#obsessed with how he looks with a crooked nose actually

[rhettabbotts]

baby, if you only knew - dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

pairing: dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

summary: tensions boil over and everything changes for you and rhett one night at a rancher’s event you attend.

w/c: 5.4k (she’s a mammoth)

warnings: 18+ only. smut. age gap (babysitter 20s, rhett 40s). dirty talk. making out in an elevator. daddy kink. possessive rhett. slightly rough sex. cunnilingus. hair pulling. overstimulation. size kink. aftercare. rhett’s grey hair. some fluff.

a/n: i can see you by taylor swift is to blame for this. enjoy the filth! also couldn’t stop myself from adding some babysitter lore. also see green, green dress from tick, tick…boom! for the dress reference!

Six months. Six long, tortuous months of working under Rhett Abbott’s roof.

Okay, it wasn’t as bad as you were making it out to be in your head. His daughters were angels, and you appreciated that he worked with your school schedule as you attended your graduate program. And he let you live in his guest room rent free.

But it was sweet torture. You had fallen hard for the single father of two and it made every day even harder than the last. Rhett was a wonderful man, an attentive father, and a hell of a cook. A hard worker and he was so handsome, you could hardly breathe around him. Who wouldn’t fall in love with the cowboy?

You tried everything in the world to rid your thoughts of him, but you were highly unsuccessful. And he only did things that made it worse. Every time you brushed by him in the halls it felt like electricity coursed through your entire body. He had to feel it too, right?

Delusional. That’s what you were. You were the babysitter. Nothing more. Eventually, the girls would grow up and you wouldn’t be needed anymore. And that thought caused your chest to tighten painfully.

What a thought to have while washing the dishes. You heard your name but it sounded far off, like your ears were full of cotton.

“Tilly, come quick!” Grace shouted once more to get your attention. It made you turn abruptly, soap suds went flying as you dropped the ceramic pot you were washing. “Sorry,” she mumbled when you glared slightly at her.

“What’s wrong, Gracie?” you questioned as you wiped your hands off with the flower embroidered kitchen towel. Something you bought and put out to leave your own touch on this place.

“Oh. Nothing. Ellie just wanted to show you that we won our game.” The girls had been obsessed with Super Mario Brothers and had been playing it for days.

“That’s great guys! How about we take a break and you help me get dinner started?”

“Can we have ice cream for dessert?” Ellie, Rhett’s younger daughter pouted, bright blue eyes pleading. She and Grace were the carbon copies of Rhett. Same eyes, same nose, same crooked smile. You could never say no to them.

“Of course. But don’t tell your dad,” you whispered, placing your finger to your lips like it was a top secret.

The girls helped you finish the food just as Rhett came in from another long day of herding and branding cattle. He was dusty, covered in dirt and sweat and tendrils of his hair stuck to his forehead, the ends curling up. You wanted to run your fingers through it, sweat be damned.

“Daddy!” “Daddy, look at what we made!”

The girls ran towards Rhett, pausing when they got close enough to smell him.

“You stink,” Grace commented flatly.

“Thanks. Love you too. Listen, I’m gonna go shower and I’ll be down in a bit. You all can start without me,” Rhett said as he kicked his boots off by the door and took the stairs two at a time. “Oh, and Tilly?” He called from the upstairs landing.

“Yeah?”

“I gotta ask you something later. Don’t let me forget.”

You just nodded, stomach turning at the thought of what it could be.

Grace and Ellie helped you set the table, always eager to follow your every move. It makes you smile. Sometimes you felt like an actual family. And then you had to bring yourself back to reality. Just the nanny. Nothing more. Dinner was quiet, everyone was hungry and occupied with getting their bellies full.

You were resting on the couch as Rhett finished bath and bed time with the girls, trying to read your latest book but your mind was going a thousand miles a minute. Your heart started to beat faster as you heard Rhett descend down the stairs.

Rhett took himself to the kitchen, busying himself by pouring a glass of whiskey. A bottle you bought for him for Christmas the year prior. You peeked at him over the top of your book, watching his back muscles flex in the tight black tee he wore. Your mouth watered at the sight of his strong arms and his soft stomach as he turned to face you.

You quickly raised the book above your eyes, fearing that you had been caught staring. You missed Rhett’s knowing smirk.

“Move over,” Rhett poked at the bottom of your foot, the motion tickling you ever so slightly and causing you to jerk your leg towards you. “What are you reading? New dirty novel?” He teased.

“No…” you said quietly, a little shamefully.

“Liar. Is this one better than the last at least?”

“So far. Hey, what did you want to ask me earlier?” You stretched your legs back out and they landed in Rhett’s lap. He didn’t seem to mind. His unoccupied hand landed on your shin, calloused thumb lightly brushing the bone there. Your mind went blank and you could hear nothing but static in your ears.

“I got invited to this rancher’s event. They want me to give a speech. Stupid, but I agreed. And I… I need a plus one. And I figured maybe if you wanted to-“

“Yes!” You said eagerly, spine straightening. “I mean- sorry- go ahead…” Your cheeks felt hot at your abruptness. He was probably going to ask you to set him up with someone. Probably Lisa, Ellie’s dance teacher. She always had her eye on him.

“I wanted to ask if you wanted to come with me. Give you a break. It’s the weekend my parents wanted to take the girls camping. That is.. if you didn’t have any plans…”

Rhett sounded nervous. He was looking down at where his hand rested on your leg, avoiding all eye contact.

“Oh. Yeah. I don’t have anything going on. I’ll go with you. As-“

“Friends, of course.”

“Right. Friends. What’s the dress code?” You asked, heart sinking slightly.

“Black tie,” Rhett grumbled. He hated dressing up. If he can’t wear flannel, he doesn’t want to be there.

“Perfect. I’ll find a dress to wear.”

“Well. I’ll leave you to the reading. Goodnight, Tilly.” Rhett tapped your leg a couple of times before moving you so he could stand.

You sighed deeply as he left the room, trying to ignore the gut wrenching feeling you had at his response. You couldn’t focus on your book and you eventually went upstairs to attempt to sleep.

“I want you so bad,” Rhett growled against your neck, teeth sinking into your skin causing you to whimper and arch against him. His leg was in between yours, keeping your thighs separated and your barely covered cunt brush against his suit pants. “You’re fucking soaked, sweet girl. You’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you?”

“Rhett, please!” You whined pathetically, grinding down on his thigh, searching for any sort of relief.

“Beg for it, baby. Beg for daddy. Tell me what you want.” Rhett said, voice low and gravelly. He pressed you into the wall harder, flexing his thigh as you keened. “I know you want me to fu-“

“Tillyyyyyy, wake uppppp,” a tiny voice called from the other side of the door. Your eyes shot open so fast it made your head spin. Your entire body was hot even though you just had the sheet covering you and the ceiling fan was on. You were having a dream about Rhett. A fucking wet dream. And now Ellie was yelling at you in the hallway. You felt like you were being punished.

You checked your phone. 5:37am. Jesus, why was she awake?

“I’m up, El. Hold your horses.” You went to the en-suite bathroom to splash cold water on your face. “Get yourself together. Now,” you said through gritted teeth, pointing a finger at yourself in the mirror.

The four-year-old stood outside your door with her stuffed horse tucked under her arms. Her eyes were a little red and she was sniffling.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I feel sick,” she whispered weakly, clutching the horse to her chest tighter.

“Come on, bug. I’ll get you some medicine.”

You picked her up and perched her on your hip as you carried her down the stairs. Her forehead felt a little warm. She sat patiently on the counter while you poured the medicine in the little cup and you rubbed her back as she swallowed it.

“Good job, El! I’m proud of you. Here, drink some water and let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

She nodded as she took a big gulp of water from her sippy cup. You trotted back up the stairs, bouncing her slightly to make her giggle.

“Alright, you got your water here and Honey is right here with you. Try to get some sleep, bug. I’ll fix pancakes when you wake up.” You tucked Ellie in, kissing her forehead before you stood up.

Her eyes were already heavy and she mumbled something you couldn’t hear.

“What was that?”

“Luh you, mama.” She repeated sleepily, snuggling her horse and then started snoring softly immediately.

“Oh… I- I love you too, bug.”

You didn’t know how to react. She had never called you that before and it made your eyes misty with tears. You couldn’t go back to sleep. Not after the dream and not after Ellie calling you mama.

The next few hours went by in a blur. You had planned to go shopping with your friend Tabitha to find your dress for the dinner. After dropping the girls off at school, you met Tabitha at the mall. You were in a daze, barely listening to her rant about her latest failed Tinder date.

“Hellooooo,” she snapped her fingers in front of your face. “Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, sorry. No, I’m just- I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sighed as you placed your face in your hands.

“What do you mean?”

“With Rhett! It’s like- why am I going to this dinner? Why do I keep torturing myself? And Ellie! She called me her mom this morning! I want a family and I feel like I have it but it’s not really mine, you know?”

“You need to get laid. That’s what you need,” Tabitha said nonchalantly. She looked through the dresses on the rack in the store you were in. “Oh. My. God. This. This dress. Go try it on. NOW!”

She shoved a velvet dress into your arms and pushed you towards the fitting rooms. It was a deep green color, the fabric felt soft against your skin. It wasn’t a dress you would pick out for yourself but once you slid it over your head your jaw dropped at the sight in the mirror.

The bodice was a corset type, something you didn’t typically reach for but was pleasantly surprised at how it looked on you. The dress was form fitting but not uncomfortably so. The strap tied around your neck, lifting your chest and displaying the tops of your breasts tastefully.

The dress hugged your every curve, accentuating parts of your body you weren’t necessarily happy with, but now you felt sexy. Powerful. You opened the door and called for Tabitha. She came running with a few other options in her hands but her reaction matched your own as she laid eyes on you.

“Holy fuck. Yeah, no, forget these. You have to get that one. If he doesn’t fuck you, I will.”

You rolled her eyes at her antics and looked into the mirror once more. You felt so beautiful in the dress. It made you a little giddy at the thought of Rhett’s reaction. If he even had one. You tried to shake the negative thought away. If he didn’t appreciate it, someone else would. Maybe a nice cowboy who’d be down for a one night stand at a fancy hotel.

The week passed by in the blink of an eye and before you knew it, Rhett was packing the girls’ bags for their camping trip and was shouting up at you that he was going to pick up his suit in town from the tailor’s.

You took your time styling your hair the way you liked and you did your makeup, keeping it light but putting on a red lip. Just to be a little bold.

You hid in your room until you heard Rhett finish getting ready and head down the stairs.

“Tilly, you ready? We should leave so-“ Rhett stopped as he turned at the sound of your heels clicking against the wood. “Wow…” he breathed. “You look, ehem, you look nice. That’s a pretty dress.” He fiddled with his cuff links, avoiding eye contact.

“Thank you,” you responded shyly. He held his arm out to escort you to the black pickup truck. The ride was silent except for the radio and the hum of the engine. You couldn’t stop from looking to Rhett. His hair was slicked back, the gray hair looked more prominent. His temples were nearly white. He had a shadow of stubble on his jaw and his suit fit him in all the right places.

You pulled up to a beautiful hotel. It was a grand building, accents of gold sparkled in the setting sun and gorgeous flowers lined the walkways. Rows of trucks indicated that you were at the right place. And the men in bolo ties and cowboy hats gave it away.

Rhett forwent his Stetson and chose a sleek black tie, looking a little out of place but you thought he looked beautiful.

He parked and inhaled deeply, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and closing his eyes.

“Everything okay?” You questioned, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his forearm.

“Huh? Yeah. M’good. Just nervous. I can’t stand half the people in that room,” he mumbled, smiling softly at you. It made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“You’ll do great. I can fake an emergency if needed.”

“Fall down the stairs if I give you a look,” Rhett joked.

“You got it, boss,” you winked at him. You reached for the door handle, preparing to get out of the truck but his hand on your arm now stopped you.

“Wait… I have something for you. A token of appreciation for coming with me. Also, an early birthday present.”

Rhett pulled a long, rectangular box from the side of the door. He opened it to show a diamond bracelet.

“Rhett- that’s- I can’t-“ You couldn’t stop from reaching out and running your fingers along the jewels.

“You deserve it. You work so hard and I don’t say it enough but you mean a lot to me. To the girls. Just wanted to give you something nice,” he said, voice a little shaky.

Something shifted as he clasped the bracelet around your wrist. His touch lingered on your skin and it was hard for you to breathe. You tried so hard to keep things professional, but it’s changed. Everything has changed in the cab of Rhett’s truck.

You headed inside, arm linked with Rhett’s as he greeted the people inside. He was so charismatic, putting on a face you’d never seen before. It was sexy. He was controlling the room. Everyone loved him.

You could feel eyes following you as you walked towards the front of the ballroom. You heard a few whispers from the older women, surely gossiping about the obvious age gap between you and your employer.

“I’m gonna grab some drinks. You gonna be okay here?” Rhett whispered in your ear, his warm breath washing over your skin and sending a chill down your spine.

“I’ll be good. Can you get me a Long Island?”

“Of course. Be right back.” He hurried off towards the bar, getting stopped several times along the way. You felt like a fish out of water here. You chewed on your thumb nail, anxiously waiting for Rhett to come back.

“I think you’re the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen,” a voice said from behind you. You turned to see the chair to your right being pulled away and a young man, around your age, sat down beside you. His black cowboy hat hid his eyes but he had a wide smirk on his face.

“I bet you’ve said that at least ten times tonight,” you responded, trying to ignore him.

“Name’s Wes. And you are-“

“Not interested. Beat it, buddy,” Rhett growled as he sat your drinks down and sat on the other side of you, wrapping his arm around the back of your chair possessively.

“I see how it is. Rhett… good to see you.”

Rhett hummed as he glared at Wes over the rim of his glass, silently willing him to scram. It was hot.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“He’s trouble,” Rhett mumbled.

The evening went on without a hitch. Dinner was decent and you joined in on a few conversations. Rhett’s speech was wonderful and informative about the cattle business. He looked good on stage but you knew he was nervous. He made his way back to you, smiling slightly.

“Come dance with me, honey,” he spoke lowly.

“Let me go freshen up a bit,” you squeaked, rushing to the bathroom. Your nerves were getting the best of you. It was just a dance. A quick dance and you’d be heading home. Nothing more.

You made your way back to the ballroom, catching Rhett’s eyes and you trembled slightly at the heat that formed there. A slow song started just as you made your way to the dance floor.

His large hand engulfed yours as his other splayed on the low of your back. You could smell his cologne as he pulled you close to him. You felt a piece of paper in your right palm as Rhett swayed the two of you around.

“What’s that?”

“You can read it when we’re done dancin’,” Rhett drawled, looking down at you. Even with you in heels, his frame still towered over you.

The song ended too quickly for your liking and Rhett was called over to a table filled with older gentlemen, leaving you standing in the middle of the floor. The crumpled napkin had been left in your hand and you spread it out to read the note.

Meet me at the staircase by the piano - R

You gasped slightly and looked around, meeting Rhett’s eyes as he chatted with the group he was with. He was expressionless but there was a fire in his eyes again. One that made your body react and you tried not to squeeze your thighs together in front of everyone there. You made your way back to your table to drink the rest of your drink, a little liquid courage, before you made your way to the staircase.

You stood there for what felt like ages but in reality was only a few minutes. You bounced on your feet, nerves building every second that passed.

“Hey, you,” Rhett’s voice called from behind you, approaching you with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” you responded, feeling awkward.

Rhett pulled a key from his pocket. A hotel room key. Room 475 engraved in the key tag.

“You can say no. You can tell me to fuck off. You can quit-“

“Yes,” the answer came without a beat.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his thin lips.

“You have no idea how bad I want you, Rhett,” you confessed, breathless.

Rhett let out a desperate noise as he reached for you and crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head. You moaned wantonly as his tongue expertly licked into your mouth. You should go upstairs, should stop before anyone sees you.

“Rhett, we should- we need to-“

“Yeah… Yeah.”

His hand linked with yours as he pulled you to the elevator, not wasting time pushing you inside and against the wall, the railing digging into your lower spine a bit uncomfortably. His lips reconnected with yours, a low grunt escaping his throat.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered, lips barely leaving yours. Hands explored your body, gripping at your soft hips and thighs, circling around to grab handfuls of your ass. The touch caused you to arch your body towards his, back bowing as he traveled higher and started palming your breast.

“I’ve thought about this - thought about you - for longer than I’d like to admit,” Rhett spoke, deep voice rattling in his chest. “Makes me feel like a dirty old man.”

You just whined pathetically, gripping at his lapels to anchor yourself. You were about to grind against the thigh that had pushed its way between your thighs but the high pitched ding of the elevator caused you to jump apart. Moving so fast, you would have thought you had been electrocuted.

A little old lady walked into the elevator, not missing the way you and Rhett looked disheveled. It was blatantly obvious what you were just doing. Rhett cracked a smile at her, nodding his head in her direction. Your chest was still heaving and your knees felt shaky.

She only went up two floors, a quick ride that felt like an eternity. Rhett’s pinky brushed against your hand where it rested on the rail, the small touch sending shocks through you.

“Have a nice evenin, ma’am,” Rhett said sickeningly sweet and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh at the look she threw his way as she exited the lift.

Your stop was next and nerves bubbled in your stomach at what was about to happen.

Silence surrounded you and Rhett now as you walked to the room. Not a word was spoken as he unlocked the door and made his way inside. You stood in the middle of the room awkwardly, wringing your hands together as you looked toward the wooden floor.

Rhett tossed his jacket haphazardly onto the floor, approaching you slowly. Giving you the chance to run. It reminded you of a lion stalking a gazelle before it pounced. His calloused hands rubbed the length of your arms before his touch brushed the side of your neck, eventually cupping your face. A rough thumb caressed your cheekbone.

“Darlin’, look at me. Please,” Rhett spoke quietly, as if not to scare you. You continued to look down, which caused him to pinch your chin and lift your gaze to him. “Are you sure about this? We can- we don’t have to-“

“No. No, I want to. I have for a while. A long, long while.”

“Good,” he said, coming out an octave lower and his eyes landed on your red covered lips. His thumb ran across the pout of your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. “I want to devour you.”

A shaky breath escaped you before you wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking softly on the digit.

“Fuck,” he moaned.

You stood there for a moment, his thumb in your mouth and your eyes locked on each other. It made tensions rise tenfold. You pulled away with a ‘pop’, a trail of saliva following in its wake.

Impatience got the best of you as you started clawing at his tie and shirt buttons, nearly sending them flying through the room. Rhett chuckled at your huffy breaths of frustration as you yanked on his clothing. You threw the tie behind you, his shirt was shoved off his shoulder and into the chair next to the door. His belt made a loud clink as it hit the window.

“Easy, girl. Don’t destroy the room. Or my clothes,” Rhett teased, stopping your hasty movements. You finally took the chance to pause and look at the man standing before you. Hairy chest on full display. The dark hair traveled down in a continuous line all the way down to the waist of his pants. His soft stomach and love handles made your mouth water.

“You’re so- fuck, Rhett. You’re so sexy,” you said.

“My turn.” He untied the neck of your dress slowly, taking his time pulling the bow loose. He turned you so your back was to him, unzipping you unhurriedly. You let the dress fall to your feet as you turned to face him again, leaving you in your lingerie and high heels.

“My god. Look at you.” Rhett took in the sight of you. Black lace left little to the imagination.

Things moved in a blur after that. You nearly tripped over your own feet as you tried to remove the heels and he almost ripped your bra as he unclasped it with one hand. He tossed it aside and you tried not to giggle as it landed on the lampshade of the lamp that sat on the bedside table.

The edge of the bed knocked against the back of your knees as he pushed you softly so you landed on your back, bouncing on the mattress slightly. He stood between your spread thighs, undoing the button of his slack and pushing them down, revealing the tight black boxers he wore underneath.

You let out a quiet whine as your eyes traveled down his torso and stopping at the large bulge that was confined by the cotton. Even in the low lighting, you could see a small wet spot from the precum.

Large hands massaged your inner thighs as he spread them apart even farther, causing a slight burn in your muscles. He groaned at the sight of your barely clothed cunt. Rhett fell to his knees swiftly and delved into you without warning. Expert licks moved against your wetness through the thin lace, which had been quickly ripped away. His nose bumped against your bundle of nerves as his tongue explored your folds.

His long fingers soon joined his ministrations, finding that spongy spot inside of you in a matter of seconds. You’d question how he did that later. As of now, you tried to control your shaking limbs as he pushed you higher and higher towards your peak. Scratchy stubble rubbed against you, causing a delicious burn.

He stuck true to his word and devoured you, not leaving one part of you undiscovered.

Rhett’s lips wrapped around your clit and started sucking softly, tongue flicking against the bud. You trembled beneath him and your back bowed off the mattress, bucking against his mouth. A strong arm slung itself over your middle, keeping you pinned to the bed.

Your hands gripped his locks tightly, tugging hard when his tongue sped up.

“Rhett. Oh, Rhett. Fuck. Daddy!” It didn’t take much for your moans to become near screams and for galaxies to explode behind your eyelids as you came against Rhett’s face. Your body was jerking involuntarily as you traveled down from your high. Rhett placed feather light kisses against you before pulling away, hair sticking up in places and his face covered in your release.

He traveled up your body and kissed you soundly, the tangy taste of your desire mixing with something so Rhett made you both moan into each other’s mouths.

“Lay back, sweetheart. Gonna take care of you,” Rhett said quietly. You made yourself comfortable against the soft pillows as Rhett stretched you in preparation for his cock. “Damn pillow princess,” he joked. It made you smile.

He had three thick fingers inside of you before you stopped him.

“Stop! Please! I- I wanna come with you inside me,” you pleaded, gripping his wrist. He nodded and pulled his fingers out fleetingly.

You blindly shoved at his boxers and he clumsily kicked them off the end of the bed, his hard cock slapping against his lower stomach. Fuck, he was big.

Rhett pulled back and sat on his knees, gripping the base of his dick and placing it on your stomach.

“Look, baby. You think you can take me? Think you can handle daddy’s cock?”

“Please! Please, fuck me. Need it. Need you. Please!” You begged, lifting your hips and causing the leaking head to brush against your already sensitive clit. You simultaneously let out a loud moan. He rubbed himself through your folds, teasing you and him both.

“Wait, hold on.” Rhett pulled away and searched for his trousers, pulling his wallet out and rummaging through it. He pulled out a foil wrapper and ripped it with his teeth. You had never seen anything sexier.

“Can I do it?” You asked shyly, propping yourself up on your elbows. He handed the condom to you and kept eye contact as you rolled the latex down his length carefully. He was heavy in your hand.

You laid back once more, a trembling breath escaping your mouth as he lined up with your entrance. Even with his prepping, it was still a stretch. The slight burn caused you to hiss and dig your nails into his biceps. He took a break between each inch, time passing slowly as he made small thrusts. He eventually bottomed out, a broken moan coming from his chest as you squeezed around his length.

You stayed like that for a moment, both breathing heavily as his forearms caged you in.

“Daddy. Move. Please,” you whined, fingers moving tangle in the curls at the base of his neck. He slowly pulled out, nearly all the way, before thrusting back into you, the girth and length of him touching places you’d never been able to reach before. It started slow, he was allowing you to get accustomed to him.

However, it didn’t take long before his thrusts became a little rougher. His hands now were placed a the top of your head as he put his body weight into his movements, grunts escaping him with each pass, your high pitched breaths matching him.

“So tight. Taking me so well. Like you were fucking made for it. Made for me. All mine, all mine,” Rhett rambled. The headboard started to smack against the wall slightly as he pounded into you. You couldn’t breathe. You were approaching a feeling you had never felt before. Your brain was becoming fuzzy and your ears were beginning to ring.

“Da-daddy. M’gonna- I’m almost there,” you squealed as a particularly harsh thrust hit your g-spot.

“C’mon, sweet baby. Come for daddy,” his deft fingers started rubbing your swollen clit in tight circles and you let out a scream as your release washed over you. Rhett continued fucking into you until he pushed deep inside you and threw his head back towards the ceiling, filling the condom with his own release.

He collapsed on top of you, full body weight covering you like a blanket. You felt like were floating. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed against Rhett’s back, his skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. You stayed silent for a while, both trying to catch your breaths as you came down. He eventually pulled out of you slowly, causing you to wince. He discarded the condom and went to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth and a glass of water.

You were quiet as he took care of you, smiling softly as he pulled you to sit up and take a few sips of water. You had never been cared for like this after sex. It made your chest constrict. You moved under the covers and waited for Rhett to follow suit. He immediately pressed his warm body against your own, pulling you tight to his chest.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you said with a slight giggle.

“I can’t believe it took us this long,” Rhett retorted, fingers dancing along your spine.

You both laughed a little before it fell silent once again.

“Rhett?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“What does this make us?” You asked as you ran your fingers through the thick chest hair.

“Well… I think this means you’ll be sleeping in my bed when we get home. But don’t call HR on me.”

“You are HR, Rhett. Seriously, though. Are we like-“

“I want you to be my girl. I have spent the past several months falling in love with you. And I know it’s soon, but damn it, darlin’. You’ve stolen my heart,” Rhett confessed, his words causing your eyes to well with tears.

“Rhett… I- I love you, too.”

“The girls are going to be excited. They’ve been begging me to ask you to be my girlfriend since you moved in.”

“They’re trouble, I swear,” you laughed, snuggling closer to your man.

“They’re the reason I have all of this gray hair.”

“Yeah, but it’s hot. Very… very… very hot,” you responded, emphasizing the T. You giggled as he rolled over on top of you and started kissing against your neck playfully.

You kissed each other softly in the dark until you fell asleep holding each other tight. And when the sun rose in the morning, a new beginning would be awaiting you.

tagging those who may be interested:

@ryebecca @whisperofsong @floydsmuse @laracrofted @lewmagoo @withahappyrefrain @hangmanapologist @sebsxphia @bobfloydsbabe @callsign-magnolia @attapullman

[all444miles]

can you do miles with and earthy black girl! Like I can see him wanting her nose rings, and accessories but don’t get me started on how he SIMPS for her waist beads. He loves seeing her at school with her hair wrap and locs and her lavender and coco sent, she’s a calm person to!

thank you so much for your AMAZING work God bless❤️❤️❤️❤️

— DOWN TO EARTH

— pairing: both miles' x black!earthy!fem!reader — genre: fluff — summary: what its like for both miles' to date an earthy girl ‹3 — a/n: quick note, the reader calls 1610 miles "bambi" as a nickname becuase he reminds her of a baby deer ‹3 (credits to my pookie for that !!) — a/n 2: I didn't know which miles you meant, so i just did both 😭 also pretend that brooklyn visions academy doesnt have a uniform.. i was tired writing this so im rlly rlly RLLLY sorry if this is bad but, i hope you like this, and enjoy !! ‹3

E-42 MILES

Miles loves being in your room. the smell of burning coconut incense, the look of your fairy lights, the small plants, it felt so chill, so peaceful. he liked that.

he always knows which incense you've used, and will pick up if you've changed them. He'll buy you some if you need any more.

"You got rid of the coconut incense? Mami, that one was my favorite." "Baby, I only have one pack left." "Oh? Aight, i'll buy you some tomorrow."

he'll never tell you, but if he misses you, he'll listen to your favorite songs that you'd always hum to yourself when you two are alone.

does he like Erykah Badu? Yes, yes he does. he'll listen to Green Eyes on his missions with his uncle whenever he gets the chance.

his uncle caught him once; one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.

"Kid, you listenin' Erykah Badu? Ian know you into allat." "Yo chill, it's only cuz my girl like her." "Mhm. You sure you my nephew or am I trippin?" "Tio, let's just roll."

he's loves to cuddle with you, especially cause you always smell like lavender. he won't let you go either.

"Miles, I gotta get some food." "Nuh, in a minute." "Hun, you done said that 2 minutes ago." "Exactly, in a minute. I like being here."

absolutely in love with your waist beads. he loves the jewllery you were (you both have matching necklaces), but your waist beads? goes absolutely crazy whenever you wearing a crop top and you have them on.

one time you two were at a beach and you wore them with your bikini, he might as well have fell in love with you all over again. bro has his hands on your waist the whoooleee time.

"Princesa, never take off your waist beads." "Why? You like 'em?" "¿Gustarme? Chica, Dios mío, estoy enamorada de ellos." (Like them? Girl, my god, i'm in love with them.) "Miles!" "What? I'm just appreciating my queen n her style, ion see no problem."

E-1610 MILES

Miles is obsessed, like, obsessed, with your style.

if you two live close, he'll style your locs and do your head wrap for you before school.

if not, he'll come to school excited to see your ootd. that is, as if you don't send them to him everyday before school.

"You look gorgeous in your outfit, amor." "Thank you Miles. You do know i already showed you it before school, right?" "So? It's always better to see my wife's outfits in person." "Bambi, you so corny."

he draws you, all the time. look through his sketchbook and you'll find drawings of his friends from the spider society, his uncle, and thousands of you.

Instead of doing what his twin does, when he misses you, he'll draw you. He misses you a lot.

"Baby, can I see your sketchbook?" "..Uhm, yeah! Sure." "You draw me? Awwe, that's so cute."

he loves how calm you are, he actually thinks of you as an angel the way you're so peaceful.

he thinks your nose rings are so gorgeous. if you let him pick which nose ring, he'll be so honored.

adores the fact you smell like lavender. he'll always lay his head into the crook of your neck because he loves your scent sm.

like his counterpart, he's so fascinated to your waist beads. like, he just thinks you look so beautiful with em. One time, you put his hands on your waist, he honestly didn't know what to do with himself.

"Mami, did you know I love your waist beads?" "Yes, bambi, i know." "Nah, but I loooovvveeeee them!" "Baby, i know!" "Like, I looooooooooooovvvvvvvveeeeee them!" "Love, please."

© all444miles 2023. do not plagerize, copy, or repost my work in any way shape or form, without my permission.

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

[mattsmommy69]

✨Better version✨

Summary: Chris’s ex turns to Matt after she’s left heart broken and it takes a turn for the better

Warnings: sub!dom Matt, fem!reader, cussing, smut, thigh riding, fingering, o in v, jealousy,marking,squirting, dirty talk( lmk if I missed anything)

Notes: this is my first writing I really hope you guys like it and this has been an idea of mine for a while! Don’t steal my work!!

I look at my phone to see Matt calling me once again. It had been only a day since mine and Chris’s break up and Matt has been blowing up my phone ever since.

Me and Chris’s relationship lasted about 5 months before the relationship inevitably came to an end due to the fact that Chris had been acting like a child and wasn’t ready to be an actual boyfriend that could fur-fill my needs. He had always been afraid of committing to a relationship so this honestly didn’t surprise me but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt.

I picked up the phone to hear Matt let out a sigh of relive. “ Hey, how are you feeling?” Matt states, I can hear the nervousness in his voice. “ I’m fine really. You don’t have to keep checking in on me Matty.” I say with a light teasing in my tone. “ Well too bad because I’m pulling up to your house right now with a Carmel milkshake and mozzarella sticks.” (My fav) “What did I do to deserve you?” I say with a bright smile on my face. “Idk but I’m about five minutes away so I will see you in a sec.” He states and I hear the phone hang up.

Matt and me have always had a strange relationship. When we first met in middle school I knew we were gonna be friends but I didn’t know I was gonna be attached at the hip with him for the rest of my life. Me and Matt had been inseparable since the day we met. We did everything together, we even had our first kiss together (which was really embarrassing to think about). Me and Matt had been so close that me and his family had just naturally also become close which led me to dating Chris. When me and Chris started dating Matt was not a fan at all but of course him being his polite self didn’t say anything and just wanted us to be happy.

The truth was that me and Chris never truly were happy. I liked Chris but never really loved him and if I’m being honest, I think I was trying to turn him into Matt. I always deep down liked Matt but no one knew and no one ever would. I had no clue if he would even talk to me again if he knew my true feeling for him and I just couldn’t risk it.

I hear a knock at my door and quickly get up to go get it knowing who I’m going to be met with. I open the door to see Matt in a black wife beater and a pair of grey sweats with the food in his hands smiling at me. “Come in” I say with a big smile in my face. Matt immediately comes in and places the bag of food on the table and then turns around to hug me. “ I’ve missed you squirt.” That nickname was gonna be the death of me. He can up with it when we were kids and I was drinking a glass of milk and he made me laugh so hard the milk squirted out of my nose. He found it hilarious, I found it disgusting. “ I missed you too Matty” I feel so close to him in the hug yet not close enough. I take a deep breath in through my nose to be met with the scent of his cologne that I was a little too obsessed with. His arms wrap around my waist and mine around his neck. His head is lying in the crook of my neck as mine lays against his chest. I could stay here forever if allowed. He lifts his head up and begins to look at my face with his beautiful blue eyes. I look back making eye contact with him as we’re still in each others arms. “I knew you missed me but not this much damn” I say with a smirk on my face. “How could I not miss my girl.” As he says this my cheeks go tomato red. “Someone’s easily flustered.” Matt makes fun of me. “Shut up!” I say slapping his chest lightly and putting my hands over my face in embarrassment. “Don’t hide from me squirt, I like seeing how flustered I can make you just with my words.” At that my hands go down from my face and I look up to see him already staring down at me. My heart is about to beat out of its chest but before it does he breaks the silence.

“I wonder what else I could do to make you even more flustered” At this statement my eyes go wide and Matt chuckles at my reaction. I start to tear my gaze away from his face in embarrassment and look at the ground but Matt’s hand goes to my chin lifting my head up. “ Don’t be shy squirt it’s just me” I look back up at him and finally I give in and kiss him. At first he’s surprised by the sudden action but then he immediately sinks deeper into the kiss and groans into my mouth. His hands that were still wrapped around me from our hug starts to go lower and cup my ass making me moan into the kiss. This makes Matt insert his tongue into my mouth and I gladly comply. He suddenly lifts me up by my legs and I take the hint and wrap my legs around his torso all while still messily making out.

When he picks me up he immediately heads toward the coach and sits down on it, me sitting on top of him with my legs still wrapped around his waist. We continue making out and I start to move my hips back and forth on top of his thigh. He notices this and pulls away from my lips breathing heavily. “What a slut trying to ride my thigh huh?” He looks at me with lust filled eyes. “I’m sorry Matty” I say looking down at the couch. Matt brings my face to look at him with his hand gripping my chin “ I didn’t say I didn’t like it, be a good girl and strip for daddy and then get back on my thigh and get yourself off like the little slut you are.” I turn pink at his words. I never knew Matt could be this dominant and sexy but I was loving every second of it. I get up off his lap and stand up in front of him slowly taking my clothes off as he instructed me to.

Matt’s gaze stays fully focused on me as I strip for him. I start by taking my shorts off leaving me in my black lace thong that Matt can’t seem to look away from. Than I take me shirt off leaving me in a matching black lace bra that has Matt’s jaw on the floor. I go to sit back down on Matt’s lap before he stop me. “Unless you want me to make you come so many times you can’t see than I recommend you also take of the bra and underwear.” I do as I’m told taking both off as fast as possible and making my way back to his thigh. “You’re so pretty ma.” I sit fully back onto his thigh and start grinding my hips again immediately feeling the pleasure take over. As good as this felt tho I needed Matt inside of me.

“Mattyyy” I say almost in a whining tone. “ What is it baby?” He says while kissing down my neck. “I need you inside of me please!” I almost scream out while still riding his thigh. “Idk ma, idk if you deserve to come around my dick after being such a slut. Wanting to fuck me right after you and my brother break up? Suck a fucking whore.” I keep riding his thigh. “You’re mine. Only mine. Do you understand that squirt?” I moan at his dirty words as I’m still desperately trying to get off on his thigh. “Yes Matt I’m yours I was always yours! Fuck daddy please just fuck me!” At my words he takes his shirt off and kisses my neck harsher than before leaving a mark. Matt flips me over on the couch onto my back and starts pulling his sweatpants and boxers down. Before I knew it he was rubbing his tip up and down me to tease me even more. I get in my elbows to look down to be meet with the biggest dick I have ever seen. “You like what you see squirt?” I let out a moan as he pushes two fingers inside me pumping in and out at a fast pace. “Gotta stretch you out first ma” I moan at this and lift my hips up due to the pleasure. Matt immediately pulls his fingers out and uses his arms to slam my hips back on the couch.

Before I can complain Matt pushes himself inside me fully and I let out a moan that sounds like it’s straight from porn. He gives me a few seconds to adjust before slamming into me with no mercy at a rate I couldn’t even comprehend. “Matty!” I squeal as I’m being absolutely destroyed by Matt’s cock. “What’s wrong baby? Just a few seconds ago you were begging for daddy’s cock and now it’s to much for you huh? Such a slut.” I just moan at his words not even being able to form a sentence at this point. He continues relentlessly slamming into me and starts to rub circles around my clit. “Mhm fuck I’m gonna cum daddy!” I scream out as I feel my legs start to shake. “That’s right ma, come all over daddy’s cock. I bet I’m fucking you way better than Chris ever right baby?” I nod at his question as a long string of moans come from my mouth. “Use your words or I’m not gonna let you come ma.” I furrow my eyebrows at this trying my best to answer his question. “Fuck yes Matt! You fuck me so much better than he ever did! I’m yours Matty, fuck!” I let out a scream as I’m trying my hardest to not come right now. “Come with my ma.” And as soon as he finishes his sentence I’m squirting all over his stomach as the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had washes over me. Matt pulls out and strokes himself a few times before painting my stomach with his cum. Once he comes down from his high he looks down at me a presses a kiss to my nose before picking me up bridal style and taking me to the bathroom.

“The nickname squirt fits you even better now. You ever squirt like that before?” I nod my head at his question looking down as he sets me on the toilet to pee. “That’s the first time I’ve done that. I’m sorry.” I say still looking at the ground. While I’m peeing Matt starts the shower for us to get cleaned up in. “Never ever apologize to me for doing that. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’m glad I’m the first to make you do it. I love you squirt.” I look up at him with tears in my eyes and I stand up almost falling but him helping me stand. “I love you more Matty.”

Notes: do not steal my work!! ughhh I hope you guys like this! I worked so hard on it 😭 plz be nice this is my first fic and any feedback is appreciated!

[g1rld1ary]

hi baby !! 🧡

im sick rn and ive looked alllllll over and i couldnt find anything could you write a sickfic for luke from jatp where the female!reader gets sick ? reader is his girl 😽

im doing the same prompt on my blog because im so obsessed with the idea of sickfics and im such a luke girl

so you probably wont have much trouble figuring out who sent you this later if you look it up LMFAO 😍😍

pshsshssh thank you !! 🌼🌼

sick days ; luke patterson x fem!reader

➻ synopsis: you're not feeling well, but luke is here to look after you

➻ word count: 1905

➻ content: established relationship, implied aged up to early 20ish, pet names (love, baby, my girl), tooth rotting fluff

➻ obsessed with this request!!! i've never written a sickfic before so hope this is ok!! hope ur feeling better lovey xxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Your body ached. That was the only thing you could feel. Actually, that was incorrect; you also had a headache and a snotty nose and you were pretty sure your temperature could boil water. In essence, you felt awful. You’d toughed it out for as long as you could, making yourself a steaming hot tea and cozying into the sofa for the night. It wasn’t making you feel any better. So, in a last ditch effort of saving your night, you dialled your boyfriend.

You smiled as his croaky, half-asleep voice came through your phone, murmuring your name.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You asked, brows furrowed as you checked the time, gasping when it read 1:45am. You thought it was still closer to eleven.

“Don’t worry about it, couldn’t sleep anyway,” Luke lied and you frowned, though he couldn’t see it through the screen.

“No, it’s dumb. I’m sorry I woke you up. Night, Luke.” You moved to hang up when Luke interrupted you.

“Baby, wait! Clearly something’s bothering you. What’s up?” You smiled despite your discomfort, your boyfriend always boosting your mood without even trying.

“Nothing,” You pouted in your puddle of blankets, “Just feel sick.” You could feel Luke’s pity without him saying anything and weren’t sure whether to be indignant or grateful.

“Can you stay awake for twenty more minutes, love?”

“I guess so, why?” You asked, turning the TV back on as something to keep you from sleeping.

“I love you,” Was all he said, hanging up on you abruptly. You smiled softly to yourself, willing your eyes to stay open as you tried to focus on the sitcom in front of you.

You were just dozing off when you heard your apartment door unlocking and the brief shuffling of feet in the entryway. Your grin brightened, the familiar butterflies returning to your chest, even after months of being with Luke. The man in questioned approached you quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you looked up at him.

“Luke, it’s 2 am, what are you doing here?” You asked despite the obvious answer, opening your shield of blankets for him to crawl onto the sofa with you. He made you wait, tipping out his reusable shopping bag onto the coffee table in front of you. There lay a pint of ice cream, tea bags, painkillers, and your favourite chocolate. Suddenly you weren’t sure if the heat on your face was fever or blush. Silently you held your arms out, and Luke dove into them with all the enthusiasm of a child, peppering your faces with all the kisses he could manage.

“Couldn’t let my girl be sick on her own,” He mumbled, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, eliciting a bout of giggles from you.

“My very own Prince Charming,” You grinned, pecking his temple. After a gratuitous moment of cuddling Luke peeled himself off you, taking on the role of concerned caretaker. He was quick to dart into the kitchen, turning the kettle on for your tea and grabbing a spoon for the ice cream he’d bought. Sitting himself in the vacant spot next to you he fixed his focus onto the TV.

“What are we watching?” He asked, pulling the lid off the ice cream tub for you.

“How I Met Your Mother, I’ve just reached season seven.” Luke gasped dramatically, holding his hands over his chest in faux outrage.

“You continued without me? How could you?” You laughed at his accusatory tone, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Lukey. You have to forgive me though, I’m sick,” You punctuated the statement with a pathetic cough, smiling as Luke easily settled down.

You watched in silence for a bit, both giggling at the stupid jokes. After a while you felt Luke looking at you seriously, but chose not to think much of it, continuing to tune in to the show. When he pulled out a thermometer, you raised an eyebrow. Luke wasn’t usually one to be so prepared, but you let him rest it on your tongue nonetheless. When it read a concerningly high number Luke frowned, silently popping the painkillers out of their packaging, feeding you with the insistence of a fed up mother hen.

“Why aren’t you a nurse?” You joked, swallowing the medication with a mouthful of melted ice cream, “Rockstar be damned.”

“Only for you, love.”

“That’s not true, I’ve seen you fretting over Reggie,” You laughed, and Luke couldn’t help but join you.

“That’s fair. You’re my favourite, though.”

“How unexpected.” You craned your neck to press a kiss to his jaw, revelling in the dumb grin that crept onto his face.

You both settled into silence, you leant into Luke’s side, his hands rubbing soft circles into your thigh. You could feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, never quite able to stay in it for one reason or another. The blanket was too hot, you were cold without it, your head hurt. Nothing was quite right and all you wanted to do was sleep for as long as humanly possible.

“Luke?” You whispered, in case he was already asleep.

“Yes, love?” He replied, shifting his position to look down at you. You faltered for a moment, overwhelmed with the pure adoration in his eyes.

“Will you play for me?” Luke was up in a second, arranging you on the sofa. You giggled as he manhandled you, lying you down and wrapping you tightly in your blanket so you couldn’t escape. You teased him about being his captive audience as he tuned his guitar quickly, never being so grateful for his perfect pitch.

Without anymore holdups Luke began to play, plucking softly at the strings to create a melody that filled the air of your little apartment. His playing was like a siren call, pressing weights on your eyelids until you could barely stand to keep them open. You watched him while you could, admiring the way the faint light from the kitchen lamp made him look like an Adonis, his hair illuminated in gold and his features accentuated by the shadows. You couldn’t believe he was your boyfriend. Luke Patterson, heartthrob of Julie and the Phantoms was your dorky, adoring boyfriend who would make supermarket trips in the middle of the night for you. Who had your favourite ice cream memorised and your key attached to his, so he could come see you whenever he missed you (which was pretty much always).

Despite the various aches and pains that had overtaken your body, the only thing you could feel as you drifted off to sleep was the burning ball of light in your chest, a chemical mixture of joy and love and gratitude, overtaking your senses one by one until you were asleep, dreams filled of beautiful images of your boyfriend.

When you woke up the next morning, you figured out it wasn’t morning at all. Luke had evidently switched off your phone’s alarm after you’d fallen asleep, and it was well into early afternoon when you’d arisen. To his credit though, the sleep had done you some good, and you felt much less like walking death after an intense sleep.

You untangled yourself from the knit blanket, your feet wobbly on the hard wood floors. You had serious post-nap daze, and wandered through your flat looking for your boyfriend. The poorly made sheets on your actual bed told you where Luke slept last night — or this morning, more accurately — you smiled at the way he’d arranged your stuffed animals.

Stuck to the fridge under your New York City magnet was a note from Luke, explaining he had to go to rehearsal but he’d be back later to check on you. You pulled the paper off, travelling back to your room to put the note in your ‘Luke’ box, adding to the collection of notes and drawings he’d given you inconsequentially that you’d held onto.

As the afternoon ticked by you’d gotten onto your computer, figuring that although you were still ill you should try and get something productive done. You were armed with your box of tissues as you got started on an assignment you had due at the end of the week, and slipped your headphones on to get into the headspace.

You screamed as a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, quickly dissolving into giggles as you realised it was only Luke, back from rehearsal.

“Your voice still sounds scratchy, baby, how are you feeling?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Better, promise. Tomorrow I’ll probably go to class if I get another good night’s sleep.”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, and you felt your insides melting all over again. You closed the laptop, knowing you weren’t going to get much more done now that Luke was with you.

You spent the evening together, ordering in pizza from the place around the corner and getting slightly wine drunk as Luke told you all about his earlier rehearsal and the antics of his band. He sang you part of the new song he and Julie had written and you applauded dramatically, only stopping when you broke into a coughing fit.

“Wanna watch something?” He asked when you grew tired again, cuddling up to him like a cat.

“Barbie?” You asked hopefully, looking up at him with wide eyes. Luke sighed dramatically, but you knew he was just pretending not to like the animated movies you’d grown up on.

“Only if it’s Island Princess,” He offered and you nodded enthusiastically.

The two of you settled in for the movie night, Luke getting much more into the movie as it went on, as he always did. By the end you were singing duets — your voice considerably less pleasing than his, especially due to your illness — Luke taking on the role of the prince letting you be Ro.

As the credits rolled you felt your eyes closing again, and you felt eerily like you did as a younger girl, falling asleep on the couch after a Barbie movie. This was better though, because now you had Luke next to you. He’d taken his role as big spoon extremely seriously, and had all but become one with the couch, pressing into the back as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You shifted your position to face him, watching his face relax into contentedness as he tried to doze off to sleep. Feeling you watch him he cracked one eye open, mouth producing a dumb grin that made butterflies erupt in your chest.

“What?” He asked, but you got the distinct impression he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Nothing,” You lied, but gave in easily, “You’re pretty.”

“You’re pretty too. Now go to sleep.” You nodded, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Kay, goodnight Lukey. I love you.”

“Love you too, my girl. So much.” His answer was muffled by him pressing his face into your hair to pull you closer, but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face even as sleep enveloped you.

[ashonheavenscloud]

⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆ ot6 p1harmony: favourite places to kiss you <3

a/n: FINALLY back with a little headcanon! this is all sickening. beware of cavities.

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☆ theo:

fingertips/cheeks: i’m gonna be killed for this by my bestie but i see it soooo clearly. whenever i think of theo i think of gentle domestic love, and what’s more domestic than soft loving pecks on the cheek? he probably loves holding you on lazy days and letting you play with his hair and hands, basking in the attention, pressing the occasional kiss to your cheek. obsessed with your hands in his and loves rubbing the backs of them and bringing the tips of your fingers to your lips. loves loves loves how it makes you melt… he’d have the most adoring lovesick expression😭 also loves grabbing your hands to get your attention and pull you closer to him, lifting your hands to kiss along the fingers. brb sobbing

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☆ keeho:

lips: to keeho, there is no such thing as one kiss. even when he casually kisses your cheek or forehead, he’s coming back a few seconds later for another… and another… and it somehow always comes back to your lips. and he’s a damn good kisser, too. loves taking it slow and fully enjoying every second and every movement of your lips slotted with his. he could actually lose himself so easily in the moment and forget where he is. gets so distracted if you put on a lip gloss or tint he just wants to kiss you SO bad. i genuinely don’t have another one for him because no matter what, he always ends up locked to your lips, tugging at your bottom lip, holding your chin in place with one hand and your waist with the other

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☆ jiung:

forehead/temples: jiung isn’t overly affectionate, preferring very casual acts of intimacy. he kisses you the most when he’s holding you, and even more if you’re sleepy. he just finds you so endearing :( he’ll pull your body close to his and run his hands over your back/through your hair, giving you gentle kisses over your face, concentrating on your cheeks and temples because those places feel extra comforting to him. and what he wants the most in the world is for you to feel completely comfortable and happy. because it’s the same for him—with you in his arms, smiling from the kisses he litters on your skin, he feels the most at peace. and if you did the same back, and pressed soft kisses to his cheeks? he’s melting so fast he simply can’t handle it😭 would love it so much, blushing and laughing softly against your skin

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☆ intak:

lips and neck/shoulder: first and foremost this guy is literally sooooo obsessed with kissing you omg. even that’s an understatement. he kisses you on his way to another room. he kisses you when he’s clearing dinner dishes. he kisses you when you’re reading and he thinks you look so cute😭 is literally incapable at leaving it at one kiss too PFFT and he’ll do anything in his power to convince you to let him steal your lips and your time even if you’re busy… uses his sparkly eyes and that pouty way he speaks to his advantage. when you give in he’ll be so smiley, happily curling up with you to kiss your lips and let time slip by. also lovessss coming up behind you and nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder/neck and pressing little wet kisses to your skin. loves when you squirm cause it tickles. will hold you captive and keep at it until you’re both giggling messes😭

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☆ soul:

nose/hands: soul gives the vibe of such an adamant, pure hearted lover😭 he’d love pressing small kisses to your nose especially! even little playful bites and nibbles on the tip of your nose to make you giggle </3 he’d pepper them over your hands too, especially when you’re cuddling and he’s curling his body into your chest and holding your hands to his face. he just loves making you smile with his kisses and he knows that the ticklish sensation of his lips pressing kiss after kiss to your skin makes you laugh. so he does it ALLL the time. also finds it so comforting to hold your face in his hands and observe your expression before pecking your nose and pulling you close. aaahhhh he’s precious :(

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☆ jongseob:

cheeks: seob is suchhhhhh a lovesick boy, i will die on the hill that he is a very open and eager lover. even if he's shy at first, when he gets comfortable he is very affectionate. always wants you to know how much he cares for you and a soft press of his lips on your cheek is the perfect way to give you that reminder without going overboard, especially in a public situation. in the confines of your own space, he loves sitting you on his lap and nudging your cheek with his nose before kissing gently, several time… will eventually trail across your face to the other side. between every few kisses he’s pulling back to look at your expression and admire your features, will feel SO proud and happy if he’s managed to make you blush or smile. + finishes every make out session with a kiss on your cheek, almost like a little thank you... i’m devastated

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[janitorhutcherson]

hii! i’ve done nothing but write and get ready for the holidays this weekend lol. this is from your perspective, there’s no dialogue!! it’s probably pretty short too. anyways!!! enjoy :p

word count: unknown

warnings: none!! pure romantic fluff

summary: you and mike are doing absolutely nothing and you’re swimming in your own thoughts about how angelic he is

Infatuated. That’s what you were with Michael Schmidt. There was no doubt about that and no doubt he felt the same way. Since he’d dropped Abby off at school one morning, accidentally running into you as a hurriedly attempted to escape the school’s double doors before a swarm of mothers entered to drop their own children off, you had been practically inseparable. You’d been dropping your own little sister off for your parents, them taking advantage your day off. It was after a terse but genuine apology and an awkward acceptance with a small smile that the two of you exchanged a brief amount of conversation, coming to the conclusion that your little sister was one of the only people that Abby would actually talk to in her classroom.

With that being said, you exchanged numbers to set up a ‘playdate’ (although Mike knew if things went well, he’d use it for much more than that) and the rest was history. Now you were sat on his couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulders tenderly, the living room filled with darkness except for the blue light spilling into the room from the TV. Some shitty late night rerun of a reality TV show was playing, but neither of you were exactly paying attention. Mike was on the brink of exhaustion, his eyes starting to droop as he zoned out, not processing a word coming from the sound system. You were far too lost in your thoughts to even realize what was going on.

Your eyes lingered up from where they’d stayed staring at the TV with an empty look, now glancing up at his side profile. The illumination from the TV highlighted his stubble that had been growing out for weeks, something close to a full beard starting to appear, patchy spots here and there. His eyes were sunken in both from exhaustion and from the way his features typically sit. His nose was slightly crooked, something you’d loved and obsessed over since you’d first met. He never understood your love for it, but you felt as if it made him like a Grecian statue. His bushy eyebrows framed his face almost perfectly, his lips also full and a reddish pink color. He was perfect in every way.

After you’d come back to reality to an extent, you were now focused on his warm hand that was placed on your bare shoulder. His hands were warm but calloused and rough. The feeling was comforting, electric waves of warmth pulsing through your body from something so simple. You leaned your head against his shoulder, fluttering your own eyes closed as your breathing began to steady into the same pace as his. This. This was heaven. Pure bliss as every thought ceased to exist in your brain unless it was about him. Mike was all that filled your head. Your Mikey, the one who helped father Abby, the best big brother there could’ve. Mike, who was the most loving boyfriend you could possible ask for, constantly checking in on you, giving you affection, running you baths and holding you when you cried. Mike, your lover, best friend, and partner in crime all in one. He was your everything. You couldn’t want for forever with him, to get married, to have more kids, and to grow old together

Slowly, your mind began to slip away as you fell asleep. The last thing you remembered thinking was feeling the warmth of a pair of lips on your forehead. A blanket was sleepily pulled over your bodies as you were both readjusted, Mike laying down on the couch and you on top of him, his arms wrapped around you. Yes, forever could wait. For now, you were curled up in your lover’s arms, pleased as punch as you drifted off into the most peaceful sleep of your life.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“You’re nervous.”

“Hnnngh,” Keith says, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He looks straight ahead, left leg bouncing, hair pulled back into a ponytail but flyaways everywhere. He keeps having to push up his glasses when they slide down his nose, nudged forward by all the tension in his eyebrows. “Being stressed before a stressful situation is not being nervous, Lance, it’s just my brain responding like a brain.”

Lance hides a smile. “You’ve met my family before, baby.”

Keith slows to a stop as they approach their turn, looking at Lance instead of the road for the first time in twenty minutes. His indigo eyes are wide and pleading. Lance is distracted by the tiny mole beside his nose.

“I’ve met your mom,” he says emphatically, breaking eye contact with Lance to crane his head to the left, checking over the hill for any cars. He’s far more careful than he needs to be — there’s never anyone on this road. But Keith is always endlessly careful when he’s driving other people around. “I’ve met your siblings. I’ve met your abuela. I’ve met the twins.”

“Mighty number of people,” Lance agrees. He looks at his boyfriend pointedly. “All of whom love you.”

“Because they love you,” Keith stresses. “You’re, like, their favourite person. You hyped me up so of course they have a nicer view of me. But this is like — your great grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles and, I dunno, second sister in law five times removed —

“Not how that works,” Lance interjects, amused.

“—and now I gotta impress them all? At once? I still don’t know how I did that with everyone else! I panicked! I forgot all my lines and conversation starters! I just — was awkward, and they were cool with it because your family is cool!”

“Ah, yes, you were yourself and people liked you,” Lance says, nodding sagely. “How bizarre.”

Keith looks at him imploringly. He has a — really cute nose, holy shit. It’s crooked from the three separate times it’s been broken and Lance is kind of obsessed with it. All he can think about is pressing a kiss to the bridge of it and watching how Keith will crinkle it on reflex. He has to fight back a giggle.

“I am going to get eaten,” Keith says miserably. “My luck is going to wear out. I’m gonna say something stupid and offend your third cousin or trip over someone’s toddler and destroy your mother’s flan by crashing into the table and upending hot coffee on an elderly person. Then I’ll get arrested for assault and you’ll have to visit me in prison and my cellmate will make a comment about you or something and I’ll have to kill him and then I’ll get retried and the death sentence, probably, and then Red will bust me out of prison and cause intergalactic meltdowns and —”

Lance can’t hold back anymore. Quick as a dart he reaches out, fisting Keith’s collar, and yanks him over the gearshift, kissing him softly and soundly until Keith sighs, surprise fading into something calmer, relaxed. His hand comes up to cup Lance’s cheek.

“You need a Xanax,” Lance says gently as he pulls away.

Keith huffs, the manic look in his eyes replaced with something much softer. Relieved, even. “Yeah, probably.” He tears his eyes away from Lance, rechecking his turn and finally actually putting on his blinker and moving onto the right road. His free hand reaches over the gearshift and Lance grabs it, tangling their fingers together and resting them in his lap. “I just — I want your family to like me.”

Lance smiles, a wide one that brings a flush to his cheeks and makes him shy, even though he’s not self-conscious; a smile that makes something flutter so intensely in his stomach that it feels so intensely private.

“They’ll like you,” Lance says simply.

Keith exhales. His hand tightens. Lance squeezes back.

The rest of the drive is easy.

———

By the time they make it to Lance’s great-grandmother’s farm, he can tell that some tension has crawled back into Keith’s shoulders. But he’s always been brave, when fighting dictators or meeting parents, and doesn’t hesitate to pull into the gravel driveway and park the car. He squeezes Lance’s hand again before letting go, stepping out of the car and heading to get their stuff.

“Tío! Tío!” scream two voices, and Lance doesn’t even have half a second to brace himself before Nadia is launching herself at his stomach. He manages somehow to spin them both around to offset the momentum, keeping them both upright. Keith is not quite so lucky — Lance hears a slam, a startled oof, and then he sees their bags go flying out of the corner of his eye.

“Jesus Christ,” Keith wheezes, flat on the ground with Sylvio crowded on top of him.

“I got you!” the boy crows, scrambling off Keith’s body in order to adequately dance around in victory. “You went splat!” He whirls around to face Lance, still dancing around. “Tío Lance! Did you see?”

Lance adjusts Nadia on his hip, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “I did. You got him good, buddy.”

Beaming, Sylvio turns back to Keith, who’s finally managed to get enough breath back in his lungs to stand.

“You got me good,” he wheezes in approval.

“Just like you showed me!”

There’s no mistaking the smugness in Sylvio’s voice, the challenge, the I’m-little-you’re-big-and-you’re-a-loser.

Keith recognises the challenge easily, eyes glinting, and before Sylvio can run away Keith scoops him up, tossing him over his shoulder and whirling them around ‘til he’s dizzy.

“Just like I showed you, champ. Think you can get out of this one, though? It’s easy!”

Sylvio shrieks, pounding on Keith’s back with fists weak from laughter. Nadia squirms in Lance’s hold, so Lance sets her down, and in seconds she’s run and attacked Keith’s other side, climbing up his legs to try and free her brother. Keith scoops her up, too, throwing her over his other shoulder as she laughs just as shrilly.

“Clearly neither of you learned very much!” he shouts, grin so wide it practically splits his face. His already precariously dangling glasses slide right off his face but Keith doesn’t even spare them a glance, stepping over them easily and shaking the twins as he goes. “You’re trapped!”

It doesn’t take the bright twins very long to unite forces, attacking Keith with renewed vigour all at once. Lance bends down as they wrestle, scooping up Keith’s glasses and their discarded bags.

“He’s good with them,” Lisa says, sidling up beside him and sliding her hand around his waist. Lance mirrors her, squeezing.

“He thinks they’re hilarious. He loves them to pieces.”

“Believe me, they love him too. I heard about Uncle Keith so much on the drive down that I was tired of him before you two even got here.”

Lance snorts. “Yeah, right, dweeb. No one else here reads Jane Austen. You need your nerd buddy.”

“Indeed,” she says, grinning. She pats him on the hip, pulling away and taking one of the bags slung over his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get your stuff dropped off. Marcela will want to fuss over you, I’m sure. She hasn’t seen you since your last mission.”

Lance looks back at his boyfriend before following her, making sure he doesn’t need Lance’s help. The twins have wrestled him into doing their bidding, it looks like, or more likely he didn’t even put up a fight, and sit on one shoulder each, guiding him around the property with shouts and points and frenzied gesturing. Keith has his hand locked firmly over each set of knees, careful not to let them fall, as he wobbles around to make them gasp and laugh.

Lance smiles. He’s fine.

———

Keith finds him within the hour, Nadia and Sylvio off to play with their cousins.

“You abandoned me,” he pouts, hand wrapped around his elbow.

Lance notices, idly, that he’s slouching again; that his ponytail has been abandoned entirely and his hair curtains his face.

Hm.

“You were busy being a doofus,” Lance teases, brushing his hair out of his face. He nobly resists the urge to quote Regina George. “One of us has to be the mature one. We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression about the saviours of the universe.

“You’re hiding out on a random couch on your phone,” Keith deadpans. He glances down at the screen. “You’re watching a seven year old vine compilation. On mute.”

“Like an adult,” Lance says primly. “Watch with me.”

Keith rolls his eyes fondly, but slides on the couch behind Lance, arms wrapped around his waist and chin hooked over his shoulder. Lance digs in his pockets until he finds Keith’s glasses, twisting around to slide them on his handsome face. His hands linger on Keith’s temples. Keith’s smile is small and crooked and bares the tiniest peek of crooked incisors, and Lance’s heart flutters.

He leans back into Keith’s chest as he plays the video, watching a compilation of dorky videos he’s seen a thousand times. He feels Keith’s grin press into the juncture of his neck as he starts to mumble along. His hand rests just under Lance’s shirt, flat on his stomach. Lance fights the urge to squirm.

You Are In Your Abuela’s House, he reminds himself firmly. Your Ancestors Are Watching You. And Jesus, Probably.

Luckily, someone calls out their names before Lance really needs to find a vat of ice water to dunk himself in.

“Leandro! Keith! Come eat before your hog of a brother takes it all!”

The two of them don’t even need to pause for a moment before throwing themselves off the couch, scrambling towards the kitchen at top speeds because Marco absolutely will eat their portion of the food. Not even because he’s hungry for it, just because he’s a butthead who thinks it’s funny.

“This is your fault,” Keith informs him, careening around a questionably placed side table.

“Nothing is ever my fault ever in the entire universe,” Lance shoots back.

(Is it Lance’s fault? Possibly. But in his defense, the several years he spent as a child waiting for Marco to be distracted before eating his favourite thing on the plate still make him crack up when he thinks about it. Marco just got so mad, every time. Plus his eyes bulge a little when he loses it. How was Lance ever supposed to avoid poking that bear?)

Luckily, they make it in time to wrestle a plate away from Marco’s snickering ass.

“Keith, Lance,” Lance’s mother greets warmly before Lance can crack a plate over his brother’s head. “I’m glad you made it!”

“Mother,” Lance squawks dramatically, hand flying to his chest, “I am the second to be greeted? You’re son? You’re youngest angel? The one who went missing for several years and returned to you, prodigal?”

She reaches over and flicks Lance in the forehead. Keith snorts. Marco cackles.

“Keith called me on the flight home,” she explains, ruthless. “So he is the son, and you are the son-in-law.”

Keith flushes as he always does when Mamá pairs them like that, when they’re both her sons, when she implies what it implies. Lance lets the warmth of that expression soak into his bones, deep in through his back, from every point Keith is touching him.

“I was sleeping off being maimed!” Lance despairs.

It does him no favours. Mamá waves her hands wildly, setting down her own plate in favour of placing her hands over her ears. “Gah! Sh! Do not tell me of these things! I am meant to pretend your job is nothing more than ornamental! Do not ruin that for me!”

“It was the slightest ever maiming,” Lance mutters, sullen.

Keith visibly bites back a retort to that, no doubt out of respect for Mamá.

(Lance knows that Keith would have been the world’s biggest mama’s boy had he grown up with Krolia. He has shared this hypothesis with Shiro, who had laughed so hard upon hearing it that he had sprained a muscle in his neck, and then explained later with a heat pack and a wryly smiling Adam that Keith used to scold Shiro for pushing himself with exact quotes from Shiro’s mother herself.)

“Nobody ever wants to hear my side of the story,” Lance laments.

Keith bends down to kiss him on the cheek.

“That’s because you are a liar,” he says kindly.

Lance catches his chin before he can pull away, kissing him to shut him up.

They head outside to join everyone else, plates stacked high with food and plastic cups balanced precariously with spare fingers. Keith starts to slouch again as they walk out the sliding screen door, but he keeps his hair out of his face, eyes flitting between different people. It helps that hardly anyone spares him half a glance, too used to random new people in such a big family.

“Hey, Patito! Over here!”

Lance whips his head up at the familiar voice, breaking into a wide smile when he sees his sister’s wilding waving hand. Keith, too, seems relieved when he catches sight of Veronica, rushing over almost faster than Lance is.

“Hey, losers,” she greets, flicking water from her cup at them as they sit across from her. “Took you long enough to get here.”

“Lance is a distraction and danger to the road,” Keith says immediately, because he is a snitch. He is also unfortunately very quick and manages to duck away from Lance’s pinch.

Veronica snorts. “Believe me, I know. Every ride back to the Garrison on weekends was a near death experience because he kept smacking me every ten seconds. A menace.”

“You manipulator!” Lance accuses. “I slapped you because you teased me! Constantly!”

Keith and Veronica share sharp, matching grins. Lance takes a nanosecond to ponder what he ever did to deserve the sufferings of their friendship.

“That’s because you’re so goddamn easy to rile up, sweetheart,” Keith says with a wink.

Lance attempts to shove him off his chair. Unfortunately, while he does flail backwards, he manages to stay upright.

“You two were supposed to hate each other,” he mutters into his congrí. “This friendship thing is bullshit.”

Neither believe him for a second.

They’re barely into their meal when the nosiness starts. In fact, Lance is honestly surprised it has lasted this long. Luis probably said something to convince everyone to tone it down, because he is a saint and also Lance’s favourite.

“So,” says his Aunt Vena, “…Keith.”

Keith freezes, cheeks bulging. Lance tries very hard not to laugh at him.

“Hi,” he says, swallowing. He says nothing else and looks agonized about it. His memorized conversation starters have no doubt fled his brain.

“You know, I feel like I already know you,” jokes Aunt Vena, never bothered by awkwardness. Or boundaries. “I only see Leandro a few times a year were the only thing he talked about for ages.”

Lance goes pale. Oh, please God, no. Please let Aunt Vena be suddenly gifted with the ability to read Lance’s mind, or at least notice him waving his hands frantically behind Keith’s head, making cutting motions at his throat.

“Keith this, Keith that. Keith Keith Keith.”

Lance cradles his face in his hands. So much for miracles.

“He did?” Keith asks.

“Stop investigating immediately or you’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” Lance threatens under his breath. Keith’s hand finds it’s way to his thigh and rests there, as if laughing at him.

“Oh, yes,” laughs Aunt Vena. “Every other word was about how you sat in class or walked in the hall or flew your planes. He was always angry about it, but he was quite focused on you. Oh, and your hair.”

Aunt Vena turns away to chatter with someone else like she didn’t just ruin Lance’s life. Lance would hate her if he didn’t find her so goddamn loveable, but he does, so instead he looks up and suffers Keith’s wide, shit-eating grin, and ponders deep in his heart how he will re-humble his boyfriend so they’re back on even ground.

“���You were big on the hair, huh.”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll chop it off as you sleep.”

———

“Keith.”

“I’m just saying.”

“You dorkbrain.”

“I’m just saying!”

Keith’s hair is in a knot at the crown of his head, glasses pushed all the way to his face. He’s got Lance’s hand in his but he’s not paying attention to him in the slightest — he cycles between leaning back, then forwards, then craning his neck and shifting his eyes. Every few seconds he lets out a muted gasp.

A group of children run yelling in and out of the house, heedless of doors and stairs.

“You are such a mother hen,” Lance says with great amusement.

Keith is too distracted to even roll his eyes. “Some of them are very little,” he says worriedly. “Maybe they should play a game outside. There’s more space.” He looks around at the various adults sitting and chatting, aghast. “Should me maybe get a — pool noodle, or something? Just for the corners. So there are no head injuries. That’s the most common way they happen, you know. Tripping during play.”

Lance hums, leaning into his side. “Reading a lot of parenting books, are you.”

Keith is very deliberately silent. Lance flicks up his gaze to watch his face redden.

“…Akira.”

“It’s Shiro’s!” he says defensively. “It was — he had it on the shelf! I read it when I was younger! It was traumatizing! Do you know how easy it is to fuck up a kid? Very easy, Lance! Their heads are very squishy! They don’t know balance yet! They repeat everything you say!”

“Was this book,” Lance starts, choking back laughter with everything he has, “perhaps about raising toddlers?”

Keith’s jaw snaps shut.

“Children under two? Hm?”

Keith glances away. “It didn’t mention.”

Lance loses his battle, burying his cackling in Keith’s shoulder.

“How was I supposed to know that ‘A Guide To Raising Healthy Children For New Parents’ was about — babies? Shiro was the dumbass who had it!”

Lance laughs harder. “Did he — did he buy it when he —”

Keith puts his head in his hands. “He bought, like, forty books when he first started fostering me, they were all basically the same, he’s such a dumbass —”

“Stop, stop,” Lance begs, grasping his aching stomach. The image of Shiro, twenty years old, panicking after impulsively deciding to apply to foster the delinquent who stole his car, frantically googling advice for new parents only to unknowingly receive information about toddlers is the best mental image he’s had in a while. He’ll have to share with Pidge and the rest of the Holts the second they get home.

“You’re such a butthead,” Keith grumbles, but it’s half-hearted. His attention is still mostly on the way Mateo, Lance’s four year old second cousin, very nearly brains himself on the corner of the brick entryway trying to swerve away from his older sister. Keith’s sharp inhale would have been comical if Lance didn’t feel his own heart drop.

“Okay,” Lance concedes, “maybe it’s time for a new game.” He pats his boyfriend on the knee. “You’re up, champ.”

“Wait, me?” Keith asks, bewildered. “You’re their cousin.”

Lance shrugs. “You’re the worried one. Plus, I want to go get wine drunk with Rachel. Mamá said she just got here. She’s been avoiding my calls all week which means she has Information to share and doesn’t trust herself not to tell me immediately. I have to know what’s up.”

Keith still doesn’t look convinced. “But I’m a stranger to them, basically.”

“So start with Nadia and Sylvio, dummy. Once the rest of the kids see a cool newer and accidentally safer game to play, they’ll join fast. Plus, the stranger aspect is intriguing, probably. You’re like a new toy.”

To solidify his point, Lance calls his niblings over, gesturing to Keith. The twins light up, immediately abandoning whatever they’re doing — trying to shove a sleeping Luis’ finger up his own nose — to sprint over to them.

“Tío Keith has a game for you two,” Lance whispers conspirationally.

The twins burst into howling cheers.

“Game! Game! Game! Game!” they chant, each grabbing one of Keith’s hands and tugging him away.

Keith looks back at him, panicked. Lance blows him a kiss, then turns back into the house to go hunt for his sister.

She finds him first.

“LANCE,” she shouts, whipping around to face him. Lance immediately shifts backwards slightly, knees bent, legs widened, arms held out protectively in front of him. He smirks. She matches it.

She charges.

She aerials into a heel kick, as always, aiming for his skull. Lance back handsprings out of her reach, careful of the various relatives around him, who are well used to their brand of bullshit and don’t even pause their conversations as they lean away.

He comes back up just in time to throw up a block to her fists, aiming a kick to her stomach that she can’t fully dodge. She gets him right back, though, like she always does, aiming a sweeping kick for his ankles that he has to flip on his hands to avoid.

“It’s good to see you, fucker,” she pants, roundhouse kicking the dip of his waist.

“Likewise, asshole,” he grunts, grabbing her ankle and flipping her to the ground. She drags him down with her.

They’re both grinning.

“Tomorrow morning we box for real,” she proposes as they lay there, getting their breath back.

“Deal,” he agrees.

By the time they finally get back on their feet, they’re both parched, and since they also make frequent poor decisions, they head straight for the bad boxed wine. Lance pours them both heaping glasses and Rachel guides them to an open lawn chair, which they both sprawl on, a hundred percent in each other’s space.

“So,” Rachel says, chugging half her glass, “my grades are in. I’m graduating top of my class.”

Lance gasps. “Rachel!”

“And,” she continues, building up suspense with a grin, “I got word back from all my residency applications.”

Lance thinks he might explode. He remembers them when they were little, huddled on the floor of their bedroom at one in the morning, glow sticks guiding their planners, mapping out heir lives together. Where they would go to school, when they would bother with dating, how they would do it all together. Lance, best pilot to come out of the Garrison next to Shirogane. Rachel, the first surgeon to successfully transplant a brain.

“I got in,” she says, beam so wide it forces her eyes shut. “Lance, I got in!”

“Rach!” he screams, eyes blurry from tears and heart full to bursting. “Rach!”

He wraps his arms around her shoulders and squeezes, weeping with joy and elation and buzzing from his head to his toes. This is what Rachel has wanted since she was old enough to talk. This is his sister, his first and best friend, getting everything she has ever wanted, as she has always deserved.

“I’m so fucking proud of you!”

She squeezes him right back, her own tears wetting his t-shirt. Her relief is palpable, and Lance knows it, the indescribable feeling of finally crossing that goddamn mountain, finally getting what you’ve been working for for longer than you can remember.

“Everything is falling into place,” she says softly, pulling back and holding up her cup. Lance laughs and clinks them together.

They settle back into their shared chair, too happy for words, gathering themselves. Lance catches his mother’s eye and returns her soft smile, wine making him warm and happiness making him bright. He feels like he’s swimming in sun-warmed water.

He settles back with a sigh.

Rachel nudges him. “Hey, Loverboy. Look.”

Lance follows her pointing finger. Away from the tables and lawn chairs, in a wide, open space, there’s Keith — surrounded by every single child on the property, ordered in neat rows. Each of them has a hefty stick, held carefully in their hands, watching Keith with great intensity. Keith himself has his bayard out, stretched out in a battle position, back straight and shoulders loose. He has the same bright look on his face that he has during Lion training, or riskier missions. Excitement, steadiness, and a hint of cockiness that has Lance shivering. He demonstrates a move, and with a single minded focus, the children repeat it.

It has always been impossible not to want to be a part of everything Keith does, Lance has found.

“…You kind of scored,” Rachel observes.

Lance’s laughter is breathy, high-pitched. “Believe me, I know.”

There’s a rousing shout from the kids, then a cheer, then Keith shouts, “Ready?” and at their raucous response, chaos breaks out. Sticks are strikes and parried and children throw themselves dramatically on the floor in pantomimed deaths, scrambling to their feet seconds later to get back into the fray. Every few seconds Keith calls out rules and reminders, weaving through the children to point out places for improvement or congratulate someone for doing something right.

“I have never seen them all gathered this long without any crying or fighting,” Rachel says, something like awe in her voice. She pauses. “Well, real fighting.”

Lance smiles, something small and secret and over which he has no control. He catches his boyfriend’s eye and waves, which is returned at twice the enthusiasm.

“Keith’s good with kids,” he says quietly. To himself, he wonders if it’s possible to have a heart so full it bursts.

———

The blankets are scratchy but warm, and Keith smells as he always does, and Lance is half asleep. But the words come leisurely out anyway.

“You awake?“ he whispers, words tucked into the spot above Keith’s heart.

Keith hums. Lance feels the rumble of it in his cheek.

“Barely.”

His eyes are too heavy to keep open, so he lets them slip shut. He breathes deeply the smell of his boyfriend’s body wash, and traces meaningless patterns on his chest with his fingertips, breathing slowly, taking his time. He might fall asleep, but that’s okay. They have time.

“‘M glad you came, today.”

Keith’s breathing is slow and even, just like Lance’s, but he can feel the heavy weight of his gaze, those indigo eyes.

“I go where you go.”

Lance quirks his lips. The blankets rustle softly as Keith slowly slides up his hand, encircling his fingers around Lance’s wrist, palm resting on his forearm. After a minute Lance can feel his heartbeat, at the same time that he hears it, head pressed to Keith’s chest. “You’re good with the kids.”

Keith’s breath stutters. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I like them. And your family.”

“Told you.”

“Yeah, you did.” He’s silent for a minute, palm heavy on Lance’s skin. “I wanna — do this, Lance. Forever.”

Lance turns his head slightly, just enough to press his lips to Keith’s sternum. “I will love you until the end of time.”

He feels Keith’s smile, sweetening the air.

“I love you, too.”

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic July 14 - prompt 14: Secret Identity [word count 622]

“I really don’t understand why you obsess over this, Sirius.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. James Potter was the top sports journalist at the Grimmauld Chronicle. As for Peter Pettigrew, nodding by his side, he was of the best photographers the newspaper had. Both had gotten in for their talent, and even if Sirius knew he had started his career as an investigative journalist from the very bottom, there was still people saying he had his position only because his uncle Alphard owned the newspaper. And he was getting sick of it.

“I want to prove I deserve to be here,” he shrugged, putting the wrapper of his sandwich back on the lunch table he was sharing with his colleagues. “By uncovering the biggest secret of all.”

“But still…” James went on. “Why don’t you choose something else instead?” “Are you doubting my abilities, Potter?” “No, it’s just…” James lowered his voice. “What if discovering Superman’s secret identity does more harm than anything else?”

“Exactly,” Peter agreed. “The man’s been saving the city and the planet for years, he’s surely got a valid reason to not tell everyone who he really is.”

“He’s hiding,” Sirius shook his head. “Who knows how powerful he really is? We don’t know anything about him.”

“What are you talking about?”

Sirius raised his head, his eyes falling on a crooked smile which made his stomach do a cartwheel. Remus Lupin sat on the vacant chair at the table, opening a Tupperware of pasta salad.

“Well, Sirius…”

“I was wondering what the next great story would be,” Sirius interrupted Peter immediately.

No need to let the serious Remus Lupin, the newspaper’s attache for all cultural events, know about his obsession in unmasking Superman. Especially not when he was looking that cute in that jumper.

“Anything for me?” he smiled at him instead.

“I’m afraid not,” Remus chuckled, pushing his square glasses back up his nose. “Only a big museum opening tonight, with some precious artifacts. The city’s deployed additional security along with the one from the museum because rumors has it Lex Luthor is actually quite fond of relics and might try to steal them.”

“Heard that, Sirius?” James said. “Superman might need to go visit that museum.”

Sirius only shook his head, but that same evening he was there at the opening, trying his best to blend in among antiques and philanthropists. The security deployed was indeed huge, but all the same at one point of the evening screams came from one of the rooms and Sirius ran in only to find flying robots with claw-like hands opening the display cases and taking the precious artifacts out of them. Without thinking, he ran to the closest one and jumped to try and take the vase it was holding. He might be looking for Superman’s secret identity, but he was still a citizen of a place plagued by Lex Luthor’s crimes, and he was not about to let one of those happen without even trying to stop it. Sure enough, the robot moved swiftly further up in the air until Sirius couldn’t hold on any longer and was forced to let go. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact with the floor, but it never happened. Instead, two arms caught him and stopped his fall.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Sirius opened his eyes, finding himself be flown, bridal-style, to the floor by none other than Superman himself. The hero carefully put him on his feet and smiled before darting off to follow the flying robots wherever they were headed to. Sirius swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest for something completely different than the fright.

“Oh,” he breathed.

He would’ve recognised that crooked smile anywhere.

[weirwoodweirds]

You guys don’t get it, MAYBE they just forgot that Alyssa has an in-book description, because they love doing that, but TO ME it’s everything. Alyssa was not particularly beautiful, at least not by Valyrian standards, she had a crooked nose and dark blond hair and mismatched eyes. But to Daemon, who never knew her, Daemon who specifically likes girls with a Valyrian look(see show Mysaria asking if he’d prefer a girl with silver hair, see book Mysaria having pale hair) of course that’s what his mother looks like. She looks like Rhaenyra, like Aemma. And Daemon was so bitter about his marriage to Rhea Rhoyce, not an unattractive woman but a specifically not Valyrian woman, and more than that one who didn’t take his shit. It’s worth wondering if one of the many reasons Daemon, so obsessed with his Targaryen legacy, was jealous of Viserys, who got his perfect Targaryen bride in Aemma. It’s worth wondering if Daemon wished he’d been married to his aunt, Gael Targaryen, the youngest of Jahaerys’s children, only a year older than him. But instead he got Rhea, further disrespect in his eyes.

In terms of Alys, cursing him with these visions, she wouldn’t know what Alyssa looked like. Or she would, with all her magic, and chose to make Daemon a puppet of the mother he lost in the body of a woman he’d be attracted to. And yeah, it’s nasty to think about, but it’s actually very smart for Daemon’s character. Alyssa who died in childbirth, her son who’s second wife died in childbirth, and his third abandoned by him while she lost her daughter. And Aemma, who’s death and the death of her son he celebrated because it would make him heir. Rhaenyra, his niece, genetically, due to all the inbreeding, closer to being his daughter, who he groomed. So in his visions he fucks his mother, her grandmother. Forced to confront the tangled web of his family and their mad traditions that he takes so much pride in.

And I don’t think it was Alys’s intent to play to his obsession with the throne by having Alyssa feed that delusion, I think it was more intended to imply how twisted he’s become in his pursuit of power. Or maybe it was her intention, and she’s pushing him towards a mad pursuit of the throne that culminates in the fight above the God’s Eye, because whether the writers will keep to that as an act of loyalty to Rhaenyra is anyone’s guess. But I think it wasn’t intended to feed that delusion, more to make him confront all the women he’s used and abused through the guise of his mother, the one woman he would conceivably respect, who he instead has sex with before she dies in front of him. Pushing him to acknowledge the ways he’s wronged Rhaenyra and ultimately sacrifice himself to take out Aemond and secure her.

Anyway this show does a lot of things wrong when it comes to the Targaryens as a whole but someone in the writers room understood Daemon this season.

[niki-phoria]

Hi hi hi !! Can you do a scenario where chishiya's gn! s/o (who's normally sweet and sunshiney) finally snaps and cusses someone out or smth? I thought it would be p funny lmaosjsks (also unrelated but like who's ur txt bias)

i'm so obsessed with doctor chishiya you don't understand

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader (they/them pronouns used once) genre: fluff word count: 1.3k

warnings: not canon compliant, pretend this is before chishiya also starts sacrificing people ig ??, canon typical violence, death, cussing, i can't actually remember how arisu arisued his way out of this game so this could've actually gotten all of them killed lmao, i am incapable of writing fics if they don't end in a confession idk

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i couldn't really figure out how to make reader sweet so i just made them super cooperative (if that makes sense lmao) i hope you like it !!

also i am a beomgyu stan at heart but kai has had a GRIP on me since cysm something in that studio choom fancam changed me idk

requests open !! read my rules first

a group of people are already awkwardly standing around when you approach the building. a ‘ding’ chimes as soon as you enter the doorway, confirming your participation. you grab one of the phones on the table and sign in before moving to lean against the wall. chishiya stands next to you, subtly judging the people around you. 

“registration closed. game: dead or alive. difficulty: three of clubs,” the announcement begins. “rules: players must choose between two doors to exit the building. game clear: players exit the building safely within the time limit. game over: players enter the wrong room or run out of time.”

a clock hanging on the wall lights up with a timer counting down from two minutes. the people around you begin to panic. 

“life or death?” a woman reads. she’s wearing an apron covered in flour, nervously looking around the room. “how do we know which one to choose?” 

“just pick one,” a man argues. he’s in jeans and a stained shirt that reeks of alcohol, even in the borderlands. his words slur together a little. “we’re all gonna die anyways.” 

“nobody has to die,” you interrupt. “we can work together to win this one. we still have one minute and forty seconds left.” you glance between the two doors. they both look the same- artwork printed on the top half of a door labeled either “life” or “death.” 

“it’s life,” a man wearing a business suit says. his voice is deep and confident. there are no wrinkles or imperfections in his clothes though he looks tired. he peers at you through thick glasses perched on his nose. 

a high school girl nervously runs towards the door, swinging it open and stepping inside. less than a second later, a laser shoots through the ceiling and her body falls to the ground. your body stiffens next to chishiya. you stare at her corpse in shock until he starts pulling your arm, shoving you through the death door and slamming it shut behind himself. the room sets alight as soon as he does. 

“why would you do that?” the woman wearing an apron yells. “she was just a kid!” 

“these are death games,” the businessman apathetically responds. crooked fingers raise to push his glasses up, staring at you. “sacrifice is always necessary.” 

“we’re running out of time,” a teenager mumbles. he still has a bike helmet strapped on. “we need to choose another door.” 

time continues to tick down. panic engulfs the room. the woman nervously glances between the two doors before she closes her eyes, placing her hand on the handle of the life door and swinging it open. after a few seconds she lets out a relieved gasp. you’re quick to follow her out of the room, shutting the door behind you. 

the next room looks exactly the same as the others. a gray room with two doors, one labeled ‘life’ and the other ‘death.’ the timer is becoming faster now. 

“we should take turns choosing doors,” the woman suggests. “i picked the last one, it’s someone else’s turn.” 

“that sounds fair, right?” the high school boy anxiously fiddles with the clasp of his helmet. he glances at the time before turning to you. “i think they should go.” 

you flinch a little from the sudden suggestion but nod. “okay.” before you can leave to open a door chishiya pulls you back by your arm, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

“pick death.” he has no expression when you look at him but gives you a small nod towards the door. your hand shakes a little when you set it on the handle, swinging the door open and stepping into the room. after a few seconds of nothing happening, you let out a small sigh of relief. 

“who goes next?” you ask, looking between the teenager and the businessman. 

“your friend should go,” the businessman says. “he said something to you before you picked the door. what was it?” 

“why does that matter?” 

“he hasn’t said a word since we got here. for all we know, he could be a part of the games.” the woman shrinks back away from you at his words. you scoff. 

“you really think whoever is running these games is sending in spies?”

“he’s right,” the teenager says, moving to the other side of the room next to the woman. “how do we know who you are?” 

“we’re running out of time,” chishiya says. only thirty seconds remain on the timer. he grabs your hand, moving to the ‘life’ door and opening it. after a few uneventful seconds, the others rush into the room behind you. 

“he’s gotten every single answer right,” the businessman argues. “how?” 

chishiya sighs. “the building is shaped like a square. there’s one room in the middle and eight rooms surrounding it. the girl who opened the first door led to the room in the middle. if we stick to the edges of the building we’ll be able to complete the game.” 

“how long have you known how to win?” the woman yells. “why did you let that girl die? how can we trust you?” 

“i wasn’t sure until the second room.” 

“if you’re so sure, then open the wrong door.” the businessman says. “if you’re right, then the middle room will have more than one door and we’ll be able to see inside.” 

“are you a fucking idiot?” the words leave your mouth before you realize what they are, only spurred on by the anger coursing through you. “seriously, who do you think you are? you’ve done nothing but guess your way through the game and now that we have a strategy you’re complaining about the plan working? shut up and listen for once. he’s saving your lives!” 

you take a breath to calm yourself, almost shrinking back to chishiya’s side. he glances over his shoulder at you, silently reaching over to take your hand into his. the group stares between you, chishiya, and the businessman but you ignore them. the warmth of chishiya’s hand in yours calms you. 

“it has to be death,” he says, turning back to the group. “open the door.” nobody moves until you drag him with you to the door, swinging it open and entering the next room. 

you follow chishiya through the rest of the rooms until you end up at the final room. “wait,” he pulls you back, next to his side. there are only ten seconds on the timer. “the ‘life’ door leads to the middle room but the ‘death’ one goes back to the original room.” 

“the entrance and exit must be the same.” you rush to the door, quickly throwing it open and running out of the room. the fire barely misses you as it scorches the room, setting it alight in flames. you pant, leaning back against the wall of the original room. 

your phone chimes in your pocket. “game cleared. congratulations.” 

chishiya’s hand remains in yours, leading you out of the building. the cool night air feels good against your skin. he squeezes your hand, letting himself slightly relax. “thank you,” he whispers. “for standing up for me. for trusting me.” 

you nod, pulling him into a hug. chishiya stiffens a little, awkwardly standing in front of you before hesitantly wrapping his arms around you. “of course i trust you. i love you.” 

chishiya presses a kiss against your forehead, pulling you a little closer. “i love you too.” 

[pipnchips202]

while i eat up practically every valgrace fic i see, down bad jason grace for leo valdez is always one of my absolute favorites; so, here are 5 valgrace fics where jason is the pining one :)) (for the most part)

1. hopeless case by restinreeses

rating: teen and up

warnings: none

“Nico,” Jason wheezes as he slams the door to the Hades cabin open. “Nico, I think I’m in love with my best friend.”

“No, really?” Nico drawls, barely looking up from his book.

Or: in which nico is jason’s wingman this time around.

AHHHHH!!!!!! this is REALLY good; i love the characterization and the many implications of jason having helped nico get with will prior to the events of the fic. also, platonic jasico will ALWAYS get me.

2. EP: things leo does; by jason grace by jacksonpercy (robertmontauk)

rating: not rated

warnings: none

God, he loves Leo’s laugh. It’s more like a giggle than anything - all high-pitched and bubbly; his mouth stretches into the widest smile Jason’s ever seen, and his tongue sticks out of his tongue just a little bit, and holy fuck Jason’s in love with Leo.

Shit.

[leo does things sometimes, and jason notices.]

i was very much obsessed with this fic at some point (still kind of am, actually). it’s basically a 5 + 1 of jason just pining for leo and i LOVE it. small warning though, there is a mention of kinks in the second chapter, if that’s weird for you. it’s really just an offhand comment and doesn’t get brought up again, so do with that what you will. they are teenagers after all, and as a teenager myself, i can confirm i’ve thought of similar stuff several times! but, anyway, this fic is really good.

3. staring at me (with your lips and tongue) by ethannku

rating: teen and up

warnings: none

“You really believe all that?” Leo asks, and if Jason were more aware of the world, he might’ve registered the hopeful breathiness in his voice. But as it is, he’s far too focused on the hand on his chest. He nods anyway, once he realizes Leo’s asked him a question.

Leo huffs and leans closer while simultaneously pulling Jason closer.

For a moment, they just look at each other, their noses inches apart. Leo’s breath comes in soft puffs on his face. There’s a hint of a smile on Leo’s face, but the corners waver as if he’s having second thoughts. Jason registers Leo’s eyelashes flickering, and his blood sings when he realizes he’s looking at Jason’s mouth.

Or; Jason is down bad, and Leo might be too.

this one’s really good, too. lot of kissing. a few suggestive references/jokes but no suggestive actions, just kissing. also has many piper moments mixed in :)

4. Crooked Glasses by thebigqueer

rating: teen and up

warnings: graphic depictions of violence

leo & jason confess their feelings for each other in an arcane-themed alternate universe.

~~

Leo has always been flirty. When he casually smirks at Jason and tells him how handsome he looks; when he bites his lip suggestively and tells Jason that no, he doesn’t mind if he changes his shirt in front of him; when Jason asks what’s for dinner and Leo responds, “Not sure, but I know you’re the desert,” Jason doesn’t make much of it. Sure, an occasional blush and an attempt at jokingly flirting back, but Jason knows he doesn’t mean it. Besides, he isn’t special. If Jason had to count the amount of people Leo had made out with just in the past year, it might take both his hands.

But lately it’s been different. There’s a softness in Leo’s eyes when he catches sight of Jason, a more soulful smirk when he offers that they sleep in the same bed, a hopefulness when he asks Jason if he wants to come with him on his next haul.

i’m gonna be honest: although i plan to someday, i’ve never seen arcane. and this is an arcane au. however, even though i know absolutely nothing about arcane, i did understand this, i think. i’m putting it here because a) it’s well written, b) it does in fact feature pining jason grace, and c) i have very limited options when it comes to valgrace fics anyway, so i don’t have much of a choice. yes, there is action and a mild fight with sherman yang and connor stoll, but it’s not that graphic in my opinion, but that’s just me; what’s more graphic is actually the gratuitous descriptions of leo’s gorgeousness from jason’s pov (understandably so). anyway, this is a good fic; if you’re not familiar with arcane, you can probably still read it, because i enjoyed it quite a lot!

5. hold me, thrill me, kiss me by restinreeses

rating: teen and up

warnings: none

“You love me,” Leo declares, his smirk widening with every passing second. “You, the great Jason Grace, love me.”

He fumbles for his words, but they melt in his mouth as Leo's hands snaked up the small of his back – those delicate fingers tracing patterns into his skin that burnt worse than his SPQR tattoo.

“I wouldn’t call myself great,” he mutters at last. Leo leans in, raising one thick eyebrow.

“I dunno,” he says, “I’d say you’re pretty great.” His lips brush over Jason's, once, twice. “You know. For loving me.”

...

In which Jason falls and Leo catches him.

okay, so i was debating whether or not to put this one because jason is still dating piper during this fic. she doesn’t make an appearance, she’s only mentioned, but jason and leo kissing is referred to by the both of them as an affair, which might make some uncomfortable. however, this has absolutely gorgeous writing. is jason still in love with piper during this fic, though? no. a bit complicated. however, it is, once again, pining jason as promised. they kiss a lot in this one, too.

enjoy!

— piper <33

[toomuchracket]

freckles (ross x shy gf!reader smut)

once again, summer75. dedicated to vee cos i love her <3

your wine glass is cool to the touch, its contents even cooler when it passes through your lips. it's a nice contrast to the warmth of the night, and of ross's arm around you. to be honest, you aren't sure which is making you more lightheaded.

you watch as he takes a sip of his own wine, doing his best not to wince at the taste and failing miserably. he turns to look at you when you giggle, brow raised but eyes soft. “something funny, love?”

“no,” you try to bite back a smile, but it's impossible around him. “how's the wine? i know you don't usually drink white.”

“yeah, it's, um, it's nice.”

liar. you laugh; his eyes sparkle at the sound. “ross, i do have other drinks you can have.”

he shrugs. “but you like this one. and i want to be involved in the things you like.”

a wave of affection washes over you, another layer of warmth going straight to your head. “you're very sweet, ross.”

“well, i try,” he leans down to kiss you, long and slow and tender, smiling against you when you sigh happily. “nowhere near as sweet as you, though, baby.”

“stop,” you hide your face in his neck, slightly overwhelmed, but smile against his skin at the way he laughs and tugs you onto his lap properly. the two of you haven't been dating very long, but ross has made it through your barriers deftly and quickly, and being in his arms like this is fast becoming the safest place in the world for you. with a soft kiss to the crook of his neck, you pull back to look at him, eyes meeting his dark ones and passing all over his face when the intensity of his gaze becomes a little bit too much for you; something about his nose catches your attention. “never noticed your freckles before, babe.”

he smiles. “s'the scottish genes - that's the closest i'll get to a proper tan, those freckles.”

“shut up,” you snort as he laughs, hands coming up to tenderly touch his face. “you have them on your cheeks, too. they're pretty.”

ross blushes. like, actually blushes, and you're obsessed with it. “really?” he asks, voice more bashful than usual. “you think they're pretty?”

you nod, sincerity radiating from every pore on your body. “very pretty,” emboldened by the wine, your hands travel downwards, coming to rest on his hard chest. “can't believe i've never noticed them before. is that the only place you get them, or…?”

your boyfriend (!!) smirks. “is that a hint for me to take my top off for you to look there, love?”

“no!” you protest, heat flooding your cheeks. then you pause, looking shyly up at him. “well, unless you want to.”

a big hand comes up to gently hold your jaw. “do you want me to?”

there's silence for a second while you try to form a coherent thought, the only sounds your rapidly-beating heart and the 90s slow jams playlist ross put on an hour ago - difficult, when all you can think about is the way ross feels underneath you and the sheer want in those pretty eyes of his. inhaling slowly, you nod against his hand, exhaling shakily when his thumb passes over your lips and he speaks. “need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“yes,” you hear yourself murmur. “i want you to - want you,” and then, as an afterthought. “please.”

he laughs, leaning back against the sofa. “sweet girl. you wanna unbutton me?”

nodding, you oblige with shaky hands, fingers slipping on the plastic. “sorry.”

“that's alright, love,” big hands manoeuvre yours, undoing the buttons with ease before sliding the shirt off completely. “there we go. ready for your viewing pleasure.”

humming happily, you trail your fingers over his chest, smiling at the way he shuffles beneath you. something about the realisation of the effect you have on ross spurs you on, makes you move his hands to the hem of your top and bite your lip. “my turn?”

“you're sure?”

you nod, smiling shyly. “you can check me for freckles now.”

ross laughs, leaning in to kiss you then quickly pulling your top over your head and chucking the fabric to the side. sweetly, he smooths your hair and kisses your forehead before his gaze moves lower, onto your now-bare chest; it soon flicks back up to meet yours, though, and he smiles adoringly. “you're beautiful.”

there isn't a shred of insincerity in either his voice or his eyes. still, your cheeks burn at the compliment, and you move in for a cuddle, bare chests and heartbeats meeting as his arms close around you and your forehead meets his shoulder. muffled by his skin, you speak. “like you so much, ross.”

“i like you so much, too, love,” his hand weaves itself into your hair, softly stroking your scalp. “wanna show you just how much, if you'll have me.”

you can't stop your hips grinding down into his at that, or the soft moan that leaves your lips. “can we… here?”

ross huffs out a laugh, gently pulling your head back so he can look you in the eye; his, you notice, are sparkling. “you want me to fuck you on the sofa, sweet girl?”

fuck. you don't need to think about your answer to this one. “i do.”

“good girl,” he kisses you again, swallows the moan you let out at the praise. “will you get comfy on the couch for me, please?”

reluctantly detaching yourself from him, you sit on the cushioned seat and look up at him when he stands. you like this, ross towering over you and looking at you like he wants to eat you alive, though you'd never admit it to anyone other than him. he seems to know, though, smirking while you hungrily watch him undo his belt. “your turn in a second, love.”

“mmmkay,” you smile when his hands come up to the waistband of your skirt, undoing the buttons down the front and letting the fabric fall aside much like his shirt earlier. his lips part at the sight of your lacy pink underwear, and the sight gives you enough courage to open your legs and give him a better look. “you like?”

“i do,” ross looks mesmerised, index finger coming up to trace a line down the middle of your underwear, directly on top of your soaked core. when you whimper at the feeling, he grins. “oh, baby, you're desperate for me, aren't you?”

you're too turned on to be inhibited about it. “yeah.”

he kisses your nose, calloused hands finding the waistband of your panties. “can i take these off, please?”

“can do whatever you want to me.”

ross smiles. “but what do you want me to do to you, love? come on, tell me. tell me, and i'll do it.”

you're so turned on it hurts. voice quivering, you reply. “want you to fuck me.”

another kiss. “alright, pretty girl.”

before you can thank him, ross is pushing slowly inside you, both of your jaws dropping the further he goes. when he - after what seems like an eternity - bottoms out, your eyelids flutter closed, and you feel a hand softly caressing your cheek. “you okay, baby?”

“mhmm,” you nod, opening your eyes and smiling shyly at the gorgeous man above you. “just full.”

“need a second?”

you shake your head. “fuck me, please, ross. hard. can take it.”

“shit,” he leans down to kiss you, the chain around his neck cool against you. “well, you asked for it.”

your hands scramble for purchase somewhere, anywhere on your boyfriend's body as he starts to thrust sharply into you; one ends up clinging to his shoulder, nails digging crescents into the (freckled, it's worth noting) skin, and the other fumbles with the tie holding his hair up, throwing it into your living room with reckless abandon before rooting into the dark tresses. ross's arms are braced on the back of the sofa, his jaw is slack, and his eyes are fully trained on you, flitting between your bouncing tits and your fucked-out face as his hips slam into yours. he breathes heavily, letting out the sexiest sound you've ever heard when you tug slightly harder than intended on his hair. “fuck, baby, look at you taking me so perfectly. could stay in you forever.”

you beam, eyes rolling back into your head a little as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you - a particularly good thrust has you whining, and ross laughs and holds your thrashing legs. “feel good, love?”

smartarse. you'd glare at him if you could, but he's fucking you so well that you can't look at him any other way than adoringly. which, to be fair, is how you always look at him, but it's a lot more intense when he's inside you, above you, around you, filling you up and clouding your brain with nothing but him.

still, ross expects an answer - he touches your face again, beaming at you with an expression you can't quite place when you turn to kiss his palm. “talk to me.”

breathing shakily, you do your best to compose yourself - far easier said than done, when one of his hands sneaks inward to rub at your clit. “feel so good, so fucking good, ross.”

“i like it when you say my name,” he smirks above you, and that face alone is enough to have you teetering on the edge of orgasm. “makes me feel special.”

“you are,” you whimper, vision genuinely going a bit blurry. “only you, yeah?”

his hips snap into you even faster, eliciting a strangled scream from you; he soothes it with a kiss, surprisingly tender given the surrounding circumstances. “just me, love?” he coos, voice dripping with a uniquely sexy tone of condescension. “only me that gets to see you like this, have you like this, make you feel like this?”

“yes.”

“prove it, then,” ross pulls back, holding your legs for leverage. “cum for me, baby.”

and how could you ever refuse him?

you cling to him as the orgasm hits, whimpering into his neck until the aftershocks subside; even then, though, they're restarted by ross's own orgasm, hips stuttering as pleasure takes hold of him. “love,” he groans into your hair. “where d'you want me?”

no other place for it - “inside, please.”

“fuck, thank you,” ross pants, holding your hips flush against his as he falls apart with a guttural moan. “oh, god, i love doing that to you.”

“s'good,” you whisper, smiling as he flops to the side and pulls you onto him. he's dripping out of you, but neither of you mind - you're too busy clinging to your boyfriend like a limpet, lulled into relaxation by the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. “thank you, ross.”

“anytime, love,” he kisses your forehead. “you tired?”

“little bit. you wore me out,” you giggle. “shall we shower? can actually genuinely check me for freckles, if you like.”

“whatever you want, baby.”

[rizzyu]

▵▿— Hard Work Pays Off

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn! reader

Category: fluff

Warning: none

Summary: Satoru finally got time to relax with you after coming back from a 4-week-long mission

A/N: have been obsessing over this boi lately. Eyy no you do that too yea i see you

How long has it been?

Your husband took on an important interstate mission from the higher ups a month ago, and you hadn’t seen him since he left for that mission. He did text you between the 1-minute breaks he had. But later on he became so busy that he barely had the time to text you anymore, to the point where you started the get worried. Worried that he didn’t even let himself rest, or maybe something worse happened.

As you sat on the couch in your and Satoru’s shared home, your mind began to wander off again. Recently you were stuck in this cycle where every time you returned home from your missions for the day, you would helplessly think of nothing but Satoru. Guess this was just how much you missed him.

Your thoughts were cut short when you heard the doorbell ring. When you cautiously opened the door you a tall figure before you who was none other than Satoru himself. With a tired yet joyous smile on his face, he showed you a bag of your favourite dessert he bought just before returning home. “Darling I’m home.” Without another word, you wrapped your arms around his torso, nuzzling your face into his chest. “Welcome home, ‘Toru” Your voice starting to break. “You were gone for so long, I was starting to get worried.” “M’sorry, the higher ups are really working me to the bone, y’know?” Satoru snaked his arms around your waist to pull you close. “But I’m home now… we can finally relax together…”

Next thing you knew was Satoru’s long ass body fell limp onto you. You hastily tried to support his sudden weight by adjusting your arms, careful not to completely drop the man onto the floor. “’Toru?” Satoru nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

“’M so tired…” His voice was muffled.

“’Toru stand up straight, I ain’t carrying you.”

“But I’m so sleeepppyyy…”

You sighed in defeat as you mustered up enough of your remaining strength to give the man a scuffed piggy pack. “You big baby…” You plopped him on the couch with a huff. You placed a little peck on his nose before heading to the kitchen to make him something to eat. You found some cake and instant ramen packets. As you were boiling the ramen, two arms snaked around your waist. Satoru pulled you close to him from behind and buried his face in your neck once again.

“’Toru I thought you wanted to sleep?”

“I can’t sleep without you acting as my pillow.”

“Satoru does this mean you haven’t slept at all during your mission?”

Satoru didn’t respond, only watched as you stopped stirring the boiling ramen and turned to make eye contact with him. “I was bweeesyyyy… (busy lol)” You brought a hand up you pat his head. You sighed “Take a quick shower and go to sleep after eating, ok? Can’t have you exhaust yourself under my watch.”

▴▿▴▿▴

You sat at the dining table with Satoru as you enjoyed your steaming hot ramen and cake. “Waaa this cake is still so gooood! It’s so sweet and fluffy! Wait, when did you get this??”

“Heh I got this specifically for you while you were still on your mission. I guess I’m just amazing when it comes to buying cakes.”

“And I have good taste in cakes right?”

“Yeah yeah whatever you say.”

“Tsk you’re so mean…”

▴▿▴▿▴

“Alright since you’re finished with your food, go take a shower. I’ll be waiting for you on bed.”

As Satoru showered, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Satoru acting like a little child after just arriving home. You knew Satoru barely had the time to actually enjoy the trip with so many tasks at hand, so it brought you joy to cheer Satoru up. You thoughts were cut short when Satoru stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his neck and damp bangs falling over his forehead. You’ve got to admit he looks so fucking captivating after shower. It honestly was taking you all your strength to not nosebleed. (I wrote this bc I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE.)

“Hey you’re staring…”

You didn’t even notice yourself staring that Satoru until he told you. “WHAAT? No I’m not…” Satoru treaded over and got on bed with you. “Yea you were. Can’t resist my charm hmm?”

Smug bastard.

He crawled over you and caged you underneath him, watching as your cheeks and the tips of your ears immediately turned a pretty shade of pink. “Hey don’t you think this is the perfect time to make out?” “Satoru!” You turned your head to the side. “It’s late, plus you just got back from a mission. It’d be better if you rest now.” Satoru pouted at your response and gave you the most precious puppy eyes. You sighed. “How about tomorrow? If you sleep now, we can do whatever you want tomorrow.” Satoru perked up at your offer.

“Really? Anything I want?”

“Anything.”

With a cute little yay, Satoru laid beside you and pulled you close. You felt his soft lips capture yours. Satoru brought a hand up the cradle your face and tilted it to deepen the kiss. When you pulled away to catch your breath, he buried his head in your chest. “Then good night baby…” His voice gradually became softer and softer. “Satoru?” You tenderly called out his name before hearing little snores come from his plump lips. He was so tired he fell asleep in a matter of seconds. Cute. You placed a peck at the crown of his head and held his sleeping body close to you.

“You worked really hard didn’t you?” You softly chuckled “Good night to you too angle boy.”

[xandy-toady]

Mansk x Genderneutral!Reader || Scenting kink + Possesive NSFW HCS

Personal hc that his sense of smell is MUCH better then even the normal Na’vi, so I’m swinging off of that plus some extra things, Mansk is territorial over you idc idc

Pretty short but idk, let me know your thoughts!!

Warning ; Lots of scent talk, marking, cum play, displays of possessiveness, v obsessed, jealousy, in general it’s just him loving your different scents with his heightened smell

NSFW MINORS DNI

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>Ever since coming within the vicinity of you, your scent had him hooked.

>Genuinely was addicted day one

>He always found you off smell alone. And he still does, likes how he feels like a predator with his prey

>He’s had a few intense moments where he almost fucked you in a hallway when he smelt pure arousal and sweat coming from you after emerging from your office, face flushed

>Once you and Mansk did get together, his addiction to the intoxicating smell doubled

>Always pulling you close, taking your entire being in as he takes a deep breath, mind fogging as your scent washes over him in waves.

>Feeling how your skin would start to heat up under him from his touch

>Hating when you take showers, he likes your natural scent, never hesitating to breath you in no matter how gross you complain you are

>He does NOT care that it’s a bit nasty

>Even after going to the gym with him, he will still pin you to the change room bench, head buried in the crook of your neck, leaving an array of marks on you while grinding desperately—

>Large, rough calloused hands digging into your flesh, making sure to sink his teeth into your neck, nose pressed firmly to you

>You can feel him growing hard, grinding his dick against you like a bitch in heat

>You swear you hear him whimpering every so often as he manhandles and keeps you pinned under him, cock rutting into you desperately, and to think it was just from his scent kink

>Mansk actually loves your after workout smell the most out of all of your different scents that roll off of you, it’s the most intense and you heavily smell of pure you

>Hating how you reek of Lyle after you had helped him with something

>It always makes his ears swivel downwards, visibly tensing up in smelling his mates scent mixed with another males

>Not something he particularly enjoys, it wakes everything in him not pin you to the floor and lay claim, almost like a predator with its prey

>A little bit territorial over what’s his 👀

>Silently staring at you unamused every time, grabbing you to drag you to somewhere with even the slightest bit of privacy

>Unable to stop the low, angry growl that escapes him at how Lyle’s scent clung to you

-He couldn’t have this, now could he?

>It was so sudden to you, but found yourself curious as he brought you elsewhere to privacy

>Bringing you to your knees to suck him off, then fucking you all so he can smear his cum on you, in you, pressing your bodies close ensuring you smelt like him him him.

>When you ask what that was about, he just shrugs and looks away shyly

>Doesn’t want to admit that he could smell Lyle on you, no way was he admitting he was jealous in any way lmfao

>Loves seeing others’ noses crinkle when you walk in, an intense waft of sex and Mansk after one of your longer nights trailing behind as you walk past the recom unit

>Lyle making a comment on how you smell like a cum dumpster earning a swift punch lmfao

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>Hope you enjoyed! Requests are OPEN!

[st4rfvckerr]

//talk of body dysmorphia

The Glade didn't have any mirrors.

The luxury of knowing what you look like, to truly understand who you are, to stare back at your reflection with the comprehensive knowledge of your existence, had been deemed unnecessary by WICKED.

It never rained, either, the hope for the opportunity to catch a glance of your image in a muddy puddle, your face blurry and distorted but yours nonetheless, ripped away.

At times the inability to grasp the full extent of your character felt like the biggest struggle, the terror of not understanding one's self sometimes greater than the feeling of being trapped. Over the years your personality ended up blurry and indistinct, the constant questioning dying down to a quiet incomprehension. Sometimes you were more afraid of yourself—of who you could be, or not be—than of whoever out here had caused all of this.

Newt had always wondered what he looked like. The thought was more fleeting than constant but it always seemed to bother him, the itching curiosity driving him forward. He'd run his fingers over the curve of his eyebrows, his cheekbones, the crook of his nose where it had been broken by a stray punch, his lips, and map out his features. At first it had been out of pure wonder, nothing more than thirst for the knowledge of his appearance. Soon it became reassurance, the obsessive caress the only promise of his definitive existence. It was ridiculously easy to forget yourself in the Glade.

When he finds out their dorm, out in the Scorch, has mirrors, he's more affected than he would've liked to be.

He'll say that what he was most ecstatic about was the food, the proper beds with actual mattresses and soft cotton bedding, the long, hot shower he got to take. Yet what interests him the most is the mirrors.

He notices them, as soon as he walks into the room, polished glass mounted onto simple metal frames, and it's terrifying. As much as he had accepted the food and accommodations without a second thought, the ordeal of actually taking in his facial features drives terror into his stomach, sharp and agonizing.

It takes him a while to build up the courage to approach it, the idea of it intriguing and alluring, pulling him in, and yet simultaneously horrifying. When he does tentatively stand in front of the glass the whole idea he had made out of himself collapses.

The vision is outlandish, familiar in an unidentified way, like a scenery momentarily reminding you of a childhood dream you once had, and he hates it. It's so wrong, yet so well-known, his skin stretching over his bones in a way he doesn't understand but has felt so many times. His face is distorted and his body blurs at the edges, in the way an illusion would glitch out and prove that it isn't real. Newt doesn't believe he is real. The body he's seeing, all sharp edges and prodding bones, must be another one of WICKED'S freak experiments, the shape alien and absurd. He hates it so much he cannot breathe, discomfort clawing at his throat as he chokes on the urge to itch out of that body and shed his skin. The face in front of him isn't his and he's certain of it, the features he painted out with his fingertips so vastly different from the ones he's discovering now he wonders just how idiotic he must've been to be so wrong. His face is too angular and his nose too thin and Newt wants to claw at his face and smooth out his features until they disappear, melting down into an unrecognizable shape. He feels nauseous watching his image, realizing he had never even begun to understand himself. It's sickening, to know he had lost himself, and he wishes he had never confronted his reflection; the true version of himself he isn't sure belongs to him.

[tac-the-unseen]

Vincent Sinclair x Slasher obsessed! Male reader

CW: Blood, Gore, bad friends

While on a road trip you and your friends pass through Louisiana. You’re driving two of your friends around the country in an act of spiritual journey.

While riding around in bum fuck nowhere, you find yourselves needing gas. You catch the site of a sign telling you there's a nearby town.

“Ambrosia? Like the food of the Gods, Ambrosia?” Tim asks to No one in particular. Tim was just an average looking, nerdy, white guy. Pale from hardly stepping outside, brown straight hair, socially awkward, acne scars, and a crooked nose from taking a beating one to many times. Despite needing a shower, He's a decently friendly guy.

“What other Ambrosia do you know?” Brian retorted with sass. Brian is Honduran. Tan skin, black wavy hair, thick eyebrows, cracked lips, and two moles on his left cheek. He's a bit of a jerk, but is just a nerd guy at heart too. You've caught him sneaking out to magic the gathering tournament a few times.

“How about that shitty fruit and marshmallow salad white suburban moms make?” you quip while driving towards the town. The three of you were on your way across back home from college, and simply crossed through Louisiana on your way. You were the ‘crazed’ horror obsessed friend. Tim and Brian have told you several times that you talk about it way too much.

Tim slaps your shoulder and scoffs, “It's not that bad!” he pouts at you. You don't even look over your shoulders “You only say that because you're white suburban mom makes it for parties!” Tim dramatically gasps and slaps your shoulder again “And so what if she does!? She makes it good!” he argued back.

“Blah blah blah, both of you shut up!” Brian says and looks out the window. All that just for Tim and Brian to have a hussy fight of a fight in the back seat. You roll your eyes as the car slowly pulls up into the dingy Town of Ambrosia.

Almost as soon as you enter you spot a gas station. It only takes a little bit more driving to reach there, but it's also a good pit stop to go to the bathroom and grab some snacks. you listen to the mindless rambles and arguments of your friends, nothing important.

As much as these two are your friends, they're also the people that annoy you the most. They're just the only people that will hang out with you for the time being.

You pull up to the side of one of the pumps, turn off the car, hop out and pop the gas cap. Both guys slither out of the backseat and slump off into the gas station without talking to you.

“Rude!” You jokingly call at them. They laugh, turn around, and flip you off.

You put in your card and start pumping gas. You think about the end goal of this trip and how it is just a few more hours before You arrive at your destination.

Once the tank is filled up, you pay, close up, and drive into an actual parking spot. You take a moment in your car to catch your breath. You have no idea how you're going to deal with eight more hours of this, but you'll endure.

You, Tim, and Brian have a bunch of plans for this trip. You have plans on where to eat, where to go, what hotels to stay at. And it sounds so fun, but you don't know how you're going to manage with the two of them.

It's gotten to the point where you don't really care if you seem like a bad friend at times, they're just…too much.

You exhale and get out of the car. When you walk into the store you see Tim chatting up the store clerk, and Brian snagging some snacks.

You walk in and nod at the Clerk, but start going towards Brian.

“What you find?” You ask him, looking over the aisles. “Dude, all they have are seeds, jerky, beer, and gum.” Brian huffs louder than you would like him to. You jab him in the stomach and give him a disapproving look.

“Dude!” He yelps, but otherwise he shuts up. A hardy laugh snaps both Yours and Brian's attention. The clerk and laughing with Tim over what you assume is a bad joke. He lets out a breath and turns to look at us “This kid, is something else!”

You assume that's supposed to be a compliment, But then again you're in the south so probably not. You just smile and nod and turn back to the snacks, not really wanting to get mixed up in this.

“You know what? How about I spot you three a beer! You're all over 21, right.” He takes a quick second for one of us to respond. Before anyone can he just smiles and walks out from behind the counter, “Meh, I don't really care!”

He puts on a big, wide smile and lightly jogs to the refrigerated section of the store. “You Boys Cool with Blue Moon?”

You and Brian watch in confusion while Tim answers, “That's fine, Boss. A drink is a drink!” The Clark does a weird little happy dance while he grabs a case.

Finally you get a word in, “Um, Guys I have to drive later…Our hotel is 3 hours away!” You guys prepaid all the hotels that you're going to be staying at on the trip.

The Man gives you a strange look. For a second you thought you saw something gleam in his eye, But as soon as it comes it goes and his charismatic smile return. “Oh, come on! It's just one!” He smirks and closes the fridge with his heel. “Youa lightweight or something?”

Brian pushes your shoulder, “Dude it's just one, we'll just wait until you sober up.” You give him a look of disgust and once again before you can say anything the clerk speaks first. “Lemme take y'all to my shop, I got seats in there.”

Tim start following The man, And Brian shoulder checks you while he does the same. You stand there stunned for a couple seconds, before you blink, sigh, and follow after the three.

Apparently these jackasses have never heard of stranger danger, And you don't want to pay the price for that. You really should have stopped talking to them after The first semester.

You walk through a hallway, out a back door, In spot a glimpse of Brian entering a mechanic shop. By the time you show up they'd already snapped their beers open. The Clerk pays the seat next to him and grins. “Pop a squat!”

You think over all your options.

Sit next to a stranger, Drink, and hope he's not a crazed serial murderer

Sit next to a stranger, don't drink, and hope he's not a crazed serial murderer

Run, leave Tim and Brian, and hope you're not blamed for whatever happens to them

You bite the bullet and go with option two. You drag your feet over to the bench, and slowly slide next to the stranger. You glance at Tim and Brian but they're eyes are closed while they greedily gulp down their wheat juice.

The man next you you offers you a bottle, but you hold up your hand “No thanks, Not a beer guy.”

Tim slams down his now empty bottle, why he polished it off so fast you don't know, but he shouts at you “Boooo, you whore!” the man and Brian chuckle but you just don't say anything.

They start with small talk, you learn that the Stranger's name is Bo, he owns the gas station and the Mechanic shop. Useful information at least, but you also learn that Tim and Brian are dumber than you thought. They talk about where they currently live, Brian even went ahead and gave out his street’s name. They go as far and tells Bo where you're all headed and where you'll be staying.

You want to slap them silly, but hold back. They might as well hand the motherfucker a map.

It's when Tim decides to grab his third bottle that you stand up. “Okay, I'm sorry Sir, but we need to leave or will miss our hotel reservation.”

Tim and Brian give you a mean look, but couldn't care less. Bo on the other hand, just sighs sadly and stands up too. “I understand, clean up and I'll walk ya back to your car.”

You're a little shocked at how easy Bo took it, but you still can't shake an uneasy feeling. You help toss away the empty bottles and start walking towards the exit. When you don't hear footsteps behind you, you turn to look at your passengers but they're still sitting at the table. “We don't want to leave, we'll just move the reservation.”

You glare at them menacingly. “If only that's how reservations work.” Your voice drops a bit and your words turn sour. “We. Have. To. Go.” Brain's nose scrunches while Tim's Lip curls. They move slowly and stiffly, but stand up and start walking to the exit.

You mentally cursed everyone out and dreaded the cross country ride even more. You can already hear the bitching and tantrum adjacent huffs. But the relief of being away from this place is downright euphoric.

Just as you breathed in your relief, a big, dirty white truck starts pulling into the gas station. As it got closer your hit with a horrid smell. And you know you're not The only one because right from behind you someone gags.

The truck pulls in and Bo hussles over to the driver's side window. They have a conversation you can't hear and after just two minutes the truck pulls out and drives away.

With the same charismatic smile he lightly jogs back over to your group. “Sorry ‘bout that gang” he beams. You want to ask a few burning questions, but you also want to get out of there as fast as possible, So you hold your tongue.

“Oh no, it's fine. We're leaving anyway!” You smile and nod. Bo digs his hands into his pockets and sighs sadly. That cues Brian to defend him “God, you're being such an ass to a guy that's been more than nice to us this whole time!”

Your body heats up and your eyes begin to twitch. You take a deep breath to try to calm yourself down, but it doesn't work. All you're trying to do is look out for these idiots, try to stay on time for a vacation they wanted to go on, and remind them of stranger danger.

But before you can spit out your heated response, Bo cuts in “Awe thanks man” he pause for a few seconds “Almost makes me feel bad for what imma bout to do.” Before anyone can react Bo pulls a large hunter's knife out from his pocket, grabs Brian's hair, and slits his throat.

The sight is gruesome. Brian tries to form words but only bursting bubbles of blood spill from his lips. The dark crimson spilling down his shirt and seeping into the fabric. It spreads like an infectious disease, and in a certain way it looks like one. Brian drops to his knees and looks up at you.

You can only imagine what he's thinking.

He desperately tries to stop the bleeding by wrapping his hands around his throat, But the blood persists. its stains his hands and trickles through his fingers. And finally with one last burst of blood from his mouth, He drops onto the floor. His limbs twitch but only for a few moments before finally all going limp.

Tim stumbles backwards and bumps into you. “What- what the fuck man!” He yells desperately. Tim flails one of his arms back to grab you, pulling on your other arm.

Bo lunges at both of you, But you're able to pull both you and Tim away. You run in the direction you saw the truck go, hoping to find the driver and get help.

You listen as three sets of footprints smash against the gravel in a desperate run. You know not to look back, that'll only slow you down. By now Tim has let go of your arm and it's just a few steps behind yours.

You listen to him pant and wheeze as the air is squeezed from his lungs. He's not used to running. He's never been a running type of guy. You've seen his fitnessgram Pacer test He typically only makes it to lap five. You curses and athleticism but only for a few moments, You're not a star athlete either. You may have lasted longer in those tests, but not that long.

Finally you spot the truck parked in front of a house. “Almost there Tim!” You shout to him for reassurance. He continues to wheeze but you know he acknowledged you. With just a few more pushes you finally make it to the steps of the house. You sprint up the wooden staircase, jump onto the deck, and start desperately pounding at the front door.

“LETS US IN, LETS US IN!” You cry while beating both of your fists on the metal door. It only takes a few seconds for the door to swing open. A man with a cleft lip stands before you, He goes to ask a question but you don't let him answer. You shove him aside, pull Tim in, and slam the door behind you.

“What the hell are you to doin’?” The man asks with some upset in his voice. You take a second study his face, He has short brown greasy hair, brown almost black eyes, a cleft lip, and the ghost of a beard and mustache. he's wearing filthy clothes, a baseball cap, And a dog tag necklace.

“That man out there killed their friend!” Tim tells him in despair. “Please sir we need help!” He begs.

The man stares at you two like Tim has two heads and you grew six arms. He licks over his right canine tooth before smacking his lips and nodding “Okay…I'll help ya…here.” He points to a rickety wooden door. “I'll distract him, You guys go hide in my basement.” He looks over his house real quick and nods to himself, Then turns back to look at you too “It's real dark down there…If you hear some shuffling it's because I got an old dog down there. She overheats easily and needs to cool off.”

You don't care. You rip open the door and practically fly down the stairs with Tim following.

Your feet hit the cement and your legs finally go weak. Your knees hits the floor and your shoulders slump in relief. Tim also finds himself on the floor. You finally get a second to breath and reflect.

You praise yourself for a few seconds for your instincts being correct, Just as quickly your formulating an escape plan. You take a half of air, sit up, and look around.

The basement is dark, damp, and ominous. So like most basements in the world, but in the dark you catch the glimpse of a door frame.

Bingo

Just as you breathed a sigh of relief, The basement door whips open. A man starts descending the staircase rapidly, while you can't see his face you can see the outline of his body.

Bo

You and Tim shoot up from You're kneeling positions. You grab Tim's arm and rip him across the basement and into the door. You hear both slinging curses your way and letting out frustrated roars.

You slam the door behind you. You heard a thump as Bo seemingly couldn't slow down and hit his face against the wooden door.

You look around the new room and discover it's lit by candlelight. The glow of the light is ominous but you can't relish in it now. You spot another door frame and bolt to it. Bo kicks open the door And once again starts chasing you and Tim.

You feel the air shift around your back as Bo takes a slash at you. The slash to your back sends another surge of adrenaline through your veins, and you're able to push you and Tim through the door before Bo can make it behind you.

You slam the door behind you and lock it. You take a look around your environment while you greedily suck in air.

A sad green light illuminates the room. A simple bed, a desk with random art supplies strewn about. It's quite pathetic For what you assumed to be a bedroom?

Just as you come to that conclusion Bo finally busts through the door.

“Now I'm getting sick of you!” You go to run away but are suddenly shoved forward and claps to the floor with the murderer beneath you.

Both you and Bo grunt When you hit the cold, hard, tiled floor. Clumsy feet scamper away and deeper into the bedroom. The air freezes. Time stops. Realization hits you like a truck.

Tim just pushed you.

Tim just sacrificed you to get away.

Bo gives you a strange look, not one of murder or hate, but one of surprise and shock. He also didn't see that coming.

You push off of him and turn your head in the direction the coward fled. It's silent, but only for a couple of seconds. Tim lets out a scream of terror as he comes barreling back towards your direction.

A huge hand stops and grabs him. A huge man with a strange mask slams a knife down onto Tim's chest, repeatedly.

Tim spits out blood in a similar fashion Brian dead. The cool blade rips through his skin over and over again. His blood spills to the floor in red, splattering waves.

After about 8 stabs a big man lets Tim go. And like a rag doll Tim crumples to the floor.

You look back at Bo looking for a reaction “Well that was something.” he grins. He moves out from Under you and leans on his side next to you. He seems to want to go on some cocky lecture but you stop him.

“Thank you…”

Bo makes a dramatic shocked face “Excuse me?”

You repeat yourself “...Thank you…” The charismatic man seems completely shocked by your gratitude, He looks towards the larger man, Who even though behind a mask, looks equally shocked.

Your eyes light up looking at the masked man “I hated those two, I'll give it two guesses why.” You sigh and lean your head onto the ground.

“Yeah they're kind of…. Wrong in the head.” Bo sympathizes.

“They're dumb, or, were dumb.”

Bo let's out wild laughter “That's a nice way of putting it!” bone stands up and offers you a hand. “Tell you what, We call it even.”

You look at him confused “what even?”

Bo smiles that charismatic smile that got you here in the first place “You wanted them gone, We wanted more statues. We both say nothing and move on with our lives.” You take his hand cautiously and stand up.

The man with a cleft lip slowly enters the room with a curious look. “We, meaning you three?”

“We what?” The man asks.

Bow disregards the man entirely “Deal?” He devilishly smiles. You think for a second, But come to the conclusion that this is ultimately the best option. Still holding his hand you shake it in confirmation and nod.

The larger man comes closer to you, and into the light. He looks you up and down before disappearing for a few seconds.

When he emerges again He's holding a first aid kit. He gently offers it to you, gesturing towards your back. “Awe, Vincent. You big softie!” Bo teases the man.

The man, Vincent, ignores Bo entirely and shuffles you towards the bed. Bo huffs at the disregard and gets a little angry “I'm hurt too, Asshole!”

Vincent looks over his shoulders and points at the other skinny man. A silent ‘ask him’ annoys Bo enough to leave.

Vincent sits you down and sits behind you. He opens up the kit, takes out a sterilized napkin and rubs it all over his hands. He just tosses it aside and gently pulls at your shirt, asking you to lift it.

You hurriedly lift your shirt so he can clean you up.

He works quickly and gently on your wound. His large fingers work diligently while the adrenaline finally dies down. The wound burns and stings, but he's soft with you.

The three of them switch up fast.

Bo being friendly, killing Brian, then being friendly to you.

The strange man Helping you but turning out to be working with them.

And finally Vincent, Killing Tim brutally but being very gentle with you.

A whole family of whiplash.

Finally Vincent busts out the bandages and wraps you up. His large hands gently glides around your back and chest. Something Sparks in your brain, and you get hyper focused on his breath. A sharp contrast to yours. You're still sucking in air while he is softly breathing.

When he's done he stands up and starts cleaning up the supplies. As long as you can dodge their wrath, it probably won't be bad.

Thanks for reading <3

So sorry this took so long! It takes me a much longer time writing one shots then headcannons :(

Also I kind of sort of lost the plot towards the end, sorry about that......¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

@hornyslasher