#josh anderson fanfic

[matthewtkachuk]

promise this won't change a thing - josh anderson

When Josh finds out you've never been satisfied, he sets out to change that...and maybe the nature of your entire friendship

pairing: josh anderson x reader

warnings: light angst, smut smut smut

word count: 6.7k

a/n: here she is! @luvsherleafs i'm so so sorry this is a little late, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless <3 thank u to @antoineroussel for running this whole exchange shindig and for editing as always love u boo. this honestly started as an inappropriate day dream at work and somehow became nearly seven thousand words.......don't ask

It’s a stupid game of Never Have I Ever; cheap wine, some girl friends and a group of rambunctious men who happen to play hockey that sets everything in motion. Among them is Josh—your sweet, best friend since birth Josh—who is currently looking at you with horrified eyes as your drink remains at your side while the feminine presenting half of the table drinks on.

“Never?” he asks incredulously, his eyes ever so slightly glassy and his cheeks and nose tinged pink a sign of his own experiences. 

“That’s why it’s called ‘Never Have I Ever’, Joshua,” you roll your eyes, but your bravado is a façade. The truth is, it’s an almost embarrassing thing to admit no guy has ever been able to get you off.

“Not even Bradley?” someone else asks and all you can do is shrug. 

“He wasn’t half as good as he thought he was.”

“I could help with that if you want.” Joel’s barely got the sentence out before he’s being smacked by your best friend. 

Josh doesn’t need to come to your rescue. You’re a grown adult—even if your choice in sexual partners hasn’t always been the greatest. He does a second time though—then a third and a fourth time and on and—redirecting the game in a manner that has Joel so shit faced by the end of the night, you’re wondering if you should be putting him to bed in Josh’s guest bedroom instead of yourself.

You don’t give up the room, but you still don’t relax until you’ve received fifty thumbs up emojis and a shirtless pic of Joel in his own bed which might have been another invite if his eyes weren’t half-closed. It makes you laugh at least.

The relaxation doesn’t last as Josh decides to clear the air that you’ve been pretending isn’t thick with tension with an apology. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

“It’s alright,” you say, though it really isn’t. Busying yourself with tidying up empty beer cans, you move into the living room while he follows. “It’s just embarrassing.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then two, and then an entire minute passes by in what feels like an eternity as you can sense Josh’s gaze heavy on your back.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. 

Your reply is immediate, no hesitation in your tone, “Yes.” You pause then, some of that aforementioned apprehension seeping into your words, “Why?”

He doesn’t say anything in return, just quietly crosses to where you have your back turned to him. A calloused hand curls around your hip, fingertips sliding under the hem of your top. The other plays with the waistband of your jeans before popping the button and slowly sneaking inside. His movements are slow, unhurried, as if he’s waiting for you to jump away or freak out or yell. 

You don’t; your only reaction is the tensing of your body.

“Relax,” he hums, fingertips dancing over the lace of your underwear. If you weren’t wet before, you’re soaked now—a consequence of the low timber of his voice and the press of him into your back and the slight pressure of his hand between your thighs. 

A whimper of his name passes your lips but you don’t speak any further. He takes it as an invitation to continue, rubbing at your clit through your underwear. You need something to hold onto, one hand gripping at his forearm and the other flying back wildly until you’ve tangled your fingers in the curls peeking out from underneath his hat. 

“You said you think it’s your fault. I don’t think it is,” he speaks casually—cooly, calmly. As if he didn’t have his hand down your pants and his dick pressed to your ass. As if two decades of friendship didn’t hang delicately in the minimal space between your bodies. “Will you let me make you feel good?”

And you’d be lying if the flashes that run through your mind in quick succession weren’t tempting, or if you said you’d never wondered what it would be like to be with him, or if you claimed to never have fantasized about his thick fingers or strong body. 

It’s just… He’s Josh. And you’re you. And you and Josh don’t do this. He features in all the best pictures and memories from your childhood, and he’s the one you come to when you need guidance making a big life decision and you’re the one he tells about the pressures of the league and how hard it was to leave Columbus but how he doesn’t regret a thing. 

Josh keeps your world spinning and you his, and are you really willing to lose all that for a bit of pleasure? 

You say his name again, but with more intention this time. It’s riddled with doubt and worry and anxiety and you don’t have to say a single syllable more—he hears you. 

“I know,” he answers back, calm and sure and pressed to the skin of your neck before he’s kissing and sucking and biting, all the while his fingers never cease their movements against you. 

“This won’t change anything?” you have to say, have to ask. As intoxicating as his cologne is and the feel of him against you and the press of his fingers, you’d stop it in an instant if it meant you’d lose any other piece of him. 

“Not a thing,” he promises with conviction. “Just wan’ be a good friend and get you off.”

You hesitate for a second—full of that fear and doubt until…

“Okay.”

Your nose scrunches in confusion as he slides his hand out of your jeans, wiping your own wetness against the skin of your stomach. But then that very hand is turning your head so that his lips can meet yours. It’s probably sweeter than the moment calls for, but you fall into it just the same. 

It feels like something much deeper than just two friends getting off, something more serious, something with the potential to be devastating. You push it all down in favor of pulling him closer, letting him walk you to his bedroom. 

Your shirt is the first thing to go, awkwardly fumbling because neither of you want to break the kiss. Jeans are next, Josh’s thumb ghosting over the indent left by the button for a brief second before hooking into the side of your underwear until they lay at your feet too. 

The kiss doesn’t break as he lays you down among the cool silk of his sheets. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s still fully clothed, but you don’t get the chance to say anything when he makes his way down your body. You’re interrupted by the little noises of pleasure you make as he caresses and kisses every inch of your body from your chin down to your waist. 

“Relax,” he says again, pulling the hand you hadn’t even realized you were clenching the sheets with into his own as his other arm rests against your pelvis.

Maybe it hasn’t always been your fault.

-

The next morning is awkward. Without the haze of liquor and lust, you’re just two best friends who woke up naked together. There’s tension and stumbling and a hesitancy that had never existed before. 

It feels like a big mistake that the two of you tiptoe around for a week after. You’re not ignoring him. Not exactly. Not when he’s not exactly blowing up your phone either. 

But Josh is your best friend and Montreal is a big, lonely city that only reinforces how much you miss him even though he’s just on the other side of downtown. 

Brunch is a peace offering he can’t resist, not when you’re playing dirty and promising to make him french toast and sausage from the butcher shop in Little Italy you both like so much. 

He lets himself in with the key you gave him, door shutting noisily behind him before you can hear the sound of him kicking off his boots and jacket. It doesn’t take long for him to appear in your kitchen, sheepish smile and light blush on his cheeks. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” you reply, cringing a little on the inside at how flirty it sounds. 

“Smells good,” he offers, coming up behind you to peek over your shoulder. The press of his body is firm and warm and reminds you of how good it felt to lay beneath him on cool sheets. 

“It’s almost ready if you want to grab some plates? There’s juice in the fridge or, well, you know where the coffee is.”

“Sure.”

It’s normal, sort of. If you just ignore the way he can’t stop staring at you. Or, how jumpy you are every time he so much as brushes against your side in the tiny kitchen. The stilted conversation across the table is also abnormal. 

Other than that, though. Totally business as usual. 

The goodbye hug by the door could even be described as ‘nice, if a bit lingering’.

You were right, it hadn’t changed anything. Not permanently, at least.

-

After brunch, you see Josh a handful of times, each meeting slightly less awkward than the last until a string of away games seems to reignite your friendship. It’s not quite the same as before—how could it be, now that you know the way his moan sounds in your ear—but there’s enough of a literal distance that you can communicate without thinking about it all. 

When Josh is back in Montreal, you settle back into an almost familiar routine while trying to navigate the complicated memories you have revolving around your best friend naked. It’s weird, but he’s your best friend and several of his teammates now make up part of the small inner circle of your friends.

You go out for drinks and hang out at each other’s apartments and the apartments and homes of various other hockey players throughout the city. 

When you’re feeling down, it’s still Josh you can call on. Josh who invites you over with the promise of a random documentary on Netflix and noodle bowls from the restaurant down the road. 

There’s still a little tension between your shoulders as you let yourself in and hang your coat by the door. It lingers as you find him sitting on the couch with takeout containers on the coffee table, gesturing for you to take a seat beside him. 

That tension doesn’t quite dissipate as you polish off your food, fighting Josh off as he tries to swipe one of your spring rolls, and watching two episodes. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into his side and wraps an arm around your shoulders. 

Being this close reminds you of that night—the feeling of his body on yours, the relief that there wasn’t something wrong with you.

“Dessert?” Josh asks a little while longer, causing you to nearly snap your neck with how hard your head pivots toward him. Does he mean...? “I have that ice cream you like,” he adds. 

Relaxing a little, you nod and pull yourself from his embrace and his couch. You collect the empty drink glasses and take out containers and make your way into the kitchen to deal with it all while he searches the freezer. 

He doesn’t really make it that far, though, body hesitating and stuttering in a manner that has you looking up from where you’re putting away the clean dishes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“If I don’t, you’ll let them sit here all weekend and that’ll drive me nuts,” you joke, the normalcy of the moment letting your guard down almost completely. 

“Let me help,” he offers, sliding up behind you to assist in reaching the higher cabinet door. After putting it away and closing it back up, he doesn’t move away. You can feel every hard line of his body, can smell the scent of his cologne, but you don’t move either. 

The seconds hang between your bodies until he presses a kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

Several things happen at once then. You spin around and grab desperately at his shoulders as he slides his hands under your thighs and lifts you up on the counter. There’s no hesitation, and the tension that formerly lived here has been replaced by an entirely different kind of tension that has you wanting to rip off his clothes. 

Your lungs struggle to pull in enough air in the brief pauses where his mouth leaves yours, but you don’t care, pulling him closer and closer and closer. 

Until you remember who you are, what you’re doing and who you’re with. You push back against his chest weakly, curling your fingers into the fabric of his shirt first before pushing once more a little more forcefully. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you pant, breathing heavily as he does the same. 

“Don’t wanna,” he responds, going back in to trail his lips down your cheek. 

“Josh,” you say more forcefully and he pauses, looking up at you through his long lashes. “We should talk about this.”

“Probably,” he shrugs, sinking his teeth into your collarbone, making you jolt slightly, body pressing that little bit more against him.

You push once more against his shoulders. “So let’s talk.”

He kisses your neck once more, before flipping his snapback around so that the bill faces the back and dropping to his knees before you all the while pulling off the clothes covering your lower half. 

Swallowing hard, you continue to press the issue. “We’re not talking...”

Josh smirks at you once before pulling your legs around his head and pressing his face to the warmth between them. “No, we’re not.”

He shouldn’t have bothered with the hat at all, since your fingers promptly knock it off his head entirely in order to pull the strands of his hair between them.

The next morning is less awkward. You wake up slowly, body sore and satisfied as you regain consciousness. The weight of Josh is warm and comforting around you, arm slung low around your waist and chest pressed to your back. As much as you’d like to slip back into sleep, the room is too bright and you’re too awake. 

That doesn’t mean you can’t lie in comfort for a minute or ten in the morning quiet. 

The quiet doesn’t last long as Josh waking up minutes later turns into a soft and slow morning quickie that ends with Josh rolling off of you, chest heaving. 

“You wanted to talk?”

Frankly, you’re having trouble breathing, but you know that fucking your best friend is a dangerous game, only made worse by not communicating clearly. 

Somehow you manage to roll on your side so that you can look at Josh as you speak. “Ground rules. We need ground rules.” His resulting nod has you continuing. “You’re still my best friend. This is just two friends getting off together, lord knows I haven’t been having a lot of luck in that department. And this can’t. Change. Anything.” 

You’ve punctuated the last sentence—the words a reminder of your first encounter more than anything—with pokes to his chest. His hand covers yours to save him from more violence and then he uses the grip to pull you on top of him this time. 

“Okay,” he seals the deal with a kiss that has you forgetting your own name and every thought of why this might be a disaster.

Every morning after that—not every morning, but the ones where you do wake up tangled with each other—is less awkward again. There’s an ease that comes with fucking Josh, something you attribute to your long friendship. It’s not a hardship to add orgasms into the mix, getting what you can and what you deserve when the rest of Montreal is still disappointing you while he’s away.

-

You’re genuinely worried you won’t make it out of tonight alive and with your secret situationship with your best friend still a secret. 

It starts with a steamy snapchat from Josh—literally steamy, what with the haze of his bathroom and his bare chest with water dripping down it indicating he’d just taken a hot shower. There’s a towel loosely slung along his hips, but your pulse races with the implication of what lies beneath. You respond with a nonchalant picture of your own shower, a teasing message along the lines of wishing he were here. 

You should know better than to open his response so quickly, but you’re a glutton and blessed with another shirtless pic and the words that read more like a command—show me

Never really one to follow directions, he finds himself opening a picture of you from the neck up. 

lower is his response. 

Ever a tease, you send one more of your legs to your feet. His response is an eye roll emoji which has you laughing.

hey, some weirdo would probably pay good money for my feet pics. should have stayed the night and maybe you could have joined me in the shower.

You don’t wait for a response, the time at the top left corner of your phone reminding you that the clock is ticking and you don’t want to be late to the party at Joel’s  house. 

Going through the motions, you wash your hair and your body, letting the conditioner sit for that extra moment while you stand with your back under the water. 

If you were a proper lady, you might feel shame in the haste with which your hand slides down your body as you imagine Josh in the shower with you on your knees, or how quickly you find release picturing his head between your thighs, or maybe even the way his name leaves your lips as you do so. You’re not, and so you don’t, cheeky enough to send him one last snap with bright eyes telling him exactly what he missed. 

His response goes unopened as you slip into a sundress and dry your hair, flitting about your vanity and wanting to look good but not like you put in a ton of effort. 

Vehicles line the street when you arrive, and so you find a spot near Josh and walk in like you own the place. A few Habs offer you halfhearted greetings until you find Josh and Joel standing in the kitchen. 

Sliding your arms around Joel, you grin up at him, “Hey Eddy.”

His eyes flicker over to where Josh’s cherub smile has dropped into a grimace before his own smile widens. “My favorite girl!“ he announces loudly, just this side of tipsy with a bud light in his hands. 

“You say that to all the girls,” you laugh, squeezing once and then dancing out of his hold. The temperature of the room seems to increase a couple degrees as you slide over to Josh, slipping under his arm and stealing a sip of his beer. “Hey Josh.”

He doesn’t verbally reply, just sets down his beer and manhandles you until he can wrap his arms around you in a proper hug. It’s comforting and warm and you can’t help slipping into it a little more. “Hey,” he says finally, pressing a quick kiss to your temple and then letting go. 

Joel’s never really been that good at subtlety, but even he knows when it’s time to slip away, leaving you and Josh to work through… whatever it is you need to work through. A few more beers and he probably would have joked about the sexual tension. 

“Did you not like my snapchat?” you ask innocently, not stepping back from his space although his arms now rest limply at his sides. One hand comes up to rest on his chest and the other reaches around him, skimming his side as you go, until you've got his discarded beer between your lips again. 

Your eyes widen when he tilts it back a little bit, causing the cool liquid to fall more quickly than you had anticipated, before he pulls it back and downs the rest himself. “You know I did.”

“Good, it was just for you.” Your tone is low and the implications of it all run through his mind, images of you begging for more, telling him you were his and only his, quickly spinning into the vestiges of domesticity that he shuts down quickly. While he’s battling an internal war, you step back from his space, intending on grabbing a drink of your own but you don’t get far. 

His hand grabs your wrists and tugs until he’s able to press your back into the counter and rest his hands on your hips. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment heavier than the occasion calls for but then it’s gone as he lays a bruising kiss against your lips. It doesn’t take long for it to turn dirty, a flex of his hips and a love bite on your lips and you’re gripping his neck while his tongue explores your mouth. 

And then there’s movement in the next room, followed by loud chattering that only gets closer and Josh is stepping back himself. He twists away to grab a couple beers, tossing you one and then walking out of the kitchen. 

Your face is warm and your chest is rising heavily with breaths that just don’t fill your lungs. Pressing the cool bottle to your neck for a second, you shake out your shoulders and follow the source of the sounds in the other room. 

All night you can’t keep your eyes off Josh. From him pushing up his sleeves to expose his forearms to the way he pulls off his hat to run a finger through his hair, you’re mesmerized. You’d blame it on the alcohol, but you were still nursing that first beer that had grown warm. 

His laughter warms your chest like his large body warms your bed and you ache for the press of his fingertips against your waist like he grips the neck of the beer bottle. 

It doesn’t help that it feels like Josh is toying with you—murmuring your name as he passes by where you’re seated on the couch talking to one of the rookies, squeezing at your ass while everyone’s attention is across the room, pressing the entire length of his body to your back under the guise of ‘just passing through.’ And then the texts detailing everything he wants to do to you later, culminating in a recreation of your little shower scene in the morning. 

Near midnight you can’t take it anymore, sending him a heated look and inclining your head, hoping he can take the hint for what it is. 

He doesn’t make you wait long in the bathroom of his teammate’s house, slipping inside only two minutes later (not that you counted). 

“What—” he starts to ask, cut off by the force of you nearly throwing yourself at him and attaching your lips to his.

The shock doesn’t last long—mere seconds before he’s responding with enthusiasm and hauling you up until you rest on the bathroom counter with his thick thighs between your own. 

Pulling back slightly, but still hovering over you in a way that has your pulse racing, he smirks. “What’s all this for?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you curl your fingers through the overgrown hair at the base of his neck and tug. “Been teasing me all night Josh.”

“Teasing? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As he feigns innocence, he lets his calloused fingertips run up your bare thighs, pushing your dress higher and higher up and stepping even closer. 

You feel a pulse between your thighs where your lower halves are pressed together, and you’d be ashamed of how quickly your body has reacted to his if he wasn’t half hard and rocking against you himself. 

Tugging again, you make him look into your eyes instead of your body. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Joshua.” 

He doesn’t deny it again, just shrugs and slides his hands beneath your underwear to grab a handful of your ass. “‘M not sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” you tell him empathetically, before crawling your lips up his jaw. “I want you to touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He flexes his fingers to prove his point. You give him a look that clearly indicates he knows what you’re talking about. Josh kisses you once, much more sweetly than the moment calls for, and then he slides his hands out of the back of your underwear only to cup the front of you through the very same fabric. His pointer and middle finger press against you and he opens his mouth. “This what you wanted?”

“Don’t tease me,” you pant before he can say anything further.

His ever present smirk only widens as he slowly, torturously, rubs his fingertips against you. The motion has your head falling back and a pleading groan to escape your lips.

“But it’s so much fun.” His admission is complete with him taking a step back from you entirely—your body far too cold without his looming presence. “Don’t you think?” He murmurs your name and pushes his sleeves up his arms like he’d done earlier in the night. Your eyes track the movement, your tongue coming out to wet your bottom lip. 

Realizing you've all but fallen into his trap, your eyes narrow again and you pull the skirt of your dress down and prepare to hop off the counter. “If you’re not going to fuck me, I’ll go home and do it myself.” 

Josh reacts quickly then—almost like he can’t help himself—dropping to his knees, flipping your skirt back up and dragging your underwear down your legs. He maintains eye contact as he tucks the garment into the back pocket of his jeans and then leans down to press a light kiss to your clit. 

The action sends a jolt of energy down your spine, and you curse yourself for how quickly you turn to putty above him. The heel of one foot digs into the strong muscle of his upper back and both your hands tangle in his hair. Josh is enthusiastic, impatient even as he drags the fullness of his tongue against you. Part of him wants to make a stupid comment about you submitting to him so willingly, but he doesn’t take the chance that you might push him off and make good on your threat. 

You’re a whining, whimpering mess in no time. Every sound is like music to Josh’s ears, spurring him on and on as he eats you out with vigor. It’s when he slides two thick fingers into your warmth that you let out a moan that could get you both caught. 

He slows the motions of his tongue, but continues the slow thrusting of his fingers, looking up at you where you’re absolutely wrecked by his ministrations. “Gotta be quiet baby, don’t want them all to hear us. Unless you wanna get caught, want someone to walk in and catch us, catch you taking me so well?”

The thought isn’t entirely off putting but you shake your head empathetically. “Don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

The words go straight to his cock first, but then his traitorous heart takes hold of the sound and tries to infer meaning where there is none. You want him. Maybe as badly as he wants you.

There are decades of history as to why a romantic entanglement with you would be a bad idea - real, tangible, palpable reasons and yet he’s got two fingers buried in you and is that not just as bad?

You interrupt his thoughts with a tug of his hair, eyes wide and chest heaving. “Don’t have time. Want you to fuck me.” 

And Josh’s mind might be up in the clouds but his body is planted firmly in this room and so he rises from his knees and uses the strength of his forearms to spin you around until your front is pressed to the porcelain. The position is meant to separate him from his thoughts, to depersonalize the moment a touch, but he can’t keep his eyes off you. From the first moment he enters your body until the last, his eyes track your every facial expression, his heart hammering in his chest for reasons far beyond just the physical exertion of fucking you from behind in Joel’s guest bath. 

Watching as your gaze glazes over and your body relaxes back against his in your post orgasm haze, he follows you, grip flexing against your hips and face burying in your neck. A lot of thoughts fly through his mind, dangerous ones full of promise and potential heartbreak, and so he settles for a few chaste kisses to the smooth skin of your neck. 

The two of you clean up in silence and then Josh is reaching for the door. You stop him, manicured fingernails curling around his wrist until he turns to look at you. 

“You wanna get outta here?” you ask, eyes glinting with the promise of more mind blowing sex. And he really shouldn’t—should really take this time to reflect, take some breathing room and figure out exactly what he wants. But he doesn’t really need to. 

Because what he really wants is you and all that you’re willing to give. 

Taking your face in his hands he kisses you fully, stopping only to murmur out an ‘okay.’

“How did you know there were condoms in the drawer?” you ask as the two of you sneak out of Joel’s apartment. 

“Do you really want to know?” Josh’s teasing tone falls a little flat, but you don’t notice, far too caught up in the inherent ick behind his words. “There’s some in the kitchen island too.” 

“Gross,” you say, but you laugh too, all the way to Josh’s car. You don’t stop laughing until he’s tossing you onto your bed and covering your body with his. 

-

Days, weeks, a month passes in much the same way—you and Josh navigating and balancing both the friends and benefits in friends with benefits. It’s a fine line to walk, and one you end up stumbling over and under as time passes. Sometimes it’s like the flip of a switch. An innocent evening watching the latest binge-worthy drop on Netflix ends with you on your back. Post-sex pillow talk becomes a discussion on carpooling home for the short Habs Christmas break, and whether you would be baking sugar cookies like you do every year. 

It’s blissful and it’s passionate and it’s exciting, but it’s also all just casual. 

You’re under no illusions here, Josh is just your best friend. Your best friend who you regularly and often fuck, but just your best friend nonetheless. This isn’t some shitty made for TV romcom, it’s real life.

Hooking up with Josh doesn’t prevent you from seeing other people. You go on dates set up by friends and with men you meet on dating apps, and, yes, sometimes those dates go well enough that you end up back at theirs or they end up at yours at the end of the night. 

Both you and the other people you hook up with pretend that you don’t see Josh’s face in their eyes before your own eyelids shut.

Mid-December the Habs find themselves in the midst of a losing streak they can’t quite snap out of for longer than a game at a time. Just like his team, Josh is not playing his best—far too deep into his own mind, making stupid mistakes that end up costing leads and even resulting in losses. 

You do your best to make him feel better, just as any friend would. When he’s on the road it’s late night calls, good luck and you’ll get ‘em next time text messages, baking him those sugar cookies he loves so much and leaving a tin of them in his apartment for him to come home to. 

And when he’s at home...

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask as you swing the door open to reveal an anxious looking Josh. His hair is wet and his game day suit is disheveled, but he’s as handsome as ever. 

“No.”

Your stomach swoops at his gruff tone of voice. “Josh—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” he speaks through gritted teeth. And, well, he doesn’t have to tell you more than twice. 

You want to reach for him, want to hold him and reassure him that everything is going to be okay. But that’s not who you are and that’s now what you do, at least not right now. Not with him looking at you like he wants to devour you. And so you wait for him to make the first move, standing in your own vulnerability while he tries to mask his. 

He doesn’t make you wait long, two long strides and he has his hands in your hair and his tongue in your mouth.  

It’s not soft and sweet, it’s all-encompassing. Josh has taken over all of your senses in a bruising, searing kiss. 

You want to wrap yourself around him like a vine, pull him closer and closer until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. He clearly wants that too, gripping and pulling and leading you backwards toward your bedroom and then your bed.

For as heavy as Josh’s grip is on your body, his gaze is tenfold. There’s something deeper swimming in the murky depths of his blue eyes that makes your heart hammer. 

He’s marking up your throat when your phone starts vibrating on the bedside table. You ignore it in favor of arching your back to get even closer, but whoever’s trying to get ahold of you clearly isn’t getting the message as it continues to ring and ring.

“Do you need to get that?” Josh asks, looking up at you.

“No, it’s just some dude,” you reply, sliding a hand through the hair at the base of his neck and attempting to use it for leverage. Ordinarily the action would be enough to have him bending to your will without so much as a protest. “Not important at all.”

Not this time, though. This time he freezes.

“I’m not seeing other people,” he says, body hovering over yours on your bed. 

You falter then, only a little as you reply. “I am. What? We’re just doing the friends with benefits thing. We never had the exclusive talk.”

It would be comical the speed with which he pulls himself from you and your bed. He doesn’t even look at you as he gathers some of his discarded clothes throughout the room and then exits your bedroom.

“What are you so mad about?” you ask, following him through your apartment after throwing on your robe. “You’re seriously telling me you haven’t been picking up on the road?”

“I haven’t been with anyone else since we started hooking up.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say is oh?” He’s angry, but he’s not yelling and that’s almost worse you think. Yelling you could handle, but the quiet fury has your stomach twisting, almost as if he was saying ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.’ 

“Josh—”

“I can’t be here right now,” he grits out, slamming the door and leaving you in the quiet of your apartment all alone.

You’re confused and worried. Worried that two decades of friendship just walked out your door. Worried, because Josh had just left into the cool air without a coat. Worried that despite your mutual promises and assurances that this wouldn’t change a thing, everything had just changed. 

The front door taunts and teases you as you just stand there staring at it, willing Josh to return through it and give you the explanation you deserve.

He doesn’t reappear, and so you will your legs to move and take you away from the confusing scene. Except every inch of your apartment screams Josh now, even if you had made it your home long before Josh’s trade found him in the same city as you. The fluffy blanket on the couch that you bought with your first roommate only makes you think of Josh with that very blanket pooled around his waist. His discarded coat on the chair looks like it was always meant to lie there. 

The kitchen is no better—the cramped counter layout only reminds you of how Josh’s cool, granite countertop felt beneath your bare ass as Josh descended onto his knees in front of you. 

Josh has always been important to you, and the orgasms he’s given you—that none of the guys you’ve slept with when he isn’t around have been able to even come close to—aren’t even in the top ten reasons why.

He’s good and kind and loving in a way you’ve never experienced before. 

The knock on your door is somehow completely expected and yet a total surprise. Maybe it’s the time between the slamming of your door and the subsequent knock—not even a full forty five minutes had passed. Maybe it’s the feelings you’ve come to terms with. Maybe it’s the pounding of your heart. 

Regardless, you slip into a cool exterior mask as you open the door and attempt to casually lean against the frame. “What do you want?”

His responding “I’m sorry” is sincere enough for you to let him in, but not sincere enough for that mask to drop. “You’re right. I don’t have a right to be upset.”

“No you don’t.”

He sighs then, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It was just such a shit game—”

“Bullshit,” you interrupt. “What?” He looks flabbergasted, like he hadn’t expected you to speak at all. “No, I played a shit game and—”

“No I know you played like shit,” you interrupt again, arms crossed over your chest. “You turned over the puck and your shitty cross check resulted in a goal. I’m saying it’s bullshit that it was the game that made you so upset you slammed my front door on your way out.”

“If you’re such a fuckin’ know-it-all, if it wasn’t the game, then what was it?” He’s challenging you in a way, you think. The hard set of his face and the furrow of his brow are a dead give away. 

There’s a few ways this can go. You can let him pretend like it was a shitty game that had him so pissy—maybe you talk it out a little, maybe you fuck it out a little, but it’ll be like a shitty dollar store bandaid over a bullet hole. Eventually it’s gonna bleed through. 

You can put an end to all of it—the tension, the hooking up, all of it—and go back to being best friends who at one time had a thing together. It’ll hurt like hell, but you’ll get over it eventually. Until he settles down with some girl who looks kinda like you in the right light. It’s a safe option, if cowardly.

Or...

“You’re pissed because you’re in love with me.” He opens his mouth to interrupt, maybe to say you’re wrong, maybe to say you’re right but you shake your head vehemently and he promptly closes it. “Well guess what, Joshua. I’m pissed because I’m in love with you too.”

“How long?”

“What?” You stumble over the question, you don’t know the truth well enough to answer without some thought. Maybe the question will buy you some time.

It doesn’t. Josh is quick to clarify, “How long have you loved me too?

“Not as long as you, I don’t think,” you say, slowly, tentatively. “But longer than I even realized. Does it matter?”

He looks like he’s considering it, before he shakes his head and steps closer. “No, not really.”

And then he’s kissing you. The same way he’s been kissing you and yet somehow it’s completely different. It’s not lust, it’s love. It’s not rushed, it’s tender. 

You and Josh should have known better. It was always going to change everything.

[freak-accident419]

Good Tidings

Josh Futturman x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Josh barely have any time to yourselves due time traveling nonstop, trying to save the fate of humanity. However, being at the Futturman’s Christmas dinner party granted you two a fair amount of time.

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, gender neutral reader (no genitals specified, it’s just vague penetration), cockwarming, lots of fluff, takes place during Future Man S1E6 “A Blowjob Before Dying”, too much shitty sex jokes n puns (im sorry) (not), giddy+silly+sweet love making, you think you are sooo fucking funny, more goofy than serious/lustful, you two are very much in love, more plot (high ass dialogue) than porn tbh

(A/n: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!! Hope you enjoy this muahahaha and thank you all for your recent support! First smut written on this account, so be gentle with me please !)

-

You, Tiger, Wolf, and Josh were at the Futturman household, schedule disrupted due to the reluctance of Josh’s parents. They insisted that you all join them for their small Christmas dinner party. You were all sat down at the dining table, as well as the neighbors, Josh’s Uncle Barry, and Diane’s friend, Wanda (who was especially invited to perhaps keep Barry at bay).

While Tiger was mostly impatient and displeased with every mindless convo and laughter, talk revolved around several topics like DNA kits or Wolf’s strangely fascinating culinary.

You sat beside your boyfriend, Josh, slightly nervous about the time you were wasting. Ever since you’ve been dragged into the whole ‘Biotic Wars is real’ and ‘kill or be killed’ shit, you and Josh have been dealing with the worst, unimaginable shit ever. With the two of your adrenaline wearing off, you gradually processed everything that’s happened the past few days since you were never given a break. Hence the hand holding under the table as you two would seek comfort from one another.

But you attempted to distract yourself from the deaths you’ve witnessed and the near-death experiences you’ve had to your best ability by indulging in every conversation.

“Gabe, honey, tell them about—about the recent fishing trip we went on,” Josh’s mother, Diane encouraged to her husband with her sweet, achingly kind voice. You had so much respect for Josh’s parents, so it was pretty easy for you all to hit it off well. They loved you. In fact, they were heavily relieved that Josh had finally found someone, let alone someone as amazing as you.

Gabe let out a hearty chuckle as he prepared himself to tell the table his story.

“So, a couple of days ago, Diane and I went on a small fishing trip. And I remembered an old trick back in the day that attracted a lot of trout,” he explained as you picked up your glass of wine, sipping some generously. Diane smiled at him with a nod as he continued. “One of the very efficient ways to go about fish bait is blowing worms.”

You choke on your wine, holding in a laugh, coughing a bit instead as Josh looks at you with a knowing smile. “I’m sorry, what?” You asked, trying not to grin too widely. Did you hear that right?

“Blowing worms,” Gabe repeated, getting a confined chuckle out of you and Josh. “You inflate the worms with air, which makes them float instead of having your bait be at the very bottom. It’s perfect, especially near the winter time. Worked like a charm.”

“Ohh,” you gasp in wonder. You chuckle to yourself before you spontaneously say, “Yeah, actually, I think I did do that a few times. Blew a-a worm.”

You looked at Josh, thinking you were being hilarious, but he looked at you with surprised eyes and parted lips of shock that slowly transitioned into a smile.

“Really?” Josh’s father expressed with intrigue. “I didn’t even know you fish. You have someone teach you that method, or—”

“Oh, no, Mr. Futturman, I,” you speak as you occasionally switch from looking at him to Josh. “I think it’s a very popular method. It’s a pretty natural instinct, you know? Blowing worms, that is.”

“Wow, really? Always thought it was an old-fashioned sort of thing.”

“Nah, far from old-fashioned, it’s almost contemptuous!”

You did pretty well at suppressing your laughter, because you sounded really earnest. Josh covered his mouth, amused by your subtle humor.

“Joshy, we didn’t know that Y/n likes fishing. We could’ve taken them on our trip. In fact, we could’ve all went,” Diane suggests as she looked at Josh and then you.

It was like everyone at the table was blind to your immature, yet humorous implication. Except, of course, your boyfriend.

“Oh, no worries, Mrs. Futturman,” you insisted kindly. “I don’t usually fish. Plus, blowing worms can be very exhausting.”

“Y/n—” Josh reacted, but interrupted himself with a suppressed laugh.

“You think so?” Mr. Futturman raised an eyebrow. “I just stick a syringe in them, inflate it, and bam, it’s all thick and ready to g—”

You and Josh burst out laughing, holding onto the table and each other. You swore there were slight tears coming out of your eyes as both of your faces were red. You felt overjoyed to feel happiness and delight for the first time ever since your involvement in the mission. And you felt even more glad that it was your boyfriend that you fooled around with.

“Sorry, sorry,” Josh says after his laughter died down as the entire table was confused. “I just—We just thought about a, um, moment when—Um… Actually, Y/n and I did go fishing once. Isn’t that—isn’t that right?”

You nod and go along with it, detaining your giggles.

“Well, anyways, we actually did that method, and yeah, you’re right, it works like a charm!” He exclaimed with joy as his parents smile at him with approval and pride.

“Bet the worm was pretty small, huh?” Tiger jumped in wittily, however, in a coldly nonchalant manner.

“And pathetic!” Wolf blurted.

“Hey, even if that might’ve been true—might’ve—it-it probably had a personality, you know?” He reckoned with a shrug, making you laugh again.

***

“You are—are fucking terrible, you know that?” Josh quickly muttered under his breath as you two continued to kiss each other deeply on his bed. “Those were my parents.”

“C’mon, baby, admit it, it was comedy gold,” you giggle, pressing your lips to his once more by tugging his black, skinny necktie towards you as you remained sitting on his lap.

The dinner party was still going on downstairs. After a long time of looking at each other longingly at the table, you two decided to excuse yourselves in order to “prepare gifts for Josh’s coworkers that he forgotten to wrap” in his room.

When you guys rushed in his room, you couldn’t take your hands off each other, immediately making out once the door was locked. However, you then had to close all his blinds before you met him back on the bed. This wasn’t new to you, none of it was. The soft, warm orange that his room’s light emitted strangely comforted you, as well as being back on his soft, spacey mattress.

Was it a good idea to leave Tiger and Wolf alone with Josh’s family and company? Probably not. But you’ve taught them enough shit. They tolerate Josh’s parents, so why not a few other guests as well? And you’ll only be gone for no longer than five minutes, you’d hoped.

You bring your hands to his pants, attempting to unbuckle his belt. “Shit—What the—What the fuck is this?” You grumble, Josh laughing at you as you struggle.

“I think it’s—” He giggled, bringing his own hands to his belt, trying to remove it, pulling. “I think it’s stuck.”

“What the shit?” You wheeze. “Fuckin’—Fuckin’ cock block!” You continue to mess with the belt, trying your best to unbuckle it.

“Wait, you—you’re almost there, you—”

“Oh my god! Holy shit! I got it!” You let out a surprised gasp, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his pants right after.

“Oh shit! Flawless victory!” He exclaimed, making you stop in your tracks, looking back up at him.

“You did not just quote Mortal Kombat because I successfully unbuckled your belt,” you raise an eyebrow, nevertheless amused by his dorkiness.

“Maybe,” he answered smugly.

“You’re lucky I am in love with you, otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have let that slide,” you chuckle.

“Oh, come on. You’d love my video game references either way,” he insisted.

“I’m serious, Josh, the amount of things I’ve let slide because I love you is kind of crazy. Let me just say, I am so glad I met you after the ‘apple juice’ incident that Ray told me about.”

“Ray told you about that?”

“He told me a lot of things. Mostly the embarrassing things. I think he wanted to freak me out, you know? Always thought I was too good for you.”

You pulled his pants off, throwing it carelessly down on the floor. Your lips attached once more as he snickered as you then cupped his face with your warm hands. You look at your lover, his big, brown, desperate eyes looking at you with utmost adoration. “Well, jokes on him, he was entirely wrong. You are so good to me, you know that?”

He smiles at you softly, and you could sense how flustered he felt to hear that (the blushing patently gave it away). “You’re the one who’s been on my side since forever. Even when you got involved in all this shit that you didn’t even have to be in. You-You could’ve called me crazy, and-and broken up with me, but you believed me and stayed by my side, even knowing that things were gonna get dirty. And they did, get really dirty.” Rest in peace Janis and Carl? Or, rather, die, you evil perf-cocks? Eh, doesn’t fucking matter. “You’re so good for me, sometimes I can’t believe you’re even real.”

You giggle sweetly as you give him another kiss, a quiet smack caused by your lips deftly leaving his own to speak. “Well, I’m here and I’m real, and I’ll always be there for you, baby,” you reassure. You were perfect for him. Indefinitely.

He smiled blissfully. “I love you so much.”

You two made out passionately until you were laying under him, the lower halves of your bodies bare as you discarded the necessary clothes.

“Do you think your parents and everyone else knew about the worm thing or are they just that… I don’t know… clueless?” You asked endearingly under your breath as your fingers entangle in his soft, brown hair.

“Hmm. Possibly,” he reckons, raising his eyebrows as he thought about it. “That was still kind of evil of you, though.”

“Me, personally, I thought it was hilarious.”

“Blowing worms?”

“C’mon, your father set himself up for that.”

“Tiger called it small,” he muttered lamentably. “And Wolf said it was pathetic.”

“Jeez, whatever happened to personality?” You chuckle softly.

He sighed. “They still sort of called me out.”

“Shut up. It’s average, to say the least. Doesn’t matter either way, you’re enough.”

“But—”

“Josh, if it bothers you this much, then just prove them wrong right now,” you reply with a laugh.

“As in—?”

“Josh, c’mon, we don’t have time anyways. They’re expecting us any minute because of that shitty made-up story excuse. I love foreplay, dude, but I’m pretty sure we didn’t acknowledge the time at all. Quickies are definitely not our cup of tea. Y—” Your breath hitched as you felt his tip prod at your sensitive entrance. He gave you a soft, comforting kiss on the nose. You looked into each other’s eyes deeply, then your lips crashed into each other’s as the two of you stifled your moans once Josh finally thrusted in.

“Y-You know you’re p-perfect just the—mm—way you are, right?” You ask gently, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He smiled at this, kissing your lips once more, beginning to move. Your heart fluttered each second you felt him thrust in and out, slightly and satisfyingly stretching you. His hips moved quite skillfully, but also slightly clumsily, which was nonetheless admirable.

Your usual soft moans and gasps would be replaced by stifled grunts and sighs, due to the company downstairs. As much as you wanted the whole world to know that Josh Futturman was yours and only yours, you also had dignity—plus, it was his goddamn parents downstairs.

You giggled as you felt his nose against yours each rough kiss. “Y-You know, however, I think the only complaint I have about you is the fact that you hate Super Mario Bros.” You point out with a chuckle.

“Y/n, in my—agh—defense, it literally makes no sense. Like, why would there be pipes that are—”

“Okay, why rely solely on logic and rationality, hm, Futturman? I thought video games were all about escape. It’s all just harmless fun.”

“Yeah, well, I’m much more into games with thought-out plots and challenges,” he remarked, making you roll your eyes playfully. “Anyways, it pretty much just got ruined for me even more when Tracy at the video game store talked about Luigi having a very hairy, Italian cock.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Baby, I love you. However, your goddamn dick is currently inside of me. Please do not talk about Luigi’s theoretic hairy penis.”

“Noted,” he assents, going back to kissing you passionately, while moving slowly inside of you, yet deeper with each thrust. You let out a quiet, pleasured gasp as you felt him fill you perfectly, his hands lovingly gripping your waist to keep you still.

Your eyes closed as you indulged in the feeling of his gentle thrusts, him peppering kisses on your neck, softly chuckling under his breath. He guessed he was still in disbelief that he had someone as amazing as you.

“I… I still can’t believe someone as perfect as you would ever go out with a loser like me,” he scoffed, pressing more kisses against your neck and jaw.

“Hey, seriously?” You frown, holding his face in your hands once more, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You are… a lot of things, Josh. But a loser isn’t one of them. Okay? You are so kind and funny and caring and thoughtful a-and—m-mm—amazing i-in general.”

“I—Fuck. I—I don’t deserve you,” he panted.

“J-Jesus Christ, sh-shut your fuckin’ rathole. Yes you do, baby. You deserve me as much as I deserve you.”

It was becoming harder to focus on your words as you continued to feel an increased sensation and pleasure as his thrusts quicken and falter. You let out a small gasp as you tense things up by wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him in even deeper. You two had been speaking and giggling to each other constantly that you didn’t even notice the lewd, wet, slapping against the skin that came from each heavy thrust. Josh grabbed one of your hands, interlocking your fingers tightly on the mattress beside your head.

“J-Josh, I—” You begin breathlessly.

“I know, me too,” he grunts as soft, inaudible whimpers and whines leave his lips while the movement of his hips stuttered. His rhythm was becoming unsteady, but it was also increasing in speed. “I—Y/n, f-fuck, I’m c—”

“Sh-shit, baby, I—” You pant as you felt closer and closer over the edge, every mere feeling increasing your stimulation. You bring your hand to cover your mouth and suppress any loud moans as you finally released, the knot in your stomach undoing itself as you sigh afterwards once your hand left your mouth. Josh came exactly right after you as his hips jolted for the final time, spilling his warm, white seed inside of you, burying his face in your neck to muffle a high-pitched grunt and acute whines.

You two were breathing heavily, kissing each other’s lips softly and lovingly after you both came down from your high. You two never moved from your position, still fragile and sore. Josh caressed the side of your waist under your shirt, his head resting in your neck as you moved your hand to play with his hair, holding him in your arms.

“This is probably the only time we’ll have together alone before we have to continue with the damn mission,” you figured, tangling his strands of hair in between your fingers.

“It’s bullshit,” he mumbles, his thumb continuing to rub your waist.

“Enjoy the moment while we can?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighed dejectedly.

A beat.

“Hm,” you hum thoughtfully.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing, I just… I like it whenever you’re inside of me,” you comment softly. This was probably the most affectionately vulnerable and honest you have been with him. Your tone lacked any intention for humor or lust; you were genuine.

He lifted his head up from your neck. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know. It just feels right. You know, as if you were, like, made for me exactly,” you whispered lovesickly, looking down at his sweet, plump lips to his profound, gorgeous brown eyes. “I wanna stay like this a little longer. You’re so perfect for me. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replied with a smile, kissing your lips soothingly.

Then suddenly,

“Futturman! L/n! Get out of there, we gotta go now! Operation Cameronium!” Tiger called from the other side of the door. “Goddamnit. The fucking—tiny man—baby thing—is, just, really starting to piss me off. Let’s go!”

You and Josh looked at each other for a while in silence before bursting out into laughter.

“We-we better go before she considers murdering little baby Wallace,” you suggest with a soft smile.

“Yeah… Wait. Do you really think—”

“No…” You answer before he could finish his sentence. “I know she seems all stoic on the outside, but I feel like the past few days, she changed a bit. Empathy-wise. Slightly, at the very least.” Josh nods.

“I’m really gonna miss this,” he sighs.

“Me too. But don’t worry, once we fix everything, we have all the time in the world together,” you assert.

“Okay,” he smiles sweetly, kissing your lips before slowly pulling out of you, leaving you to feel empty and slightly bummed.

The two of you, with your clothes back on and hair quickly fixed, you waltzed downstairs with no problem. Your hands had been interlocked, faces a bit flushed as you smile to yourselves.

“You two sure look happy,” Diane expresses joyfully. “You really got into the Christmas spirit, wrapping all those gifts upstairs, huh?”

You giggled under your breath. “Oh, yeah, definitely, Mrs. Futturman. Uh, very much so. I really love Christmas, you know? The gift wrapping Joshy and I did upstairs and, you know, all the Christmas traditions. ‘Specially, ‘specially the yule log.” You look at Josh with a knowing grin as he just listened in, suspecting nothing at all. “Really makes you feel warm inside, am I right?”

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔏𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲

Mike Schmidt x male reader

Summary: A well-meaning gesture drives a painful wedge between Mike Schmidt and the person he loves. As regret sets in, Mike realizes he can't bear the distance and seeks to mend their fractured bond.

Tags: Part 5 of this miniseries of Mike Schmidt x male reader. No use of Y/N. Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Heavy angst at the start. You and Mike argue. Sad moments. Make-up smut. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Reader being called “good boy”. Anal sex.

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Words count: 5500 words

Part 1-part 2-part 3-part 4-Part 6-Part 7-Part 8-Part 9-Part 10-Part 11

The night was quiet, almost too quiet.

You and Mike were seated at the small, worn dining table in the kitchen, the remnants of dinner between you. The meal had been simple, but it was the kind of home-cooked food that brought a sense of normalcy to the chaos of everyday.

Mike looked exhausted. His eyes were shadowed, and there was a tightness in his jaw that hadn't been there before. He rubbed his temples as if trying to ward off an ever-present headache.

You hated seeing him like this.

Over the past few weeks, you'd watched as the stress slowly chipped away at him, and it had been tearing you apart inside. You wanted to help, to do something that might ease his burden, even if only a little.

That's why you'd made the decision. You'd hoped it would be a surprise, something to bring a smile to his face, to show him that he wasn't alone in this.

"I, uh..” You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in your hand. The words felt heavy in your throat, but you pushed them out anyway, hoping they would bring some relief. "I took care of the bills this month."

Mike's hand, which had been resting on the table, stilled. He looked up at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "I paid them. The electricity, the water... rent. I had some extra from my scholarship, and I thought-"

"What?" Mike's voice was low, but there was an edge to it that made your heart skip a beat.

"You paid my bills?"

“I was just trying to help," you said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. "You've been so stressed, and I thought this might take some of the pressure off. I just wanted to do something for you, to help you relax a bit"

For a moment, there was silence. You could see the wheels turning in Mike's head, could almost hear the gears grinding as he processed what you'd said.

But instead of the gratitude or relief you'd hoped for, his expression darkened, a flash of something you couldn't quite identify flickering across his face.

Anger? Embarrassment?

"Why would you do that?" His voice was sharper now, cutting through the quiet like a knife.

Your heart sank, the unease in your chest growing stronger. "I just... I hate seeing you so stressed out all the time. I thought if I could help with the finances, it might give you one less thing to worry about."

Mike stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that made you flinch. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles were coiled tight like a spring about to snap.

"Do you think I can't take care of my own bills?" His voice was louder now, the anger unmistakable. "Do you think I need you to swoop in and fix everything for me?"

"No, of course not," you stammered, standing up as well, your own hands shaking slightly as you tried to explain.

"I just wanted to help, Mike. That's all."

"Well, maybe I don't want your help." The words were like a slap in the face, each one stinging more than the last. "Maybe I don't need you to play the hero and save the day."

"I wasn't trying to play the hero,I just wanted to support you” you said, your voice trembling as you fought to keep your emotions in check.

Mike let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating. "Support? Is that what you call this? Going behind my back and doing things without even telling me? That's not support, that's... I don't even know what that is."

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. "I'm sorry, Mike. I didn't mean to make you feel like you couldn't handle things. I just thought... I thought it might help."

"Well, you thought wrong" His voice was cold now, devoid of the warmth and affection you'd grown used to. "I don't need you to take over my life. I'm perfectly capable of handling things on my own."

The words cut deep, each one driving the knife a little further into your heart. You'd crossed a line, and now everything was falling apart.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you took a step back.

But Mike didn't respond. He just turned his gaze away from you and took a seat back on his chair, his back rigid as he stared at the wall, his silence more painful than any words he could have said.

The tears you'd been holding back finally began to fall, silent but heavy, as you realized just how badly you'd messed up.

"I think I should go," you said after a long moment, your voice tight with emotion. "Give you some space."

Still, Mike didn't say anything. The silence between you was thick with tension, with all the things that had been left unsaid. You wanted to reach out, to touch him, to tell him how much you cared, how much you wanted to make things right. But the look on his face, the coldness in his eyes, stopped you.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked to the door, your footsteps echoing in the quiet house. You grabbed your jacket and keys, your hands shaking as you tried to steady yourself. When you reached the door, you hesitated, glancing back at Mike one last time. But he was still facing away from you, his posture tense, his silence deafening.

The cool night air hit you like a physical blow, the shock of it jolting you back to reality. You stood on the porch for a moment, your breath coming in shaky gasps as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

You'd overstepped. You'd tried to help, but instead, you'd taken away Mike's control, his autonomy, and in doing so, you'd hurt him in a way you hadn't anticipated. The weight of that realization settled heavily on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

The walk back to your college dorm was long, each step feeling like a mile as you replayed the argument over and over in your mind.

You could see every detail with painful clarity: the look on Mike's face, the anger in his voice, the way he'd turned away from you as if he couldn't bear to look at you. And with each replay, the guilt grew stronger, until it felt like a physical presence, heavy and oppressive, pressing down on you from all sides.

By the time you reached your dorm, your heart was pounding, and your thoughts were a chaotic mess of regret and sorrow. You barely noticed your roommate wasn't there as you stumbled into the room, the silence of the empty space pressing in on you from all sides.

You collapsed onto your bed, the tears you'd been holding back finally breaking free. They came in heavy, wracking sobs that shook your entire body, the sound of your anguish echoing off the walls. You buried your face in your pillow, trying to stifle the noise, but it was no use. The pain was too much, too overwhelming, and all you could do was let it out, hoping that somehow, it would ease the ache in your chest.

Sleep didn't come easy that night. When it finally did, it was fitful and restless, plagued by dreams of Mike's hurt expression, of the coldness in his voice as he told you he didn't need your help. You woke up several times, each time with the same hollow feeling in your chest, the same crushing sense of regret.

The weekend had arrived, and with it, a hollow emptiness that seemed to seep into every corner of your world. The dormitory was slowly emptying out, the usual buzz of students excited for their weekend plans replaced by an eerie quiet as one by

one, they left for home, parties, or short trips.

Your roommate was packing up, his belongings scattered haphazardly around the room as he prepared to leave for the weekend too. The rustling of clothes, the clatter of things being tossed into a bag. Each sound felt like a reminder that you, had nowhere to go, no plans to look forward to.

He glanced over at you, sitting on your bed, staring at your phone as if willing it to ring, to vibrate, to do something other than lie still and silent.

The argument with Mike had left you adrift, and the days since had passed in a blur of muted emotions and half-hearted attempts to distract yourself from the gnawing ache in your chest.

But now, with the weekend here and no word from Mike, that ache had only grown more intense, settling into your bones like a cold that wouldn't go away.

"Hey," your roommate said, breaking the silence as he zipped up his bag. His tone was casual, but there was an underlying curiosity that made you tense. "You've been really quiet lately. Is everything okay? Missing your boyfriend or something?"

You stiffened at the question, your eyes flicking up to meet his. He wasn't someone you'd ever been particularly close with, your relationship with him more out of necessity than any real friendship.

You'd never trusted him with your deeper feelings, and now was no different. The last thing you wanted was to overshare with someone who wouldn't understand, who couldn't possibly grasp the depth of what you were feeling.

"Yeah," you replied shortly, your voice lacking any real conviction. "We... had an argument. Things have been a bit off lately, and I don't think I'll be seeing him this weekend."

Your roommate raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips that only served to irritate you further. "An argument, huh? Must've been something serious if you're moping around like this."

You didn't respond, your gaze shifting back to your phone. The last thing you wanted was to get into the details of your fight with Mike, especially with someone like him. But your roommate didn't take the hint.

"I mean, it's not like I want to be a downer or anything," he continued, a note of condescension in his voice, "but it's kind of obvious things wouldn't work out between you two. You're younger, and let's be real, Mike's got a lot of baggage. A kid sister to take care of, not much money... That's a lot to deal with, especially for someone like you."

His words stung, each one digging into the raw wound in your heart. You knew there were obstacles between you and Mike but you'd never seen those as reasons to give up on him. You cared about him deeply, loved him even.

"You don't know him, or what we have. Just because it's complicated doesn't mean it won't work." you said, your voice colder than you intended, the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Your roommate shrugged, clearly unfazed by your tone. "Whatever, man. I'm just saying, maybe it's time to face reality. Relationships like that don't usually last. You're both in different places in life, and it's only going to get harder from here"

He zipped up his bag with a finality that made your stomach turn, the sound grating against your nerves. "Anyway, good luck with all that. Hope you figure things out."

He gave you a nod, that same smug look on his face, before slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading out the door. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the now-empty room, and you were left alone with your thoughts.

You sat there for a long moment, staring at the door, your mind replaying the argument with Mike over and over again.

The guilt was overwhelming, a constant presence that gnawed at you no matter how hard you tried to push it away.

Eventually, you couldn't stand being in the room any longer. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the silence suffocating.

You needed to do something, anything to distract yourself from the pain that had settled in your chest. So, you grabbed your coat and decided to head to the library.

Maybe a good book could take your mind off things, even if only for a little while.

The campus was nearly deserted, most students having already left for the weekend.

When you arrived at the library, the warmth inside was a welcome relief, the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the faint smell of old books providing a small comfort. The library was as empty as the rest of the campus, save for the sweet old lady who worked behind the counter.

Mrs. Halloway had always been kind to you, her gentle smile and warm demeanor making the library feel like a safe haven.

"Afternoon, dear," she greeted you with a smile as you approached the counter. "What brings you in today? Looking for something in particular?"

"Hi, Mrs. Halloway," you replied, forcing a small smile as you approached. "I'm just looking for something to read this weekend. Maybe something from the horror section?"

"Horror, hmm?" Mrs. Halloway led you over to the section. "I think I have just the thing for you."

She scanned the shelves with practiced ease before pulling out a book with a worn cover, the title barely legible. "This one's an oldie but a goodie. I think you'll enjoy it."

You thanked her and took the book, glancing at the cover. Your heart sank as you read the title.

“The Shining” by Stephen King.

You'd heard of the story before. A man slowly losing his grip on reality as the pressure of providing for his family overwhelmed him.

You couldn't help but mentally scoff at the accuracy and timing.

Of all the books she could have chosen, it had to be this one.

Still, you took the book because you didn’t the heart to refuse something from her.

As you turned to leave, the phone on the counter rang, the sudden noise making you jump. Mrs. Halloway sighed, clearly annoyed by the interruption, and made a small noise of frustration. "Oh, bother," she muttered, her hands occupied with the stack of books she was sorting. "Would you mind answering that for me, dear? My hands are a bit full at the moment."

"Sure, no problem," you replied, stepping behind the counter and picking up the receiver. "Hello. How can I help you?"

There was a pause on the other end, a moment of silence that made your heart skip a beat.

Then, a small voice, hesitant but familiar, spoke.

"Um, hi... is this... is this you?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the voice. "Abby?" you asked, your voice soft, barely able to believe it.

"Yeah, it's me," she replied, sounding both relieved and nervous. "I... I found this number in your notebook, the one you left at our house. I wanted to call you because... because I miss you. Why aren't you here? I wanted to see you this weekend."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the longing in her voice tugging at your heartstrings.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "... I'm sorry, Abby. I can't be there this weekend. I'm...I'm busy”

There was a pause on the other end, and you could almost hear her disappointment. "Oh... okay. But... but why? Why can't you come? Mike's been really quiet this days, and I thought maybe you could make him smile again. You always do."

You squeezed your eyes shut, the tears finally spilling over as you struggled to keep your voice steady. "I... I can't, Abby. I'm really sorry. But... but I promise I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," she replied, her voice small and sad. "I miss you..."

"I miss you too, Abby," you whispered, the words barely audibie as you fought to keep your composure. "But I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay..." Abby's voice trailed off, and then there was a click as she hung up. You stood there for a moment, the phone still pressed to your ear, the silence on the other end ringing in your ears.

Mrs. Halloway looked up from her work, concern etched on her face. "Everything okay, dear?"

You forced a shaky smile, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. "Yeah, it was just... just a prank call, I think." you mumbled, the words feeling hollow as you turned to leave, the book clutched tightly in your hand.

When you finally reached your room, you tossed the book onto the bed, the sight of it only reminding you of how empty and lonely the weekend would be without Mike.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your thoughts spiraling as the reality of the situation sank in.

You'd never felt so lost, so unsure of what to do next. All you knew was that you missed Mike more than anything, and the thought that you might have ruined everything between you made the ache in your chest almost unbearable.

The afternoon faded into evening, and the dim light of the setting sun cast long shadows across your dorm room.

You sat on your bed, your back against the wall, the book lying forgotten next to you.

As you stared blankly out the window, lost in your thoughts, a soft thud broke the silence. At first, you thought you'd imagined it, but then it came again, another quiet tap against the glass, like something small and solid striking the pane. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffing softly as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

Curiosity piqued, you approached the window, your heart beating a little faster as you drew back the curtain. What you saw made your breath catch in your throat.

There, standing in the twilight below, was Mike. His dark hair was a little disheveled, his expression a mixture of worry and hope. In his hand, he held a single rose, its delicate petals a deep, velvety red.

You recognized it immediately as one of the roses from the bushes you and he had grown together in his garden, a project that had started as a way to brighten up his yard for Abby.

For a moment, you just stared, unable to process the fact that he was actually here. The days of silence had made you fear the worst, that you might never hear from him again, that the argument had driven a wedge between you that couldn't be undone.

When his eyes met yours, they softened with regret. He must have seen the redness and puffiness in your eyes, the signs of the tears you'd been shedding, because his expression changed, becoming even more tender, more apologetic.

"I'm sorry," he called up loud enough for you to hear. "Can we talk?"

Without thinking, you nodded and quickly moved away from the window, heading for the door to let him in.

You barely noticed the emptiness of the hallways as you made your way down to the entrance, your thoughts entirely consumed by the fact that Mike was here. When you reached the door and opened it, there he was, standing just outside, the rose still clutched in his hand.

He looked relieved to see you up close, his tense shoulders relaxing a little as his eyes scanned your face, taking in every detail as if he hadn't seen you in years.

"Hi," he said, his voice soft and uncertain, as if he wasn't quite sure what to say next.

"Hi," you replied, your own voice just as quiet, the tension between you thick and palpable.

There was a moment of silence as you both stood there, unsure of how to proceed. It was as if the days apart had created a chasm that neither of you knew how to cross, but the fact that he was here, that he had come to you, was a start.

"... I didn't know if you'd want to see me," Mike finally admitted, his eyes dropping to the floor for a moment before he looked back up at you.

You swallowed hard, your emotions a tangled mess inside you. "Same," you confessed. "I thought... i thought I'd ruined everything."

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a small, sad smile. "No. You didn't ruin anything. We just... we both messed up, I think. Can we go somewhere and talk?"

You nodded and without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, the rose forgotten as your fingers intertwined with his. The familiar feeling of his large, calloused hand in yours was a balm to your aching heart, and you realized just how much you had missed missed him.

You led him back to your dorm room, the two of you walking side by side in silence. The hallways were empty, the usual bustle of student life replaced by the quiet that came with the weekend.

When you reached your room, you held the door open for him, your heart pounding as he stepped inside. He took in the small space, his eyes moving from the neatly made bed on your roommate's side to the cluttered mess on your own. Textbooks, clothes, and the unopened horror novel.

He glanced at the book, a small smile playing on his lips as he read the title.

"The Shining?" he said, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to the book "Lots of isolation, a guy slowly losing his mind, relationship falling apart. I guess I'm the guy going crazy in this situation, huh?"

"Mike..." you began, but he held up a hand, cutting you off gently.

"No, let me say this," he said, his voice shaking slightly "I... I need to apologize. For everything. For how I reacted, for what I said... I was out of line. I was angry, but not at you. I was angry at myself. I took it out on you, and that wasn't fair. I felt humiliated. Like I couldn't take care of myself or Abby. And the last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you had to step in and save us."

His words hit you hard, the weight of his insecurities finally laid bare between you. "I never thought you couldn't take care of yourself," you said, your voice trembling.

Mike squeezed your hand, his gaze intense as he looked into your eyes. "I know. But sometimes, I need to be the one to take care of things, even if it's hard. It's how I feel like I'm doing right by Abby, like I'm proving that I can be a good brother to her. But I also need to learn that it's okay to let people in."

You could feel the tears spilling over now, the floodgates opening as all the emotions you'd been holding back came rushing to the surface. "I never wanted to make you feel like you were not good enough," you whispered, your voice breaking.

"I know," Mike murmured, his own voice thick with emotion. He reached up, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb.

"And I want you to be. These days apart made me realize how much I need you, how much value you have in my life. I can't do this without you."

His words were like a balm to your wounded heart, soothing the raw pain that had been festering since the argument. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as you savored the closeness you had missed so much.

"I missed you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was so scared that I'd lost you."

Mike pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his embrace warm and comforting. You clung to him, the fear and uncertainty that had plagued you for days slowly melting away.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, content to just hold each other, to let the closeness heal the wounds that had been inflicted by your argument. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric as you shifted closer, your head resting against his chest as you listened to the steady beat of his heart.

When the tears finally subsided, you pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes were soft, filled with a mixture of relief and affection that made your heart ache in the best way possible.

Mike's hand, still resting on your cheek, slowly slid down to your neck, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. There was something in his eyes, a look that went beyond the relief of reconciliation, a mixture of need, desperation, and a deep, aching love that he didn't quite know how to put into words. He had always struggled with expressing himself, with finding the right way to communicate how he felt, but right now he seemed determined to show you just how much you meant to him.

He wasn't satisfied with just words. He needed to show you, to prove to you in a way that went beyond apologies and promises.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice husky and filled with longing.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and that was all the invitation he needed.

He leaned in, kissing you with urgency. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that made your pulse quicken, his hands coming up to cup your face, holding you as if you might slip away if he let go.

You let out a small gasp as his kiss deepened, your hands instinctively reaching out to grasp his shoulders, grounding yourself as he pressed closer.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. "Mike," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you took in the intensity of his gaze. "Are you... are you sure you want to do this? Here?"

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and filled with affection as he leaned in to nuzzle your neck. "Yes," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and soothing. "I want to make you feel good right now. I need to show you how much I missed you."

You felt a rush of heat flood through you at his words, your nerves suddenly on edge. The thought of what he was suggesting made your pulse quicken with both excitement and trepidation.

You could feel it in the way his hands moved over your body, in the way his lips pressed against your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made you tremble.

He captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss that left you breathless. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The kiss was desperate, almost possessive, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn't say aloud.

As his lips moved down to your neck, peppering your skin with soft, lingering kisses, he paused for a moment, glancing at the bed beneath you. "Is this your bed?" he asked, his tone playful as he nipped at your collarbone.

You hesitated for just a fraction of a second, your mind flashing back to the hurtful words your roommate had thrown at you before he left. The sting of those words was still fresh, a reminder of how others perceived your relationship with Mike.

"No," you replied with feigned innocence, pointing to the other bed. "That one's mine." you said, doing your best to sound casual.

Mike nodded, not suspecting a thing, and before you could react, he leaned down and scooped you up in his arms effortlessly. A surprised laugh escaped your lips as he stood, holding you close to his chest. The suddenness of the gesture made your heart race, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation bubbling up inside you.

"Mike!” you exclaimed, more out of surprise than protest, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you across the room.

He grinned up at you. "I've got you," he murmured, his hands found their way to your ass, cupping it firmly as he carried you.

Without further ado, he reached the bed you'd pointed to and gently lowered you onto it, your back sinking into the mattress with a soft thud. He was already leaning over you, his hands braced on either side of your head as he hovered above you, his face just inches from yours.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," Mike whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours once more. This kiss was deeper, more desperate, as if he was trying to pour all the longing and need he had felt during your time apart into this single moment.

His hands moving to unbutton your shirt, each button slipping free under his deft fingers until your chest was exposed to him. He took a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, down to your chest.

You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he was holding himself back, as if he didn't want to rush this moment, even though every fiber of his being was telling him to.

His hands moved lower, unbuckling your belt and sliding your pants down, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs. You shivered at the contact, your breath hitching as he pulled your pants off completely, leaving you exposed and vulnerable beneath him.

He moved down your body, his lips trailing a path of fire as he explored every inch of you. The feeling of his mouth on your skin, the way he kissed and nipped at you, made you moan softly, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

As he moved lower, his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you in place as he continued his exploration. You felt the heat between your legs build, the anticipation almost unbearable as he teased.

When his lips finally reached their destination, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. The sensation of his mouth on you was almost too much. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you arched up against him.

Mike's pace was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. He took his time, drawing out every sensation, every moan, until you were trembling beneath him, your body taut with need.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening with evidence of his work, you were a mess of whimpers and gasps, your body aching for release. But Mike wasn't done with you yet. He moved back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a deep, hungry kiss that made you dizzy with want.

"Are you okay?" he murmured against your lips, his voice gentle despite the desperation you could feel in his touch.

You nodded, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you tried to form words. "I... I need you," you managed to say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need. "Please, Mike."

"Do you have any lube?" he asked, his voice husky and breathless, but still tinged with concern. His question caught you off guard, and for a moment, your brain struggled to process the words. You were already panting, your body flushed with arousal, but somewhere in the haze of your mind, you registered the importance of his question.

"Yeah...." you managed to say, your voice trembling with anticipation and a hint of shyness. You pointed towards the drawer by your bed, your heart pounding as you watched Mike's eyes follow the direction of your gesture.

He glanced back at you, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips as he realized what you were indicating. "In there?" he asked, and you nodded.

Mike leaned over, his hand reaching out to open the drawer. He rummaged for a moment before pulling out the small bottle of lube.

"This?" he asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity as he looked at you, his grin widening at your obvious embarrassment.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze, your face burning as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure. "Y-yeah," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper

Mike chuckled softly, setting the bottle aside for a moment as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "You're adorable when you're shy" he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate.

He reached for the bottle, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers before setting it aside. His eyes met yours as he coated his fingers, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch in your throat.

Your body was trembling with anticipation as you felt his hand slide between your legs, his fingers gently parting your thighs. The first touch of his slick fingers against you made you gasp, your hips instinctively arching off the bed as he began to prepare you.

His movements were slow and careful, his fingers working you open with a patience that made your heart swell with affection. He took his time, making sure you were comfortable, that you were ready, before he added a second finger, then a third, each one stretching you further, preparing you for what was to come.

You could feel every nerve in your body alight with pleasure, every touch sending sparks of electricity through you.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, you couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips, your body aching for more.

He reached down to unbutton his own pants, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes until he was just as bare as you were.

He settled between your legs, his body pressing against yours. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, the weight of him grounding you, making everything feel more real.

"You're so perfect," Mike whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, across your chest. "So perfect for me."

The words made your heart swell, and you reached up, cupping his face in your hands as you looked into his eyes, seeing the love and need reflected there.

He entered you slowly, the stretch and burn of him filling you completely, making you gasp as your fingers dug into his shoulders. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, as if he was trying to remind you of everything you had shared, of everything you had lost and found again.

The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths, the slick slide of skin against skin, the soft moans and gasps that escaped your lips as he drove into you, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate.

"You'll always be mine, my good boy. No one else... just you." Mike growled, his voice rough and possessive as he thrust harder, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, deeper.

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body respond to his voice, to the way he claimed you with each movement, each touch. You clung to him, your hands clutching at his back as he drove you both higher, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best possible way.

You finally reached that peak together, your body trembling beneath him as you came, the pleasure washing over you in waves so intense that you could barely breathe.

Mike groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he followed you over the edge, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside you. His body shaking with the force of it.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, Mike's hold on you never wavered, his body pressed against yours as he held you close.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes finding yours in the dim light of the room. There was a softness in his gaze, a look of contentment and relief that made your heart swell with affection. He reached out, his calloused, large hand cradling your face gently, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek.

For a moment, he just stared at you, taking in every detail of your face-your slightly swollen lips, the flush in your cheeks. But then, as if the words slipped out before he could stop them, he whispered, "Move in with me."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his voice, the raw need that laced every word. You could see how much the time apart had affected him, how deeply he had missed you, just as you had missed him.

It was everything you had wanted, everything you had dreamed of. But you couldn't ignore the practicalities, the reality of your situation.

“I could finish my degree remotely."

He blinked, surprised by the suggestion. "Remotely?"

You nodded again, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Yeah. A lot of schools are offering that now, you know? I could do my classes from your home. We wouldn't have to be apart anymore."

The idea began to take shape in your mind, and the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. You wouldn't have to face those lonely nights in your dorm, wondering when you'd get to see him again.

"But what about Abby?" you asked, still wanting to be sure that this would work for everyone. "What about you? I don't want to be a burden..."

Mike's smile softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and steady. "You're not a burden. Abby loves you, and I..." He paused, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. "I need you with me. We'll make it work, I promise."

A smile slowly spread across your face, and you nodded, feeling a sense of excitement and relief wash over you. "Okay," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. "Let's do it."

"I can't wait to wake up every morning with you all curled up on me like a koala," he said with a soft chuckle, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back. "You always do that, you know? Cling to me like I'm your personal pillow."

You laughed quietly, the sound filled with affection. "You are pretty comfortable," you teased, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. "I can't help it if you're the perfect shape for cuddling."

You lifted your head slightly, a smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him. "And I can't wait to hear you snore loudly every night," you quipped, your tone just as playful.

Mike pretended to be offended, his eyes widening in mock indignation. "I do not snore that badly!" he protested, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress your grin. "Oh really? Then why does Abby always ask to close the door to her room?" you shot back, knowing full well the answer.

Mike blinked, caught off guard for a moment, before a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. "Okay, maybe I snore a little," he admitted, his tone begrudgingly good-natured.

"A little?" you echoed, your grin widening as you playfully poked his side. "Mike, you sound like a chainsaw sometimes."

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that made your heart feel light and happy. "I guess that just means you'll have to get used to it," he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. "Because you're stuck with me now"

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a contentment that you knew would last far beyond this moment. "I wouldn't have it any other way," you murmured, your voice soft but filled with certainty.

Mike smiled, pulling you even closer, as if he never wanted to let you go. "Me neither," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3.

[jellyfishhutcherson]

oh shit havent posted in a hot minute 🙈 my bad hotties

[jealousjersey]

౨ৎ⋆˚౨ “be a good boy” ৎ⋆｡౨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 request by anon

ᡣ𐭩 sub!clapton x dom!reader

ᡣ𐭩 mentions // “good boy” , “mommy”, fem reader, female parts

ᡣ𐭩 tags // clapton davis x reader, soft!dom , edging, use of “mommy” as referred to reader, pet names , begging , unprotected p in v (wrap it) , oral sex, reader giving , dick sucking , cum drinking , blurb!

clapton has always teased you. whether it was your hair, your clothes or just you in general. and god it was pissing you off. you knew it had to root from some sick crush he has on you but it went so much deeper than that.

that is until you got to be alone with him. it’s like as soon as he came over to your house for some project, he was putty in your hands

“god….just please fuck me” he whimpers as your lips wrap about his tip, using your tongue as you swipe it just on his slit, causing precum to drip out of him.

“you know, you’ve been really bad these last few months, do you think you deserve to be punished? it’s only fair, don’t you think?” you remove your mouth from him and kiss his shaft, leaving lip gloss marks on the parts of him you can’t take in your mouth.

“y- yes mommy. i’ve been bad, please- please punish me. i’ll be a good boy for you….ill be your good boy” he whimpers, his hand almost desperate to push your head down to engulf his aching cock before he stops himself.

“now tell me, do you think you deserve to cum baby? tell me. do you think you deserve it?” you say, no remorse behind your eyes. you love seeing him like this, sweaty and down bad for you.

he shakes his head slowly as a look of defeat washes over him. he knows he doesn’t deserve to be inside you but god, how he wants it so badly. he’ll do almost anything for the taste of your cum.

“but i’ll spare you. i’ll fuck you, but you’ll have to be quiet if you want to cum, can you do that for me? be quiet for me?” you say as you press a kiss on his tip.

“y- yes…mommy.. uh - i…i can do that” he whimpers. but god knows he can’t keep quiet to save his life, always little whimpers and noises coming out of him. you remove your panties, the wetness pooling out of you. you push him back on the bed as you sit comfortably on his throbbing cock, making him whimper at the sensation of being inside your soft wet pussy

his eyes fall to the site of your thighs wrapped around him, his face turning red as he starts bouncing you on top of him, expertly hitting your gspot each time. “i- am- am i being good for you-?” he whimpers as his hands grip your hips, his eyes rolling back in his head as his jaw goes slack.

you look at him, grasping his chin with your hand, making him look at you. “look at me while i use you, let me ruin you. gonna make you such a little slut for me” you say. “gonna be my little whore right?” you say, still gripping his chin with your thumb and index finger, waiting for a response.

“m-mhm, yeah. gonna be your slut- oh fuck mommy-“ he says, his dick twitching inside of you, signaling he’s about to cum.

but god, he’s been so bad these last few weeks you can’t let him off that easily. you remove yourself from off top of him, watching your own release pool out of him, directly on his dick.

he immediately whimpers “no no no, please mommy- come back please…i need to cum- please mommy i’ve been so good” his voice is high and needy, his eyes are worried and panicked.

god, you can’t say no to him. you wrap your plus lips over the head of his dick, bobbing on his dick. your eyes dart up at him- his jaw is slack and his eyes are rolled deep in his head,

“fuck- yes…please mommy, god please.” he whimpers as a loud grunt escapes him. “be quiet if you want to cum” you say, mouth still full of his cock.

he quiets at your request, only letting small soft moans escape his lips. you take his full shaft. after a few moments you feel his hands grip your hair, and his dick twitching in your mouth.

“f- fuck i….m’gonna cum-“ he moans as he thrusts into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. thank god you don’t have a gag reflex.

soon enough thick white warmness shots down your throat, drinking up every bit of his cum. he removes himself from your mouth, you truly drank every last drop of him. short and quiet “thank you”s leave him as he pants.

you wish he would talk back more often.

[jhutchismyl0verb0y]

[loveyu4]

AUGHHHHH

why has nobody talked about this edit i’m obsessed with it (the quality is way better on their tt)

[connor-rk800]

A Bloodhound’s Rehabilitation

The Final Chapter is up!!

A slow burn RK1K story that follows the immediate aftermath of the game, including Hank, Alice, Gavin, post-revolution Jericho, character-based shenanigans, and an exploration of Connor’s guilt and identity. It's about found family, grief, love in perilous times, and putting Connor through the fucking wringer all for him to finally feel like he deserves the peace he gets in the end.

Tags: Hank Anderson & Connor, Markus/Connor, Gavin Reed & Connor, Alice Williams & Connor

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55689172/chapters/141363133

[simon-writes-occasionally]

College!Sean Anderson x Gender Neutral!Reader

This Isn't What I Had in Mind for my "College Journey"

Getting Sean Anderson as your roommate in college was the whirlwind of change you thought only happened in movies. When he gets a message from his uncle about having finally located Atlantis after years of searching, Sean asks you to come with. You end up getting a bit more than you bargained for...

In which I basically rewrite the entire second movie

Here it is!

It's kinda my first attempt at a fanfic that isn't oneshots so let me know what y'all think as it goes

[solarissun]

Intro/Masterlist

About me: 

❥  Hi, I’m Lucy! I’m 20 years old, and my pronouns are she/her. I’m helplessly in love with Josh Hutcherson and Milo Manheim.

❥  I’m not exactly new to fan fiction writing, but i’ve never ever posted my works until I made this account. Ever since I started writing fics, it’s been my dream to have other people read and enjoy my work, so every comment and repost means the world to me!

❥ Also, please feel free to leave me any questions or requests! I’d love to write out your guys ideas.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

Who i’ll write for:

Josh’s characters: Clapton, Mike, Derek, Sean, Futturman, Billy and maybe Peeta

Milo’s characters: Ryan, Wally, Zed, Nico (This is mainly a Jhutch account, but I also have some Milo fan followers.)

(I have over 20 celeb crushes but I’m trying to keep this account to my two main ones…)

╞═════════════════

Things I WILL write: 

• Smut, fluff, angst, oneshots

Things I WONT write:

• extreme/downright nasty kinks or fetishes 

• immoral/illegal kinks

• I will not write for real people. It’s just something I feel uncomfortable doing.

I’ve only written for female characters, but I am 100% open to writing gender nuteral and male characters! 

My works

Mike Schmidt 

We are never, ever getting back together. (18+)

Summary: You moved houses and jobs just to get away from Mike after he abandoned you and your 6-year relationship. But, one day he shows up in the vacant apartment next to yours. You quickly make it your mission to make every night a living hell for him with the (unknowing) help of your old high school fling.

WC: 6.8k (so far)

type: fluff/smut/angst, fem!reader

pt 1 pt2

╞═════════════════

Clapton Davis

We are never, ever getting back together. (18+)

type: smut, fem!reader

(first chapter only)

✩✩✩✩

Teenage dream

Summary: You have a crush on your best friend, Clapton, and soon he finds out. (request)

WC: 1k

type: fluff, male!reader

Read here

╞═════════════════

Derek Danforth

Bad idea, right? (18+)

Summary: You drunkenly bump into Derek at one of his parties.

WC: 2.5k

type: smut, fem!reader

Read here

[sleepyhutcherson]

write for sean anderson!! your fics r so good

using this ask as a disclaimer!

(anon, i know u didn’t mention smut but i’m just using ur ask just to let everyone know! if you have a fluff/angst req for sean, put it in my inbox and i’ll get to it!)

i do write for sean, but honestly i just haven’t written much for him lol because i haven’t seen that movie and have no idea how he acts and stuff but i will say, i wont be writing smut for specifically this character considering i saw somewhere he was 17? im not sure but yeah im not doing that so to those who have requested that, please dont. and for the few fluff sean requests ive gotten— im not ignoring your request trust i just haven’t watched that movieeee ><

i will also for SURE be willing to write fluff/angst whenever i get around to watch this movie :3

[whatcruelworldisthis]

josh hutcherson character imagines

*disclaimer i am obsessed with sean anderson but most of these imagines apply to peeta, sean and sometimes clapton so feel free to mix according to preference*

♦ - fluff

♥ - smut 18+!!

♠ - angst/hurt (with comfort)

PEETA MELLARK :

always ♠

golden ♦

lovers rock ♦

sweet ♠♦ (mentions of smut)

SEAN ANDERSON :

dearly ♦♥

inexperienced ♥♦

innocent pt. 1 ♦♠

innocent pt. 2 (final) ♦

CLAPTON DAVIS :

hopelessly in love ♦

[freak-accident419]

me trying to figure out what people want from me for part 3 of my burn fic

[1989luvr]

IM FINALLY ON WINTER BREAK 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 i did put requests on hold so i could focus on finals and I PASSED ALL MY FINALS so requests are back open and i will be working on them! i'm so so so sorry for the inconvenience 😢🙏

[jellyfishhutcherson]

happy xmas eve!! jhutch gallery #4 for yall

[jealousjersey]

₊࿔*:･୧”too sweet”₊˚࿔*:･୧

pairing // mike schmidt x gn!reader fluff

mentions // purely fluff just some nice and sweet content, pet names, reader is overwhelmed and stressed with everything and mike uplifts you, y/n isn’t mentioned, reader in college, reader and mike are in a situationship, mentions of being cheated on by past shitty gender unspecified partner

1.4k wc

tags // mike schmidt x reader fluff, purely fluff fic, pet names, slight angst

authors note // yes this is inspired by too sweet by hozier i’ve played it 18 times today (still listening to it) also per request (ty anon) fluff

school is kicking your ass. the lectures are too long and not informative at all, although you’ve had exams all week, they never seem to contain the information you’re supposedly learning.

you don’t even live on campus so you constantly feel like you’re missing out on important events and information. it’s truly exhausting.

that is until you get home, you’ve been in a situationship with this security guard worker, mike. you’ve talked and had dates, even had sex a few times but it doesn’t suffice you. you were made to be a lover, but right now you’re just a piece of ass. you want mike to love you, well, right now it feels more than a need. you want to finally receive the love that you give.

once your classes are done, you leave campus. taking the subway back to your apartment, luckily you don’t live too far, but not close enough to walk. and instead of wasting gas on driving to and from school, so why not take the safer option and just take the train?

as you arrive at your apartment, you finally get to lay down on your bed. you feel a tear fall from your eyes but you’re not sure why. today wasn’t too bad…but your body’s reaction is telling you different. you check the time and wait-

it’s the 2 year anniversary of your ex cheating on you, well atleast it’s the anniversary of the day you found out. you check the date and you get flashbacks, flashbacks to you coming to surprise them at their house for your 1 year together.

you arrive with tickets to some indie concert in hand. but instead you were practically hit in the face with realization as you saw her. she looked…perfect. you still wonder how they ended up with her. but let’s face it, you knew there was signs. but you chose to ignore them.

as of now, you’re laying face down on your bed, basically crying at this point. your breath hitches as you just lay there, helpless. until suddenly

knock knock

“hey? anyone here?” you hear a familiar voice enter your house. it’s mike schmidt, the man you’ve been talking to for a few months. wait a second-

“how did you get in?” you question. you thought you locked the door but apparently not.

“oh, the door was halfway open. wanted to check to see if you were being robbed” he says as he gets a good look at you “shit are you okay?” he asks worried, staring at your puffy face, your swollen eyes as tears leak from them.

his worry makes you feel better. you’ve waited on somebody to actually care about how you were, not just ask without remorse in their eyes. but mike actually cares, and it feels good. it feels like he gives you a little sliver of comfort.

“yeah, i’m fine…schools kicking my ass and-” you cut yourself off, he’s just a fling, why does he get to know your personal problems? but something inside you just tells you to come clean. “2 years ago today i went through hell with my ex. he cheated and things went…down from there you could say.” you open up, not wanting to share anything that could bring back more deep memories- maybe mentioning the abuse would be too far.

“oh baby, i’m sorry. you need me here with you? i can get take out and we can watch one of your weird cartoons” he says. you chuckle. does he mean anime? you don’t even watch it that much, maybe he’s basing his suspicions on the death slayer poster in your room that you got because it looked cool. i mean, you only watched a episode or two. it might make you a poser but it looks good in your room so what’s the harm?

“yeah, take out sounds great. and we can just watch a movie or something.” you smile at his request, your eyes still puffy. mike notices this and sits next to you on your bed, bringing a hand to your cheek as he gently brushes a thumb over your eye bags, taking in the darkness.

“i’m gonna be right back, you want take out chinese food?” he asks with a smile as he presses a kiss onto your cheek. you slightly nod.

“gotta use your words baby” he teases you. “yes, chinese food is perfect” you smile “amazing, i’ll be back in 30. don’t fall asleep” he says as he points a finger in your direction and smiles softly

30 minutes pass, you just stay in your bed until he arrives, he walks in without knocking. “baby, i’m here” he yells, arms full with bags of chinese food. god, how much did he get?

you silently laugh to yourself at the site: mike with both hands carrying giant take out bags that say “thank you” with a smile face, his keys on his mouth and his pinky closing the door. it’s…really funny to be honest.

you snap out of your daze and run to help him, taking the bags out his hands and placing them on your kitchen island. you see him huff out a short breath, taking the keys out of his mouth and hanging them on the key holder.

you place a short kiss on his lips “thank you love” you say. a blush creeps onto his face. he wonders why he’s feeling so intense at your small gesture, i mean it’s not like you two are official….

you two get cuddled up on the couch together. he always said your couch is weird, two seats with a middle compartment in the center, dividing the chairs. he says it’s not ideal for cuddling but you make it work, the chairs aren’t small per say, but you can both fit on k it with ease, kicking up the leg so you can both lay comfortably.

you put on some movie that was recommended through the roku app. it doesn’t matter what movie it was, it just matters that you had mike with you.

soon enough he’s yawning, the mint aroma coming from his mouth isn’t bad. it’s kinda nice. before he could close his mouth fully you kiss him gently, wanting more of that mint taste. he returns the kiss, using the same pace you started.

as you let go, you ask the dreaded question. “do you want to be with me? romantically?” he stops and freezes before speaking. “honey, you’re too good for me- i..i’m not the best person. you’re full of love, i don’t want you to waste it on me, you’re too sweet for me.” he says. you look confused, you know you want to love him. why isn’t he accepting?

“but i want to be with you. i want to love you, and if im being honest i think i kind of already do.” you say after a moment.

“you…really?” he looks confused, almost baffled by your statement. do you really want to love him? like fully and truly?

“god yes mike, I try not to call but there’s some days that i really, really want to. i want to hear your voice, i want to hear you laugh. hell, i even want to smell your cologne. but i stop myself because i know you want something casual.” you blurt out.

“who said i wanted casual? baby i was waiting for you to say that. i think ive been in love with you since we first started talking. it sounds cheesy i know, but i really do.” he responds, making your heart flutter for a moment as you blink, suddenly feeling his breath against your ear.

“i only want you” he whispers, putting emphasis on only. immediately you blush more than ever in his presence. “really?” you can’t help but whisper back. is this really happening? are you about to have a boyfriend?

“really. you are the only person i ever want to be with. promise” he says as he puts his pinky out, asking for yours. sealing it with a pinky promise. he knows you’re serious about those so him doing this for you means a lot.

“you’re the only person i want to be with mike, has been that way since i think i first spoke to you. were so dumb” you laugh.

“yeah but we’re dumb together” he chuckles back as he holds you closer to him.

“so….are we dating or what?” you ask, popping your lips after “so”.

“let me ask you” he fixes his messy hair and uses a takeout napkin as a tie around his neck. “would you like to date me” he says sincerely, still a hint of laughing under his voice.

“fuck it, sure” you laugh as you bury yourself into his neck.