to his place, at the back left of the room, managing to pass out of the radar of his teacher, who hadn't even noticed his absence until then.

once seated, he took out some of his things, not forgetting his bottle of fresh orange juice, something he bought every Tuesday morning to give himself luck during that long day. Tuesdays were never really his days, always bad and gloomy. he wasn't superstitious, but if Tuesdays could disappear completely, his world would be much better.

as he took his notebook out of his backpack, the flier given to him by y/n slid silently to the ground. Mark bent down to pick it up, not failing to roll his eyes as he placed it back on the table. but his eyes were drawn to a large headline.

"THE WORLD IS SLOWLY ENDING, BUT YOU'RE THE HERO, RIGHT?"

he chuckled silently, before turning the paper over to see the back, finding that there was nothing written on it, and crumpled it up in his hand before tossing it into his backpack. saving the world was not in his plans. not today.

maybe tomorrow... who knows? and he did. he saved y/n's world, in some sort of way the day right after.

"it will serve you better than me."

y/n blinked a few times, frowning in front of his phone, which was playing a summer song, although outside, it was raining damn heavily. he wondered if the voice came from someone talking to a friend behind him, or from his headphones. but the whistle sound in his right ear brought him back to reality. he let out a faint "i'm not a fucking dog-" before looking at the umbrella someone was holding upon his head, then at a guy with brown hair. it takes some time for y/n to connect the dots — maybe because of some sort of poor eyesight — but when he does, his mouth opens up wide.

"you're the guy from yesterday that said "what" so nonchalantly it made my day way worse than it was already !"

Mark rolled his eyes. "i'm trying to save the world, being a hero, i'm landing you my umbrella." with a devilish grin, he removes the umbrella from above y/n's head. "but if you want, i can leave too."

"i'm surprised you read that flier you hated so much." he mutters.

y/n did not know if he should accept, but after all, it won't kill him and it will keep him from getting sick. even though he loved hanging out in bed instead of going to class, getting sick was one of the things he hated the most.

"thanks a lot... um... what's your name?"

"Mark."

he took the umbrella and put it over his head while nodding, repeating Mark's name quietly like he was getting used to it. their eyes met again before Mark got swept away by Donghyuck's reminder that the bus was there and it wouldn't wait for them. he let himself be swept away, and a minute later, y/n's silhouette evaporated in the distance, through the mist on the bus windows.

Mark was lost in thought. and he noticed that his name sounded pretty coming out of y/n's mouth.

#Spotify #nct #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee x male reader #nct 127 #nct dream #nct x male reader #mark lee #mark nct #mark is a bad boy #and we live for it #mark lee x y/n #haechan

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yesbutmakeitgay · 8 months ago

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Say Your Name Into A Mirror Three Times

GIF by userbrielarson

Carol Danvers x Reader

We’ve Loved A Thousand Lives

Same beginning, different story every time.

Part 11

Heavy angst, PTSD, mentions of death, vague mentions of suicide, happy ending.

Beta'd by @cordeliasdarling 💜

A/N: This one is heavier than any of the other installments in the collection, read at your own discretion.

Word count: 1.3k

Masterlist | This collection | AO3

Carol walks back into her ship after another successful mission wanting for nothing more than to relax and rest until she senses someone else’s presence in her space home.

She walks slowly, pointing one of her lit up fists in a general forward direction, when she reaches the living room, her glowing lights up your face. You stand before her, powerless.

She stops in her tracks a few feet away from you, petrified, frozen in place, so in shock that she almost forgets how to breathe. She slowly brings her lit up hand to cover her silent gasp.

"Have you seen a ghost, Captain?" you utter emotionless.

She swallows thickly, "You're alive." Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"No thanks to you."

She slowly takes a couple of steps toward you, "You were dead, I saw you—"

"I was sedated. They lied to you and you believed them," you reply in a harsh tone. She quickly notices your disheveled state, you have lost a lot of weight, your eyes are red with irritation, and your face has been drained of all its color.

"Are you okay?" Her eyes travel between yours.

"What do you think?"

"I’m sorry, angel, I thought—" she clears her throat, "I never stopped looking." At some point she began looking for a body, not a person, but she keeps that part to herself.

"Then why was I the one who had to crawl my way back here?" you hiss.

Her breathing becomes shaky, "I couldn’t, the universe needed me."

A sour tear escapes your eye, "You were my universe."

"What did they do to you?" she asks in horror, looking over all the scars, marks, and poorly healed wounds on your exposed skin.

"I don't know." Your voice cracks a little before you regain your composure. You don't wanna talk about it, you're not ready and she doesn't deserve it.

You walk past her and accidentally brush her shoulder in the process, the touch is so light, but Carol feels it like an earthquake. You enter the bathroom and close the door behind you.

When she hears the running water, she decides to make herself useful. As you exit the bathroom a familiar smell makes your stomach grumble, you see the hot meal waiting for you at the table and immediately sit down to eat.

You eye Carol for a moment before digging in, wishing she would join you, but she doesn’t. You know she's trying to give you space, still, you were hoping she'd at least have a meal with you.

You didn't realize how hungry you were, having been on a runaway diet for so long, until you finish your plate in 7 minutes flat. She approaches you and asks if you want another, you only nod in response.

You finish your second plate not long after and go lay on the couch. She understands you probably don't wanna share a bed with her, so she brings out some pillows and blankets for you to get comfy, turns the light off, and retires to her room.

A few hours later, your body begins to question your safety while you're sound asleep and forces you to wake up in a panic, your eyes shoot open as you begin to hyperventilate.

You sit up and hug your knees to your chest as tightly as you can in your weakened state, trying to control your breathing, you look around and remind yourself you're in Carol's ship. You're home.

After you calm down, you go to the kitchen and make yourself some tea, you look for your favorite mug, but don't find it. On your way back to the couch, a small device catches your attention, so you bring it back and set it beside your tea mug.

You stare at it for what seems like hours, feeling the warmth of the drink embrace you. After a few more sips of your tea, you have made your choice, you take a deep breath, lay down, and place the memory device on your head.

Your vision is pitch black with a faint beeping sound in the distance and voices muttering, "The Captain's not coming for her, she is on the other side of the galaxy."

"Be patient, she will come in due time."

"Can’t we just kill her already? She’s hanging on by a thread."

"Unplug the monitor and take the damn video, let's give The Captain a horror show."

In an instant, you feel someone else’s memory tug at your brain. You now see Carol, talking to a hologram of Fury, "Did you take control of my ship?" She’s beyond agitated.

"Mhmm."

"You can't do that, stop it!"

"Yes, I can, I already did." Fury seems calm and collected as always.

Carol frantically presses buttons on the control panel, "Give it back!"

"Not until you get back to your mission. There is a war happening, and you're too busy aimlessly cruising the universe."

"I need to find her." Carol’s voice grows desperate.

"You need to save an entire planet from disappearing, I have your issue under control."

"No, you don't, you don't know where they have her either."

"And if you don't get back to your mission, I will stop looking." Fury’s threat sounds very uncharacteristic to you.

"You wouldn’t."

"Don’t test me."

"She’s your agent!" Carol argues, still unsuccessfully working on her ship.

"So are you, go do your job!"

You're finally able to free yourself from Carol's memory and find her laying on the window seat, "What are you doing?" you demand.

"I’m sorry, I had to, I have to know what happened to you."

"Well, now we'll never know." You sit up on the couch supporting your arms on your thighs, looking to the ground. The memory device has drained all of your mental energy.

She notices your cold cup of tea and uses her powers to warm it up before handing it to you while sitting beside you.

"The day I got that video I almost did something very stupid," she breaks the silence, "Kamala came and stayed with me for a while to, you know," her words make you look up at her again, "I kept running out of plans, out of places to look…out of hope. Fury said he was looking for you, but I disobeyed him so much, I’m not sure he really was anymore," she begins to fidget with the hem of her shirt, "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"You said you would always protect me and I believed you." Your gazes meet longingly.

"Can I touch you?" she hesitates.

"You know I’m not really a ghost, right?" She looks at you with the saddest puppy eyes, her breath is shaky, "Come here," you coo, softly pulling her into a hug, she clings to you with all her might, as if you could fade away at any second.

She begins to sob into your shoulder, "I thought I lost you." Carol doesn't cry often, if at all, the sight tugs at your heartstrings, all the pent up anger you arrived with melts away.

"You're burning up, angel," you mumble into her skin, she doesn't have the heart to tell you, you're the one freezing cold, but she makes sure to keep her temperature high to gently warm you up.

You remain intertwined and, after a while, she starts to float with you in her arms as her crying subsides. Her grasp on you is so tight that there’s nothing you can do about it, not that you want to.

She takes you to bed and cuddles up to you like she's trying to meld your bodies together, you look around and notice all of your things are exactly where you left them, all of your clothes are hanging on your side of the closet, your shoes messily placed by the foot of the bed, and your favorite mug still on the bedside table.

"Thank you for waiting for me," you whisper into her chest.

She places a kiss on the top of your head, "I’m so glad I have you back."

#carol danvers fic #carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #carol danvers angst #captain marvel x reader

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rebelwrites · 1 year ago

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Seventeen: Baby You Ain’t As Anonymous As you Think.

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Standing amongst the crowd I watched Jax and Tig take the makeshift stage that had been built down by the lake. I was still unsure why we needed a stage this big but Jax and Pops were adamant they wanted it, they sure as hell loved theatrics. Tearing my gaze away from Jax I turned to look at Charles, who now had Elenor sitting on his shoulders, she had a proud smirk on her face like she had just walked into a candy store and the store owner told her everything was free.

“Tu vas bien, ma chérie ? Are you all right, darling?” Charles beamed, flashing me a smile.

“I will be,” I hummed, reaching up gently squeezing his arm. After the photos were released on instagram this morning I felt myself holding back from public displays of affection and it was killing me.

“Auntie Nova, can we have a movie night tonight?” Elenor grinned, fluttering her long eyelashes at me, “and can Uncle Charles and Uncle Pierre come as well?”

“I don’t see why not baby,” I beamed back at her before turning to Charles, “you down for movie night with my crazy ass family? There is a high possibility we will be making our way through all of the Cars movies,” I giggled, knowing that Elenor would beg and plead to put all three films on.

“Sunshine, didn’t you know Cars is one of my favorite movies,” he smirked with a wink.

“Alright then, Lightning McQueen.”

“Kachow.”

“Oh my god!” I exclaimed, covering my face with my hands, trying to hide the snort that escaped my lips, “you did not just Kachow me. God, you are a giant dork!”

Before Charles could respond Jax’s voice echoed around the lake, as if the boy needed a microphone he was loud enough as it was, “I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone turning up today. Before we kick off the annual scavenger hunt I have just been made aware of a few donations that have come in anonymously.”

I found myself cocking my brow at my brother who just smirked at me, throwing me a wink as he pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket, “I honestly could cry at these donations. Two people have donated 26 thousand dollars between them, with 10 thousand dollars going towards the dementia charity and 16 thousand dollars being given,'' the words were getting caught in his throat, as he covered his eyes with his hand trying to stop the tears, “to the Teller family to help with any future care that JT needs.”

There was nothing stopping the tears from spilling over my lashline, I didn’t even try to stop them. That's when it hit me, everything made perfect sense. Two donations which both happened to be the same numbers as the two dorks standing either side of me drove under. Without saying a word I turned to Pierre pulling him into a tight hug, before turning to Charles reaching my hand up resting it on his cheek with a watery smile on my face.

“Baby, you ain’t as anonymous as you think,” I whispered, feeling him copy my movements but instead of letting his hand sit still against my skin he slowly used his thumb to wipe away my tears.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Sunshine.”

The rest of the day went by in one big blur, the scavenger hunt was a success, even if it was the first year where I didn’t win but I didn’t care. My focus was on Charles, I wanted to enjoy the little time we had left together so the afternoon was spent wandering around town, showing Charles the places that held fond memories for me. All whilst keeping an eye out for people that might be trying to leak pictures of the two of us, luckily for us everyone was more focused on the events of the day then me and Charles.

“I just need to finish up here then we can head back to mine,” I hummed, leaning up on my tiptoes pressing my lips against his cheek.

“Take your time Sunshine,” he smiled, picking Elenor up, sitting her on the top of the bar.

I couldn’t help but smile as I walked away from the two of them, slipping into the back I needed to find Jax. I knew where he would be, taking a deep breath I wrapped my fingers around the door handle before slowly pushing it open. I needed to clear the air between us. I hated the fact we had hardly spoken all day.

“Hey,” I said quietly, leaning against the wooden frame.

“Hey, yourself,” he said looking up from the paper that was in his hands, “about earlier,”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said softly, fiddling with the sleeves of Charles hoodie, “my head has been all over the place recently with you know,” I paused, dropping my gaze to my hands, “everything with Pops and the social media post, then you tell me we fucked up with Juice, I just kinda exploded.”

“We do need to talk about it though,” Jax sighed, dropping the paper onto the desk.

“I know,” I whispered, finally looking back up at my brother, “I need to get my head straight first, okay.”

“Okay,” Jax nodded, pushing himself up to his feet, taking a few strides across the small room before he pulled me into a tight hug, “I still love you, don’t worry about that Squirt.”

Resting my cheek against the cool leather, I took another deep breath, “enough mushy shit, Elenor wants a movie night so lock the office up and let's get outta here.”

Jax didn’t take much convincing, I knew that movie nights were his favorite, taking a step back, I started walking back into the main room. The moment I stepped out behind the bar I felt my blood starting to boil at the sight that was in front of me. My fingers twitched as I formed a fist, I was ready to punch a bitch.

She was pushing her fake ass tits up against Charles and fluttering her false eyelashes.

“If you wanna live, I would suggest you walk away whilst you have the chance,” I said through gritted teeth, pausing so I could unclench my fist covering Elenor’s ears, “you fucking skanky ass bitch.”

The smirk that Ima flashed made me want to grab the knife from behind me, the one that we used to cut up the lemon and limes, “well, let's be real, you aren’t the kind of person that Charlie goes for,” she laughed, turning back to Charles, running her fingers across his cheek. I didn’t miss the slight flinch that happened when she made contact with him.

“If you wanna be real, then I can get real,” I growled, placing my palm on the bar, shifting my weight onto my hand. I launched myself over the counter, “I might just start a bonfire out back, throwing your scrawny ass on it, watching you melt in the flames,” before she had a chance to respond, my fingers were tangled in her hair extensions, yanking her head back with so much force I was surprised I didn’t snap her neck.

“Get off me you golddigger,” she screamed, trying to claw at my hands.

“Do you even know who he is?” I asked, cocking my brow.

“Some football player,” she said with so much confidence I couldn’t help but scoff.

“Yeah, such a skilled football player,” I said with a playful tone, locking eyes with Charles, watching as he laughed slightly with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Jax, leaning against the back worktop with a smug smirk on his face, “need any help Squirt?” he asked, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his jeans.

“Nah, I’ve got this,” I nodded, tugging harder on Ima’s hair causing her to scream, “the trash just needs taking out, that's all,” I growled, storming out of the bar, dragging Ima behind me.

Ignoring the sound of her cries I didn’t stop until I was standing outside of the building. I didn’t care if I was being over dramatic, this bitch needed to keep her hands off things that didn’t belong to her, like my man.

Shit, I was calling him my man now.

Fuck, I was acting like a jealous girlfriend!

I didn’t even know if I could call myself Charles’ girlfriend, just the thought made my heart skip a beat but I knew that come the end of the summer break he would be back doing what he did best. Racing around tracks at 200 miles an hour, living that playboy life, more than likely forgetting I existed.

Pushing the thoughts down I let my fist collide with Ima’s nose feeling the familiar crunching feeling under my knuckles, “you better stay away from him if you don’t want your whole face reconstructed.”

Loosening my grip on her cheap ass extensions I spun around on the balls of my feet, strolling back into the bar with a proud smirk on my face. The moment I got close enough to Charles, he wrapped his arms around my waist pulling me in between his thighs.

“You getting protective over me now, Sunshine?” he hummed, slipping his hand underneath the hoodie letting his fingers brush against the skin of my lower back, causing sparks to erupt across my skin.

Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I shook my head slightly, “nah, I just don’t want you catching an STD or something,” I said calmly.

The smirk on Charles face was enough to cause my knees to wobble, if it wasn’t for his strong arms wrapped around me I was pretty sure they would have given out on me.

“You sure about that, Babygirl,” he purred, leaning closer so his nose brushed against mine.

The two of us were locked in the moment, it was like there was no one else in the room with us, like we were protected by a bubble, until Jax rang the last order bell, causing me to jump at the unexpected sound, “I do not need to see whatever this,” he scoffed, waving his hands in the air, “is gonna lead to.”

“Oh Jackson, leave your sister alone,” Pops scolded, causing me to pull away from Charles slightly, instantly being greeted by a warm smile from Pops, “she’s young and in love, leave her be.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I exclaimed, narrowing my eyes at my father, “who said anything about love?”

“Oh sunshine,” Charles beamed, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “you are so in love with me, it’s written all over your beautiful face.”

Instantly I could feel the heat in the room rising, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention as Charles slowly moved his fingers across my cheek and I was pretty sure my ears were the same shade of red as his hoodie I was wearing.

“I can uninvite you from family movie night, ya know,” I huffed, pouting at him, “so I’d think carefully about who’s side you take.”

“No you can’t Auntie Nova,” Elenor said loudly, “I invited him so you can’t kick him out.”

“Yeah, Auntie Nova, I’m Elenor’s guest,” he hummed. The smile on Charles' face turned into a smug smirk as he moved his hand into the air so Elenor could fist bump him, “thanks for having my back Ellie-bear,” he grinned, throwing her a wink. I couldn’t believe this, everyone was ganging up on me.

“Sempre zio Charles, sempre,” she grinned.

I couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the expression on Jax’s face as he watched his little girl speak in another language. Yes she didn’t pronounce it perfectly but for her age it was really good.

“And in English?” he asked, letting his eyes dart between me and his daughter.

“She said, always uncle Charles, always,” I beamed, leaning over and ruffling her hair. “in Italian.”

“Princess, where did you learn that?” Jax asked with a proud smile on his face, as he walked around the bar until he was now scooping her up in his arms.

“Pierre told me what uncle was in Italian and I knew what always was,” she giggled.

“I wonder where she learned that from,” Jax said with a playful tone, cocking his brow at me.

“No idea,” I shrugged, wiggling out of Charles arms.

“Yes you do auntie Nov,” Elenor grinned. Was I really about to be called out by my five year old niece? “you are always saying ‘Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Apparently I was.

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

#Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc x oc #Charles Leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #Charles Leclerc series #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine

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