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loafgeto · 2 months

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FANTASIZE — 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. gojo satoru

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ having sexual fantasies about your landlord seems illegal, but what can you do when it’s gojo satoru?

⌗contents ⤥ fem!reader, she/her pronouns, explicit language used, landlord!gojo, no curses au, gojo and reader are in their 20’s (range not specified), masturbation (gojo catches you), pussy hungry gojo, oral, unprotected p in v sex, orgasms, creampie, deep penetration, pet names, not proofread

⌗wordcount ⤥ 4.7k

⌗notes ⤥ i literally thought abt this while on the toilet

finally, after a long and exhausting shift, you finally arrived back home. you were standing outside of the gates that lead into the apartment complexes, showing the security guard your identification before being allowed inside. you were tired and hungry, thinking about what to cook once you got into your home.

just as you’re reaching your apartment complex, you pass through the play area built for the children, and you notice a tall, white-haired man standing by a bench while a young child is running around with another on the playground. your heart stops when you realize it’s your landlord, gojo satoru.

while he was on the phone, you notice another man sitting on the bench, his dark hair nearly blending in with the night. you gulped, hoping to walk by without getting caught by either of them. why? because— you haven’t paid your last months rent.

you promised satoru you’d pay, but the next rent payment was due in a week and you hadn’t even sent him money. satoru didn’t bother with it during the first two weeks, however— he became impatient and was slowly demanding you pay the rent. even the co-landlord, suguru, was reminding you but rather, in a more gentle manner.

as you quietly passed by, one of the children spotted your presence. “oh! miss [name]!” the young megumi shouts out, putting the unwanted attention onto you.

oh… megumi, why?! you cursed mentally at yourself and made a quick hesitating expression before forcing a sweet smile and turning around. by that time, megumi and the other child, yuji, had jumped off the playground to greet you. they both approached you with their cute giggles, each hugging one of your legs. “megumi, yuji! what are you guys doing out here?”

“gojo and geto-san let us play outside for a little bit!” megumi answers when looking up at you. nodding, you glance at the two other men, who were deliberately surveying you— especially satoru. you clear your throat and look down at the two kids again.

“can we come to your house on saturday, miss [name]? i wanna bake cookies and watch pokemon again!” yuji questions, jumping up and down slightly.

“o-of course.. just make sure you guys get permission from your dad’s!” you reply, maintaining your smile as they pushed themselves off your legs. “i have to get home super quick now, ‘kay? just let me know by tomorrow.”

“okay, miss [name]!” they both cheered happily at the same time before scurrying back to the two men.

therefore, you took that as an opportunity to leave quickly and back to your apartment. when you arrived, you quickly unlocked the door and entered, nearly sinking to the ground. a smile slowly crept on your face and you slipped off your shoes before walking further into your home.

you glanced at the ground, noticing your broken vase was still scattered to pieces. you sigh, remembering your purse accidentally knocked it over and since you were rushing to work, you decided to clean it up once you got home. grabbing a broom from the kitchen, you swept it to the side by the wall, figuring you would gather it into the trash later.

after changing into something more comfortable, you went to brush your teeth and get ready for the night. a smile was still on your face, and well, the reason was simply because of satoru.

three months ago, you were apartment hunting after saving so much money— one of your work friends suggested you to tour an apartment from a landlord named gojo satoru.

the apartments he owned were absolutely marvelous and in your price range. but what even tempted you to sign rental agreement was satoru himself. he was someone everyone wanted: he had handsome features, a perfect build, an alluring voice, and most all, earned loads of money. to others, it was obvious that you had a huge interest in him, but it’s gotten to the point where you began developing feelings— way too much feelings. so much that you began fantasizing about him everyday.

it started off as fantasizing going on romantic dates with him— eventually to getting married, having kids, being the mom to little megumi. eventually leading to fantasizing you underneath him, holding him as he fucks into you. most would think it was absurd— to be obsessing over your own landlord who dislikes you at the moment.

but you liked the attention you were receiving from satoru. you two interacted many times before, but that’s mostly because of megumi. the child often ran into you, eventually getting close enough to where satoru allowed him to go to your house to bake cookies or for you to babysit. however, when you missed your first rent, satoru had came to your place— which, caught you by surprise, you thought he’d bring megumi but he was all by himself.

therefore, you intentionally pretended to forget to pay your rent, even though you did actually have the money to pay. of course, you were going to pay eventually, just so you don’t lose your apartment, but you were keeping up the act due to satoru’s appearances nearly everyday— demanding you to pay your rent. he’s gotten slightly aggressive over the past two weeks, but it never necessarily bothered you.

you pretend to avoid him, while still try to be around him. it was weird, maybe, but when you have a crush on someone, you usually end up doing things you don’t normally find yourself doing.

after getting into bed, you relaxed and got comfortable— but you feel as if you needed something else to cool your mind: thinking about satoru.

you felt lazy to grab one of your vibrators, so you decided to use your hands, imagining as if it was satoru’s instead.

“gojo, gojo, can i pleaseeee go to miss [name]’s house on saturday? pleaseeee,” megumi was whining to satoru repeatedly as they were heading back to their home. after saying their good nights to yuji and suguru, megumi just couldn’t shut up about you.

satoru was helping megumi get ready for bed, but the kid just couldn’t sleep until he said yes. and if satoru didn’t say much less of a no, or a simple no, megumi would throw a tantrum. satoru honestly didn’t know how to calm the child down whenever that occurs, so he makes sure to answer properly.

“maybe if she pays her rent, you can go,” satoru smiles at the kid, realizing his words slipped out without care.

“she did pay it! you just don’t check!” megumi pouts.

“oh megs, please just go to sleep. i’ll think about it tonight,” satoru replies with a sigh as he stands from kneeling beside of the bed and walks towards the door.

“nooo!! i wanna go, please!!” megumi begs, nearly crying at this point.

“gosh.. why are you so stubborn at this age,” satoru shakes his head as he was about to walk out. “fine, fine! you can go! just go to sleep, it’s late and if you don’t wake up in time tomorrow, you will not go, understand?”

suddenly, little megumi’s demeanor changed completely. he was now bubbly, smiling like crazy before getting comfortable underneath his blanket. “thank you, gojo! can you please go tell her that you said yes! i will tell yuji tomorrow, i’m so excited!” and without anything else, megumi was able to fall into a slumber.

satoru sighs yet again, shutting off the lights of megumi’s room before closing the door. honestly, he didn’t know what to do anymore, but he was glad megumi found company in someone else other than him— not that he does. satoru decides to flip through files, rental agreement files.

and of course, he stumbles upon yours. along with the papers that wrote payment overdue. satoru was pissed, to say the least.

satoru was lenient the first time, almost to the point of considering to not have you pay the rent— because, well, he also has an interest in you. his feelings began developing the day you both encountered, and he remembers trying so hard to get you to like the apartment. you both exchanged contacts that day once you signed the rental agreement, but it was nothing more than that. it initially surprised him when megumi asked to go to your place the first time, he hadn’t known then that you two were slowly becoming close as you’re adjusting to the new environment. but he shortly felt as if this was an opportunity for him to get closer with you.

now, they’re are definitely times satoru wanted to straight up say he had a fat crush on you, keeping it behind his mouth felt as if he was in high school again— however, he just couldn’t get the courage. he didn’t understand why, and most of the time, megumi would be cutting him off and grabbing your attention.

a few weeks ago, satoru was coming home with megumi, after picking him up from school. carrying the kid on his shoulders, megumi was saying this and that about wanting to visit your place. satoru was going to say yes, until: he detected you with someone else.

and that someone else ended up being suguru.

you both were chatting casually, it seemed you had also returned from work and stopped by to chat with suguru while little yuji was running around the playground with another child. watching at how you two interacted triggered satoru— the way you two smiled and laughed together, the way you tapped his arm when he said something that made you laugh. suguru was much bigger than he was, and definitely had more of the ladies’ attention.

however, in hindsight, satoru mistook your gestures and friendliness towards suguru as having feelings for him instead.

therefore, satoru suddenly became harsher towards you— but only because he was jealous of suguru and believing you liked him instead. even though his best friend didn’t show any display of affection towards you, satoru remembered the first impression you gave to suguru: “she’s pretty,” he complimented, but nothing else.

honestly, satoru felt quite immature to act like this. you weren’t even his girlfriend and even if you did like suguru, there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

satoru walked to his room, feeling utterly exhausted but still reached for his coat. as megumi wanted, he was going to deliver the message about him being allowed to go to your house on saturday to you, as well as remind you again about the rent.

the walk took no less than five minutes, though satoru often paused his steps or made circles because he felt anxious seeing you. of course, earlier he did see you when the kids were greeting you, but you barely even looked at him: at least, that’s what he perceived.

and when satoru approached the front of your door, he began anticipating as he hesitantly raises his hand to knock on the door. he leans back slightly, biting his lower lips as he thinks about what to say once you open the door. ‘hey, just wanted to say that megumi can—’ no, that wasn’t a good idea, he thought. ‘it’s time to pay your rent—’ well, not that either.

satoru shook his head, trying to surpass the feelings of nervousness before knocking on the door. and well, he must’ve knocked way too hard since the door cracked open. he stood there puzzled, and for a moment, he thought you were already on the other side. but realizing it was silent, he pushed the door open.

the first thing satoru noticed was the broken vase on the floor, causing his eyes to widen. did someone break in? is someone threatening her, is that why she can’t pay rent? dozens of thoughts were processing through his head as he enters further into your apartment, swallowing hard as more anxiety crawled up his back.

“[name]?” satoru calls out, and when you didn’t answer, he panicked even more. were you hurt? did something else happen here that he couldn’t grasp? satoru knew you lived alone, often inviting several friends or family members over but there was never anyone who looked threatening or intimidating to cause harm.

your apartment was clean, even though there were boxes and other things stuffed in corners and shelves, and there were no signs of any other damage aside from the broken vase. pulling out his phone, he readied to dial anyone. satoru was approaching your room at that point, bottled in his own thoughts as he looked around— he stands ahead of your bedroom door, realizing it was slightly cracked open, enough to where you can see the bed.

however, what satoru’s eyes laid upon was something unexpected.

the sight of you lying back on your bed, thighs spread open with your panties and underwear pushed down to your ankles, soft moans circulating the room caused blood to rush quick to satoru’s dick. while you were in your own world, satoru had been worried that something terrible might’ve happened to you. but you were just.. masturbating?

“f-fuck.. satoru..”

satoru’s eyes widened more when he hears you call out his name, causing his heart to thump and cheeks to burn red. were you imagining him right now? were you thinking about him touching you like that? the tightness of satoru’s pants began to poke out, throbbing nearly in pain as he watches you pleasure yourself because of him.

“need you to fuck me.. please..” your pleas and whines reached satoru’s ears like a melody, and he swore he could cum just by the sound of your pretty voice.

was this how you sounded like? was this how you moaned his name? it was driving satoru mad, making him want to push that door open and fuck you just like how you wanted. but, he felt like a creep— just standing there and watching.

satoru continued to watch you pleasure yourself before getting lost in his own thoughts, not remembering his phone in his other hand and dropping it to the ground. the loud thud causes the two of you to snap back into reality— sending you into an alert state and satoru into a panicked one. he cursed himself under his breath as he tries picking up his phone to quickly scatter out, but by now, you were already by the door.

“who’s there—?!” you nearly shouted, ready to attack and defend yourself against the person. but you were caught by surprise when you made eye contact with satoru.

the room became silent, as you both awkwardly stood and stared at each other for who knows how long. the embarrassment immediately got back to you, causing your face to burn and you could barely even formulate a proper response as satoru rubs the back of his neck.

“g-gojo…” you anxiously let out, averting your gaze in another direction. you could barely look him in the eyes.

“i didn’t mean to watch- or, i mean disturb you. i came at a wrong time, i’m sorry,” satoru slips out the response, also looking elsewhere while glancing back at you several times.

“you were watching..?” your face shoots up and satoru’s face nearly went pale.

“i- i just wanted to let you know that megumi is allowed to come over saturday, he wanted me to deliver the message!” satoru switches the topic as you avoid eye contact with him again.

“oh… i see,” you reply. the atmosphere was severely awkward, and you both didn’t know what to exactly or utter. “guess—”

“need help?” he blurts, eyes lowering back to you.

“help?” your eyes remain wide in shock and you can feel your heart pulsate quicker, nearly making your legs weak. you try to avoid gazes with him, but satoru reaches for your wrist just to get your attention.

satoru can feel his dick throb knowing that your needy pussy was underneath those tight shorts of yours, being forced to act normal when rubbing your thighs together out of embarrassment. he only imagines how wet you are— no, to feel how wet you are, to really know what kind of filthy girl you are. it was turning him on, and it was obvious from the bulge in his pants.

“i mean, from the way you were moaning my name, i figured you did,” satoru replies in a hushed tone, sending chills down your spine.

the moment was cut short when satoru leans in to kiss you, shocking you even more, but you instantly melted into his lips. you kissing him back with immense passion drove satoru insane, now that he figured out he had been the one all this time. he pushes his tongue pass your lips and into your mouth, hungrily searching for your tongue. you both share several soft groans before satoru grinds himself against you, allowing you to feel his erected dick.

“feel that?” satoru whispers when he leaned his head back to catch a quick breath, only receiving a small nod from you. “‘m so fucking hard, just because of you. gonna do something about that?”

“mhm.. of course..” you shyly replied, looking up at him with those nubile eyes.

you eventually find yourself on top of satoru, completely undressed aside from your soaked panties. you were facing his hard cock that was still being suffocated underneath his pants, meanwhile, satoru was beginning to tease your clothed clit with his middle finger. it made you whine, since you haven’t felt another’s touch in so long.

satoru pushes the material of your underwear to the side, getting a good view at your soaking cunt just dying to have someone’s cock drilled inside. “so pretty ‘nd perfect,” he whispers, his breath softly blowing against your clit.

“o-oh.. satoru,” you moan, feeling his tongue lap over your slit.

satoru circles his tongue around your clit, sucking it several times before working around your wet folds and pushing slightly pass them into your sopping cunt. you can feel ecstasy pump throughout your entire body, all just from his tongue.

“fuck.. your tongue- feels s’good..” you utter through your soft moans. “always fantasized you eating my pussy out like this.. a-ah..”

“yeah?” satoru hums, bringing a finger to rub circles on your clit while his tongue messily explored your cunt, licking and slurping all of your arousal that gradually coated down to his chin. your words dumped roughly on him, making his dick throb. “fucking hell. suck me off too, angel. need to feel your mouth around me.”

you push satoru’s pants down, along with his boxers that immediately causes his cock to spring out. you hold a breath as you take his length into your hand, watching as his pre-cum leaked out. you start with a lick around his tip, gathering the pre-cum on your tongue and earning a soft grunt against your pussy from him.

pushing your head down, you begin winding your tongue around his girth, sucking several times while pumping the rest with your hand. satoru’s cock twitches several times, nearly becoming sensitive under your touch and warm mouth. he proceeds to fuck your pussy with his tongue, thumbing your clit that causes your moans to vibrate around him.

“mm- ‘toru-”

“hush, baby. ‘ts okay, don’t want ya to choke. unless you like that,” satoru whispers, sinking his tongue into your pussy again, trying to slurp up all of your wetness. his nose easily brushes against your aching hole, sending you waves of pleasure.

you push satoru’s cock further into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, trying to maintain a pace. you could barely focus due to satoru’s tongue lapping your vulva and folds, inching into your cunt as if he’s marking as his territory. the tip of his cock softly slams against your throat, slowly pooling your eyes with tears.

“don’t forget to breathe, baby. oh fuck- keep sucking my cock like that- mhm- good girl,” satoru praises, grunting as he feels your mouth taking almost all of him. you could barely even handle it, yet you’re trying so hard— it was amusing, in a cute way.

your muffled moans sync with the sloppy sounds of your cunt being lavished with satoru’s tongue, the pad of his fingers rubbing your clit faster and causing you to reach an orgasm. grinding your hips slowly on satoru’s face was enough to tell him that, and he uses his other hand to slap the fat of your ass, eventually gripping it.

“gonna cum, baby. s-shit, in your mouth?” satoru glances at you, noticing you were bobbing your head as a response.

when satoru’s warm cum shoots into the back of your throat, it causes you to orgasm at the same time. your legs twitch from the sensations, but capturing his load was the main thing occupying your mind. you’d never thought you’d be situated with satoru like this— it’s just as if your fantasies are becoming a reality.

swallowing his cum, you push your head away and inhale several breaths while coughing lightly. shortly enough, you feel satoru pulling you back against him and turning your head. after sharing a long and sloppy kiss, he pins you on the mattress, spreading your thighs apart so that he’s in between them.

from what you could see, he was still hard. very hard. his aching tip was pressed against your entrance, teasing your clit and making you whimper. glancing up at him, you could see his flushed face— full of energy, arousal, and passion.

“d-do we need lube?” you innocently inquired, which choked a soft chuckle from satoru.

“not at all, baby. you’re so wet. feel that? feel how wet you are?” satoru hums when he guides his tip along your wet entrance, hoping it’d be an enough of a satisfying answer. you only nod, giving satoru a look and he reassures you with another kiss. “i’m gonna put it in now. tell me if it hurts, ‘kay?”

“‘kay..” you nod, biting your lower lips.

satoru groans as he inserts his cock past your folds, pushing your walls apart that clenches around him each time he inched deeper. you gasped as both hands went around his biceps and your fingers press into the skin, notably marking the area. your walls fluttered around him, accepting his thick and hard cock so earnestly.

“feel okay, love?” satoru questions, glancing down at you.

“mhm.. i’m okay, ‘toru..” you reply, indicating for him to move.

satoru slowly begins to move his hips, groaning at the feeling of your pussy when his cock slips in and out. for you, his cock was already kissing your most sensitive places that had moans fall from your mouth constantly. satoru gropes one your breast, pinching the nipple with two fingers as he nudges your deepest parts.

“f-fuck! satoru- your cock feels soso good-” you cry out when his pace fastens, nearly having your eyes roll back.

so, this is how her pussy feels like? satoru was lost in his own mind, lost in the feeling of your pussy. he was already addicted, wanting to be inside you forever and be able to dump his cum into you. to him, you’re perfect: everything about you is. he loved the feeling of your soft and delicate skin rubbing against his own, aside from your pussy kissing around his cock.

“you fantasize about this too, angel? fantasize about my cock fucking into your pussy like this?” satoru huffs as his thrusts initially became quicker— rougher, nearly filling you entirely up.

“yes! yes, ‘toru. always fantasizing about it.. about you- ngh..”

you could feel a knot slowly forming in your core as his cock continues to stimulate pleasure to your pussy. you could care less about the neighbor’s ears, knowing that another tenant’s room was on the other side of your headboard. as of right now, your landlord was fucking you, just like how you’ve always imagined about. the fact turned you on even more.

satoru groans, now pounding his cock into you, deep to the point it’s kissing your womb. the sound of skin slapping circulating the air along with your moans, making the room scream perfect sex. satoru presses a finger against your lips, signaling you to lower your voice when loud knocks on the wall is heard, telling you both to shut up. but how could you?

“i can’t- ‘toru. feels so good- ‘ts too much-” you cry out, bringing his finger into your mouth and swirling your tongue over.

“naughty girl. you really want to get a noise complaint, don’t you?” satoru chuckles, before throwing both of your legs over his shoulders. well, since he’s the landlord he could just dismiss the complaint whenever it came through.

“want them to know- how good you fuck me.”

and how could satoru deny such request? wrapping his hands around your thighs and pushing them against his chest, he pummels his cock deeper into you, getting screams out of your mouth. your breasts bounced each thrust, matching the gentle slams of the headboard ramming into the wall.

the angle of the position allowed satoru’s cock to perfectly grind against your g-spot, which is already sending you towards your next orgasm. his balls slaps against your vulva as he penetrates his cock deeper and deeper, feeling your walls clench around him each time.

you don’t know how long it’s been until you’re on your knees and hands, ass in the air as satoru fucks you from behind after another orgasm. gripping onto the sheets, you repeatedly cry out his name, just to feel his dick twitch inside of you.

“you’re such a perfect girl, you know that?” satoru proceeds to blurt out compliments, caressing your skin and pressing soft kisses on your shoulder blades to your neck. right now, he was just grateful that it’s him— that he is the one able to do this with you.

“sa-satoru— ngh- i’m cumming-”

satoru was close to cumming too. he wanted to dump his next cum load into you, stuff you up to the brim and feel you milk him dry. “cum on my cock, baby. c’mon,” he encourages, pushing your hips back with both of his hands as you reach your climax.

“cum in me, ‘toru! pleasee!” you cry out next, turning your head to make eye contact with him.

satoru’s eyes wide at the sight of your lewd expression, telling him to fill you up. and so he does. he does a final deep thrust, dumping his heavy and warm load all saved just for you. satoru feels your walls pulsate around him just before he slips his cock out.

from there, you both remain in silence once more, catching breaths before satoru collapses on top of you.

“three months..” satoru whispers against your ear, utterly confusing you.

“what?”

“i’ll give you three months free of rent, maybe more if you go on a date with me.”

“that’s not fair to the other tenants though.”

“they don’t have to know.”

you giggle, turning around so that you’re completely facing him. cupping his cheeks into your hand, you lean in to give him a kiss— a more subtle kiss. “alright then. a date is settled.”

as satoru entered his apartment, he was surprised to stumble upon— a rather, agitated suguru. arms crossed over his chest, it seemed as if satoru had done something to piss him off.

“sugu—”

“do you know how many times i’ve called you? 17 times! i even messaged you and you answered none of them!” suguru rambled and satoru easily noticed fumes erupting from his ears. “you should be grateful that megumi can take care of himself.. gosh, he’s only what? seven? i can’t believe you left him home alone. what if something bad happened?”

“look— suguru—”

“ugh, whatever. i made sure megumi got to school safely with yuji. make sure you pick them up later and drop them off at [name]’s house, we have a meeting this evening,” suguru cuts satoru off again as he grabs his coat, not leaving any room for satoru to explain.

“suguru—”

“why do you look like you just..” suguru pauses once he got a good observation of satoru’s appearance. “did you drink last night?”

“wh— what? ABSOLUTELY not!” satoru defends himself.

“uh huh.. hurry up and get ready,” suguru dismisses it once more before leaving the apartment.

well, guess satoru didn’t really need an explanation after all.

LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

a/n: me after using the word cock

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familyvideostevie · 5 months

Text

steel drum weight of me

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni

summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k

warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie

a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.

Jackson looks its best in the winter.

You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.

It's also fucking cold.

But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.

Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.

Things could be worse.

You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.

Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.

You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.

The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.

"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"

"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.

The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.

The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.

He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.

"How was the wall?"

"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"

"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"

He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."

You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.

"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.

"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.

"Hey now, what --"

You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"

He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.

The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.

And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.

It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.

"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.

"I'm fine --"

"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"

"I said I'm --"

"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.

"Alright," he says. "Move, then."

You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.

"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."

Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.

"What's it made of?"

"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."

He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."

You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.

"Cute."

"Gimme those hands, big guy."

The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.

"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"

"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.

"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."

He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."

You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.

And, boy, he touches you back.

So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.

Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.

"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."

"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.

"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."

"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"

You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.

"What? Can't hear over the water."

You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."

"Don't think that's what you said."

"It's what I meant."

And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.

"Alright," he says.

You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.

Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"

"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."

"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"

"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"

"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.

So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.

"You just gonna look at it?"

You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.

Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.

"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.

It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.

Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.

You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.

He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."

"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.

He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."

You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.

"So is that a no?"

You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.

"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.

"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.

"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.

Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.

You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.

"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."

He laughs.

His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.

"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"

"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"

"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"

His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.

Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.

You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Hell of a salve," he manages.

You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."

His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."

"You never stop, do you?"

Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."

You laugh into his neck. "Good."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction

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momotonescreaming · 1 year

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Modern au where Steve is a part time aquarium mermaid.

He's studying to be a marine biologist or something, living in a big city, loves swimming, loves the ocean, and leapt at the chance to work at his local aquarium. Even if most of his job is swimming around in a long, dark blue, mermaid tail. Merman tail? And honestly? He kind of loves it. He gets to swim amongst the tropical fish, gets to wave at kids and do tricks in the water. The aquarium discount is nice too.

Eddie always thought the ocean was cool growing up. It seemed freeing, even if he was never very good at swimming. When he was little, before he moved in with Wayne full time, apparently he had told his uncle he wanted to be a fish when he grew up. And being a poor kid in a landlocked state, he didn't exactly get the opportunity to go to the beach, or visit those big aquariums, and his interest in the ocean sort of stagnated there.

So when he got older, and him and Wayne moved to the city, his uncle got him an annual pass to the aquarium. And Eddie was going to make sure Wayne got his money's worth.

So on weekends off or afternoons after work, he'd go to the aquarium. Watch the penguins being fed, or the keeper talks in the otter enclosure. Walk through the tanks and watch the fish. And then at the end he'd sit on the bench by the huge tank they have with all the different sorts of fish in them. And he'd put on his headphones and listen to music, or pull out a notebook and work on a dnd campaign as he watches the fish.

One day, a gaggle of young kids rush in excitedly, chattering about how excited they are to see the mermaids. Eddie furrows his brow until he sees a person in the tank, peering around the coral and the rocks with his brown hair flowing around his head. He swims closer, and that's when Eddie sees the navy blue merman tail the guy is wearing. Hugging his legs, and blending in seamlessly with his waist. A girl swims out after him, in a matching pink tail and shell bikini top. They wave and blow kisses at the kids, doing twirls and flips and tricks.

And listen, Eddie's got eyes. The dude is hot as hell. Nice toned muscles, tanned skin dotted with moles, square jaw. He's exactly Eddie's type, but he's working, and in a fishtank, so Eddie sits and watches.

Eddie keeps visiting the aquarium in his free time, and by coincidence he keeps ending up in front of the tank when the mermaid and the hot merman is there. And the guy waves at him, and smiles, and Eddie shyly smiles back with a lil wave of his own. And Eddie swears it's almost like the guy is happy to see him. Not just putting on the act.

One day when the hot merman shows up, Eddie has been doodling fish in his sketchbook. And fuck it, he sketches the merman. He's hot and Eddie's an artist. Why not right? Only when he looks up, the merman is right up by the glass, watching him. They lock eyes, and the guy mimes at him in a watery version of charades. Are you drawing?. And Eddie nods, before taking a deep breath and flipping the sketchbook around so the guy can see. The merman squints as he looks before his eyes widen as he points at himself. You drew me?. Eddie nods again, blushing faintly, and watches as the guy gets all flustered and then pretends to swoon in the water. Eddie goes to sit back down and the guy swims off to get some air.

Later, Eddie's still drawing, listening to music on full blast through his headphones, completely in the zone, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He jumps, startled, and turns to see the merman in front of him, wearing jeans and a polo, looking a little sheepish. He apologizes for startling him, his name's Steve. And fuck, if he isn't prettier up close.

Eddie introduces himself, and the guy - Steve - asks him sort of sheepishly if he actually drew him? It was sort of hard to see through the water and the glass. Eddie says yeah he did, sorry if that's creepy, but drawing and watching the tank makes his brain quiet. It's calming.

And Steve says he get it. He gets Eddie. And they chat, and they flirt, and at the end, Eddie asks Steve if he wants to see the drawing, if he wants to keep it. And Steve light up, and he looks so happy, so before he can think to hard about it - Eddie writes his name and cellphone number on the bottom of the page - and rips it out and hands it to Steve.

And Steve beams.

#idk where this came from i wrote it in a fury at work and then forget about it #Steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #stranger things #mermaid steve harrington

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wearywinchester · 9 months

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Washed Away

Dean Winchester x Reader

Requested by Anonymous: “Hi 😊 Would you be willing to write a fluffy fic of the reader helping dean take a shower or the other way around?? Please?? No pressure though!!”

Summary: Dean helps you shower after a rough hunt.

Warnings: angst, injury, mentions of blood, language, implied nudity, fluff

Brutal.

That’s the only way you could describe the last two days. Absolutely, wholeheartedly brutal.

Hunting was supposed to be easy by now. It was supposed to be routine, motions and actions done without much thought at all behind them. It’d vary from hunt to hunt, monster to monster, but it’d all blend into the same thing when it came down to it.

But you were wrong, so beyond wrong this time. The hunt went a million miles south, headed towards disastrous and fast.

You couldn’t believe it even, but the way you’d been feeling since said hunt had you eventually believing that it actually was that bad. And the stings and burns of the injuries you’d sustained and walked away with had been plenty of a reminder that it was horrible.

You were practically thrown around like a damn rag doll by the seemingly demon ghost hybrid that really must’ve had it out for you. If the scrape to your cheek, the cut on your forehead and other miscellaneous bumps and bruises were of any indication that is.

But more importantly, you were rattled from it. So utterly spooked after having been by yourself for a large chunk of time while this entity tried its very best to make you terrified while Dean was losing his mind looking for you. You were so beyond upset and shaken, and the idea of doing anything by yourself, anything at all, sounded unbelievably undesirable, something that made your stomach churn at the thought.

And you hated it. You hated feeling helpless, or scared. It made you feel smaller than small and weak, even though it’s considered just the opposite. Nothing can break the stubbornness of your mind on the matter, yet you were too fear stricken, too tired and upset to give even half a damn about not wanting to do something so simple as to take a shower by yourself.

Dean didn’t know just how shaken up you were, just how awful you felt. How uneasy you felt within yourself, an unsettled feeling in the pit of your stomach that sent panic flurrying up into your chest at a near constant rate. You were scared, and he didn’t know how much.

He does, but you don’t know that.

He knows that as you sit on the bench in the bunker bathroom, watching as he turns the water on. He’s got two small piles of clothes folded on the counter. They practically looked identical, two sets of his own clothing. But he knows you, and he knows you prefer his clothing over your own.

It’s quiet save for the water splashing down against the tile and the clear of his throat, and you’re almost too wrapped up in your own little world to notice the green eyed hunter kneeling down in front of you. Didn’t notice till he tapped your knee.

“Showers almost ready, sweetheart,” he says, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards slightly in a soft half smile.

You simply nod, eyes flickering over his face as you sit before him. That look he gave you lingered, gentle yet worried all the same as you lift your hand. You run your hand through his hair briefly, smoothing it down to settle on his cheek. You felt the prickle of his stubble on your palm and shortly after you leaned forward, forehead pressed to his for a few moments.

You breathed in and held it for a second or two, releasing a heavy sigh through your nose, long and drawn out.

You felt the way he bumped your nose with his own, and you felt the way his hands rested around your ankles. You felt the way his breath brushed against your lips, warm and gentle, fleeting with every inhale. And you felt the way his thumbs brushed along your skin softly.

You dropped your hand and stayed there for a moment or two, eyes closed as you fidgeted with a button on his flannel. Eyes closed until you thought too much about that hunt and had to open them again as if it’d erase that fear, that feeling.

His warmth left you momentarily, his hands gliding up your calves, and you felt his kiss on your forehead before he stood to his feet.

You watched as he walked over to the shower and stuck his hand under the stream, watching his small nod of approval at the temperature before he turned back and walked to you.

“Water’s ready,” he murmurs, running a hand over your head as he looks down at you from where you sit.

You don’t quite look at him yet, looking around the rather spacious bathroom, at the shower as the water runs and pounds against the tile floor. After a few moments you turn your head and look up at him, his hand falling away.

You simply nod, shoulders slumped and you can’t help but notice that look he’s got on his face, the one that’s got all the empathy in the world. Dean Winchester might be incredibly rough around the edges, might be extremely gruff, but he was damn sure the sweetest and gentlest there could be. Contrary to popular belief.

But that side doesn’t show very often for just the average person.

“Want me to help?” He asks, and you nod again.

He drops to his knees, dropping a kiss to your forehead on the way down.

He tugs at the laces of your boots, working at the double knots you always put in. They were fairly loose this time, pulling the tattered laces free. He made a mental reminder to pick up some new ones for you.

He pulled at the tongues of your boots to loosen them some more, starting with one foot and pulling it off, then moving to the other. It was a relief to have those shoes off, feet feeling sore and overly warm, the material and soles unforgiving after a while.

He hooked his fingers in the ankles of your socks, pulling them off your feet. Another relief.

You sigh softly as he looked up at you, your pile of discarded clothes slowly building.

You stood up slowly, the soreness you felt having you scrunching up your face slightly. He worked at unbuckling your belt with ease, unzipping your jeans. He was careful as he slid them down, cautious of any scrapes or cuts he may not know about. He didn’t want to cause anymore hurt than you’d already been feeling. You put your hand on his shoulder as he bent down and helped you step out of them, tugging them from around your ankles.

He tossed the dirtied denim onto the pile, returning his focus back to you. His fingers found the bottom of your shirt, and you lifted your arms as he tugged the fabric up, the movement only worsening the soreness as you let out a soft whine.

It wasn’t until now that he saw the bruises that littered your thighs and your knees, you shins too. It wasn’t until then that he saw just how much damage was done by that damn demon ghost jerk that threw his sweetheart around like you weighed nothing at all. He saw it and it made him angry, a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach forming. He wished he would’ve made that monster suffer more before he ganked it.

He was quick to discard his own clothes, disregarding how sore he felt, and the few minor injuries of his own. He wanted to change before helping you out of your undergarments, didn’t want you to have to stand there and feeling as vulnerable as a person could feel. And he knew you were cold, could tell by the way you hugged his flannel around yourself tightly.

That pile of dirty clothes was larger now, and you shrugged off his flannel with a quiet breath, the chilly bathroom air sending shivers along your skin.

He was just as gentle to help you out of your undergarments, tossing them aside.

You made small steps towards the shower, the warmth of his hand on the small of your back having made that comforting feeling return to you.

The water was warm but not too hot as you stepped under the stream, though to fresh scrapes and cuts, it felt scalding and burning. He noticed the way you winced, and the way you pulled the affected areas away from the water momentarily. It sent a pang through him as he tugged the curtain closed, the chilly air stuck on the other side of it now rather than seeping in.

“You okay?” He asks, brushing wet strands of your hair out of your face and away from the wounds on your skin.

“‘M fine,” you say, looking up at him.

He didn’t believe it.

“Is the water too hot?” He asks, the pad of his finger brushing along the curve of your ear, his thumb swiping against your temple.

You shake your head, watching the way his eyes flicker back and forth between yours, the crease between his brows very much apparent. He was trying to read you, you knew that. And you also know he could probably see right through you, but that was no surprise. He knew you like the back of his hand.

He simply hums, those dimples appearing by the corners of his mouth ever so slightly.

His hair was flattened down by the water, brushing against the tips of his eyebrows. The lighting accentuated his freckles, pretty flecks the smattered all across the bridge of his nose and branching upward to his forehead in less noticeable speckles unless you were right up close. They went downward and dusted along his lips.

But they also dotted along his chest lightly, spreading over his shoulders, hidden under the tattoo on his chest. You traced your finger along it briefly before dropping your hand with a sigh.

His hands came up and smoothed your hair away from your face once more.

“Turn around, sweetheart,” he says, a gentle command.

You do so, watching his hand reach out beside you and snag the shampoo bottle from the shelf.

You hear the lid click open, and moments pass before you feel a polite tug on the ends of your hair, signaling you to tip your head back. You hear him set the bottle down, and it wasn’t long before you felt the coolness of the shampoo hit your scalp.

His fingers tangled in your hair and rubbed your scalp in soothing circles, working in the fresh smelling product, careful not to get too close to the cut on your forehead.

You were still very on edge despite the calming moment you were in right now, despite the man who would protect you from any and everything having been right there. You still felt unsettled despite being in a protected bunker that was always kept locked, safe from not only just the regular outside world, but the supernatural one too.

Fear still pulsed through you, that shaky feeling you had was still there and making you feel uneasy. It was still there and gripping you, demanding your focus no matter how hard you tried to move it elsewhere.

Dean noticed, of course he did. And when the pipes made the noises they make when the hot water runs through them, those damn old pipes, it nearly makes you jump out of your skin at the very sound of it. You’ve got to calm down and you know that.

You turn around, arms folded to your chest. The stream from the shower pushed your hair in your face now that your head wasn’t tipped back, and some of the shampoo had gotten into your cut and scrape, but you didn’t care so much about that as you did calming down.

“‘S okay, just you and me in here,” he murmurs, tipping your chin back slightly as he nods at you, making sure you’re understanding him.

You release a heavy exhale, some of your shakiness following with it as you mirror his nod, knowing that it’s silly to be scared right now. You’re in your home, your very well secured home, and you’re with Dean. There was absolutely no way anything could get you. You need to relax, so you tried your best.

That cut on your forehead stung from the soap, and he tipped your head back, working the product out of your hair until it’s fully rinsed out. He was ever so gentle, working with soft movements.

The pad of his thumb brushed over your forehead, brows narrowing at the sight of your injury. He was more than displeased, of course he was. The thought of any grimy monster—or anything— laying it’s hands on you made a certain anger bubble and sit heavy in the pit of his stomach. A rage.

His hand slid down and settled on your cheek, it’s calloused warmth far different and much better than the warm water of the shower that’d been washing over you.

His thumb caressed your cheek, a delicate motion. It was so grounding in the present moment, a moment where your mind was trying to be in a million different places at once. He knew that, could tell by the way your hands trembled, and the accidental frown on your lips. Could tell immediately.

His other hand settled on your other cheek, grabbing your face gently to kiss your forehead and then your nose.

“‘M gonna wash up, then we can head to bed. Okay, sweetheart?”

You simply nod.

He’s washed up in a matter of a couple minutes, clothes are on in another few. Everything was fresh and clean, the hunt washed away, the only thing having been left were the scars that came with it.

The sheets were clean, something Dean had a habit of doing before leaving for hunts. It was soft and familiar, warm and safe, much better than motel bed after motel bed. It was home.

You had to remind yourself of that, that you were safe and out of harms way. That you were home and comfortable, not stranded on a hunt with a monster on the loose and ready to hurt you.

“You thinkin’ again?” He asks several moments later.

You nod, a soft hum following it.

You hear his quiet chuckle, though there was no malice in it, no mocking. Just a knowing kind of laugh, because he knew you’re in your head more often than not.

But he simply pulls you closer from where he sits propped against the headboard, the tv playing softly from where it sits atop the dresser. You nestled in, tucked yourself in tight and tangled your legs with his, the warmth of the blankets and sheets incomparable to his body heat.

“Scooby’s on,” he shrugs, hiking you up to be closer to him.

“Mhm,” you hum.

You look up at him, all the love in your gaze as it flickers across his face until he meets your eyes. You lean up and kiss him, his stubble rough against your skin.

You lean over and kiss his cheek too before tucking your head in the crook of his neck, warm as ever as you nuzzled in close.

“I love you,” you whisper, unsure if it’d even be loud enough to hear.

But that kiss to your temple, the way he squeezed you closer, you knew he heard it.

—

Taglist: @harrysweasleys @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @deandaydreaming @agalliasi @malindacath @ajreturnstocringeyaccount @deanswaywardgirl @awkward-and-indecisive @drownthewitch @happyt0exist @sparkycorleone @humanmistakes @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @nyotamalfoy @elliewigginton20 @wandering-winchesters @senjoritanana

#dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester

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lxndonorris · 3 months

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badger workout - Daniel Ricciardo

Y/N x Daniel Ricciardo Theme: Smutish, Teasing, Touching you're aiding Daniel with his daily work out x word count: 1540+ taglist: @game-set-canet gif by me. open for requests :)

The morning sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room where you spent the night with your boyfriend, Daniel.

However, you find an empty space right next to you, where Daniel slept just moments ago. Then, your ears make out a distant yet familiar sound.

The faint sound of clinking weights and low groans echos through the hallway, drawing your curiosity. With a yawn and a stretch, you follow the rhythmic noise to discover Daniel's own little sanctuary—a home gym tucked away in a spare room.

As you approach, the intensity of the workout becomes more apparent. The scent of sweat lingers in the air, a testament to his dedication.

"Fuck." You hear him groaning loudly when you catch a glimpse of him bench pressing heavy weights through the slightly ajar door. His muscles flex with each controlled moment, showing off his athletic build, and his gym attire—a snug white shirt and short shorts—accentuates his sculpted physique, leaving you momentarily captivated.

You lean against the doorframe, silently admiring the focus etched on his face. The beads of perspiration glisten on his forehead, evidence of the effrt he pours into each repition. The play of muscles beneath his skin showcases the result of his consistent workout, and you can't help but marvel at the strength and determination he exhibits.

You enjoy how his body moves with every deep breath he takes, with every moan leaving his mouth, and the way his shorts just barely cover the tattoo on his thighs.

Lost in your thoughts, you continue to watch as he pushes himself further. The room resonates with the soft clinks of the weights meeting their metal counterparts. It was a mesmerizing symphony of dedication and resilience, a private performance speaking volumes.

Suddenly, he pauses mid-lift, and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. A mischievous smile formed on his lips as he set the weights back in their resting place. The playful glint in his eyes hints at the acknowledgement of your presence. Sweat drips down his face, yet his expression exudes a sense of satisfaction.

"Caught me in the act, huh?" he quips, his voice a blend of exhaustion and amusement. You can't help but smile in response, enjoying the view of him working out.

"It seems like it." You step into the room as he grabs the weights again, going for even more repetitions. "Need my help?"

Daniel stops again, looking at you, his expression a mixture of curiosity and excitement. "What do you have in mind?" The words fade into a low moan when you stand right next to him.

Locked in a gaze, the room seems to pulse with an electrifying tension. His eyes, deep and intense, meet yours with an unspoken anticipation.

A playful smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you climb on top of him, sitting down on his lap. Right away, he lets out a low groan, stops mid-lift, and leans his head back. His desire is building up inside his shorts, partly due to the workout and partly because of your presence.

"How about that?" You lean back slightly and run a hand down his thighs, tracing the outlines of his tattoo with your fingertips.

"That feels good." Daniel takes a deep breath and manages to set the weights back into their resting place before he lets out a long, low sigh.

Bending down, you run both of your hands across his chest, feeling his muscles tense even harder through his tight, wet shirt, making your way across his upper body until you reach his neck.

Meanwhile, he runs his hands through his curly, messy hair, steadying himself against the back of his head. "That's what I need." Daniel purrs happily, looking for eye contact again.

Your eyes meet, and the two of you are enjoying yourselves, with his eyes sparkling brightly through the dim light of the gym.

"I hoped so." Licking your lips, your face is now hovering just inches away from his, causing his eyes to wander all over you, from your eyes to your nose, your lips, and back to your eyes.

The room fades into the background, and all that remains are the magnetic currents pulling you closer. His hand gently cups your cheek, fingers tracing a delicate path. The warmth of his touch sends shivers down your spine, a tangible confirmation of your connection to him.

As your lips meet, the tension disperses into a surge of passion. His hands wander down to your back, stroking the small of your back while you grind your body against his—a sensational feeling.

With every little move, you encourage him to respond, either by him letting out a low, guttural moan or by his body growing stiffer and firmer, yet even then, it is good to be so close to him.

"Y/N." He growls deeply into your mouth, causing you to tilt your head to catch your breath just slightly. But Daniel just keeps going, placing kisses all over your neck, leaving your skin burning everywhere his warm, soft lips touch it.

Smirking, you run your hand across his chest again and again, stroking his pecs, his nipples, and his abs—just the way you did the night before.

"You're enjoying that, don't you?" You smirk, teasingly running a hand even further down his body, tracing the tangible outlines of his growing length bulging inside his tight clothes.

"Oh yeah." Daniel tries to hold back a long, loud moan, but he fails. "So good." Rubbing his face against your neck, he tries to regain his composure, but he is just going deeper into this state of blissful desire.

Your breath quickens when his hand reaches your arse, touching you firmly. He then rocks his hips against yours, sending rhythmic waves through every fiber of your body.

"That's one thing to wake up to." You bite your lower lip as your bodies move as one.

"I could do that every day." Daniel smiles, tilting his head toward yours to kiss you passionately. You embrace him fully, both of you exploring each other's bodies with your hands.

"We should get off the bench." He giggles, and that's when you remember where you actually are.

Carefully, you help one another get up, holding each other's hands.

"I think I need a shower." He smirks, sweat dripping down his entire body now.

His gym clothes cling to his sculpted form, accentuating the contours of his body. The now-tight shirt outlines the defined muscles of his chest and arms, while the shorts show off his huge thighs and his burning desire.

As he moves closer, each flex and contraction of his physique draws your attention. Gently, he lifts your chin with two fingers, and your eyes meet again. "Do you care to join me?"

His voice sounds so deep and alluring, giving you goosebumps.

"I would love that." You nod, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, leaving you through his house and into the bathroom.

Together, you undress each other, with Daniel taking the lead.

Lovingly, he removes one piece of clothing at a time. You're embracing his hands all over your body, down your back, along your arms, your thighs, and your breasts.

Once you're naked, he approaches you again, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing you longingly.

"Mhmm." You moan, but then you separate from him by pressing a finger on his lips. "Not so fast." Daniel smiles softly, kissing your finger instead. "First, we need this gone." You run a finger down his chest, through the visible outlines of his pecs.

Returning the favor, you caress his form, his broad shoulders, his firm chest, his back, and his thighs lovingly while you undress him. You love to trace the outlines of his beautiful tattoos, and he watches your fingers, entranced by your precise movement.

Subconsciously, he keeps fondling himself, feeling his body react to the slightest touch of your fingers. You can't help but notice it, making you smirk again.

"Feels good, huh?" You place your hand on his chest, moving rhythmically with every deep breath he takes.

"So good." He closes his eyes and lets out a low moan before regaining his composure and turning his head to meet your gaze.

With all of your clothes on the floor, you step into the shower. Daniel is standing right behind you, kissing your neck, his beard tickling you, while you turn the shower on.

Refreshing cold water pours all over you, sending shivers down your spine—the sensation of water on your skin—just what the two of you needed.

Daniel hugs you tightly from behind, kissing your neck and stroking your thighs. Giving in to his touch, you lean backwards against his firm chest, with him catching you easily.

His hands run down your back and your arms, seemingly tracing the countless drops of water leading the way.

"That feels good." You purr before turning around slowly, steadying yourself against his chest, and stroking him firmly.

Daniel smirks, "I think I need your help tomorrow, too," running his hands down your chest, along your waistline, and back to your arse, holding you in place.

"I insist." A playful smile spreads over your face as you lean in for another kiss.

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #F1 smut #Formula 1 smut

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lunajay33 · 2 months

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•🩰🎀🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

•Masterlist•

I’ve always wanted to dance, to strap on pretty pink ballet slippers and wear the tights and everything, ever since I was a little girl and first watch Swan Lake, watching how there was a light beautiful side but how also a dark side to a person it hooked me, but that dream was quickly crushed when my parents refused, saying they didn’t have enough money to put me in ballet because my older brothers football was more important and they couldn’t afford both at once

It’s always been like that, whatever my brother wanted he’d get within a reasonable price, but when I asked for the simplest things they would get mad and always turn me down, saying I should get a job if I ever wanted anything. So that’s exactly what I did, I got a waitressing job at the little diner in town, working after school and on weekends just hoping to be able to save enough for ballet classes, but balancing school and work everyday is exhausting and having a terrible home life ontop of that doesn’t help

My older coworker told me to make some friends and that might help things, help distract myself for a while and have a person to relay on for once but it wasn’t so simple, if you weren’t drop dead gorgeous, or had nice clothes and money in my school then the girls treated you like a ghost

So here I am sat at my usual bench under the wilting tree behind the school for lunch, sitting in the cafeteria all alone at a whole table felt pathetic, embarrasing, plus it was more comforting here, no pry judgemental eyes, plus the air out here smelt of fall, fallen crisp leaves, the towns forest right behind the school, it was comforting

I finished my lunch putting the book I was ready away in my bag and made my way back for my next class, biology and today we were getting a new seating arrangement, one I’ve been waiting for the whole month since I was sat next to one of the mean girls, I took my seat right as the bell rang

“Okay class today we are moving around, so find your spots” she said as she projected the new seating up on the board, I found my name at the second table to the back on the left, I made my way noticing I was sat with Daryl Dixon. He was quiet, usually kept to himself kind of like me, people would always talk bad about him but never dared say anything if his older brother was around, I remember the times my brother would complain about how obnoxious Merle Dixon was….as if he wasn’t the exact same

I plopped down next to him taking out my books and pencil case

“Hi”

“Hey” he said keeping his eyes on the table

That’s all we said to each other the whole period until the end of class

“Okay everyone, whoever you’re sitting with is now going to be your new lab partner, you’ll be working on this project together outside of class and it’ll be due at the end of next week, so I advise you figure out a time and place to work on this” she said as she handed out papers seeing it was a project on the cycle of frogs and their habitats

There was 10 minutes left in class for us to figure out how to get this project done, I turned in my seat looking at Daryl, up close I noticed he was actually kinda cute in a mysterious way

“Would you like to come to my house tomorrow so we can work on it?” I asked as tomorrow was Saturday

“Sure” I wrote down my address and gave it to him right when the bell rang

I was getting ready for Daryl to come over, I don’t know why I was so nervous maybe because I’ve never really had many people over and that my parents and brother were psychotic and mean and I didn’t want him to witness that. I looked in the mirror brushing out my hair that I’ve combed through a hundred times already, hoping my outfit was nice enough, a whiteish sweatshirt that had a hint of blush pink to it, paired with black leggings just wanting to be comfortable but hopefully still cute, that’s when I heard a knock at the door

“ILL GET IT!” I screamed not wanting anyone else to answer especially not my brother since he knew Daryl was Merle’s brother

I stood infront of the closed door huffing out a breath to calm my jitters, I opened it and there he stood, hands in pockets with his usual gruff demeanor

“Come in” I said stepping aside for him to come in

“Do you wanna work in my room?”

“Sure” he said as he kicked off his shoes

I lead the way to my room, it wasn’t a big house so it wasn’t like we had to go down hallways to get to my room, I closed the door when we got in as he dropped his notebook on my bed looking around my room which made me anxious, my walls had little framed photos of Swan Lake, little painting of ballet slippers, my room wasn’t much since my parents put so much into Jackson’s room but these photos were all I had to keep me happy

“Nice room” he said with a smirk

“You don’t have to lie” I said smiling as I crawled on my bed sitting up against the head board as he followed to sit at the foot of the bed

“I ain’t, it’s…..different, do ya dance?” He asked looking back to the pictures I adored

“No, I’ve always dreamed of it though”

He looked at me with a strange look I couldn’t read

“Well why don’t ya?”

“My parents won’t let me, said Jackson football is my important and will lead to something” I said shrugging my shoulders, if anyone could understand brother problems it would be him

His usual glaring eyes softened but I didn’t want the pity, I thought about my crushed dream enough I didn’t want to think about it more so I flipped open the text book to the section we needed and we got to work, it was silent for the most part and I welcomed it, until we took a break

“Merle says yer brother is always runnin his mouth, talks bad about ya” my heart thumped in my chest, Jackson could say anything about me and I’d have no way to deny it since no one really liked me and he had his whole football team full of guys who only thought with one thing

“What does he say?” I asked nervously

“Says yer a weirdo, says ya run around sleepin with every guy on his football team” my heart felt like it stopped and shrivelled up

“What……..I would never, I can’t believe he would say that, I don’t know why he hates me so much” I said as my bottom lip quivered try to control myself, not wanting to cry infront of him and make him uncomfortable

“Merle an I, we don’t believe ‘em……..plus it ain’t like everyone else in that damn school ain’t like that” he said looking back down at his note book, fidgeting with his pencil

“It would be better if I had friends that would believe me and be on my side” I said huffing a little sarcastic laugh

“I can be yer friend” he said so quietly I almost didn’t hear him

“You don’t have to pity me, I know you don’t like people” he looked back up at me with he glaring expression but for some reason it didn’t bother me

“I ain’t pitying ya, yer one of the few people that don’t annoy me at school, yer nice and keep to yer self” he said bluntly making my heart flutter

“Okay, I’d like to be friends then!” I said smiling as we both went back to work

After 2 hours of going back and forth working and talking we got the project done, I led him to the door standing there as he laced up his shoes, I opened the door as he stood back up

“So uhh, ya wanna hang out again tomorrow?” He asked gripping his backpack strap

“Sure, I have a shift at the diner in the morning but you can come by and we can eat there after I’m done, I get a discount!” I said excited

“Sounds good” he said about to leave before I stopped him

“Wait, here’s my number, it’s for my room phone so you can call anytime if you want” I said handing him a piece of paper with my number

“I’ll call ya later then, see ya” he said in his gruff voice as he left watching him disappear up the side walk

It was the next day and I was almost done my shift, I’d covered a lot of tables and was now just wiping down the counter waiting to see Daryl walk through the door, the door bell chimed and I looked up excited but instead it was Jackson and some of his football team members, they came in loud and obnoxious as usual

They came to the counter, filling three seats along the counter

“Jackson what are you doing here?” I asked putting down the rag I was using

“Oh come on sis we’re just hungry” he said sarcastically as his friends laughed with him

I sighed taking out my pad “well what do you wanted?”

“I wanna see you bent over my truck” his friend said, I was disgusted but I wasn’t good with this kind of thing

“Cute little thing like you mmmmm, what I wouldn’t do” his other friend said

I was beyond embarrased I just wish someone could help me, and as if my prayers were answered someone came in to intervene

“Leave er alone jackasses” I looked down to a seat further down the counter seeing it was Daryl, he must have just came in

“Oh ya and what’re you gonna do Dixon?”

“Just get outta here” he said sending a glare that could kill, they huffed and got up with a commotion

“Whatever, we’ll see you around bitch” they said to me before they left, I made my way to where Daryl was seated my face felt so hot

“Sorry you had to see that?” I said giving him a glass of water

“Do they do that often?”

“Ya usually when I’m working on the weekend, they think it’s funny”

“I can get Merle, set them straight” he said making me smile

“Nah it’s not your problem but thank you, I’m kinda use to it by now, even though it incredibly embarrassing” I said covering my cheeks

“Anyways, I’m done now so I’ll go clock out and be right back” I said trying to change the subject, I walked to the back taking of my waist apron and got my purse

“You done for the day sweetie?” My older coworker May asked

“Yeah, but me and my friend are going to have some lunch here”

Her eyes lit up “Friend? Did you finally manage to snatch someone up” she said twirling her pen as she smacked on her cherry gum she always had in her mouth

“Yes, he’s just easy to be around”

“HE?”

“Yes May my friend is a boy don’t get all crazy, but he’s waiting so I have to go before he thinks I left” I said blushing as I went back out and sat next to him at the counter

May took our orders and left to attend to the other few customers that were still here

“So why do ya work here?” He asked

“My parents said if I ever wanted anything I needed to get my own money, plus I’m trying to save to be able to afford ballet classes, it may be stupid but it’s my dream”

“It ain’t stupid, yer workin fer what ya want, I get that” his voice was kind but the grumble to it made me tingle

“Thanks, do you work anywhere?” I asked as May gave us our meals, my strawberry milkshake and grilled cheese, and Daryl’s coke with a burger and fries

“Sometimes I work on fixin people’s bikes ‘round town ta make some extra money, Merle said I’d make more if I did what he did but I don’t wanna fall into that crowd” I knew what Merle did, the whole town did

“Maybe one day we can get outta this town where people won’t judge us and we can have actual good jobs”

“Ya maybe”

With that we silently ate our food until we finished and May gave us our checks with my discount then we were leaving heading the door bell chime

We walked down to my house as neither of us had cars, until we stopped infront of the house awkwardly

“Lunch was nice, thanks for coming bye, you can come anytime”

“ ‘course, I’ll……I’ll see ya tomorrow then?”

“Ya I’ll see you tomorrow Daryl” I said smiling as we went separate ways, I closed the door to the house my heart thumping against my chest

I finally had a friend

Part.2

This will be a series so if you like to be added to the taglist and get notified of the next part comment below!!:)

Taglist: @deansapplepie

#twd fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #daryl dixon #twd x reader #twd fluff #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon series #daryl dixion smut #pre apocalypse Daryl Dixon

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starrierknight · 7 months

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𝟎𝟎𝟔. 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

“It is always pleasant to divulge a secret under dramatic circumstances.” ― Thomas Burnett Swann, Day of the Minotaur

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 5.2k

pairing— dom!gn!reader x pervy!sub!yuuta

cws/tags— dubcon, frottage, exhibitionism, humiliation, dirty talk, petnames: “pervert” + “perv” + “sicko” + “baby”, allusions to masturbation, yuuta fantasises a lot about unprotected sex, blood mention (poor baby bites his lip so hard it bleeds lmfao)

"The train from Tokyo Central to Hakodate, Hokkaido is now boarding. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform,” the announcement resonated through the draughty platform.

The automated doors of the sleek train parted, revealing a glimpse into a modern, comfortable journey awaiting those ready to step aboard. Yuuta confidently stepped onto the waiting train, a courteous gesture to allow fellow travellers to board before him. With a clear destination in mind, he turned to you, his eyes focused on the distant end of the train.

"We're sitting in the front car," he mentioned, his voice steady amidst the rising excitement of the journey ahead.

As the train's doors smoothly closed, Yuuta shifted his attention forward, his gaze fixated on the world beyond the glass. The train came to life, its mechanical rumble filling the air, while filtered evening sunlight spilled in through the windows, casting a gentle glow on the carriage's interior.

Yuuta settled himself in the middle of a spacious bench seat, leaving the window seat invitingly vacant for you. As you joined him, taking your place by the window, the train continued its rhythmic journey. More passengers gradually found their spots around you, their movements accompanied by footsteps, hushed conversations, and the rustling of clothing—a blend of sounds that marked the end of a long day at work.

The train, brimming with commuters in the midst of rush hour, boasted only a scattering of available seats. Despite the packed atmosphere, Yuuta remained composed, his gaze unwavering and fixed on the journey ahead. Occasionally, he stole fleeting glances at you. Amidst the murmur of weary conversations from fellow passengers, a quiet and comfortable silence settled between you and Yuuta.

As the train came to a halt at the next station, a handful of individuals disembarked, creating a momentary lull in the ambience. The doors slid closed once more, and the train resumed its course, the tranquillity of the moment returning. Yuuta remained in his introspective quietude, occasionally breaking it with those gentle, affectionate glances in your direction, as if looking for a reason to break the silence and speak.

The train eased into a new station, and a pregnant woman, accompanied by her young son, stepped into the bustling carriage. You rose from your seat, gently prompting Yuuta to do the same. Together, you offered your seats to the woman and her son. During this exchange, Yuuta's gaze shifted down to you, silently acknowledging your actions. He didn't need words to convey his appreciation, and he smiled faintly at you.

As the train smoothly departed from the station, Yuuta returned his attention to the passing scenery beyond the window. The surrounding crowd seemed inconsequential as he remained lost in his contemplation. After a few moments of silence, he eventually broke it, turning to you with a gentle inquiry.

"How long is the journey?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours, a subtle curiosity reflecting in his expression. The anticipation of the ride ahead sparkled in his eyes.

Because of the crowded train carriage, Yuuta stood in close proximity behind you, giving you a comforting sense of warmth and presence as you held on to the overhead railing for support. The smooth metal felt cool against your touch, the sensation sending a shiver of familiarity up your arm.

"We’re at the end of the line," you responded, your eyes momentarily shifting from the advertisements that adorned the opposite wall, reflecting a hint of boredom in your tone.

Yuuta made a conscious effort to maintain a respectful distance, ensuring there was no inadvertent contact between you two, despite the closeness dictated by the crowded space. He didn't react overtly to your answer, though his curiosity seemed to grow.

“And how long will that take?” he asked again, a touch more emotion audible in his voice this time.

You let out a sigh, exasperation tinting your response, "Longer than I’d like."

With the ongoing influx of passengers into the carriage, the space shifted and necessitated adjustments in your positioning. The confined space pressed everyone together, including you and Yuuta. Your back found the support of his solid, firm chest—a closeness that the packed environment demanded.

Yuuta's hands remained steadfastly at his sides, a conscious effort to maintain a respectful distance. His face remained fixed forward, the slightest lift of his brows in response to your answer. The close proximity heightened his awareness, the warmth from his body mingling with the confined train atmosphere. A subtle shiver coursed down his spine, a reaction to the unexpected closeness and the incidental skin-to-skin contact. Despite the rising warmth, he fought to maintain his composure.

With the train's gradual departure and the influx of more passengers, the confines of the carriage pressed you even closer. Yuuta grappled with an unexpected rush of emotions, his face feeling the heat, though masked by the cool air inside the train. His usual reserve was tested by this newfound closeness, a rarity in his experience. He struggled to find words, his body's reactions momentarily beyond his control.

As the journey continued, Yuuta turned his head toward you, his gaze gently lowered due to the difference in height. There was a shift in his expression this time, the curiosity from earlier replaced by a quiet introspection.

Yuuta fought to maintain his composure, though his body betrayed him as it started to warm under the circumstances. His face tinged with a delicate shade of red, a reaction he wasn't entirely accustomed to.

The train's journey persisted, the rhythmic movement a backdrop to the silent interplay between you and Yuuta. He continued to steal glances in your direction, a small, genuine smile briefly gracing his features, only to be quickly hidden beneath a veil of bashfulness as his face flushed even more.

As the carriage grew increasingly packed, the situation became more intimate than either of you would have preferred. You could sense his silent discomfort mingling with the annoyance you both shared at the lack of personal space. The circumstances left you exasperated, your ass pressed to his thighs, the close quarters an unavoidable inconvenience, all you could do was sigh, silently resigned to the circumstances.

Yuuta's internal struggle was palpable, evident in the way he discreetly bit his lip, his flushed face betraying the rising sensations within him. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure and not appear improper, his eyes involuntarily widened, his face growing even redder. He desperately sought to concentrate on anything other than the intimate contact between your ass and his groin, choosing to keep his gaze fixed forward, hoping to downplay the significance of the situation.

The relentless closeness between you and Yuuta became increasingly challenging for him to dismiss as a mere inconvenience. The sensations were undeniable, and as the train slowed once more, he remained stoic and silent, unwilling to draw any attention to his internal turmoil. The predicament was much more intriguing than he had anticipated, causing his thoughts to drift into forbidden territory. Despite this internal battle, he showed remarkable restraint… For the time being.

The train carriage gracefully manoeuvred around a sharp corner, prompting the train itself to sway, and your body moved in sync with its motion. Unintentionally, your ass gently brushed against him, causing a subtle but noticeable reaction from Yuuta. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, despite his attempt to divert his attention from the unfolding situation. The warmth of embarrassment rushed to his face, painting it a deep shade of crimson as he felt the pressure of your form against his.

Despite his efforts to suppress these feelings, they danced at the edges of his consciousness, impossible to fully disregard. It was a ritual that repeated each time the train swerved, bringing your bodies in close contact, and each time it did, a subtle yet undeniable pleasure coursed through him. He struggled to contain the burgeoning smile, taming it as best as he could, not wanting to reveal the extent of his newfound delight.

Yuuta's eyes widened, nearly bulging out of their sockets from the unexpected sensation. A surge of joy coursed through him, a pleasure he struggled to suppress, conflicted between proprietary and desire. Though he tried to feign disgust, the allure of the moment was too powerful to ignore. His focus shifted entirely to the thoughts that now consumed his mind, stealing glances in your direction. The blush on his face deepened.

Amidst the swaying of the train and the accidental closeness, Yuuta maintained an uneasy silence. Each time the train veered, the sensation of you brushing against him sent his thoughts racing into a realm he wished to resist. He was keenly aware of the growing tightness in his boxers, and that familiar ache between his thighs. He pressed himself closer to you, taking a deep breath and praying that none of the other passengers could see his ever-hardening erection. He grappled with the impulses that urged him towards regrettable actions, a battle fought within the confines of his conscience.

Your sorcerer's uniform concealed most of your frame, leaving room for his imagination to wander. Though only a few details were visible, they ignited his imagination—he was imagining the ways he could grab your body, hold it, and do what he wanted with it. To kiss it, to fill it, to cum inside—

No. No, no, no. He was your friend! You two were friends! He couldn’t be thinking about you like this in public… Not when he already spent so many long nights thinking about you in private, wishing his hands felt as good as you.

Yuuta found himself teetering on the edge of a captivating fantasy, the reality of your proximity and the sensations it evoked pulling him deeper into a daydream. Amidst the train's rhythmic motion and the ambient sounds of the journey, he discreetly observed the other passengers. It was a symphony of isolation, each individual engrossed in their own world, cocooned by headphones or lost in conversation. The unspoken privacy within the crowded space offered a certain freedom.

Despite the intoxicating allure of his thoughts, Yuuta remained steadfast in his restraint. His arms stayed resolutely at his sides, a testament to his self-control. The battle between his desires and his respect for boundaries waged within, a silent struggle he kept hidden from the oblivious world around him.

With each calculated movement, Yuuta inched his body closer to yours. He couldn't deny the proximity anymore, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His hands, once firmly at his sides, were now daringly moving towards your hips, guided by the unspoken tension in the air.

As his internal debate reached its peak, a moment of decision loomed on the horizon. But would it really be so bad to give in? No one would notice, you knew him well enough and probably wouldn’t mind, right? It wouldn’t be that bad? No, surely not… It couldn’t be that bad.

It couldn’t be.

The anticipation hung in the air like an electric charge, as Yuuta's every subtle movement brought him closer to the edge of temptation. The warmth of his breath on your ear sent ripples of sensation through you, and the gradual encroachment of his hands toward your hips intensified the intimacy of the moment. The allure of such an encounter in the crowded train was undeniable, the secrecy couldn’t have been more intoxicating if it tried to be.

As the train continued its journey, Yuuta's internal struggle reached its breaking point. The relentless tug of desire and longing overwhelmed his restraint. With a sudden and decisive movement, his hands reached out and enveloped your midsection, pulling you closer to him. You could feel the rush of heat between you as he pressed your back firmly against his chest, your bodies now completely and intimately entwined.

As the world around you remained oblivious to the newfound intimacy, a mixture of pleasure and guilt washed over Yuuta. He revelled in the closeness and the desire that had taken hold, but a lingering sense of guilt gnawed at the edges of his conscience. Was it truly acceptable to indulge in such an intimate act in public, even if no one seemed to notice?

In that fleeting moment, as the train turned sharply, Yuuta's self-control faltered and he gave in to the rising tide of desire. His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer. His warm breath grazed your ear, his thoughts a mystery to you.

Sensing the depth of his struggle, you turned to look at him, whispering his name softly in an attempt to ground him. "Yuuta?"

Startled back to the present, his heart raced, and a nervous bead of sweat traced its path down his flushed cheek. The intensity of the moment and your proximity had thrown him into a whirlwind of emotions. Embarrassment coloured his face, but he met your gaze, struggling to find words amidst the haze of desire.

“Um… Yeah?” he whispered back, his voice tinged with a mix of desire and uncertainty. The internal battle continued, the decision of how to proceed weighing heavily on his mind.

"Are you... Getting off right now?" you whispered.

Yuta felt a rush of excitement shoot through him as you spoke. He didn’t know how to answer your question and he just looked at you as you felt him get harder. You could see tears come up in his eyes, but he tried his best to hide them.

“Yeah, I might be,” he answered quietly.

You raised a brow and pressed closer, grinding your ass against his hard-on, but this time it was on purpose. "Does that feel good?" you asked gently.

A suppressed moan escaped his lips, a fleeting revelation of the pleasure that coursed through him. His eyes closed involuntarily, surrendering momentarily to the intensity of the sensations.

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, your question pierced through the haze, and Yuuta nodded, his response faltering with a mixture of uncertainty and desire. “Y-yeah…”

A faint smile curled on your lips as you whispered, "You're such a pervert," playfully teasing Yuuta. Your words, though whispered, carried a tantalising weight, sinking into his conscience.

The sensation of guilt and shame wrestled with desire and lust within him. He felt conflicted and trapped in the allure of the moment.

“Y-you’re not helping…” he confessed in a hushed tone, his self-control slipping away as the desire surged once more.

A mischievous retort escaped your lips, "You started it.”

His body responded to the increasing intimacy, a natural reaction he struggled to control. Embarrassment painted his features a deeper shade of red, his attempt at a smile tinged with nervousness. He let out a shaky exhale and pressed his crotch deeper against the softnes of your ass, discreetly grinding against it.

As the train continued its rhythmic journey, Yuuta's grip around you tightened, his whole being consumed by the sensations. His trembling arms betrayed the internal struggle he grappled with, torn between the rush of pleasure and the tug of restraint.

You could see the battle in his eyes—the pleasure, the guilt, the desire, all fighting for dominance. The dichotomy of the situation was overwhelming, yet in this chaotic moment, there was a strange connection, a shared unspoken understanding. The voices in Yuuta's head waged their war, one urging caution, the other enticing him to abandon restraint.

"Such a desperate perv, getting off against me in public," you muttered in his ear.

Your whispered words stoked the flames, the desire within Yuuta burning hotter. The intensity of the situation seemed to reach its peak, his face a crimson hue as you described the forbidden act that heightened the pleasure.

Each movement of the train added to the electric atmosphere, fueling the sensations coursing through both of you. Yuuta's grip tightened, his hips pressing against you with a newfound urgency, the pleasure undeniable. He was losing himself in the moment, the world around him fading into a blur.

His focus narrowed, everything else fading into the background as your voice, like a siren's song, filled his senses. In this moment of passion, the decision loomed even larger—to yield to the intoxication of desire or find the strength to pull away and regain control. Yuuta felt an almost magnetic pull towards you, every fibre of his being craving the closeness, the connection.

He could feel the pre-cum dripping down the length of his aching cock, confined by his boxers and layers of clothing. The warm, wet stickiness coated the cotton of his underwear, but he wished more than anything that it was your skin. Oh, how he wished it was your skin pressed against his, his pre painting your skin with his desire—that desire he wanted to spill deep inside you until it leaked down your thighs and stained the sheets.

Your eyes locked, a magnetic force pulling them together, the unspoken understanding between you palpable. Your voice was a whispered seduction, each word igniting a spark of desire that danced through his body. He was teetering on the precipice, the temptation to let go and embrace the pleasure almost overwhelming. The beads of sweat on his forehead were testament to the internal battle he waged.

"Shhh. You don't wanna get caught, do you?" you whispered, your words both a caution and a tantalising invitation.

The his pace quickened, the movement between your bodies becoming more pronounced. Yuuta was losing himself in the sensation, his reservations eroding with every passing second. Desire and shame battled for supremacy. Why must you be such a sweet temptation?

The charged silence between you two spoke volumes, conveying a torrent of unspoken desires and the growing intensity of the moment. Yuuta's voice was trapped, caught in the whirlwind of sensation that enveloped him. You could see the struggle on his face, his lips bitten in a desperate attempt to hold back his desires. His body was a testament to the conflict within, pressing against you with increasing urgency. The rhythm of his hips quickened, the intensity of his breaths rising.

The combination of your words and the heightened sensations sent shivers down Yuuta's spine, his body responding more urgently to the tantalising closeness. Your voice, laced with desire, urged him closer to the edge.

"How close are you?" you murmured, a question that only fueled the fire that raged within him. His breath hitched, the electric current of desire making it difficult for him to form a coherent response.

As his hips moved faster, the culmination of the moment neared its zenith. Yuuta's grip tightened, his fingers leaving a mark on your skin through your clothes. He shuddered as you asked the question, the pleasure mingling with the guilt that still clung to the edges.

"Shhh, don't be so loud. We can't let anyone know about what a pervert you really are," you teased, your words fanning the flames of both passion and secrecy, pushing him further into the depths of his desires.

"I bet you wanna feel me so badly, huh? Some part of you likes having a dirty little secret," you teased, your words stoking the flames of passion.

“Shhh!” Yuuta's quiet groan escaped his lips, his voice a mix of pleasure and urgency. The need for secrecy and the desire for intimacy waged their battle within him. His face was a tapestry of sensations—pleasure, guilt, and the vulnerability of being so close to losing himself in the forbidden.

The train continued its journey, the rhythm of its movement mirroring the rhythm of desire that pulsed through Yuuta. Every passing moment felt like an eternity as the decision he faced loomed closer, the choice between surrendering to the intoxicating passion or finding a way to regain control.

The friction between your bodies heightened, syncing with the rhythm of the train, adding an electrifying intensity to the charged atmosphere. Yuuta's breaths became shallower, his body pulsating in tune with the alluring dance of desire. Your teasing words were a symphony, playing a tune that enticed him further into the depths of his longing. He let out soft groans and moans, the pleasure and guilt entangled, creating a whirlwind of sensations.

“Seeing you all needy has done something to me," you whispered, your voice dripping with a playful allure, the admission of your own desire adding fuel to the fire between his thighs.

He could feel the mounting tension, the pressure building within him as the tantalising dance pushed him closer to the peak. His eyes remained closed, his breath ragged, and his movements more urgent as he ground against you. The sensations overwhelmed him, blurring the lines between reality and desire.

“Shhh… Stop talking,” he pleaded, his voice a mix of desperation and passion. “You’re turning me on…”

A nervous chuckle escaped you. "I bet you wish you could take me here and now, hm?" you teased, adding a layer of exhilarating temptation.

Yuuta's struggle was palpable, his face aflame with embarrassment and desire warring within him. He fought to maintain some semblance of control, attempting to suppress the overwhelming urge that coursed through his body.

“P-please, stop,” he implored, his voice a trembling plea, the battle between his desires and propriety evident.

"You are a sicko, Yuta. It's disgusting... I like it," you whispered, your words a potent cocktail of truth and desire, sending a shiver down his spine.

His body reacted, heat and desire coursing through him. He could feel you pressing against him, the tantalising friction driving him to the edge. He let out a soft whine, the last vestiges of his restraint slipping away. The struggle was all-consuming, the point of no return approaching rapidly.

You snickered. "I bet you'd feel so good inside me, filling me up all the way. You'd look so pretty doing it, too. My dirty little secret.”

He could image it now—the way he would fill everything inch of you, stretching you out as you rode him, your body slicked with sweat. He would paw at your hips and thighs, begging to cum inside and fuck it into you, and you would just deny him, telling him to hold for just that little bit longer. He would moan, his cock would twitch inside you and you would smile down at him wickedly as you used him for your own pleasure.

“Please… Please…” he managed to whisper, the desperation evident in his voice, teetering on the edge of something he had never fully embraced before.

You, too, could sense the culmination of this shared desire, and to protect this secret intimacy. A cough, a subtle cover for his near-moan, drew curious glances from nearby passengers. You offered a sweet smile, a diversion that succeeded in redirecting their attention away from the unfolding scene. They remained indifferent, preoccupied by their own weariness from a long day.

Yuuta's face burned with a mix of embarrassment and desire, the glances from onlookers only adding to the intoxicating rush he felt. He smiled nervously.

His voice, a mere breath, escaped in a desperate plea, “Hngh…! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck… Please.”

"What are you begging for, perv?" you teased, a challenge that stirred the yearning within him.

To cum inside you. To inside you again and again and again… To feel the way you would tighten around him as you reached your own orgasm, to see your head thrown back with a lust-drunk grin tugging at your lips as he filled you and made you feel good.

The tension in the air was suffocating, the mutual desire palpable as the train hurtled towards its destination. Yuuta's body was a battleground of conflicting desires, the internal struggle reflected in his trembling form.

“You know what I’m begging for,” he finally managed to respond, his voice a barely audible whimpered, strained with both need and restraint.

"I wanna hear it from you. Tell me," you pressed, your tone adding to the fevered pitch of the moment.

Yuuta's eyes widened for a fleeting moment, the weight of your request settling on his shoulders. He bit down on his lip, the taste of blood a reminder of the control he fought to maintain. Your words invaded his senses, clouding his thoughts and setting his pulse racing.

“Please, let me fill you up…” he whispered quietly.

"Oh? You think I'd let a pervert like you touch me, Yuta?" you muttered.

“Yes,” he whispered as his body shivered once more. Well, he did have a point.

Yuuta's body was a live wire, every nerve on edge as the seconds ticked by. The temptation was palpable, the desire intoxicating, pushing him further towards the edge of control.

He took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself, his heart thundering in his chest. The words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation, daring him to give voice to his longing. The battle between restraint and surrender waged on, his mind a battlefield of lust and self-control.

"I… I want…" he stammered, the words catching in his throat as he struggled to articulate his desires. The confession hovered on the tip of his tongue, the weight of it almost suffocating.

“Use your words, sicko.”

“Please let me touch you, let me fill you with me. I wanna know what it feels like,” he moaned into your ear. The tremors in his body and the breaths that escaped him betrayed the intensity of the moment. "I wanna cum for you, make you feel good…" he finally whined, the admission hanging in the air.

"How close are you, baby?" you asked.

The desperation in his voice was palpable, his yearning nearly overwhelming.

“Ah, fuck…!” he moaned, the sound barely contained, his self-control slipping further away. “I’m… So close!" he confessed, the words barely more than a desperate breath.

The stakes were high, the pleasure almost within reach as Yuuta grappled with the overwhelming desire that threatened to consume him. Your laughter, a tantalising melody, danced around him, both a torment and an aphrodisiac.

"Hush, you could get into so much trouble if someone caught you," you whispered, the playfulness in your tone a reminder of the secrecy that heightened the forbidden allure.

His body trembled against you, a symphony of need and longing. “Hngh… Please… Please…” he begged, the words almost swallowed by the rising tide of pleasure. He was at the edge, the precipice of self-restraint crumbling beneath the force of his desire.

“Don’t care.. What they think… Oh, fuck me…” he whimpered, surrendering to the need that pulsed through him. In a breathless, shuddering voice, he finally managed to utter, “I can't… Hold on... Any longer…”

You held the reins, the architect of this moment, the temptation who had pushed him to this edge. In this fleeting, charged space, Yuuta was yours to command, the decision to surrender to the longing now undeniable. He could feel the heat radiating from you, the urgency of the situation heightening the sensations. Yuuta's mind was a blur, a tempest of lust and longing.

At this point, you could do anything you wanted with him. He was letting you control him, he wanted you this badly. He was close to losing it, he felt like he was ready to burst.

“Please, please, please…!”

Yuuta was on the edge, teetering on the precipice of ecstasy. Every fibre of his being trembled with anticipation, the rush of desire flooding his senses, blurring the boundaries of reality. His body sought solace in the pressure of your closeness, aching for release. The rhythm of the train seemed to synchronise with the pounding of his heart, a relentless reminder of the pleasure that beckoned.

"Go on, make a mess," you muttered, smirking.

Yuuta surrendered to the intoxicating wave of pleasure, a gasp breaking free as his body yielded to the desire that had been building. He bit down hard on his lip, desperately muffling the sounds of ecstasy that threatened to escape. His arms tightened around you, pulling you close as if seeking solace in the embrace of this final act of surrender. Pleasure surged through him, an electric current of release that left his body trembling and his mind blissfully hazy. Every nerve ending was ablaze with the intensity of the climax, his jaw slack as he groaned into the crook of your neck.

Cum slicked the inside of his boxers, dripping down the length of his cock and soaking the fabric. Even still, he imagined it was you—you who he was fucking his cum into, you who was taking him so well, you who was using him and seeing just how much he could take.

Yuuta's body convulsed with the aftershocks of pleasure, every muscle tingling with the remnants of the ecstasy he had experienced. It was a sensation unlike any he had felt before, leaving him in a state of both exhaustion and contentment. He gradually regained control over himself, the rush of pleasure subsiding to leave a sense of calm and satisfaction. Slumped against you, he was enveloped in a cocoon of quietude, the world outside reduced to the gentle hum of the train.

His breaths were slow and deliberate, finding a steady rhythm once more. The arms that had held you tightly now provided a comforting embrace, a source of solace after the storm. You felt him nuzzle into your neck, seeking comfort and closeness.

"Nice one, perv," you whispered playfully, a shared understanding and a sprinkle of laughter in the air.

Yuuta remained still for a moment, allowing his breath to return to a normal rhythm. His voice, slightly hoarse, broke the silence:

“T-that was the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done,” he admitted in a hushed tone. “But it felt… S-so good.”

His dishevelled appearance hinted at the intensity of the experience. He kept himself slumped against you, finding comfort in this closeness. Despite the embarrassment, the pleasure outweighed it, leaving a desire for more lingering in the air.

Yuuta clung to the closeness, finding both solace and excitement in the aftermath of their shared experience. He held onto you tightly, you could feel him shake in embarrassment. He knew he just made a fool out of himself but he couldn’t say anything. He didn’t regret doing what he just did, all he felt was pleasure while it was happening and he was grateful to you.

“Let’s do it a-again…” he murmured, his voice a mix of anticipation and hope.

"If you're lucky," you murmured teasingly, "Then maybe on the train ride back."

“God, I hope I’m lucky,” he whispered back.

Yuuta nestled into your shoulder, relishing the lingering sensations of the exhilarating encounter. The world around him seemed to blur as he sought to prolong the euphoria, not yet ready to return to the mundane reality of their daily lives.

You smiled innocently at the other passengers who cast suspicious glances their way, a perfect disguise for the secret shared between you and Yuuta. In this moment, you were a master of subterfuge, a connoisseur of delightful secrets.

He spoke softly, his words a tender plea. “Please, if we’re able to do this again… Let’s go far away from anyone who could see us. I want to do it again… And again… And again.”

You couldn't help but snort at his eagerness. "Desperate, much?"

“For you? Always,” Yuuta retorted with a playful grin, embracing the honesty in his desire.

“You mean that?”

“Always.”

a/n: i tried to make this as nasty as i could while keeping it somewhat in the realms of what would be plausible for a public setting lolol. i hope it's okay?? idk. hmm. oh well, i can revisit this another time haha

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

#꒰ ✎ ꒱ — tongues in trees #꒰ ✑ ꒱ — they kiss consume #꒰ 🝮 ꒱ — kt 23 #sub yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #sub yuuta okkotsu #sub yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x reader smut #sub yuta okkotsu x reader smut

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ashtxrie · 1 month

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i got you (jake)

PAIR. high school! bf! jake x gn! reader GENRE. hurt/comfort, jake is an academic weapon WORD COUNT. 0.6k WARNINGS. math, anxiety, ap season, academics in general NOTES. ap season is making me lose my mind in every way possible but if jake tutored i bet i would get a 5 IN WHICH: with all hope of an academic comeback gone, jake swears to personally help you clutch up your gradebook, no matter what.

the calculus test stares up at you, the numbers you had written the week before blending into incessant scribbles that pound at your head and sting at your eyes. red marks plague your work and the crimson ink slashes at the harsh white, making the numerals bleed. you flip the exam over, quickly rolling it up into a scroll and stuffing it into your bag.

a 68 percent. you had gotten a 68 on the test that you had calculated and count on to change your grade for the better. you had failed.

biting your lip, you walk out of the nearly empty classroom, your heart sinking into your gut.

everything was so much.

from studying for the AP exams coming up in less than two months to frantically memorizing all the polyatomic ion formulas for chemistry-- you were spent. you had thought you had done fine, you had thought that you had this one in the bag.

obviously not.

the door to the cafeteria approaches to your left and you walk towards it, feeling sharp jabs in your abdomen from the anxiety.

“please let it be almost empty,” you whisper, pushing the door open and walking through the clusters of students.

at your usual table, your boyfriend jake sits with his computer, pencil in hand. probably doing the physics bonus problems, for fun— under normal circumstances, you would’ve laughed at him. he sees you in the corner of his peripheral and smiles.

“hey,” jake scoots to the left of the bench and offers you the seat. his smile falters a bit when he sees your face, your eyes glassy and red.

“hey,” you mutter, your voice constricted. you were having trouble keeping the tears in and you feared that you would burst at any given moment. you keep your head down and try to avoid his gaze.

jake stares at you, his brown eyes focusing on your bent head and trembling bottom lip. “hey,” he says again, his voice soothing and soft. “what’s the matter?”

you had no appetite, but you found yourself walking past the table, toward the lunch line. jake trailed behind you. cautiously, as if you’d run away at any moment.

his hand grabs onto yours and he pulls on your fingertips lightly. “[name],” he pushes, his hand warm to the touch.

you shake your head and turn back to face him, your eyes beginning to water. “i– i,” you stammer, your voice shaking and cracking as you struggled to remain calm, “i’m having a really rough day.” your words trigger something inside of yourself and a tear slides it’s way down your face, trickling down your cheek and sliding off your chin onto your shoes.

you walk towards jake who meets you halfway, his arms wrapping around you tightly. you rest your head in the crook of his neck and let the tears fall from your eyes. your body wracks up and down, unable to control itself.

jake’s hand moves up and down the small of your back. “it’s going to be okay,” he says in your ear.

“i got a sixty eight in calc,” you manage, your voice coming out in teary whispers. “it’s so bad... i tried so hard for this. i basically failed.”

jake shakes his head. “no. no [name].” he takes his hand and moves a strand of hair behind your ears. “you are not a failure. tell you what, i’ll help you with math from now on, and we are going to get you a 100 on the next test. sound good?”

you sniff and nod, your head resting on his shoulder. “thank you.”

jake nods and smiles, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “anytime.”

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen blurbs #enhypen fic #enhypen jake #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake x reader #jake imagines #jake fluff #jake fic #jake drabbles #ashtxrie #— ash writes!

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psychedelic-ink · 8 months

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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋.

DAY THREE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: priest au + “worship me. until i tell you to stop.”

pairing: priest!ezra x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, dark content

summary: after a breakup, you find solaca at the local church. there, you meet father ezra.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: dubcon, manipulation, brief mention of reader going through a breakup, reader having a brief anxiety attack, reader having confidence issues, loneliness, messy blowjob, degradation, leg humping, dirty talk, facial, power imbalance, dumbification if you squint, use of whore, religious themes, this is written for horny purposes only, priest kink, a lot of 'yes father's and 'forgive me father's

Comfort is what leads you to your local church.

You wouldn’t exactly say you’re a believer, but coming to the church and sticking wishing candles into the sandy surface was one of your finest memories from your childhood. You enjoy the chocolaty smell of the wooden benches, the stained large panes of the windows that cast vibrant rainbows upon the polished floor when the sun hits them just right.

When you sit on the bench, surrounded by a calm dimness and silent prayers, you feel contented, like the world outside doesn’t exist.

You feel lonely out there in the modern world, especially after your breakup, which was the turning point that led you to the adorned wooden doors of the church in the first place. It wasn’t a messy breakup, still, it left you in shambles. He’d moved on so quickly. Just picking up his clothes and throwing them into the bag before he left. It broke your heart if you’re being honest. He was never overly affectionate or necessarily cared about the things you cared about, but it was better than being utterly alone.

Just a little bit of comfort. That’s all you want. Just a sense of belonging.

Here at the church, the sense of commune affects you, even if you’re not exactly a part of it.

Sitting at the edge of the bench, you look up. The church is empty today due to the heavy downpour, there’s only one more person other than you. They’re busy in prayer so you don’t stare at them for long, not wanting to be rude.

Your eyes move away from the person, they linger on the confessionals. You always found the idea appealing in some twisted way. As if asking for forgiveness from some random man will solve all your problems. You never went it, always feeling too paranoid that someone might hear how stupid you sound.

The person finishes their prayer, and as they walk down the middle, you notice it was a youngish man, his hair stuck to his forehead. His steps echo, a second later the sound of his departure rings dull against the cold walls.

You rise slowly, eyes once again fixed on the booths. They’re barely noticeable thanks to how dimly lit the church is, and with no sun there’s little light to guide you.

You’re not even sure a Father will assist you when you open the door to the small space. It creaks loudly and your skin crawls. You’re hesitant, yet you still climb inside and take a seat. It’s small, dark, and smells overwhelmingly of wood. It’s oddly comforting.

You’re unsure what to do with yourself until you hear the door opening and closing from the other side of the booth.

“Welcome. I am Father Ezra, and I am here to listen, guide, and offer you the grace of God's forgiveness. As sunlit moments blend with shadows, so too do our lives weave intricate tales of both frailty and strength. With open ears and an open heart, I beckon you to unburden your spirit. When you're ready, please share your thoughts, knowing that your words are heard in the spirit of compassion and understanding.”

Your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. He doesn’t rush his speech, taking time as if every sentence is a story of its own. It’s so smooth, enticing, beckoning you to pour all the darkness that lingers around your heart. You’re surprised to find yourself wanting to hear more of that honey-dipped voice.

Father Ezra, you’ve heard his name before and from afar, even laid eyes on him. You can barely remember what he looks like now though. You certainly never heard him during sermons, you would’ve definitely remembered his voice if you had.

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when you hear a creak and a soft flutter of a robe.

“Sorry,” you say, quick and silent. “This is my first time doing this and I didn’t really have a prepared thing in mind.”

His soft chuckle echoes—god, why does he sound so good?

“Sweet, lost, little bird, you do not need to rush it. You can start by introducing yourself. Tell me your name.”

A shudder that starts from your toes claws all the way up to your spine. All he did was ask your name, yet, it feels like he’s asking for something drastic like your life. You swallow around the know in your throat, lowering your gaze even though there’s no one that can see you.

You give him your name and something you can’t discern shifts in the air.

“What a lovely name,” he hums. “Now tell me, what troubles you on this rainy day.”

“Nothing specific,” a sigh parts your lips, and again, a creak comes through the other side. Your skin prickles. You can feel as if his eyes can see through the thin wall that separates you both. “I’m feeling a bit lonely. I—I went through a break up a couple of weeks ago and. . . I guess I can’t help but feel it’s my fault somehow.”

You wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, you continue.

“This might sound dumb—”

“There is no such thing,” you can almost hear the smile in his voice. “There’s no shame in asking for guidance and forgiveness.”

“There were these things. . . that he said about me. Things like I was too needy, too dependent, and too much overall. And I feel like it’s true because no one ever seems to stay with me,” you let out a bitter chuckle as tears begin to well in your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m like this, maybe—maybe God is punishing me for a sin I don’t know and i-if that’s the case, Father, I seek forgiveness.”

A breath. A low, violent exhale of breath. Your eyes flit to the grille, a pair of plush lips now visible through the tightly made slats.

“You ask for forgiveness, atonement, yet do you actually believe?” he coos, voice low.

“I don’t,” you answer a bit too quickly and blood boils under your nails. “I–I mean I don’t know.”

“How do you expect me to help when you doubt the lord’s existence, little one?” Despite the provocative question, you see the faint curve of his smile through the darkness. “Are you desperate?”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” you say quietly. The rain pour had begun again, drowning out the rest of the sound. “I’ve been coming here ever since the breakup. I enjoy watching people pray and smile, looking comforted. I just thought that if I did this, that comfort would extend to me as well. I’m sorry.”

“The comfort is fleeting when you don’t believe it to be true,” he murmurs, ignoring your apology. “If you seek guidance, I can help you understand better and maybe then you’ll receive the comfort and the forgiveness that you crave oh so deeply.”

There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that you decide to ignore. It feels only right when you had outwardly said that you didn’t believe in the man’s religion.

With an open heart, you accept his offer of guidance.

You visit his office almost every night.

You found yourself enjoying the church even more after hours. Ezra became a friend, which didn’t surprise you because that man had an essence about him that would charm the pants off of any devil that he might encounter. You guys did bible studies together and talked about other religions as well, and what it means to understand the words inscribed and given to the people. It was interesting to listen to. He would even give you assignments sometimes, telling you to read a specific paper or book. It felt like being at school again. He’d given you something you thought you had lost forever; A sense of purpose.

It didn’t hurt that he was a sight to look at. His dark brown eyes always held a certain mischief to them, lighting up in amusement whenever you said anything peculiar.

You knew it was cliche to have a crush on a priest, yet here you were, wagging an imaginary tail whenever he praised you for doing a good job.

But tonight is not one of those days you feel all giddy and excited to see him. You enter the wide halls of the church and take a sharp turn towards his office, all you sense is impending doom, your insides riddled with anxiety. You’re shaking, barely able to feel your legs as you walk.

When you enter, his eyes look up from the papers that lay in front of him, his gaze momentarily dropping to where your dress ends, then back up. His brows furrowing instantly at your heavy breathing, “Little bird, what’s wrong?”

“Everything!” you exclaim, heaving a breath. “Everything is wrong—I’m wrong—I—fuck—”

Ezra clears his throat in warning, “Language,” he says with a click of his tongue.

“Sorry, Father.” you look down in shame, your hands balled into tight fists as you fight the urge to pace around his office. “I just—”

He cuts you off, “Why don’t you take a seat and tell me what happened?” he smiles kindly. “And maybe you can stop shaking while you’re at it.”

You nod as you take a seat. Your heart continuously rams against your ribcage and you can barely breathe, your throat convulsing in agony. Ezra gestures to you to look at him. When you do, he takes a deep inhale, making a demonstration in showing how his chest expands and contracts, his hand following the movement as if on waves.

You breathe with him, the oxygen that fills your lungs calming you.

“Good,” he hums. “Now tell me what happened.”

“I saw him today. My—My ex,” you shook your head, reliving the moment. “He’s already seeing someone, which is fine if he was just honest about it. It’s some girl from work, the same girl I asked him about when he moved out,” a hiccup parts your sentence and you continue, your eyes dropping away from Ezra’s. “I said ‘is it her, do you like someone else’ and he said no. He pretended not to recognize me, even though his girlfriend did. I could see it in her eyes but he just walked past me, like I never existed.”

A sole tear trickles down your cheek and you wipe it away with your sleeve, sniffling. When you feel another, you repeat the motion, finding solace in the softness of the fabric. “I’m an idiot,” you say, still not looking at him. “What am I even doing here? I should try to face reality not escape it in some—some church.”

You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. The church had helped you when you needed it most, it had given you Ezra, most of all. But you couldn’t help the words, you’re angry. Furious. You feel invisible out there, but here, here people recognize you, and ask where you’ve been when you came back the other day. It’s good to know that if you disappear some people would wonder about you.

Ezra’s voice rings in your ear, and without even understanding the words he’s saying, you’re looking up.

“Let’s try something,” he says probably again. “Come here.”

You’re slightly confused but obliged. He pushes his chair slightly back, making some room between him and the desk. Your eyes drop to the end of his robes, two shiny shoes peaking from underneath.

“Get on your knees.”

You snort, “Excuse me?”

“It’s going to calm you,” he says. “Do you trust me?”

Your lips part with a faint gasp, you don’t blink as your eyes search his. There’s a tranquility in his expression that makes your heart throb. “Of course, Father,” you get on your knees.

“Good girl,” he pats his thigh. “Now lay your head.”

You do so without question this time, appreciating the firmness of muscle under your head. A moment passes, awkwardness starting to settle in, then you feel his fingers touching the back of your neck and gradually they move up to your scalp. Humming a gentle melody, he starts to stroke your hair, massaging your head as he went along. A deep sigh comes from the depths of your lungs, your nerves humming, your rigid muscles finally relax.

“You’ve been doing so well these past couple of weeks,” he says, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice. “You’ve been learning, little bird, but you still have much to learn. The church is part of the real world, you haven’t been doing nothing.”

Listening to him so intently, he sends shivers down your spine, the thickness of arousal pooling between your legs. He drags blunt nails down your scalp and comes down to your nape to squeeze from both sides. You’re embarrassed of the moan that rattles your throat but he doesn’t seem to mind it. You lean closer, pressing your cheek further against his leg.

“Isn’t this nice?” he asks without needing the answer. “You, my obedient girl, listening and eager to please. You’ll always feel like this when you’re with me. No anxiety, no need to compete and try to accomplish something when all you want to do is. . . relax. . .”

His voice had dropped to a whisper, every word a gentle caress to your skin. Eyes fluttering close, you only focus on the ups and downs of his voice, your body reacting to every stop and turn. The fabric of your underwear dampens, your folds becoming slicker the more you inch towards him. You ache for your fingers—or better yet his cock—but he isn’t allowed to touch you is he?

You try to remember the lessons in celibacy but can’t seem to remember any of them.

Your tighs instinctively press together, the brief friction doing little in dousing the wildfires between your legs. You wiggle a bit closer, his voice nothing but a siren song now.

Ezra notices the constant movement, his fingers slip under your chin, and drags your eyes up to face him. Your breath hitches. The faint moonlight that trickles through the windows behind him cast his face in complete shadow, his features hardening with darkness. He slips his foot between your legs, the floor creaking under the sole of his shoe, “Now, why can’t you stay still when I’m trying so hard to soothe you, little bird?”

He lifts the point of his shoe, the leather pressing directly against your throbbing clit. A surprised whimper rips from your throat, your body shaking as he drags the leather tip down. Your insides clench with want, with a primal need that you can’t seem to understand.

You’re haunted by his words and the darkness that lurks in his eyes. Despite yourself, you press yourself up against his leg like some animal. You can’t seem to stop staring at him. And by the way he pushes his shoe further into you, borderline on almost being painful, you don’t think he minds either.

Your eyes flutter as he parts his robe, your gaze immediately drops to the outline of his cock that’s visible. Your mouth waters.

“Worship me,” he unbuttons himself with expertise but leaves it at that. “Until I tell you to stop.”

His leg still between your legs, you pull out his cock. The tip is an angry shade of red, precum dotting at the tip, without much thought you lean over and dip your tongue, tasting him for the first time. The taste of him coats the inside of your mouth and you swallow greedily, the blood rush to your ears muffling his voice.

“Such a sweet whore,” he hums. “You like sucking cock, don’t you?”

Dragging your lips down the length of him, you answer with him between your lips, “Yes, Father.”

“I really do enjoy it when you call me that,” his thumb touches your cheek as you finally take him between your lips, you allow out your cheeks and flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock. “All you needed was a little encouragement and now you’re the perfect hole for me. There’s nothing wrong with you, all you need is someone to take care of you.”

You hum in approval around him, taking him deeper while grinding against his leg, your dress rides up your thighs, your underwear nearly sheer in color.

“I can feel how wet you are. So needy,” he lays back in his chair and spreads his legs. “I want to feel every inch of your mouth. I said worship, if this is how you think that works you’re mistaken, dove.”

Your stomach churns at that. You want to make him happy—you truly do. You part from him, strings of saliva following the frame of your lips as you bend down closer to the floor, feeling the full shape of his shoe. You look up to him, the heft of his cock laying directly in the middle of your face, the scent of sex and him clinging to your nose. Opening your mouth, you lick between his balls, taking one into your mouth, you swirl your tongue around it. His eyes roll in pleasure, a thick drop of precome dripping to your forehead.

“That’s it,” he raps and guides you back up, lining the bulbous head of his cock against your lips. He pushes forward, cock filling your mouth then inching down your throat. Tears trickle down your cheeks, your throat convulsing as you try to accommodate to the width of him. You swallow and swallow, until your nose is buried into the dark curls that crown his length. You can barely breathe. “I knew you could take it all, little one. I know that mouth could do more than talk.”

The heavy palm of his hand moves down your throat, he feels the shape of himself through the skin. His cock twitches when it feels his hand, straining your mouth further.

He pulls out and you gasp for air, his grin is wide as he looks down at you. “I want to make a mess of that face,” with the rough pitch of his words, you roll your hips, your clit catches against his shoe and a loud moan spills from your damp lips. He clicks his tongue with annoyance. “Ask for forgiveness,” he growls, hand moving up and down his cock with hard strokes.

“For what, Father?” your voice is barely above a whisper. And you’re not sure why you asked when you’re going to surrender to his wants regardless of what they are.

“For being a whore,” he spits. “For talking about a past flame and for taking pleasure without permission.”

He watches with heavy eyes as you straighten yourself, his cock aimed directly at your face. You watch him with parted lips. His nail gently traces the vein that curls around the length of him, slick sounds filling the normally silent office. He swipes a thumb over his head and thrusts into his fist.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” you begin. “It has been two weeks since my last confession. I have behaved like a whore, talked about another man in the presence of the clergy, and taken pleasure without permission. I come before you seeking God's forgiveness and guidance.”

“Will you repeat your sins?”

“No, Father. Not unless I have permission to do so.”

His hand quickens, his grip tightening, “Do it then,” he snarls with a devilish smile. “Ask me permission to be a whore.”

Instead of a verbal permission, you part your mouth wide and stick your tongue out. His eyes widen with shock momentarily before understanding. He seems pleased and in return, you feel genuine jot for finally doing something right.

He grips your chin, pulling you away from his leg and directly between his thighs. It doesn’t take him long to go over the age—one, two more strokes and you feel the first string of white come spurting over your face. It drips down your forehead from your face. The sounds Ezra make are unhinged, his hips lifting from the seat as he moans openly into the air, defiling you and marking you as his. His seed feels heavy over your face and with your tongue, you catch a bit of it, moaning as you swallow.

Ezra hunches over you and you feel his tongue on your cheek, taking himself into his mouth, he presses his tongue into your mouth, forcing more of himself inside of you.

When he parts away, you’re dazed, all pretense of the life outside of this church gone.

“My sweet bird, so dirty now,” he purrs, this time he collects more of himself over his fingers and stuffs it into your mouth. Your eyes rolling you swallow over and over. “What do you say?” he asks melodically.

“Thank you, Father.”

#ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x fem!reader #priest!ezra #tw dark content #tw dubcon #pedro pascal characters #hauntedhoedown #pedro pascal character fanfic #prospect fanfic

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cowboylikelils · 3 months

Note

smoking weed with rafe smut or fluff?

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 - rafe cameron

warnings: weed/smoking, reader gets cheated on by her bf with her bsf (briefly mentioned), kissing, allusion to sex

words: 450+ words

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

a/n: ik you asked for smut but im having a writers block rn ;((

You roamed slowly around the neighborhood, a roll-up in your hand, tears stained on your face, your makeup which previously was perfectly blended now all ruined on your face, especially your mascara.

You took another puff, trying to forget the sight of your ‘bestfriend’ on your cheater boyfriend’s dick.

You threw your head back, eyes closed, which soon opened again at the loud revving sound. You turned around to see Rafe, who slowed down and got off the bike as you ignored him, continuing to walk. "Y/N!" He yelled, catching up with you. "What a surprise," he added, chuckling as you roll your eyes slightly. "What do you want, Rafe?" You sighed.

You and Rafe weren't friends, you barely ever talk, and it's the worst moment for you to take any more of his big ego. Sure, you used to like him, he was attractive, rich but his personality? Not the best.

"Can I?" He gestured at the roll-up, and you scoffed, passing him the roll-up. "I heard about you and your boyfriend," He commented, puffing out the smoke.

"Rafe, it's not the time to be a dick," You glare at him. "Alright!" He threw his hands into the air, before giving you back the roll-up.

You two eventually stopped, now sitting on a bench, looking over the beach as you two talked. Surprisingly, you had a good time with him instead of getting annoyed at him.

Soon, you were high enough to be giggling, sitting on his lap with his hands on your thighs and waist. He had a slight smirk on his lips as you rambled about your ex-bestfriend and boyfriend.

"I mean, I should've known, y'know! They were basically eye-fucking the first time they met!" You chuckled bitterly before shutting up as Rafe held the roll-up to your mouth, letting you take a puff before taking another puff himself.

You lean your head on his shoulder, clearly high. He blew the smoke into your face, chuckling when you coughed, a smile still on your face. "Hey!" You slapped his chest, blushing.

Your smile faded a bit when you realized how close your faces were. "Hey there," He teased, still smirking.

"Hi," You giggled as he cupped your face. "Y'know, you weren't very good at keeping your lil crush on me a secret,"

"Wh-" You started.

But he shut you up with a kiss on your lips. He tasted like weed, and you probably do too at this point. He hummed when you kissed him back slowly.

You pull away, you open your mouth to say something but he shushed at you, kissing you again. He moved to your neck, squeezing your waist.

"Fuck," You cursed.

He mumbled against your skin "Let me show you how much better I can make you feel than your shitty excuse of a boyfriend,"

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #⋆｡°✩ lilys work

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mwahaechz · 4 months

Note

Omfg just saw ur dad spiderman mark au AND ITS SOOO GOOD CLD WE PERHAPS GET ANOTHER ONE WHEN his daughter has a bf in kindergarten and mark got super jealous and protective????

EEEEE stop i love spiderdad mark so much 🥹🥹 im so sorry uts been so long anon 😭 but here u go i hope u enjoy <3

spider mark × g!n reader

warnings : fluff, just pure fluff, jealous/overprotective spiderdad mark, spiders, webs, puppy love, kindergarten sweethearts TT, kisses <33, mark is a simp for you !!!!, they’re so in love i might just kms

read pt1 of the spider-dad chronicles. (optional!)

mark wasn’t one to be jealous, he really wasn’t. so why was he glaring daggers at the little boy sitting next to his daughter on-top of the slide. now, don’t get mark wrong, he trusted his daughter with his whole heart. but knowing that everyone but him knew she had a boyfriend at the ripe age of four and a half was baffling.

“babe.. why didn’t you tell me?” mark whined for the nth time, tugging at your shirt as he kept his eyes on the way the little slightly tannedboy treated jinni. you sighed, hugging him and pecking his lips softly.

“she told me she didn’t want me to tell you, plus, i thought donghyuck would’ve told you..”

“dONGHYUCK..?!? shes dating his son?! nope. im not having it.” mark scoffs, shaking his head and standing up straight to walk over to the toddlers.

you place a hand on his chest and softly push him to sit back down on the bench, cupping his face to make him look at you. “mark, just let the kids be.. its only a puppy love, they’ll forget about it eventually when they get older.” you reassure him, leaning in to get a taste of his pouting lips.

“yeah, but… we were also a puppy love, and look at us now!” he softly whines, pouting even more as he squints his eyes at the little boy helping his daughter up the steep steps of the playground.

“babe, we were both in first grade when we met.” you playfully roll your eyes, leaning your head against your husband’s chest.

“so?” he furrows his brows, leaving a kiss on the back of your hand before playing with it.

your heart flutters, a soft blush growing on your cheeks at his random acts of affection that have you falling in love and wanting to get married again. “they��re in kindergarten.” you say, looking up at him from your place on his chest.

he looks down at you, the words in the back of his throat ready to leave when he suddenly forgets everything but the way your pretty eyes look up at him. mark slightly clears his throat, neck and face burning up. “..and? that’s basically the same thing.”

you giggle at the fact that his words don’t really make sense. “we were both either six or seven years old when we were in first grade, mark, the kids are barely four.”

“two years isn’t that much of a difference, they’re basically already in high schoo—” you cut him off by sweetly kissing him, hands cupping his face as he sighs and melts into the kiss. he leans his forehead on yours, arms wrapping around your waist.

your kisses were his favorite thing to destress with. he would go hours and hours just kissing you if he could. the canadian would constantly kiss you, be it anywhere. your husband just couldn’t keep his lips off you, but you loved it.

you loved the way he would melt into your hold when you kissed him, the way he would throw away anything for just a kiss from you, the way he always made sure to kiss you softly and sweetly, not to mention the fact that he always asks before doing so like a proper gentleman.

“so.. why didn’t you tell me about the fact that your son had been hitting on my daughter..?!” the canadian male asks the tanned male, eyes glaring at the younger male. donghyuck chuckles, having pulled off his mask to drink his cup of.. banana milk?

“listen, milk-”

“mark.”

“milk. as i was saying.. it’s not that much of a big deal, it’s just a silly lil’ puppy love.” donghyuck says, shrugging as he chugs the rest of his banana milk. his black and red deadpool suit blending in well with the night as he stands up on the side of the parking lot edge.

mark looks up at the male, softly swinging his legs back and forth as he looks at the night sky instead. “.. my little girl is growing up..” he mumbled, memories of when jinni was first born, when she took her first step, when she finally learned she could shoot webs, when she spoke his name, all flooded his mind as his eyes slightly glossed over.

“i love my family,”

“okay, we get it mister ‘friendly neighborhood spider-dad-man’.”

“oh shut up, donghyuck!”

“make me~ … wAIT. NO. NOT THE WEB- MFPH!”

“you had it coming, lee.”

the ending was slightly rushed bcz i just wanted to publish it before i end up forgetting 😥

but i hope you enjoyed <3

#LIA’s ‘THE INCREDIBLE SPIDER-DAD’ 💌:#nct dream #nct drabbles #nct fanfic #nct dream x reader #love #nct dream fluff #mark lee fluff #mark lee drabbles #mark lee nct #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #spidermark #mark lee #mark fluff #mark #markhyuck #nct fluff #nct mark

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oneforthemunny · 7 months

Note

lazy mornings with mafia!eddie when he doesn't have to work or it's not as pressing and the two of you can be together <3 (also i know it's me lol, just using this as an example lol & bc i had the idea)

Eddie's arm was heavy over your back, the sun peeking through the heavy curtains, a sliver of light that made it's way through and right into your eyes.

The dogs lined the bed, ears down and resting, their chorus of snores rivaling their master's, who was currently drooling in your hair. Open mouth, loud snores pressed into your hair, tattooed hands wrapped around your torso.

"Ed," You groaned, voice groggy with sleep, fist rubbing at your bleared vision. The alarm clock on your side shone bright, red numbers- ten-eleven. It was early for you, late for Eddie, who was usually gone by now. Off to whatever horrifying things await him that he wouldn't tell you about. You didn't want to know anyways.

"Ed," Your voice cracked, feigning on the edge of a whine that had Hades and Lucifer perking up. The most protective of you out of the bunch, especially your baby, Lucy.

Eddie smacked his lips together, brows creasing at the disturbance, his eyes still closed. You hated to wake him up- he needed the sleep, you knew that. It was rare Eddie got a full eight hours- a full six, most of the time. But his arm was a steel gate over you, trapping you from moving.

You shimmied out of his touch, moving his arm as gently as you could, watching as he settled into the warmth your body left behind. Your heart swelled, his curls wilds and bed-messed, cheek smushed to his own silk pillow.

"C'mon," You whispered softly to the dogs, padding across the plush red carpet, walking into your slippers, and snaking Eddie's leather jacket off the bench in front of the bed. The four boys followed expertly, scrambling down the sun drenched marble stairs, bright with the light of the morning.

Eddie's jacket was warm, and you were thankful now the air cool now that the leaves were changing colors. The grass still wet when the dogs scampered out into it, doing their business in the newly renovated garden.

It was quiet, serene even with the looming skies. The chirping of song birds was replaced with crows squawking. "C'mon, boys." You cooed, stepping back to the back door. "Good boys." You hummed, your hand passing over their heads in a soft pat while they filed into the kitchen.

Dog food scooped into bowls, their water filled while they waited, sitting at attention, eyes trained on you expertly until you nodded at them to go. You started the coffee, some gourmet blend Eddie had imported from a Parisian cafe because you told him you liked it once. You insisted he didn't have to go to that trouble, that you'd be find with Folgers or whatever was at Melvald's, but he did it anyways for you.

Heavy steps fell down the marble, quicker than you expected for someone who just woke up. "Morning." You muttered, not bothering to turn around. You knew it was Eddie.

"Morning, baby." Eddie hummed, his voice still gravely with sleep, pillowy lips pressing a warm kiss to your cheek. "Wondered where you went."

"I let the boys out." You move in his arms, your arms settling around his waist, hands smoothing down the soft fabric of some band tee- one you usually stole when Eddie was working long nights. "Decided to make coffee. Was gonna bring it up to you." You frowned at him lightly.

Eddie grinned, lopsided and sleepy. "We can go back up. Just wanted to see where you went."

"Thought I was sneakin' out on ya, hm?" You grin teasingly, his hands tightening on your waist.

"Never." Eddie said firmly, eyes holding yours, curls bobbing when he shook his head. His lips brushed over yours, noses brushing, your arms making their way up his arms. "Just making sure you're alright. You know I can't sleep with out you."

You blushed, a heat burning from your chest, spilling up your neck and cheeks. "I know." You mutter, tilting your chin up to him. "S'you're staying home today?"

"Yeah." Eddie hummed, his breath ticking your lip. "Gare and Max are checking out the warehouse by the quarry, but I," His lips were on yours, a soft peck to the corner of your mouth that had your hear soaring. "Am all yours for today."

#oneforthemunny #munnyblurbs #mafia!eddie munson x reader #mafia!eddie munson #mafia!eddie #mafia!au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 13 days

Text

Endurance 1

Warnings: this fic will include obsessive behaviour, possible non/ducbon, bullying, and other elements which may not be specifically triggered. Please be cautious in continuing on to the story.

Character: Walter Marshall

Summary: A fellow gym go makes your workouts even more taxing.

Please reblog and leave some feedback, preferably in a reblog but you can always drop by my asks. I always love working in y'alls ideas with these AUs so I am so excited to hear from you.

As always, take care of yourself <3 be kind and be patient. Love you.

No tag lists. Please review my pinned and bio for guidelines.

You come out of the changing room and peek at the wall mirror as you pass. You admire your new bubblegum pink leggings and polka dot top. It’s a bit out there but you’ve seen neons in this place that make your retinas burn. Besides, you’ve never been shy when it comes to fashion. It’s not just your passion, it’s your job.

It’s late enough that the bodies there are far and few between. You prefer the nights when the gym feels like a ghost town. The air is quiet but not stagnant.

Your water bottle swings on its handle from your hand as your bouncy steps keep in time with the boppy music thrumming in your earbuds. Your workout mix is a nice blend of retro and contemporary bass hits. You catch yourself humming and stamp it down. Sometimes, you forget other people can perceive you, not that there’s many around to so.

You find an empty mat. They all are. You put your bottle down and start your stretches. Your late night sessions help clear your mind though it never really stops. In your mind, you’re seeing pleats, seams, and ruffles.

Your body moves without thinking. It’s all muscle memory. You’re no gym rat, you don’t go that hard, just enough to loosen up your muscles. Your note overly swoll as the young ones call it. You’re fit enough for a light jog and the stairs don’t leave you winded like they used to.

After your stretches, you slurp loudly from the straw of your water bottle, walking with it still between your lips as you head for an elliptical. You can just let the repetitive motion take over. You pop your lips off the tub and slip the bottle into the little plastic holder on the side of the machine.

As you climb up, you see another figure across the floor. The man sits on the end of a weight bench. For a moment, it looks, even feels, like he’s watching you. From there, you can’t see very well. You don’t wear your glasses in the gym since you lost a pair to a hungry leg press.

You can make out dark hair and his burly form. Hazy but wide enough to clock. Most people around here are stacked. You’re too casual for all that. And you like a piece of tiramisu with your Friday lattes.

You pick your speed and start to climb. You cling to the machine and rock your head to the music. Once more, your throat vibrates and you have to remind yourself to stop. You can’t help it, you love Destiny’s child. Does that date you? For someone working in fashion, you can’t ever risk that.

You zone out, vision blurring as you let your body do the work. The sweat speckles and slicks across your skin. Damn, you might just be bootylicious after this work out.

Your fitbit rumbles and you look down. You’re in the zone. You keep going until you hit thirty minutes and slow down. You cool off for ten minutes and swipe up your bottle, sucking on it greedily as you head back to the mats.

You swing out your arms and stretch your legs in slowly lunges. You bend forward, touching each toe with opposite hand, lingering with your ass up as you brace your hips. A sudden clang has you standing straight so fast you nearly topple onto your butt.

You throw out your arms to catch your balance as you let out a pathetic, ‘woah-oh-oh'. You look over at the man as begins reps with the heavy dumbbells. You’ve never gotten above the tens. His blue eyes flash in your direction and you give a sheepish smile.

You don’t want to seem weird so you return to your stretches. Arms up, lean to one side, then the other. You hear a strange rumble, like thunder, and look over at the man as he continues to work his traps, staring at you. You could even call it a glare.

You tap your ear bud as you face him, “sorry?”

“Do you have to make that noise?” He snarls.

Your brows pop up. We’re you humming again? Oops.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I was,” you smile and before you can tap play, he scoffs.

“Typical,” he grumbles as alternates to biceps.

He’s built. He’s arms are bigger than your head. Probably. You don’t think he’d let you compare for scale. You drop your hand without tapping.

You get down and extend your legs in front of you. His breaths underline your movement as you bend one leg over the other and push your straight arm against it as you twist. As you do the other side, facing him, his gaze flicks over again.

“You put more time into choosing that outfit than you do working out,” he shakes his head.

You blanch. Oh wow. You must have been really out of tune if he’s that grumpy. You give a tight-lipped smile and keep going. He’s not the first grouch you’ve dealt with. Your editor is a chronic miser.

You straight arms and legs and bend to touch your toes. You then pull your arms back and plant your hands. You lift your pelvis and torso and lean your head back, raising yourself in a straight line as you hang your head back.

“Form is off,” he mutters.

You lower back down and look at him again.

“Oh, uh, do you have any tips?” You ask curiously. He grimaces. You push your shoulders up and tilt your head, “well, if you think of any, I'd be happy to work on it. I’d hate to hurt myself.”

You get to your knees and groan as you push yourself to your feet. He tuts as gets down to plank, still gripping the weights. He lifts the left and puts it back down, then the right. You watch him for a minute, impressed by his strength. Your wary of lifting too much, you don’t trust yourself.

“You think your cute,” he sneers under his breath.

“Um, sometimes,” you hover across from him, “I just thought you might know more than me--”

“Of course I do,” he puffs between lifts.

“Mm, okay, well, I’d love to learn--”

“They got trainers for that,” he snips as he finishes his reps and puts his knees down.

“Right, um, sorry to bother then. I was only... asking,” you turn and grab your bottle.

You flip the top up again and slurp. You get to the bottom, sucking air loudly up before giving up. He huffs and stands with the weights, slamming them back on the rack.

“Do you have to make so much goddamn noise?” He stands straight and turns to you, crossing his thick arms. You stop short and part your lips.

“It’s empty, I didn’t--”

“It’s not the only thing’s that empty,” he taps his skull, “go back to the mall, girl.”

You scrunch your nose, “you don’t have to be rude, mister.”

“Honesty is a gift,” he snorts.

You pull your chin back. You didn’t mean to annoy him and you apologised already. You’re a nice person but you don’t appreciate his tone.

“Well, if I’m being honest,” you put your hands on your hips, “you’re not very nice.”

He chortles as a crease forms in his forehead, “and you’re not as cute as you think.”

“What does it matter what I think I am?” You challenge, “I didn’t ask you.”

“No, you just float around like some airhead and disturb everyone else,” he accuses.

You peer around, “there’s no one here.”

He drops his arms and lifts his chin. He steps forward and you waver, just a bit, put off by his size.

“I’m here,” he says.

You blink. What does that mean?

He takes another step and you stare at him, necks and cheek burning. His words strike an epiphany. It’s just you and him. He’s a lot stronger than you.

Another step and you put your hands up, “mister, you better not come any closer.”

He scoffs again, “or what? Are you going to cry?”

You pout and shake your head, “no, but I... I could scream. Or bite.”

He shakes his head, “what do you think I’m gonna do, girl? That’s what you do, isn’t it? Make yourself the victim. You need the attention to make you feel special.”

He’s getting closer.

“I said stay away,” you project your voice as best you can, “I’m not afraid of you, mister.”

He chuckles and tilts his head. He stops, just a step away from you, “aren’t you?’

Your eyes meet his and you stand trapped in the snare of his glower. His blue eyes are deep and fiery, his chiseled face is framed by dark curls and a thick beard, and his chin is cleft handsomely. He’s fearsome, a bear in man’s flesh. You’re no more than helpless hare.

You back away and his mouth slants in triumph. He’s won. You turn and gulp, gripping tight your bottle as your sneaker squeaks loudly. You scurry away, buzzing with adrenaline.

“That’s right, you run away, girl, run as fast as you can,” he calls after you, “not very, I’m sure.”

You keep a brisk walk as you hurry towards the locker room and push inside. Your heart is hammering and your breathless as you reach your locker. You put the bottle on the bench and clutch the sides of your head. You’re dizzy as you try to get a rein on your frazzled nerves.

You thought you left the bullies behind in high school, over a decade ago. In that second, you’re right back in your teenage years. Your eyes sting with tears and your stomach churns with humiliation. That glimmer of insecurity creeps back into you.

No, no. You’re an adult. You’re a grown woman. You have a job and a life you love. You’re nothing they said you were. You proved them all wrong and you will prove that butthead wrong too.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #drabble #series #gym au #au #night hunter #endurance

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writingforstraykids · 11 days

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I owe you a kiss - Pt.9

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 2943

Summary: Minho and you spend a day at the art gallery, Chan takes you out for dinner by the river. Both of them try their best to make room for you and reconnect. You haven't been so happy in a while.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, dinner date, museum date, soft!min, soft!chan

A/N: Thought I'd surprise you with another chapter today that I wrote after posting chapter 8. I think we could use the fluff🤭🖤

PART EIGHT | PART TEN (coming soon)

You exchange a soft smile with your husband, tilting your head at him. “You’re okay?” you ask gently. For a moment, all you can hear is the low hum of the city life outside the window.

“Let’s go out today?” he asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the calm. “Just you and me.”

You study Minho’s face, swallowing at the hope in his eyes. It’s been three weeks since you clashed and you’ve been working on easing out the many strains those past months have taken on your life. Sometimes, Minho seemed a little hesitant, not knowing if you’d let him in enough. “Where would we go?” you ask, allowing a small smile to cover your lips.

“You mentioned that art exhibit at the new gallery downtown a few days ago. I thought you might want to see?” he suggests gently.

You feel warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of him still remembering that. “That sounds wonderful,” you say excitedly. “I would love to.”

“Yeah?” He smiles so sweetly that you reach out for him. He leans into your touch as you caress his cheek and searches your eyes carefully.

“Yes, darling,” you mirror his smile.

The two of you get ready in comfortable silence, side by side, occasionally sharing glances that hold soft smiles and unspoken words. As you step outside, hand in hand, the city greets you with the vibrant colors of an early evening. The sun, low in the sky, paints everything in hues of orange and gold.

The gallery is a modern space with stark white walls filled with vibrant art. You wander through the exhibits, Minho’s presence a steady warmth at your side. You’re busy looking at the different pieces, but his eyes can’t stop finding you. Once more, he notices how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, and how safe you always make him feel. A small smile settles on his lips as he watches you, following you around the rooms willingly.

At one painting, a chaotic blend of dark and light, you pause longer than at the others. Minho beside you observes the play of emotions across your face. “What do you see?” he asks quietly, not asking about the painting but the meaning you give it.

Your eyes linger on the canvas, chewing your lip a little. “Struggle,” you say, your voice soft in the almost empty room. “But there’s beauty in it too. The colors clash, and still they harmonize…it’s almost like…,” you pause, not quite sure if you should continue.

“It’s like us,” Minho finishes for you, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns to look at you, his gaze filled with understanding. “Finding our beauty in the struggle. Finding some light in the darkness.”

You meet his gaze, your heart aching at the truth of his words. You reach for his hand, fingers intertwining naturally as if they were made to fit together. “Thank you for bringing me here,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.

Minho’s thumb strokes your hand gently, and his eyes soften. “I’d go anywhere with you,” he replies.

You continue your walk through the gallery, and once you step outside, the sky has turned into a velvety blue, and and stars begin to peek out. You decide to take a little detour on your way back home, walking through the park. The city sounds soften in the background, replaced by the rustle of leaves and distant laughter.

The park is lit by scattered lamps, casting their golden lights on the winding path. You walk slowly, comfortable in the peace you feel with him. At a bench by the duck pond, you sit down with him, gazing at the water that glitters beneath the moonlight.

The air is cool by now, a gentle breeze teasing your skin, making you shiver. Minho notices almost immediately, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm hug. You lean against him, head resting against his shoulder, and sigh happily. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Minho confesses, voice laced with a warmth that reminds you he’s your home. “I missed just being with you without having to try and function. Just..us.”

You turn to look at him, eyes finding his in the dim light. “We don’t always have to be strong, do we? We can just be us, flaws and all.”

“No, we don’t always have to be strong,” Minho agrees, his hand gently cupping your face. As long as we’re together…that’s enough. That’s more than I could’ve ever asked for,” he whispers. Your lips meet in a gentle kiss before he squeezes your shoulder. “Let’s get back home, hm?”

The walk back is quiet but comfortable. As you reach the doorstep, Minho stops, turning to you with a serious expression on his face. “Let’s make a promise,” he says, eyes locking with yours. “No matter what happens, we keep fighting together, we keep finding beauty in the chaos.”

You nod, face softening at the desperation in his eyes. “I promise.”

Minho leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss to seal your promise. It’s soft and sweet and holds the promise and gentle words of today. “Come on, honey. Let’s see if Channie’s home yet,” he says, and you nod happily.

Inside, the house is quiet, making the atmosphere feel almost too serene. As you shed your coats and shoes, Minho calls out gently, not wanting to startle Chan, who might be home. There's no response, and he leads you through to the kitchen, where a note on the counter catches your eye.

"Out with Felix and Binnie. Don't wait up. - Chan" reads the neatly penned message, Minho's lips turning up in a small, knowing smile. "Guess it's just us tonight," he comments.

You nod, missing Chan but also relishing the quiet intimacy that the evening promises with just the two of you. "What do you feel like for dinner?" you ask, turning towards the fridge.

Minho shrugs, watching you with an affectionate gaze. "Anything's fine, as long as I'm with you," he replies, his tone soft.

Deciding on something light and easy, you opt to make a salad with all the fresh ingredients you have, adding grilled chicken for some warmth and substance. Minho sets the table, his movements relaxed, a playlist of soft music filling the background.

As you both sit down to eat, the conversation flows more freely than it has in weeks. Gradually, the dialogue drifts towards more personal topics, about how you've both been feeling and the little things you've missed about each other.

"It's been tough, hasn't it?" Minho says at one point, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. "But nights like this... they remind me why it's worth it. Why we're worth it."

You reach across the table, your hand covering his. "It has been tough. But I wouldn't want to face it with anyone but you," you admit, your voice thick with emotion.

After dinner, you clear the dishes together, a routine that feels comforting in its normalcy. Minho washes, you dry, and there's a gentle efficiency to your movements, a dance you've performed countless times before, each step familiar and reassuring.

With the kitchen tidied up, Minho suggests a walk outside. The night air is still warm enough to be inviting. "Let's just walk around the block, a little night stroll," he proposes, and you agree readily.

Outside, the neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are dimmed for the evening, and their inhabitants are likely winding down much like yourselves. You walk hand in hand, your steps unhurried, the silence between you comfortable and easy.

At one point, Minho stops, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "I love you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I don't say it enough, but I do. So very much."

"I love you too," you respond, leaning back to look into his eyes. “And you're right. Nights like tonight remind me of us, of what we have and what we're fighting for."

Returning home, you settle onto the sofa, Minho pulling a blanket over you both. You lean into him, your head on his shoulder, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Let's not wait so long to do this again," you suggest, your voice muffled against his shirt.

"Yeah," Minho says, his arm tightening around you.

As you nod in agreement, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, you realize that the struggles and the chaos of the past weeks have not been in vain. They've brought you to this moment, safe in Minho’s arms.

Chan finds himself back earlier than he planned. After his evening out, he feels the pull of home - of you and Minho - stronger than the laughter and light of the city streets. As he approaches the house, his heart is a mix of nerves and hope. He unlocks the door quietly, half-expecting to find the house still echoing with the tension of previous weeks.

Instead, he steps into a soft-lit silence, low music playing in the living room where he finds you and Minho asleep on the sofa, intertwined under a shared blanket. The sight makes him stop in the doorway, a gentle smile spreading across his face as relief washes over him. Here, in this scene of peaceful slumber, he sees the healing that has begun between you. It almost feels as if you’ve never struggled.

Chan sets down his keys quietly and walks over, his movements gentle to avoid waking you. The intimacy of the moment - the way Minho's arm encircles your waist, how your head rests against his chest - is so sweet. It reminds him of the depth of love and commitment that binds you together, a stark contrast to the coldness that had crept into your interactions lately.

Chan reaches down, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is feather-light, a silent vow to himself to mend the threads of your relationship that he's held too loosely. The small action makes you stir, and your eyes flutter open, meeting his in a sleepy state.

"Channie," you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. "You're back early."

He nods, his hand moving from your hair to gently squeeze your shoulder. "Couldn't stay away too long," he admits, his voice low and warm. "I missed home."

Minho stirs next to you, his eyes opening to Chan's familiar presence. "Hey," he greets, his voice rough with sleep "We were just waiting up for you," Minho teases lightly, though the crinkles by his eyes show his sincerity. He sits up, adjusting the blanket over you, ensuring you're still covered and warm.

Chan chuckles softly, the sound soothing the lingering edges of his earlier anxiety. "It looks like you did more sleeping than waiting," he observes gently.

"Join us," you say, patting the space beside you.

As Chan settles beside you, the weight of the past weeks—the misunderstandings, fears, and pain—seems to lift slightly. Together, you sit in the soft glow of the room, the silence comfortable, filled only with the soft sounds of your synchronized breathing.

As the evening deepens into night, you all decide it's time to move from the sofa to the bed. Hand in hand, you help each other tidy up the living space before heading to the bedroom.

You all get comfortable in bed, Chan, in the middle this time, turns to face each of you, his eyes holding a soft light. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "For this. For us."

Minho reaches to squeeze his hand. “We love you, Channie.”

“I love you too,” he smiles happily.

Chan had suggested it: a quiet evening out, just the two of you. You agreed to the promise of a few hours solely with him, which sounded too good to pass. Chan suggested a small restaurant by the river, one that promised a breathtaking view.

Now that the evening is here, you feel nervous, a soft flutter in your stomach. It reminds you of the early days, the first few dates, and the awkward dance of not wanting to choose between Minho and him. You spend quite some time picking your outfit, wanting to feel beautiful and hoping to see the spark in Chan’s eyes you haven’t seen in a while.

Chan is not one bit less nervous than you are, choosing a simple but elegant shirt he knows you like. When he sees you, ready and waiting, his breath catches in his throat. “You look so beautiful,” he manages, his voice rough with emotion. The sincerity in his gaze and the slow smile covering his lips make your heart beat faster, and your eyes water a little.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

“Thanks,” he smiles shyly, blushing a little.

The drive to the restaurant is quiet, with music playing in the background. Chan parks near the river just as the sun is slowly dipping below the horizon, painting the water with a golden glow.

Hand in hand, you walk to the cozy restaurant, which has soft lighting and a gentle, nonintrusive conversation. You choose a table near a window with a view of the river, now shimmering under the first touches of twilight.

You two fall into easy conversation as you eat, yet beneath the lightness of their conversation, deeper topics linger at the edges, waiting. "Y/n," he begins, his voice serious but gentle. “I know things have been tough. I know I've been... distant. Not because I want to be, but because I've been scared - scared of doing the wrong thing, of saying the wrong thing."

"Chan, I understand. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed, too, scared of pushing you away or making things harder for you,” you admit gently.

“I never meant to feel like you couldn’t come to me…or that Min is more important to me,” he tells you guiltily.

“I know,” you reply, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “But we're here now, and that’s what matters. We can find our way back together.”

Chan’s smile returns, his eyes lighting up as if a weight has been lifted. “I’d like that. A lot.”

As dinner comes to an end, Chan suggests a walk along the river. The cool breeze from the water is refreshing, and the rhythmic sound of the waves against the shore is soothing.

“Look at the moon,” Chan points up, and you both stop to gaze at the full moon, casting a silver glow over the river. It’s beautiful and peaceful, and for a moment, it feels like everything is right in the world.

“It’s gorgeous,” you comment, leaning into him.

Chan wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Not as gorgeous as you,” he says, which makes you both chuckle.

The moment feels right, and you stop walking and turn to face him. “Chan, thank you for tonight. It means a lot to me. I’ve missed just being with you like this.”

He cups your face gently, his touch tender. “I’ve missed it, too—more than I realized. Let’s not let it go again, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, and he leans in to kiss you softly and sweetly under the moonlight by the river.

On the drive home, the car is filled with comfortable silence. A song that you both love comes on the radio, and Chan reaches over to turn it up. You smile and start to sing along quietly. He joins in, and soon, you’re both laughing and singing at the top of your lungs.

Chan parks the car in front of your house and turns to you with a giddy smile. You smile softly, leaning over to cup his face. “My beautiful Channie angel,” you whisper, and he blushes a little. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he smiles shyly. “My sweet baby girl.”

Minho greets you with a gentle smile as you step inside. “Had fun, you two?” he asks gently, giggling surprised as you give him a long, soft kiss. “Hey, darling,” he whispers adoringly.

“Come cuddle with us?” you plead softly, making him laugh.

“Please?” Chan asks sweetly, kissing his cheek.

“Fine, fine,” he laughs. “Go get ready for bed, I’ll be there in a bit,” he promises.

Not much later you’re all comfortable in bed. You’re in the middle, feeling safe between them. To your left, Minho’s warmth is a comforting pressure against your side, his arm thrown loosely over your waist. His fingers draw mindless patterns on the fabric of your nightshirt. Chan’s body is curved around yours protectively, his breath softly tickling your neck. Minho shifts a little, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His eyes meet Chan’s in a silent agreement of how much they love you.

“Comfortable?” Minho asks softly, barely above a whisper, as if he’s scared of speaking too loudly.

“Very,” you nod, agreeing. You turn your head slightly to smile at him, reaching to touch his cheek. Chan responds by tightening his embrace around you, his hand splaying across your stomach, grounding you.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the only sounds are the soft rustling of the sheets and the steady, rhythmic breathing of three hearts in sync. You find yourself tracing the lines of Chan’s hand after a while, feeling the strength and warmth of his fingers intertwined with yours. Minho, feeling a surge of affection, leans over to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead, then Chan’s jaw. Chan smiles at the gesture, a small, happy sound escaping his lips. It feels perfect.

PART EIGHT | PART TEN (coming soon)

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @kailee08 @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ontito0icongirls @furiousheartpoetry @bluesiebirdie @scarlet789 @ziipzeepzop-eez @lost-in-avoidance @dprkbyn @bear8585 @lee-knows-cats @mintchip17 @zdgx1 @zerefdragn33l @chansducky10 @melanctton @0325tiny @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @daisyjihannie @felixs-brownies78 @roriiror

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theehoneeybee · 6 months

Text

Talking in Your Sleep. Chapter 2.

Talking in Your Sleep - I Remember Nothing

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

series m.list

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The warm sun beat down, dancing through the trees leaving a pattern of intricate shadows on the grass below. The chirping of the birds hidden amongst the trees blended in with the chatter of the many families. Nebraska was beautiful this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. The smell of the pine trees was unforgettable. It was refreshing and would linger in your clothes even days after you had left. Mike sat on the wooden bench, worn down from years of use. His dad cooked up burgers on the barbeque, the delicious smell wafting through the air. His mum sat opposite him putting sauce on her burger.

His dad laughed, "How about some burger with that ketchup?"

"Everything is better swimming in ketchup," she smiled.

Garrett was playing nearby, running around the campsite with his bright orange toy plane and making engine noises. He always loved toy planes, but that orange one was his favourite. He took it everywhere. Mike's mum knocked over a drink, spilling the sticky liquid over the bench. She sighed.

"I'm going to get some towels. Go watch your brother."

Mike smiled and nodded, getting up to go find Garrett. A bright yellow frisbee flew by catching Mike's attention. He wandered over to find it so he could throw it back to its owner. Kids were always leaving their toys behind here. One year, Garrett had left his favourite orange plane behind. The second he realised, hours into the drive home, there was a flood of tears. Of course, his parents turned around and drove all the way back to get it. The sudden revving of a car engine next to Mike pulled him out of the memory.

"Garrett?"

Inside the the car, staring out the rear view window, was Garrett.

"Garrett!" Mike called out frantically, dropping the yellow frisbee to the floor.

The car started to move off and Mike ran as fast as he could. Garrett stared back at him, orange plane in hand, slowly getting further and further from Mike's reach. The navy blue car drove off as Mike screamed for his brother. There was nothing he could do. Garrett was gone.

Mike awoke from his sleep drenched in sweat. Every night he had the same dream. It was a memory he relived from his childhood. The day Garrett was taken. He turned off his alarm and ripped his headphones off his head. Mike listened to nature sounds at night to relive the memory. It was a technique he had taken from the Dream Theory book. No matter how many times he would have that dream, Mike was never able to see who took Garrett. The mans face was always hidden in shadow and the dreams were the same every time, nothing new ever coming to light.

Mike got out of bed and started his morning routine. Every morning he would do a set of push ups. It helped to clear his head from his dreams the night before. He wandered tiredly into the kitchen and began to cook breakfast for himself an Abby. His sister was still fast asleep. Her drawings were always strewn across the house. Whenever Abby had time to, she would be drawing. Even in school, instead of playing with the other children, she would be drawing. And of course, there was the imaginary friends. The only people Abby talked to were these friend. She barely spoke to Mike, but with her friends she would talk non-stop. Mike couldn't help but worry about her. Without their parents, it was up to him to raise her and so far he felt like he wasn't doing a good job.

Mike knocked on her door. "Abby, get up or we're going to be late." No response. "Abby?"

He knocked on the door again before slowly opening it up. Of course, Abby was sitting at her desk, lost in the colours of another drawing. Mike sighed.

"Abby, you need to come eat breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," she says, carrying on with her drawing.

"You need to eat."

Abby doesn't budge. Mike tries to take the crayons away but Abby won't let him. They struggle over the dandelion yellow crayon until it snaps, the broken half cluttering against the wooden desk.

Mike sighed. "Whatever, I don't care. But you should know what happens to little girls that don't eat. They stay the same size forever, and they never get to ride the adult rides at the amusement park."

Abby contemplated, looking over to her bed as if another person was sitting there, waiting to have their turn to speak. "My friend says you're an idiot."

Mike stares at the spot on the bed, then at Abby. "At least I'm real."

Mike closed the door and headed back into the kitchen. He picked up the phone, dialling Max to see if she could babysit. Mike wouldn't say him and Max were friends. The only time he really saw her was when she was babysitting Abby. Mike was surprised Max hadn't bailed out on him yet since he hasn't been able to pay her. Maybe it was just routine at this point - a call and a promise to pay that never actually manifests. When Mike was in between jobs, he could handle Abby just fine. But now working nightshifts, Max's help was more crucial than ever. Luckily enough for him, Max agreed.

The minutes ticked by and Abby still hadn't left her room. At this rate, they would definitely be late. Abby was a good kid. Mike knew that. But he didn't want her school life to suffer more than it already does. Abby's teacher was great. She genuinely wanted to see his sister thriving. She was always updating Mike with her progress. Abby was incredible bright, always getting remarkable grades, but she just couldn't seem to connect with the other students. The other kids weren't excluding her or bullying her - they had tried to be friends with her, but when she didn't reciprocate they eventually just gave up.

Abby finally emerged just before Mike was about to drag her out of her room. With a cold shoulder, she walked straight part Mike and headed for the door, not saying a word. Mike huffed. At least she was out. Abby gazed out the window, watching as other people and cars flew by. Most mornings were a struggle and it seemed like there was nothing Mike could do to help. The line for the school drop off seemed to go on forever. Mike groaned, gripping the steering wheel with annoyance and they moved forward, inch by inch. After what felt like hours, it was finally their turn.

"Abs," Mike said before she could hop out. "Please try to make some friends today."

"I already have friends," Abby retorted and got out of the car. Her brightly coloured backpack stuffed full of paper and crayons swinging behind her as she walked into the school. Mike watched her go, making sure she got inside safely before driving off.

Jane, and her rather incompetent looking lawyer, sat opposite Max and her brother. Sparky's diner was the go-to restaurant in this small town. Coffee, pancakes, and delicious lunches. It was hard to beat. The tension in the air was palpable as Max's brother stared down the pair, elbows resting on the table was he waited for someone to make the first move. They all eyed each other in anticipation. But right as Jane was about to open her mouth, an overly-cherry young server stops by their booth. 'Ness', his nametag reads.

"Welcome to Sparky's! Can I set you folks up with some appetizers?" he asks, creased laminated menus in hand.

As he begins to hand out the menus, Jane gathers them up, shoving them back into his hands. He doesn't look fazed.

"Aw! That's no fun." Ness turns to Jane, "You do realise lunch is the most important meal of the day?"

The table looks confused and Max's brother pipes in, "I thought it was breakfast?"

"Some people say that," Ness explains, "But, y'know, it's just a theory."

Annoyed, Jane ushers him away to begin their discussion. Max was being paid by Jane to search Mike's house under the guise of babysitting. Well, she was meant to be paid. Since Max had found nothing, Jane was refusing to pay them. Max had searched the house top to bottom, looking in every drawer and crevice, but alas there was nothing. Not a single thing that she could use to frame Mike as an unfit guardian. This result displeased Jane.

"We had a deal," Max argued.

Jane laughed. "Yeah, that you were going to find me hard proof of criminal endangerment."

Doug looked more than uncomfortable. He clutched his brief case to his chest. When Max's brother half-jokingly suggested that they kill Mike, he shot up in his seat. He muttered under his breath that he shouldn't be here, that he shouldn't be hearing any of this. Jane forced him back down, much to his dismay.

"How about we toss the place?" Max suggests. "He needs this job to look good for the court. He's a security guard. It's his job to make sure nobody gets in."

Jane mulls over the idea for a minute before agreeing. Max and her brother want two thousand dollars as their reward, to this, Jane scoffs. One thousand. Defeated, the two agree. Money is money after all. They leave the diner to set their plan into motion. Doug looked like he's about to have a heart attack.

You couldn't help dreading the night ahead. Another cold, slow shift. Six hours usually felt like twelve. You wished there was heating in the building. The thin, cracked walls always let the freezing breeze run through the pizzeria. Even if there was some kind of heating system, it would probably burn the place down. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. You hugged your hoodie tighter to your body, a thick blanket hanging over your shoulders. Like the pizzeria, your apartment was freezing. You could barely afford rent, so paying for heating on top of that was far from a priority. Then in summer, the house was an oven. The jammed windows couldn't open far enough for you to let in a breeze, and the hole-filled curtains did nothing to stop the sun beating in. You didn't know which was worse.

11:16. It was time to start getting ready. The first step in your pre-work routine was making a hot cup of coffee. There was no way in hell you could get through your shift otherwise. It would help warm you up too. You sipped on the hot beverage, steam flushing your face. You chucked on your vest, adding another layer of warmth. Loose threads hung from the seams and the zip would only go up half way. It was made of a cheap plastic-y material that you could easily rip with your bare hands. You began the drive to Freddy's. Your car was on the verge of death too, another expense you couldn't afford. The check engine light had been on for longer than you'd like to admit. Whenever it managed to start up in the morning felt like a miracle.

You felt your heart drop when you pulled into the parking lot of the pizzeria. A cop car was parked by the door, the officer waiting inside her car. You knew who it was. Vanessa would check in on the place once a week or so. She seemed a bit too invested for your liking. You got out of the car, the cold air chilling you to your bones.

"Evening Vanessa," you greeted her as she got out of the car. Her usually cheery atmosphere replaced by something much more sinister.

"Evening," she replied. "How was last night?" Vanessa walked up to the gate, tugging on the chain to ensure to was locked. Mike had just arrived, just as shocked as you to see a cop here. He cautiously approached. Vanessa turned to him, surprised to see another security guard. "Who's this?"

"This is Mike," you introduced him. "Raglan hired him as another guard. Yesterday was his first day."

Something changed in Vanessa's expression. She looked Mike up and down before turning to you. "The place got broken into earlier today. Either of you know anything about that?" Vanessa interrogated.

Your stomach turned. You were sure you had locked everything up. Your mind raced. Was there something you had missed? Were you too caught up trying to train Mike that you had forgotten something? "What happened?" you stuttered out.

Vanessa glanced between the two of you. She explained that a group of idiots had broken into the place, trashing it and causing a lot of damage. You were overcome with guilt. Mike watched as the colour drained from your face. Vanessa was very pissed off, arms crossed over her uniformed torso as she narrowed her gaze. "There's two of you here now, there's no way a mistake like this should happen," Vanessa scolded. "I'll be back tomorrow and there better not be any problems." She gave you one last look of disappointment before getting in her car and driving off.

You avoided Mike's gaze as you opened up the pizzeria. As soon as you stepped inside, you saw just how much damage they had done. Arcade machines were smashed and knocked over, the prize cabinet destroyed, tables and chairs flipped. You winced, biting your lip anxiously.

"Go set up the monitors," you ordered Mike with a wobbly voice. "I'll start cleaning up here."

Wordlessly, Mike made his way down the vandalised halls to the security office. He glanced back at you, watching as your eyes poured over the mess. Second night and he had already screwed up. Mike had a nagging feeling that it was his fault Freddy's had gotten broken into, but you got all the blame from Vanessa. Even the security office had been attacked. Junk was thrown everywhere from the vandals trying to find anything of value. The rusty metal grid that covered the vent had been pulled off. It looked like it had been bashed in as the thin metals bars were bent and broken. After Mike had switched on the monitors, he began to tidy up the office. He opened up one of the locked, jumping back in fright when the uncanny face of a small clown toy stared back at him. The toys wide eyes and empty smile sent shivers down his spine. Mike turned it around so he wouldn't have to look at it. Inside the locker was a dusty old security vest, the same one you adorned. Mike gave it a shake, years of dust and a couple of moths flying out in the process. He chucked it on over his hoodie. Perfect fit - like someone had left it there just for him.

Mike walked through the back hallways, trying to find the supply closet. The least he could do was help you clean up the mess. As he searched the musty shelves, he was met with another creepy balloon boy doll. Cursing under his breath, Mike turned it around and pushed it to the very back of the shelf. He still felt it's plastic eyes staring at him. Mike quickly grabbed the vacuum and rushed out.

You silently swept up the broken glass, keeping your gaze lowered to the floor. Mike quietly made his way over to you, wordlessly beginning to vacuum over the carpet you had cleaned. The vacuum hadn't been used in almost two decades, the cheap plastic that it was made from had yellowed and cracked over time, but it got the job done. Mike continued to glance over at you as you swept. He wanted to express the guilt he felt but the words couldn't find their way out. You began to try moving the tables back into place but struggled with the weight and large size of them. Mike put the vacuum to the side and helped you carry them.

"I'm sorry," he managed to get out. "It's probably my fault the place got broken into."

You sighed, "Don't blame yourself, Mike. I've been doing this job longer than you. I should've known better." Your voice wobbled as your spoke, holding back tears. There was no way you were going to cry in front of some stranger you had met only last night.

"It's okay-" Mike tried to comfort you.

"No, it's not okay," you snapped, taking out your frustrations on Mike. "I could get fired over this. I know you don't really give a shit about this job, but I do. I can't afford to lose it."

Mike felt his temper beginning to rise. "I need this job just as much as you do. You don't know shit about me, so don't assume I'm just doing this for fun."

Before you could retort, heavy footsteps echoed from around the corner. The two of you fell silent, listening intently as a robotic whirr accompanied each step. You felt your blood run cold. A large, dark shadow cast itself against the patterned walls. You thought your mind was playing tricks on you. Projected on the wall was the distinct shape of two large rabbit ears. The sounds grew louder as the threat moved closer, gears grinding witch each step it took. Mike grabbed your arm, ushering you to hide beneath one of the tables, hidden away in the shadows. You stayed close to him, barely able to breathe as it moved closer. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Around the corner turned Bonnie. Its one bright blue fur faded and matted, stained from years of children with grubby pizza-hands touching it. Its head turned with methodical mechanical movement. The usually friendly plastic eyes now bright red, shining with what you can also see as bloodlust. You cover your mouth, hiding a gasp of shock. Never in your weeks here had you seen anything like this. Creepy humming? Random footsteps? Sure. But this was on another level. Instinctively, you move closer to Mike, staring up at him with wide, fearful eyes. His jaw is clenched, shoulders tense and his eyes are glued on Bonnie. The animatronic slowly makes its way to the main floor. It was looking for something. Someone. Its footsteps shook the ground like an earthquake, kilograms of engineering thudding along. Bonnie walked around the room, stopping right in front of the table you were hiding underneath. Mike reaches his arm across you, making sure you were as far back from it as you could be.

You never realised how big they were up close. Its feet alone were massive, easily bigger than your head. Bonnie wasn't leaving. While you couldn't see it, you could hear the mechanical parts groaning as its head turned around, surveying the room. Your heart was pounding so loud, you were sure it could hear you. The animatronic smelt horrible. It smelt like rot. Like death. Maybe there was old rotten pizza stuck on it somewhere, or maybe a rat had died in it. You wanted to vomit. You clenched your eyes shut, bringing your knees up to your chest.

Mike didn't move, frozen in place. When was it going to leave? Sure, Mike had felt fear before. When his brother was taken from him he felt scared, the anxiety gnawing away at him for the next decade. But this was different. This wasn't being frightened. This was being terrified for your life. This was being in immediate danger. His heart was racing. Time felt like it was at a standstill. The animatronic turned to face the table, it's bulky arms grabbing onto the edge. It was thinking. It knew you were there. Suddenly, a loud shatter echoed from the kitchen. You heard Bonnie turn its head. After what felt like forever, it let go of the table, stomping away to investigate the noise.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding. The two of you stayed tucked away under the table until you were sure it was gone. Mike left first, slowly standing up to look around. He motioned for you to come out. Anxiously, you left the safety of the table. Quickly but quietly, you both raced to the security room, immediately barricading the door.

"What the fuck was that?" Mike shouts at you. You couldn't even form a sentence, still in shock. "Did you know about this?"

"No!" you promised. "I didn't know! How could I?"

Mike slouched into the chair, running his hand through his curly brown hair. "That robot bunny just tried to fucking kill us. You've been putting that chair under the door for 'safety', and you're telling me you didn't know?"

You sat down in your chair, hugging yourself for comfort. "I didn't know..." you whisper. "Sometimes there's noises where I think someone's there, but no one is. The chair was just to calm my nerves." Mike looked at you suspiciously. "I promise," you defended, almost on the brink of tears. "If I had known those things could move around like that, do you think I'd still be here?"

Mike checked the time. 5:12am. He spun around in his chair, watching over the monitors intently. There was nothing. No movement. Nothing out of place. Were you both losing it? Maybe there was a carbon monoxide leak and you were both just hallucinating. "We should go," he says. "It doesn't look like they're out there."

"It's not even six yet-"

"I don't care," he cuts you off. "We're not spending another second here."

Mike stood up, slowly creaking open the door and checking down the hallway. He gives you a nod and you carefully follow behind him. The second you saw the door in sight, you both started to run, slamming it behind you and immediately locking up. You follow Mike to his car. It was old, years of sun damage had caused the paint to fade and peel off. The two of you leant against the car, the icy wind stinging your face.

"I'm sorry," you apologised. "I shouldn't have yelled at you before, and I'm sorry about the bunny. I really didn't know," you whispered.

Mike nodded. "It's whatever. I shouldn't have yelled either. Sorry."

You began to walk to your car. "Will I see you tomorrow?" The thought of coming back shook you to your core, but at least you wouldn't be alone.

"We'll see."

#mike schmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt #william afton #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #matthew lillard

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