#if not a prompt u can just stop by to lmk ur thoughts or to say hi!

[albatmobile]

fic updates 12/14

lots of posts today- sorry!!

ARS's sequel Cardinal Sins has a lot of new, exciting content that i'd be super suuuuper grateful if yall could show some love to!

ALSO keep an eye out for a new fic coming out next week as a chrismukkah gift 😙

[parkersbliss]

if you and the COD men had Instagram

pairing: task force 141 x gender neutral reader (platonic), ft. keegan, alex, konig and alejandro

warnings: totally inaccurate brain rot, some of these people would not have instagram or post them like this LOL, like def OOC but it was funny to me? obvi they don't actually know each other canonically

a/n: I canon ghost would actually vaguely appear in the back of their insta posts with no tag and people just think the grim reaper is coming after them :)

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

Liked by valval, kganrusset, and 226 others

soapify gang and @/lasvargas !!! view all 33 comments

(Y/U/N) ZOO WEE MAMA SOAP UR BICEPSSS 🤤 → soapify glad someone noticed → gatzby one bite? 🥺 → soapify boy.

j.price my men → (Y/U/N) no, MY men :)

gatzby ghost in jeans really completes the vibes → (Y/U/N) imagine ghost is actually smiling behind the mask → user141 I'm not.

lasvargas this is too cold, showing the opps fr → (Y/U/N) @/iphilgraves 😘 → gatzby BITCH U HAVE HIS INSTA?? → soapify do NOT bring his energy on my page. → j.price (Y/N). office. now. → (Y/U/N) awww 🙁 → user141 this doesn't surprise me

Liked by iphilgraves, sandroach and 463 others

gatzby FOAP!! view all 122 comments

user141 Calling an airstrike on you right now. → gatzby NO PLEASE

soapify GHOAP → user141 Die.

(Y/U/N) bros got an overbite fr → user141 I will literally knock out your teeth.

katelasss Never seen this angle of him → user141 And you never will again.

iphilgraves Not so tough with the jaw hanging out, now? → lasvargas gtfo before I bomb you → iphilgraves Thought we were teaming up to mutually bully him → gatzby I BLOCKED U??? → iphilgraves Whoops

j.price Did you take this before we got ambushed? → (Y/U/N) it was funny → j.price Kids 🤦‍♂️

Liked by walkingL, imrudyyyy and 658 others

(Y/U/N) did somebody say serve? view all 99 comments

user141 Serve your country. → (Y/U/N) I am????

soapify serve me a sandwich → (Y/U/N) bitch.

gatzby serve me that ASS → (Y/U/N) say less king

j.price Serve some revenge. → (Y/U/N) sir yes sir

lasvargas we all know this diva

katelasss Can you serve a response to your emails? → (Y/U/N) oops, yes ma'am

alexkellar scrolling feels like a divorce → (Y/U/N) it is

vladmak What core is this? → (Y/U/N) beat ur ass core.

Liked by konig, alexkellar and 833 others

(Y/U/N) he wanted to say hi (we’re stranded at sea) @/kganrusset view all 129 comments

kganrusset YOU wanted to take the photo 🫵 → (Y/U/N) details, details → kganrusset whatever 😒 lmk when you get tired of handing out my number to other bitches → soapify am I included in bitches? → (Y/U/N) are u fucking serious. → gatzby yeah. → kganrusset you can reach me at 348-

j.price How did you end up with Keegan out there? → (Y/U/N) girls trip! → kganrusset Please take them back.

user141 Ghosts crossover before gta6? → (Y/U/N) ghost joining the ghosts when?

soapify the mcu (military commander universe) is expanding → kilokarim ULF crossover again? → iphilgraves shadow company crossover? → (Y/U/N) when? → gatzby (Y/N) STOP. → lasvargas mexican special forces crossover? → konig KorTac crossover? → vladmak Konni crossover? → katelasss No.

j.price Why don't you have half of those people blocked? → (Y/U/N) my bad, cap → user141 They're not blocking them. → (Y/U/N) I like the drama 🤷‍♀️

—

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taglist: @trxpslxt @looking1016 @the-kakawshi-bird @Bitchyzombietaco @lilwinchester67

[girlboybug]

Ultraviolence

"he hit me and it felt like a kiss."

or the one where ellie finds refuge in your farm house, whereas joel only finds a challenge of self restraint when he meets you.

what’s playing 🎧 : ultraviolence by lana del rey

pairing : joel miller x female!reader

word count : 9k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, mean!joel, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, manhandling, rough sex, spitting, slight voyeurism if you squint, f!masturbation, m!masturbation, spanking, fingering, slight dom/sub dynamics, panties fetish, creampies, unprotected sex, breeding kink, light restraining, choking, tummy bulge, impact play if u kinda squint and tilt ur head, degrading, light praise, daddy kink im sorry yall (not rlly), unspecified age gap, dirty talk, fluff for 2 seconds at the end :p

TRIGGER WARNINGS : reader has emotionally absent/verbally abusive dad, takes place after the david incident but there's zero mention of it lolz just background for yall, joel is mean and rude tbh, kinda very toxic but im addicted to old toxic men sowwy (plz dont ever let a man treat yall like this irl!!) anyways this is all i can think of, lmk if i missed anything! otherwise pls enjoy!! <3

a/n : wouldn't be a fic written by user girlboybug if the reader didn't have raging daddy issues lolz

there’s creaking at the front patio, the old wood worn down by countless stomps from your boots never failed to act as an alerting system for any trespassers. your heart sinks when you force yourself to get up, the responsibility to inspect the origins of the noise falling on your shoulders alone. 

yippie. 

your hand finds its hold around the neck of your dad’s shotgun, sock covered feet waiting a pregnant pause at your door, swallowing down the brunt of your nerves thickly. you inch out the door, holding the shotgun as steady as you can, eyes fighting to not fail you by succumbing to the night blur that glazes over your vision. 

your sights land on a figure of a man, anxiety hitting you with the heel of its fist into your nervous system once his silhouette becomes clear before you. you pointedly aim at him, praying that the act seems intimidating enough. “you’re trespassin’” you call out, prompting him to raise his hands beside his head, keeping his movements slow and careful as to not give you a reason to shoot. 

“just lookin for shelter ma’am,” he replies, his voice feels deep when it hits your ears, not stopping short of rich. “not buyin’ it. now i’m not gonna repeat myself, leave before i blow your goddamn head off,” you shoot your threats in the place of bullets, but your tone gives out on you, giving in to your fear, cracking in on itself mid sentence. 

a young girl moves from behind him, her hands also beside her head. “ellie,” he whisper yells, trying to move back in front of her. your hard glare falls into a guilty gaze, and your shotgun falters downward. “thought i told you to stay behind me–” she cuts him off, probably causing a vein on the side of his temple to burst with stress when she moves in front of him to speak. 

“we’re just looking for somewhere to stay for the night, and we’ll be out of your hair by morning. we promise.” the now named girl swears, looking at the man that dwarfs her in size for extra confirmation. “promise her joel,” she hushedly instructs and he huffs, looking back at you. “promise.” he adds gruffly. 

they look like father and daughter, and you don’t have it in you to turn them away, and despite the possibility that lingers in the back of your mind that this is all a ploy to rob you blind, you settle on the fact that it’s worth the risk to let them in. 

your shotgun rests beside you, no longer using it as a shield from the fear of an impending threat. “okay,” you verbally decide, and ellie lets out a sigh of relief, leaning into joel. he holds onto her with a sense of care, of protection, and your heart pangs at the sight as they climb up onto the patio. 

your lips drop open unintentionally when the man that now has a name and a face to go along with it, stands before you. 

he’s tall, he’s handsome, much older than both you and the girl. “thank you ma’am,” he says, a curt nod from the top of his head, and ellie offers a small smile, joining in his nod. “thank you,” she whispers, and you smile back, moving to the side to let them in. 

immediate comfort envelopes the pair, a quiet breath of it being expelled from them, and you close the door behind you, locking it to make sure that the warmth from inside doesn’t morph into the frigid wind outside. 

“there anyone else with you?” joel questions, unintendedly sending a worried alert in your mind, your body language showing a visible uncomfortableness at the question. 

ellie notices, nudging joel with her elbow. “dude?” she mouths, eyebrows furrowed, silently asking, what the fuck? 

you find yourself trusting her more than you do him, which is just enough of an amount to get you to believe he doesn't mean to sound as sketchy as he comes across. “just me and my dad. he’s asleep upstairs,” you respond, and joel looks back at you, pursing his lips, nodding. 

“i’ll show you where you guys can sleep, and i can even get you a change of clothes.” you say, flickering between the two of them before turning on your heel. they trail behind you quietly while you lead them to their temporary rooms. 

walking up the stairs, and past the stretch of the hallway, you stop at one of the spare rooms, pushing open the door. “there’s this one, and then,” you lean over, pushing open a door to the room just beside it. “this one. up to you guys to decide whoever gets which,” you send them off with a nervous smile, rubbing your palms over your pajama bottoms. 

“thank you,” ellie calls out, lowering her voice but keeping it at an octave audible enough for you to hear. you turn back, smiling at the young girl before going into your bedroom. you grab a pair of pajamas for the pair, trying to be quick so as to not keep them waiting. 

you return to them, finding them both in the same room, sitting at the side of the bed. ellie’s head is leant against joel’s arm, his stare resting over her. the pang hits you again, but you push past it, gently tapping your knuckles over the door. his stare moves from her to you. 

“these are for her, and here’re some of my dad’s old clothes for you. they should fit, but if not you can uh, let me know and i’ll find something else for you.” you set them down beside him, and he nods, a tight lipped inch of a curl over his mouth spreads just slightly, acknowledging your actions.

“these should be fine,” he places a hand over the folded clothes, where your’s was and you find yourself swallowing hard again. his hand is big. 

“alright, well goodnight.” you wish kindly, making your way out the door, nodding a polite bidding. “night,” he responds, traces of southerness apparent in his vowels. “thank you,” he makes sure to say before you leave.

for everything he wants to add, but he doesn’t, which is okay, you can hear it through the crickets and the quiet peacefulness that passes through the room. 

you leave him with an equally hushed response of no problem, the door closing behind you at the curt ending of your reply. 

–

your eyes snap wide open, a low wince falling out at the sting from the rude awakening your body is being subjected to. your name rings as a harsh echo, and you’re quick to your feet, remembering the girl and the man staying in your home, unbeknownst to your dad. “shit,” you groan, hurriedly rushing across the hallway and down the stairs. 

and there was your father, loud, angry, and yelling at…joel? if you remembered his name correctly. “who the fuck are these people and why are they tellin’ me you let them in last night?” he all but shouts, and you feel small, humiliated.

“i did, i’m sorry, they don’t mean any harm, they just needed a place to stay for the night.” you answer meekly, and joel’s fists tighten, every fiber of his being wanting nothing more than to plummet his fists into the side of your dad’s jaw. 

“lord,” he exhales, shutting his eyes and pinching his nose bridge. he walks towards you, a finger pointed at your face when he speaks. 

“if they wanna stay they better make themselves useful, if not, i want them out my goddamn house in 5 minutes.” he snipes irritatedly, eyeing you down with annoyance, making sure you saw the seriousness in his face before he leaves, trudging out the front door. ellie watches with sympathetic eyes as you flinch when he slams the door shut.

it’s quiet for longer than you’d like for it to be, but you’re unsure of what to say after being belittled in front of people who are virtually strangers.

“what a dick,” ellie exhales and joel looks at her, eyes wide, lips tight with chastising ready to be released. “ellie!” he chides and she raises her arms in disgruntled defense. “what? he is!” 

you laugh, and they turn to you surprisedly. “yeah, he is. i’m sorry about that.” you sigh, and joel shakes his head. “no, we’re sorry, we didn’t mean to impose and cause you all that trouble.” he apologizes, genuineness in his softened tone, a pane of his thick drawl behind it, and it soothes away the feeling your dad left you with. 

“it’s alright, it’s just how he is,” you say, attempting to pacify their concerns, but ellie, blows out a quiet breath, eyes slightly wider when she tilts her head side to side. “massive asshole,” she mutters, and you giggle before joel can chide her once more. she smiles at your laughter, and joel just sighs his 100th sigh. 

“you guys can sit, he’ll be gone for most of the day. i can make some breakfast before you have to go?” you offer, motioning towards the dining table, desperate to move past this topic. “mighty gracious of you, but we should get goin,” joel inadvertently rejects your offers, and you frown. 

ellie turns to him, a hopeful stare chipping away at his decision. “dude please, there’s only so much chef boyardee i can take.”

you stifle a laugh at her pleading, tying an apron around your waist. 

“fine.” he sighs, and ellie whispers a successful yes!

–

as time went by, you grew closer to ellie, but almost as a trade off, it seemed as though joel drifted further and further from you, leaving you with no idea as to why. 

you’ve been nothing but kind to him, and the more you tried to do…well, anything, it only pushed him away instead of bringing him in closer. 

granted, you did do things that prompt some kind of annoyed response from joel, like right now, as joel stands in the bathroom, his eyes falling to your discarded panties on the ground. 

he marches out the bathroom, searching for you. “ellie, where’s the girl?” he asks, and she can hear the irritation building in the base of his voice. “uh, outside, she’s picking some fruit, why?” she queries, turning around from her seated position on the couch to face him.

he strides towards the door, eyes glaring straight ahead. “no reason.” he replies sardonically, and ellie rolls her eyes, flipping back on the couch. 

your dad had gone into the next town over to collect more supplies, do some more trading and other various things, but you didn’t care, he’s gone for the time being, and you’re happy, at ease, with more time to look after your garden and spend time leisurely picking at the fruits that hang from the trees above you. 

you’re resting on your knees, overalls rolled up to your thighs, bandana covering your hairline, nimble fingers plucking at the strawberries from the array of bushes. the rays of sunlight blanketing over your skin suddenly vanishes, and you turn, hand over your forehead when you look up at joel. 

“oh hi joel! strawberry?” you chirp, offering a plump strawberry, and he exhales through his nose, eyes raking over you. 

you have a habit of almost never wearing bra’s, and you just about live in overalls and shorts, always accompanied by some tight fitted top. 

god, you make his life so hard. 

little pink ribbons are tied over the top strap buckles of your overalls, and you look so adorable that it almost makes him angry. 

“no, thanks, look, i know it was your bathroom before it was mine, but for the love of god, please stop leavin’ your…undergarments on the floor.” the subtle twang increases just a notch at the way he rattles about your sightly panties. 

your face gets hotter than it was from the sun and you drop your arm, looking away embarrassedly. “oh my god how embarrassing, i’m so sorry, i’m just not used to sharing my bathroom, but that’s not an excuse, i’ll take care of them, i’m sorry joel,” voice pretty and soft, just like you, and he sighs, staring at you for a thick standstill, before going back into the house. “messy girl,” he mutters to himself. 

he finds his way back into the bathroom, eyeing the suspect in question, feeling the strings in his chest pull in tight. he picks up the pair with a curl of his finger, eyeing it like a foreign object. 

he clenches down on his teeth when he stares at it, the pink striped cotton is soft, a little bow adorning the front of it. 

he feels dizzy. 

he honestly considers pocketing them, but immediate disgust kicks in and he drops them, walking out. 

dirty old man. 

–

you are inescapable, easily running joel’s patience down into the dirt beneath his boot. your dad is still gone, but joel and ellie listened when he said to be useful. 

they help you around the house, almost doin ’more than you, joel would grumble, but no matter how much he busied himself with chores, there was hints of you in everything. 

when he’s feeding the chickens or collecting their eggs, he can look not too far out and see the clothesline where you air dry their laundry, not a single thought about letting your bra’s hang from the wire, taunting joel. 

he imagines you in it, the racy little red number, nipples perked behind the flimsy material, shoulder’s beckoning to slide the straps down.

“shit,” he grunts, looking down and seeing the smashed egg in his fist, squeezed to pieces from the intensity of his perverse thoughts.

sometimes he thinks you do this shit on purpose, mocking an old man with something you would never give him, and he feels like banging his head into the wall. 

and in this moment he feels it’d be an especially good time to do so, exhaling sharply from his flared nostrils while he searches around for you, calling out your name, only to be met with no reply. he can’t find ellie either and he’s panicking, he’s panicking bad. 

he shouts your name from the very depths of his stomach, and he pushes every door he sees open until he stops at your bedroom door, pushing inside and growling with anger when he sees you laid upside down in your bed, hands resting on your tummy with thick headphones clamped over your ears. 

he stalks towards you, bending down and ripping your headphones straight off your head. your eyes snap open and you jerk upwards from the bed, clambering off the bed in the most unflattering way possible, rushing to get to your feet. 

“joel what the hell? what’s going on?” you ask, and he scoffs, mad that you have the audacity to be annoyed here. 

“where the fuck is ellie?” he grits out, and you sigh, snatching back your headphones when you answer. “she’s in the stable with my horse, she’s fine joel.” you promise, and he squints his eyes, shaking his head frustratedly. 

“y’can’t just send her off somewhere on her own like that and not even think to tell me, and – dammit, don’t wear those goddamned headphones when i’m callin for you, god you are so irresponsible,” he rants, his voice trailing up a ledge of loud anger, and it’s your turn to get mad. 

“okay joel, you need to stop fucking yelling at me, she’s still on the damn property, she isn’t gone in the next town over, i’d never put her in a situation where she could get hurt and secondly, you don’t get to talk to me like that and tell me what i can and can’t do in my own house.” you’re in his face now, making an effort to stand up for yourself, but joel isn’t tolerating any of it. 

“you listen here little girl and you listen good,” he moves in closer, and you suddenly feel overly aware of his proximity, almost immediately backing down to move away, but no, you wanted to talk back like a big girl, you’re going to face the consequences of one. 

“you best lose that nasty fuckin’ attitude of your’s, i don’t care if this is your house or not, it ain’t an excuse to act like a goddamned thoughtless brat.” he’s breathing heavier now, his face too close to your’s, chest dangerously nearing your own. 

your eyes nictate back and forth in his, desperately suppressing the tears that imperil at your waterline, biting on your bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. “you’re such an asshole,” is all you can manage to fire back through a weak excuse of a response. 

he scoffs at you, stepping back before marching out your room. “no shit sweetheart,” he sneers with a lowered baseline of exasperation. 

you fall back on your bed when he’s gone and out of earshot, holding your face in your hands, allowing yourself to let out the tears that almost spilled out in front of joel. 

your fists wipe the tears away, angry that they were even there, each stream down your cheek is a reminder of who caused them. 

refusing to give in to the pain that gnaws at your chest from his spewing anger, you get up, walking out your room, deciding to make your way around back to the stables. 

ellie was saddled over applejack, your only horse, with joel sitting behind her, his arms wrapped around her, keeping her steady, keeping her safe. 

the gnawing bites down harder inside your chest, and you’re unable to fight against it. instead you cradle yourself, comforting the ache while leaning against the bulk of the tree behind you, watching them interact. 

his gaze over her is so soft, so full of care, of love, and he’s laughing, which enables her laughter, and you find yourself smiling as you watch them despite what had just transpired. 

you watch as ellie plops the cowboy hat you had left on applejack’s saddle over his head, and your back gets stiff against the bark of the tree when she does. 

he fixes the hat atop his head, and it annoyingly suits him well. 

he looks like a proper cowboy.

your eyes drift down to the way his hips roll with each trot from applejack, his back leant naturally, looking relaxed, confident, like he knows what he’s doing, and that he knows he does it well. 

his hand runs over the side of applejack lovingly, his strong hand smoothing over her coat, and you feel like crumbling down into the soil of the earth, breathing in a little harder when you imagine those rough, strong hands of his on your skin instead. 

you reach up, pulling a peach from the tree above your head, settling down to sit and just watch the two gallop along with applejack. 

joel’s eyes find you, they always do, and almost like she just knew, ellie decides to lead applejack back over to where you are. joel’s hands tighten over the reins, jaw clenching when they make their way over to you.

“well hi there sweet girl,” you coo, petting applejack when she bends her neck downward, greeting you happily. 

you bite down into your peach, laughing quietly to yourself when the juice spills down your cleavage. joel follows the way the juice rolls down your chest, disappearing behind the pesky coverage of your tank top, and he feels like it's a punishment for his previous yelling. 

you hand the rest of the peach into applejack’s mouth, cooing an, aww there you go sweet girl. 

“damn these look good.” ellie whistles, reaching up to pluck a peach down. 

she drops it, and she groans when it hits the ground. “i got it, don’t worry!” you remedy, turning around to bend down and grab it for her. joel feels like dying when he sees the heart curve of your ass, it’s almost too perfect, and he wonders if this is how his heart finally gives out. 

kinda looks like a peach… he thinks to himself, eyes tracing over the form of your ass for as long as he can before you’re turning back to face them. 

you go up on your tippy toes, quickly grabbing another peach, handing the new one to ellie and tossing the one that fell over to joel. 

“you get that one,” you half tease, half huff, and ellie laughs, waving her clean peach at joel. his eyes settle on you while you talk to ellie, ignoring his presence. 

his teeth sinks down into the peach, his stare trickling over the way you’re squeezed into those stupid fucking tiny shorts, and he thinks about a different type of flesh to bite into. 

– 

nighttime visits your household once more, but it’s anything but peaceful for you and joel. 

ellie knocked out as soon as she collapsed in her bed, but joel’s wide awake. he wants to sleep, wants to forget this day even happened, but he can’t. he replays everything despite his efforts to pretend that the events from today didn’t even occur. 

however, guilt drags its spindly fingers across the muscle of his heart while flashes of his loud anger directed at you forces itself to be acknowledged behind his eyelids. with a disgruntled huff he rips the blankets off his body, climbing out of bed. 

he pushes past the door, making his way to your room to apologize for his harshness. 

the closer he gets to your room, the more he hears a concerning sound gently echoing from behind the door. his brows fly up and he grips at your doorknob, turning it. his knuckles tighten over the knob, his body standing still and stiff in the cracked entrance when he sees you. 

you’re sprawled in your bed, sheets hanging off you, covering not a single thing, leaving joel to wonder if what he’s looking at is real or not, and if it is, should he even be looking at you like this?

he knows the answer to that, it's a big fat resounding no, but joel doesn’t exactly have the purest morals of all time, so he stays in spite of his conscience telling him to close the door. 

he watches your head roll side to side tirelessly, back arching off the bed, bucking your hips into your hand, struggling to pleasure yourself the way you need. your fingers keep sliding off your poor clit, too soaked to keep a good grip on it. 

it sounds sticky, even from where joel stands, it’s all so fucking dirty, your sweet little whimpers going straight to his cock, pushing up against his sweatpants that already hang low off his hips. 

he palms at himself, trying to alleviate the throbbing ache. his eyes follow the curve of your bare chest, your tight tank top under your chin, pretty tits in the air, hard nipples that are begging to be in joel’s mouth. 

you whine to yourself, eyes watering with frustration when your fingers refuse to stay put on your needy clit, trying to instead fill your fluttering hole that clenches around nothing.

joel’s fingernails dig into the doorframe, physically restraining himself from going in there and shoving himself so far into you that it hits your cervix, stretching you nice and open for him. 

he thinks about how he’d make you take it, how you’d claw down his back while he fucks you like you deserve. 

he feels disgusting, like a goddamn pervert, but he again wins the battle against any morals he has left and stays to watch. you sound so wet its fucking ridiculous, he just wants to lap it all up on his tongue and drink you in. 

but what he really wants, is to make you beg, to make you cry. 

you further test his will, when his name floats from your trembling lips, his jaw going slack at the unreal moan. his hand falls to his straining cock, squeezing it, silently pleading with you to be good and say it one more time for him, to confirm he heard you right. 

and you do, you whimper his name, an airy little, joel, while grinding down on your finger, trying to angle your hips to hit a spot you hardly ever have success in satiating. 

good girl, he grits without a sound, his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock. 

you think back to him yelling at you, ignoring the pain of the memory, and instead rewriting how the fight ended. your brain conjures up an alternate ending, where he bends you over the foot of your bed, smacking his hand over the fat of your ass before he rams himself inside you. 

you think about his back curling over yours, his cock too deep inside you, muttering for you to fuckin’ take it. 

he’d have his face in the crook of your neck, his beard would tickle your skin while the dirtiest words you can think of would be listed off in your ear. 

his beard, your hips rise in the air desperately, your mind now imagining his stubble between your thighs, how his mustache would brush over your clit until it’s raw. “please, want it joel, want it so bad,” you moan to yourself in a pleading fluttery little voice, and joel almost steps forward at your begging.

i’ll give it you, he promises to himself, wishing he could tell you instead.

he can’t fucking take it, he drinks in the bare sight of you once more, memorizing each curve, the way your voice trembles, the way your legs shake, the plump of your thighs and chest, and fuck, he thinks he’ll pass out before he can even make it back to his room. 

he carefully closes the door, striding hurriedly back to his bed. he shuts his door, making an immediate dash to his awaiting mattress. 

he pulls the blanket over his hips, tugging down his sweatpants and letting his cock spring up. he uses his precum as lube, too impatient to spit in his hand. he fists at his fat cock, pushing past the roughness from his palm, pretending that it’s your soft hand wrapped around him. 

he thinks back to what he just saw, imagining that he did step inside, closing the door behind him before making his way to you. 

you’d probably get scared at the sudden sight of him in front of you, but he imagines that you’d be too desperate to care about his actions. 

you’d grab his wrist, bringing his hand to your poor little cunt. “touch me, please joel?” you’d plead with those watery eyes of yours, and he would, he’d touch you until you couldn’t take it. 

but he’d make you take it, he’d stretch you out on his fingers before he’d get his cock in you. he can only fantasize about how good your tight little cunt would feel all around him, how snug you’d be, gripping him in, but no matter how hard he tries to pretend, he knows his imagination does your pussy no justice to how good it’d actually be. 

he starts fucking his hand, head falling back into his pillow, his bicep’s flexing with straint while he goes to squeeze his cockhead, traveling back down to his shaft, struggling to please every inch of himself. 

he wonders if you’re a virgin, wonders if anyones gotten to see you like how he did, or did they get to experience it themselves?  

he gets jealous at the thought, but he erases it, instead thinking of the possibility of no one ever getting to touch you but him. 

yeah, he likes that, he likes thinking about being the first and last cock you’ll ever have deep inside you. shit, he growls, thumbing over his leaking tip, he’s close. 

he starts panting, chest falling more rapidly with heavy breaths, his hand working over himself faster now, the slick from his pumping fist around his cock is embarrassingly loud, but he uses it and pretends it’s the sound of him in your pussy, and that does it for him. 

he cums in his fist, slowly thrusting into the tunnel of his hand before he releases himself, and he groans, letting his body sink deeper into his bed. 

fuckin’ disgustin’ he mutters to himself. 

–

he can barely look at you the next morning, he feels hot all over when you so much as walk past him, your scent always trailing behind you and filling his senses. 

you smell like the sweetest form of vanilla and it makes him unstable, feeling like he’s gotta hold onto something to remain upright when you’re near him. 

you make your own soap, and, of course you make your own fuckin’ soap, he thinks to himself, growing weaker by the second when you talk about how you used vanilla beans in your recipe for soap. 

you offer to make some for him, but he declines as politely as he can, finding any excuse to establish some space. he can’t be near you, not now, and not later, he needs time to remind himself what self control is. 

he decides to chop some firewood, the nights are getting colder and colder anyways, and he thinks this’ll be a good distraction for him. 

he pours all his frustration into it, swinging the axe from behind his shoulder and down into the blocks of wood, chopping them up into logs.

sweat lines his forehead, his biceps bulging from the tight constraints of his rolled up flannel, and you watch from the window, staring at him as he leans back, taking in a few deep breaths while he wipes his forehead before continuing. 

you swish your thighs together, walking away when you realize if you don’t move now, you’ll stay the rest of the day just watching him. 

-

after a few hours outside, joel is beat, he thinks he deserves a break. he trudges back inside, sighing when he’s greeted with the fresh air conditioned breeze. 

your legs hang off the arm of the couch, head resting on a cushion and buried in a magazine. 

he eyes your legs while he walks into the bathroom, almost unable to tear away from them. but when he walks through the door, he closes his eyes immediately once they land on the ground, as if the sight before him physically hurts. 

he exhales with aggravation when he sees your white cotton panties on the floor, and your cream lacy bra hanging off the towel rack, mocking him. 

he’s had enough. 

he stomps out the bathroom, and you brace yourself for the latest lecture when you hear the nearing ruckus of his boots connecting to the wood floors. 

he yells your name, his voice curling around the curve of an upward rage. “what joel,” you yell back mockingly, he stands above you, looking furiously down at you.

“what did i tell you about your goddamn panties and bra in the fuckin’ bathroom,” he shouts, jabbing his thumb back towards the bathroom. you huff, swinging your legs from the arm of the couch, rising to your feet. “i’m sorry!” you throw your arms up annoyedly. 

“i’ll get ‘em, i understand it’s annoying but joel you don’t need to yell over every. fuckin’. thing, you can talk to me like a normal person,” you contradict your own words, pointing a finger at him while you shout back. 

he grabs your finger, pulling your wrist down and away from his face, beaming anger glinting in his eyes. 

“thought i told you to get rid of that nasty fuckin’ attitude little girl,” he spits, words hanging in the air like a venomous gas, and you all but growl with irritation. 

“i’m not a little girl and you’re not my dad, y’don’t get to talk to me like that you fucking dick,” you bark back, feeling a sudden fear when you see the way he’s looking at you. 

his top lip curls with disdain, and he nods slightly to himself, like he’s just mentally made his decision. 

he grabs you by your upper arm, dragging you along with him back around to the couch. “let me go,” you try pulling your arm from him, but it does nothing, his grip is stronger than your efforts. 

he sits down, pulling you into his lap, grabbing you roughly and repositioning you so your tummy rests over his thighs. “what are you doin–” he holds your jaw, forcing you to crane your neck to face him.

“i’m gettin’ real sick of your fuckin’ back talk, you say you’re not a little girl yet all you do is act like one, a real rude one at that,” he grits in your face, and you feel small, wishing the couch would just swallow you whole. 

“i ain’t your dad but you need some serious fuckin’ discipline,” he lets go of your jaw, letting you fall back into the cushion. he unhooks your overalls, pulling them down and under your ass. 

he exhales lowly when he sees the hypnotic curve of your ass, clad in baby blue polka dotted underwear, it’s too cute that it makes him sick. 

he doesn’t even think when his hand runs over your ass, smoothing over your skin, squeezing the thick flesh in his large palms. you whimper under your breath, squirming in his hold. “stay still,” he orders, his tone cold, riding on a mean line of pointed annoyance. 

“you’re gonna say you’re sorry with every one of ‘em, you hear me girl?” he asks, resting his hand on your ass testingly. 

you nod quietly, but it isn’t good enough, he’s grabbing your face again, forcing eye contact. “when i ask you a question you answer.” he sneers, teeth baring for a second and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling your clit ache embarrassingly from the harsh treatment. 

“i hear you.” you reply meekly, and it suffices, because he’s letting go of your jaw, refocusing on the new task he has at hand, or rather, in his lap. 

he rests his palm over one cheek, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, the warmth from his hand tingling your skin. 

your clit is right up against his knee, and you want more than anything to rut on it, roll your hips to gain any kind of friction, but you figure you’re in enough trouble as it is so it’s best to hold back these desires. 

he raises his hand, slamming it back down and eliciting a loud smack that resonates around the room. you cry out, gripping onto the cushion under you. “i’m sorry,” you whimper out, skin prickling with heat. 

he does it again, his heavy hand rising up only to crash back down against the fat of your ass. “i’m sorry,” your voice trembles, your eyes already beginning to water, despite the fact that you’re just barely getting started. 

he slaps over your ass, hard. his rough calloused palm emitting an even stronger sting over your soft skin, and you cry out, kicking your legs against the armrest of the couch, feeling the anger increasing with each rough impact from his palm.

“i’m so-orry,” you hiccup, wiping away the tears streaming down your cheeks. he continues with the abuse on your ass, feeling a twinge of guilt at the way you cry but manage to say your apologies with each relentless hit to your bottom one after the other. 

“you gonna listen to me when i tell you to do somethin’?” he raises his voice, along with his hand, letting it fall down onto your pounding flesh when you don’t answer fast enough. “yes, yes gonna listen,” you wail, little feet kicking with pain. 

“gonna lose that fuckin’ attitude of your’s?” he grunts, smacking your ass hard over where he just hit, watching you howl in anguish, back trying to arch away from the pain. 

“yes,” you sob, nodding with earnest. 

you’ve lost count of how many it’s been, the only thing that remains consistent is the hot pain that comes in waves over your bruising skin, the welts in the shape of his hand throbbing and aching in never ending flashes. 

he rubs over your skin, soothing the soreness away, before he drops his hand against it once more, erasing the little comfort he was giving you. 

you’re apologizing through loud wailing, not a care in the world for how embarrassing it is to be sobbing in joel’s lap, because it fucking hurts. 

he swats over your ass, fast and rough, letting the sting of it settle into a prickling pain that spreads down to the backs of your thighs.

after a few more hard hits to your ass, he figures you’ve had enough, your crying making him feel a pang of remorse for not taking it easier on you. he runs his hand over your scorched bottom, mending the abused flesh in an attempt to calm you down. 

you’re crying, lashes getting slick from your tears, lips growing plump with the loud hiccups of pain. he massages over your ass, gently this time, but your skin feels too raw to enjoy it. 

his self restraint is weakening, he can’t stop himself when he tilts his head back, leaning into the couch to look down at your inner thighs. he sees a wet patch spreading over your panties, and he scoffs, bringing two fingers to it. 

you gasp, trying to wriggle away from it, but he keeps you still. “interestin’” he half snickers, and you just about die of humiliation. 

“reckon you want me to do somethin’ about this?” he murmurs, voice gruffly cascading in the teeming air. he circles over the wet patch, giving you a chance to turn him down, shut down his advances, but you don’t want to. 

you bend a little, arching into his touch. “please?’ you whimper, all embarrassment gone from the pain, and he inhales a hefty breath, swallowing thickly. 

he slides your panties to the side, drawing his fingers up and down your slick. you shiver, tightening your legs around him. 

“can’t believe you’re soaked over that,” he taunts meanly, judgingly, and you whimper, your face getting hot from the base of your throat when he pushes in his middle finger. 

“you’re s’mean,” you sniffle and he scoffs at your complaints, pushing his finger in deeper to watch you gasp and shake. 

“i showed you what mean is,” he chuckles lowly, leaning down to make sure you hear him. he shifts his hips around, pressing something to your hip, making sure you feel it. 

“and this ain’t mean,” he curls his finger right up into that little spot you struggled to reach last night. he starts curling his finger, right there, and suddenly you can’t breathe, you can’t even believe this is happening, but whether it’s real or not you don’t want it to stop. 

“more,” you whine, pushing back on his hand with a devout need. his free hand grips at the bruising flesh of your ass, the plumpness of it filling the gaps between his fingers, and you wince, little hands trying to grip at the cushions for comfort. 

“you’re a greedy little girl with no fuckin’ manners. do i need to do this all over again just to remind you to say please?” he raises his hand back up over your ass, and you’re shaking your head, turning back at him pleadingly. “n-no, no, i’m so sorry,” you whimper, the backs of your hands covering your stinging bottom feebly. 

he laughs at your attempts, but decides he’ll let it slide. he moves your hands away, and pushes his finger back inside, filling you up to the knuckle. you moan deeply, relief at the pleasure entering you once more. the way he fucks you with his finger is all you need to even begin trying to ignore the resounding pain he instilled into your ass. 

little pants leave past your lips, your cheek squished against the couch while you try to fuck yourself onto his fingers. “feel’s s’good,” you drool. 

he can’t stop the downward spiral he’s letting himself fall into with you, he’s in too deep, and he’s just accepted that he wants to go deeper. 

you’re rutting your clit against his knee just how you’ve been wanting to this whole time, and he watches you as a desperate little wet thing in his lap trying to get off with what he’s giving you. 

"you know i saw you last night," he whispers in your ear, beard tickling your neck when he leans in real close, his finger picking up speed when he continues. 

your face burns hot, and you can't bear to look at him. "oh god," you moan, half from pleasure, half from pure humiliation. 

"heard you sayin' my name too, there somethin' you wanna tell me?" he pushes you a little further, watching and waiting to see how you reply. 

you're so disoriented, you can't think straight past the embarrassment and the feeling of joel refusing to let up with his finger inside you. he rubs over that perfect spot right there, and it feels so good that it almost kills the shame that burrows itself under your skin. 

"n-no? no, i dunno," you whine dumbly, and he rolls his eyes, flicking his wrist harder now, gripping the hand of yours that tries to hold onto him. "you don't know?" he parrots back mockingly. 

"you just so happened to be tryin' to finger yourself while moanin' my name? that just a coincidence?" his words jab at your cheeks with taunts and you whimper, hiding your face away from him, still shamelessly grinding down onto him when he works another finger in you, stretching you out. 

"i'm sorry," is all you can whimper, you feel stupid with his fingers in you, bullying your poor cunt until it makes that addictive pap pap pap sound. "apologizin' for the wrong thing, should've been sayin' that instead of talkin' back to me," he grunts, letting go of your wrist to smack the side of your ass. 

you cry out, shaking in his lap from the slap, the pain echoing over the sore flesh. "i'm sorry," you draw out longly, chest racking with tears mixed with pain and ecstasy. 

he pulls his fingers from out your tight hole, and you whine, looking back at him with those pretty, innocently guilty eyes of yours.  

"quit your whinin'," he mutters, pulling you upright into his lap. he looks back into your gaze, and it only reminds him of how you're breaking him down into a weak, weak man.  

his thumb runs across your bottom lip, dipping into it. "open," he tells you with a softer, hushed sternness. you obey, parting your lips for him. 

he spits in your mouth, and you take it like a kiss, carrying the action like a caress. it mixes with your own saliva, ingraining himself in your dna. 

he stares at you expectantly, hands lowering down to your ass, squeezing it indignantly, like a warning. 

"thank you," you breathe out, feeling drunk on him. he seems pleased, his tight clasp over your ass gets gentler, but it's still firm, still there. 

"got a real issue of rememberin' your manners there girl," he tsks, his thumb trailing down your chin, his other hand patting your bottom. "but i'll fix that, fix that right up." he promises, but it feels more like a threat, one that he intends on staying true to. 

he lays you flat on your back onto the couch, and you allow him to, letting him do whatever he pleases with you, and he thinks he likes you like this, so sweet and so pliant. 

he pulls your legs towards him, he feels hungry, feels impatient, he wants all of you and he wants it all now. 

joel hasn't wanted anything in years, because if you don't want anything, you won't be disappointed when you don't get it. 

but now he's got you in front of him and he can't take it. he wants you. he's greedy, and he's dirty, but he doesn't care, you've done irreversible damage that he expects will be somehow repaired if he can just get a fix of you, just enough to gratify his bodily needs. 

your legs find their way around his hips as if you've done this before, as if his body has been with your's prior to this, connecting like they're supposed to. he slots himself between your thighs, feeling almost overwhelmed to finally have you like this for him. 

you want to kiss him, want to hold him, want him him him, and although you've already got him, you still feel like there's more of him to be had. 

he unbuckles his belt, the sound urging your legs to tighten around his waist. his eyes drag over you, slowly taking in the vision that's you, as he unbuttons his jeans. he pulls himself out, your gaze dropping down to him, feeling your heart sink immediately. 

you never assumed he was small, not that you thought about what was under those jeans, (lies) but shit, this was just obscene. near unnecessary, because how in the hell does he function carrying that…thing around? 

he sees your gawking, and an annoying pride fills him to the brim at your visible awe. "is that gonna fit?" you finally ask, and he laughs, pumping himself when he inches closer. "we're about to see aren't we?" he answers, moving your panties to the side. 

you get stiff with nerves, holding onto his strong bicep. "joel i-i dunno if it'll fit," you admit, you sound scared, because you are, and he almost feels bad. almost. 

"if you don't want this tell me now," he places your panties back, but you're shaking your head, pulling him back in. "no i do, i do, promise," you sound so desperate, so needy, and he's trying so hard to not just fuck you right now. 

"just, scared…i never uh..you know." you motion between you two and he swears he nearly punched the air with obnoxious success. "this your first time?" he confirms, and you nod, feeling shy under his stare. 

"not like i've been trying to save myself or anything, there's just no one around over here," you explain, not that you needed to, if anything joel is ecstatic with a primal possession that he gets to be your first. 

"so you're jumpin' at the first man who gives you some attention? 'specially an old man like me?" he circles the tip of his cock around your clit, and your lips part, hips instinctively lowering down on him. "n-no, i," you don't have any words for him, his actions rendering you silent.

he starts slowly inching in, and your head falls deeper into the cushion behind you, nails crescenting into his forearms. he goes in with no resistance, you're so fucking soaked around him, gripping him in like a warm welcome. 

"shit," he shudders, fully sheathing himself inside you. his hand lands beside your head, panting above you, and he looks so beautiful like this. he's so handsome, his eyebrows are in that furrow that they're always in, but this time it's for a different reason. 

you look down at where you're connected, and you feel as though you're now one, he's a part of you as you are of him, and you never want him to leave. 

you start rolling your hips experimentally, no matter where or how you move, you feel him deep inside, the fat head of his cock hitting there, over and over, and it feels so good, you don't think twice about continuing your little ministrations. 

he forcibly pauses your actions, halting your hips down with a rough grip from his hands. he's glaring down at you, uh oh.  

"greedy little girl," he grunts, starting to piston his hips inside you. you cry out, leaning forward to find solace in his broad chest, but he pushes you back down, pinning you still. he pauses for a moment, grabbing his belt. "wrists." he orders, and you listen without wasting a second. 

he ties your wrists, pushing them above your head before he continues. he's groaning atop of you, fucking you with a purpose, and you take him, entire body bopping upwards with every harsh thrust being fucked into you. 

you want to touch him so bad, it feels like torture, you want to put your hands under his flannel, explore the skin that lies underneath, but he's denied you of that privilege. "brat's got such a tight fuckin' pussy," he grunts, impaling you hard onto his cock, stretching you out so good you can't stop yourself from trying to meet his thrusts. 

the moans that pour from you are endless, all you do is whimper his name, crying for him and it inflates his ego, but he can't have you being this loud. a hand clamps over your mouth, and you moan behind it, any touch from him is welcomed wholeheartedly. 

"quiet down girl," he grits, leaning in close while his thrusts grow harsher. "startin' to think you left your panties for me to find, bet you wanted me to get mad, jus' wanted some attention huh?" he moves his hand away from your mouth, instead using it to grip your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker. "speak," he orders. 

"n-no, no i just fo-forgot, promise," you swear, words feeling difficult to pronounce and even think of when he's got you stretched out on his cock like this, fucking you dumb. 

he doesn't believe you, his hands working around your throat soon after you squeak your response. "no?" he teases, his hands growing tighter around the pane of your neck. 

your wrists wiggle around the confinements of the belt, wishing you could hold the hands that have you cradled like a glove. 

"f'you just wanted my attention, or just wanted to get fucked," he rests on his haunches, pulling you with him, letting you slip down further onto his cock, the corners of his lips curling when you cry out. "then just fuckin' ask, don't need to be pullin' stunts like that," 

his hands around your throat feel loving, they feel safe, and perfectly fitted around you, like his hands were made for this. the lack of air feels right, feels like this is what you needed, and you want more. 

tears well at your pretty eyes, rolling down your cheeks while you grip at the buckle on his belt, his cock moving so deep inside that you feel him in the base of your tummy. 

he releases your throat, and you gasp for the air you didn't even realize was depleting. he pulls the belt loose, and you immediately go to his arms, running over them. squeezing at the muscles, feeling impressed with how they flex under your touch. 

your hands travel up to his face, his beard tickling your palms. "feels sososo good joel, never felt like this," you slur, eyes falling shut at the pleasure. "yeah? this all it took for you to fuckin' behave?" he groans, your hands running across his wide back, trying to feel him, feel the muscles that you've only ever gotten to steal glances at. 

he's letting you fall backward again, hovering close to your level, his cock filling you to the hilt, and then some, and you want to tell him how full you feel, how good it feels to have so much of him in you, but the words are lost on you, there are no thoughts left to be had, just pure physical manifestations of what he's doing to you. 

"kiss me, please?" you beg, and he doesn't argue, doesn't mock you or tease, but connects your lips, kissing you hard. you moan into his mouth, calf resting on his lower back while he pushes in and out of you. his beard brushes around your chin, your nails gently scratching at the back of his head, eliciting his turn to moan in your mouth. 

he kisses you like he fucks you, rough. it's rushed, messy, wet, but there's power in the way he does both, making you feel hazy, dizzy, and overfilled with rapture all at once. 

every push, and every shove into the couch is registered as soft, gentle caresses, loving affection, so graciously given to you by the rough hands belonging to joel and you take it all in stride, left wanting more, craving more roughness that just feels like love instead. 

his face falls to the warmth of your neck, nipping, biting down onto your shoulder when he buries himself further than you even knew possible, inside of you. your mouth parts, a string of whiny moans leaving past them when he grinds into you, bucking your hips to meet his. 

"finally bein' so obedient, should've just gave in an' did this sooner," he grunts into your skin, hands holding you down by your hips. his fingers find your clit, rubbing over the sensitive nerves just like how you did last night, and you choke on a moan, tangling your fingers in his salt and peppered hair. 

"so good, feels so good, thank you daddy," you cry like a prayer into his neck, and he sends an especially hard thrust into your cunt, knocking the air out of you. you feel frozen in horror when you realize what's just come out your mouth.

"that's real nasty y'know that right?" the sick curl in the corner of his mouth contradicts the shame he throws at you, and the way his cock twitches inside you acts as further proof that there's no truth in his mocking. 

you cover your face in his shoulder, but no, he wants you to look at him when he fucks you, he wants to see the way those pretty lips of yours mold around the word that rightfully belongs to him. 

"don't get shy now," he huffs, holding your jaw, head falling back when he feels you clench down around him. his hands fall back to where they belong, wrapped snug around your throat.

he watches the way your eyes roll back, bottom lip being sucked in while you try fucking yourself onto him. "dirty fuckin' girl," he grits, squeezing you while your fingers curl over his, intertwining with him. "s'all right, i can be your daddy," he grunts, pushing in and feeling you squeeze him when he lays his promises to you. 

you force your eyes open, gazing at him hazily while he pounds into you. he brings his hips down to yours relentlessly, no mercy in the way he fucks you. he's growing messy, falling out of tune when he slows down, shoving himself all the way in you, letting the sensation of the way you wrap around him be appreciated like it's supposed to be. 

"my fuckin' cunt, you hear me? repeat." he releases your throat, and you gasp, sputtering while you nod. "yes, s'all yours," you hiccup, watery eyes making out a blurry joel in front of you. he presses his hand to your lower stomach, groaning to himself when he can feel his own cock piston in and out of you. 

he lessens the speed in his thrusts, slowing to watch his cock fill you up. you squirm at the extra pressure, pawing at his wrists. "so much, it's so much daddy," you whine, and he grunts, feeling pride at the way he's got you so fucked out. "take it," is all he says, sounding gruff and strained. 

"can i cum please? promise m'gonna be so good for you daddy, gonna listen an' everything," you cry, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips, pulling him in deeper. he grits his teeth, chest getting tight at your pleads. 

"really think you deserve it?" he grunts and you nod, gripping onto his shoulders. "yes, please, i promise, promise m'gonna be good, please please," he concedes to your begging, bringing his fingers to your clit. 

you gasp, panting in all the air that'll fit in your lungs when it all hits you. your skin is tinged with heat, legs trembling on either side of joel's waist when you feel the tides start to ripple closer to you until it crashes, pulling you into the ocean and you're drowning. drowning in joel. 

"thank you daddy, thank you s'much, so good," you muffedly sob, face in the crook of his shoulder while he fucks you through your orgasm, fingers running over your clit, winding you up just to watch you fall apart. 

"fuck, squeezing me so hard," he laughs breathlessly, slipping into a heavy moan at the way you're clamping down on him. "so good baby, take what you need, that's my girl," he groans, holding your waist down, fucking you with a rushed need. the backs of your thighs rest over him, and you feel weak, but fulfilled, watching adoringly as he uses your body to cum. bursts of pleasure still erupting inside you at the way he fucks you. 

my girl

you whimper at the fleeting affections, unknowingly clenching harder around him.

"shit, shit, gonna fuckin' cum, gonna fill this pussy up, greedy little cunt can't get enough," he groans, head falling forward while his orgasm envelopes him, the slick from your mixed arousal loud while he gasps, grunting with a few harsh thrusts. he pushes into you with finality, cumming deep inside you. 

he slowly pulls out, and it stings, you're wincing, feeling bare and cold. 

he pulls your panties back over you, eyeing the way his cum pools against the material, and he feels good, feels like he's permanently marked you as his. he tucks himself back into his jeans, catching his breath before he turns his attention back to you. 

he dresses your limp body back into your overalls, his hands now ginger and gentle over your skin, touching you like you've suddenly become glass. he sits at the end of the couch, pulling you into his lap. 

he's careful when he sits you down, aware that your ass still probably hurts. he lets you curl into his side, the last bit of trembling slowly leaving your body from what just happened. his palm runs up and down your back, feeling content at the way you rest on his chest. "feel okay?" he asks quietly, and you hum a sleepy yes. 

your hand rests on his chest, toying with the buttons. "you've always been a sweet girl," he says, feeling like he needs to clarify that, and you smile against his chest, feeling relief and giddiness at his admittance. "a messy one but, sweet nonetheless," he pats your back and you shoot him a joking glare. 

he holds you closer by tucking his hand under your thighs, cradling you into him. he kisses your temple, the first gentle action of the day. he tells himself he'll indulge in that more when he sees the smile that spreads across your cheeks. 

[rksses]

hmmm can u do gwen x fem!reader who’s really flirty jokingly or not and how’d she react to that

LUDIQUE FLIRTS

fluff : reader & gwen are friends with early stages of feelings for eachother, ykwim!! reader's a tease, gwen loves it (& her <3), quick oneshot ... lmk if yall want more characters w/ the same prompt (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

a/n : OFCCC i've been looking for an excuse to write gwen!!! this was kinda short but i really wanted to write something rn... ofc i might make this like a twoshot or threeshot... just for my bae gwen <3 this was just a thought that came into my mind after i saw ur request but i'll do i different part of this because i don't know if i really life this one

gwen is literally such a sweetheart.

the first time you had a conversation was when gwen had asked you if you had wanted to do a little study sesh with her for mid-terms. you had been assigned to be her lab partner and she didn't really do friends after ykw, so she had decided you were the next best thing.

turns out, you'd be moving up on that list to be the very best thing pretty soon.

being the only spiderwoman in her dimension while also having to try to not fail in school was hard on her. luckily for her, she always had you to take some stress off of her.

you, being the bright and smart student you are, helped her greatly through her academics, lending her notes and such as she often had to skip class to attend to her spider duties.

it was the little things you'd do that would mean the most to her. she noticed everything. those spider senses have their regular life advantages too.

she would catch you subtly sneaking glances at her in the middle of class, occasionally returning the glance as you smiled back at her, trying to play it off (it didn't work).

there were times when she was overworked and just overall done. and you were there to make things better.

"falling for me already, beautiful?" you softly smiled at a tired, overworked gwen in your arms. she had bumped into you and you could tell you had caught her off-guard by the way she quickly got up and her face flushed bright red as she mumbled a quick apology to you.

she was TIRED and even you can tell.

"ya need help?" you asked the blonde. "uh, yeah. that'd actually be a huge help, thanks." she said looking up at you, face still slightly dusted pink, matching the very ends of her hair. she passed a thick white book to you and the two of you walked down the hall to her next class as you made small talk.

surprisingly enough, after all those study "dates" you still haven't even gotten her number. she was always so focused in the work she was doing and you couldn't find it in yourself to break her cute expression when she was 'in the zone' so you just simply didn't.

unfortunately for you, that meant that you weren't gonna get her number anytime soon, if you kept waiting.

"you free for lunch?" you asked, as you arrived at the door. "nope.. still gotta study some more. you know how it is, stressing for this 43 open-ended question bullshit." "hey, private school rules." you shrugged and looked down at her books, quickly recognizing the one you were holding. "you know, you could always borrow some of my notes even if you need 'em." you looked back up at her. "of course, you'd have to owe me a favor later."

"i'll... keep that in mind" she paused as if she wanted to say something. "see you."

so, you decided to just stop waiting for a perfect moment.

"don't be a stranger." you smirked.

she walked into her classroom and sat down in her chair as she set down her books on the desk before her. "alright, for today we will be reviewing page 322 to 368. flip to page 322 now." the teacher instructed.

gwen did as she was told and to her surprise was a little yellow sticky note stuck to the page.

"(xxx)xxx-xxxx call me. -y/n"

[chocotonez]

skz reacting to their s/o using their head as a drum

a/n: love it when you guys get creative because literally how would I have ever thought of this

warnings/genre: fluff, banter, uhhh using a head as a drum?? lmk if anything else should be tagged!

chan

-the awkward “haha babe ur so silly”

-slightly worried but slightly into the beat ur making tbh

-offers a worried :] smile, and thinks you’re adorable but also what even prompted this response??

-sorta overthinks it and is like “is everything okay?? are you bored? do you need my attention?”

-honestly doesn’t mind it very much unless he’s working hehe

-“ohhh wait, do that again it sounded good” “will you credit me in your next album??” **sigh**

lee know

-looks back up at you with a disgruntled expression as if you just insulted him

-“wtf are you doing” “why do you hate my music career” “because it sucks, get off my head”

-mostly joking, doesn’t care but he’d prefer you go explore your musical interests somewhere else

-tries so hard not to giggle if you hum along to a beat your making, will never admit how much it amuses him

-just lets you at it, maybe if he’s in a bad mood he would just gently swat your hand away but most of the time he just rolls his eyes and lets you…drum on his head

changbin

-turns it around and reaches up to drum on your head while laughing

-“haha how does it feel?? >:)”

-most of the time just takes it as a prompt to mess with you and pat your head to a beat

-first time he was definitely more ???, but if it becomes a habit he’ll just laugh it off

-genuinely doesn’t mind it compared to others, he thinks it’s kinda cute especially when you stand over him to just drum on his head or mess around

-looks up at you with a dumb smile and is sJWNDOWSJJS sorry anyways yeah he just loves you

hyunjin

-the one to grab your wrist, and then hold your hand to get you to stop

-he reaches up to hold your hand and he just gives you a squeeze to let you know he’s not like…mad, you’re just being silly

-“what? is my baby bored?” and he always laughs at your response, whether it be in agreement or a roll of your eyes

-doesn’t care as much if he’s tired, because he doesn’t have the energy to care and he’s also kinda lulling off because of the rhythmic tapping

-he doesn’t hate it, because it’s always a good excuse to hold your hand <3

han

-the more confused one, but doesn’t go out of his way to stop you LMAO

-every time he just looks at you like ??? because do you want something?? is this a torture method?? are you trying to mind control him or smth??

-spends his time just contemplating your possible hierarchy of needs while you’re dropping the sickest beat of 2023 on his head

-poor boy just doesn’t know what to do and just lets you go at it

-thinks it’s kinda cute anyways, if not strange, but still cute

felix

-gives a :> and just lets you have fun

-“what? trying to take my job?” “you know how much people would pay for a single that’s just someone using your head as a drum??” and he’s just giggling and he’s so cute I’m sobbing

-likes to randomly move his head so you miss and laughs because you stumble a bit and he thinks he’s so funny

-leans back so you can hold his face in your hands

-it’s not that he dislikes it, but he doesn’t like it either. there’s way better ways to entertain yourself, including just spooning him or giving him a kiss </3

seungmin

-another ??? wtf are you doing type

-probably starts knocking on his own head to see what the appeal is all about

-“shhh minnie i’m making music!!” “let me knock on your head to make sure it’s not hollow, because what in the world are you doing??”

-gives you a fake look of disgust but immediately bursts out laughing when he holds your gaze for too long, and just lets you at it

ot the biggest fan but when he looks up to see your smile, he has to fight the need to run laps and giggle n squeal about how cute u are

jeongin

-“wtf stop you’re gonna mess up my hair” “so you just hate my aspirations or being a musician??” “y/n.”

-leans on disliking it, another one who just reaches up to hold your hand to get you to stop

-“if you’re that bored do you wanna help me clean the dorm?” and you’re immediately o-O

-laughs when you drum his head because it’s just so?? stupid?? but it’s so funny and you’re also so cute?? it’s the most conflicting thing ever

-like how is he supposed to dislike this when you laugh all prettily and you’re smiling down on him like that :((

-unfair tbh

[subskz]

Hi rin!! It’s me, your fave anon ((hehe I’m jp.)) anyways, I just wanted to ask a small favor ! As you know, I struggle with finding the motivation to write and actually pull through and finish when I do start a fic 😭. (My wips Are out of control rn..but I wanna start something new!) I was hoping maybe you could give me a small prompt, and a member! I really love your Writing (we know this.) and this is gonna sound so corny, but your work inspires me to improve my own writing! I thought it could be the push I need to have motivation to actually start up again! (IF ITS TOO MUCH TO ASK DW, I WILL FIGURE IT OUT)

Hope You’re Doing Well hun!

-🫧

hello hello! PLEASE ur so cute haha it’s always a delight to see you!! though i’m sorry to hear motivation to write still hasn’t been coming in consistently, it’s definitely a neverending battle 💔 of course i’d be happy to throw out some ideas!! i’m not sure if you’d prefer sfw or nsfw so i’ll do a mix!

since channie is your ult maybe smth w him will spark inspiration!! i cant get his bbl messages where he was asking stays how he should dress out of my head so i think it’d be a fun idea to write abt clothes shopping w him! having him try on all the different outfits the reader picks out for him and, naturally, he’s a lil awkward n shy abt it esp when the compliments start coming in <3 and if ur looking to make it nsfw it could take a turn where the reader pulls him into one of the fitting rooms (or back home for less risk haha) and toys w him in front of the full-length mirror until he accepts all their praises

another idea i think works well for lix or jeongin…or hannie too! the reader using a fleshlight to teach him how to give head/fuck them properly, teasing him the entire time for how inexperienced he is n how quick he is to fall apart even w just a toy~

for another sfw option, smth else i never stop thinking abt is that day a few yrs ago when lixie sent like 50 voice msgs on bbl trying to learn how to do makeup from stays 😭 i think it’d be really cute to write abt applying makeup w him n leaving kisses all over each other’s faces <3 maybe even styling his hair and painting his nails too!

it doesn’t sound corny at all i’m so touched my writing could inspire you somehow ㅠㅠ i dont take that lightly, it really means a lot to me so thank you for saying that! i hope these lil prompts can get the creative juices flowing for u 😸 if you decide to write any of them and feel comfortable to share w me, please do!! (no pressure ofc) and if you’d like a more specific prompt just lmk ♡

[electrosspidey]

PAIRING: peter parker x fem!reader(could be gn!reader too I didn’t rly specify pronouns)

WARNINGS: peter being a lil douchy in the beginning, lil angst, unedited

WORD COUNT: 643 words

A/N: sooo hello again :) I haven’t written in a hot minute so this may suck lmao. also this was inspired by a prompt from this list!! anyway as always lmk if u have any feedback or requests :D that’s all!

GOING OUT ON PATROL and looking for crime was something very normal for Peter. He had been doing it since he was 15 and would most likely be doing it for a very long time. So it was safe to say it could get a little boring sometime. Peter would stop and sit on a random rooftop, sometimes preferring to look for crime from his bird's eye view rather than swinging throughout the city.

He was currently doing this, scanning the city for any trouble when he saw something that caught his eye. A slumped figure was slowly trudging down the sidewalk just below him. But that wasn’t what caught his eye. The lackluster hair? The terribly styled clothes? The overall foul aura? It had to be you.

Peter snickered diabolically and swung himself down to your level. He landed behind you and cockily straightened his posture.

A slightly evil grin overtook Peter’s face as ur snarled, “Y’know my sense we’re going really crazy and thought somethin’ terrible was going down here.” He then sighed dramatically. “Turns out it was just you.”

An awkward pause filled the air as Peter waited for your response. His grin faltered slightly. You buried your face in your hands and groaned loudly before spinning around to face Peter.

“Oh my god,” you laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe it! I was wrong-“

“I’m sorry, why is that surprising to you?”

“After everything that could have possibly gone wrong today, some how more could go wrong! You just had to show up! Y’just had to come and put the icing on the cake didn’t you?”

Peter’s expression soured into one of pure offense. “We’ll you’re grouchier than usual. What happened, your flying broomstick finally broke?”

“I know you’re obsessed with me or something but can you just leave me alone this one time?” You asked, your voice grating and filled with pure rage.

Peter ignored your comment. “Wait, something’s not right.” He gave you a quick once over. “Oh wow. You actually look kinda decent today. Well except for your makeup. It’s kinda smudged around your eyes. Like over here and here-“ he begins to motion with his hands.

“Yes I know that Peter!” You all but shout back at him.

The nice dress, the smudged makeup, your worse than usual mood suddenly connect the dots for him.

“Oh my god, you were stood up weren’t you. Were you stood up for a date?”

You groaned once again and harshly rubbed your face with your hands. Tears began to prick at the corner of your eyes as the humiliation you were feeling began creeping back up like bile in your throat.

“Yes I was stood up,” you mutter lowly, sniffling. “Go ahead, make fun of me. I know you’re going to.”

Peter’s mouth opened as he was about to say something truly insulting, but he stopped. He took in the sight of you. You looked like a kicked puppy, with your mascara and eyeliner smudged and your glossy tear filled eyes. You nervously picked at your nails as you awaited his taunts, already feeling embarrassed enough.

Something in Peter’s heart softened. He let out a deep sigh. “Y’know I may not like you very much, but I’m not heartless.

Your eyes flickered up to look at his face, holding much surprise in them. Peter grinned even though you couldn’t see it through the mask. “I know we have this whole thing going but I know getting stood up sucks.”

“What? Don’t look so astonished.” He admonished, putting his hand on his hips. I am your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man after all. It’s kinda my job to help damsels in distress,” he lilted, bowing slightly.

Surprising yourself and him, you let out a loud laugh at his theatrics.

A wide smile enveloped Peter’s face as he held our hand for you to take. “C’mon lemme take you home.”

Hope you enjoyed!

6.28.22

[hornime]

voyeurant | kenma kozume x f!reader

he tentatively wrapped a palm around the shaft, shuddering at the contact, his eyelids fluttering shut. god, i’m such a pervert, thinking about her like this. she’d hate me if she knew i saw her like that, knew that i was touching myself thinking about her tits...

warnings: 18+, timeskip!kenma, kinda dubcon, kenma’s unintentionally pervy, male masturbation, poorly written video game content (i tried my best), mutual pining but u both are oblivious

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: yes, the title is a shitty pun of valorant. no, i will not be changing it. also this tiktok about timeskip kenma made me giggle so pls enjoy.

voyeurant: part one ↓ | part two | part three:

“fuck, i hate this map,” kenma grumbled into his headset.

your voiced chimed in his ears. “is it ascent?” you turned to see his face on your screen, pinched in annoyance. “ha, it is ascent. sucks for you.”

“which one are you on? haven?”

“you know it,” you chuckled. “your favorite.”

“i hate you.” he weighed his options, did he really want to play this game? the layout of the world made it irritatingly hard to strategize, and today’s losing streak was making him more agitated than usual. with a sign, he closed the application. “fuck this. i’m gonna go piss.”

“yeah, yeah, you’re such a big baby. and...” you released your mouse, throwing your hands up in triumph, “we just won. at this point, i’m gonna outrank you.” you were joking, of course. kenma wasn’t just a gamer, he was kodzuken, one of japan’s best pro-gamers, and you were just someone that played as a hobby. but it was always fun to tease.

“hmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure you will.” he turned his head to look directly at his webcam, smirking, “in your dreams.”

“ooh, catboy’s getting feisty!” he flinched at the nickname. “go pee so i can beat you at your best.”

he obliged, pulling his headphones off and looping them on the top of his chair. he casually raised his middle finger at you while smoothing out strands of his hair, prompting a series of profanities to escape your mouth, none of which he could hear. he chuckled playfully as you responded with two middle fingers of your own, before moving out of the camera to get to the bathroom.

you and kenma had met in an... interesting way, to say the least. after going moderately viral from lashing out at him for refusing to heal you in a game of overwatch—while he was streaming—the two of you reconciled over a twitter thread and exchanged gamer tags. since then, you’d struck up an easygoing friendship, characterized by almost nightly discord calls and occasional flirting. but we’re just friends, you often reminded yourself. and you were fine, well, mostly fine, with that.

tonight was like any other night: both you and him spending hours in a video chat with nothing better to do than mindlessly play games and bash each other. it was more than enough to strengthen your relationship but fell short of giving you the romantic tension you craved.

with kenma off in the bathroom, you, already bored, spun wildly in your chair. forgetting that your earbuds were still plugged in, the white wire caught on an opened can of coke sitting on your desk, spilling the sugary drink all over your keyboard and the front of your shirt. 

“shit!” you quickly scrambled for paper towels, but the still-connected wire yanked you backwards. in your haste for something to wipe the soda with, the fact that your camera remained on in the video call completely slipped your mind. making the split-second decision that the trip for a towel wasn’t worth it at this point, you quickly whipped off your shirt, dabbing the keys with the part that was still dry. since you were home, you’d gone braless, and your current predicament had you flashing your webcam.

now, kenma had seen a lot of things from your side of the call: he’d seen you get chewed out by your residential advisor for being too loud, you with two sticks of pocky poking out of your mouth like walrus tusks, and you doing random cosplay moves you’d seen on tiktok. what he wasn’t expecting to see, not even in his wildest dreams, was a screenful of your tits, slightly damp from the cola that had seeped through the fabric of your long-gone shirt.

he stopped in his tracks, still out of the frame of his camera, eyes wide and heart racing, desperately trying to calm down and prevent the gradual hardening of his cock in his pants. unable to deny his desires, he continued staring at your plump breasts on his computer, you completely unaware that he could see you.

you quickly threw your soaked top in the laundry basket before throwing on a random sweatshirt and trying to calm your frazzled nerves. you tentatively touched your keyboard, groaning internally when you fingers lightly stuck to the buttons. it’s gonna take forever to clean this, you mourned.

“hey,” kenma mumbled, reappearing on screen and shaking you out of your thoughts.

“hey.” you noticed his flushed expression. “are you okay? you look really red.”

“uh, yeah. i actually uh, i feel kinda sick. so i’m gonna, gonna go.”

“oh, okay.” why’s he acting so weird? “feel better!” you disconnected from the call with a huff, disappointment morphing your face into a pout. well, you thought, better get to cleaning.

kenma, on the other hand, was still, swallowing as the bulge in his boxers became agonizingly hard. though the only thing left on his screen was his reflection staring back at him, the luscious view of your bust was etched in his mind. his hands moved to free his cock, the tip an angry red and smearing pre-cum over the waistband of his underwear. 

he tentatively wrapped a palm around the shaft, shuddering at the contact, his eyelids fluttering shut. god, i’m such a pervert, thinking about her like this. she’d hate me if she knew i saw her like that, knew that i was touching myself thinking about her tits...

“fuck,” he whined, slowly stroking up and down. his thighs trembled as he fell back into his chair, mind wandering. he couldn’t stop himself, his thoughts become more and more lewd, fantasizing about how your breasts would bounce as he thrusted into you, how your thighs would wrap warmly around your head as he ate you out, how you’d cry out his name so prettily when he made you squirt around his fingers.

it was all too much, and as the circle he made with his fingers tightened as he reached his tip, he lurched forward, alarmed at how good everything felt just by thinking about you. i can’t cum, i can’t, the small part of his brain that wasn’t completely overtaken with pleasure tried to reason with him. there’s no going back if i—shit—if i cum. she’ll know, somehow, if i—if i cum, i—

the ecstasy kept clouding his judgement and his body worked against his mind as his hand pumped faster and faster while his conscience screamed to stop. his wrist wetly slapped the base of his cock, the sounds of both his hands and his moans getting too loud for comfort, but all he could think about was you. your eyes, your mouth, your chest, your legs, your ass, your pussy. god, he wanted to be in you so badly.

he couldn’t hold back, his insatiable need to cum overriding his senses, and the translucent liquid twitched out of his throbbing cock in spurts, drenching his fist and his balls. “fuck, fuck, fuck. i’m—fuck.”

he collapsed against the back of his chair, chest heaving with the sheer intensity of his orgasm. he combed a hand through his hair, the consequences of his actions now weighing heavily on his shoulders. i’m never gonna be able to look at her in the eyes again, he lamented. how am i ever gonna—damn it. 

the sudden ping of a notification had his eyes raising from the mess on his pants towards his computer screen. 

meanwhile, you were messaging kenma, a little off-put by his sudden radio silence but chalking it all up to his mysterious sickness.

[11:05 PM] you: hey ken! hope u feel better

[11:05 PM] you: if u get the chance u should check out what i added to our minecraft house. its perfect for sick victorian orphans like u

[12:14 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: why arent u responding

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: ok u got me ill tell u

[12:05 PM] you: its a hot tub

[12:05 PM] you: but with soup

[12:05 PM] you: but the soup is lava

[12:05 PM] you: genius right

[12:06 PM] you: anyway get some sleep and feel better <3

[12:06 PM] you: lmk if u wanna play animal crossing

[12:06 PM] you: actually no u should sleep. rest ur eyes and shit

[12:06 PM] you: no animal crossing for u!

[12:06 PM] you: sleep well so i can destroy ur ass in val tmrw

[12:06 PM] you: >:)

he sighed as he read your one-sided ramblings. he really liked you.

and he really wanted to fuck you. lucky for you, you wanted the exact same thing. 

if only kenma knew what you did on the other side of the screen, hands in your undies and his name on your lips...

>> part two

© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.

[cow-smells]

Jealousy Games [Part 2] ( Demetri x reader )

Request: Hi can u do prompt #3 from ur prompt list with demetri ? (anon)

Prompt: 3.  “You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?”

A/N: fully intended this to be shameless smut, but alas, the plot took over. smut will be in the next part ;)

Words: 1536

Warnings: nothing really, suggestive themes at most.

Part 1

Summary: A storm forces the reader to stay at Demetri's; unfortunately, he's not the only one after her company.

Read this on AO3

    “Thanks for letting me stay for dinner,” you gracefully thank Demetri's mom. You had gotten to know her once you started coming over to Demetri's a couple of months ago to “study” and it was clear she liked you, always inviting you to stay for dinner and urging you to come visit more often. “I should be getting home.”

    “In this weather?” she peered out the dining room window; it had begun to hail. It had begun raining earlier that day but you couldn't be bothered by it, much too busy with Demetri to even consider the weather outside or how you were to navigate home in it. “Certainly not. Call your mother, tell her you're staying here for the night. She'll understand, no parent would want their child driving on that ice. You can stay in Demetri's room and Demetri can take the couch.”

You gave Demetri a passing look so quick it almost didn't happen; you didn't want to show his mom just how eager you were to stay. “Okay,” you agreed. “Yeah, I'll go call her real quick.”

You took to the privacy of Demetri's room to notify your mum about your plans, to which she agreed, not willing to let you risk the dangerous ride home.

    “So?” Demetri asks as her enters his room a few minutes after you did, shutting the door behind himself. You grinned, pleased.

    “All clear.” you wrap your arms around Demetri's neck, pulling him down for a passionate kiss. You shiver in to him, enjoying the way his hands glide down to the small of your back, holding you close. After a minute he pulls away, clearing his throat.

    “This is... really great, but I actually came to fetch you. My mom wondered if we want to see a movie all together, and... You know my mom. It's not much of a question.”

You grinned cheekily, assuming this was her way of keeping tabs on you both. “Sure,” you agreed. “I'd love that.”

    It's nearly an hour in to the movie when Hawk starts blowing up your phone. The living room's lights were off, supposed to immerse you further in to the movie you were watching, but inevitably emphasizing the brightness of your phone screen to an unignorable point.

You picked up your phone when it began to ring. Seeing it was just Hawk, you silenced the call and put your phone back down on the coffee table, assuming that would be it. You didn't notice Demetri's eyes darting to your phone when you had picked it up before, you leaning a little further in to him as you leaned your back back on to the sofa.

It was two minutes later that your phone lit up again with Hawk's name, your ringtone blaring. “Sorry,” you apologized to no one in particular, silencing the call one more, this time putting your phone on mute and leaving it by your side so you could monitor it quicker.

Demetri tensed by your side, agitation creeping up in him. He knew you were friendly with the Cobra Kai's, but he didn't know to what extent your friendship with Eli went. He bit his plump bottom lip, trying and failing not to think about what might be going on between you two. Eli already had everything Demetri wanted; friends, confidence, courage. He didn't know what he'd do if he'd get you too.

Your phone keeps lighting up until the movie is finished, texts from your friends coloring the screen.

    (20:45) Hawk👊: Where the fuck are you? Pick up.

   (20:52) Hawk👊: We're all going to Aisha's to hang until the storm's over.

                              Send me your location, I'll come pick you up.

    (21:07) Aisha💕: Whats up? Hawk said you aren't answering him.

                                Come overrrrrrr!

    (21:15) Hawk👊: Y/N!

    (21:23) Tory: Wya?

   (21:35) Aisha💕: For the love of God, please answer Hawk

                            He's driving us all mad

   (22:01) Hawk👊 : I'm coming over

The final text came as credits started rolling, much to your relief. You took your phone in your hands to answer when Demetri's mom rose, stretching her arms up high with a yawn. “Well, I'm calling it a night. I expect you two to do the same soon, yes?” You both agreed – and with that, She left.

You typed a reply.

   To: Hawk 👊

   (22:03)     You're drunk. Don't come over. I'll talk to you Monday :)

Demetri looked away, trying to decide what he was to do. He couldn't help overseeing your texts, you were right beside him after all; and if he was to be completely honest, his insecurity was rising beyond levels he was comfortable with. It was one thing swaying you away from your fantasies about Sensei Lawrence; that was schoolgirl wishful thinking, at best. But Hawk? Hawk was readily available, practically in your hands already.

And you – you were going to “talk to him on Monday”. What about? Demetri's anxiety pestered him. Would you rather be with Hawk right now, only with him because you were stuck there?

    As if to solidify the thought, Hawk called you once more right after he read your text – and this time, you answered.

    “Hey.” Demetri grew restless in his seat, seeing you smile to yourself as you heard the other boys voice. “No, no, no... No, I'm serious!” despite your words, you chuckled. Demetri felt sick. “You're obviously drunk. I can hear it in your voice! Don't worry about me. Just stay at Aisha's. Promise?” you cooed at Hawk through the phone, as though he were a child. “Okay. Yeah. I'll text you tomorrow. Give Aisha a kiss from me.” You roared laughing at something Hawk said. Demetri rose, not finding the comfort to be able to stay still any longer. “Have fun... Bye.” with that, you hung up the call, a smile still gracing your features.

    “You guys are really close, huh?” Demetri asked, halting his pacing.

    “Um, I wouldn't say close. Friends, I guess.”

    “You -” Demetri stopped himself, reconsidering his words. “He obviously wants you.”

    “Um -” you began, disbelief on your face. “I – don't think so. Besides, what's that even matter? I'm here with you.”

With a grin, you reach out to pull Demetri to you, looking up at him. His brow was still furrowed with concern; you wanted to kiss it all away. How could he still not tell how you felt about him, only him?

    “Is this even where you want to be?”

Your smile widens before you plant a gentle kiss on Demetri's hipbone. “No where else.”

With that, you rise to stand too. “So, are you gonna offer me pajamas or do you expect me to sleep in a skirt?”

Demetri's eyes widened, at what thought exactly you weren't sure. “Uhh - Of course. You can choose out anything you want from my closet, I'll wait here. Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

    “Okay,” you agree cheerfully and turn on your heel to his room, amused by the privacy Demetri was granting you so gentlemanly-like, as though he hadn't experienced much more of you just hours prior.

You closed the door after yourself, leaving you all alone in Demetri's room for the very first time. You trailed a finger along his desk until you reached his closet, ready to dig through until you'd find his comfiest-looking hoodie. But then, seeing one of your favorite t-shirts of his, a different idea came to mind.

Rummaging through piles of neatly folded clothes to get it, your hand scratched itself on something when you retracted it, shirt in hand.

Curiosity spiked, you burrowed through the piles to find a golden line of condoms hidden.

    It would seem as though Demetri remembered what he was hiding too, as a sudden knock on the door startled you, prompting you to hide the condoms where you found them.

    “Y/n?” Demetri's voice called from the other side of the door, loud enough for you to hear but hushed enough to not wake his mom up. “Are you – um – finding everything alright?”

You giggled to yourself, the nervous undertone to Demetri's words obvious; he wanted to know if you found what you had without asking directly.

    “Yeah,” you gleefully replied. “Give me a minute.”

Quickly stripping off all of your clothes, you toss on a green shirt adorned with a large pai sign splayed on its front. The hem of the shirt reached the middle of your thighs, with Demetri being so much taller than you. You took a deep breath, stepping to stand in front of the bed before calling, “You can come in now.”

Tentatively, Demetri opened the door. His eyes couldn't help but rake over your body, from your bare legs all the way up to his t-shirt. He swallowed hard, trying to burn the image of you in to his mind.

He suddenly noticed the pile of clothes you left on the floor; notedly, the pair of panties peeking beneath your discarded skirt.

    “You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?” Demetri asked, his big blue-green eyes widening in awe.

    You smile michevously. “No.”

---

Tag list: @lllyyysss02  @deadpvet lmk if you want on :)

[yelenasdog]

hurricane (brian may x fem reader)

request by the wonderful @speciallyred w prompts 45 and 58 from this prompt list! i was super nervous to write this bc i love her writing but i hope u enjoy!!

genre: per request of anna, angsty! but it ends w some fluff to mend ur broken heart hehe

summary: he’s never home, and neither is she. he can’t communicate, and she just wants to be loved.

words: 1.5k this was supposed to b a drabble OOPS

warnings: crying, sadness, mentions of marriage+kids, mentions and accusations of cheating, i think that’s it but as always, lmk if i missed any!

a/n: ok so a. y/n wasn’t used so if u wanted this do bri x some other female or oc that would work, and b. i also didn’t use anything that would keep this from being able to be read as a gwil!bri fic :) mwah (also i just realized this but this could totally be a song fic for i want love by elton john ok bye luv u)

 ⭑ 🎸

It was deathly silent in the spacious former home of Brian and his beloved, that had now been reduced to only a house. The ticking of the grandfather clock he had insisted that they had to have when they moved in could be heard ringing out and echoing, pestering the girl to no end.

It was always quiet in their house, even when they fought. There was never a rushed bustle of children you had to get out the door to school, and not even a cat or dog to create a disruptive chaos as they ran about, muddy paws leaving marks on the floor.

There would be the occasional record playing lowly, the notes floating about the house, and sometimes if she couldn’t sleep, she would have Bri play her a soft tune on his old acoustic, his voice having no issue bringing her to rest.

But even now, during one of the most heart wrenching fights that the pair had gone through, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop on the hardwood flooring.

As Brian was a soft and gentle man, never yelling or raising his voice in the slightest. He wasn’t mean or cruel, in fact, his entire aura calmed her to no end, which is why she supposed she hated this so much.

She scanned with careful eyes over his silhouette, watching as stray curls rustled from the draft coming in from the open window, goosebumps raising on both of their exposed arms.

“What are you looking at?”

“Just you, Bri.”

He rolled his eyes from where he sat on the white sofa, moving his fist under his chin. A scoff fell from his rosy lips as he turned his head to look out the window, not actually paying any mind to the green hills, a light frost covering the entire landscape.

“So are you just going to ignore me?”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

A salty tear rolled down her face, the incoming breeze hitting her dampened face. She inhaled sharply, her chilled skin becoming slimy and cold to the touch.

Brian wouldn’t know that, though, he hadn’t touched her in days. Weeks, even.

She had wanted to say that his words were malicious, with venom dripping from his tone, like some sort of acid was coating his vocal cords.

But they weren’t. His voice never raised a damn octave, staying completely neutral. And it was driving her mad.

“Then what is this, Brian?”

“I’m collecting my thoughts.”

She laughed, the sound lacking its usual melodic intonation that the guitarist adored so much. He was the reasoning behind the dry chuckle, that much he knew, and he hated it. God, how he despised it. But, he would never let it show. How could he, when he was the initiator of the (extremely childish, now that he thought over it) conflict to begin with? He knew his accusation was emptier than the large building they resided in, and he knew that the results would be horrendous.

But jealousy was an ugly green parasite that had rooted itself in Brian May’s heart, slowly consuming him from the inside out. It was like a devil that rested on his left shoulder, insisting that she was unfaithful, taking advantage of his extended leaves. He foolishly acted on the devil’s words, which led to where they were now.

“Well, how long do you need to ‘collect your thoughts’?” She folded her leg under her opposite thigh, leaning towards him, the distance of only a few feet feeling like worlds away to her broken heart. She would always be drawn to him like some sort of magnet, no matter how badly he hurt her.

“I’m not sure, would you like me to do so elsewhere?”

A beat passed.

“Why, so you can go shag someone else, just like I apparently have been?”

Again, silence.

“You were gone for 3 hours every night on every Tuesday the past month-“

“You kept track? You’re out of your damn mind.” She raised her voice, sitting up, suddenly enraged with his obsessive distrust rather than saddened.

“That’s not important-“

“What’s important is that you’re gone on tour for 10 times as long as that, leaving me here completely alone to my own devices! I trust you enough to believe that you remain mine while you’re away, but for some unknown reason, you can’t manage to think the same about me.”

His flippancy on the issue at hand agitated her (or his lack thereof in general, she supposed) to no end. She wanted him to scream and cry, to throw something, to loudly shout, to shed fury fueled tears as she had. She knew it was wrong, but quite frankly she didn’t care.

He tried to speak up for himself, stuttering out something about how he did in fact trust her, but all to no avail. She would have none of it, not now.

“What’s important, Brian, is that every Tuesday, I’m staying 3 hours after work to try to make it so that I don’t have to rely on you for money, because I don’t want you to think even for a moment I’m with you just because you’re some incredibly famous rockstar who happens to be loaded!”

She was standing now, although she couldn't quite remember bringing her body from the comforts of the soft chair by the mantle to her feet. The roaring fire beside her had died down into a flurry of golden embers, heat still radiating from the pile of charred logs, Brian failing to provide even a fraction of the same warmth.

“Because I love you, and as of late, I’m starting to wonder if you love me too.”

He stood, walking over to where she was in a timely manner, his long legs carrying him quickly. Her breath hitched at their sudden proximity, her surprise only growing when he gripped his hands on either side of her face, pulling her forward and capturing her lips in a long awaited union.

She loathed that her stiff figure was melting into him faster than she would like to admit, and she even more, she loathed the fact she knew she always would.

He was able to taste her tears that hadn’t ceased to roll down her face, the bitter droplets seeping onto the tip of his tongue. He pulled away, his right hand caressing her cheekbone while his forehead rested upon hers. His bottom lip quivered, a wave of emotions hitting him like a hurricane in full force.

His eyes become glassy, and all at once, tears flood his eyesight, pouring down his flushed features. He looked down, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. The bawling didn’t stop as he had hoped, though, it just slowed, the liquid dropping onto her shirt.

“I love you, I love you so much that it hurts. And ’m sorry, I’m so incredibly sorry, darling.”

She smiled softly, lightly massaging the top of his scalp, his locks growing frizzy.

“I know. But it’s just so hard- It seems everyone is getting married, and settling down. Hell, even Fred has his cats.”

They both laughed, and she chewed her bottom lip, a habit of hers that Bri had picked up on in the time he’d known her.

“I just get lonely, Bri, and it feels like you never let me know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. That’s all, honest to God.”

They moved to sit down, and he pulled closer than they had been in ages.

“I’ll support you in any way shape or form, no matter what, yeah?”

She simply nodded, leaning onto his shoulder.

“Yeah. I know.”

Raising his eyebrows, he cocked his head, choosing his next words carefully.

“And if you’re serious about, y’know, having a family and ‘settling down’ and everything, I’ll do it.”

She met his eyes, her smile growing wider.

“Really?”

He hummed, nodding his head. “I love you, and this house is far too quiet.”

She giggled, tossing her arms around his neck and throwing herself on him.

“I must say I agree.”

After the grins had retreated into soft smiles, and the two had come to a much more stolid point, she sat up, patting her lap.

Brian understood immediately, laying his tired head down and allowing her to play with his hair. She moved her hands to oh so lightly trace the crook of his nose and the bags under his eyes (from the late nights he spent performing, wishing he was in the exact position he was in now), the ticklish feeling making him nuzzle into her hand with a whine.

She couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful boy beneath her, as even with all the work that there was to be done between them, she felt confident that he was in it for the long haul.

🦔⭑ 🎸

me @ u for reading that

ty for reading, like and rb if u wanna :) go drink some water and eat some protein if u can!

as always, xx hj <3

[timep3tals]

ur stories are to die for 😍😍 ive got a tiny prompt with tony taking his babies to the doctor for check ups or whatever (Peter whines he’s too old now to still be seeing the pediatrician but he never denies the lollipop he gets after each visit)

thank you thank you!! 

Considering Tony has a five year old daughter, he would’ve thought Morgan would’ve been the one to kick up a fuss about going to the doctor. Turns out, Peter decided to be the problem child for once and (for a good few hours) flat out refused to go see the doctor. When Tony asked why, he got a mumbled response that he only caught snippets of, like, “Spider-Man,” and “too old for a baby doctor”.

See, the issue was, the kid was sick. Pretty badly sick, actually, and had both Tony and himself running on fumes after being up all night throwing up.

Of course Tony felt bad for him, Peter was quite clearly miserable. His face was flushed, pinched with pain, and he was running a temperature that made Tony’s heart skip a beat. Which is why, despite Peter’s better attempts at protesting being taken to the doctor, his grouchy ass ended up sitting on one of the typical crinkly doctor office beds, glaring ferociously at Tony as the pediatrician swabbed him for the flu.

To absolutely no one’s shock, Peter was positive for Type B. By the time he was prescribed Tamiflu (Tony sent Helen a message and asked to up the dosage to a level compatible with Peter’s metabolism, so his body didn’t eat up the medicine before it could be useful), Peter was still pouting. Tony would be impressed with his tenacity if he wasn’t so damn tired.

Peter was kicking at the ground as they checked out. A little irritated with his kid’s attitude, Tony picked up a lollypop from the basket and waved it in front of Peter’s face.

“Does the big boy want a lollipop?” he asked.

The glare intensified. Peter reached out and snatched the lollipop from the air more aggressively than strictly necessary. “You suck,” he said as he stuffed the lollipop in his mouth. “This was so embarrassing.”

“Kid, you can come to a pediatrician until you’re like, twenty-one. There’s no difference except the adult doctors don’t give lollipops out.”

Peter’s eyes widened. Tony’s head fell back with a loud bark of laughter at the look of absolute horror on the teen’s face. “Mr. Stark, it’s not funny! They don’t give out lollipops? That’s the best part, stop laughing—”

Tag List: 

@keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @riseuplikeglitterandgold @just-the-daydreamer @roaringgay @serendipity–goddess @tony-wheres-my-supersuit @baloobird @spider-beep @swagfictonreadingnerd @tcny-stcrks @josywbu @zuusiee @as-clear-as-crystal (lmk if u wanna be added!)

[sadrien]

goodbyes & hellos

on ao3

im so so so late but hey this is for first day of prompt week for @thinkoutsidethelovesquare​!!!! day one: wrong number

this was a lot of fun tbh and ive been dying to write this ship. alyas texts are italicized, adriens are underlined on ao3, just bold here bc tumblrs a butt. shoutout to @reyxa​ for the title <3

enjoy!

Alya narrows her eyes at the new message that lights up her phone. It’s an unknown number that she doesn’t recognize — not that she’s given her number to anyone recently — and it’s also seven in the morning . Anyone how knows her at all should know that she doesn’t wake up before at least nine on the weekends. (And that has nothing to do with the fact that she doesn’t sleep during the week and tends to go to bed after two in the morning.)

She groans as another message shows up on the screen. She squints and lets the messages flow in, figuring she can tell the person they’ve got the wrong number after they’ve finished whatever they have to say. Or she can decide that it’s unimportant and ignore it and go back to sleep.

She likes her second plan the best.

unknown number: Hi!

unknown number: Just wanted to let you know the start time for today has been moved from 10 to 9:15

unknown number: My father has a meeting at 1300 so he wants to get it all done as soon as possible

unknown number: And I know you mentioned wanting to have him on set yesterday

unknown number: I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience! Your agent should be calling you soon, but I thought I’d give you a heads up

Alya squints at the screen. She doesn’t want to care but she’s curious. And curiousity killed the cat and all that but she’s used to letting her nosiness get the best of her.

unknown number: agents???

unknown number: 1st of all srry u have the wrong number

unknown number: 2nd of all were u talking to a movie star or smth???????

unknown number: book writer??

unknown number: what kinda person needs an agent

unknown number: Oh I’m sorry! I must’ve gotten the wrong number from someone

unknown number: I’m really sorry if I was bothering you

Alya rolls her eyes.

unknown number: u woke me up but its chill cause now im curious

unknown number: Curious? About what?

unknown number: way 2 keep avoiding the question

unknown number: ???

unknown number: u said the person u meant to text has an agent

unknown number: how fancy r they

unknown number: Oh! She’s a model!

Alya’s eyes widen. The most famous person she knows is that thirteen year old that was in her school who has ten thousand subscribers on YouTube because she makes lyric videos. The second is a boy who has a few thousand instagram followers because he has nice abs and lots of white boy clothing and muscle shirts.

unknown number: u kno a model????????

unknown number: Uhh

unknown number: I’m not sure how much personal information I should be giving to a stranger

Alya sighs. So close.

unknown number: its fine dude (dude? u good w that? lmk if u arent) i getchu

unknown number: u can just stop responding if u dont wanna talk

She locks her phone and slides it back under her pillow. She stares at the ceiling for a few more minutes, wondering if she’ll be able to fall back asleep. As much as she’d like to take the train back to dreamville, she can’t. Because now she’s awake and now she’s wondering. And once she stops wondering, she doesn’t stop.

She’ll probably stop thinking about this random wrong number in a few days and in a few months, she’ll forget about them entirely but…

Ugh.

Sleep definitely isn’t an option anymore.

Leaving her phone in her bed, she pads to the kitchen, twisting her hair up into a messy bun as she does so. No one is up yet — of course they aren’t, it’s seven on a Saturday and everyone is taking advantage of every precious minute of sleep they can get — so she has the run of the house to herself.

So she makes herself some coffee and a bowl of cereal and turns to television on. Her initial plan is to just leave it on whatever channel that’s playing when she first turns it on, and luckily the twins were the last ones to use it. Saturday morning cartoons. Score.

Alya stirs sugar in her coffee as Cyber Chase plays in the background. It’s not much more than background noise, it’s the middle of an episode and she doesn’t really know what’s happening, but she does snort at a few of the bad jokes.

“You’re up early,” her mom says before dropping a kiss on the top of Alya’s head.

Alya hums. “Got a few text messages and they woke me up.” She notes how her mom purposefully avoids eye contact as she opens a cabinet. Alya rolls her eyes and eats a spoonful of cereal.

“School friends?” her mom asks carefully.

“Yes,” Alya lies. Better than her mom asking more questions. The biggest one being why were you talking to a complete stranger?

“Are you going to see them before we leave?”

Alya glues her eyes to the TV. “If they’re around.”

Her mom makes an unimpressed sound and Alya resists the urge to roll her eyes. She texted a few of her friends the other week, but the conversation was awkward and stilted. They all had the same sort of idea about cutting ties.  

Alya sighs and puts down her spoon, twisting around in her seat to face her mom. “I promise I’m talking to them.”

Her mom gives her that look— the one where her lips purse and a crease between her eyebrows that’s becoming more and more permanent; the one that says she wants to push for more details, but won’t unless they’re volunteered first. Which Alya is not doing, thank you very much. “If you say so, honey,” her mom says, turning her attention to the breakfast she’s making.

Alya stares down into her cereal bowl.

Time to evacuate to her bedroom.

She finishes her cereal as quickly as she can without choking and dumps her bowl and spoon in the sink as she passes it, taking her coffee with her to her room. New plan: curl up in bed with her laptop and hope her mom just leaves her alone until they move.

Alya’s almost forgotten about her phone by the time she flops onto her bed. It vibrates almost as soon as she opens her laptop. She frowns as she pulls it out from under her pillow.

unknown number: Dude is fine for me

unknown number: He/him pronouns please

unknown number: Thanks for asking I really appreciate it, actually

unknown number: People don’t always ask

Plan trashed. This is a better plan.

unknown number: she/her for me

unknown number: and no prob man

unknown number: i wasnt gonna assume ur gender

unknown number: ok that mightve sounded bad but i didnt mean it in a bad way like the ‘lol dont assume my gender’ way jerks do sometime i meant it in like a genuine

unknown number: if u have smth u wanna say u should say it because i am very tired and i can go on for a while

Whoops.

Alya can’t say she’s known for her stellar first impressions but she usually doesn’t ramble her way into an awkward corner. She mindlessly flips through apps as she waits for a response.

unknown number: Don’t worry about it! I didn’t take it the wrong way or anything

Alya smiles to herself as she responds. He keeps leaving her openings which is nice. Based off his initial reaction, she thought he’d shut this down as fast as possible.

She realizes this is probably a little weird. But it’s the most exciting thing to happen to her since school let out so…

unknown number: so whats up stranger??

unknown number: b4 u ask im just sitting in my room doing nothing but text u so thats my morning

unknown number: I actually have work soon, so that’s fun

Alya raises her eyebrows. She forgot age was something else she didn’t know yet.

unknown number: oo work that sounds fun

unknown number: what do u do???

unknown number: I work for my dad, it isn’t anything special

unknown number: But it gives me something to do with my time so I don’t mind that much

unknown number: If I randomly stop responding without warning, that’s why

unknown number: good 2 kno

unknown number: can i ask what u do 4 ur dad or is that 2 personal

unknown number: I uh… I just do whatever he needs me to do

unknown number: I don’t get paid or anything but

unknown number: ay it still works as a resume builder

unknown number: Yeah exactly!

unknown number: thats cool that ur dad can get u a job!! my mom and dad could never w their jobs so i just suffer

unknown number: not that thats any different from what i would do anyway as a teenager

Alright, perfect. She’s brought up the age question in a really clunky and awkward way. Better than nothing.

unknown number: Oh how old are you?

unknown number: I’m 15

Alya lets out a sigh of relief.

unknown number: ayy same!

unknown number: just ur fav teenage superhero blogger

unknown number: doing nothing with her life

unknown number: You like superheroes?

unknown number: yeah!! i love comic books. you??

unknown number: I don’t have time to read many but yeah! I’ve always loved Spiderman

unknown number: wonder woman is my g i r l

unknown number: superheroes are just so cool

She waits a few minutes before she decides that he must have gone off to work. Bonding over superheroes, that’s good. A shared interest. She scrolls through their conversation, rereading some of the earlier messages before she creates a contact for him. She makes the name ‘stranger’ and leaves it at that.

It’s not like they’re meeting up or anything. Even if he is an ax murderer, can’t kill her if she never sends him her location.

Alya spends the next couple of hours avoiding her mom as much as possible. She takes her sisters to the park and then goes to the library after she brings them home.

She doesn’t want to talk about it.

She’s clicking through a webcomic that she missed a few weeks worth of updates when her phone buzzes. She glances down, expecting it to be a text from her mom asking if she has any plans or to do chores or something, but is pleasantly surprised to see a message from her stranger.

stranger: Sorry about that, work ran long

stranger: Admittedly, I don’t know very much about Wonder Woman, but she looks very awesome

unknown number: !!!!

unknown number: when ive got more time remind me to tell u all abou t her

unknown number: and to rec some comic books even if u dont have time

stranger: Is she your favorite?

Alya sits back in her chair. This conversation is going to be a long one.

Alya finds herself randomly texting her stranger for the next few days. He doesn’t always respond quickly, but he responds eventually, no matter how weird her original message.

That’s more than she can say for most of her friends.

She texts him as she’s sitting on the counter in her kitchen, stirring a pot.

unknown number: hey stranger whats up

stranger: Just reading, you?

unknown number: making box mac n cheese

stranger: Sounds fun

unknown number: yeah im gonna eat it straight from the pot

The three dots bounce on the screen as the stranger takes his time with the next message. Alya snorts and turns off the stove, straining the pasta and moving to the fridge to find butter and cheese. He’s found his words by the time she’s letting the butter melt in the pot.

stranger: Straight from the pot? Why?

unknown number: because i live life on the edge

unknown number: and also because im too lazy to clean the dish later

stranger: You know what? That’s fair

Sometimes, Alya thinks that she probably shouldn’t think about someone who she doesn’t even know the name of as often as she does, let alone text him as much as she does. But sometimes she’ll see something, and she’ll immediately think of him. Or she’ll just be randomly upset and feel the strong urge to pick up the phone and see if he’s available to vent to.

She knows it’s kind of weird, but she can’t help herself.

One night, at around two in the morning, she finds herself messaging him.

unknown number: hey did i ever mention i was moving

She’s almost asleep, slightly more okay than she was before she sent the text, when he responds.

stranger: You haven’t but we also don’t talk about where we live

Alya stares at the screen for a long moment, the bright light in the darkness making everything on the screen blur into nothing. She just feels kind of numb.

unknown number: yeah

unknown number: like 8 hours away from where i live now

stranger: Wow that’s a big move

unknown number: yeah

stranger: I’m guessing you don’t want to go?

unknown number: not really

unknown number: did u know ur my only friend right now

stranger: I am?

unknown number: me and my other friends sort of cut ties

stranger: The internet exists

stranger: Phones exist

stranger: FaceTime and Skype both kind of suck, but they exist

unknown number: yeah i guess

unknown number: i guess its just too hard for any of us to try

stranger: I have no idea how far apart we live

stranger: We’re doing just fine

unknown number: yeah

unknown number: yeah ur right

One of Alya’s small comforts that comes to mind whenever she thinks about moving is the fact that she’ll have her phone on her and a portable charger. Her stranger will be with her every step of the way.

He’d managed to get her to talk to some of her friends. She doesn’t really think it’ll last once she’s in Paris, but the attempt is nice. And it gives her other people to talk to for the rest of the summer.

It’s too early in the morning when they leave for the last time for her to get really emotional about moving. All she has the energy to do is to take a picture of her old apartment, caption it ‘one last goodbye to marseille’, and save it before sending it to her friends over Snapchat. Before she falls asleep against the car window, she texts it to her stranger.

She wakes up to a new text among the goodbyes from her friends.

stranger: Have a nice car ride! I’ll let you know when I get back from work <3

Alya hides her smile from her sisters and screenshots the text for later.

She texts him from the floor of her new bedroom while her dad starts moving boxes. They’ve been in the process of moving for a while now, shipping most of their things to Paris beforehand. Now all that remains is the actual unpacking.

Alya doesn’t have the energy for that. She just lays on the floor and stares at the ceiling for a while. Then she picks up her phone and sends him a text.

It’s been about an hour since they last talked. She’d talked to him for a good majority of the car ride, only stopping when he was busy and ending the conversation when they arrived so she could get her things out of the car and help her sisters with theirs. She’d sent him a picture of her empty bedroom and said ‘let the unpacking begin :P’. He’d responded with a ‘Good luck!!’ and ‘I’ll let you get to work!’

Alya’s thumb hovers over the send button for a few seconds. She’s never really pushed him for any sort of personal information before.

New city, new Alya. Or something.

unknown number: hey just wondering

unknown number: what do u have me in ur phone as??

unknown number: i have u in here as stranger

stranger: Your contact name?

stranger: Uh awkward but you don’t?

stranger: You’re the only one I just have the number for, so I know who you are that way

Alya reads his texts a few times before she responds. She doesn’t know what she expects in return, but she figures she has nothing to lose.

unknown number: im alya

unknown number: in case u were wondering

stranger: Hi Alya

stranger: I’m Adrien