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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

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Danny used to be a vigilante, firmly on the side of good. Like, illegally, but morally good.

Danny’s 100% sure that whatever he is now, it’s not good.

Is Gotham’s influence just Like That?

He was homeless when he got to this thrice damned city (literally, because Lady Gotham was so cursed) and now he’s… here? In a mid-level penthouse with a rotation of homeless kids going in and out of his kitchen and eating out his pantry??

Danny adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt, making the conscious decision to ditch the tie. He’s a tall 6ft 4 now, taking after his Dad. His head smarted all of the time, hitting doorframes when he was being a bit clumsier than the normal ghost-like grace he had learned to channel as The Phantom.

The Phantom instead of just Phantom. Why? Because Phantom was the name of a teenage vigilante in another dimension. The Phantom, on the other hand, is an intimidatingly tall, deceptively kind, extremely dangerous kingpin.

Honestly? Danny didn’t even want this life. Like, he had no idea it would snowball like this??

He supposed that it all started when the Penguin was trying to snatch kids off of his block on Crime Alley. Not officially his block, of course, because Danny didn’t actually enter this city to be a crime-shadow thing. But he hadn’t lost enough of Phantom the Vigilante to ignore kids getting hurt. He still hasn’t, if he’s being honest. He flew into a frantic search, tracking down the missing kids to Penguin’s bar. The Iceberg Lounge. Apparently, he wanted the kids to do some menial tasks and what not. Danny, rage flickering through his core, intangibly went in and robbed Penguin of every coin and secret the man kept.

Then? Danny blackmailed the Penguin to guarantee his kids a measure of safety from the Rogue. That began the slippery slope into whatever it is he does now. Penguin was being kept in line by Danny’s threats, the grip he had on the Rogue’s weak points, and a wonderful bit of intimidation.

——

“What, you stinking phantom? I’m stickin’ to yer rules!” Penguin snarled, forced to his knees by invisible blob ghosts.

Danny, salty and pissy from the lack of sleep he’d experienced trying to keep Penguin’s men in line as a result of Penguin trying to test where Danny’s lines were, dropped the temperature to the point where Penguin started shivering. Considering the place was already cold- the Iceberg lounge lived up to its name- it meant that Danny was standing nonchalantly in a room that was negative twenty five degree Celsius in a sweatshirt, Danny was already making good on his natural intimidation factor.

“It’s The Phantom to you, Oswald.” Danny said, in the tone of someone saying “it’s the shit, to you.”

Danny narrowed his blue eyes, letting a tiny tint of ectoplasm make his eyes glow a bit in the suddenly icing over room.

“Your people have been getting on my nerves, Oswald. Roughing up kids is so… uncultured. Are you sure you’re a Cobblepot?”

Penguin snarled, the effect of which was rendered ineffective due to his increasingly violent shivers. Plus, Danny loomed over him without even trying.

Danny, annoyed and asking himself “What Would Dan Do To Intimidate This Guy?”, gripped Penguin’s shoulder and hauled him up one handed. He dragged the mob boss over to one of the booths, avoiding the bodies he’d dropped (non-lethally) when Danny first walked in to ruin Penguin’s night. He shoved Penguin in chair he iced over, because Danny’s petty and if he saw one more bruise on his kids at Penguin’s hands, Danny was gonna go full Dan the Murderer.

He at least allowed to room to warm up before laying into Penguin, though. He stayed standing. Hey, he had the height advantage to use. He could have kept Penguin kneeling, but it was probably god the best that the mob boss got some sense of pride back.

(Danny had no idea that sitting as someone loomed over you to lecture and threaten you was even worse than kneeling. At least with kneeling, you knew where you stood. But sitting? It leaves you horribly off kilter.)

“I told you to keep your people in line. Kids are off limits, Oswald.”

“I kept them in line!”

Never let it be said that Oswald Cobblepot had a normal functioning sense of self preservation.

“Really?” Danny jabbed his pointer finger lightly on top of Penguin’s trachea and allowed his fingernails to sharpen into Phantom’s sharper digits. Penguin tried to lean away. “Then why did they start a gun fight when there were kids visible on the street? Why did I see one of my kids get hit by one of your poor excuses of a bouncer?”

“I-”

“Don’t care much for your excuses, if I’m being honest. I let you mess around with the little projects you have, without even breathing a whisper of your secrets. Sionis would love to know how you double crossed him the last deal, yeah?”

“I- I’ll keep them in line!” Penguin stuttered.

“Well, I believe in second chances,” Danny bullshitted. Ancients, how was this even working? “So I suggest you make an example of the guy that smacked Hailey around before I make an example out of you, Oswald.”

“Fine! Fine!”

——

And with that, he got access to Penguin’s resources and men and more importantly, the corrupt police officers. He made Penguin “boot out” the pedophilic ones (in a very violent way) and kept the rest.

Then? Mr. Freeze froze over the god damn pipes and Danny had to intimidate and make a deal with the Rogue so he and his increasing roster of orphans had access to warm water.

In exchange for Danny’s restorative and, more importantly, unmelting ice, Mr. Freeze was now Danny’s… on-call enforcer?? When he’s not researching cures for his frozen in a pod wife, that is.

Danny was satisfied with that. He was! But then Black Mask happened, with the man trying to engage in a battle of wits with Danny over the control of Crime Alley which, at that point, was firmly Danny’s territory.

The thing is, Danny doesn’t play nice anymore. Why bother with pointless mind games when he could just…

——

“So, you’re The Phantom.”

“And you’re Sionis.”

Black Mask twitched at the name, gloved hands pulling out his guns. Danny sat on the counter, head touching mid cabinet, and sipped out of Sionis’ favorite mug.

Because Danny broke into Black Mask’s safe house and stole his quality coffee. The man’s eyes were wary.

“How did you get in here?”

Danny shrugged. “Walked.”

Danny held the coffee out of the way as Sionis unloaded a clip into his chest and lunged forward to slap a mask onto Danny’s face. After waiting a bit, as Black Mask’s smug triumph bled into shock, Danny laughed and, using a bit of his natural strength, tossed the guy off of him. He casually took the mask off of his face.

“Jeez, I’m trying to be nice, here.”

“So, you’re a Meta.”

Danny grinned. “Eh. And you’re a cult leader with a mask fetish.”

Danny tuned out the rant about the “true face of Gotham” or whatever, already bored, and sipped at Sionis’ coffee. The ass might be a psycho, but his coffee tastes were wonderful. Danny stood up, rinsed his mug, and turned back to Black Mask.

“You’re trafficking people. Kids.” He said, cutting through Sionis’ chatter. He was sly about it too, committing violence and torture in a way that would ensure obedience and fear. Danny probably would have never caught on, Black Mask’s schemes being so ingeniously created and executed, had he not kept a hawk’s eyes on the more vulnerable members of Crime Alley’s community. And the rest of Gotham’s vulnerable communities, of course.

“My, a wonderfully obvious conclusion. Now, Phantom, I have a proposition for you.”

Sionis seemed to have gotten his bearings back. Danny tilted his head at him, looking down.

“You can work for me,” Sionis said, before opening a laptop with video feed to one of his masked men or whatever holding a knife to one of Danny’s more fearless kids. Danny snarled.

“Or, refuse, and your kid will lose a finger for every instance of your defiance.”

“I told you not to touch the kids, Sionis. I don’t allow trafficking either.”

Black Mask chuckled. “Cut off a finger, Sadness.”

“Yes, bos- ARGHHHH!”

Danny watched as Mr. Freeze froze the goon’s arms before breaking them.

“I’ve got her, Phantom.”

Danny nodded at Freeze, keeping an eye on Sionis in case the fool bolts.

“So, what are your cards now, Sionis? You’ve sure pissed me off with nothing to show for it.”

And that was the last night anyone heard from the one that was supposed to be the King of Crime.

But Gotham knew the head mounted on a pike at one of Black Mask’s hastily abandoned bases was a warning, that The Phantom was watching.

——

Then he somehow got a gaggle of more orphans that were undead zombie “Talons?”

From there, he just obtained influence over the crime bosses of Gotham. Because his Talons kept bringing him heads and blackmail and his crime alley kids and Gotham orphans kept bringing him information for food and safety?

But like, Danny never wanted anything in exchange for the safety he provided. His core could give less of a shit whether he got anything in return. But he couldn’t convince his kids of that! They’re putting themselves in danger and ugh-!

Danny checked himself once more in the mirror. Ready, he stepped out into the night to wait for the Bats at his new favorite VIP spots.

On the way, he passed Ivy and Harley, who he waved to. Pamela worked under him because he controlled Gotham’s criminal underground (which also mean the official parts of the city considering the sheer amount of corruption) and influenced them into more plant friendly methods. His dominion over Undergrowth also helped immensely.

Harley? They’re friends. He beat up and crippled her abusive ex. She gave him therapy and stopped torturing people for fun.

Danny stepped into the back door of the Iceberg Lounge. No one stopped him. No one dared to.

He settled onto a velvet couch, nodding respectfully at the server that had immediately and nervously set down his mai tai. He glanced around for cameras and wire taps, before giving up and upping his ectoplasmic output to short any recording devices out.

He sipped his drink as he waited.

“Batman.”

“Phantom.”

“Oh, good. You didn’t bring Robin,” Danny said, watching Batman tense. “Kids shouldn’t be in places like these.”

Batman stayed silent.

“Come on, sit.” Danny gestured to the couch across from him.

“This isn’t a social call. I’ll stop whatever you’re scheming-” Batman growled.

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic. Is this where Nightwing gets it from?”

Batman snarled.

“Sit, sit.” Danny rolled his eyes.

Batman stayed stubbornly looming. Danny sighed, allowing his voice to slip into velvet danger.

“I told you to sit, Bruce Wayne.”

“You-”

“I won’t repeat myself again, Bruce. You’re testing my patience.”

Bruce sat, wary and hyper vigilant. Danny sighed, settling back in his chair.

“You’ve heard of Red Hood, yes? Don’t answer that, it was hypothetical. I know you’ve heard of him.” Danny waved a hand impatiently. “I don’t really care why he’s setting up shop in my Alley, but he’s upsetting the other crime lords. They’re asking me to interfere.”

“I don’t work for you.”

“No,” Danny acknowledged with a nod. “But I could make you, if you push it. Politeness would serve you much better right now, Bruce, seeing as I am doing you a… favor. And since I’m not shouting to the world who you are under the cowl.”

Danny gave Batman a pointed, patented, mom glare.

“… Apologies.”

“Now, you might be wondering what that favor is.” Danny watched Batman’s cowled face carefully. “I thought you should know that the Red Hood is your “Jason Todd.’”

Batman was still. And then Batman leapt at him, snarling, “How dare you-!”

Danny caught the vigilante by the throat and squeezed.

Batman’s flurry of punches- which, mildly ow, those gauntlets kind of hurt- quickly changed to clawing and maneuvers to get out of the choke hold. Danny held steady, cutting off the vigilante’s air supply until he began to go limp. He’s not Superman. Danny will bruise and kill, if he had to.

“Are you going to listen to me now?” Danny asked mildly, emulating both Black Mask’s drawl and Dan’s effortless psychosis.

Batman gave a weak nod. Danny plopped him unceremoniously back onto his couch. He sipped on his drink once more as he waited for Batman to cough some sweet air back into his lungs.

“I’m telling you to get your little birds in line before I have to go hunting, yeah? Keep your kids out of danger, Bruce, and I won’t have to step in.”

“He- how do you know..?” The growl isn’t there anymore, and Danny felt a smug sense of vindication of having smothered it out of the guy. Woah, no, that thought was too Dan and too little Danny. Danny handed him a cup of water, which Batman didn’t drink.

Danny rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Drink. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now. And as for how I know…”

Danny held up a beat up copy of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, filled with Jason’s writing. He tossed it to Batman, who caught it with blank eyes.

“Water,” Danny reminded him firmly, feeling like a mother hen. Batman gulped down his water, eyes flicking between the pages of Jason’s annotated book. Ancients, Danny couldn’t believe he annotated his book. A crime lord, like that? Well, it’s not like Danny could say anything.

Batman looked up at him, a silent demand- no, plea, because he’s not in a position to make demands- for an answer.

“Broke into his safe house. You should contact your fling, Talia. Seems like she dunked him into these “Lazarus pits” and told him you replaced him with the current Robin.”

Danny could see Batman’s emotional gears hard at work and honestly, he doesn’t have time for that.

“Now, we’re done here. You owe me one for the information. I’ll collect later.” Danny grabbed the Dark Knight, who stayed oddly unresisting (shock, maybe?) , and hauled him up.

“Tell Tim Drake to eat more. He looks too skinny.” With that, Danny dragged the Dark Knight to the window and punted him out. His kids were waiting on hot chocolate night and Danny had to go shopping for quality ingredients.

——

“YOU COULDN’T HAVE TOLD ME THE BIGGEST CRIME LORD OF YOUR CITY WAS THE FUCKING HIGH KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS?!”

“Hn.”

“BLOODY HELL, DON’T YOU GRUNT AT ME, YOU BROODY BASTARD!”

Constantine let out a scream. Shite, the king who held his soul contract was a crime lord. Great.

——

The reason intelligence and convoluted schemes and genius doesn’t work against Danny is because he’s got weird standards of what he’ll tolerate and the fact is that his normal dumbassery and mother hen tendencies cancels out and coherent thoughts or plans he might have had.

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lokischocolatefountain · 2 months

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Warning || Men Like Me

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.

Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew.

Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didn’t stoop down to.

Not that he didn’t have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasn’t something he could give her. There was a lot he couldn’t give her.

Being in Jackson should’ve civilized him. It did in many ways. He’d reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. ‘Yes, Ma’am’ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Church– sorry, the multifaith house of worship–to help renovate.

That was where his troubles began.

There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didn’t have much time, being a new dad and all.

He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood he’d need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours.

“Lemonade, Mister Miller?”

He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didn’t fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didn’t know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you weren’t a kid.

He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.

“Yes please, Ma’am. Thank you,” he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade.

His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair.

“I’m younger than you, you know? Don’t have to call me Ma’am.”

“Just being polite. Ma’am.” He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didn’t hurt the cause either.

It’d been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even one’s dreams.

“Well, guess I should call you Sir then,” you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.

His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasn’t the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how you’d taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole.

Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Made the lemonade yourself?” He asked, groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile.

“Depends. Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like this…I really needed it,” he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip.

“Well then yes, I did make it.”

He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was just…normal.

“It’s very sweet, Ma’am. Like you I assume,” he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.

You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth.

“Is that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?”

“They talk about my charm? I didn’t hear.”

“Oh yes, they do… Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.”

“Pants? Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping I’d charmed some pretty skirts off.”

“Lots of experience with that, Mister Miller?” you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and it’d rip right off.

“More ‘n what you got for sure,” he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. He’d killed for less.

“What do you know about how experienced I am?”

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.”

“Oh well. Nothing I can’t learn.”

He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldn’t be flirting… Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were… He didn’t know. Young.

“If you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?”

“I’m sure you can find someone else.”

“Oh. Not your type, am I?” you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance.

He didn’t have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldn’t be his type.

“There’s much more eligible men in town is what I’m saying,” he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you weren’t his type so he wouldn’t cross lines. It’d been a long time since he did the right thing.

“I’ll be the decider of that,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. “Have a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.”

Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldn’t even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.

Surely it was only because it’d been a long time since he got his dick wet. He’d never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.

It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadn’t felt guilt like this in so long.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

You weren’t even as old as his kid would be had she been alive.

He’d known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up.

Fucking disgusting.

He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uh…feminine features– pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world?

He didn’t know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man.

He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasn’t what you’d consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didn’t groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didn’t have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes.

Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing.

After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didn’t know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the town’s chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.

The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joel’s large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didn’t know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.

When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements.

Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?

It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.

You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers.

Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasn’t the lack of offers, per se. You’d gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety.

It wasn’t anything precious to you, virginity. But you’d waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didn’t translate to practical stuff. What if you couldn’t make them feel good? You’d have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.

Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didn’t know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time.

You didn’t know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didn’t hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did.

So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the baby’s little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didn’t even want to know how awkward you looked.

“‘m alright, Mister Miller.”

“Joel’s fine,” he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.

Oh fuck, his fucking arms!

“Oh I don’t know,” you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. “Wouldn’t want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.”

He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. “Ah. ‘cause I’m an old man,” he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave.

“You’re not that old…” you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.

Behave, Miller. You’re out with your nephew.

“That so?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“Mhmm. You don’t look a day over seventy.”

He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldn’t. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.

“Thanks. I’m actually eighty-two.”

You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. “How old are you actually?”

“Old. Fifty six.”

“Fifty-six isn’t that old…” you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.

“Checking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?”

“I’m not a doctor yet.”

“When do you become one then? Ain’t no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.”

“Howard?” you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didn’t know. Harvard didn’t mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.

“That was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.”

“Ah. Did you go there?” You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.

“Yeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.”

You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. “Guys like me didn’t get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didn’t even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.”

“You didn’t go to uh…construction college?” You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.

“No such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.”

“Like me.”

“Guess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But there’s no need to study any books in construction. ‘cept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which I’m not.”

“Maybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. It’s important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.”

“I ain’t writing books, sweetheart. Don’t think I even remember how to write much. I’ll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your place…I’m happy to help.” It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.

“There is something, actually. But I don’t have anything to trade for, so I’ll wait until I do,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.

“Nonsense. You patched me up just last week. You’ve done enough for the town’s health to not have to trade for anything ever again.”

“Well, no. That’s not how it should be… It’s people’s health. Can’t put a price on that.”

“Believe it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.” And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadn’t worked his ass off, there was no way he could’ve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wife’s parents helped with childcare. Would’ve been even more expensive without that.

“Damn. I don’t know how much that is, since…y’know we don’t have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldn’t cost anything just to be born.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head. “But listen. Anything you want fixed, I’ll help out. You can give me something later if you’re worried. I know Ellie’s always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.”

“Nothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.”

“We could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,” he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen.

“Alright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,” you said, giving in to his pressure.

“Now tell me. What d’ya need fixed?”

⌘⌘⌘

It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didn’t need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived.

You were no paragon of honesty, but you didn’t make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didn’t fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.

So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joel’s beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines you’d found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside.

You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.

She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didn’t have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this men’s entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.

You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didn’t cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts.

Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them ‘accidentally’. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines.

You wondered if Joel sought out men’s entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this?

You didn’t know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joel’s cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didn’t know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass.

He should leave.

It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadn’t yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when he’d rung your doorbell, you weren’t always away from home.

He should leave.

Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day.

But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one.

His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one who’d left the fucking door open.

Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about.

“Fuu– mmm Joel, pleeease.”

He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldn’t actually be doing this… There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.

Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.”

No, it couldn’t be anyone else.

Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldn’t stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasn’t a goddamn saint. Never was.

He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadn’t sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch.

“J-Joel?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs.

Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. “Want you, please,” you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me…” he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks.

“Want you…want you to be with me,” you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you.

“Tell me not to touch you,” he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you would’ve heeded. But not this one.

“Touch me!”

It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you.

“Touching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?”

You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.

“Dirty little thing…Thought you were a nice girl and all. Helpin’ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.”

You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Ma’am despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you would’ve done it much sooner.

He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to.

“You ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasing– taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time.

“Any man?”

“N-no,” you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure.

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me,” he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage.

He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.

A moan you didn’t recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest.

You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire.

“Fuuuck! Joel– I– I– hnnng–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way.

“Please… I don’t– what was that?”

You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore.

“Never touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?” He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man? You don’t know what you’re handing me on a silver platter. I ain’t like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, there’s no pretty things like you out there. I’m starved.”

“Take me, then,” you begged, using his own words from earlier. “Please. Whatever you– a-aaah!”

He ramped up the pressure on that spot– your clit– and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though he’d done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someone’s hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didn’t know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.

You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didn’t know. In his hand, you’d gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you.

Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winter’s Christmas tree.

You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward.

“Joel…”

“I know, I know…” he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like you’d seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didn’t protest as he carried you. Didn’t protest when he laid you out on your bed.

He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties.

He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldn’t take you anywhere. You didn’t screw your eyes shut. You didn’t pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you.

“Be a good girl from now.”

That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.

⌘

Part 2

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller age gap #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #all that i've inflicted on the world

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ab4eva · 2 months

Text

‘The Three of Us’

Fully co-authored with: @precious-little-scoundrel

Thanks to: My incomparable co-author & sweetheart Marina, for being willing to follow this rabbit hole with me and explore this little trio! And for the gorgeous mood board and vibes, I’m obsessed. And to Ashley, for being the best damn cheerleader we could ask for. ♥️

Warnings: All the sex, 18+ only

Word count: 8k

Sometimes in Hollywood, magic happens behind the scenes - in a dark corner of Bar Lubitsch or a little poolside bungalow at the Chateau Marmont. Things that are only whispered about in certain circles or sent to Deuxmoi with the stipulation of “anon please.” The blurry flash of a hand, littered with telltale rings, on her Instagram story. The paparazzi photos of a drunken night out before the three of them disappeared into the balmy Los Angeles evening. The fandom set ablaze by rumors as they combed over every sign, every possibility, every look that they took for god’s honest truth. A myth in the making, never confirmed, never denied.

When a ballsy journalist had the gumption to ask Callum about the rumors some months down the road, he just grinned his Cheshire smile and shook his head, the slightest blush hinting at the corners of his already ruddy cheeks.

“Nah, mate, can’t believe everyfing you read in Hollywood, can ya.” A statement, no trace of question in his ice blue eyes as he licked his cherry lips and stared the journalist down, daring them to dig deeper. His heart may have started pounding a little too hard but only he knew that. Nothing belied the steely gaze he turned on the journalist - not a flex in his jaw or a slight blink or the whisper of a breath. Needless to say, that journalist had no desire to go toe-to-toe with all six feet two inches of Chelsea’s finest lad. They let the subject drop, though the air had already been sucked out of the tiny interview room. Callum noted with suppressed glee the way the journalist shifted in their seat uncomfortably, trying to regain the upper hand.

Serves ya right, ya wanker, floated through Cal’s head and it took all his energy to focus his thoughts on the next question being asked of him. Now that the taboo subject had been brought up, he couldn’t keep his mind from drifting back towards that fateful night, like the breach in a ship’s hull the memories flooded in. The soft give of her flesh beneath his fingers as he dug them into her hips, needing her closer, closer. The salty taste of Austin’s skin on his tongue as he dragged it slowly across his friend’s collarbone, the streak of wetness left behind shimmering in the moonlight. The mingled sighs and shared breaths, overpowering and heady in that dark little bungalow. That was the night he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. It didn’t matter how many books he read or women he kissed or bloody hikes he took in Runyon Canyon, he was always going back to the night when everything changed.

“Didn’t I see you at the Luchino Visconti retrospective a couple nights ago? At the Academy?” The very definition of tall, dark and handsome has just walked in the room, smiling down at you and waiting expectantly for your answer. This is Callum Turner, the new client you’re working with for Masters of the Air press (alongside Austin Butler, your regular client and current boyfriend-adjacent…guy. It’s casual, you’re both keeping it casual. For now.).

“Oh! Were you there? Wasn’t it amazing?” you gush, a little flustered.

“It’s kind of rare to meet another Visconti fan. You must be one of the good ones.” He grins at you, all warmth and puppy dog eagerness. A kindred spirit, an instant connection. You would be very charmed by him, if you weren’t already attached to someone else. Who are you kidding, you’re charmed by him anyway. Talking with him comes easily, and the time flies by as you style his hair, moisturize his skin, add a bit of concealer here and there. He’s funny, sweet, intelligent. Austin has told you a bit about him, about his friend who helped him during one of the most confusing times of his life. But this - this is more than you were expecting. He’s more than you were expecting. And you’re pretty sure he’s flirting with you. When he asks you out for a drink later, you’re absolutely certain. It is with no small amount of regret that you turn him down.

The first time you noticed something akin to a spark between the man you’d casually been dating and his co-star was during press interviews for their new television series, Masters of the Air. As Austin and Callum’s groomer and makeup artist, you were allowed a seat at the back of the room, near the video monitors, ready to jump into action if one of Austin’s curls needed to be twisted back into place or if Callum’s nose got too shiny and needed a bit of powder. You glanced up from your phone to see the two of them leaned so close together their shoulders touched, just barely. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Callum’s mouth looked as if it might graze the shell of Austin’s ear, a smirk playing at the edges, as his dark, curly head bent conspiratorially towards his friend’s blonde one. Silly boys, you thought, smiling to yourself as you watched them. You’d seen that look on Austin’s face before…it was almost one of… adoration.

Without warning your mind flashed back to last night, Austin gazing up at you through your thighs, a look of devotion on his face, his sandy hair ruffled and his eyes slightly dazed. The very same look that he’s now turned on Callum… Nah… You laughed at yourself quietly and shook your head to clear your thoughts, silently scolding yourself. You’d been reading too many spicy novels recently and clearly your imagination was running wild. It made sense that he and Callum were close. Austin had been lost as a newborn calf without a mother after Elvis had wrapped and Masters of the Air had started filming. A brotherhood, that’s what Austin had called it. And Callum had been his right hand man. And that’s all, you were sure. Pretty sure.

Bar Lubitsch is dim and noisy, crowded with cast and crew of Masters for an impromptu celebration while so many of them are in town. Austin hasn’t been here in years, always remembered it being a good time. He wants to show you and Callum a good time, after all the hard work you three have been putting in for press the past couple of weeks. That was two hours and three drinks ago, and you watch them now from your perch at the bar and how much they feed each other’s souls, like displaced brothers, reunited after years apart. The evening is starting to shift and blur, so many drinks and people and noise and singing. You never knew Callum loved to sing so much, until he was singing karaoke at the top of his lungs and the whole bar was gathered around the little stage in the back room, jumping to the beat while he sang the most risqué lyrics right to Austin, like they were the only two people in the room:

Even when the cold comes crashing through

I'm putting all my bets on you

I hope they never understand us

I put my heart inside your palms

My home in your arms

Now we know nothing matters

Nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

You’re not sure you’ll ever be over Callum pinching Austin’s cheeks, channeling his inner Egan, and singing right at him with drunken gusto while Austin is too tipsy to remember not to bask in it and it’s probably the cutest, and hottest, thing you’ve ever seen. It’s only afterwards that you start to feel a tiny flicker of jealousy. There’s something between them, a connection that time and distance hasn’t untethered. Later, you drag Austin into one of the faded velvet booths, snuggling up to him as he pulls you into a one-armed embrace, kissing your temple with glassy eyes and a crooked smile. His heady mix of sweat and cologne mingle, along with the alcohol, and suddenly you’re lightheaded. Not to mention the fact that his soft lips have seemed to have move, with lightning speed, from your temple to your neck. You gently push him away, and he gives you a questioning look but you need to see his face when you ask him this.

“Hey…what’s going on with Callum? Because, it’s clearly something? And whatever it is, it’s ok, really it is…but…I do have eyes, Austin,” you blurt out, biting your lip. You see a dozen different emotions cross his features, like a movie playing out in real time - surprise, guilt, defensiveness, longing, acceptance. His face goes all red and he leans his head back, his tan throat open and inviting, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly. It takes everything in you not to kiss him right this second.

“It’s…complicated. Kind of,” he sighs as he stares up at the ceiling and you can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it and that’s answer enough for you. You don’t push him further as you quietly turn his mouth to yours and make him forget anything and everyone but you.

“Come on Aus, it’ll be just like old times,” Cal goads drunkenly, placing a proprietary hand on Austin’s belly, his words laden with meaning and a hint of pleading. It’s not like he’s missed Austin or anything…not like that. Not that he’d admit anyway, hell no. Couldn’t two dudes have a consensual thing and not be weird about it? It must be liquid courage that made him suggest it aloud. That and the fact Austin keeps looking at him like he hung the damn moon.

“Swear you’ll shut up? If I say yes, will you just…chill?” Austin’s eyes are trained on you and it takes everything in him to play it cool, keep a calm head. Cal’s hand is still on Austin’s stomach and he starts to pet him, just above the belt and it makes Austin lurch in sudden need. He licks his lips, they’re suddenly parched, and swallows hard. He hears Cal snicker softly in his ear.

“Now, see, as I recall, you wouldn’t stop asking me to keep sayin’ shit last time.” Callum’s voice floats above the music, scratchy from gin and karaoke, hot breath tickling the shell of Austin’s ear. His hand moves to squeeze Austin’s neck, and if Austin didn’t know any better he’d swear it was a subconscious power move, Callum trying to literally bend Austin to his will. There’s an all too familiar twitch down Austin’s pant leg, and oh god he wishes- he thought, he was so sure, he was past that phase of responding like one of Pavlov’s dogs to Callum’s adoration and teasing.

Maybe it’s just the notion, his suggestion. That’s what’s suddenly making Austin’s blood feel hot and his eyes hazy, it’s the idea of her…and him! But mostly her, just her, and sharing her and- None of that explains the way he wants to bend to that firm hand squeezing in drunken cajoling at the base of his neck, makes him want to knock noses and yank at the stupid collar of Callum’s sweater until there’s collarbones to see and a draft under the wool. This is winter in Los Angeles, heating inside is state of the art, there’s no reason for such coziness and it’s making the man sweat and all Austin can think of from the smell is memories of an English summer, worn out and floating in his own body, biting down on Callum’s upper arm, tangy, sweaty flesh to keep an awfully strange escapade quiet.

That does it. What is he even thinking? He must’ve drank more than he realized but then, oh god, there Cal goes, throwing his hands up in defeat, shrugging his shoulders like a kid caught trying to push his luck. The arm around his shoulder is suddenly gone, and he’d give anything to have it back again. He shakes his head - he really must’ve had too much to drink. It was making him melancholy and sobering him up fast. Funny how alcohol will do that to you.

“Scouts honor, Butler, I’ll-I’ll-I’ll,” he seems to search the ceiling in drunken concentration for the correct wording most likely to open the doors to the kingdom, “I’ll be- it’ll be: HER, YOU and a um, uh mannequin. How ‘bout that, mate? Good enough for ya? You’d probably like that, wouldn’t ya? Ya little freak!” He lands a playful right hook to Austin’s jaw, hard knuckles digging into soft cheeks.

The usually inflammatory epithet of ‘freak’, coming as it does from a man begging for a threesome with himself and his girl, is nothing short of rabidly complementary. Callum’s shit-eating, triumphant grin could light up the whole damn room in this moment. He knows he’s got Austin right where he wants him and starts to count down silently in his head - three…two…

Austin finds himself grinning, a warning, measured thing but a condoning of the sentiment all the same.

“One,” Cal says out loud, his arm going back around Austin’s shoulders, squeezing so hard Austin winces a little. It’s a reflective motion then, done almost without thinking, when Austin slaps Callum’s thigh, not realizing there’s a boner bent down that trouser leg. A wounded hiss leaves Callum’s lips as he caves in on himself a little bit and Austin freezes, his face turning crimson and he feels another twitch down his own trousers.

“Steady on mate,” Callum coughs, shaking a leg, trying to discreetly readjust. “And I thought I was the eager beaver here.” Austin wants to wipe that smirk right off Callum’s smug little face but the moment their eyes meet they can’t help but start to laugh. Giggles, really, which turn into loud guffaws that has the whole bar turning to see what the commotion is about.

Your head whips around at the sound you’ve grown to know well over the past few weeks, the loud and boisterous laughter of two friends who seem forget that anyone else exists when they’re together. You spot them, huddled close as they always seem to be, and shake your head. A grin tugs at your lips and threatens to spill out the feelings fluttering around in your chest, no your stomach, no…somewhere else, lower. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about the two of them…together. Sometimes you’re with them, sometimes you’re not, in these little fantasies of yours. You catch yourself biting your lip and staring at them a little too longingly. You wonder what they’re saying now, both of them look flustered and awkward, just slightly. You can actually feel the tension rolling off of them in waves from where you stand across the bar.

Austin chooses that moment to look up and catch your eye. There’s a fire in his gaze that wasn’t there earlier and what is that look on his face? You’ve never seen it before…shy and almost…guilty? He looks just like a little boy who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Your eyes question him across the dim bar, an unspoken tether ties you together wherever you are, and uncertainty about the deal he’s just struck with Callum comes creeping in. What has gotten into him? He’s just agreed to share you, with another man. And not just any man, one he has a rather interesting history with. The thought of Callum touching you, kissing you, fucking you…suddenly he’s stone cold sober and beginning to regret letting Cal sway his decision. Because there sure as hell won’t be any take backs, not with Callum. He’s like a dog with a bone once he gets what he wants.

“Dude no, there’s chemical flavoring in there, that shit’s bad for you and it’ll give her irritation!” Austin looks slightly perturbed, not for the first time this evening. He sways slightly under the florecent lights of the drugstore, the constant buzzing adding to the pounding in his head.

“What if it’s not intended to go on her? Hmm? Thought of that Butler?” Callum murmurs under his breath, his eyes focused solely on the lube he’s holding, a pink blush creeping up his neck to his ears. Has a blush under drugstore fluorescents ever looked so lovely? And Austin hasn’t stopped biting that lower lip since you walked into this place. It hasn’t stopped him from grinning, though, his excitement bubbling through in little ticks and tells, the nervous turning over of the vaseline jar in his large hands.

“You haven’t even bought me dinner Cal, just straight to the flavored lube,” Austin bemoans, faking offense. “’Sides, she’s already sweet enough, aren’t you baby? I’ve had my fair share of licks,” Austin’s shoulder bumps yours as he sends you a smoldering look, his eyes flickering down your body briefly before his cheeks turn a slight rosy color you can see blooming up from his chest through his open shirt collar.

“Austin!” you hiss, slapping his arm playfully and hiding your face in his neck, embarrassed.

“Leave it to you two twig Bettie’s and we’d be down to nothin’ but socks and coconut oil,” Cal snarks, not at all inaccurately.

“I don’t remember you minding coconut oil last time,” Austin says under his breath, clearly meant for Callum’s ears only, but you manage to catch it, and your heart starts to pound at the implied meaning.

“Mmm, and it was bitter so - mojito,” Callum says decidedly, leaving no room for argument. Austin smiles at you, lifting his shoulder in a shrug and rolling his eyes heavenward. You giggle nervously, wondering for the first time just what you’re getting yourself into.

“I saw that! Listen mate, feel free to shut me up at any time. This would do nicely, ya reckon?” Callum lifts a silk sleeping mask with one, long finger and swings it around seductively, waggling his eyebrows up and down comically. You laugh and the butterflies making a home in your ribcage start to settle down again.

The whimpers emanating from between your parted lips take you by surprise and you promptly shut your mouth, unexpectedly embarrassed to be mewling so wantonly. You bite your lip as it becomes harder and harder to hold them in with every slow thrust of Austin’s velvety cock filling you, his swollen tip hitting just the right spot, and every flick of Callum’s tongue as he laves at your tender little clit with vigor. You feel Austin tense slightly beneath you as Cal swirls his tongue down to your opening to lap at where you and Austin join, sloppy and wet. A soft moan floats past your left ear, Austin’s hot breath sending a shiver through you, and it seems to invigorate Callum as he doubles down on his efforts to have his tongue cover as much surface area as possible. He chuckles and it jolts through you as your back arches, your fingers finding his dark curls and yanking him closer, demanding something you aren’t even aware of. He understands what you need even if you don’t and as his lips close around your sensitive bud you can no longer keep quiet, keening softly. You practically buck off of Austin’s lap and his arm tightens around your waist to keep you in place. The harder Callum sucks, the more Austin starts to whine - you’ve gotten so tight around him he can hardly thrust.

“Oh fuck, what’re you doing? Cal…what…” you slur as you pull at his hair, trying to dislodge him from your clit. You feel him grin against your heat as he slowly slips two fingers in you, resting them alongside Austin’s length. You hiss at the stretch and Austin starts to pick up his pace again. Your head is too hazy with pleasure to register fully what is happening as Callum gently slides another finger in next to the first two. His mouth works your clit, sucking and pulling, harder then soft again.

“More…more more more,” you beg hoarsely. You feel as if you might fly away and the only thing anchoring you to earth are these two men and their hands and their mouths on your body. Callum cocks an eyebrow at you and his eyes shift to Austin. You feel him nod, barely, and then another burning stretch as Cal slips his pinkie in next to his other fingers. It drives you insane and you feel yourself clenching and coming, harder than you can ever remember. You stop breathing for a moment, your mind going numb with rapture as you come apart at the seams.

“Oh fuck,” Austin whispers, biting your shoulder, his hand absentmindedly palming your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple. “Come on baby, I know you’ve got more, give us another one. Cal, can’t thrust with you in there…give me some room, huh?”

Callum let’s go of your clit with a wet pop and gently slides his fingers out. His nose and chin are shiny with your juices, even his eyebrows look a little damp and he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Go on then, Butler, show us what you got.” He stands, knees popping as he does. From up here he can see your faces clearly, yours and Austin’s. He watches, rapt, as Austin nuzzles your neck, nipping at your earlobe as he speeds up his thrusts, toying with your nipples mercilessly. Your eyes flutter closed and your head drops back onto his shoulder. Callum shakes his head, dazed and pussy drunk - why was he on his knees so long?? He coulda been watching this the whole time? But he knows why- fresh, homegrown pussy. And he means to have his fill. He can’t take being on the sidelines, watching Austin move in and out of you at a punishing pace, having all the fun. One of Callum’s massive palms descends onto your clit, slapping and rubbing cruelly, back and forth, faster and faster. And then you’re gushing everywhere, all over Callum’s hand and Austin’s cock and the bed, soaking everything.

“Come on then girl, give us all you’ve got,” Cal encourages, his raspy voice driven to the point of hoarseness. He grabs his painfully hard, throbbing cock and roughly starts to slap your clit. You gasp, jerking in Austin’s arms as you fall apart again. And then Callum gets a thought, because his dick is doing most of the thinking just now, and it’s been sadly neglected thus far. He’s just had four fingers in you and now you’re literally flinging droplets with each swipe, it’s a goddamn swamp down there it’s so wet. He slows his slaps and starts to rub soft circles against your clit, stopping every once in a while to try your entrance gently, just to see. You moan breathlessly and his heart speeds up as he looks at Austin questioningly.

“I recognize that gleam in your eye, Turner…spit it out,” Austin says in a slightly strangled voice.

“Think you can take us both, angel? At the same time?” Callum directs his question to you, ignoring Austin.

You can’t take your poor abused clit getting ground on anymore, it’s just too intense, anything to give it a break. You nod your head so fast he thinks it might fly off. Your trembling little hand reaches down with disjointed begs of “Put it in baby, put it, please Cal, it’s burning.”

Your sloppy wet pussy hole visibly clenches with a tiny space of room left each time Austin digs in. Callum drunkenly wonders if they should have a medical professional on standby for this sorta shit, like it’s gotta be a crime to wedge two boys into a girl, especially when Butler’s packing like that. But your whine suggests you need it and he’d really like to not be left out. FOMO -that’s what he’ll blame when he’s driving the ambulance or else coming down from the craziest high he’s ever had with a pool of cum drying on his belly.

Austin goes still as a statue under you and drags your sweaty hair across to the other shoulder so he can really see your face and ask, “You sure? Baby, talk to me, you really wanna try?” His hand gently grips your chin, forcing you to focus on his eyes, his question.

“I’ll die if I don’t have you both,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper, but Austin still looks concerned and slightly perturbed. Is the girl he knows even in there? But you want something, you want this and he’ll be dammed if he doesn’t give you anything you want that’s within his power to give. And if there’s one thing he loves about you it’s your love of a challenge. He bites his cheek, trying not to blow his load over your sweet determination.

“Ok ok.” Austin takes a deep, steadying breath, kissing your wet temple and gives Callum a very familiar look of admonishment and also trust in his good intentions. “Careful, man, really careful,” he instructs as Callum nods his silent assent.

“No safe words, just if somebody says stop we stop, ok?” Austin’s starting to pant, as he can feel the poofy mushroom head of Cal’s cock brushing his sack at your entrance. “Anybody who says stop,” he clarifies, half thinking he might be the first to wimp out and do it.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Cal actually looks sober as fuck except for the sheen of sweat that always seems to come with his pints and somehow the eye contact he makes lights a fire in Austin’s belly.

“I might say no,” you squeak, “I won’t mean it though, just a heads up. I’ll say stop- if I need to stop.”

“No?” Cal laughs nervously. “That might make me feel a little…bad,” he admits, still rubbing maddening circles around where Austin’s been practically cockwarming you for ages.

“Stop getting all existential and give her what she wants, man,” Austin rebuts.

“It’ll make me feel bad if she says no,” Cal blurts, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“Then I’ll do it.” Austin’s voice is rough in your ear and your nipples harden into peaks as he gently pulls out of you and pats the bed. “Tell Cal to lay his big ass self down.”

You giggle as Callum dives onto the bed, bouncing for a moment until he settles, turning over onto his back, head propped on a lazy forearm. He pats his meaty thighs and you roll your eyes but can’t deny the flip flop your stomach does at the thought of those thighs and what a nice cradle they’ll make while you’re railed within an inch of you’re life. And then you’re hovering over him, Cal kneading your hip encouragingly while running an admiring hand up and down your spine, like you’re a skittish horse in need of calming. You hesitate, momentarily unsure, but Austin nods at you reassuringly from the foot of the bed and ever the gentleman, gives you his hands to hold as you sink slowly down on Callum. Though his gentlemanly hands are gripping yours tightly, his eyes are glued to your pussy taking every inch of uncut Brit cock that he’s maybe gagged on once.

“Earth to Butler!” comes from behind you because Austin’s zoned out a little and it’s been a hot minute and you’re somewhat situated now.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, uh, ok, ok…”

Cal snickers before crunching up behind you, his chest hot against your back as he wraps his arms around you. “You feel lovely, darlin’, wanna lay back wif’ me? Don’t mind him, he’s lost it. Always goes a bit soft in the head around a pretty pussy or my cock.”

It’s a lot from this position and laying back against Callum’s chest is intense. You feel like he’s fully in your belly and it stretches your womb over him. He feels different…his isn’t as wet as Austin’s little water fountain but it throbs more noticeably, sending little shocks of pleasure through you. Cal pets your belly soothingly and spreads your pussy lips for Austin to really get a look at. You whine and squirm, realizing again the want for more. Those fingers dabbling at your entrance, threatening to push inside you once more and that’s when Austin breaks, recalling that’s what he and his cock are here for.

“Yeah, ok, ok, present and accounted for. Move your hand,” he murmurs, swiping Cal’s hand away. He thumbs at you himself for a bit, just to be sure and to watch as Cal loses his cool facade for a second when you clench tightly around him.

“Still sure about this, baby?” He asks one more time as he’s pressing at the ring and the burn has you bracing. You feel Cal’s hand move from your waist to your thigh, behind your knee, cupping it and dragging it wide, spreading you apart before you’ve even said your piece. The vote of confidence does you good and you take a deep breath, nodding once, decisively.

“Then put me in, angel,” Austin tells you, fat cockhead already snagged in but there’s a little ripple in his hard cock from the resistance of the tight space. Steeling yourself, you reach down and wrap your fingers around him, tugging him closer and slowly feeding his thickness into you alongside Cal’s, who starts thrashing his head and moaning at the drag like he’s the one getting breached.

“Good girl, good girl, please more…know you can take more.” Cal’s begging for cock by proxy and it alters your brain somehow. Austin’s too, he puts his hips into the effort and soon he’s gotten past the muscles at your command and into the threshold where you can’t manage to push him out if you tried. It makes you panic a little, but Cal is softly shushing in your ear, a distracting thumb stroking behind your knee, other freckled hand mauling a tit and begging you to take more cock so he can get friction.

“She can take it, come on, Austin,” he vouches for you, a little self promotion as you can’t even form words right now. Somewhere about six inches in your vocabulary consists of yelped little “fuck’s”and whimpering “I cant’s”.

Austin caresses your cheek, commanding you to look at him, his blue eyes focused in on yours, “That’s it baby, just a little more. You’re doing so good for us… such a good girl.”

Callum grab’s Austin’s shoulder and brings him fully deeper, which is all well and good when Austin kisses your forehead and insists raggedly, “You are doing it, baby.”

When he finally pushes in that last little bit, you lose any control you thought you had, instantly coming from the stretch and threatening to push Austin out. But he presses nothing less than his full weight on you, keeping you in place and himself snug inside next to Callum. You gasp for air and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, clinging to him. Austin tries to remember to breathe and promptly forgets how when he makes eye contact with Callum for the first time since being balls deep.

“Are you -is that you…twitching?”

“Woulda thought you’d remember that,” Callum smirks. “Coulda sworn I recall you saying something about it jumping like a live wire in your hand?”

“Christ, well it feels different all…snuggled up next to mine,” Austin grits out, coloring slightly.

After a moment or two, when breath has been regained and a few laughs shared and some semblance of sanity restored in right spaces, Cal starts to pepper every inch of your neck and cheeks in kisses. Now that he’s not so desperate he’s become utterly grateful for you, for this. The kisses turn into sloppy, wet groans in your ear as Austin begins to move and Cal’s hand is gripping your jaw, his eyes locked on Austin, your legs thrown wide over his thighs, spread to the max and he’s a perfect recliner. He throws his other arm across your chest in a loving armbar, holding you still on top of him, “So Butler can get a rhythm, baby.”

Austin looms above you both, finding his pace, measured and steady. His beautiful face is flushed full of awe and there’s a heat in his gaze you’ve never seen before. He puts his hand on Callum’s shoulder for leverage, long fingers digging into freckled flesh and Cal promptly lays a little smooch on Austin’s forearm with a cheeky grin. Austin’s eyes shift and change, become a deeper blue and an expression you can’t read flits across his face as he jabs a particularly hard thrust into you. Callum starts to whimper and squirm when he realizes Austin’s thrusts are rubbing him too well, and it's not just you who’s getting their spot hit - that spot being his foreskin being drug back and forth in maddening little drags.

“Y’all like that? Feel good?” Austin growls lowly, rhythmic thrusts pushing you and Callum deeper into the fluffy white sheets, both of your whimpers combining until you can’t tell who they belong to. Austin groans and drives in harder, his white knuckles gripping Callum’s shoulder hard, while he reserves his tenderest touch for you, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your cheek.

“You’re…enjoying this…” you manage to moan between thrusts. His face splits into a grin as he pushes all the way in, pausing for a moment to kiss you hard, all tongues and teeth and desperation.

“Oh, fuck mate, that’s so good. Oh my god,” Callum babbles. “Right there, fuck, right there. You feel so good.”

“Which one, baby girl? Me or her?” Austin smirks.

For once, Callum has no witty response except the heavy panting in your ear. He squeezes your waist harder and his fingernails indent your hip and it gives you something else to focus on while you catch your breath, a tiny escape from the mind-blowing ecstasy you feel and the slight alarm bells ringing in your head. You can feel Callum somehow expanding and growing inside of you, even bigger than he was before. Austin’s eyes go wide and a look of panic crosses his face - his perfect pink mouth forms a perfect “o”.

“Oh shit, what…why is everything so fucking tight again…what is happening,” Austin groans breathlessly, his mouth set in a determined line, teeth ground together so hard you worry momentarily he might break a tooth. He tightens his grip on Callum’s shoulder and Cal’s massive hand encircles Austin’s delicate wrist, knuckles white as he holds on for dear life.

“Faster…faster,” Cal begs, again and again. “Sorry no, mate it’s, it’s fuckin’ happenin’…oh fuck.” His head cranes forward and you can feel his belly and hips flexing beneath you as he tenses over and over, letting out a hoarse sort of howl as he comes. His warmth fills you and it shakes something loose in your head, your own stomach starting to clench as you grab a handful of Austin’s golden hair, urging him on. Callum’s hands are all over you, petting you everywhere as he starts to come down.

“S’ok I came in ya? Yeah? Good, ‘cause I did,” he whispers hoarsely with a remorseful little laugh, back to babbling to you now that Austin’s got him there. He wipes the sweaty hair from your forehead, tucking a piece of it behind your ear and kisses your neck, whispering encouraging words, “That’s it, babe, give us another one.”

Cal’s bitten off little whimpers spur you on, as his soft cock is trapped in there too, getting pummeled. He’s trying to focus on you, with little pets and murmurs of encouragement but you feel his jaw clench as he grits his teeth, taking the pounding Austin is giving the both of you.

“Got me feelin’ like a proper woman, squealin’ n’ shit, Aus.”

You feel another orgasm build and shake through you, one of the many countless times you’ve fallen apart tonight, but this one stands out. It would bring you to your knees if you were unlucky enough to be standing at this moment. You’re sure it has something to do with knowing you’re satisfying two men at once, Callum having found his release and Austin being close to his. You can tell he’s on the verge by the little signs you’ve grown to recognize over the course of your relationship. The way his forehead creases in between his brows - you’ve kissed it away a dozen times in the heat of the moment. The way his pulse beats on the side of his neck, his vein there popping out and becoming more prominent. The short little huffs of breath he inhales, in quick succession - one, two, three, bam, bam, bam, like three shots straight to your heart. It’s your turn to take care of him, the last one standing after he made sure you and Cal got yours.

“Your turn, baby,” you whisper, pulling his forehead down to meet yours, thumbing at the hollows of his cheeks as he begins to tremble and his thrusts turn sloppy. He kisses you again, sucking on your tongue before moving to latch onto your neck. Cal wraps a hand around Austin’s throat, pushing his head back and squeezing just enough for his eyes to widen and his mouth to pop open. His blue eyes darken and you think he’s going to put his mouth on you again, but he bypasses you and goes straight for Callum’s collarbone, his perfect, white teeth sinking into Callum’s lovely English skin and biting down, hard. Cal yelps but doesn’t let go of Austin’s neck, and that’s when you feel it, your belly filled with warmth again as Austin pulses and twitches inside you, a stuttered moan muffled into the crook of Callum’s shoulder. He collapses on top of you and Callum, completely and utterly spent, the three of you breathing heavily and unable to move for a few moments. You squirm a tiny bit, trying to take a deep breath with one man plastered to your front and another to your back.

Austin gets the hint and lifts himself back up on shaky arms, slipping out of you with a squelch. You gasp one final time, at the sudden loss of him, and a cold emptiness is left where he once filled you to the brim, almost to breaking. The coldness is replaced quickly by a gushing warmth spilling out of you. You feel Callum suck in a breath, his broad chest expanding beneath you, his right arm still wrapped tightly around your chest.

“Christ, it’s running down my balls,” he wheezes out, taking another shuddering breath.

Austin braces himself against the headboard and slowly disentangles himself, flopping limply beside you on the bed. He looks at you and Cal still entwined, his eyes moving from both of your faces flushed with heat, down to Callum’s arm still tightly wrapped around you, one large, meaty hand gripping your breast, his middle finger absentmindedly pressing the sensitive bud of your nipple down. Austin sucks in breath after breath, and his eyes travel lower, to your legs still splayed wide over Callum’s sturdy thighs, his softening cock still nestled deep inside you, the spend of both men slowly dripping out of you. A sudden flash of possessiveness roars through him - for you, for Callum. For the sacred thing he has with both of you. His face goes numb and his ears start to ring. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

“What is it, Aus?” you whisper, stretching out a hand to him. He looks forlorn, alone on the other side of the bed, his vulnerable face a mix of emotions crashing together all at once, lost and unsure, the gravity of everything settling on his shoulders like a blanket.

“Come back to us.” Your fingertips barely reach to brush his bronzed chest, the little blonde hairs soft against your skin. “Please.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding and crawls back over, wrapping his arms around you both and collapsing on top of you again. You’re hilariously squished in the middle of a bear hug now, both men squeezing with all their might, a strange show of masculinity to mask true feelings.

“I can’t breathe….” you manage between giggles. Callum lets out a soft chuckle in your ear, his breath warm against your cheek as his arm shifts beneath you. He digs his fingers into Austin’s armpit and wiggles them around none too gently. Austin bucks against you and squeaks out an uncharacteristically high laugh, trying to squirm out of Cal’s grasp, but it’s too strong and Austin’s body feels like jelly just now.

“Hey! Hey hey, no fair…you know I hate… being… tickled…” Austin grunts out, trying desperately to writhe out of this strange embrace.

Bright, cheerful sunshine spills onto the hotel room floor and across the bed, where it has no right to be at this ungodly hour. It shines in unabashedly, through drapes you forgot to close properly in all of your horny desperation. A little sliver of verdant green Hollywood hills is the only signal from the outside world. In here, somewhere between sleeping and waking, in that hazy early morning dreamland, you register Austin tucked up close behind you, his knees pushing the backs of yours and his warm, heavy arm slung over your waist. This is how you wake up every morning and you scoot your bottom back, into the cradle of his hips, momentarily unaware of the pulverization of your insides. But scenes from last night play out like a clip reel inside your head almost as soon as you’re conscious. You squeeze your eyes tight, refusing to give the sun its due. You stretch your legs gingerly, wiggling your toes against Austin’s, and take stock of things. There’s the obvious ache between your legs - more of a throbbing fire, if the truth is to be told. Your nipples seem to remember the previous evening’s activities as well because they immediately harden and stand at attention. And you can’t feel them yet but you’re pretty sure you have a few bruises, too. Ah well, you think as you yawn lazily, that’s what makeup is for.

You blink one eye open (it’s so bright in here!) and the first thing you encounter is a massive arm right next to your nose, tiny, golden hairs glinting in the sunlight. The second thing you see is Cal, on his belly and sans sheets or clothes, his lush and muscular bottom swelling above the white duvet beneath him. His adorable face is pressed into the pillow next to yours, dark curls swirling across his forehead and day’s worth of stubble dots his jaw. He feels your eyes on him, he’s only been snoozing for a bit, waiting for you two to wake up. He cracks one bright, blue eye open and stares back at you a moment. He senses a rush of what he feels everytime he sees you but this time it’s magnified by endearment and gratitude. Then, his face lights up, still smushed into the pillow and a massive, squinty grin splits his face. Your heart gives a funny little leap inside your chest and you find that your fingers are caressing his cheek softly, of their own volition and you resist the urge to kiss the little freckle under his mouth. He grabs your hand and kisses your fingertips, holding them to his warm lips as he smiles. And suddenly, any worry about things being weird has evaporated, as has any possibility of him being a third wheel. He just belongs.

“Hey! Quit making goo-goo eyes at my girl.” Austin’s gravelly morning voice rumbles from behind you playfully, and quick as lightning the arm still draped around your waist reaches over and smacks Callum’s ass, hard. The slap echoes around the room and you see the pale flesh of his bottom bounce and reverberate with the force of it. Cal, and his red, pillow creased face, jolts forward, yelling and jerking in the sheets, which in turn rubs his raw cock. This causes a chain reaction of events which results in him immediately pulling a sore muscle and flopping back down on the bed, moaning and rubbing his reddening backside.

“No fair, bruv,” he groans into the pillow. “That was too fuckin’ close to my balls.”

Austin chuckles and swats your ass gently for good measure. Slowly, everyone starts to shift and stir. First there are whines about soreness and muscles. Then about how sticky it all is. Then about who’s gonna order room service - but more pressingly, who’s gonna walk to the mini bar and grab a water. And then there’s an argument about who’s voice is less hoarse to call for the food - this ends up being you, hilariously. Then there’s moaning arguments about who is intact enough to wobble to the door and tip the server. In between massive amounts of doting and fretting over you, obviously. The boys are ever attentive, fluffing your pillows and making sure you’re comfortable while they feed you omelets and sausage and pancakes until your energy is restored. Over breakfast in bed, the arguments continue about who’s more bruised up - there’s a nasty bite mark on Cal’s collarbone but the fingerprints around Austin’s neck are a fair rival. There’s a panicked and very male discussion about emergency rooms when you admit you can barely move. But you manage to convince them that a nice, hot soak in the tub would do you wonders right about now. So Austin goes to draw you a bath while Callum helps you out of bed, wrapping a protective arm around your waist, and guiding you to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later you’re starting to feel somewhat restored and a little more like yourself. The boys take turns showering, getting ready for the screening event later today. They go about it quietly though, almost reverently, leaving you to relax in peace. You turn the hot water on again, you’ve soaked so long it’s turning tepid but you’re not ready to relinquish this luxury. You ask Austin to bring you your makeup kit, eying the marks on both of them that need covering up. First Austin, then Callum, one after the other they kneel beside the tub in only their dress pants, chest and feet still bare. There are bruises and hickies and bite marks on clavicles and necks and wrists. Poor Callum, with his delicate, reactionary British skin has what looks like beard burn over half his chest and up the side of his throat. You turn sideways in the fancy clawfoot bathtub, gingerly dabbing concealer here and there, doing the best you can to cover up any evidence of last night's revels. Austin sits patiently, a towel underneath his knees to buffer the hard tile floor, and watches you with his kind, enigmatic ocean eyes. They’re distracting, those eyes, as they watch your face, every blink and every smile.

“What is it, Aus? Something on your mind?” you finally murmur, unable to take such naked contemplation any longer.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He smooths the hair back from your forehead, rubbing a silky piece between his fingers. “I’m so lucky.”

Callum slouches against the doorway and lets out a quiet hum. “I think you mean we’re lucky, mate. The three of us.”

Tagging some Austin & Callum lovers I know: @jelliedonut @crazymadpassionatelove @elvisabutler @slowsweetlove @stylespresleyhearted @steph-speaks @blurredcolour @pearlparty

#austin butler #callum turner #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner smut #Callum Turner fic #callum turner imagine #the three of us #marina does it again #written by ab4eva

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jgracie · 24 days

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SAY YES TO HEAVEN — PERCY + DAUGHTER OF ZEUS

masterlist | rules

❝ hiii can i ask for a percy and daughter of zeus hc but in a non stereotypical way? where reader is quite literally the princess of olympus and no one would even think zeus is her dad ❞ — anon

in which percy dates a daughter of zeus

pairing percy jackson x zeus!reader

warnings none

on the radio . . . say yes to heaven (lana del rey)

an they have phones in this sorry !

You met Percy through Jason, your brother dearest

When you’d arrived at camp in the winter, getting claimed as soon as you stepped foot into the border, he’d been there for you and explained everything you needed to know about life as a demigod

One of the first things he told you when you got claimed by Zeus is that you, “aren’t like his other kids.” You didn’t think much of it at first, but then others who got to know you started saying the same thing - you were much too kind to be Zeus’ kid

Despite this, he seemed to have an affinity for you, for he’d claimed you immediately and had a weapon ready in your cabin for you. Once others caught wind of this, they started dubbing you “princess” as you had a heart of gold and seemed to be Zeus’ favourite child

As the months went by, you heard stories about all the quests people had done, the most spoken of being a quest prophesied about in the great prophecy. Your brother, along with six other demigods, saved the world from Gaia

Jason told you all about the six other demigods, but only one of them intrigued you - Percy Jackson

See, Jason wasn’t the only person who’d speak about Percy. You’d always hear his name pop up in random conversations: the great Percy Jackson, two-time saviour of the world. When they talk about him like that, you can’t help but be interested

So when Jason told you that Percy would be arriving at camp soon and to let him in if he shows up at your cabin, you were a little excited

You didn’t meet Percy at Cabin 1, though

It was a particularly hot summer day and after hours of trying to cool yourself down with your wind powers - which had started giving you an awful headache - you decided to go to the beach

Grabbing a packet of biscuits, you ran to the shore, desperate to be rid of the heat around you

When you got there, the first thing you did was make your way to your dear pegasus, Lovely. A month into your being at camp, you found her at this very beach, which you thought was strange as all the others were at the stables. Still, she grew on you, and now you regularly visit her with biscuits

“Hello, Lovely,” you said, giving her a biscuit which she immediately chomped down as you petted her nose. You smiled, breathing in the salty air of the shore

Suddenly, someone interrupted your peace, “what’re you doing with Blackjack?” He asked, an accusatory tone laced in his voice

You turned around, confused, “her name is Lovely, she’s been my pegasus for a couple months now,” you explained, not wanting any conflict to arise

“No, his name is Blackjack. He’s a guy, and he’s been my pegasus for years!” The pegasus neighed and whinnied. You didn’t know what he was saying, but the guy did, as he smirked and gave you a look that clearly said, ‘I told you so’

You made your way over to the guy, “I’m sorry, I only arrived this winter. I haven’t seen you around before, and no one told me this was your pegasus.”

He smiled and you breathed a sigh of relief, glad to know he wasn't offended, “it’s fine, he really enjoys your company. I’m Percy Jackson.”

That was the day you fell in love. All you could think about was Percy, and getting to know him didn’t help either. To you, he felt like a breath of fresh air. He was easy-going, charming, and everything you could ever need in a man

Percy had fallen for you too. He never thought he’d ever crush on a daughter of Zeus, out of all people, but there he was. Everything he hated about your father was absent in you.

You made shapes out of clouds for the younger kids and used your voice to advocate for good

As June turned into July then August, the two of you spent more and more time together

Your crushes on each other remained, of course, but neither of you were willing to do anything about them due to something Jason had said on the day you met

After the Blackjack-Lovely incident, Percy decided to walk you back to your cabin, partially because that’s what his mother drilled into his head when he was 13, and partially because he desperately needed to know more about you

When you got to the front door, you decided to invite him in, not wanting to say goodbye so soon. He accepted, glad to not have to leave you already.

Jason was already inside and they shared a brotherly reunion before he noticed you were there too, “I see you’ve met my sister, Y/N,” he said, smiling at you

While Jason was usually pretty oblivious when it came to love, he noticed a spark had formed between the two of you. With a teasing smile on his face, he said, “well, you two better not start dating!”

You respected your brother’s wishes. He’d been so kind to you when you first came to camp, not dating his best friend was the least you could do

And although Percy was notorious for not following directions, he couldn’t help but obey Jason’s rule, as he didn’t want to create a wedge between you and him

He tried to stay friends with you for as long as he could, but the sea does not like to be restrained

One day, Percy woke up feeling unable to push down his feelings for you anymore. Even if you rejected him, he knew he had to tell you. So he went to the beach, where he knew you’d be

Percy took a deep breath and sent a quick prayer to Aphrodite, “Y/N, I have to tell you something.”

Turning, your lips pursed in confusion and concern at the seriousness of Percy’s voice. You left Blackjack and walked towards the boy, “is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry,” he began, “it’s just that I really like you, Y/N. No, actually, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. From the moment I saw you on this beach, I was a goner,” he sensed you were about to tell him you can’t date because you didn’t want to upset Jason, so he continued, “I know Jason said we couldn’t date but trust me, I’ll prove my worth to him. I’ll even prove my worth to Zeus if you ask me to, I’d do anything just to be yours. Please, can’t we try?”

You felt tears prick your eyes at his heartfelt confession. Who were you to deny him? “Okay,” you said, before throwing yourself onto him, lips interlocked

You promised Jason to train with him first thing in the morning. When he woke up and found that you weren’t in bed, he decided to look for you at the beach, knowing how much you loved Percy’s pegasus

He was, of course, right. You were at the beach. You also seemed to love Percy more than the pegasus. Jason smiled, happy to see his sister and his best friend finally confess to each other, “Y/N promised to train with me, but we can always do that later.”

Immediately, the two of you started explaining yourselves, apologising for not following Jason’s wishes, confusing him, “why would I be upset about this?” He asked

“You said we better not start dating, remember?” Percy replied

“Guys, I was joking. Couldn’t you tell? I was clearly teasing you.”

You vowed to teach Jason how to properly make a joke after that day

Percy couldn’t be happier. Every morning, he’d show up at your cabin just to walk you to breakfast

He also sits at the Zeus table now. He gets judging stares for it, but he doesn’t care

When people found out you and Percy were dating, he started receiving lots of threats from random campers detailing what they’d to to him if he even thought about hurting their princess

Zeus also left a letter on his bed. That was scary, but he was glad the God didn’t blast him all the way down to Tartarus

Your guys’ favourite place to hang out is on the roof of your cabin. As a child of Zeus, you enjoy being in places with high altitudes, and after Percy had caught you up there a couple times, you decided to teach him how to climb up

You always watch the sunsets and sunrises from up there together <3 they become your thing. Whenever you’re apart, you send each other pictures of the sky so you can still sort of watch the sun rise and set at the same time

Blackjack loves you more than Percy. If he's with Percy and glimpses you from afar, he gallops over to you and nuzzles the crook of your neck

Jason is lowkey sick of you. Especially when he enters HIS cabin to relax on HIS bed and finds you guys making out

Its okay though because you’re camp's prince and princess

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson headcannons #percy jackson x zeus reader #percy jackson x daughter of zeus #zeus pjo #children of zeus #daughter of zeus #cynwrites

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rynwritesstuff · 4 months

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Unknown

Billy The Kid x Reader

Warnings: Feisty!Reader, General outlaw stuff (guns, cursing, threats), Mentions of sex work/brothels, Smut (PIV sex, unprotected sex, rough sex), Hint of fluff, Imprisonment, Jailbreak

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: After discovering Billy Antrim one night, you persuade him to travel with you. A wild and interesting adventure ensues.

Author's Note: I've spent the past several weeks reading the most incredible Billy x Reader fics, and I wanted to try my hand at writing for him. I wanted to tag a few of my favorite Billy writers, because they have inspired me to give this a try. (Thank you @billysgun @atrwriting and @goosita you guys are incredible, I admire you so much, keep doing what you're doing <3)

“It ain’t the being alone. It ain’t the empty home, baby, you know I’m good on my own. You know, it’s more the being unknown. So much of the living, love, is the being unknown.” - Unknown / Nth, Hozier

When he hears it – the footsteps – Billy’s head snaps to the side. A million thoughts run through his head. Robbers, outlaws, all-around no good men . . . They could be anywhere. They could be everywhere. Slowly, carefully, he reaches for the gun at his hip. He barely has time to touch it before the sound of a gun cocking comes from behind him. He pauses.

“Don’t. Move,” comes your voice. Billy swallows harshly as he freezes. It’s dark aside from the campfire in front of him and the moon and stars sparkling in the sky. Billy keeps his breathing even and steady as footsteps come closer.

“I need money,” you say.

“You’ve got the wrong man, miss,” Billy says, unmoving. “I’ve got nothin’.”

“Food, then. Got any food?”

Billy nods towards the small pot beside the fire.

“There’s a bit left over there.”

You circle him, and when you do, he catches a glimpse of your face, slightly shielded by an old hat. Your hair is pulled back and you wear men’s clothing. Your too-big boots thud against the grass. Even like this, Billy can tell that you're beautiful, the kind of beautiful that would bring a God-fearing man to his knees.

You keep your gun pointed at him as you look down into the pot and then back up at BIlly.

“It’s not enough.”

“It’s what I’ve got.”

“You’re lying,” you say easily. “You’re in the middle of nowhere, there’s no way you came this far with so little food. You think I’m an idiot, boy?”

“No,” Billy shakes his head. “I mean it. That’s the last of my food.”

You chuckle dryly, then approach Billy.

“Keep your hands up,” you warn. You tug his gun from his holster, then step back towards the fire. Billy is now completely unarmed. He couldn’t shoot you even if he wanted to. You crouch down beside the pot. It’ll have to do, you decide, and reach in with your bare hand to scoop up the beans and bring them to your mouth. You sigh. They’re salty and warm and earthy, and they soothe the ache in your stomach.

Billy moves slightly, you see him out of the corner of your eye, and you bring your gun up again. He freezes.

“I was just shiftin’,” he tells you. Wordlessly, you look back down at the pot and continue to eat. Billy watches you curiously. Where are you coming from? Where are you going? And, perhaps most importantly, who are you on the run from?

“Billy the Kid,” you say finally, wiping your hand on the grass as you get to your feet. “Hm. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

“Do I know you?” Billy asks.

“No. But damn near everyone in the West knows you. Ya shouldn’t be surprised.” You slowly make your way over to his horse. You open his saddle bag as Billy turns to watch you. You pull out his shotgun, humming to yourself. You set it aside, and Billy’s heart begins to race.

“The ring,” he says quickly, making you pause, “please don’t take it. It was my ma’s.”

You halt. How strange it is, to hear William Antrim speak so desperately. You stare at him as you pull the small gold band from his bag. You hold it in your palm, and Billy watches you with a pained expression.

“Please. She’s gone, she’s dead. It’s all I got left of ‘er.”

You shake your head.

“I’m not heartless, Billy,” you say, and Billy nearly laughs. No, woman holding me at gunpoint, he thinks. Of course you’re not.

“I’ve lost people, too,” you tell him. You toss the ring to him, and he catches it, clutching it tightly. “I’ll advise you to keep it closer to you, though. People like me aren’t always so understanding.”

You go back to digging through his bag but don't find much; an apple, a pocket watch, a few shirts and a pair of pants. You huff, keeping only the apple, and shove everything back into the saddle bag, including the shotgun.

“You’re shit out of luck, Billy,” you say, stepping towards him as you bite into the apple. You wipe a bit of juice from the corner of your mouth. “No food, no water–”

“I have water.”

“Oh, well excuse me, then. I apologize,” you say sarcastically. Billy clenches his jaw. You sit down a good five feet away from Billy, gun still in-hand as you eat the apple.

“God, fuck,” you breathe. Billy glances at you. “Haven’t had fruit in a month.”

“Neither have I,” Billy says flatly.

“Mm. As I was sayin’ . . . You’re kinda fucked right now. Where’re you headed?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Liar,” you say. You’re confident while you have the gun in your hand, and although you know that Billy could scramble for his shotgun, you also know that you could blow his head off before he got there. If he tries something, anything, he’s a dead man. He must know it, too.

“The next town over,” Billy says finally. “I need somewhere to stay for a while.”

“It’s about fifteen miles East,” you say. You bite into the apple again. “You know where you’re going? How to get there?”

“I prefer to travel alone,” Billy says as he watches you. For a moment, a small, brief, fleeting moment, he wonders what you look like beneath the tattered button-up shirt. He’s only slept with a handful of women, and it’s been a long while since he’s touched himself, much less had someone else touch him. He swallows harshly.

You lap your tongue over the dripping apple to gather the juice, then speak.

“Right. Well, I need a man to come with me East. Nobody takes women seriously in that town, I was there a while back.”

“Surely you don’t want to risk being recognized, then,” Billy says. You chuckle.

“Unlike you, Antrim, I’m moving from town to town by choice. I've got nothing to hide.”

Well. That seems to answer Billy’s questions. He sighs, then looks away. Perhaps this is a good thing. Maybe a woman is what he needs. A fiery, feisty woman who will try to keep him in-line.

“What’s in it for me?” he asks.

You shrug.

“Money, probably. Food. A roof over your head.”

“Until I get caught.”

“I’ll try to keep you out of trouble if you promise to try, too.”

Billy looks over at you.

“I don’t even know your name.”

You smile softly, looking at him kindly for the first time all evening. You tell him your name, and when you do, he tests how it feels to say it. You nod.

“Right,” you say. “Ya got it.”

Billy hums.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” he says.

“No,” you say, tossing him back his gun. “I’d hope not. You wouldn’t be a very good outlaw if you trusted someone that easily.”

Billy slips his gun back into his holster, feeling better now that he has his firearm again. You take another bite of the apple.

“Let’s leave at dawn,” you tell him. Billy still isn’t completely convinced that this is a good idea, but he doesn’t want to argue. He doesn’t want to upset you or set you off.

“Fine,” he says. You nudge him.

“Where are those manners you had a bit ago?” you tease, tossing the apple core aside. “‘Miss’ and ‘ma’am’. Your mama raised you right.”

“Yes, ma’am, she did,” Billy says, offering you a small, teasing smile.

***

Dawn comes, as it always does. You wake before Billy, and take it upon yourself to tidy up his things from the night before. The pot is washed and the fire is out when Billy’s eyes open, and he glances around for a moment. He sees you, and you offer him a nod.

“Get up,” you tell him as you guide his horse over. “I’d like to get there as soon as possible.”

Billy groans softly as he sits up on the blanket that separates him from the grass.

“You don’t have a horse? You came all this way on foot?”

You sigh, leaning against Billy’s horse.

“She got stolen a few miles back,” you say. “I was surprised they didn’t get yours, too.”

“Mm. Sorry to hear that,” he says as he folds up the blanket and attaches it to his saddle bag. You shake your head.

“Not much that can be done about it now. Ya ready to go, Billy?”

He nods as he puts on his hat and approaches his horse. He holds his hand out to you and helps you up onto the saddle. He knows that you can get up yourself, but you shouldn’t have to do such a thing. Not when there’s a man around to help you.

Knowing that you won’t both fit on the saddle, Billy decides to walk. You watch him as he guides his horse. The muscles in his strong arms flex as he goes, and you find yourself staring at him more than the scenery around you. You know what this likely means, of course, but you don’t want to think about it.

You don’t want to complicate things.

Hours pass. The pair of you reach a town. Dust is kicked up as Billy’s horse trots through, and people bustle busily. You glance around. People stare at the two of you, and you wonder if it’s because they recognize Billy, or perhaps you from when you were here previously. You wipe sweat from your brow.

“There’s a brothel that way,” you say, pointing to the right. “Rooms are cheap there.”

“I thought you didn’t have much money,” Billy says, guiding his horse in the direction you pointed in.

“I don’t,” you say. “But I have enough for us to stay somewhere for a week or so.”

You hear Billy sigh, and you clench your jaw.

“You got a better idea?” you ask.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’. Don’t worry about it,” you say. Men are so finicky, you think. You arrive at the brothel just after noon, and you get off the horse. Billy goes to follow you, and you hold your hand up.

“Don’t. You’ll get swarmed by whores. Just stay here, let me do the talking.”

Billy’s brow furrows slightly.

“What if there’s trouble?” he asks. You tap the gun holstered at your hip.

“I can handle myself.”

Without another word, you head into the brothel. You locate the owner and speak to her about a room for you and your friend. Just as you remembered, the rooms are cheap, cheap enough for you to rent a room for longer than you thought you’d be able to. You pay the owner, then step back outside.

“Get our stuff,” you tell Billy. “I’ll take your horse to the stable.”

Wordlessly, Billy obeys, gathering the bags before you lead his horse around the building. He steps inside. Just as you predicted, a few whores approach him.

They gush at him, telling him how incredibly handsome he is, and how he must be tired, and how he looks like he needs a good blowjob. He politely turns them down, his cheeks warming slightly. One of the whores, a blonde woman, runs her hand over his chest. He tries not to stare at her bare breasts.

“You stayin’ awhile?” she asks. Billy nods. She hums. “Come n’ see me sometime, won’t ya?”

Billy offers her a kind smile.

“I’m a busy man, I’m afraid. Don’t have time for that.”

He hears footsteps behind him, and moments later, he’s being tugged towards the stairs of the brothel.

“Told ya they’d flock to you,” you say as you and Billy go up to the room. You unlock the door.

“They’re just doing their job,” he says as he steps into the room and sets the bags down. You sigh as you re-lock the door. You put your hands on your hips as you walk around the room, inspecting it. It’s not nice by any means, but it’s a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in, and that’s enough for now.

“I’ll take the floor,” he offers. You glance at him. “Y’know. When we sleep.”

You shake your head with a sigh as you take off your hat.

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I don’t particularly care if we share a bed,” you say. Billy doesn’t say anything. You glance at him. He’s staring at you. “What?”

Just as he had noticed last night, you’re beautiful. And if you look this nice like this, he can only imagine what you’d look like all dolled up, or even just freshly bathed. He wonders what it would be like to touch you, to feel you beneath him, to have your body canting up towards his.

He shakes his head slightly.

“Nothing. Just . . . Nothing.”

“If you want the floor, you can have it–”

“No, no, I don’t mind either,” he says. You sit down at the edge of the bed, then lie back on it with a drawn-out sigh.

“I’m gonna sleep good tonight,” you chuckle. Billy finds himself smiling softly.

“Is it comfortable?” he asks. You laugh again.

“Not at all, but it’s better than the ground.”

Billy approaches the bed and sits down beside you, leaving a gap between your bodies. He bounces a bit, and the bed frame squeaks. He hums as he stops.

“Well?” you ask, looking up at him.

“You’re right, it’s awful.”

You hum, rubbing your eyes.

“I know.” You sigh. “Why don’t you go downstairs and eat?”

“What’re you gonna do?” he asks.

“Take a bath,” you say. Billy nods. He knows he should bathe too, especially if he’s going to be sleeping beside you, but he’s so, so hungry . . .

“I’ll go after you, then,” he says, getting to his feet. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

“Hang on.”

Billy pauses, glancing back at you as you sit up. You gesture for him to come back towards the bed. He obliges. There is a foot or so of space between your bodies, and you look up at him with a twinkle in your eye. You know what you want to tell him, but you don’t know how to say it. You know what you want to do, but you don’t know how to get there.

“You’re the most handsome outlaw I’ve dealt with, y’know,” you say finally, voice soft. Billy is surprised but most certainly not disappointed. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“How many outlaws have you dealt with?” Billy asks.

“Quite a few.”

He hums.

“I suppose that means I should be thanking you, then," he says. You reach out and tug on his belt loops, pulling him closer. You put your hands on his hips and look up at him.

“Yes. You should.”

Billy leans down a bit.

“Thank you, then, miss,” he says quietly. You feel his breath against you, and you let out a soft sigh as heat blooms between your thighs. Hesitantly, you bring your hand up to touch his cheek. You feel the stubble near his chin and jaw as you look into his eyes.

“Can I–?”

“You don’t even havta ask,” Billy tells you softly. He leans forward and presses his lips against yours. You inhale sharply as you pull him closer. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, like a man dying. You touch him wherever you can: His cheeks, his jaw, the sides of his throat, his shoulders. He gets on top of you as you scoot back on the bed. You keep one of your hands on the back of his head, which ensures that his lips stay pressed against yours while the two of you move and adjust.

Billy tosses his hat to the side, and once he’s done that, you tug at his suspenders. You push them off of his shoulders, and you spread your legs a bit more to make room for him to comfortably fit between them. He kisses you again, hot and heavy, and you moan against his lips.

“Please,” you sigh. He nods as he unbuttons your shirt.

“I’ve got ya,” Billy reassures you. You kiss him as a sense of safety and security washes over you. He’s got you. He’s got you. You let him unbutton your shirt, and when your breasts are revealed, he leans down to kiss at them. You sigh at the feeling of his chapped lips on your smooth skin. You shrug the shirt all the way off so that your torso is bare, then run your fingers through his dark curls.

“Billy,” you sigh, eyes fluttering. He hums. You want to touch him, to feel his skin against yours. You grab his collar and pull him back up so you can kiss him. You fumble with his buttons, and when you get his shirt off, you yank off his undershirt, too. You grip his bare shoulders, your hands running down to his biceps.

“Fuck,” you breathe. He smiles softly.

“Like what ya see?” he asks. You nod.

“Sure do,” you tell him. When he stands back to undo his trousers, you quickly kick off your boots and stand up to push down your pants to leave you nude. You get on the bed once you’re naked, and when Billy looks back up at you, cock in-hand, he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, a sound of pleasure. You smile as you spread your legs, feeling a bit bashful but excited nonetheless.

Billy says your name, then. It’s a whisper, a sigh, a prayer. He gets back on top of you, and his dripping cock presses against you as he leans down to kiss you. You groan.

“I want you inside me,” you tell him, giving his hair a gentle tug. He nods, pressing his tip against your entrance. He looks up at you, silently asking for permission, and you smile softly.

“Billy, I love that you’re bein’ a gentleman, but I really need you to ruin me right now. We can be polite to each other later, okay?” you tell him. This makes him chuckle, a quiet, hearty sound, and he nods.

“Okay,” he says, pushing his tip in. “Understood.”

You hum, hands moving down to his biceps. You grip him tightly as he pushes in further.

“Oh, fuck, Billy . . .”

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head.

“No, no, just go slow at first. Ease it in, y’know?”

Billy nods.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes teasingly, pushing in further. Your wetness coats his cock easily, and he groans at the feeling of your wet heat engulfing him. “Jesus ffffuckin’ . . .”

Your grip on him tightens as he pushes his cock all the way inside of you. You moan softly as his tip presses against the sweet spot inside of you.

“Oh, god,” you hum. “Mm, Billy . . . Move . . .”

His hand fits into the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and he holds you there as he begins to roll his hips. He is slow at first, gentle, but his pace quickly picks up. The bed frame creaks and groans, and you moan loudly.

“How is it?" he asks breathily, wanting to hear your praise.

“F-Feels good,” you groan as he hits that sweet spot. Your legs and thighs tremble. Your breasts bounce. Your heart races. Billy’s body is firm and strong above you, and his hold on you tightens. You lean up to kiss him, moaning against his lips.

“So needy,” Billy says against your mouth. You moan. “Mm. S-So wet for me . . . Needed this bad, didn’t ya?”

You nod, clinging to him as if you’re the only thing keeping him here, as if he could disappear at any moment and leave you aching for more.

“Ohmygod, Billy . . . F-Faster, I need it faster . . .”

“Mm . . . Ask nicely . . .”

His words go straight to your core, and you clench around him just to hear him grunt. You reach up to tug at his hair, and he turns his head to suck at your jaw. You let him.

“Please,” you sigh. “P-Please, Billy . . . Make me f-feel good . . . Fuck me f-faster . . .”

Billy hums as he pulls away from your jaw.

“Atta girl,” he breathes. He’s pounding you, now, fucking you so hard that you begin to worry that the damn bed with break. People can probably hear you, but it’s a fucking brothel, you remind yourself, and you cry out loudly. Your face is hot as Billy’s hips slam against yours. He’s grunting and groaning, and his brows are furrowed in pleasure, and you’re positive that it’s the most wonderful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, fffffuck. Billy, B-Billy, Billy . . .”

“Mm, that’s it,” he groans lowly. “Let everyone know who it is that’s makin’ you feel good.”

Your grip on his hair tightens, and he bites and sucks at your throat as he chases his orgasm quickly. Clumsily and shakily, you reach down between your bodies to rub your clit. Your hips jerk and tears of pleasure fill your eyes as you begin to rub yourself hurriedly. You know Billy is close – his thrusts are getting sloppy – and you want to cum, too.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Billy admits. He reaches for your hand that isn’t on your clit, which surprises you. His fingers intertwine with yours, and he pins you down. He’s holding my hand. He’s about to cum, and he’s holding my hand, you think. Somehow, this small act feels more intimate than anything else the two of you have done in the past several minutes.

“Billy . . . ‘M gonna cum,” you breathe. He nods against you.

“Do it,” he says, encouraging you. “Please. Wanna feel it.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head back. Billy kisses and nibbles at your throat again, his thrusts get harder and faster, and you apply a bit more pressure to the circles you’re rubbing on your clit–

“Oh, fuck!” you cry out loudly. Your body tenses for a moment before you relax against the mattress, pleasure coursing through you. Heat moves over you like a blanket, warming you from head to toe. You’re shaking, trembling as Billy takes you through it.

Before you know it, he’s moaning in your ear and pulling his cock from your pussy. He jerks himself off for one second, two, three, and then he’s cumming on your stomach with a cry of your name. You watch him fall apart above you, and you never were a religious person, but this? This sight is enough to bring you to your knees. You’d worship him if it were an option. That glow, that body, that smile . . . It makes you want to weep.

Billy grunts, stroking himself until his orgasm is over, and he shakily lies down beside you with a huff. You stare up at the ceiling, still catching your breath as his arm touches yours. The reality of what the two of you have just done hits you. You just fucked Billy Antrim. And you liked it.

You look over at him. He’s already staring. You smile.

“Good?” he asks. You nod.

“So good.”

He hums and wipes a bit of sweat from your brow.

“I didn’t think a woman like you would wanna be taken like that,” he says gently. You have to give it to him, he really is a gentleman. Even after you held him at gunpoint, and told him to escort you here, and bossed him around, he's still treating you kindly. He’s still here, he isn’t getting up to leave. In fact, he’s reaching into his pocket and pulling out his handkerchief. He hands it over to you, then gestures to your cum-covered stomach. You smile softly, wipe it up, then set the handkerchief aside.

“I’ll wash this,” you tell him. He nods, humming. His cheeks are red. You like seeing him like this, all flustered and tired.

He sits up slowly, and you watch the muscles in his back ripple as he does. He stands up and tucks his cock back into his trousers before reaching for his undershirt. Your smile fades, and he notices.

“I’m just hungry,” he says. “You want somethin’ from downstairs?”

You lean up on your elbows.

“Something to drink, maybe,” you say. You smile. “And whatever food you can find. I’m in no position to be picky.”

He nods as he puts on his button-up and begins to do it up.

“I’ll do my best,” he says. Once he’s redressed, Billy glances back at you. “You gonna be okay?”

You nod, reaching for your shirt and draping it over your naked body as you lie back against the pillows.

“Mhm. You know I can handle myself.”

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to.”

You smile widely. Such a charmer.

“Go, before I undress you again,” you tell him again. He chuckles.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You hum, getting comfortable as Billy leaves. You hear the door open and close, and you sigh. Your eyes are heavy, and the mattress feels so soft and comforting compared to what you’ve been having, and it’s so quiet . . .

***

It’s dark when you wake. You stir, put off by the blackness. You’re still naked, and when you realize this, you haphazardly pull your button-up back on. You do it up as you move over, feeling the other side of the bed.

“Billy,” you say into the dark. There is no response. You roll your eyes. That damn bastard. You thought he was different. You thought he was a good man, a kind man. If he wanted more sex, he could have just woken you up, but no, he left you up here in the pitch black. He’s probably downstairs, drinking wine and fucking whores.

You clench your jaw as you fumble around. You start up the lamp on the bedside table, and grab your pants off the floor. You yank them on, along with your boots, then glance around.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter. “Couldn’t even bring me water.”

You grab the room key and your gun holster off of the bedside table, then yank open the door and start downstairs. The brothel is bustling now that it’s dark outside. Men and naked women are everywhere. You pull a lady aside as you buckle your holster around your hips.

“The guy I was with,” you say to her, “where’s he at?”

She shrugs, then pulls away. Anger boils inside of you. You push your way through and get to the bar. The woman behind it seems to recognize you.

“You got water?” you ask, frustrated by the entire situation. The woman nods, then silently pours you a glass. She hands it over. You down half of it, then set the glass on the bar and wipe your mouth.

“You’re the lady who came here with Billy Antrim,” she says finally. You look up. You’re positive that Billy wouldn’t give out his name, let alone his full name, in a place like this. You remain neutral and calm.

“Who?”

“The man,” the lady behind the bar says. “The one who went upstairs with you, that was Billy Antrim.”

You cock your head.

“What’re you getting at?”

She blinks at you.

“Don’t you know?” she asks.

Your brows furrow.

“Did something happen?”

She nearly laughs.

“Where have you been? Asleep?”

“Where is he?” you ask sharply. Your heart is beginning to race. You have a pit in your stomach. Deep down, you know something bad has happened. The woman watches you carefully.

“You care about him. It’s dangerous to care about people like that–”

“Tell me where the fuck he is!” you snap, right hand reaching down to rest at your holstered gun. The woman behind the bar clenches her jaw.

“Someone turned him in,” she says flatly. “He was taken away a few hours ago.”

Fuck. You should have been awake, you should have been with him. You could have vouched for him, told them that they had the wrong guy. You told him you’d keep him out of trouble, and now . . .

You storm away from the bar, hurrying upstairs to get yours’ and Billy’s things. You leave in a tizzy, adrenaline pumping through you as you fetch Billy’s horse from the stable. You secure everything to the saddle, pull yourself on, and take off towards the jail.

You tie Billy’s horse outside, then step inside. You glance around for a moment, and the jailkeep looks at you, seemingly irritated by your presence. You offer him a charming smile.

“Sir,” you say, nodding politely as he looks you up and down. “I–”

“Visiting hours are over,” he says flatly. You hum, glancing around. You spot Billy, and your eyes linger on him for a moment. He grips the bars of the cell, watching you intently. You’ve got a look in your eyes, he realizes. He hopes you aren’t going to do what he thinks you’re going to do. He doesn’t think he’s worth the trouble.

You look at the jailkeep again. You’re silent for a moment, and before he can tell you to get out, you’re reaching for your gun. You pull it on him and cock it. He stiffens.

“Unlock his cell,” you say firmly. The man doesn’t move, too surprised. “Now!”

Billy watches you with wide eyes. The jailkeep rises to his feet slowly, and you keep the cocked gun pointed at him as he steps over to Billy’s cell.

“Unlock it,” you tell him again. “Hurry up.”

His hands tremble as he finds the right key and unlocks Billy’s cell. Billy steps out quickly, then grabs the keys from the man and shoves him into the cell. He locks him in, and you take a small step back.

“Don’t yell,” you warn the jailkeep. “I’ll kill you, I swear to God, I’ll do it.”

While you threaten the man, Billy hurries over to the desk to find his gun. He grabs the jailkeep’s holster off the desk, too, while he’s at it.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, woman,” the man says. You hum.

“Damn right I am.” You glance at Billy. “Let’s go.”

Billy takes the keys with him, and the two of you leave the jail quickly.

“There’s another horse over there,” you tell Billy as he runs towards his horse. He nods.

“Go, I’ll keep watch,” he says. You fetch the horse, which you have to guess belonged to the jailkeep, and you hoist yourself up. You ride up beside Billy.

“C’mon, haul ass,” you say, riding past him. His horse gallops after yours, and the two of you ride into the darkness.

The severity of the situation is not lost on Billy. You’re in trouble, now. You broke the law to help him, to get him out, and you did it without hesitation. He would’ve been dead by morning if you hadn’t come to get him, and now you’re an outlaw, too. Guilt claws at him as the two of you leave town.

“You didn’t havta do that,” he says over the sound of hooves hitting the ground.

“I couldn’t leave you.”

Billy shakes his head. He doesn’t understand.

“You don’t even know me,” he says, almost frustrated. What a stupid thing you just did. What a thoughtless, dangerous act.

“I know you’re a good man,” you tell him. “And I know you don’t deserve to hang.”

Billy glances at you, his body bouncing as his horse runs up beside yours. Your eyes meet for just a moment before you look forward again.

“I hope you’re not thinkin’ of ditching me, Antrim,” you say. He can’t help but smile softly. He wouldn’t even dream of doing such a thing. He owes you his life.

“‘Course not,” he says. You hum.

“Then stop lookin’ at me like that and let’s focus on getting the fuck outta here.”

God, where have you been all his life? You’re everything he’s ever needed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

#rynwritesstuff #billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #tom blyth fanfiction #william bonney #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #billy the kid smut #billy the kid mgm #billy the kid x you #william bonney x reader #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid fic #billy the kid fluff #william bonney x you #william h bonney x you #william bonney smut

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goldsainz · 1 month

Text

❝ LOVE AT FIRST WAVE ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x surfer!reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . a surfing mishap leads to meeting the cutest guy you’ve ever seen.

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . probable inaccurate depictions of surfing, no use of y/n.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i said i would do this is… and i have… so better late than never… also this is my first written piece of 2024!!! pls tell me how this is, i’m a bit rusty so i need all the advice i can get (be nice cause my feelings will get hurt otherwise😔)

[ word count: 1,1k ]

The sea was the calmest place you knew.

Ever since you were a little kid you loved going and hearing the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the feeling of liberty swimming gave you, most of all you cherished the peace it brought you.

That's how your love for surfing was born, with it being the best excuse to spend time at sea, you found yourself indulging in it far too much. So mucus so, that you ended up signing up for a worldwide surfing competition.

That’s how you ended up in Australia, surfing in one of the most beautiful places you had ever been in. It was a magical place to be in and you found yourself very content with the place so far.

The beaches were not as crowded as you were used to, but even then, you didn't care much for how the beach was but more so the sea and its waves. You had spent almost all day, taking a few breaks when the sun was too strong, surfing and testing the waters.

You felt at peace. Or at least for a while.

You were riding a wave, when a scream alerted you. You were no stranger to people surfing and believing they could handle the power of the sea, just to be disappointed when they realised they could not manage. At the very rost, after a few minutes they resigned and took to tanning.

You swiftly stopped what you were doing and swam towards the noise, there you found two guys laughing whilst another gasped for air. You couldn't decipher if he was alright, but you supposed he was by the way his friends were reacting.

“Hi,” you interrupted their laughter, smiling at them when they turned around at the voice, “I heard a scream and wanted to check if everything was alright. ”

“Yeah, he’s alright,” one of the guys says with a smile “He’s just not very good at this.”

“Hey!” the guy who was coughing chastises, rubbing his hands over his face as he tries to dry it.

You look at him more attentively, and realise how attractive he is. Which comes as a surprise to you because a few minutes ago he seemed to have been trampled over by a wave.

“Yeah, a lot of people are surprised by how hard this is.” you comment, making small talk to stay around the cute guy a little longer.

The moment he hears your voice again, he looks at you and is mesmerised by what his eyes see. He had heard you the first time you spoke, but he was busy dealing with the salty water and coughing fits, so it was a bit hard to put a face on the voice. But even then, your voice was a melody to him, that for a split second he wondered if he was in the presence of a siren.

“He exaggerates, I just underestimated the wave by a little.” he says, suddenly feeling the need to defend whatever talent he has.

“It’s okay,” you respond with a laugh.

Your laugh.

Even though he has just heard it for the first time and wants to hear it forever. The theory of you being a siren doesn't seem so outlandish to Charles now.

“Thank you for trying to, uh… rescue me?” he says, scratching the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling at you.

“It was nothing, I know how rough the sea can be.”

“Still, I’d like to thank you somehow.”

By now his friends have dispersed a little, they stay close to him but not so much that they hear your conversation. Though they know well enough what is going on, muffling their giggles at his attempt at flirting. Even after he almost drowned, he doesn't lose his ways.

“Really, it’s nothing,” you wish you could smack yourself the moment you say those words. You have a cute guy insinuating taking you out as a ‘thank you’ and you’re so dense you brush off the invite.

“Well, I’m not leaving this beach until I can somehow repay you for your kindness.” he knows he’s being dramatic. You didn’t really do much, you just approached him and his friends to check if he was drowning and he’s acting like you saved his life or something. But he doesn’t know how to act. He just knows he can’t let you go.

“We could meet by the beach bar? They make a really good piña colada.” you suggest, adjusting yourself on your surfboard.

“Yes,” he responds quickly, maybe even far too quickly but he doesn’t care, “That would work.”

“Okay,” you answer, smiling yet again which in turn makes Charles smile.

“Okay, then.”

You stare at each other for a few seconds, though they feel like forever to him. He swears he could look at your for eternity and not get bored, there is so much to you and he doesn’t even know anything about you.

“What’s your name, by the way?” you ask shyly, aware of the strange situation you’ve found yourself in, “If you’re gonna take me out for drinks I should probably know your name.”

It is a breath of fresh air to have someone not know him. He is always happy to take pictures or sign autographs, but every once in a while he longs to not be recognised and lead a life away from the public eye.

And so when he goes to answer he has a huge smile on his face, the dimple on his cheek making an appearance. You find it incredibly endearing, and you resist the urge to kiss him on the cheek and see how it feels under your lips.

“It’s Charles, yours?” you respond with your name, and he finds it —just as everything else about you— so charming.

“Well, don’t drown until then, please.” you joke, and you watch him playfully roll his eyes.

“The wave came out of nowhere, so it wasn’t my fault.” he tries to justify himself, but he knows he’s just lying to save face.

“Sure it wasn’t,” you assure him, but he sees right through you, “I’ll see you then?”

“Yes,”

“Great, I’ll be waiting.”

“Me too.”

You linger a little longer, and then say your goodbyes, waving at his friends who make their way over him now that your conversion has finished.

Looking into the distance, you can tell you have a while more to be in the sea before the sun sets. You swim away from the charming guy you just met, butterflies flutter in your stomach and it is not because of the waves.

And though you love the sea, you can’t wait to get back at land and reconnect with the stranger you just met.

-ˋˏ *.· taglist . . . @lorarri @lpab @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @saintiastri @saintslewis @leoramage @toomuchdelusion @anthonykatebridgerton @enhacolor @gulabjamoon @toomuchdelusion @louvrepool @ravisinghs-wife @nouvellevqgue @hobiismyhopeu @starlightpierre @lecsainz @kkeelss @namgification @minkyungseokie @gothgirlez @f1version

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pedropascalluv · 5 months

Text

when you know, you know.- Finnick Odair

You and Finnick have always had a bond. It was undeniable. Many were jealous of the love you two shared as best friends, even if they always thought you two had something more going on you both denied it every time. Now that The Hunger Games are officially over, you and Finnick decided to stay around District 4 (Other than going to visit Peeta and Katniss) this was where you two grew up together, it was your home.

The front door closes and you know exactly who it is as the footsteps get closer to my room and there he is giving you the big smile you love so much “You reading?” he lays next to you the smell of the sea becomes stronger “yup, did you catch anything?” you breathe in the salty aroma “Yes ma'am I did, how about we cook and then you can catch me up on your book?” you drop the book now staring at him “That's just about all we do”

“We live a simple life”

“That we do” he gets up

“I’m gonna go take a quick shower”

“I’ll start preparing the food”

you decide to play music while you get started and because you did that you didn't hear Finnick coming up behind you, his hands moving to your waist "Can you not scare me when I have a knife in my hand, I will stab you." he laughs “you would never do such a thing” he grabs the knife in your hand placing it on the counter and bringing you close to his chest “Finn you know I’m a shit dancer don’t even try it” of course this doesn’t stop him, his hand resting on your lower back “come on just feel the song” you tried, you really did but feeling one hand moving the hair out of your face and the other was trailing up and down your back it was quite distracting

“I love you” you smile squeezing his hand “I love you too” his face is serious more serious than you've ever seen on him “No I love you in a way a best friend shouldn’t, you are my whole life and I’m sorry if this is a lot all the sudden but this war is finally over and I should’ve told you years ago but I- I didn’t want to lose you. I can’t keep acting like I’m not completely in love with you” You pause your head spinning as the grip on his hand has gotten even stronger.

“You're in love with me?”

“Yes” there was nothing but silence in the kitchen "I don’t know what I was-” he stops talking and starts to walk away but you grab his hand.

“You remember when we kissed right before I went into the games the second time?” he asks you nod the smile on your face not faltering “was that real, did you mean that or was it just a in the moment type thing? because I understand if it was” he was looking at the ground you cup his jaw his eyes meeting yours “It was real. I couldn’t even form a sentence sitting in that room with you. I didn't know how I was going to say goodbye to my best friend, the guy I've been in love with since I was a little kid. I knew you would go back into the games, and you might not be coming back. I couldn't lose you” his eyes glossy with tears threatening to escape “God I love you so much Finnick” Within a millisecond your lips were on his, the distant memory of when you first kissed him back when they announced that Finnick would go back in for the 3rd quarter quell the familiar feeling made you smile against his lips he pulled you away briefly his smile beaming back at you, he leans in your foreheads now touching

“I love you more.”

“You are so competitive.”

“I am. And I always win” you roll your eyes at him

“I take it back I don’t love you and your cocky ass.”

“No taking it back your stuck with me darling” he shrugs kissing your forehead "I love you more end of discussion" you say running to your room Finnick not far behind you go on the other side of your room he grabs you and throws you on the bed hitting you with a pillow you laugh covering your blushing face "I love you more" before you can say anything else he kisses you with more passion and hunger.

I guess when you know, you know.

-I might make more with Finnick but I will be posting something about Sejanus from tbosas so get ready-

#finnick odair #the hunger games #thg #finnick x reader #thg finnick #catching fire #mockingjay #finnick imagine #finnick x oc

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mrsnancywheeler · 3 months

Text

invisible string // finnick odair x reader

based of this request:

congrats on 700 followers!! you deserve it sm!!💜 ahh i’m so indecisive, i wanted to send a 🪻 but i can’t choose between these songs: invisible string, delicate, or slut! so whichever inspires you the most! ik it’ll be great whichever you choose!

masterlist

1.7k words

warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, arguments, past relationships which includes allusions to cheating and a wrist gets grabbed, soulmates, a slowburn for them but not for us, meant to be, very little dialogue, allusions to trafficking, mental health struggles, unedited, no use of y/n

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

When Finnick was younger he'd take every free moment he had to swim, usually with his friends, but now part of him craved to be alone with the waters. It let him drop the facade and be melancholy even if it was one of the few things that really brought him joy. So, he'd stopped inviting them to his favorite secluded beach area, that way he could finally be alone with his thoughts. He would be able to turn the thoughts in his brain of all of his regrets and all the secrets he'd have to die with.

The only company he ever had besides the waves and creatures below was the family that always set out their boat to fish and it had been that way for years. A persistent presence in the water that felt like part of the environment and it didn't bother him. No one had ever spoken to him except when he and his friends were younger, the adults would urge them to be careful when they passed by. Now though it was part of the peacefulness to hear a family muttering around in the back. A family that just so happened to contain you.

Before he'd grown up and became more withdrawn he'd always accompany his mom, adorning her signature royal blue skirt, to the markets, where he learned the only place she'd buy her lobsters from was your family. As a kid it gave him some sort of pride to know where the source came from, this little special area, and now he was just grateful that the routines stayed the same whenever he was able to just be at home. He'd arrive at the beach and your boat would be bobbing up and down in the distance, Finnick would fill his time swimming and lost in thought, then eventually your family would dock the boat, he'd get closer to the shore and you guys would leave with your catch, you'd always send him a smile that he'd send an acknowledging nod back to. The normalcy felt good to him which is why it put him off when everyone filed off the boat and you weren't there.

It shouldn't have unsettled him as much as it did, but this was the one part of his life that he felt like he had some expectations for, there was control. You could just not have felt well or had something come up, but it made his stomach knot regardless. So he tried to go about the rest of his evening, searching for something to make his brain feel like there was still control. His feet brought him to the bakery, maybe those familiar sea green stained, salty loaves of bread would make him nostalgic enough to take away the feeling. There was also the cup of hot, mint tea that it seemed like only they could make the way they did, just right.The bell rang and he went inside, overtaken by the comforting smell and warmth. When he'd gotten the loaves and turned back onto the dimly lit cobblestone streets his brain only felt normal again when he'd caught a glimpse of you.

There you were, stranding with your back to the wall of the shop as you argued with some guy in front of you. Wearing that same sea green the bread was. And it felt ridiculous to Finnick, but seeing you was part of his nightly routine and it made him feel calmer even if it hadn't been the same way. This time he smiled at you and you noticed him for a second, sending a nod back before you were drawn back into whatever the man was saying.

Besides that blip, for months life went on as normal. He'd go to swim, the boat would be on the water, the boat would dock, he'd swim to shore, you'd smile a goodbye, and life would go on. A few months in there was an addition to the family on the boat, a new guy, and a new face in his routine was just as difficult for him to adjust to. Not as much as the day your family passed by and you stayed at the dock with the man. He could hear you both arguing, the setting sun illuminating you in your royal blue, your hands moving around to illustrate whatever point you were making. Finnick didn't want to eavesdrop, he wanted to tear his eyes away, but he couldn't. Then he could no longer sit still when the man grabbed your wrist with a yell and you tried to pull it away.

“Hey!" Finnick heard himself shout as his feet pounded against the sand, both of you turned your heads towards him.

“Whoa, man, nothing to worry about here!" The man let go of your wrist and put his hands in the air as some kind of defense.

“Definitely didn't look like there was nothing to worry about." Finnick knew he was intimidating, you don't win the Hunger Games and come out without some form of fear attached to your name. The man scoffed as he took a step back, “You can go now.”

The man said what must have been your name,"You don't want me to go, do you?”

You rolled your eyes, "Of course I want you to go!” You were exasperated and with a huff of frustration the man walked off. There was a beat of silence, "Thank you.” You acknowledged, sitting down on the dock, taking off your sandals, so you could dip your feet into the waters. Finnick hummed a response and stood there behind you for a while in silence before you patted the area next to you, "If you want to sit down you can, I don't usually bite." You didn't look at him, eyes staring out at the horizon.

His routine was already so skewed that there was no possibility of fixing it now, so he did sit and the dock creaked as he moved. “Are you okay?"

“Yeah, I'll be fine." You said quickly.

Finnick didn't believe you, but was in no position to call you out on that. So you sat there in comforting silence as the moon began to shine and occasionally he'd look over at you through the corner of his eyes to see how radiant you looked. At some point you were suddenly sliding off the dock into the water, fully clothed as you did so. “What're you doing?"

Your head dipped under the water before you brought it back up, “Washing it off!" It made him feel understood for a second, that's what he always was trying so desperately to do.

Maybe if he was a smarter man, after that night he would've spoken to you more, made an effort. Instead he thought about things he could say, but stuck to what was normal. The only chance was the added smile to his nod when you passed by. So for months he continued on, fantasizing about things he could say to talk to you, but wouldn't and eventually there was another boyfriend on the boat. It shouldn't have hurt him, but it unexplainably did. Hurt with himself for not saying something to you, trying to be your friend. He'd gotten used to it though until the night where you were once again nowhere to be found when your family walked off the dock. Another knot in the depths of his stomach, like something as being twisted and tugged at. So he did what he had nearly a year before, the bakery, searching for something to rid the sensation. When he'd entered it though he instantly found you. Sitting in the corner, eyes red, sipping a cup of tea. He couldn't stop his feet from moving towards the booth. In silence he sat across from you

“What'd he do?" Finnick asked as softly as he could. You sniffed, wiping away a stray tear.

“Sometimes I just wonder why nothing clicks and the puzzle pieces never fit even if I do everything I can. It's like there's no one out there for me." Your voice was so quiet as you took another sip of your tea, without a clue on any it felt so natural to open up to this man who you'd known without knowing your whole life.

It was how he felt too, everyone looked at him like he was some sort of monetary gain that could be achieved, instead of wanting to really see him. “What'd he do?" Finnick reaffirmed and you looked at him for a second before getting a look in your eye that told him everything he needed to know before you were shaking your head, trying not to cry again. He didn't know what came over him, but he rose to sit on the side of the booth you were in and had his arms wrapped around you, letting you sob into him.

That's when he felt it, the surge of energy, the bliss when you touched and maybe you did too because you stopped to stare at him for a moment. Maybe he was delusional or maybe something felt like it had clicked deep inside of his soul. He smelled the mint from your tea, looked at your royal blue top, and something felt right, more right than anything had felt since the day he was reaped. Eventually you just laid your head on his chest and felt the energy surge back and forth between the two of you. “I'll walk you home, I know the area, I grew up two streets away." He eventually muttered, not wanting to move at all. Suddenly you shifted again, this time to stare in confusion.

“I grew up, I mean I still live, two streets away.”

Maybe it was really then that Finnick knew, and you knew, that something had tied you two together since the beginning. That even when he was just the boy on the beach and you on the boat, without a word spoken, the universe meant for this. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the string had pulled you from every man who would hurt you, and kept him living. It must have been worth it all to realize after all this time it had been you.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading, fluff isn't my strongest spot so I hope this makes up for all the pain I caused in the latest chapter of the river! as always if you enjoyed it likes, comments, reblogs, discussion is all very appreciated and my ask box plus requests are open. thank you again 💋

taglist: @wowzabowza69

#wanda 💋#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair smut #finnick odair imagine #finnick imagine #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick x reader #finnick fanfic #finnick odair x reader smut

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jpnriikicore · 7 months

Text

── older

paring theo raeken x fem!reader, word count 727, genre fluff and angst, music recommendation older isabel larosa authors note my favorite writing piece 🫶🏻🫶🏻 ( masterlist )

you knew that scott mccall would never like the idea of his little sister hanging around with theo. so, you snuck around together pretending that you hated one another around the pack, but only you two know that was far from the truth. the pack would never speak to you again if they knew that you was with somebody like theo raeken. you find a thrill of sneaking around beacon hills tiptoeing around the pack.

he wasn’t so sure about your relationship in the beginning afraid you was too young, but you promised him with the classic saying "I’m mature for my age, age is just a number." which was true. you had to mature faster than most. always been told that you was an old soul. you had to take on more burdens and responsibilities. you started working at the ice rink at fourteen to help with the bills. he’s eighteen and your not even old enough to have a drivers license yet.

when theo first came back into beacon hills he didn’t actually believe you would be so dumb and naive enough to fall for his manipulation. his original plan was to make you fall for him to gain trust among the pack. if the youngest had full trust with theo then everybody would follow.

of course he didn’t plan on becoming so immersed with the youngest of the pack. he is so enamored with you. that he couldn’t follow his plan. he couldn’t risk hurting you. he would set fire to the world if you asked. kill anybody who threatened you.

he didn’t mind keeping your relationship under wraps. of course he got jealous of any guy who spoke to you. it was unusual that the poor guy would get threatened or maybe even killed. the murders count went up in beacon hills after he arrived back in town by just simply eliminating any guy who spoke to you. they just mysteriously disappeared the next day.

after all the supernatural shit happened in this town you needed a break. you and theo plan to get out of town for the summer. being with theo makes you forget about the massive weight on your shoulders. soon, scott will leave for college and you will have to step up and take responsibility for the supernatural of this town. soon, everybody will leave. you would never get a normal adolescent experience.

and with the your father being back into town didn’t help either. you were certain you heard your mom weep the other night because of it. you couldn’t stand listen to her be sad. the same old harsh feeling you had for him as a kid rosed to the surface once again.

theo parked his truck outside of where you work, the ice rink. all of his attention on you, as he wiped your tears that were falling from your beautiful eyes. the heavy raindrops hitting the outside of his truck matching how you feel. his thumb comfort rubbing your cheekbone.

"everything will be fine," he whispered, his hand finding it’s way to cup your bare thigh. his thumb rubbing smoothing circles on your warm skin. his cold hand and rings send a shiver down your spine.

to be honest he wasn’t convinced himself that everything was going to be fine. he knew that the supernatural in town was taking a toll on you especially after the nogitsune possessed you. after scott "killed" the dark kitsune spirit he possessed you for quite some time. sometimes you believe that the kitsune still lives inside of you. you enjoy the misery that you cause others now. thoughts that you didn’t have before now rise to the surface of your mind.

you should have stopped stiles and scott from going out late at night to find a stupid dead body, but instead you gladly agreed on going. where everything changed. where scott changed. where stiles changed. where you changed.

he kissed your lips tasting your salty tears that has slipped off your face onto your bare thighs that your sundress has failed to cover. "everything will be fine, i promise."

his forehead gently touched yours. you smile and flutter your eyes closed at his touch. your hand reached up to hold onto his bigger hand.

everything will be fine as long as you have, theo raeken by your side.

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #theo raeken #theo raekan x reader #theo raekan imagine #theo raeken oneshot #theo raeken fluff #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x you #cody christian #cody christian imagines #cody christian imagine

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soc69 · 2 months

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Erasermic family general hcs:

- when shinsou has bad dreams or intrusive memories of his time in the system it’s hizashi he goes to, not shouta, because even though hizashi was only in the system a short while he understands what Hitoshi went through and how it feels to be abandoned and not know what to do with all the emotions that comes with it.

- eri used to be terrified on present mic. Not of Yamada hizashi, the sweet guy who signs as he talks and makes her chamomile tea when she can’t sleep, but of present mic who looks like a huge flightless bird and squaks weird slang all the time. The fear was fixed when she saw hizashi undergoing the transformation process one day.

- hizashi and shinsou have developed their own ‘sign slang’. As the ones who’ve used it most throughout their lives and with someone new to try it out with they started making their own signs for internet catch phrases and swear words and it pisses Aizawa off so much that he’s left out of the loop. This, in turn, only further encourages shinsou and hizashi to the point where half the time they’re not even making sense to each other but just gesturing randomly whenever shoutas around to piss him off.

- I’m pretty sure it’s canon that hizashi has, like, no nostrils (or maybe really really small ones) on account of his quirk as stoping airflow through your nose means you can make louder vocalisations, so, although everyone thinks mic would be the only one who can cook between him and Aizawa, the two of the basically function as two halves of the same idiot in the kitchen. Since your sense of smell makes up about 70% of your taste buds, despite hizashi enjoying cooking and be able to follow a recipe, without shouta there to taste test, hizashi’s cooking becomes absolutely repulsive and he has no idea. Shouta on the other hand, is perfectly capable of cooking but just refuses to learn because he thinks the system they have worked out now is perfectly functional.

- the first time hizashi is left to cook for Hitoshi alone during one of his early visits, he suffers such a culinary disaster since shouta wasn’t there to supervise. Mic makes sure to tell Hitoshi to tell him if it’s nice or not but the kid is far too polite for that and struggles through 2/3 of the meal that is somehow both sour and salty while also being so fucking spicy that Hitoshi thinks his ears are bleeding before Aizawa comes home and picks something off hizashis plate and immediately tells mic it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever made and throwing out the entire meal. Hitoshi is absolutely flabbergasted, tears streaming, nose running, throat retching, as yamada and Aizawa both ask him why the fuck he didn’t say something.

- mic likes pretty much every type of music and has sampled practically every genre ever made and since eri has never had the chance to develop her own taste, he takes her on the axact same journey of self discovery. Eri ends up very similar to mic in that she likes a lot of different things but her absolute favourite genre ends up being ‘kawaii metal’ which mic and Hitoshi both find hilarious and let her play it all the time which Aizawa (who only ever listens to brown noise) absolutely fucking hates.

- Aizawa can’t drive. Like at all. He never learnt, never even took any lessons, never had any interest in it. Mic is older than him by a few months and got his lisence super quick and after that Aizawa decided he would never need to learn because he would always have hizashi to chauffeur him around.

- mic doesn’t get angry much so everyone thinks shouta is the scary one but the more you get to know Aizawa the more of a softy he becomes. Mic, on the other hand, is fucking terrifying when you piss him off. Hitoshi and eri have only ever seen it once when some bitch from Hitoshi’s old home ran into them and got mouthy. He’s the quiet anger type that just just radiates insane unpresidented rage and Aizawa finds it incredibly sexy.

- eri is the kind of kid who collects bugs from the garden and spends hours watching them crawl over her hands in absolute amazement because she’s never seen so many of them before. As we all know, mic is terrified of bugs, but eri did not know this until she invited all her little creepy crawly friends into the house for move night. Cue them all cuddled up on the couch one day when mic feels something crawling over his legs. At first he thinks it’s Aizawa as his legs draped over his lap and tells him to cut it out and Aizawa is like ‘huh?’, looks down, and sees the fattest, juiciest cockroach ever on yamadas leg. Aizawa, who also doesn’t really like bugs all that much, is like “zashi, do not fucking move” and eri catches on, turns around and is like “oh! Patrick is here” which makes mic finally notice and release the most deafening scream ever and jumps five ft into the air which knocks a sleeping Hitoshi to the floor who wakes up face to face with a massive fucking spider and joins yamada in the screaming match while Aizawa is using his quirk on mic so none of them go deaf while climbing the furniture to avoid all the bugs and screaming for everyone to calm down in an uncharacteristically high voice while eri just sits on the floor amongst the chaos like “I just wanted you guys to meet my friends”. The house gets fumigated after that.

#eri mha #mha #my hero academia #mha headcanons #erasermic family #erasermic #eraserhead #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #shinsou hitoshi #bnha #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero acedamia #erasermic hcs #erasermic family hcs

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walkawaytall · 5 months

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No, but I continue to be salty about the fact that someone decided it was canon for Poe to not meet Leia until he was an adult.

I just feel like him being the kid of two people she and Han knew, him losing his mother so young…it’s like solid plot points, motivations, and drama were just laid out on a silver platter and everyone was like, “Nah, we’ll make this make less sense and also worse.”

Like, we never even got specific motivation from Ben about why he’s so bitter about Han in particular (okay, at least not that I remember. I admittedly haven’t seen any of the sequel trilogy in nearly four years, but what I recall was some one-off vague comment about Han not being around that sounded about like the reason every kid in every ‘90s movie with a Busy Business Dad would give for why their father wasn’t at a soccer game or whatever).

You know what would be more interesting? Han and Leia — both orphans themselves, and Leia twice over — doing their best to help Kes out after Shara dies, taking Poe on a weekend every-so-often, whatever, so he and Ben are basically cousins. And, like, Poe’s interested in ships, right, because his mother was a pilot and that’s what he wants to be, and Han’s more than happy to talk shop with the kid for as long as his attention span lasts. And when Ben’s, like, five he could not possibly care less about this, but as he gets older, he misinterprets common interest as abject favoritism of Poe or even a sort of rejection of himself because, while Han absolutely tries, he’s never going to fully understand the Jedi stuff and talking about flying is simple for him.

And Leia and Poe bond over old Rebellion stuff. He wants to hear about Shara and wants more stories to ask his dad about once he goes home and Ben’s kind of over it, so it’s just another area where he feels like his parents are better-bonded with someone who isn’t him. It’s not negligence or actual favoritism or rejection; it’s a complicated situation where Han and Leia are trying to do right by both boys and misunderstandings and hurt feelings ensue because kids don’t always see the big picture or whatever. And also I’m sure Han and Leia make mistakes, but they also want to be there for an old friend and this child who they have known his entire life who lost his mother — their friend and colleague — way, way too young.

And it would continue to add to the complex feelings Ben has about his mother when she starts another rebellion, which is already complicated for him, but then he finds out that Dameron kid, who’s basically family but also who he has a lot of bitterness toward, is not only involved in this rebellion; he’s kind of Leia’s go-to guy. So, Ben’s become the monster his mother always feared resided in her own blood while Poe’s a shiny, good-guy pilot just like Shara…just like Han.

Wouldn’t that have been more interesting than “My dad was never there for vague reasons, Rey, plz feel bad for me”?

Anyway, I said it when I talked about my Ewok makeover montage idea and I’ll say it again: I should be in charge of more things.

#Star Wars #sequel trilogy #leia organa #han solo #poe dameron #kes dameron #shara bey #kylo ren #ben solo

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cyberkitty1 · 9 months

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E!42 miles x thick/chubby black reader Part 2

Part 1

warnings: lowercase intended, mean family members

she walkes up eyeing miles like he was a prey and she was hunting him down, not before looking st you with utter disgust. “ not sure how ou could pull someone like this” she days looking at miles smiling “ and eho are you?” she says sweetly, way to sweetly.

“ miles” he says plainly “ no need to be salty! you can come with me so your not as sad, how bout it?” something inside you snapped, why was she always picking on you? its not like she looked any better, she looked like wendy williams post rehab.

“ no he wouldn’t sorry” she looks over at you “ i dont think i was talking to you?” “yea just like he dosent want to talk to you, if you dont mind, or even if you do could you leave?” she scoffs “ and who do you think your talking to miss piggy? why dont YOU leave? i thought you’d be gone by now!” she laughs as if you havnt heard it before.

“ oh you want me to leave? sure ill leave just like your 4 baby daddies that dont even pay child support might i add” the whole party was looking at you guys now, music turned down

“ you know its crazy how ive sat here all these years getting bullied by you but atleast i can keep a man! girl you get pregnant every year! arnt you on baby number 6? that baby bump is more visible than that volcano on your face” miles looked at you in utter shock “ how old are you again? 25?! have you ever heard of condoms or birth control?” at this rate she might as well left because everyone was snikering and laughing “ and dont even get me started on your lifted lace and chunky make up, i may not be skinny but atleast i know my shade, you walk in here lookin like that one james charles meme DONT play with me today”

everyone goes silent she just looks at you dumbfounded “if you have anything else to say, say it now or forever hold your peace” you say one last time before she scoffs rolls her eyes and walks off.

everyone kind of goes back to normal and miles just looks at you “ ive never seen you like this before” he says looking you in your eyes “ yea, sorry i just got fed up-“ “ hey you don’t have to apologize it was actually kinda hot” you laugh a little “ thank you miles” before you can bask in the radiant feeling your aunt, your cousins mom walks up to you

“ now who do you think you are talking to my baby like that?” you look at her dumb founded “ are you kidding me? you guys only talk down on me and now you have the utter audacity to walk up to me and ask why i’m treating your daughter how her and you have been treating me for YEARS?” you pause

“ you know there is absolutely nothing stopping me form dragging you too, you’re built like your constantly taking a big breath, you got the worst camel toes i have ever seen in my ENTIRE life and now i know where your daughter gets the “have a ton of baby daddies to the point where you dont know who the father is “attitude. that reminds me arnt you pregnant with your 10th child? and your 9th baby daddy? thats a world record somehow. you should call Nick Canon up here, y’all would make great friends.”

“ don’t ever talk down on me again or there will be consequences” you say finally before grabbing miles hand and leaving the party. miles stands next to his car looking at you absolutely dumbfounded “ what?” you ask confused “ you just dragged yo auntie in front of everyone! what do you mean what? ive never seen you stand up for yourself like this i’m proud of you” he says giving you a kiss on the cheek.

i just imagine you doing that like ugly giggle he loves lmao

🏷️ @soseoulol @shoyofroyoyoyo @pandoragalora @miles-42-morales @heavisdelulu @lilcassipuff @levanneisdumb @thebaddest @sussybaka10 @itsznanabanana @malllywally @missyysyx @c4nth3lp1t @sgmianne @miles4hour @ulovejayy @onginlove @buckleyverse @lexixiii @swaqlover @yoursidehismain @florencepughswife030196 @lethycia @edgyficuselastica @druiggf @onsimpshii @lovely-horror-show @vivsamortentia @leighs-gallery @remuslupinsno1slut @steve-harringtons-bitch @shurisbbymama @bunnybabylovesstuff @karmascute @c4rine @janaeby @mookiebutt @paraccosm @zkristuz @reflectionsinrealtime @mindymeeksrules @nagi3seastorm @popeheywardssecretgf @be3_Fl0w3er @piopio @hoodypunpurri @hiyoo-o @enchanting-violet @inluvwithneteyam

if y’all think this is cringe lmk so i can remake it lmao

#miles morales #atsv x reader #earth 42 miles #miles morales x reader #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #fluff #across the spiderverse #cyberkitty1 #bad bitty #thick reader #chubby reader #black reader #memes lmao #dragged #lifted lace #miles g morales

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neocoffeecafe · 4 months

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my present (m) | home | writing masterlist | fic rec library

includes/warnings: fem!reader, bondage (reader), dom!yangyang, blowjob, cum eating, eating out, unprotected sex, plus sized friendly!reader, overstimulation, rough sex

wc: 1.5k

a/n: merry xmas u guys ho ho ho bitches (me from the future: i don’t really like this one much)

the taste of your core and the unpleasant textures of the lace linger in your mouth. your on your knees, naked body and all.

he towered above you with his leg perched on another, his pajamas hilariously rivaling the dark and lustful eyes that looked down upon you. he really wasn’t kidding when he said that he only wanted you for christmas. so you lunged into his arms in the morning, claiming you were all his for the day (not like you were already his every other day). he took it and sprinted with it.

he dressed you up just as he wanted it. red fluffed cuffs on your wrists, christmas bows stuck on to your hard and ready nipples, your hand-picked lace lingerie bottoms stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet, the red ribbon that tangled you up, and most importantly, the stupid santa hat he plopped on your head earlier, that you were both laughing about just earlier before the boner grew, hidden in his fluffed up pants.

but that childish glitter in his eyes was long gone. dark eyes trained on your body, fixed on the mess between your legs and occasionally running along your body to admire how pretty you were.

you watch him free his cock from his pants, watching the hard length spring up from his crotch. his hand pump himself ever so slowly. his free hand signaled for you to come to him. “c’mere.” he added.

it was like signaling a frenzy in you, because your tied up legs shuffled at the fastest speed you could, hungry for what he had in his lap. he shuffled forward a bit, his tip now just inches from your face, teasing you.

he reaches forward to free your mouth of the taste of you, stuffing your panties in his pajama pocket for later. you can taste the clean air, thick of lust and longing.

you stretch your neck forward to extend your tongue and kitty lick his tip. he must be sensitive because his head is thrown back already, softest moans escaping from his lips, sucking in his teeth. you apply more pressure, your tongue now swirling around his tip. his hand falls from holding his cock in relaxation now, completely immersed in the pleasure you gave him.

you never really gave him head often. despite his immaturity and childish antics, he was actually really thoughtful in bed or when you’d both have sex. he wanted you to feel good, you to feel pleasure. it would be the other way around today.

you’re slow, and careful, as you take in inch after inch. you ignore your own whimpers if it means you can take him all.

“come on baby.” he groans, lifting his head that was tilted back to now look down at you, his previously slumped hand reaching to cup your face. “you can take all of me. i know you can.”

his words were quite encouraging but demanding. he wanted to be balls deep inside your mouth. he wanted his cock to slide down as far down your throat he could. he’d do anything to see his outline in your throat as he fucked your mouth.

your eyes began to water, letting salty tears roll down your cheeks and collide with your spit that you drooled that leaked on the bottom, dropping to your breasts, and eventually sliding down further and disappearing into your cunt. watching liquid disappear into your core was so hot to him.

“fuck baby. i’m gonna need you to go down a bit further.” he says, hand from the side of your face wrapping around to your hair. “breathe.” he eases, before pulling your head further down on him. your eyes widen and more and more of your tears roll down your cheeks and adding to the bubbling sensation between your legs. “you look s’pretty, yeah?” he groans, twitching in your mouth with a rapid sensation. he felt like he was gonna blow at any moment now.

and he blew. you winced as his seed shot down your throat, forcing you to swallow. he leaned forward and gripped your chin.

“no pulling away until every drop is swallowed.” he snarls in your ear, sex driven and crazed. so you do. you close your eyes and force down his cream, letting the wild taste linger in your mouth. he pulls himself out of you, letting you pant. you want it back inside, you almost felt incomplete… so you lunged for it again.

his arm blocked you.

“no. i’ve had my fun. its your turn now.” he instructs you to turn around with a twirl of his finger. so you do, turning your back to him. you feel the tight sensation of the ribbon leave your ankles as he frees you from the red velvet shackles, letting you move your legs freely. “get up.” you obey, standing up with wobbly legs, a weird feeling after being confined for so so long. you turn around and watch as he settles himself on the couch, a head propped up on a pillow. “come on.”

you join him on the couch, settling yourself by his crotch, figuring that’s what he wanted. so you grind yourself on his lap.

“not there.” he says, his fingers hooked in the loops of the ribbon and pulling you to his face, where your soaked cunt hovered above his face. “what a meal.” he mumbles, before lifting his head ever so slightly and extending his tongue.

you yelp and whimper, your arms gripping the arm rest and your shaky legs the only form of balance with the overstimulation. his tongue swirled around your sensitive bud that always sent shudders down your spine. you can’t close your legs with his grip on your thick thighs, the boy under you in a fixed state of bliss as he pleasures your core.

“m’gonna cum. gonna cum.” your grip tightens on the headrest, legs so close to caving in and letting you fall. you freeze and you release your load with a scream, letting the hungry boy lap it up happily.

“we’re gonna keep going. till you can’t take it anymore and you’re begging for my cock.” you glance down and he had this grin on his face. he moves a hand to add his fingers to the stimulation, rubbing aggressive circles. “i could fucking do this all day.” he says, before licking stripes down your core.

“fuck.” you whimper, your body leaning against the armrest now. “need you inside me.” you plead, begging for anything just for him to slam you onto the couch, and fuck your pussy raw.

“not until you cum for me.” his tongue leaves your core, leaving his fingers to pump painfully slow in and out.

you whimper in response, hip grinding on his hand, anything to get you to cum so you can finally clench around him. you yelp when you cum, releasing your load for the nth time of the night, your count completely lost as stars occupy your mind.

yangyang sits up from beneath you, your hips meeting his. you mindlessly grind on his crotch as his lips meet yours and his hands rest on your hips, letting his fingers rub comforting circles, trailing down to your thighs to give a squeeze.

“someday your gonna let me squish my head between those things, yeah?” he pulls away, his voice low and dripping with lust. you nod with a whine, sinking down on him, hoping, but to no avail, missing his cock. “that’s what happens to impatient girls. only patient girls will get what they want.” he teases, his fingers teasing your core again.

after a couple of rubs his fingers slide to pump his cock, before lining up his cock to your folds. his hand guides your hips down and he fills you up to the brim.

and this bitch is deep.

his tip is already twitching inside of you, needy to release inside of your warm body. “oh fuck it.” his hands begin untying the ribbon, no longer finding it sexy. “hold on tight princess.” so you do, sandwiching your body with his, arms wrapped around his back. once your situated, his hips buck up and slam into you, letting you choke out a moan. “pretty girl is tight for me.” he grunts, his cock even struggling to slide with how tight you clenched.

your sensitivity allowed you to cum early, his hips continuing to buck into you and fuck your cum inside of you. a beautiful squelching sound fills the dim, christmas tree lit living room. his pace quickens, his hands more than secure on your sides, keeping your fucked out expression on display for him.

he cums. inside of you.

he growls when he does so, and it’s like setting off a firework in him because he continues to thrust. “gonna fuck my cum deep inside of you. gon make you have to live off of my cum. you like that?” you nod. “oh baby. you’re gonna be so glad you said that. because i’m gonna fuck you all day. you understand? not letting you go until you’re crying for me to stop.”

@neocoffeecafe

#✘ 【 nct 】#✘ 【 nct smut 】#✘ 【 wayv 】#✘ 【 wayv smut 】#✘ 【 nct yangyang 】#✘ 【 wayv yangyang 】#✘ 【 nct yangyang smut 】#✘ 【 wayv yangyang smut 】#✘ 【 yangyang 】#✘ 【 yangyang smut 】#⋆ divider ★#yangyang smut

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dellalyra · 11 months

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FAMILY FORMATIONS PART FIFTEEN

SUMMARY:

Request from @criminalbenzene

Hi, it’s my first request, so please correct me if needed.

How about reader being sick and Gojo has to buy some medicine while taking care of the kids and he panics a little?

I love your Family Formations series, can’t wait for more xx

CW: swearing, illness, gojo is the best, fluff, the healthiest relationship ever, papa satoru, domestic sweetness

A/N: welcome back to our regular scheduling of domestic sweetness bc the manga breaks our hearts! I love this request it was sm fun and timely bc I currently have the flu so also very self-indulgent. Keep requests comin’ x x

Masterlist

“AaChOOooO”

Followed by sniffles and then a quick sound of the bathroom door slamming shut, and Satoru was racing into your joint bedroom. Hearing retching from the other side of the door, he pushed it open and crouched beside you, willing himself not to vomit too as he held back your hair.

After a few silent moments, the strength to speak returned and Satoru handed you your water bottle and a cloth.

“You’re sick.” He speaks.

“Oh, am I? Huh - didn’t notice.” You say, going to stand but legs giving way beneath you.

“Oh well I see the flu isn’t immune to sarcasm then – maybe they’ll put it in the next vaccine.” He grins, wrapping an arm around your waist and legs and effortlessly swooshing you up bridal style to carry you into bed.

“What are you doing? I have to get the kids to school.” You were pushed into the bed and rolled into a burrito straitjacket with your comforter.

“Oh yeah? How are you gonna do that if you can’t stand it? Gonna bring them there on a leaf with your technique?” He asks, booping your nose.

“Satoru - they’ve to be there in 45 minutes and Megumi isn’t even awake. I –” and the rest of your sentence was cut off by your lungs trying to exit your body.

Rubbing your back through your coughing fit, Satoru sends off several fast and probably dismissive texts.

“I’ll handle it, gotta get you better sweetheart! I’m playing sexy Dr Gojo today.” He laughs, tucking you in, and for once, you don’t have the energy to argue. That’s how he knows you’re ill.

You’re asleep before he even leaves the room.

Wandering languidly into the kitchen he sees Tsumiki, now 9 years old, walking in with a smile on her face, always a morning person – unlike anyone else in the house.

Next come Megumi, a very mature 7, who stumbles in with his frog pyjamas looking like they might be on backwards and his face lost in a tangle of hair.

“Where’s Y/N?” He says, eyeing Satoru. That’s when Satoru realised, he doesn’t know how weekday mornings go in his own house because he always leaves for a quick morning exorcism before he has to start class at 9 am at the high school. He’d been a teacher since about a year you both left high school, but he still took on the biggest share of missions (gotta flex those strongest skills).

“She’s sick, bud. So today! You have me! Woohoo!” They both immediately ask if you are okay, and Tsumiki starts to fuss about doctors and medicine.

“She’s okay guys - it’s just the flu, Yaga had it last week, so she probably picked it up at school. Now – who wants breakfast?” He asks, wrapping your flowery pink apron with bows and frills around his slim waist.

The kids glance warily at each other – Satoru was many things, but a chef wasn’t one of them. He winds up attempting to make bacon and eggs, but the eggs are so salty, and the bacon so burned that even Tsumiki ever so politely pushes it across the table, not before frowning at her dramatically gagging brother.

“Okay, fruit and yoghurt it is!” Undeterred, Satoru opens the fridge and grabs a cherry yoghurt for Tsumiki and a mango one for Megumi – their respective favourite flavours. After that he sends both kids off to get dressed and packs what he thinks will make an AWESOME lunch. They won’t be as fun as yours, as you’d become obsessed with making the coolest lunchboxes for all four of you after finding a woman on TikTok doing the same – you loved making the veggies into silly shapes. You and Satoru were eating lunch together at school one day, and as you made sure there was nobody else around you opened both your lunchboxes and he cackled laughing at the fact that in the two adults boxes, there were carrots and tomatoes stuck together with toothpicks to look like penises. God, he loved you. They each get two jam sandwiches, white bread for Megumi and brown for Tsumiki (he’s getting pretty pleased at how much he’s remembering) then some veggie sticks for both because, as you put it,

“As much as we’d all love to exist solely on sugar ‘Toru, the kids especially need fruit and veggies. But yeah, we can have cake for dinner.”

Then a filled-up water bottle for both and a candy bar in each too. He then remembers the little funny notes you pack into all four lunchboxes; he finds the pen and paper and writes two little notes, remembering how you never do very emotional ones for Megumi because they make him uncomfortable, but Tsumiki loves manifestation notes.

On Megumi’s, he draws a frog with crazy spikey hair and a scowl and on Tsumiki’s he writes ‘I’m a kick-ass kid with really cool braid my awesome dad did.’

He puts the boxes in their backpacks and then ushers Tsumiki to your and hers matching ‘get ready’ tables and puts on a YouTube tutorial of French braids and if he says so himself, absolutely nails them. Tsumiki squeals in delight seeing the elaborate decorations of sparkling clips he added and then hugs him and runs to put on her shoes. Satoru then turns to Megumi.

“We gotta do something about that bird's nest kid. How about hair like mine?” He says, fully expecting to be shot down with a blunt insult.

To his utter shock, the kid shrugs, and if Megumi had been facing Satoru, the older man would have seen a spark of excitement in the kid’s eyes. He runs a comb and his hands through his jet-black spikes and then adds some sculpting balm to keep it secure and there is then ying and yang of white and black hairstyles in the hallway mirror.

“Looking almost as handsome as me kid – go break some 8 year old hearts.” Satoru winks at him.

Megumi – inside – is really happy with how his hair looks. He knows Satoru is handsome and his mom is always complimenting him on his ‘pretty snowflake hair’, plus, he’d never tell anyone – but Satoru can be kinda cool. Wouldn’t be the worst thing to look kinda like him, so he turns away from the mirror with a tiny smile.

Loading the kids into the back of his Aston Martin V12, patting your 1956 Cadillac eldorado (baby pink, a 21st birthday gift from Satoru - you’d been saying it was your dream car since you met at 16)

“You get a rest today, old girl.” That car was your pride and joy.

He manages to get them to school with 5 minutes to spare and he is very proud of himself.

On the way home, he pulls into the store and grabs any and all medication he can find. One of each? Do you need painkillers? Cough syrup – get that. Anti- nausea pills? You had a fever that morning – oh my god, is it serious? Do you need the hospital? The sudden memory of a 6 year old Megumi with a fever and you fretting saying that if it got higher you’d have to bring him to hospital. He didn’t even check your temperature, oh my god he’s the worst boyfriend ever. Can fevers get so high they burn you? He should get burn cream. He had been so focused on getting the kids to school so you wouldn’t stress yourself out that he hadn’t had time to think yet. What did you do when the kids were sick? He was usually panicking when they were sick and you – ever practical and motherly, had asked Shoko for advice. Think, Satoru, think. Ice cream.

You’d given the kids ice cream.

The kids.

Wait, were you pregnant?!

Oh god. You were vomiting in the MORNING.

A baby? You two were 21 – and already had 2 kids. But oh – a tiny mix of you and him? He hoped it would have your cute nose.

Hang on – no, you had an IWD. No, IUD? Yeah, IUD. You weren’t pregnant.

Ice cream.

He needed ice cream and he got your favourite peach iced tea and decided to pick up your favourite boba on the way home.

He opened the door and immediately heard coughing, he ran through the house reaching your bedroom and then flung himself onto the bed beside you.

“‘Toru? Why aren’t you at work?” You ask, voice hoarse and raw.

“How can I leave the sick bed of my little wife? You might need the hospital – or water, or kisses. I need to check your fever and make sure you’re not dying.” He frets around you adjusting cushions and blankets.

You can’t help but giggle at his panicked face.

“Baby, first off – you haven’t put a ring on it yet. Next, I’m okay, I have the flu. A day or two in bed with some paracetamol and I’ll be fine. You can chill out, I’m worried about making you sick though.”

You frown at him.

“You are not a doctor! You don’t know this! What if you fever gets higher? What if you vomit your insides up? What if you cough so much you can’t breath? I have my infinity, I can’t get sick!”His words are coming a mile a minute.

“SATORU!” You grab his face in your hands.

Wide icey blue eyes stare back at you.

“I called Shoko when you were out, it’s the flu. I’m okay. You can calm down, now pass me the iced tea and medicine and get into bed with me and watch a film.” Feeling safe to kiss him, you plant a kiss on his forehead – heart swollen by the sheer amount of care and love emanating from him. You were so fucking loved and it felt amazing, especially since you also loved him with every fibre of your being, you’d burn the world for him.

He does as you ask and snuggles in beside you.

He curls you onto his chest, stroking your scalp to ease the headache and you hum at the relief.

“Just having you here makes me feel a million times better already, ‘toru. Thank you. I love you.” You whisper into his T-shirt, a soft smile dancing on your flushed face.

“I love you too, princess. Always. I just wish I could hollow purple the flu for making my babygirl feel shitty.”

At this you let out a loud laugh and reach for the bag of medicine from the pharmacy.

“I know you would ‘toru. And I’d do the same for you.”

He leans to grab the remote to switch on your tv and load up Jurassic Park, your comfort film.

“‘Toru, why did you get me burn cream?”

#submission #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #anime #dad!gojo #jujutsu kaisen imagines #pixie writes: family formations

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