#later and i had to go find it and it was so much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suzdin · 1 day ago

Text

Home Is Wherever I’m With You

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After the tragic loss of your father and home, you find yourself at the mercy of a cold, detached stranger who holds your fate in his hands during a violent snowstorm.

Notes: okay fair warning, I started writing this when I was feeling extremely low, and finished it several weeks later when I was doing better, so if it seems disjointed and sloppily thrown together, that’s why! But I swear there’s a happy ending!

Warnings: ANGST!!! I cannot stress the amount of angst. Suicidal thoughts and ideation, especially at the beginning. Alcohol consumption. Main character deaths; all of them. Lots of depression and poor mental health, mostly with Joel. Angsty!Joel, asshole!Joel, soft!Joel, semi-dom!Joel, protective!Joel, masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), face riding, unprotected p in v, creampie, biting/marking, pregnancy heavily hinted at, more angst

Word Count: 7,100+

dividers provided by: @saradika-graphics ❣️

Tags: @ohheypedrito @kateispunk @kellybelly1978 @berryispunk @chronically-ghosted @morallyinept @natdeandar @guelyury @daddy-dins-girl

Joel crouches in front of the old cast iron stove, his knees groaning in protest as he stokes the embers within using an extra scrap of wood.

He doesn’t know why he’s going through the trouble. It isn’t like he’ll be around much longer. Maybe he just wants to feel warmth one last time before he does it. And this time, he won’t miss.

He’ll be cold soon enough anyway.

He gets the fire breathing again, closing the hatch and settling back into the old leather recliner in the corner, worn and cracking with age, much like himself.

He palms the neck on a bottle of bourbon, taking a hefty swig and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, his face crinkling in rumination as he watches the flames dance behind slats of iron.

Sarah. Tess. Tommy. And then Ellie. He had failed each and every one of them; those he claimed to love, who he vowed to keep safe. He had let them down. He had let himself down.

He takes another pull on the bottle and sets it down heavily on the table next to him, replacing it with his Smith & Wesson, heavy digits curling around the grip.

He traces the scar on his temple with the point of his index finger, feeling the faint indentation in the flesh; a constant reminder of yet another failure.

He lowers his hand back to the revolver, finger circling the trigger guard, dark eyes downcast as he attempts to summon the strength to do what he needs to do. Again.

His hand tremors as he lifts the gun and presses the cold barrel to his temple, thumb cocking the hammer back with a hollow metallic clunk that resonates through his skull and soul.

“C’mon, Joel. Get yourself fucking together for once.”

His eyes close, nose scrunched in a deep scowl.

Just do it, Joel. Pull the fucking trigger.

The ball of his index finger curves around the bend of the trigger, twitching with indecision when the back door to the cabin abruptly flies open, temporarily snapping him out of his psychosis.

It’s just the wind. That’s all it is. A gust of wind from the incoming snowstorm.

He doesn’t move from his space on the recliner. The cold won’t matter in a few seconds anyway. He lifts the barrel to his temple again, aligning it just right…

The back door clicks shut. It wasn’t slammed, like the wind would have done had it been the culprit. It very audibly clicked. Like someone or something shut it themselves.

Immediately following the click, he hears the unmistakable scrape of boots on wood, the revolver lowering from offensive to defensive position.

No sooner do you get the door closed that you notice a faint flicker of light from the adjoining room, your heart beginning to thrum like a jackhammer in your chest. From the outside, in your weary state, the dilapidated old cabin looked abandoned as far as you could tell, realizing too late that it isn’t.

But now you’ve stumbled into someone’s den, and they could very well be armed and aiming to shoot. They could even be cannibals for all you know.

You could leave. You could just leave and pretend this never happened. But you haven’t seen any other shelters for miles… and the storm was only going to get worse.

“Who’s there?” a gruff male voice calls out from the other room, breaking through the stifling silence. You go stock still on instinct, your hackles bristled along your spine.

When you’re able to gather your bearings, you respond with your name, your vocal cords numb and strained from the cold.

“I mean no harm. I just need a place to sleep out of the storm. I promise to leave at first light,” you quickly add.

Joel stiffens when he hears a woman’s voice, his finger still circling the trigger guard as it had only moments before when the gun was trained on himself.

“Are you armed?”

“Just a small pistol and a jack knife. And I’m out of ammo,” you call back truthfully.

Everything is quiet for a moment aside from the crackle of flame and the howl of wind that rattles the windows and bends the outer wood. The silence between you and the unseen man feels like it stretches on for ages.

“Approach the door with your hands raised. An’ when I say, slide the gun and knife over to me.”

“Alright,” you reply quietly, approaching the ajar door in front of you, hands already skyward, kicking the door the rest of the way open with the toe of your boot.

You step forward two paces into the room, the scent of alcohol stinging your nostrils, your gaze settling on a haggard looking man in the furthest corner from you. His hair is wild and askew, eyes sunken in like a corpse, recognizing the hopeless glint behind them; no doubt a reflection of your own. A large pistol is clutched in his meaty fist, cocked and aimed.

“Gun first. Then the knife,” Joel says, his brow angled downward in a dark line, shading the even darker set of eyes.

You keep one hand in the air as the other reaches into the band of your jeans, removing the pistol and sliding it to him, stilling as it hits his boot.

He picks it up, discharging the clip to find that it is indeed empty, as you had claimed. He sets it next to the bourbon.

You slide the knife next, an average, run of the mill jack knife with a four inch blade. He inspects it, noticing a few remnants of blood still tarnishing the steel.

“Who’d you kill with this?”

“I used it to skin hares and squirrels.”

His face pinches with confusion, tilting his head at you like a dog hearing an unknown sound for the first time.

“Y’skinned hares and squirrels with a jack knife?” he questions doubtfully.

“It’s all I had,” you explain.

Joel eyes you warily. You’re definitely not dressed or equipped for this kind of weather. The only thing that seems to be keeping you warm is a thin hoodie, a regular set of jeans, and a pair of boots soaked through with snow.

He sighs. He isn’t going to kill himself with you here. He may not be the nicest or most caring man in the world, but he isn’t about to traumatize you. He’ll wait until you leave. You said you’d leave at first light.

In the meantime, he has to deal with someone being in his space, which he doesn’t exactly want to do, especially in his last hours. But he isn’t about sending you to your death, either. You probably have more to live for than he does.

“Here,” he says, kicking an old wicker chair toward you. “Your feet’re soaked. Take off your boots and warm your feet ‘fore you get frostbite.”

You lower your arms and take a cautious step forward, and then another, slowly sinking into the flimsy and rotten chair, bending to unlace and remove your boots.

You try to wiggle your toes but they won’t move, at least not yet. Joel watches with a scrutinizing glare, his hand still on the Smith & Wesson in his lap.

“What’s your name?” you ask him, pushing your boots aside.

“Ain’t important.”

You cast him a look but don’t press, scooting your sore and frozen feet closer to the stove, feeling yourself starting to slowly defrost.

You thank him for letting you stay.

He ignores your gratitude, dark browns drifting over your frame.

“Where’d you come from?” he asks.

“Ain’t important,” you counter, casting him another glance.

He leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees, pinning you with a deep scowl.

“I’m the one with the gun,” he chides in a deep timbre, his tone brooking no room for protest. “Guns,” he quickly amends.

Your eyes lock with his momentarily, assessing his conviction before deciding not to test it.

“A settlement near Billings.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

He leans back, his gaze unmoving, letting out a breath through his nose.

“An’ exactly what prompted you to run out into a snowstorm with just a hoodie and no supplies?” he asks.

You flinch as if he’d just backhanded you, averting your gaze. If you were looking, you might notice his face softening, if only just a hair.

“Raiders came into our settlement. My father… he gave me the pistol and distracted them while I snuck under a gap in the fence. I didn’t have time to grab anything else,” you tell him.

“And your dad?” Joel asks delicately.

“Didn’t make it out,” you reply grimly, your body beginning to tremor, a combination of repressed emotion and your muscles beginning to thaw.

Joel falls silent, absorbing your words as truth. He can’t find a reason that you would lie about something like that.

“I’m sorry,” he sympathizes, his voice gentling.

You bring your knees to your chest, your chin resting between them, arms wrapped around your shins.

“Thank you,” you say again, your voice hardly above a whisper.

——

Your eyes snap open, realizing you must have drifted off at some point, finding yourself curled into a fetal position directly in front of the dying fire.

A blanket you’re sure wasn’t there before is wrapped around your frame. You’ve no idea where it came from, it’s a bit scratchy and smells funky, but what matters is it’s warm, subconsciously pulling it tighter around your shoulders when you feel a chilled breeze brush over you through the cracks in the wall.

“Mornin’,” Joel hums softly above you.

“Morning,” you echo, shifting as your eyes scan the room, the cabin just as dark and cloaked in shadow as when you arrived. You’re unsure how he knows what time of day it is, but you decide not to question it.

He’s in almost the exact position in the old recliner as the previous evening, his hand unmoving from the revolver still in his lap. You can’t help but wonder if he had any rest at all, not sure if him watching you sleep should be comforting or disconcerting.

You sit up with a stretch, your joints crackling like twigs as you work out the aches of not only having traveled this far on foot, but also sleeping on a hard wooden floor all night.

Better than freezing to death, you decide.

You scoot until your back is flush with the wall, leaning against it as you silently study Joel.

“Thank you for the blanket—“ you begin, but he quickly cuts you off with a hard glare, nudging your dried out boots to you with his foot.

“Boots’re dry. It’s morning. ‘bout time for you to leave,” he says, his voice low and rough.

It dawns on you that it’s still dark because the storm hasn’t lessened at all, banks of snow clogging the windows and doors, blocking out what little available sunlight there is.

Your brow knits together and you cast him a wary glance, bottom lip trembling.

“But it… it’s…”

“The deal was first light, darlin’, and I’ve given you plenty more than that.”

“Please… just… a few more hours? Until the storm dies down some?” you plead, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes, preemptively threatening to freeze your eyelids together.

He’s silent and contemplative for what you feel is longer than necessary, a muscle fluttering in his jaw.

He knows he should send you away, even if it means a certain death. He can’t have you here, swimming in his grief, prolonging the inevitable.

The other option, of course, is to shoot you and then himself, a swift and merciful death that you deserve far more than he does. His fist tightens around the butt of the revolver, an action that does not go unnoticed by you.

“No,” he says plainly.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” you say, your voice cracking with emotion and desperation, shifting to your knees as you shuffle a few inches closer to his chair. He did give you a blanket, so there is a human being in there somewhere. “I can’t—“

“I can barely take care of myself, much less another person. Ain’t nothing you can offer me, nothing to barter with—“

“I’ll let you keep my gun and knife. Please. Just a few more hours…”

His jaw ticks again. Your odds are already low as is, but liberating you of your only means of defense, your only means of perhaps obtaining a meal, if only a meager squirrel or hare, would completely diminish any shred of a chance you have left.

He could give you his one and only jacket. Not that he’s going to need it after you leave, anyway.

“No,” he says again, more sternly than before.

His gaze is unmoving from yours, the slow, steady circling of his pointer finger on the edge of the trigger guard doing little to settle your nerves, the conflict apparent behind his dark eyes.

You know you don’t have much to offer. You’re not great at hunting. You’d exhausted your entire clip on what barely qualifies as a meal, leaving you with very little sustenance once the bullet had almost completely obliterated any viable meat.

You can’t fight or shoot worth a damn, either. Your father had tried to teach you in vain, his frustration with you growing to a fever pitch over the years, but it had never been your forte.

Because you never thought you’d have to live without him.

You can scout. Gather. Keep the cabin up, replace rotting boards and rusting nails, keep it clean and tidy. But not in this weather, and not for a few months yet.

So you default to the last thing you know how to do well. The only thing you know without a shadow of a doubt you’re good at, if any of the men at your settlement had anything to say about it before they perished.

You inch closer, your tired knees scraping against the dirty, splintered wood, hands trembling as you hesitantly reach toward his parted knees.

He anticipates more begging and pleading. Maybe a sob story or two.

What he doesn’t expect is for your hands to grab his belt, the meat of your palm ghosting over his crotch as you fumble to undo the worn rungs of leather.

His cock twitches instinctively and he can’t recall the last time a woman touched him like this. Made him feel anything but dead inside.

He moves with a sudden swiftness that surprises and startles both of you, the hand not currently on the revolver grabbing hold of your wrist like a striking serpent, his grip biting into your delicate bones so roughly you realize how effortless it would be for him to snap your wrist, should he feel so inclined.

He rises to his feet, dragging you with him and giving you a hard, reprimanding shake, teeth bared inches from your face.

It occurs to you seeing him fully upright like this just how tall, how imposing he is; worn, threadbare flannel stretched to its limits across broad shoulders and thick biceps.

“Christ, woman, the hell is wrong with you? What kind of man do you take me for?” he growls, a subtle twang piping up in his voice, his clenched fist releasing your wrist with a minor shove. You stumble backwards, catching yourself on the wall.

His nostrils flare, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, his eyes slipping shut as he tempers his simmering anger… and something else he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“Fuck,” he grunts, eyes slowly opening again, rough digits carding through his graying curls. “If it means that much to you… you stay until the snow stops, an’ not a second later,” he nearly spits in your face. “Got it?”

When you easily nod in agreement, he stalks out of the room with a huff, every heavy footfall vibrating beneath your feet, slamming the door shut between you, leaving you standing there in the middle of the room, alone and unsure what to feel.

—

Joel goes into the now defunct bathroom, the traditional porcelain toilet that was maybe brand new decades ago currently unusable, the water in the tank and plumbing frozen solid, the pipes under the earth most likely cracked and warped.

He drops trow and leans forward with the flat of one palm against the wall, the other hand gripping himself.

He lets out a shaky breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding in, pissing into the cistern he had dug under the cabin two summers ago, a task only made more difficult by the partial erection he now has thanks to your — albeit brief — touch a few moments ago.

“Fuck, Joel,” he sighs as he empties his bladder, his cock only growing stiffer in his hand as he imagines how good your lips would have felt wrapped around him, what kind of pretty sounds you would have made for him.

“Fuck,” he grits again, cramming his painfully hard erection into his jeans when he’s done.

—

Hours turn to days, days to weeks, weeks to months — “until the snow melts an’ not a day later” — spring not far around the corner, the sun growing brighter and hotter in the sky with each passing day.

Joel’s suicidal ideations were still an ever present plague on his brain, though he kept that part of himself tucked neatly away, as he did most things that were personal and private. He never spoke of Sarah, Ellie, anyone. Never talked about his life before Outbreak.

In turn, you never talked about yours either, aside from what you’d told him the first night, too frightened that you might scare him away simply by opening up, by trying to stitch together what little relationship you had with one another.

The more time you spent with him, the more of a burden you began to feel. It didn’t matter how much you helped out, even if you kept a respectful distance between you, especially when he seemed extra bristly or in his head that day. He was always skulking about, his face pinched in indignation in what you were certain was unspoken hatred for you and your existence.

It was early morning and you were at the edge of the valley, the spot near the treeline that was choked with underbrush, gathering pathetically small handfuls of wild strawberries and huckleberries that were just beginning to fruit. Definitely not enough to have much impact on your aching bellies, but it could be supplemental to whatever protein Joel could scrounge up, which hadn’t been much as of late.

You wipe a fresh layer of sweat from your brow despite the air still being bitterly cold, collecting what meager pittance of berries you can, sucking in a breath of air as you steeled your nerves to head back to the cabin.

—

Joel’s door is still closed when you return. Not surprising, considering how early you’d gotten up that morning, Joel likely still exhausted and aching from the ineffectual hunting trip the previous day.

You place the berries into a bowl on the counter, your fingers curling into the peeling linoleum as you stare out the window that overlooks the southern end of the valley, sun cresting through the twisted and gnarled branches of still-bare trees.

You’ve been milling around the idea of leaving for weeks now. You’ve come close to doing so several times, knowing it would make Joel happy to not have you on his mind or in his space anymore.

Your hand hovers near the hunting rifle slanted against the wall, ultimately deciding against it as you tuck your pistol and knife into your pants, tossing half of the berries into a bag and shrugging on the jacket Joel had found for you on a hunting trip.

You take a final glance at his door before sucking in another sharp breath, opening and closing the back door for what you assume to be the last time.

—

Joel hears you return only to leave again a few minutes later. He thinks little of it, something you do frequently throughout the day when foraging or inspecting snares.

He wishes he could express his gratitude to you, thank you for how much you help out. How much you’ve improved his life just by being here. It kills him to see how you shrink away every time he enters the room, but he understands why. He hasn’t given you a reason not to.

Once he’s sure you’re out of earshot, he resumes pumping himself, hips bucking into his fist seconds before spurting hot ribbons of come onto his lower abdomen, eyes rolling back in his skull, your name a curse on his tongue as he imagines your mouth working him over in place of his fist.

As much as he’s wanted to touch you, sink himself into you every night, he’s been too afraid. Afraid to even speak to you, afraid of becoming attached only to lose you, like he’s lost all the others.

—

When you don’t return by mid day, he begins to worry.

He tries not to. He tries to tell himself maybe you decided to forage a little longer than usual, or maybe you’re at the river searching for freshwater clams since the weather is slowly beginning to warm.

Still, he can’t shake the feeling that something is off. That something is wrong.

He finds the bowl of fresh berries on the counter, evident that you had been foraging at least part of the day. But it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t good enough for him.

When you don’t return by nightfall, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that something is wrong.

This isn’t you.

—

Two days pass and you realize just how badly you fucked up.

The berries barely made a dent in your hunger and the only other food you managed to find were a few wild mushrooms that you’re pretty sure weren’t the edible kind, if the half gallon of resulting vomit an hour later was any sort of indication.

You fucked up. You fucked up royally and you miss the cabin. You miss the warm stove and the bed Joel made for you close to the fire. You miss how he always kept you fed and protected, even if you’re certain he hates you.

You miss Joel. You miss his grunts, you miss the way his face pinches when he glowers. You miss what he looks like when he chews, almost like he’s angry at his food somehow. You miss his smell when he comes home covered in grime and sweat from a full day of hunting.

Dusk has fallen on your second day without food or water, your bones feeling like powder and your muscles like jelly. You’re exhausted, head pounding with a combination of fatigue and hunger as you take shelter from the wind in a small outcropping of rocks, wishing he was here with you.

You’ll go back tomorrow, you decide.

—

Joel watches the sun sink behind the horizon of trees, cloaking the surrounding forest in near darkness.

He knows he should stop to rest for the night. Like you, he left in a rush without grabbing much in way of supplies or sustenance, but had been lucky to graze a buck that he was passively tracking while searching for you. He’ll likely find it soon.

He periodically came across fresh deer imprints in the earth, clean tracks slowly changing to drag marks, indicating the buck was either dead or close to death.

But you were constantly at the forefront of his mind. You were his focus. His reason to keep going. His reason for continuing to live.

And when he finds a perfect indentation of your left boot moments before the sun lowers completely from the sky, he knows he can’t afford to stop now.

—

It’s still dark when you wake up, your eyes coming into focus along the faint edges of what you can see, which isn’t much. Some rocks. Some trees.

You shift, rolling to your opposite side to go back to sleep, tucking your hands under your cheek as a makeshift pillow. A breeze blows over you, made stronger by the funnel of rocks, and you shiver, pulling your jacket tighter.

Snap.

Your eyes fly open again, immediately jumping to your haunches as you palm the pistol next to you.

You train your ears toward the source of the sound, somewhere in the trees, listening intently, your mind on shuffle with all the possibilities of what it could be.

It didn’t sound large enough to be a bear. A puma, perhaps, one who didn’t seem to be hunting you, hopefully, due to how loud the sound was.

Infected? A slim possibility. Rare up here, but not unheard of, which left you with the most likely option: it was human.

You attempt to still your breath, your fist white knuckled around the butt of the gun. It’s too dark to see anything, and all you hear is the soft whistle of the wind.

—

Joel registers the sound of you shifting from somewhere up the incline above him, limbs turning to stone as his mind cycles through all the same scenarios as you.

He lost your tracks halfway through the night, finding himself going in circles, so it’s quite possible it’s not you he’s just stumbled upon.

He slowly removes the rifle from his shoulder, lifting it to half mast in case whomever he’s stumbled across is hostile… or infected.

“I’m armed!” he calls out, lifting the rifle to a defensive position with the butt pressed to his shoulder. “I have no beef with you if you have none with me,” he adds.

You swear your heart stops, tears suddenly stinging your eyes with salt.

“J-Joel?” you whimper, almost imperceptible, but it’s just loud enough.

Joel can only react, unthinking, responding on muscle memory alone as he somehow manages to traverse the steep, rocky incline in seconds without eating it.

You jump upright to your feet, despite how weak you are, and before your brain even has a chance to tell your legs to move, you’re struck by a wall of muscle, thick arms coiling around you and pulling you against his chest.

“Thank god, thank god,” Joel sobs into your hair as he drags you down to the ground with him, his voice softer than you can ever remember, the wetness of his tears soaking through your shirt. “I thought I’d lost you…” he whispers, his voice wavering.

He inhales your scent deeply, his hold on you nearly painful, but you don’t mind, your face against his chest as your own tears start to fall.

—

“I’m sorry,” Joel murmurs softly as you’re walking back the following day, glancing over at you, dark brown eyes gently regarding your side profile in the early morning light. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t care. I just…”

“I know,” you respond, pausing to collect your breath and your thoughts. “I know why you did it. I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I scared you…”

“Hey,” he says, gently cupping your jaw as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, calloused thumb tracing your jawbone, pausing at your bottom lip. “S’okay.”

Your lips pucker, impervious to stop yourself from planting a small kiss to the pad of his thumb as it brushes your lip.

He lets out a low breath, his hand snaking around to the nape of your neck, fingers lacing through your hair as he tugs you closer, lips crashing against yours in a passionate, heated kiss that flows trembling from him with every fiber of withheld emotion and desire.

—

You arrive at the cabin half a day later, impressed but not surprised by how swiftly Joel was able to navigate both of you back safely.

He even successfully locates the downed buck, stiff with rigor mortis and cold, half chewed by a pack of wolves that scatter with a single rifle shot fired over their heads, the large animal now dragging listlessly behind Joel as you finally break through the barrier of trees encasing the valley where the cabin resides.

Smoke still curls from the chimney, fire long gone but embers undoubtedly still hot, and you find yourself smiling. With relief, with anticipation.

You’re exhausted, famished and dirty. Yet you still assist Joel in stringing up what’s left of the buck to the outside of the cabin until he can properly butcher it, feeling obligated to do so after everything that’s happened, despite his protests.

Once the task is complete, you retire to the warmth and comfort of the cabin, curled against his chest, feeling at home for the first time in months.

His fingers idly trace the bow of your spine, both of you falling into a fast sleep for what feels like days on end.

—

“I was so goddamn stupid,” Joel growls softly as his lips chart a path down your soft inner thighs, finding himself grinding his hips into the mattress for relief. “So goddamn stupid an’ bullheaded, an’ I almost lost you for it.”

Your spine arcs instinctually when his breath ghosts tauntingly close to your soaked folds, your fists finding his graying locks with a tug.

“Joel, stop talking and make it up to me,” you whine, earning a disapproving glance from between your legs, but there’s an undercurrent of playfulness behind his eyes.

“Make it up to you, huh?” he purrs, separating your folds and inhaling your natural scent. “By tastin’ this perfect little pussy?”

“Yes,” you whine again, writhing like a worm cooking under the sun in his grasp, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Uh uh,” he scolds, moving further away from where you’re desperate for him. “Ask nicely.”

His lip curves almost imperceptibly into a sly smirk, his gaze growing a shade darker.

“Please, Joel,” you amend, still wiggling, almost involuntary at this point, his fingers digging into your hips as he pins you against the bed.

“Please what?”

“Please, I need to feel your mouth on my pussy,” you whimper.

His nostrils flare, smirk growing just enough for you to realize you weren’t just seeing things.

He doesn’t waste another second as he dives in with a low, reverberative growl and begins feasting on you like a man starved, his meaty forearm barred across your hip to hold you in place so he can eat you out properly.

His tongue parts your folds, licking a broad stripe up your seam with a groan as he tastes your essence for the first time, moving back down to your opening to tongue fuck you, the ridge of his nose grinding deliciously against your throbbing clit.

You tug harder against his strands with a moan, helping to guide him where you need him most.

Joel grunts your name into your core, eyes locking with yours over your mound, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart right then and there.

He abruptly pulls his mouth from you, making you whine in protest, another smirk notching the corner of his lips as he rolls onto his back, rigid cock swaying slightly with the motion of his hips.

“Get on my face, baby, I need to get deeper,” he says, grabbing your wrist and gesturing you closer.

You don’t even have to give it another thought, scrambling over him, folded knees planted on either side of his head.

He yanks you down abruptly to his waiting and eager mouth before you’re halfway settled, tongue curling into your wet heat with a deep groan that vibrates straight through you.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass, directing your movements, grinding you against his face as he continues to feast on you like you’re nothing less of a five star meal.

Your hands furl the edge of the headboard, spine arching, and it doesn’t take much longer in this position to be sent over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you like a bolt of lightning, Joel’s name a sacred prayer on your tongue as everything inside of you completely uncoils.

He keeps you there long enough to let you ride out your high, tongue still laving at your spasming walls until it’s too much for you to handle.

You shift off of him, his facial hair glistening with evidence of your release as he pulls you down into a rough, needy kiss, letting you taste yourself, flipping you over and pinning you beneath him, arms caged around your head as he grinds his hardness against you.

“You have no idea how many times I jerked off thinking about you like this,” Joel confesses, nipping at your jaw, then your bottom lip. “How you would feel. How you would taste.” He kisses down to your collarbone, his teeth gently grazing.

“And you have no idea how many times I touched myself thinking about you,” you confess in reply, Joel’s head lifting to meet your eyes at your admission. “I had to bite my lip every night to keep from moaning your name...”

“Fuck…” he growls, settling his pelvis between your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, lifting one to prop against his shoulder.

“You make me feel things I haven’t felt in years,” he rumbles, giving himself a few firm pumps before notching himself at your entrance. “Y’want me to go fast or slow, darlin’?”

A warmth spreads through your chest at the simple act of him asking, knowing it isn’t just mindless sex to him, that he actually cares, if that wasn’t already obvious from how enthusiastically he just ate you out.

“Slow, then hard and fast,” you tell him, earning another deep rumble as he starts to push himself inside of you, fat head stretching your walls.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he says softly as he steadily gains ground, his hips shuddering with restraint once he bottoms out, sheathing himself fully. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re strangling me,” he grunts. “I don’t know how long I can last...”

The pain of withholding in his voice is palpable.

“Joel, you just made me come super hard,” you tell him. “Don’t hold yourself back just for me.”

His bottom lip juts out and quivers with the thin veil of control he still has, fingertips digging into your hips, crescent moon shapes left behind in your skin.

“Y’sure?” he asks, internal conflict evident in his voice as he rolls his hips half a thrust forward. “‘cause soon as I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back…”

“I’m sure,” you reassure him, letting him hear the conviction in your voice.

He takes in a steadying breath and gently gyrates his hips forward once, twice, his head tilting down to watch the way he disappears inside of you.

It must be the way you’re taking him so well — or maybe it’s the months of not allowing himself to touch you — the thin thread of restraint suddenly fraying after the initial soft, testing thrusts, a barely audible ‘fuck’ escaping his lips seconds before he begins railing into you with everything a man of his age has to give… which is a lot.

Joel’s hand is on your calf, holding your leg flush to his chest, the other on your hip in a bruising hold, watching the way your body sways in rhythm with his motions, teeth bared in concentration.

“Darlin’… I’m… I… where do you want it?” he pants, the question almost sounding pained.

You know you should make him pull out and finish on your stomach. Contraceptives are a rare luxury these days and you’d always made your previous boyfriends pull out. But you can’t stop yourself, the permission spilling from your lips thoughtlessly.

“In… inside…” you whimper in desperation and Joel doesn’t even think to question it.

He collapses on top of you, his hips sputtering and shaking, a deep, guttural snarl sounding from his chest as he spills into you, filling you to the brim with hot jets of spend.

Despite not coming a second time, the sensation of him shooting inside of you still feels good, his warmth filling every crevice it can reach inside of you.

He buries his face against your neck, gingerly taking some of your flesh between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to leave a faint impression.

His hips gradually slow and still, your name a reverent curse on his tongue.

“Christ,” he pants, wrapping you snugly in his burly arms. “Christ, darlin’.”

—

Spring finally reaches the valley, replenishing the land with color and sunlight, allowing you and Joel to wander out further and further every day.

He tells you he wants to find something nicer than the cabin. Somewhere larger, more permanent, even though you’ve told him time and again that you’d prefer to stay.

And you do, for a spell.

That is until you find your body growing more sensitive than usual. Until you find it increasingly difficult to keep some of your meals down, trying to convince Joel it’s nothing, that it’s just a summer cold, when you both know it’s not.

Joel dotes on you, burdens himself over you, knowing exactly what it is without wanting to say it. All the signs are there, almost textbook, unable to keep his memories from drifting back to the days before Sarah was born, how her mother’s symptoms were damn near identical.

He doesn’t dare tell you how scared he is, how much this terrifies him all the the way to his bone marrow, but you know. You see it in his gaze when he looks at you, feel it in his touch when he pulls you against him at night.

—

You’re on a scouting run one warm summer day, Joel hardly more than two feet from you at any given moment, so many unspoken words and feelings still hanging in the air between you.

He reaches for your arm to steady you when your feet slide on a patch of loose rocks, his palm instinctively moving to protect your stomach. You’re almost sure he wasn’t even aware he did it.

“Joel,” you say, placing your hand over his. “I’m alright.”

His brow furrows, silence speaking louder than any words he could say.

He’s reverted into his headspace again, more quiet these last few days than he has been. And it worries you. You hate that he bottles everything up, but you know that confrontation could make him shut down even more.

You begin walking again, his hand absently resting on the small of your back, and you continue down the path in stagnant silence.

Suddenly, Joel stops, eyes squinting to confirm what he’s seeing is real.

A neighborhood.

—

The neighborhood would have been considered a new development before the world went to shit, most of the lots bare and choked with two decades worth of weeds, some houses half built and some finished but likely vacant at the time.

There are only a few that look to have been potentially occupied before everything, three larger homes next to one another in a cul-de-sac at the end of unmanaged, cracked pavement.

There’s not much of interest in the first few homes you inspect, watching the way Joel silently scrutinizes everything as a potential future dwelling, not a single corner left unchecked, his latent instincts as a contractor still well ingrained in him despite the expanse of time.

By mid day, you’re both sweating profusely, Joel moreso than you since he isn’t letting you do much, forcing you to put food and water in your body, brooking no argument when he gives you his ration as well.

He knows you should head back soon before you’re out too late, but there’s still one house left to search and he doesn’t want to make the trip a second time if it isn’t worth the trouble.

The largest house, a two story spruce green craftsman with gray trim, his heart aching with nostalgia at how much it reminds him of his former home in Austin.

You start the same route as with the other houses; from the top, room by room, working your way down, your anxiety growing the lower the sun dips in the sky, knowing you only have a couple hours at best before it’s too late to leave.

The main floors scoured, you follow Joel to the basement, your hands on his shoulders for stability as you slowly work your way down the creaking stairs, your eyes adjusting to the shadows the deeper you travel.

When you’ve reached the bottom, Joel pulls out his flashlight, hitting it against his palm a few times before it flickers to life, the thin beam of light reflecting off the freshly disturbed dust.

You cover your nose and mouth with your shirt to keep out some of the flying particles, watching as Joel stumbles upon a stack of neatly piled and labeled storage totes in the furthest corner from the stairs, adrenaline beginning to course through him like a drug as he reads the faded sharpie scrawled on the sides.

“‘Canned goods and preserves’,” Joel says quietly, his voice higher in pitch than usual, more hopeful. There’s at least four totes labeled canned goods that you can see, possibly more, dates ranging from anywhere from late 2000 to summer of 2003.

He moves slightly to the right, his body tremoring as he examines the next set of totes.

Multiple totes labeled MREs, dated around the same range as the canned goods. He rips the top off of a few of them open to confirm that his eyes aren’t deceiving him, that this isn’t a cruel dream, nearly doubling over when he sees just how real it is.

“Joel?” you ask, concerned, stepping nearer to him when you see him trembling and clutching his chest. “Baby ..?”

He suddenly turns and throws his arms around you, and it dawns on you that he’s crying, he’s crying and trembling, eyes full of happy tears.

“A fucking prepper. A fucking prepper just saved our lives,” he whimpers into your hair, squeezing you against him, and all he can think in that moment is thank fuck for those crazy assholes. Thank fuck for people like Bill.

—

In the weeks that follow, you and Joel clean and repair the house — Joel doing most of the work, per his insistence — but it’s in surprisingly good shape despite its age and lack of upkeep, and even with just the two of you, it doesn’t take as long as you’d expected.

You can’t help but miss the cabin, the natural beauty of the valley. But Joel was right to move you. It’s safer here, more insulated from weather, more space to grow. And perhaps, one day, the cabin can be someone else’s salvation, as it had been for you.

Another night falls on one of the final lingering days of summer, barely able to see the shine of Joel’s eyes in the dim light as he climbs over you, parting your legs with his knee, rumbling low in his chest as he peppers kisses and bites down the column of your neck.

#pedro pascal #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #angst with a happy ending #smut

222 notes · View notes

wonysugar · 23 hours ago

Note

g!p sugar mommy giselle🫦🫦🫦

g!p.... sugar mommy...... giselle..... ANON. holds you by the neck dearly thank you for this. also! it’s barely even mentioned at all but just know giselle is like 37ish and reader is in her mid-twenties. :]

cw : age-gap!

giselle as the sugar mommy you randomly met on your day to day minimum wage job at a fast food place MHMMM LET ME COOKKK..... having her be a regular who always comes in like once a week, always wearing something super fancy.. like a black prada trenchcoat or sometimes even a dolce & gabbana blazer. point is, she immediately stuck out like a sore thumb among the rest of the crowd.

plus, you found her undeniably gorgeous as soon as you laid eyes on her, so it's not like she'd go unnoticed otherwise, either.

she often approached you at the register and made small talk, as stupid as it often was. she'd find some stupid excuse not to use the self checkout machine and would find a lame conversation starter while you're watching her pull out a dior purse, proceeding with the payment of her order. that often lead to you asking her questions of your own.

"why do you eat here? you look like you have other.... better places to be eating at."

she'd chuckle at your words, finding them amusing, before answering in a gentle tone, "trust me, i do. my niece doesn't seem to think the same way i do, however, as she seems to really like this place. i appear to be the only one indulging her."

soon enough, you'd warm up to her with each visit of hers and the conversations would get much, much longer. so much so that, often times, your manager would have to step in and remind you to get back to work prompty. it got annoying quickly, as the conversations were just getting good; chatting about studies, travel plans, ambitions and goals, etc.

so, wanting to have these incredibly interesting exchanges in a more comfortable and relaxed setting, aeri asked for your number.

naturally.

who cares that she was like, ten years older than you. it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend… right?

numerous nights of friendly-texting-turned-flirty later, you two quickly agreed on a set date and location, which turned out to be a friday evening spent in the very expensive restaurant right across the block from your workplace. it was a date! she informed you to come in 'appropriate' attire, whatever that meant. how would you know? your closet consisted of hoodies, sweaters and some t-shirts as well as your work uniform. that being said, you showed up to the date wearing a low cute dark blue dress you found laying around in the darkest depths of your drawer for probably more than seven years. saying you were nervous would be nothing but a huge understatement.

she, on the other hand, came wearing a creamy white turtleneck under the black trench-coat she was usually seen wearing when ordering food at your job, the look topped off by wide legged black pants and really expensive looking black leather heels.

what the fuck are you doing.

getting cold feet, you nervously sat down at the table and bowed your head in her direction. intimidated by the light yet impacting amount of makeup she had on her face, you avoided eye contact as much as possible. she was breathtaking.

she told you to choose whatever you’d like on the menu and to not look at the price, as she insisted you not to worry at all about the bill. you, of course, felt guilty so you proceeded to pick the least expensive thing on the menu and attempted to convince her that you genuinely loved the dish, hence why you’d pick it among everything else.

who were you kidding though, you couldn’t even pronounce whatever fuckass french name it was that you picked to the waiter. she smiled at you as you finished ordering, making you turn red in embarrassment.

“you know y/n, i couldn’t bring myself to mention it in a place as unflattering as your workplace, no offence,” she started as you shook off the statement, practically agreeing with her before she continued, “but i must say that i think you are absolutely adorable.”

it gets to a point. and at this point you’re just short-circuiting at her words and intense eye contact, finding it difficult to even act properly in front of her!

she noticed that, of course, especially in times during the conversation where she called you endearing names such as “darling”, “love” and “honey”.

that wasn’t much different in bed, either.

as it turns out, you really did want her to fuck you at the end of the night! honestly, how could you not when she’d been opening every single door for you, insisting on paying for the entirety of the bill at the restaurant and offering to drive you home despite it only being a 10 minute walk?

she’d done nothing but drive you crazy all evening with her sexy and gentle manners, it’s only natural you gave her a sloppy handjob whilst she drove her grey lexus lx back to her own house with the pure intention of fucking the shit out of you.

…and she did! very well, at that!

two of her fingers deep into you, she circled your clit with her thumb and left gentle kisses on your jaw down to your collarbone. slow and steady pumps of the digits, she thrived in hearing your soft whimpers.

that didn’t last long, however. she was getting impatient, and her dick was aching to feel you.

ass up face down, you’re getting pounded relentlessly into the mattress before you know it. getting treated like nothing but a queen all night only to be later fucked like a depraved slut… it had to be the best thing you’d ever felt in a while. of course, you let her know of that with guttural moans that left your body with each thrust of her cock. she didn’t care, her house was big enough to muffle your screams, after all.

she whispered obscenities into your ear whilst you did so, gripping a fistful of your hair and humming at each sound that came out of your mouth. talking about how tight your cunt was for her, about how good it felt, how she couldn’t wait to use it every other day, about how she would kill to take care of a pretty little thing like you.

gripping onto your sides and ramming into you shamelessly as she drove you to your climax, you bit your lip until you felt like it was bleeding. her breathier heavier and each of her moans slightly higher than the previous, you both orgasmed together, a wave of euphoria washing over the two of you immediately.

oh and, you know what she said about ‘taking care of a pretty little thing like you?’ yeah, she meant every word.

soon enough, she’s taking you on dates every other weekend, referring you to a slightly better paying, less agonizing job thanks to the connections she possesses, sending you excessive amounts of money she labels as your ‘monthly allowance’ and overall spoiling you with whatever your heart desires. hell. she even payed your university tuition! she finds it endearing to see you always so shy and embarrassed to accept the money she gives you; you always go on about how ‘you don’t give her anything back’ and how it isn’t fair.

but to her, you do give back. your happiness and joy is what aeri does it for, and you give her great amounts of that. not only that, but you also give back by whoring yourself out and looking pretty for her. giving her unwarranted boners by sending her risky pictures and videos while she’s at work, having you wear the lingerie she buys you, knowing you use the toys she got you whenever she’s too busy to take care of you, etc. aeri could name nothing better than having you be the beautiful doll she gets to play with every now and then. :]

#anon asks #anon #smut #kpop gg #female reader #aespa smut #giselle hard thoughts #aespa giselle smut #aeri uchinaga smut #aeri uchinaga #uchinaga aeri x reader #aespa giselle x reader #giselle x fem reader #giselle smut #giselle aespa smut #giselle thoughts

226 notes · View notes

des2dream · 10 hours ago

Text

IndieAnimationDay Highlights✨

Say 'Yay'! It's IndieAnimationDay! A day to celebrate all those independent animators, storyboard artists, cleanup animators, writers etc. out there because we all know how difficult it is to work on animation. We also know how difficult it is to be given dreadful deadlines, people not crediting your work, and dealing with the presence of A.I. Today is the day to celebrate those who give it their all to make something all their own without anyone holding them back! I have three special projects I'd like to highlight for this occasion.

1. Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want To Be A Magical Girl!✨🌃🧀

In our first installment, we have an upcoming animatic project, Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want To Be A Magical Girl created by @kianamaiart. Our main character, Aika is an optimistic & excitable teenage girl eager to try new things....as long as one of those new things doesn't involve being a magical girl. Well, too bad for her because she is now "The Chosen One" and has to stop Lady DeVoid from plaguing the world in darkness with the help of her star being aid, Hoshi and her new manga-loving friend, Zira. I love this concept so much! As someone who enjoys watching Sailor Moon (the catalyst for Magical Girls), it's such a fun idea to see how much these familiar magical girl tropes will get shut down by either Aika or any other characters. I also really love the character designs, the art style, and the voice cast. We have the voice actresses for Mirko in My Hero Academia and Madoka Magica (one of the other popular Magical Girls)! You should also check out the rest of the cast. I'm so excited!

2. Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy👽🌌🌟

For our next installment, we have an upcoming animated pilot, Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy created by @starteas. The story has a group of alien friends traveling the galaxy in order to help a lost star named, Lumi find their way back home. As soon as I saw this, it gave me Wander Over Yonder vibes which is cute because it's actually one of the inspirations for this pilot. The same thing goes for Steven Universe! Two animated shows that I love so much! Starteas had been working on this pilot for a long time and you can tell if you've seen their art over the years with how much the character designs change. I feel like I'll really enjoy this cast of wacky characters and I'm more hooked on the supposed villain, Void who has one of the best designs for a bad guy. This pilot looks so cute! I have a feeling I'm really going to enjoy it!

3. Knights of Guinevere💙👑🗡

Here is our last installment! Created by @danaterrace (creator of The Owl House), John Bailey (writer in The Owl House & Future Worm), & Zach Marcus (writer, storyboard artist, & designer/The Owl House & Star Vs. The Forces of Evil) comes the next future animated pilot, Knights of Guinevere. The project is also partnered with Glitch Productions (making this their first 2D animation). We don't have much context on this pilot, but it does involve a space princess in a theme park called, Park Planet. As for the premise, my guess is it may involve the princess not being what she seems, a woman stuck in a fantasy simulation, or maybe the princess is a broken-down robot continuously stuck as a mascot. We won't know until later, but I am excited for what's to come since it plans to be released sometime later this year. I've been a fan of Glitch's previous successful animated shows like Digital Circus & Meta Runner, so I hope this will turn out well in the end.

Happy IndieAnimation Day, everyone! You have the ability to make your dreams come true and I find animation to be one of the best forms of creation and storytelling. Even if you're not an animator, you're still capable of creating what you want. Art is everywhere and it is beautiful!

#indie animation day #indie animation #aika idwtbamg #idwtbamg #lumi and the great big galaxy #knights of guinevere #creative inspiration

392 notes · View notes

thegamingcatmom · 1 day ago

Text

@groovestrawberry Thank you so much for your words. They mean a lot. Especially because I'm prone to taking stuff way too seriously, so I really appreciate the reminder to just chill tf out. 😅❤️

Right so, onto your questions!

1) the last sentence you wrote

"It didn’t take long for your heart to pick up its frantic rhythm once more, terror seizing you anew at the horrible realization that, who…whatever was chasing you, it had been close enough for you to feel it."

Wrote that only yesterday. 💪

6) the word that appears the most in your current draft

(This is Chapter 4 btw.)

17) talk about your writing and editing process

Oh boy, what to say. Where to start.

I mean, I tend to take things a bit too seriously, as mentioned before. Which means I'll sometimes go over a sentence or paragraph until it no longer makes sense to me, lol. I know it's probably fine as is and ppl are gonna enjoy it anyway, so this is a habit of mine I'm working on. Also because, in my experience, whatever your brain comes up with after you first get your thoughts on paper, it most likely won't be as good as what you first came up with, so you end up going back to the OG anyway. 🤷🏻‍♀️

So ye, editing ain't fun, but it must be done because I'm really not happy with some of the stuff my old self has come up with. 🙃

As for the writing: This goes hand in hand with editing, actually. First things first though: Music. Most important. If I have a song I can vibe to and it fits the mood and all, then it's going rather smoothly. But, even then, I'm by no means a "fast" writer. Even when vibing, I'm still hyper focused on not making mistakes and especially using the correct tense (something I find surprisingly difficult when you're actually focused on it, lol). So, just like with editing, I'll read over a section a few hundred times before I proceed. I know some say it's more important to just get that first draft done and correct any mistakes after but, honestly? When a chapter is done, I wanna post it, not spend another few hours/days/weeks editing stuff. 🤷🏻‍♀️

So ye, writing and editing is more or less the same for me because it happens simultanously. Or it will, once I'm done with editing TBRH (The Bumpy Road Home) and things go back to "normal." 😅

What else to say...hm, I guess a few other "quirks" of mine when writing are:

Writing out a piece of dialogue and putting it somewhere on the page to use later because I just know that if I don't do that, whatever I come up with instead (because my ass forgot half of what I originally came up with) won't be as slapping. OG always wins and all. 😉

Pausing to take a breather because I get so immersed in the scene, I actually need a moment to process it. (I read somewhere that someone referred to it as "zoomies." This was more in the sense of reading a fic and coming across a section so damn good, you need a moment to process it. But, sometimes, this is very much the case for writers too. 🫠)

Looking up images, videos etc. of the ppl or things I'm writing about. For Chapter 4 of TBRH, the Denali house was my trusty companion. Just chilling in the background (aka: another tab), lol.

Starting on another scene even though I haven't finished the current one because I just need to know what happens next. (Yes, I'm aware I'm the writer.)

Well, that's all I can come up with for the moment. I'm sure there's more and maybe I'll post it at some point. ✌️

Thanks a lot for your questions and your lovely words! 💋

✍️ more fic writer asks!

reblog & your followers can send asks with the questions they’d like you to answer!

the last sentence you wrote

a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

how you feel about your current WIP

a story idea you haven’t written yet

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

the word that appears the most in your current draft (wordcounter.net can tell you)

your preferred writing fonts

if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

a WIP you’d like to finish someday

a trope you’re really into right now

a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

where do you get your inspiration?

favorite weather for writing

favorite place to write

talk about your writing and editing process

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

in what year did you publish your first fic?

when did you publish your most recent fic?

do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

pick three keywords that describe your writing

how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

are you able to write with other people around?

your favorite part of the writing process

your least favorite part of the writing process

how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

share a fic you’re especially proud of

#tumblr asks #(kinda)#tumblr ask games #writer ask games #writers #writing #fanfictions #fanfics #ao3 #archive of our own #writers on ao3 #writers on tumblr

9K notes · View notes

bapeach · 2 days ago

Text

Valentine's Day

Anyone else suck at writing summaries for their stories? Anyways, happy belated Valentine's! I hadn't planned on writing a Valentine's related story, but here we are. Hope you all enjoy! Constructive criticism is always welcome :D Find my masterlist here :)

Pairing(s): Paige Bueckers x female!reader Word count: 4.8k+ Warnings: a bit clinché, swearing, long-distance Summary: Valentine's Day isn't so bad when you get to call with your long-distance best friend, except things don't really go the way you planned. You're not mad about it, though. ------------

Valentine's Day. A day loved by many and hated by even more.

You belonged in the latter category. Why did couples need an extra day to celebrate their relationship? Why would you require an extra day to be nice to your partner when you should do that any other day as well? The only thing this holiday does is make single people feel bad. You’re not bitter about it or anything, it’s just a fact, okay fine, you’re a little salty.

Today is another Valentine that you’re spending single, but this time at least you have plans! While most of your friends were going to be off on dates, you were going to be calling your long-distance best friend and making fun of the whole holiday. To say you were excited to talk to the girl was an understatement.

Being a student-athlete wasn’t easy, Paige had complained about her busy schedule enough for you to know. Not that she had to, you could tell how exhausted she was whenever she found a bit of time to call you between school, homework, and basketball. It saddened you to know the blonde was wearing herself out completely to be the perfect student while also making sure she’s the best basketball player she can be. She barely ever has time to relax, and you’re scared she’s going to give herself a burn-out.

You were glad Paige found time today to hang out with you. You’ve missed her more than you thought you could ever miss anyone, not having heard her voice in weeks and only having gotten short messages to let you know she’s still alive.

“Everyone is gonna be out and about on friday after practice so I’ll have the dorm to myself, FaceTime at 10:30?” Her message had read last Sunday, and you’d immediately agreed. While you knew the Valentine’s Day hangout was just a friendly hangout between best friends, you liked pretending it would be a date.

When you met Paige, you never thought you’d ever fall for her so deeply, let alone be such good friends with her. But here you were, 6 years later, with the biggest crush on her.

When your mom sent you to a random month-long summer camp when you were 16, you’d protested with your whole being. You’d much rather stay home, bundled up on the couch all summer, re-reading your favorite book series, not going to a random camp out in the wild. “You’ll learn so much stuff! And you’ll make friends for life!” She’d said, making you roll your eyes. You didn’t believe a word she’d said, knowing that even if you managed to make friends, you’d only talk to them for that summer and maybe a month after.

You didn’t meet Paige until a week into camp. Her cabin was nowhere near yours, and so you weren’t in the same activity groups as her. One of your roommates had met her one night when she couldn’t sleep and went on a walk. She said you two would get along well, but the more she talked about the blonde, the less likely it seemed to you.

While you were shy, loved staying in, let people walk all over you, and were a bit of a teacher’s pet, 16-year-old Paige was the complete opposite. She was outgoing and friendly, and she loved teasing people even when she didn’t know them. She preferred the outdoors, getting restless when she had to stay in and couldn’t play her sports. She loved breaking the rules and always seemed to get away with it too, her charisma being able to charm all the camp leaders.

When your cabinmate had called her over during dinner, you were incredibly intimidated by the taller girl. She towered over you with a big grin, her blue eyes wide and full of mischief. She was loud and immediately set her eyes on you when she noticed your quietness. When your friends had joked about how shy you were, she’d only grinned wider, saying she was going to get you to come out of your shell.

She managed to win you over a lot faster than you dared to admit. After that dinner, she was always able to spot you in the crowd, coming over to tease you or introduce you to more people. Within a week, you two were glued at the hip. She managed to do what she said she would, making you a little less afraid to speak your mind, while you were able to bring a calm to her that no one knew existed.

You swore saying goodbye to her at the end of camp was one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do. You were quite dramatic at times. Sadly, you’d been right about the not staying friends thing. You two sent each other two letters once camp was over and called five times before life got too busy with school, extracurriculars, and new friends. After that, you didn’t talk for two years.

The next time you saw her again, you thought you were dreaming. You were touring different universities and had just finished the UConn one. Paige had managed to get even taller, her muscles were more defined, and she’d finally found her style. You thought you were mistaken at first, but then her bright eyes found yours, and a wide smile made its way onto her face. She excused herself from the conversation she was in and jogged over to you, not letting you say more than a hi before pulling you into a hug. You let yourself fall into the comfortable, familiar feeling, sinking into her as you hug her back.

This time, when you two parted and said you’d stay in touch, you actually did. Sadly, you didn’t end up going to UConn, instead choosing a university over two hours away from the blonde. Keeping in contact was easier now that you were older and more mature. You called each other multiple times a month, texting almost daily, and even met up IRL whenever you could. You’d attended quite a few of her games, and she even surprised you on your birthday last year.

That birthday is your favorite one so far. Paige had surprised you with flowers and a book you’d been wanting for ages. She spoiled you like crazy that day, even staying the night at your dorm before having to go back to UConn. The day after was the day you realized you were head over heels for her. You became aware of the fact that the butterflies you felt in your stomach weren’t just from being excited at seeing your best friend, they were actually because you had a crush on her.

You never told her about your feelings, however. You figured she only saw you as a friend and knew that there were hundreds of girls throwing themselves at her feet, so why would she choose someone who didn’t even live in the same state as her?

You shake yourself out of your thoughts as you readjust yourself on your bed. Seeing it’s already 10:28, you open your camera to make sure you look okay. Patting down the flyaway hairs, you smile at your reflection. Closing the app, you grab your water bottle to take a sip and calm your growing nerves.

Knowing you’ll be even more nervous if you keep staring at the seconds tick by, you open TikTok and scroll on your FYP to pass the time. You quickly realize that wasn’t the best idea, seeing as there are only edits of Paige on your screen. Your face becomes a bright red as you watch the videos and save them all. You close the app after seeing an edit that makes you feel certain things, fanning your face as you try to get rid of your blush.

When you look at the time again, you shake your head in amusement. 10:35. In the years that you’ve known the blonde, there haven’t been many instances in which the girl has been on time. Usually, it bothers you to no end when someone is late. It makes you feel as though they don’t respect you enough to be on time. With the blonde, it’s different, however.

It’s cute to see her all flustered, apologizing again and again for her tardiness. It makes you laugh when she pouts at you, complaining about how her laptop had to do another update, how her alarm didn’t go off, or how Geno always has it out for her during the practices before a call. You grin when she leaves out the part where she was once again being a menace at practice, teasing her about it after Nika texts you to let you know Paige will be late and why.

You send her a quick text, asking if she managed to piss off Geno again, before checking to see if the Croatian had texted you anything. After another 5 minutes pass, you frown a little, slightly worried about the blonde. When your phone buzzes, you sit up straighter, fluffing up your hair a bit as you prepare to start the call. Grabbing your phone, you expect a “Sorry I’m late! You ready?” message, but you deflate instead.

“Hey, sorry I can’t call 2day, feeling exhausted, rain check?” It reads.

Of course, this isn’t the first time Paige has had to cancel on you. You understood that her busy schedule left her incredibly exhausted, and you knew she hated herself every time she had to cancel. Usually she pushed through, calling you anyway and falling asleep within 10 minutes of the call. She’d apologize profusely, a big frown on her face as her eyes turn a murky blue in sadness. You always told her you didn’t mind, you actually found it cute how her tired eyes would slowly blink at you before finally closing.

The fact that she actually canceled this time meant she didn’t feel good at all, so you let her know it was okay and that you’d talk soon. Once you wish her sweet dreams as she goes to take a nap, you close your laptop with more force than necessary.

While you typically wouldn’t mind all that much, you did this time. You missed her like crazy, you hadn’t had the easiest week, all your friends were out having fun, and to top it all off, you were about to have your period, making you even crankier than usual. You sit in silence for a moment as you try to blink away your tears. You press your palms to your eyes as you shake your head. Slapping your cheeks softly, you try to snap out of it. “Don’t be such a little baby,” you think to yourself.

You get up and stretch before pausing in the middle of the room. You look around a little lost, unsure of what to do now that your plans fell through. You bite your lip as you think about the tub of ice cream you left in your freezer for when you had a bad day. You pout as you realize you’ll spend yet another Valentine’s Day watching a cheesy movie that’ll make you cry into your ice cream.

Right as you’re about to open the freezer, you hear a knock at the door. You throw your head back, holding in a groan as you debate pretending no one is home. You knew it was most likely your roommate, who knew you were going to be home, having forgotten her keys again, so you make your way over to the door.

You take a quick peek into the mirror to check if your eyes look red from your mini breakdown, silently cursing when they do. Rolling your eyes at yourself, you open the door, ready to tell your roommate to not mention it.

You freeze as your jaw drops open. Paige is standing in the hallway, holding a bouquet of red roses and a big teddy bear, a wide smile carved on her face. “Surprise,” she says, her voice soft as she takes you in. You cover your mouth with your hand as tears well up in your eyes again. “Damn these hormones,” you think, blinking to make them go away.

Seeing your watery eyes, the blonde’s smile softens as she mutters a “C’mere.” You fall into her open arms, squeezing her tightly as you nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck. Paige leans her head against yours, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple. She slowly shuffles you backward into your dorm, using her foot to close the door behind her.

Once you realize the way you’re gripping onto her, you let her go, heat creeping up your face. You feel a bit embarrassed, but the feeling gets taken over by the happiness of finally being near the blonde again. “What’re you doing here?” You breathe out as you look at her in childlike wonder. “Wanted to spend Valentine’s with my favorite girl,” she replies, shoving the flowers and bear towards you. The butterflies in your stomach flutter around as you take the gifts with a wide smile, your cheeks bright red at the nickname.

You quickly put the flowers in a vase with some water before setting the teddy bear down on the couch. When you turn back towards Paige, you see her already staring at you with a soft look in her eyes. You skip back over to her, flinging yourself back into her arms, making her chuckle. “Thank you,” you mutter against her shirt, fondness seeping through in your voice.

You pull back slightly with a loving smile, looking up at her but not leaving her arms. She moves one hand away from your back, bringing it towards your face as she rubs your cheek. “Anything for you,” she mumbles as she takes in your face like she’s trying to memorize every bit of it. You can feel your face heat up, but you can’t look away. Your heart beats faster as you admire her, waiting to see what’s on her mind as you see different emotions swim around in her eyes.

Softly clearing her throat, she steps back nervously as she takes an envelope out of her pocket. She shifts her weight from foot to foot as she looks down at the envelope, her throat bobbing as she swallows harshly. “I, uh,” she starts, biting her lip before looking up at you with an anxious yet hopeful look. “This is for you,” she says, handing you the envelope. You raise an eyebrow at her as you ask, “What’s this?”

“Jus open it,” she says, fidgeting with her sleeve. You open the envelope tentatively, a little nervous at how anxious the usually confident girl is. Folding open the pink letter, you scan the page, smelling her perfume as if she sprayed it on the paper. You smile in adoration as you see the usual scribbly handwriting, this time a little less messy. Taking a quick glance at the girl, you see her rub her neck, nodding at you to read it. Your heart skips a beat as you read the words.

It’s… It’s a love confession.

You grip the paper a little tighter as you read about how Paige has had a crush on you for the past two years and how much you mean to her. Your eyes stay glued to the page until you reach the end. “Will you be my valentine?” The last sentence reads.

You look up at her in shock, excitement bubbling in your chest. The athlete is still looking at you, her eyes wide and hopeful. “Really?” You whisper, not wanting to break the intimate atmosphere. She nods her head as she bites her lip shyly. A broad smile spreads across your face as you nod enthusiastically. “Yes!” You say, your voice a bit higher as you’re unable to contain your joy.

“Yeah?” Paige grins, her confident, cheerful self showing again. She grabs you again, lifting you up as she twirls you around. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips at the giddiness you’re feeling. “Okay, uhh, I’ve made dinner plans for tonight, but I was thinking we could just chill here for a bit and then go get lunch in that cute little café we went to last time I was here!” The blue-eyed girl beams.

You’re already nodding your head before she finishes her sentence, knowing you’d do anything with the girl. Seeing as you still have some time before you need to start getting ready, you drag the basketball player to your couch. You let her sit down first before settling down next to her and swinging your legs over her lap. You’d been in this position plenty of times before, but those times never felt as intimate as this time.

Your heart thrums in your chest as Paige immediately rests her hands on your legs, rubbing them softly as she relaxes into her seat. You hold your new teddy bear against your chest as you watch the blonde fondly. Catching you staring, she sends you a smirk, making you look down with a chuckle.

“So, how’d you manage to get coach to let you skip practice?” You ask, your head tilted in question. “Oh, that was easy, he loves me, so he said he’d let me skip for once,” she replies smoothly. You huff out a laugh as she says that, mischief clear in her eyes. “You’re such a liar,” you grin back. “Okay, okay, maybe that’s not exactly how it went,” she rolls her eyes playfully. You look at her triumphantly as she gives your leg a little squeeze, more amused than annoyed that you caught her. “He said I could skip, but that my next practice is gonna be extra hard.”

You look at her in amusement but also slight worry. “You didn’t have to do this, you know? I would’ve been happy with just a phone call. I don’t want you to work yourself to the point of passing out,” you reply, your brows furrowed slightly in concern. She shakes her head, bringing one hand to your face to smooth out your frown. “I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Besides, I think I would’ve gone insane if I didn’t see you soon,” she says, her voice more vulnerable than you’re used to.

Your lips curve back into a smile as she continues. “And stop worrying about me so much, I’m okay. If things get too much, I’ll let you know, I promise.” She sticks out her pinky finger, grinning at you as you interlace yours with hers.

You two keep talking until it’s time to get ready for lunch. Seeing as Paige is already dressed, you leave her on your couch as you walk up to your closet to pick a nice outfit before running to the bathroom to put yourself together. Once you’re satisfied, you return to the couch, blushing as you see the blonde check you out. You raise your eyebrow and send her a teasing grin, letting her know you caught her. She simply sends you a smirk back as she gets up.

There’s not a moment of silence on the way to the café as you two talk about the latest things in your lives. You talk about classes, basketball, family, friends, and the weird dreams you’ve had. The conversation continues to flow during lunch and into the afternoon as you walk around the city with Paige. A smile is permanently etched into your face as you stroll around with your hand in the blonde’s. While her hand is a bit rough from playing so much basketball, it’s still very soft. She rubs her thumb across your knuckles as she animatedly talks about the shenanigans she’s been up to with the team.

When you stop for ice cream, you order your favorite flavor before noticing Paige taking another flavor you love. It confuses you a little, knowing she doesn’t really like it, but you don’t really pay any mind to it as you continue rambling about what your professor did last class. When you sit down, you enjoy your ice cream as you listen to the girl in front of you. She takes small bites in between sentences, making her still have half of it left when you’re done with yours. As she talks, she starts feeding you some of her cup, making you smile at how cheesy you two are being. You don’t mind, though, this is exactly what you’d dreamed of.

When you notice the blonde isn’t eating her ice cream anymore, only feeding you, you go to protest. You don’t get the chance to, however, as the girl knew what you were up to. She quickly shoves another spoonful into your mouth when you open it to speak, rolling your eyes playfully. She grins as she shrugs a little.

Once you two are done, you walk back towards your dorm, silently thanking your roommate for having her own plans and not being home. Once inside, you guide the blonde to your bed, plopping down as you put on a random show for background sounds. You spend hours talking about everything and nothing, laughing harder than you have in months.

“So, this dinner, where are we going?” You ask Paige as you crane your neck up from where you’re lying against her. She pretends to lock her mouth and throw away the key, making you roll your eyes. “You’re so unhelpful, y’know that?” She laughs, knowing it’s true. “Can you at least tell me what the vibe is? Do I need to dress fancy?” You question as you get up and walk over to your closet. You rifle through your options as the athlete speaks. “Semi-formal, I guess,” she shrugs, getting up herself. “Where are you going?” You ask as she starts walking towards the door.

“Gonna grab my bag from my car, I’m not going to dinner in this outfit,” she replies, making you nod in understanding. Once she’s gone, you pause for a moment, pinching yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming. When you know for sure you’re not, you let out an excited squeal before calming yourself down and getting ready. Once you’re dressed, you sit down in front of your mirror to apply some light make-up.

You hear Paige walk back in, having borrowed your keys, as you’re applying mascara. Once you’re done, you look at her through the mirror and send her a bashful smile. She doesn’t smile back, too enthralled by your beauty. You shake your head as you giggle, grabbing your lip gloss. You lean in a bit closer to the mirror, applying a thin layer of gloss to make your lips shine. You glance over at Paige, seeing her eye the applicator as you glide it across your lips. She swallows harshly when you make eye contact, looking away sheepishly as she walks over to get ready in the bathroom.

You scroll through Instagram as you wait for the blonde, liking the Valentine’s Day posts from your friends. When you hear the bathroom door open, you glance up, your throat going dry. Paige always looked gorgeous, but right now, you think she’s never looked better. She smiles softly at you as you take her in. She doesn’t tease you about the way you’re basically drooling over her, knowing she’s just as enamored.

“You look beautiful,” she says, grabbing your hand and giving it a soft squeeze. “Says you,” you grin with rosy cheeks. Her eyes twinkle with happiness as she leads you to the door. “Oh, one sec!” You mutter, running back towards your dresser to grab something. You quickly put the tiny box in your bag before walking back over to Paige. “Alright, I’m ready,” you say, rocking back and forth in excitement.

You walk towards the taller girl’s car in comfortable silence, your hand in hers, fingers interlinked. You let her open the passenger door for you, chuckling at her as she gives you a bow. “M’lady,” she tries to say seriously, but she can’t stop the smile growing on her face. “You’re such a dork,” you reply as you get in, hoping she doesn’t notice the bright color of your cheeks.

Once you two are on the road, Paige takes one hand off of the steering wheel, putting her arm on the center console. You look at it for a moment before grabbing her hand and interlacing your fingers once more. You take a peek at the blonde to see her reaction and feel your stomach flutter when you see her sporting a tiny, content smile.

Once you get to the restaurant, you look around in awe. It was beautiful. You still can’t believe that all of this is real. That Paige Bueckers, your best friend, is taking you out on a date and treating you like a queen. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling all day.

You two share a bottle of wine as you enjoy your food, letting one another taste each other’s dishes, grinning when you find the other’s food better. You giggle as you switch your plates around, not paying any mind to the looks you’re receiving. After finishing your meal, you order dessert, sharing the sweet treat, feeling pretty full from dinner.

Once you’re done, Paige pulls out a wrapped box with a tiny ribbon bow. For a moment you’re confused where it came from, but you quickly dismiss your confusion. “Paige, you didn’t have to get me anything! You’ve already paid for everything today,” you whine, feeling bad about how much the girl is spending on you. “Oh hush,” she says, “I love spoiling my girl.” “Your girl, huh?” You tease with a grin. She rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “Open itttt,” she says impatiently.

You giggle as you open it, letting out a gasp as you see the bracelet inside. “Paige…” you breathe out, “this is beautiful.” “Yeah? You like it?” She asks, hoping you’re speaking the truth. You nod eagerly, flashing her a toothy smile as you brush your thumb over the P charm. “I was scared it would be too possessive, giving you something with my initial on it for our first date,” she admits, scratching her temple. “I love it, P,” you say, letting her help you put it on.

You grab your bag, pulling out your own gift box. “You didn’t,” Paige grins as you hand it to her. “I did,” you grin back. “How? You didn’t even know I was coming today,” she asks, giving you a curious look. “I got this a while back and was just waiting for the perfect moment to give it to you,” you say, your heart drumming in your ears as you nervously wait for her reaction. Her face lights up at the sight of the new chain you’d gotten her. She lifts it out of the box, letting it shine in the dim restaurant lights.

She taps the tiny basketball pendant as it swings on the chain. The blonde sends you a radiant smile, her eyes shining with love. “Thank you,” she says, adoration clear in her voice. You raise one finger, making her pause. You rummage in your bag, grabbing a tiny plastic bag, before handing it to her with a smirk. She holds it close, laughing as she realizes what it is. Opening the bag, she grabs the tiny charm, twirling it between her fingers. “I see we had the same idea,” she smiles, her cheeks becoming a soft pink at the thought of wearing your initial on her neck.

You help her put it on before waving over the waiter for the bill. You begrudgingly let Paige pay, knowing you’d never win that fight against her. You hold her hand as you walk towards her car, squeezing it softly. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst with joy and adoration. Once you reach the car, you look at the taller girl as she pauses.

Her eyes flit over your face as she softly grabs your hips. She steps closer, gently pushing you against the car. She leans in closer, her eyes looking into yours with a questioning look. Your heart skips a beat as you nod lightly. The blue-eyed girl leans even closer, her lips hovering over yours for a moment to give you an extra second to change your mind. When you don’t, she presses her lips against yours in a slow but deep kiss. You grab her face, trying to pull her even closer as you close your eyes. After a minute, you pull away slightly to catch your breath. You move your hands towards her neck as you play with her baby hairs. The smile she sends you makes you weak in the knees, making you silently thank God that you’re leaning against the car.

“Be mine?” Paige breathes, her question sounding almost like a statement. You don’t need to think twice as you nod, pulling her into another kiss.

You know it won’t be easy, being in a relationship while you’re miles apart, but you know that it’s all worth it when you get to call this amazing girl yours.

#paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers oneshot #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x you #oneshot #imagine #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #wlw fanfic #bapeach writes

213 notes · View notes

viperify · 2 days ago

Text

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾₊⊹ To The Moon n’ Back.

Short Summary: This year you’ll spend another ordinary Valentine’s Day, all by yourself. Or that you think—until you receive a mysterious letter.

Warnings: 18+ only! soft impact play, brief fingering, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, also this is kinda ooc!Tom bc how do I make this man engage in Valentine’s Day activities.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day!!! 💋🩷

wordcount: 2,4k

Tom Riddle does not do love.

So why is it that every time you walk past him, his heart beats just a little bit faster?

He’s done everything to distract himself—drowning himself in books, studying more than what is usual, even for someone called Tom Riddle.

Yet, you never fail to leave his mind. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to get the thought of you—specifically your lips on his—out of his mind.

By sweet Merlin, that’s the worst part of it all.

──

It’s Valentine’s Day.

Safe to say—you aren’t interested in a relationship.

So it shouldn’t bother you that all of your friends are out with their partner. But it does, your chest tightening at the thought of spending another night alone on a day that’s meant to be celebrated with your loved ones. It’s always been like this though, they’ve had their fun, and you—well, you stayed behind.

You decide to head to bed early. Right after dinner, which was awfully boring with none of your friends around, you make your way back to your dorm. Or try to, at least. Because as soon as you turn the corner, someone bumps into you.

Not just anyone—Tom Riddle. Head boy, former prefect, top student in every class, teacher’s favourite, award winner… you could go on like this for hours. There is probably nothing in this world that he hasn’t achieved—except for finding a Valentine’s date, it seems.

“I am sorry,” you mumble as you crouch down to pick up a piece of paper he has dropped. And it’s really not that you wanted to know what was written on it—it must have been the familiar number that caught your eye—the number of your dorm to be exact.

Though slightly taken aback, you hand him the paper—or better—he rips it from your hands. For a moment when his lips part slightly, you think he might want to say something in return—maybe apologize for bumping into you—but nothing ever comes.

So you leave, shooting him a weak smile.

It’s not like you expected an apology from him. He has his close circle of friends, all of whom are from renowned pureblood families. Even if you wanted him to like you, look at you the same way you’ve looked at him for years, it wouldn’t change a thing. Tom Riddle was unreachable. Any girl that has ever been interested in ended up getting rejected, and you wouldn’t be one of them.

Yet, the rich scent of his perfume lingers, the way his eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment imprinted in your mind. His hands brushing over yours briefly, feeling his warmth, the warmth you’ve been craving to feel on your skin—

You shake your head. You’re interpreting too much into it.

──

Tom curses himself for almost blowing his cover.

After hours of contemplation, hours of sitting in front of a blank piece of parchment, he finally writes something down.

My dear—

He scoffs. Pathetic.

Scrunching up the paper, he discards it on the wooden floor of his dorm.

I hope this letter finds—

Definitely not.

Please meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight at—

Please? Who is he to beg? You should be the one begging for— fuck.

Twenty crumpled-up pieces of parchment later, Tom’s had enough.

He opts for something shorter.

Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.

Perfect.

──

You are tucked under your duvet, putting the romance novel you had started on the nightstand. It was only 8pm, but with nothing else to do, sleep didn’t seem like the worst option. Soon enough, your eyelids flutter closed, and you drift off to sleep.

Though, it isn’t too long before a sharp knock on the glass of your window wakes you. It’s your owl, delivering a letter. Quite an unusual time for you to receive something, yet curiosity gets the better of you, and you open your window to get it.

No sender.

Reluctantly, you tear the envelope open, and your eyes skim over the words written on the parchment.

“Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.” You whisper, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. You don’t recognize the handwriting as anyone's you know, and as soon as you wipe over the words, the ink smears, vanishing, leaving you with an empty parchment.

At first, you are quite unsure whether to go. There’s no name on the letter, and especially on a day like today, there will be stricter enforcements of the curfew rules. Though, knowing yourself, you would have probably gone anyway. Even on a day like this, the moon and the stars are the only company you crave.

So you change, folding your PJs neatly on your bed, putting on the first skirt you find—though as soon as you step out of your dorm, you regret your decision. Tonight is cooler than usual, a soft breeze brushing past your skin, having you shiver. It’s too late to turn around, though. So you make your way, walking the route you normally take when you sneak out past curfew.

As you ascend the stairs to the tower, a figure leaning against the railing catches your attention. Only when you take a few steps closer do you recognize who it is. The brunette curls are unmistakably Tom’s, and for a moment your breath catches in your throat, halting your movements. Knowing that he is most likely on his patrol, you turn around to return to your dorm, but as you do just that, his voice stops you.

“You came.” He remarks quietly, without turning around.

It is him.

“You wanted to see me?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Riddle, if this is some kind of—“

“Come closer.”

You walk forwards then, though reluctantly, and lean against the railing next to the brunette. It’s silent between the both of you for a while before he speaks up again.

“They fascinate you, don’t they?” He asks subtly, staring into the distance of the night sky. You follow his gaze, taking in the stars and moon on the otherwise pitch-black horizon. “You watch them each night when you can’t sleep.”

You turn your head then, looking at him briefly. You want to ask how he knows, yet you decide to keep it to yourself. Instead, you answer honestly.

“It’s a rare constant in my life. They help me calm down, especially after a long day.”

He gives you a soft nod in return, and silence returns between the both of you, left with owls howling in the distance. There’s still snow on the ground, and it must be below freezing temperature, because when another cool breeze brushes past you, you shiver, scrunching up into yourself.

“Why am I here, Riddle?”

Tom finally turns towards you then, a spark of something softer shimmering in his otherwise so strict chocolate-brown eyes, and he takes a measured step closer.

“You didn’t have any other plans tonight, did you?” He asks, in a way that’s implying he already knows the answer—because what does he not know—and you shake your head no.

“Then that is why.”

You part your lips to question him but are interrupted by his hand reluctantly reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your cheek, trying, testing, before his hand wanders to your neck. His thumb draws small, soft patterns on your jaw, and you tense slightly at the contact. He stops then momentarily, watching your softened expression, but when you don’t complain, he continues.

His gaze flicks to your lips, the air between the both of you growing thick with tension as he slowly leans in. Your surroundings fade into a blur, and before you know it, his lips are on yours.

Tom Riddle is kissing you.

The kiss isn’t what you’d expect of someone like him—it’s soft, tender, your lips moving in sync as his second hand rests on your lower back, pulling you closer.

Soon enough, he has you pressed against the railing, lips only parting from yours when a soft moan falls over your lips. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, then he goes back to kissing you as his fingertips trail up the soft skin of your thighs, stopping at the hem of your skirt.

“Okay?” He murmurs, waiting for a verbal agreement before turning you around, adjusting your position with a firm grip on your waist. He bunches the skirt around your hips, delivering a soft smack to the round curve of your now exposed ass.

A soft whimper falls over your lips, and you slightly lurch forward at the contact, but he is quick to reposition you, pulling you back to him.

It is most likely the choice of your underwear that has him go silent, fingers softly tracing along the lace of your burgundy thong, though he is quick to rid you of the last piece of fabric covering your lower body. Tom makes you step out of it, crouching down to lift your leg. You only faintly notice that he puts it in his pocket, and time to complain is sparse because his hands are back on your exposed skin within a second, cutting off your thoughts.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, drawing a soft mewl from your lips, “even more so than I thought.”

Another gentle smack, and you feel his hand gently massaging your thighs before they wander up further. He doesn’t proceed—he waits, lingering there for just a moment.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” He instructs, his voice soft, and you obey, parting your thighs to allow him better access. A whimper escapes your lips when Tom fully presses himself against you, making you feel the problem you’ve caused him.

His hand leaves your thigh, traveling up until he reaches your already soaked heat, humming as his fingers swipe through your folds, collecting your arousal. One finger slips inside of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, and you can’t help but buck your hips into his touch.

A second finger enters you, stretching, preparing you for him. You appreciate it—but all you want is to finally feel him.

“Riddle, please— I need you.”

His fingers withdraw then, hand wrapping around your throat instead, tilting your head backwards as you feel his hot breath ghosting over your ear.

“What’s my name?”

“Tom, God— please let me feel you, Tom.” You croak out, whimpering in defeat.

He lets you go then, the sound of him undoing his belt cutting through the night. “Good girl. Sounds so good when you say it.”

He casts a warming charm on you, a pleasant heat spreading through your body, and the next thing you feel is his tip nudging against your soaked entrance, slipping inside of you with a single, slow thrust. He groans when he’s inside of you completely—and it might be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

He’s told you to stay quiet—though that order is quickly forgotten when he sets a steady rhythm, fingertips pressing hard enough into your skin to leave bruises. He stretches you perfectly, filling you completely with every snap of his hips, knuckles turning white from how hard you are gripping the railing. The sound of your skin colliding with each thrust fills the air, accompanied by your moans and whimpers and occasional low groans from the man behind you.

“Spread your legs a little further for me, love.” Tom breathes, hand slipping between your legs once more as you do. Again, he finds your sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing the bud in slow, circular motions.

As your moans grow louder, walls clenching around him, he angles his thrusts slightly differently, his tip brushing over your most sensitive spots inside of you.

“Oh— Tom, don’t— don’t stop, fuck—“

His palm lands on your ass once more, but this time you arch your back into his touch, thighs trembling at the electrifying sensations shooting straight to your core.

With one of his hands on your waist, pulling you back into the sharp snaps of his hips, the other wraps around your throat again, pulling you flush against his chest. Like this he is able to reach even deeper, tip brushing against your cervix with every thrust, providing you with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck— squeezing me so tight. That good?”

You only manage a nod in return, eyelids fluttering close as you near your climax, walls fluttering wildly around his invading length.

“Open your eyes and look at the sky when you come, darling.”

So you do.

With one last high-pitched moan, you tumble over the edge, hot, white pleasure rushing through your veins as your cunt clamps down around him, his hands on your hips as they stabilize you when your knees are about to give in.

Soon after, your mind still hazy with the aftereffects of your own orgasm, he empties himself inside of you with a low groan, hips stuttering as he is buried to the hilt, making sure you take all of him.

Both of you stay like this for a while, catching your breath. Only when the warming effects of the charm he casted on you wear off does he pull out of you slowly, drawing a soft whimper from your lips at the loss. He fixes your skirt for you, takes care of his appearance before his arm wraps around your waist, helping you stand upright.

“I will need that back,” you say, pointing to the lace half hanging out of his pocket.

He tucks it away completely then. “Don’t know what you are talking about.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, leaning back against the railing.

A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips but fades as he studies you in the faint glow of the moonlight, his expression turning more serious.

“Did so well for me,” he says after some time, voice soft again, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You blink in confusion. Surely he didn’t—

“I wish you could see yourself the way you see the stars and the moon.” He goes on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are worthy of love.”

You shake your head. “Tom—“

Before you can protest, he presses his lips on yours, cutting off whatever words you were trying to form.

“I want you to teach me,” he exhales then, wrapping his coat around your shoulders, “how to love. Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

this was requested by my lovely @riddleswhcre 🩷 thank you so much for requesting baby!! you already know I am not particularly happy with how this turned out, but I hope it was still somewhat alright. <3

269 notes · View notes

v3n1ce-bxtch · 2 days ago

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Off to the Races Valentines Day Special ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Older!Rafe x Reader ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, impact play, use of “daddy”,cussing, breeding kink, cum swallowing, Rafe’s kinda rough, size kink, MDNI!!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ a/n: Happy Valentines Day loves!💋💗more fics coming soon!!

Rafe had never been one for grand gestures, but tonight was different. He’d surprised you with a pink Supra, sparkling jewelry that caught the light with every movement, and a dinner he had somehow managed to cook himself—though he would never admit how much of it was made by the chef with a little personal flair. You couldn’t help but laugh as he stood at the stove, holding a pair of tongs with a look of intense concentration. “You’re gonna love this, Darlin’,” he’d said with a smile, setting the table with care.

As the evening settled into its warmth, you found yourselves curled up on the couch, the soft glow of the fireplace dancing around you both. Your head rested on his shoulder as he lazily stroked your hair, his breath warm against your cheek.

“You know,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his jawline, “I think you might just be the best gift I could’ve gotten tonight.” Your voice was playful, teasing. “Although, I’m curious to see what you’ve got planned for later.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a slow smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You’ll see soon enough, Darlin’. You’ve been good tonight. Now, you just relax.” His hand traced your arm, sending shivers down your spine. His thumb brushed lightly across your lips before he kissed you again, soft and lingering.

You couldn’t resist being playful, your voice hushed but still full of excitement. “What if I don’t want to relax?” you whispered, your lips brushing against his neck. “What if I want you… right now?”

Rafe’s grip tightened around you as he smirked. “If that’s what you want,” he murmured, his voice dropping low with heat. “I’ve got no problem making sure you get exactly what you need.”

With that, he swept you off the couch, lifting you in his arms as if you weighed nothing. You let out a small laugh, kissing him all over his face, trailing little kisses down his neck as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “You spoil me, Rafe,” you whispered with a smile, as he carried you effortlessly to his room.

He gave you a look that was both tender and full of desire. “It’s not spoiling you if you deserve it, Darlin’.” He set you down on the bed gently, his hands brushing over your body as his lips followed every inch of your skin. “Now, let’s see just how much I can spoil you tonight.”

Rafe pulled your pink mini skirt down before toying with your panties . He whistled,”Damn, my favorite. I’m gonna have fun ruining these, I know you’re so wet for me right now.” He pushed them to the side.

“Rafey! Don’t mess them up!” You giggled.

He smirked smugly and stuck two fingers in you,”Hm, well last time I checked I bought them. So I can do whatever the fuck I want, Darlin’.” He explored your cunt before finding your sweet spot.

“Right there, Rafey!” You squirmed and squeezed around his fingers.

”Are you sure, Darlin’?” He sped up his pace and started sucking your clit.

You gasped and moaned, closing your eyes,”Oh fuck! Yes!” You put your hands on his head,”Keep going.” You gasped breathlessly. He chuckled and did in fact keep going until you came.

After a minute or so he pulled back, taking his fingers out and putting them in your mouth,”Fuckin’ taste yourself baby, this is all me.”

You took his fingers out of your mouth, one of your hands on his wrist and your other palming his hard cock,”You need a lil’ help with that, Rafey?” You giggled, teasing him.

He groaned and put his head back,”Fuck, yeah I do.” He took his belt of and wrapped them around your wrists,”You wanna help me?”

You nodded eagerly,”Mhm!”

He chuckled,”Needy needy girl.” He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and took his dress pants and boxers off. He spat in his hand and pumped his cock a few times before lining it up. He winced as he slowly pushed his tip in.

You felt an uncomfortable stretch and you whimpered,”Rafey.” You whined.

He kissed your forehead while he started a steady movement,”You okay, Darlin’?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to contain a squeal.

He gently grabbed your jaw,”Come on baby, I wanna hear you.” You nodded again and let out a high pitched squeal. He smiled,”There’s my Darlin’, keep making those noises f’me baby.” He put your hands around his waist and moved quicker, making the bed creak loudly.

You clutched onto the pillow as Rafe ruthlessly pounded into you,”Fuck! Rafey it’s too much! Daddy!” You yelped, squeezing your eyes closed.

He grunted,”You want me to stop, Darlin’?”

“No daddy!” You responded.

He groaned,”Perfect.” He drawled,”I don’t I was able too, this tight cunt keeps sucking me back in.” He leaned down to kiss youdeeply then pulled back,”You’re so beautiful, y/n.” He smiled

down at you. You couldn’t respond, so you smiled back at him. All of a sudden, he pulled out and turned you over on your stomach then hovered over you.

You whimpered,”Rafeee, why’d you stop? I was almost there!”

He sighed,”Stop complainin’, Darlin’. I’m not done yet.” He lined himself up again and roughly shoved himself in you,”See?” He grunted,”I’m not done.” He delivered a rough smack on your ass before grabbing it, his hard callouses on his palms digging into your ass.

You squealed,”Daddy!” You squeezed your eyes shut.

He smirked,”Keep calling’ me that baby.” He slapped your ass again while fucking your your cunt, making your shake under his touch.

You moaned,”Daddyyy.”

“That’s a good girl.” He groaned,”You want my cum, Darlin’? You want me to fill you up?” He grabbed your face, making you stretch your neck to face him. You whimpered. He shook his head,”I need a fuckin’ answer.” He said a tad bit more aggressive.

You nodded, gasping,”Y-yes I do!”

“Say it like you mean it.” He slammed into you roughly before returning back to his original pace.

“I do! I really do!” You squirmed, your nails digging into the leather of Rafe’s belt.

He slapped your ass a few times and stretched the waist band of your panties, making it snap off,”C’mon, say the exact words, Darlin’.”

You groaned,”Fuck! I want your cum, daddy! I want you to fill me up, daddy!” You screamed.

He chuckled,”There’s my girl.” He lowered himself on you, trapping you in your position.

“I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered barely above a whisper, but Rafe somehow heard you.

“Cum f’me baby, Daddy just needs a few minutes.” He slowed his pace down slightly.

You felt the familiar feeling of an orgasm forming, your mouth opened and you let out a moan,”Fuck!”

He kissed your neck softly,”Keep squeezin’ my cock. I’m almost there.” After a few minutes, Rafe slowed down, his hips bucking into you. Soon after, you felt warm ribbons of cum in your sore cunt. You both laid there in silence, breathing heavily. He pulled out of you and rolled you back over on your back before plopping right next to you, evidently still hard.

You smiled at him,”That was good.” Your hands slowly trailed down to his cock,”You still wanna go?” You swirled your thumb over the tip and stroked his cock slowly.

He put his hand over yours, guiding your motions,”Mhm.” He rolled his eyes back and he moved your hands faster,”Fuck.”

You moved his hand out of the way and positioned your mouth over his cock, licking the tip before taking some of him in your mouth. His hips bucked and he gently put his hand on your head pushing you down,”Damn, your mouth feels s’ good around me.” You giggled around his length, still stroking the base. He pushed your head down more,”Tap my thigh if it’s too much.” You nodded, looking at him with your glossy eyes. You sucked gently, which made him shudder,”Fuck! I’m bouta cum, Darlin’.” His hips met your mouth and his hands pushed your head farther down, then you felt Rafe’s hot cum in the back of your throat. You pulled your head back, gasping and swallowing what he gave you.

He motioned for you to come lay your head on his chest,”Did I hurt you baby?”

You shook your head, smiling,”Nope. I’m good.” You drew circles, hearts and stars on his chest with your pointer finger.

“Good. You want me to start the bath? I bought you those bath salts you wanted.”

You sat up and gasped, peppering kisses on his his face,”Thank you, Rafey!”

He smiled and picked you up off the bed,”Anything for you, Darlin’. Any day.”

Taglist: @strawberries-and-lots-of-kisses @vogueprincess @greengoblinswifey @whoreislands

160 notes · View notes

babybearnation · 2 days ago

Note

lando + only one bed trope = awkward/goofy!lando

once again ... i did not like lando this much until i met you LMAO

me 🤝 getting people into drivers they never liked before

lando norris x gn!reader (one bed trope)

you and lando were close friends - not the closest in your friend group, but you weren't afraid to banter with him or poke fun at him

you and your friend group were off on a trip together, a week away from the chaos of work and life

except, somehow, max fucked up and the place you had rented for the week had one less bedroom than you needed

a few minor squabbles occurred before lando offered that he'd go in with you

both of you blushed at the idea of that but everyone was too tired from travelling and too happy about a solution so no one noticed and wished you guys a good night

it was AWKWARD

lando has stuttered over about fifteen attempts to say something before finally just snatching his things and stalking off to the bathroom to change

you waited for him to come out before copying him

you both climbed into the bed and laid side by side, both of you staring at the barely lit ceiling, bodies tense and air thick with awkward silence

it was eerily quiet until...

"you reckon if we fucked everyone would hear?"

you couldn't help but laugh at that, all the tension melting from your body as you remembered that it was just lando you were with and you didn't need to be so afraid or tense, even if you did fancy the pants off of him

you turned on your side to face him, taking in the shadowy silhouette of his face

you two relaxed after that, chatting like you always did, slowly falling asleep in between silly jokes and philosophical chats

when you wake up, you find your face pressed into lando's neck and his arms wound tightly around you

you legs were tangled together as well and when you realised that, you flushed scarlet and tried to shuffle away

to no use, of course

lando tugged you closer, murmuring about how he needed your warmth, only making you blush further

it took a good ten minutes before he gained clarity and woke up properly

you two make eye contact and he goes to apologise, his face a soft hue of pink, when you leant up and kissed him, silencing his words

he kisses back instantly, rolling you onto your back and hovering above you

when you separated, his eyes were wild and manic and all he could whisper was "please tell me that wasn't an accident or a joke"

when you confirm it wasn't, lando leans down to kiss you again

in the kitchen, everyone is confused about where you are, and so they send keegan up who comes back down with rosy cheeks and a disgustingly wicked smirk

"i'll think they'll be a minute. too busy making out."

when the pair of you came downstairs later, everyone whooped and hollered, much to your embarrassment

#ᵔᴥᵔ fics #sir bear's sweetheart special #bear's inbox #koalapastries #lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #babybearnation

232 notes · View notes

bethivy · 2 days ago

Text

I was in high school in 2003, military family, hyper conservative Christian upbringing. My cousins were in that war, some of my friends. I want to add the context of propaganda here, from a personal side, beyond the people calling the shots. Because people I loved joined up drunk on this idea of American righteousness and justice: a lie that cost them their lives in some cases, their sanity in others. Some are still haunted by the things they did, that their government convinced them was in service of justice.

In the years following 9/11, everything was spun as getting "justice" for those killed in terrorist attacks. The news told us we were going into Iraq because we were following "the terrorists." The US was "rooting out evil." They were "forcing us" to hunt them down and find them, and destroy everything our path while doing it. We'd gloss over the deaths and destabilization, much like we fully left out that the Taliban in Afghanistan was set up by our own government before we went to war with them. The cleverness of a "war on terror" is terror can be anywhere. And if you keep your people terrified, they will back you up in continuing your father's oil wars in the middle east indefinitely. (You may note the similarities in how many news outlets talk about Israel's genocide in Gaza. That terrorist language justifying mass murder is the same.)

Americans are in some ways the picture of fragile masculinity. There had not been a foreign attack against the US since Pearl Harbor, and that shook people. We could not look weak. Weak is the worst thing an American can be, and what weakness means to those folks is nonviolent. They hit one of our cities? We have to destabilize a whole region. Under that was still greed, taking control of resources under the guise of justice, and white supremacy--evil in the early 2000s meant brown skin, nonwestern dress, or any knowledge whatsoever of Islam . So, while I learned many years later that many people opposed the war, I can say honestly, it never crossed my mind that going into Iraq was unreasonable. Everyone I knew--absolutely everyone, saw that action as defending our country, and getting justice for our dead. I would go so far as to say the media--and my family didn't watch fox, this was abc, nbc, all over --made it sound like our military actions were preventing WWIII.

As a progressive, primarily anarchist human being now, who's broken up with that culture and religion, I tell you all this so you can recognize that it is baffling to you because you see the facts of history, but you were not there for the spin they put on it, strong enough to convince people to die in service to greed and hate, and believe they are doing justice and mercy the whole time.

Question the stories your government tells you. Never trust messages of patriotism, even subtle, kind seeming ones. Listen to the voices of the other side, even if it makes you scared or uncomfortable. The brainwashing that fear and patriotism create is powerful, and it took me years to unlearn it.

That war seems insane, but what should tell you more than the confusion we have about it in hindsight is the ardor and love for country that so many Americans felt that fueled it.

I missed most of the Iraq war due to being a baby, but every time I read about it I start wondering why we aren’t all talking about it all of the time

#iraq #iraq war #living history #patriotism is evil

28K notes · View notes

revelboo · 2 days ago

Note

Give us Tfp Ratchet and my life is yours Revel 🙏 he'd be such a sap for Valentine's Day I just know it

Belatedly finishing up the Valentine’s requests since I crashed last night and there’s even more this morning. Once I get those done, I’ll go back to my story updates

Valentine’s Oneshot- Ratchet

TFP Ratchet x Reader

• Walking past where the kids are clustered on the couch, he frowns watching Miko cutting up red paper. ‘I mean, it needs to look mature,’ Jack is muttering. ‘Valentine’s is a card company scam anyway,’ Miko counters, sticking the little red shape she’d cut out in Raf’s hair, the boy frowning at her. Does he even want to know what they’re up to? “What exactly are you three doing?” Ratchet asks out of morbid curiosity. Grimacing when they all start talking at once. Jack has a crush. A machination of the evil corporate machine. Candy and flowers. Love. Their rambling explanations not really clarifying much. What he does get is that it’s a human holiday for lovers where gifts are exchanged. And that he has nothing for you, his expression twisting. ‘Hey, I can help!’ Miko yells, jumping up and- he doesn’t like that grin at all.

• Humming to yourself as you cook in the modified kitchen Fowler had begrudgingly requisitioned and the bots had integrated into the base, your head lifts when you hear peds. Turning, you cover your mouth laughing. Not expecting a mass displaced Ratchet or the fact that he’s plastered in tape and crude paper hearts. “Miko attack you?” You ask, turning off the stove eye and setting the skillet aside. “Look at you all festive, doc.”

• “I didn’t make a gift,” he mutters, venting tiredly. “So I’m apparently the gift.” Lips twitching into a wry smile when you reach out to tap a little paper shape over his spark. “Miko claims they’re hearts, but I can attest that human hearts don’t look like this.” You’re smiling up at him, though to make warmth spread through his spark. Especially when you laugh again. Feels guilty for not finding you something proper, something that shows how much he cares for you. Needs you. “Do I get a present?”

• Imperiously crooking a finger at him to bend down, you cup his face in your hands and go up on tiptoe, mouth warm and unhurried against his. Leaning your head against his, those eyes look up at him making heat and need spill through him. “You have to wait until after dinner for your present,” you whisper. Hand gripping your hip, he tugs you more firmly against him to make you laugh.

• Looping your arms around his neck, you let him lift you and wrap your legs around his waist. His mouth hungrily claiming yours again. “Ew. There’s kids present.” Miko’s voice startles you, face heating guiltily when you look up. It’s not like you were actually doing anything, but you’re still mortified at being caught tangled in Ratchet making out. Hear Ratchet growl under his breath, optics narrowing as Miko walks past both of you to snitch a cookie from the jar on the counter. ‘Do you mind?’ Ratchet snarls when she just leans against the cabinet to eat it. Openly staring and you snort as the medic vents in frustration and reluctantly lets you down. But you’ll make it up to him later. You’d gone shopping.

#transformers x reader #ratchet x reader #tfp ratchet

242 notes · View notes

meinii · 2 days ago

Note

Hiya! I don't know if you take requests, so feel free to ignore me if you don't! But my request is sylus x reader fic, where the reader isn't used to spending money. Like spending 50 bucks on anything other than food and Essentials was a waste yk. So she has a really hard time with him spending money on stuff she thinks isn't worth it. But he's all like but I want to spend the money on you. And she like *exe.crash* sylus that necklace is $100,000. Anyway I hope your haveing a great day! Also happy 💕valentines💕day if you celebrate! 🍾

“I want to”

tysm for the request ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ꒱ྀིა I hope you like this! (happy late valentine’s day lol)♡

content: fluff

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

you stared at the price tag like it had personally offended you

“five hundred dollars?” you muttered under your breath

Sylus, standing beside you, raised a brow “so?”

you turned to him, eyes wide “so? that’s way too much!”

he sighed, looking entirely unimpressed “it’s a dress”

“an expensive dress,” you argued “I don’t need it.”

he exhaled, rubbing his temples “you don’t need to need something to have it”

“yes, you do” you shot back, folding your arms

Sylus chuckled, amused “who told you that?”

“logic.”

he smirked, stepping closer. “your logic” he corrected

you sighed, shaking your head. “it’s just—I’m not used to spending money on things I don’t need.”

his smirk softened into something else—something more thoughtful

he reached for your hand, fingers warm against yours

“but I want to spend money on you” he murmured

your heart stuttered

“Sylus—”

“I can afford it,” he continued, squeezing your hand “it’s just money. and if I’m going to spend it, I’d rather spend it on you”

you swallowed

“but it’s unnecessary” you whispered

“no,” he corrected, tilting your chin up “it makes you happy. and that’s never unnecessary”

your face warmed

he sighed, stepping back, hands in his pockets

“listen,” he said “I know you don’t like wasting money. I know you grew up thinking you had to earn every little thing. but that’s not how this works.”

you looked at him, unsure

he met your gaze, unwavering “you don’t have to earn things from me. I want to give them to you because I can. because I want to.”

you swallowed

he sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck “just—let me do this, okay?”

you hesitated

then, finally, you sighed “fine”

his lips curled “so you’ll let me buy you the dress?”

you groaned “don’t push it.”

he laughed

but later, when you walked out of the store with the bag in his hand, you couldn’t help but smile

—

the spending didn’t stop there

one day, you opened your door to find a small box on the doorstep

inside was a delicate bracelet, the chain fine, the pendant small—a tiny crescent moon

you blinked, confused

then, as if on cue, your phone buzzed

SYLUS: open your door

you frowned, stepping outside

he stood there, hands in his pockets, looking smug as ever

“Sylus,” you started “did you—?”

“yes”

you exhaled “you really don’t have to keep buying me things”

“I know”

you looked at him “then why do you?”

he smirked, stepping closer

“because,” he murmured, reaching out to clasp the bracelet around your wrist “I want to.”

your breath hitched

he glanced up, watching you carefully

“does it bother you?” he asked, quieter this time

you hesitated

“no” you admitted

he smirked “good.”

you sighed, looking down at the bracelet

it was beautiful

and, against all logic, you liked it

—

you started noticing it more after that

the little things

the way he’d quietly pay the bill before you even reached for your wallet

the way he’d slip new books onto your shelf without saying a word

the way he’d drape his coat over your shoulders when it was cold, not even asking if you needed it

it wasn’t just about money

it was about you

about making sure you had everything you wanted—whether you asked for it or not

Sylus, you realized one day, is completely and utterly shameless when it comes to spoiling you

and, despite yourself, you didn’t hate it

—

but there were still moments where it overwhelmed you

like the time you walked into your living room and found a brand-new pair of shoes sitting on the coffee table—ones you had casually mentioned wanting weeks ago

“Sylus!” you called

he poked his head into the room, looking unbothered “hmm?”

you held up the shoes “what is this?”

“a gift.”

“Sylus”

he smirked “I saw you looking at them”

you groaned “you have to stop doing this”

“why?”

“because it’s too much!”

he stepped closer, crossing his arms

“too much for who?”

you hesitated

he sighed, running a hand through his hair

“if it was for anyone else,” he murmured “I wouldn’t bother. but it’s you. and i want to do this for you”

your chest tightened

“why?” you whispered

he tilted his head

“because you’re mine.”

your breath hitched

he exhaled, reaching for your hand

“look,” he said, voice softer now “I know you don’t need this stuff. I know you’d be fine without it. but that doesn’t mean I can’t want to give it to you”

you swallowed

“you don’t owe me anything,” he continued “you don’t have to feel guilty. this isn’t some kind of trade”

his grip on your hand tightened

“it’s just me,” he whispered “giving you things because I can. because I want to. because you deserve them.”

your heart clenched

slowly, you looked down at the shoes

they were really nice

you sighed

“okay” you relented

he smirked “yeah?”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah”

his fingers brushed over your knuckles

“good” he murmured

and when you put the shoes on later, feeling just a little lighter, you realized—maybe it wasn’t so bad, after all.

292 notes · View notes

random2908 · 1 day ago

Text

My grandfather's grandparents were killed in a pogrom in 1920. The political setup was:

The Austro-Hungarian Empire had collapsed during WWI. So coming out of the war there was no real government of Hungary.

The intelligentsia class (doctors, lawyers, teachers) was somewhat Jewish, and somewhat communist, so a lot of the communist leadership in Budapest was Jewish. That was one of two major factions trying to create a government in Hungary starting from 1919 and over the next few years.

The other major faction was the far-right alliance of monarchists (mostly unpopular and pushed to the fringes of the movement) and proto-fascist nationalists (who would become actual fascists a few years later, once that movement fully congealed in Italy and then spread to surrounding nations).

To win hearts and minds, the proto-fascists claimed that they had the Hungarian people's best interests in mind much more than the communists, because the communists were Jewish.

To counter that propaganda--outside of Budapest itself where a lot of the communists were actually Jewish--the communist movement decided to kill as many Jews as it could find and redistribute all their property, to prove that they were more anti-Jewish than the fascists. The fascists thought this sounded like great fun, and so a contest was born, the two groups roving through the Hungarian countryside and killing as many Jews as they could.

It happened that it was the communists, rather than the fascists, who killed my great-great grandparents (beat them to death). I suppose this was inevitable: they were the head servants at a count's estate, which meant that they were among the least-poor people in a county where everyone was poor, so they were prime targets for wealth redistribution. (The count's property was untouched, because he was a noble, so it was all his by divine right.)

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

As for Trump, supporting Israel is not the same as supporting Jews. Most pro-Israel voters in the US are Evangelical Christians; there are more than twice as many Zionist Evangelical Christians in the US than there are Jews in the entire world. And the reason they're pro-Israel is because Israel needs to exist as a Jewish country in order for their apocalypse to start, at which point they (the Evangelical Christians) will be raptured safely to heaven and everyone else will die horribly and go to hell. (This sounds completely insane, but it's so central a part of their religion that they're happy to talk about it openly, if you ask them why they support Israel; they won't even bother hiding behind other platitudes or anything.)

But as someone above pointed out, Trump sure did say threatening things about Jews during his election campaign a few months ago. And he redefined Jews as a separate "nationality" during his first presidency--othering us and implying that we aren't fully American. Whatever he thinks of Israel, he is a danger to Jews.

(And honestly, what Trump thinks of Israel is that Bibi is a man very like himself. Someone who would go to jail for fraud and corruption if he lost his political hold, and is willing to do any unethical thing, up to and including dismantling democracy and killing large numbers of people, to evade justice. So Trump is personally friends with Bibi and supports him in every unethical and immoral act. Additionally, as evidenced by Trump's attempt at "Muslim bans" in his first presidency, he thinks dehumanizing Muslims is at the very least politically expedient, and possibly even something he personally believes in although it's always hard to tell what Trump really believes; and so will jump on opportunities to do so. None of this makes Trump any sort of ally to Jews.)

“trump isn’t antisemitic bc he supports israel” he supports whatever israel can do for him and the united states (in that order). “okay but he supports jews in the united states!” he is using us as a political tool as goyim often do. if he actually cared about dismantling antisemitism, he’d realize that superficially uplifting jews while leading a crusade against “dei” will only strengthen the left’s resentment of us. he doesn’t give a fuck about jews i promise lol

#anyway this is part of why I would never support anarchism and much prefer big-government socialist-leaning democracy #because sure there have been times when governments have killed my ancestors (my great-grandparents died in Auschwitz)#but there have also been times when governments have saved my ancestors--and myself I'm sure #and NOTHING else has ever saved us EXCEPT for benevolent governments #so even if it's not a sure bet it's better than zero

951 notes · View notes

dragonnarrative-writes · 2 days ago

Text

Transferrable Skills Part 9

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Smut, 18+/MDNI, praise, kissing, manual stimulation, oral sex (Reader receiving), premature ejaculation, dirty talk, power exchange, hand on neck (no breath restriction), face-sitting, breath restriction (Simon receiving)

Notes: Happy Valentine's Day and anniversary of the death of the colonizer James Cook at the hands of the people of Hawai'i.

Simon pulls his thumb free and swipes it over your lips. You chase it, then gasp when his whole hand wraps around your neck. He meets your eyes, then uses his thumb to rock your head from one side to the other, slow. Your arms feel a bit weak as he examines your face.

“Color,” he rumbles.

“Green.”

“Wan’ you t’ sit on my face,” he says. “Color.”

You lick your lips, think for a moment. “Yellow-green.”

“Good girl.” Simon’s eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles. “Talk to me.”

It would be silly to say “I’m a bit heavy,” since you’re pretty sure he could bench you as a warm up. “I don’t want to hurt your neck.”

“Won’t let you,” Simon answers, like it’s that easy. Maybe it is.

Still, you’re a bit nervous. “I haven’t had a shower.”

He uses his light grip on your neck to hold your gaze. “You trust me?”

You can’t help but nod. “I do.”

“Then trust me when I say I wan’ to. We c’n shower, later, if you wan’.” He shrugs. “Don’ mind eatin’ twice. C’n let you know the difference, if you like.”

“Simon!”

His laugh shakes the bed, and then the hand behind his neck comes down to grab your hip. He draws you up his body, until one of your hands is braced on his shoulder. You can’t help the way you shiver when he settles your legs on either side of his ribs, spread so wide there’s no way to avoid pleasant pressure where you’re already sensitive.

“Color, sweet girl.”

God, you want to do what he’s asking, but... “Are you sure?”

The grip on your hip goes just a little tighter. “I’m not gonna let you hurt me. An’ ‘m not hurtin’ you. This is only fun if we’re both ‘avin’ fun. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged.” It’s amazing how much the familiar idea calms you. “You’re not going to ask me for anything you don’t really want. I don’t have to agree to anything I don’t want. It’s supposed to be fun.” You take a deep breath and let it out. “Green.”

Simon hums as his hand comes down from your neck to sit against your collar bones and sternum. And then you’re yelping when he suddenly lifts you. You try to freeze, because of course you do, but he does something to get your legs around his arms and then your knees are up by his temples.

He only waits long enough for your hands to smack against the wall above the headboard before both of his are pulling you down against his mouth. You’re suddenly struck by the almost fearful realization that he’s made you tell him, many times, exactly how you like to be touched.

His lips and tongue immediately find your clit. But instead of the bombardment that you expect, Simon’s mouth is soft against you. He braces his big hands under your hips, and you can’t help but start to relax into his hold. The self-consciousness eases away as he drags the flat of his tongue over you, slow and indulgent. He makes a pleased sound from between your thighs and you can’t help but giggle as you let yourself sink closer to that fuzzy place your mind was in before.

It doesn’t take long for your hips to protest the position. You shift more of your weight onto your knees and let your forehead rest against your forearms. Apparently, that’s what Simon’s been waiting on, because his lips purse around your clit and suck. The moan that shivers out of you is echoed by his groan. And that’s all the warning you get before he really gets going.

Simon pulls you even more firmly against his mouth, and you know he can’t breathe, that his nose is surrounded by the fat around your mound. He doesn’t seem to give a damn, alternating between sucking kisses and spearing his tongue into your pussy with abandon. Something he does makes you clench and twitch against his face, a not-quite ticklish sensation that shoots up your spine. He does it again, again, again, until you’re grinding against his jaw with punched out moans.

You don’t even have time to worry about his lack of air. All of a sudden, his palms push you up, taking all of your weight for just a second, before you’re sat right back down. That casual show of strength would make you weak in the knees if you were standing. As it is, you can only moan and shiver as his hands shift, until his thumbs can hold your lips apart to give his tongue even more access to you.

The noises between you are obscene. You can bury your face in your arms to avoid seeing the blissful expression on his face, but there’s no way to avoid the wet sound of his mouth working. You can’t ignore how slick the entire lower half of his face feels against your pussy, your thighs, the underside of your ass. And then he uses his hand to shift your thigh and spread you even more open.

Jesus, you’re going to come like this. You can feel it fluttering through you, feel yourself getting wetter by the moment.

“S-Simon,” you whimper. You reach down with one hand to run your fingers through his short hair. “I’m - Simon, you’re gonna -”

His hands press you up again, just long enough for him to growl, “Give it to me.”

“Simon!” You accidentally yank at him when his tongue sweeps over your clit again. It’s hard to feel bad about it when he moans his approval into you. When he squeezes at your thighs, just this side of painful, you squeak, pulling again. “Si-!”

As you look down, his eyes are already fixed on your face, pupils blown wide. His right hand shifts, and then the tip of one of his fingers is inside of you again. The awkward angle makes you arch your hips back, chasing the sensation right into rutting against his tongue in an overwhelming wave of sensation.

You barely make a sound as your pussy clenches against his fingers, suddenly and totally breathless. The orgasm that rolls through you isn’t as devastating as the first one, but it’s strong enough to make your legs shake. You almost lose your balance, but he’s there, holding you up. His groans easily drown out your whimpering.

When he just doesn’t stop, you give his arm two desperate taps. “Si-imon!”

The prickle of his stubble startles half a yelp from you as he lets you slide unceremoniously off of his face and onto his chest. He looks debauched, smirk shining with evidence of your pleasure.

“Tha’ weren’t so bad, eh?” he rumbles up at you. He coos when all you can do is cover your face with one hand and shiver. “Feelin’ good, pretty girl?”

You hum, then look down at him from between your fingers. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Did good trustin’ me,” He pets over your legs, equal parts gentle and firm. He looks contemplative for a moment, before asking, “Wanna cuddle?”

That’s exactly what you want. You swing one leg over so you’re not straddling him anymore. And then there’s a confused moment of getting your bodies aligned. The queen sized bed feels so much smaller with him in it. And then you realize that his face is still wet. You’re still wet against the thigh he’s put between your own.

You cringe when he uses the edge of the flat sheet to swipe half-heartedly at his mouth and chest. He laughs at your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead. When he lets you go to look into your eyes, you can’t help but press your lips to his.

He opens his mouth to yours immediately, and the kiss becomes filthy. His mouth tastes like you, like you’ve seeped into his skin.

So much for cuddling, you giggle to yourself as he rolls you onto your back and pins you under his bulk.

#transferrable skills #dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #kink fics #manic pixie dream ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #black reader #PSA from Price sitting backwards in a chair: Remember to practice Risk Aware Consensual Kink #any pressure on the neck can be dangerous #breath play is also dangerous #i would have given them an adjustable queening chair #but alas - they are in a hotel and don't have one on hand

200 notes · View notes

transforming-transformer · 3 days ago

Text

Call Me Chad

Charlie never thought that a beautiful girl like Rachel would show any real interest in a geek like him, but to use him just to get to Jack? His dumb musclehead roommate who he also had to tutor to get paid enough by his football coach? He felt heartbroken, trying to find the right words to say to her to not leave him.

“I just can’t see a future between us, especially if you’re not hot like Jack,” Rachel said, as Jack wrapped his arm around her slender waist.

“Bro, she’ll never continue dating a nerdy loser like you,” Jack scoffed, cutting Charlie off.

The small, twig-like nerd lips quivered and his reddened eyes burst into tears as he ran out of the frat party, only to be caught by a few of Jack’s douchebag posse to be stripped till he was completely naked and eventually dunked into the swimming pool. It left him embarrassed, vulnerable and overwhelmed, as he was surrounded by pompous, superficial jerks that kept laughing and sneering at him. All of it turned his shame and guilt into anger and vengeance—

———

“CHARLIE! Wake up, man. The library’s gonna close in half an hour.”

Charlie woke up disgruntled and deeply frustrated. Fuck, he’d dreamt about the set-up. Again. It’d been a few weeks since he got dumped, and it still consumed his mind like crazy. He rubbed his eyes softly and looked up to see his good friend William waving his hand in front of Charlie’s face.

“Hey, you okay? You’ve been dozing off quite a bit during study group,” William asked, looking concerned.

Charlie sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I’m awake. Just…”

“The set-up?” William replied. Charlie froze.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Charlie, it’s the only thing that’s been on your mind for three months, and with the way things happened, I wouldn’t blame you for being so fixated on it,” William rubbed Charlie’s back caringly as he spoke, his hand pushing his glasses back up to position.

Charlie sighed again, and sunk his head down. “But I shouldn’t be. I should have moved on by now, found someone new—”

William cut him off. “Don’t you dare go into what-ifs. That’ll only keep you miserable.”

“I know… it’s just… I wanna be someone’s special someone, but I can’t when I look like a stick and have to compete with huge muscle guys like Jack and his friends…” Charlie shook his head, frustrated and exasperated, while William gave him a comforting bro hug…

But William wished he could be more than just a friend to Charlie. See, William had been there for Charlie pretty much all their lives, growing up together and being very close. Hell, William had especially been there for him that night too: picking him up from the frat house; sitting with and comforting Charlie in his dorm; making sure he ate well and didn’t binge or starve himself; if anything, William would’ve made a great, loving boyfriend to Charlie… if only Charlie wasn’t so painfully straight and thought this was just a good friend looking out for a friend in pain. He, too, was frustrated by Charlie’s situation and constant thinking of the past.

Charlie rose from his chair and looked at William, smiling softly. “Thanks for being here for me, Will. It really means a lot to have a friend like you,” he said before walking away.

“L-likewise, Charlie. I’ll see you later,” Will replied, a smile forced onto his lips as he watched Charlie leave the library. Fuck, if only there was something he could do to make both his and Charlie’s situations ease up, but also align so they could be together.

Just as William was about to leave, he noticed a shimmer out of the corner of his eye. Turning to see where it came from, he noticed an old, rickety door with an oddly polished handle built in between the bookshelves. “Huh, I’d not seen that there before…” he mumbled as he walked over to it and turned the handle. The door swiftly opened, and Will stepped into what looked like a dusty, abandoned storage room, covered in cobwebs, rags and dust. He was intrigued at first, but screamed when he heard the door slam behind him without warning.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT??” he shouted, grabbing his phone and turning its flashlight on to look around for the source of the door closing. As he kept searching, a bunch of lanterns mysteriously flared up, suddenly illuminating the room to reveal an ancient-looking book on a cobwebbed lectern. After taking a few breaths to calm down, Will blew the dust off the book, to see its title: “The Jock Bible”. An Ancient Greek-style illustration of a hot, muscular guy adorned the cover.

“Hmm, interesting name for a book…” he pursed his lips, intrigued as he lifted the cover. He was suddenly overwhelmed when a golden aura emerged from the pages and blinded him, filling him with immense knowledge, knowledge that could play to both his benefit, as well as Charlie’s. The thoughts swirling in his mind made him smirk. Perhaps there could be a way to make Charlie his after all… though he himself might want to use it for his own needs too.

The next morning, Charlie waited in line at the cafeteria, concealing himself in a purple hoodie to not draw any attention from people. The party had made him embarrassingly and overwhelmingly visible, which gnawed at him and forced the poor nerd to resort to wearing more and more hoodies, just to hide. As he neared the trays and plates on the way to the buffet, he felt a firm, thick-fingered hand grab his shoulder, which sent shivers down his spine.

“Hey there, Chad, man you’re looking more huge every day,” a deep voice spoke.

“Wait, that voice is familiar,” Charlie thought, and turned around to see a handsome hunk standing there, in a blue tank top and grey sweatpants, which threw him off so much he jumped. The jock in front of him chuckled, while Charlie gripped his tray.

“Bro, chill, looks like you’ve seen a ghost or something,” he smirked as he eyed Charlie up and down. Another shiver ran down the nerd’s spine, and he felt strangely… comfortable. Charlie took a few steps back as he still felt nervous around this guy, even if he was more chill about it, but the musclehead sauntered over and slapped the nerd’s back.

“Come on, let’s sit together and chat, Chad,” he said.

Charlie replied back, firmly, “My name’s not Chad! It’s Charlie!”

The jock shook his head and smirked. “Nah, dude, you’re Chad alright. One of the biggest dudes I’d ever seen.”

Afraid of this guy and what he was saying, Charlie threw his tray at the jock and made a run for it. He ran past the building he was supposed to have class in in an hour, past his residence hall, he even ran past the fraternity quad. When he stopped and took a breath, he looked around to see he was in the athletics area of campus, which spooked him. He could see the gym and the football field in front of him, and as he took a step back to wonder what the hell was going on, that slight shiver that ran down his spine tingled once more, and all of a sudden, his shirt felt extremely tight on him, as if compressing him.

“What the fuck is happening?” he asked, panting as he peeled off his shirt to no avail, the fabric tearing at his growing body. The buttons on his shirt bounced off as he felt his muscles grow at a rapid rate, which made him almost scream, while his shirt finally fell to the ground in a pile of shredded rags, to reveal a shocking surprise: rounded shoulders, defined pecs, washboard abs, toned arms, and a pair of legs strong enough to crush watermelons.

“H-holy shit, I’m buff??” he asked himself, and as he curled his arm into a flex, his bicep vein popped out, showing just how lean he was. His eyes went wide in horror. “What the fuck is going on??”

“Chad, Bro, I told you, you’re looking more huge everyday,” the jock from the canteen said, appearing as if out of nowhere. Charlie jumped and stepped back.

“Who the fuck are you?” Charlie asked, shutting his mouth as he heard a deep, bovine voice emerge from his mouth. “What the fuck is happening to me? What are you doing to me?” he cried, cowering in fear.

“That’s not the Chad I know. Dude, you’re the cockiest, most confident sigma jock on campus, not some wussy nerd,” the jock responded with a chuckle.

“I keep telling you, my name’s not Chad! It’s Chad—” Charlie tried to say his own name, but the name Chad slipped out of his lips instead. No matter how hard he tried, the name Chad stuck to his tongue like honey. “What the hell is going on?”

“You’ll see when we’re done, Chad.” The jock winked and sauntered away, his muscles defined by the sunlight above while Charlie watched, confused and terrified altogether. What did that musclehead mean by “you’ll see when we’re done”?

Walking back to his dorm, Charlie felt exposed. Embarrassed. He tried to cover up his body, but his hands, large as they were, were unable to fully cover his massively ripped chest, which bounced with every step he took. The now-lean muscular nerd, glasses still on, kept his head hung low to avoid attracting any more attention. However, when he was a few feet away from the front door, he heard giggles and whistles from the other side of the street. Charlie looked up, and noticed a trio of sorority girls looking at him. No, not just looking. Ogling him. Licking their lips and blowing kisses at him. As they did, his spine tingled… and he thought his dick was getting hard too. He smirked back at them with a confident grin, flexing one of his arms. The girls giggled even more, which made the nerd blush, until he realized his dick was still soft and limp.

His face went pale at the realization, and before he could even try to process what the hell was going on, Charlie ran off into his residence hall, until he was finally in the comfort of his own room. Not at all realizing that he’d dropped and broken his glasses on the way.

———

It had been an intense two days since that strange jock pestered Charlie, and since he… well, got the body of one. He was still confused as to how he could just magically buff up like he did, especially since it looked like he’d been working out since he was thirteen and played football at the same time. Scouring through Google to find answers, there seemed to be no solution to changing himself back to his normal nerdy self. Not just that, he knew he couldn’t keep hiding like this - he was bound to step outside and run into people.

“Ughhhh, what do I do?” he asked himself.

Then, he realized there was one person he hadn’t seen since his change. William.

Charlie grabbed his phone and, with his meaty fingers, sent a message to his best friend, hoping he could have someone to trust with his secret.

CHARLIE: <<William, I need your help>>

The nerd-in-a-jock’s-body held his breath, waiting for a response, and sure enough, the text bubble showed up as William typed out his reply… one that poor Charlie was not expecting.

WILLIAM: <<sup chad? i was wondering where u went>>

Charlie was baffled, and in his shock, dropped his phone. Did that jock steal William’s phone? Was this some sort of elaborate prank that Jack and his buddies were pulling? His phone buzzed again, and he picked it up to see a new message from whoever had his bestie’s phone.

WILLIAM: <<earth to chad, bruh sometimes you can be so thick huhuhu>>

As he read this, he felt an intense fog fill his mind, obscuring his panic and attempts to make sense of the situation. A chuckle left his lips, and his hand covered them in waning concern. Charlie wasn’t dumb… was he?

He put the phone down on his bed, and looked around the mess of a bedroom he was in: empty packs of chips, half-full bottles of soda and water, clothes strewn in every corner. Well, less clothes, more like shredded pieces of fabric that were once clothes that used to fit his lanky frame. All that survived were some of his oversized t-shirts and baggy jeans, which were more form-fitting on his now-muscular physique, leaving little to the imagination. That, and a set of gym clothes he found outside his door the night after his sudden second puberty. A tight grey Under Armour compression shirt that showed off his massive pecs, a pair of black five-inch inseam shorts that hugged his thighs, and a jockstrap.

If anything, his room resembled what he thought a douchey jock’s dorm would look like.

Charlie stood up, and he felt his head go woozy, the fog in his mind intensifying and concealing more of his usual train of thought. He sniffed like a dog, sensing there was an awful stench coming from inside his room. He first thought it was his clothes - sure, they had some cheesy scent to them, but not as intense as this one was. His shoes? Rank, but not what he was looking—OH, it was himself. Charlie’s pits reeked like crazy, his B.O. filling up the room and replacing the oxygen in it. Normally, he would wrinkle his nose in disgust, but with his mind in a daze, he let out another chuckle.

“Bruh, I reek,” he said, in a low, bovine tone reminiscent of Jack.

Fuck, Jack. That sexy motherfucker, with muscles that glistened with sweat, a handsome face that he could just kiss, and a dick worth sucking—

Wait, what??

Charlie quickly got dressed in the new gym clothes he got, not even bothering to shower or clean himself up, grabbed his phone and bag, and ran out of his dorm, pushing some of his fellow nerds out of the way. He made it outside, the sun shining on his chiseled face, and he began to saunter over to…

Wait, where was he going again?

He pulled out his phone, and looked through his calendar to see what class he had. He’d already missed his degree-required Python Coding class at 8:30 AM, History of Japan at 11:30 AM, and now it was past 2:00 PM. Charlie had… Physiology of Exercise at 3:00 PM followed by HIT DA GYM at 6:00 PM? As he regained some of his composure, Charlie was shaken. These two things on his roster were stuff a jock would study and do. He usually had Study Group with his friends at six… what the fuck was going on with him?

As the nerd felt some of the mind fog ease and dissipate, he noticed the same trio of girls from two days back, the ones Charlie flexed for, but this time they were accompanied by their frat bro boyfriends - all looked like they were cut from the same cloth: white, chiseled jawlines, built bodies. Charlie’s jaw dropped at the sight of these men, his cock was getting hard just by ogling them, and tenting visibly in his tight shorts. He was straight! Into girls! He wasn’t gay. He… he couldn’t be. He grabbed his bag and covered his obscene bulge, waddling over to the library to calm himself down and figure out what was happening to him.

———

William, meanwhile, was returning to his room at the Eta Theta Tau frat house, locking the door behind him as he pulled out The Jock Bible from his backpack. He smirked as he flexed his biceps in front of the full-length mirror on the wall, before sitting down and opening the magical tome that had granted him not only the body and life he’d dreamt of. He charmed his way, literally and figuratively, into Eta Theta Tau, the college football team, and even the Honors Society. He became insanely popular, grew in strength as he did bicep curls with 28-kilogram dumbbells, gained a rugged handsomeness by stealing some traits from his fellow frat bros, all of which made William more visible and prominent in the social fabric of campus life.

The Jock Bible also gave the new frat bro, actually more like the Frat President, immense power to reshape reality and whoever he wanted to fit his new life. That included his crush on Charlie, soon to be his dumb boyfriend Chad. He laughed as he remembered scaring the shit out of his skinny nerd friend, taunting him into growing his muscles. They were getting big enough for William’s, or rather Will’s, taste, but he wasn’t so much into Charlie’s intellect. It kinda drove an unseen wedge between the two of them, and made Will feel dumb sometimes.

Well, with this next phase of the plan, that was about to change, and now he wondered what Charlie was doing with his text messages from earlier.

“Charlie, I can’t wait to make you my blissfully dumb muscle slut,” he chuckled as he turned the pages of the book to see what else he could pull off.

———

Charlie stumbled out of the library two hours later. It was fine, he thought, I can skip this class, it’s not even a class I remember signing up for. As he walked around, the golden rays of sunlight hitting his perfectly-tanned skin, he saw the jock who’d made him into an oaf of a man strutting in his direction. Charlie hid behind a tree, his breath picking up as he shivered nervously. His mind felt somewhat the same, but also felt a bit slower than usual.

“Who is this dude, and what does he want with me?” he asked himself.

He suddenly gasped as he felt a bunch of hands grab his arm, yanking him from his very obvious hiding place. Charlie’s eyes went wide when he saw who pulled him out - it was Jack and his group of bros, smirks on their faces as they looked at him.

“Yo, Chad, why’re you hiding from us dude?” Jack chuckled, patting the nerd’s back.

One of his posse, Dan, smirked. “Bruh, we got push day at six, you’ll be there, right?” he asked.

Charlie was even more confused, seeing his tormentors treat him as if he were like one of them. No, they were treating him as one of them. Panic rose inside Charlie, as it was quite the shift. Something felt really off, but before he could even speak his mind, his mouth spoke for him. “You know it, my man. Gotta get this chest so huge it’ll break a bra in half,” Charlie grinned back involuntarily, his hand cupping his pecs, which caused him to moan.

The group of jocks laughed out loud, as Jack held onto Charlie’s shoulder. “Man, you gotta control yourself, no one’s gotta know you turn yourself on,” he replied. Charlie stared at Jack, noticing that he was taller and bulkier than his bully. That was a welcome sight for him, considering he wanted revenge for the set-up, but there was something about Jack being smaller yet still muscular that Charlie was starting to find… hot. The posse sauntered off, cackling amongst themselves as the jock-nerd ogled them, feeling more confused than he did earlier. Poor Charlie, if only he knew…

The hours flew by, and before Charlie knew it, it was nearly six. He sat down on a rock by the lake, tears in his eyes as he watched the sun set, the sky filled with gold and the water crashing against the rocks below him. “What’s the matter with me?” he asked himself, rubbing his reddened eyes with his bear-like paws.

“Bro, chillax, you’re a jock now,” a voice bellowed in his head. Charlie turned around, trying to figure out where this jock-voice came from.

“Let go, man. No need for smarts anymore when you’re this jacked.”

His breath got heavier as he realized it was coming from his own head. “But… this isn’t me! I’m not a musclehead. I’m not friends with Jack. I’m not…” he paused.

“What, gay as a three dollar bill?” the voice, which he assumed must be the Chad everyone thought he was, asked. Charlie nodded.

“I’m straight, I’m into girls,” he stuttered out, feeling even more confused as his mind conjured up an image of the jock who’d started all this.

Chad chuckled dumbly. “Dude, chicks don’t really care about our muscles, but the bros? Man, do they want a piece of the action. Don’t you wanna finally enjoy life and get to fuck someone?”

Charlie gulped. This jock persona was right, even though it was hard to listen to an oaf, even if he was in his own mind. “I… I guess…”

“Then let go man, don’t be such a pussy. You’ll get everything you ever dreamed of,” Chad replied, and Charlie felt his lips curl into a jock-like smirk. One full of confidence, as if he knew he was the shit.

Charlie was now, though, now that he really, really thought about it. He had muscles now, and big ones too. He looked like he could play for the college football team as a tight end or a quarterback with his size. His face looked like it’d been carved by the ancient Greeks or Michelangelo, with how sharp his features were.`As for the python swinging between his legs? Well, I bet Jack’s couldn’t even compare.

“I just don’t wanna be—”

“What, an asshole? An arrogant douchebag?”

“Bingo,” Charlie sighed. “It all feels so surreal, but I don’t wanna betray who I am.”

Chad laughed. “Bruh, trust me, I’m just as dopey and curious as you are. I’m you, just hotter, more confident… maybe dumber, but at least I use my body and my mind for what actually matters.”

“So I’m just supposed to let go—what the fuck??”

Charlie screamed, as he suddenly found himself in the middle of the campus gym, and in the middle of a rep on the incline bench. His arms lifted the barbell with ease.

“How’d I get here?” he asked himself.

“You talked too much, little dude, had to get to the gym in time,” Chad replied as Charlie watched his body betray him, pushing and grunting through a few more reps on the bench press before setting the barbell down and sitting upright. “Trust me man, you, me, we can be happy if we choose to be.” Charlie stood up and saw his humongous body in one of the mirrors on the wall, his mouth agape in wonder while he flexed his biceps. They were the size of his former head. As he flexed, he felt… content. Strong as fuck. Happy, even.

“There we go, little dude, you and I are gonna become one sexy Chad by the end of tonight,” Chad spoke with Charlie’s mouth, and Charlie… well, he understood now. Maybe this was just what he needed.

———

Chad kept up the push day workout, grueling through incline bench presses, cable flys, weighted tricep dips, dumbbell skull crushers… the list went on. Grinding through each rep, Charlie felt his muscles pump up even more, sending a thrill of strength and cockiness through him, while Chad grunted, fixing his bulge every now and again. As the pair-in-one-body sauntered around each machine, they felt eyes staring at them - some girls found him hot, others found him disgusting when his B.O. wafted into their noses, while the other dudes… they thirsted over his physique, complimenting him.

“Holy shit, bro, you look huge!” one gym bro said.

Another one replied, “Dude, you’re the real alpha here.”

Chadlie smirked when a cute twink named Jamie came up to him and asked, “Um… excuse me, how do I work out to look just like you?” The twink’s bubble butt bounced, and Chad just wanted to plow his fuckstick inside that cute boy’s hole. Charlie stammered as he tried to give some tips, but he felt his hand cup the boy’s ass, squeezing that soft flesh between his fingers.

Jamie blushed scarlet. “W-would you wanna head to the showers?”

Chadie nodded, a sly grin on his face as he picked up the cutie and strutted to the locker room, grabbing a pair of towels and carrying Jamie into one of the private shower cubicles. Charlie couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but Chad could. The jock ripped off Jamie’s gym clothes off his slender body, while the very slutty twink got to work, peeling the stud’s shorts and jockstrap to the floor and getting onto his knees. Jamie licked the tip of Chadie’s cock, the jock shuddering in pleasure as his little boy guided his ten-inch monster through his dick-sucking lips and into his oh-so-perfectly-tight mouth.

“Fuckkkkk bro,” Chad and Charlie both moaned, their body’s hand grabbing Jamie’s soft, curly hair, letting his fingers run through each lock before gripping the twink’s head, then slamming his cock further down his throat, his lips meeting the base of his jock cock. Every inch of Charlie’s resistance to becoming Chad was wearing down with each thrust of his hips, precum dripping into Jamie’s throat as the twink cupped his baseball-sized nuts and massaged them so nicely, he almost busted one. But they kept going, and once he felt like his dick had been lubed up enough by the amazing sloppy he was getting, he pulled Jamie’s head off and lifted the twink up, turning him around and bending his sweet ass over.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, slut,” Charlie whispered seductively into Jamie’s ear. Or was it Chad? It was unclear now who was who, as the nerd began to let the jock into him, letting go as he plowed Jamie’s ass raw. The twink whined like a bitch in heat as he couldn’t hold on for much longer, as Charlie kept ramming his cock against Jamie’s prostate so hard that he could only see stars. Jamie came from his tiny nub, but Chad kept going, fucking the cutie as if he were just a plaything, grunting like a beast as he neared his own climax.

“Holy shit bro, I’m gonna CUMMMMMM!” the jock shouted, as he blew a massive load inside Jamie’s tight ass, filling it up to the brim and letting it leak a bit out of the twink’s hole as he slid out. In his mind, Charlie’s and Chad’s minds melted together in orgasmic bliss, blending together to create a cocky yet dopey, dumb yet curious, straight-passing yet gay-as-fuck jock - the Chad everyone knew him to be. He took a deep breath as he turned the shower on, washing Jamie’s lithe body, while the cutie lathered up his huge muscles, kissing a few times, before drying each other up.

Jamie grabbed Chad’s phone and blushed as he typed in his number. “Call me, Chad.” The twink’s ass bounced hypnotically as he ran to his locker, got dressed, and headed out. Chad chuckled, cupping his bulge. He left a missed call for Jamie to save his contact, then got dressed in his gym clothes again, his scent barely erased by the shower he just had.

As Chad made his way back to his room, Will bumped into him, a slight blush on his frat-bro face. He looked up into Chad’s empty eyes and dumb grin, and noted them down in his head. “So, gave in to the jock life, Chad?” he asked.

“Dude, it’s soooo chill. No thoughts, just lifting, fucking, sleeping. I mean, I still have some smarts, but like, they’re all workout and nutrition shit, you feel me?” Chad replied, chuckling like the typical himbo he now was, as his fingers ran through his hair.

Will smirked. It worked. Charlie, or Chad now, could finally be his. But not just that, he seemed taller and bigger than ever. He moved closer to the jock he made, and smiled. “I get you, bro. Though, I have a question. You still into chicks?”

Chad let out a boastful laugh. “Nah man, dudes are the only ones who can appreciate all this,” he said as he gestured to his muscular body, his right arm flexed to show off.

“Is that so?” Will asked, flexing his own pecs to show off. “Then, mind if I say, I find you fucking hot, dude,” he whispered, cupping Chad’s bulge sexily. However, shock flooded his face when the jock pushed him off.

“Sorry, dude. I mean, you’re hot and all, but I’m only into cute twinks,” Chad replied with a firm frown, before sauntering off.

Will was confused as fuck. The Jock Bible promised him that anyone he turned into a jock would worship him, become his boyfriend and servant. Maybe that’s because he hadn’t read the footnotes - the fine print stated that whoever the converted jock would fuck first would be his desired lover. That was Jamie the twink. Now, Chad was dumb as a pile of rocks, but clearly, Will was dumber for missing this, and the Jock Bible weaved its magic into his mind, making sure he was dumb enough to forget about its existence and its powers, leaving him powerless and too dumb for college, that he soon dropped out.

And as for Chad? Well, with Jamie as his lover, and with his dopey confidence in life, who wouldn’t want to be like him?

———

Hello, Tumblr! I'm back with a new story after a long while - this one's a commission I'd been working on for some time now, though life had thrown me a few obstacles in getting it finished. Hope y'all enjoy this one!

If you're interested in commissioning a story from me, see my post on commissions here! If you can't or don't want to commission any stories, you can also tip me over on ko-fi.

#male tf #nerd to jock #jock tf #jockification #jock bible #straight to gay #reality change #unintended consequences #commission

369 notes · View notes