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cowgurrrl · 2 months

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Sleeping on the Blacktop

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: guys we did it i wrote smut i actually like (ps this was edited but also not reread because I’ve been trying to write it for five hours so if you see any mistakes no you didn’t)

Summary: The Land of No Return [4.7k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, platonic expressions of love, the mortifying ordeal of being known, sexting, we finally get to know about reader's secret tattoos, smut, Joel the Menace makes his long awaited return with that dirty fucking mouth, mutual masturbation, phone sex (??(sure)), protected sex (no Miller babies for them) p in v stuff, June being indulgent with describing Joel Miller, anxiety, I think that's it??

Music floods the kitchen as you and Andie work on making the best "last supper but with women" possible. The lamps glow orange on the walls and create funny shadows when you dance together, pulling each other in and out to old jazzy tunes. You laugh when she throws a string of spaghetti at your fridge to test if it's ready a little too hard, and it splatters water everywhere. You, honestly, might be a little delirious. You're both in your pajamas, and you've been watching movies all day. You exchange what you remember from New Year's Eve and cringe at what the other fills in. You drink cheap wine from plastic cups and snack on chips as the food cooks.

It feels like high school again, with all the girlish giggling and inside jokes you trade back and forth, except this time, instead of her going back to her house ten minutes up the road, she's going back to her apartment half the world away. No matter how long you get with her, it's never enough. Thousands of miles and different schedules will do that. Keeping long-distance friendships as an adult is just as hard, if not harder, than making new ones.

When dinner is ready, you fix your plates and sit next to each other at your messy dining room table— the IKEA one she helped you build when Henry walked out with the first one— and eat. Paint stains the wood of the table, and half-finished works are scattered around the dining room, but you barely notice them as you talk. She tells you about the things waiting for her in Vienna: work, her cat, Oslo, and piano lessons. You don't have to pretend to be envious because you are. You have to go back to school and the Real World once you drop her off at the airport in the morning. You wish you could go with her.

"Alright, c'mon. Spill it. What's going on with you and Joel?" She asks in between bites of garlic bread. You laugh and shake your head.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Bullshit. Tommy told me he saw you guys."

"Speaking of Tommy," you pivot. "What's going on there? You two seemed pretty chummy." You raise your eyebrows at her, and a big smile takes over her face. She takes another bite of food to buy herself some time, but there's no way you're letting her off the hook, especially after all her teasing about Joel.

"Nothing. We were just… talking." She finally says, and you give her a look.

"Talking?"

"Yes. People talk. You should try it sometime."

"Was it talking like we are now or talking like Joel and I talked?" You hum, and she kicks her feet as she leans forward.

"So you and Joel did talk."

"Well, we probably would've if somebody didn't come barging in."

"Goddammit, I told him to wait," she groans. "Sorry, girl."

"Yeah, me too," you say, and she laughs. You bump her knee and give her a look. "Alright, your turn. What's going on with Tommy?"

"Nothing that could actually turn into anything."

"Aw, c'mon. Don't count yourself out so early."

"It's not counting myself out. It's being realistic. I live in Vienna. He lives here. I'm not ready to come back to the States, and he seems content, so there's nothing that can happen," she shrugs. "It was a fling. A very nice fling, but a fling nevertheless." She seems a little too sad for it to have been just a fling. They exchanged numbers, and you've caught her texting him several times. She said she did kiss him on New Year's Eve (before she threw up), but they didn't go any further besides flirting the next morning. You watched them test each other at breakfast, and he seemed just as interested in her as she was in him. They'd be cute together. She sighs and pushes her pasta around in her bowl like a dejected character from a period piece.

"Tommy is very handsome." You comment, and she grabs your arm, animating all of a sudden.

"Dude, I've been dying to talk about it. What the fuck are they putting in the water here? It's insane."

"It's annoying, right?"

"So annoying." She agrees. You laugh about it together and, finally, give her the details she's been waiting so patiently for. When you finish your story, her hands are over her mouth, and her eyes are wide. "Oh, my God. You have to get him back."

"I know, I know! He's driving me up a fucking wall." You say, taking a bite of food. It will get cold if you don't stop talking, but you also don't care.

"You could surprise him with some lingerie or something." She suggests, and you groan.

"God, I don't even remember the last time I bought lingerie."

"All the more reason to buy some."

"I don't know. I feel like I could just show up naked, and he'd be happy with that."

"He sounds like a keeper then."

"Yeah, I don't know," you shrug. "I like him a lot. I just… don't know if it's sustainable."

"Why?" She asks. You almost want to gesture around your messy apartment and half-put together life as if it will answer her question.

"I mean, he's a good guy, and we're having fun, but for how long? His kid's gonna be in at least one of my classes until she graduates. Not to mention, he has another daughter who is in medical school. We both work full-time. And then there's the whole having to keep it a secret thing. It could get really old really fast." You sigh.

"What if it doesn't?"

"What?"

"What if it doesn't get old? What if it ends up working out?" She asks. You take a deep breath. "You didn't even think about that possibility. Did you?"

"I just don't wanna get hurt."

"That's a very real possibility. Things could go wrong. He could break your heart. You could lose your job. Society as we know it could come crashing down, and you know what? The sun's still gonna come up the next day. The birds will still sing, and I will still be here," she says, putting her hand over yours. You purse your lips as you process her words. "You deserve nice things, kid. Don't count yourself out so early." She echoes your earlier sentiment, and you smile.

She's right. Of course, she's right. You don't let yourself think good things could happen because you're so focused on all the bad. She's known you for so long she can read your thoughts and know your habits before you can. What a horrifying and beautiful thing it is to be known inside and out like that.

"Maybe you should've been a writer instead of a musician," you say, and she laughs. You squeeze her hand and sigh as you look at her. "I'm really gonna miss you."

"I'm really gonna miss you, too."

"I wish you could stay."

"I know," she says. "But you need an excuse to come to Vienna, and I need an excuse to come to Austin, and if I stay, we lose that."

"I guess that's true."

"Besides, if I stop making trans-Atlantic calls, I think my phone company would be concerned." She points out, making you laugh. You know she's telling you what she's told herself this whole time. She loves Vienna, but you know she gets homesick. You know she's trying really hard to convince herself to get back on that plane. You don't push her about staying again. You just indulge in her presence.

"I love you." You say softly, and she smiles.

"I love you, too." She says.

It means so much more than just "I love you." It means, "I love you, and I want us both to eat well." It means, "I love you, and I can't imagine doing this life without you." It means, "I love you, and I know you have to go." Never any buts. Always ands, because love like this knows no bounds. Not borders, not time zones, not lifestyles.

You finish the dinner you made and clean the kitchen side by side before climbing into bed and staying up as late as possible to try and get Andie back on Vienna time. In the morning, you drag yourselves out of bed and sing in the car on the way to get coffee, and when the time comes for you to get her suitcase out of your backseat and watch her disappear behind glass doors, you hug her tight and tell her you love her again. She repeats the sentiment with another squeeze and deep breath that tells you how close to tears she is. Then, she turns around and doesn't look back to prove she's strong enough to leave. She doesn't need to prove anything to you. You always knew she was strong enough to do this.

The car ride back is emotional and lonely and tinged with the bass line of Ribs by Lorde, but your phone buzzes as you pull back into your apartment complex with tears staining your cheeks.

Thanks for letting us meet Andie. She's a really sweet person. I'm sorry she has to leave today.

You don't remember telling him what day she was leaving, but she might've told Tommy, and Tommy told Joel. You smile and text him back.

Thanks for taking care of us. She only had good things to say about you and Tommy. We'll have to all hang out again the next time she's home.

And then.

Thanks for checking on me. I really appreciate it.

Of course. I'm always a wreck when I have to drop Sarah off at the airport. I'm around if you wanna talk. Ellie's hanging out with some friends, and Tommy's on-site today.

You stare at the messages and debate your options. He basically just told you he's home alone and has nothing to do for the rest of the day. And yes, he is probably being sweet and really offering to talk if you're feeling lonely, but you also know how talking usually goes for you two. You smirk as you type out a message.

Just talk?

It seems like he can't type fast enough.

What else would you wanna do?

I think you made some promises you need to follow through on, Miller.

I guess I did.

Come over and I can do just that.

Actually, I have some work to get done :( maybe next time?

You lock your phone and bound up to your apartment, conscious of the sudden lengthening of time between messages. It's fun to imagine him trying to come up with a response that respects your boundaries but also lets you know how needy he is. He may have started this little game, but you're gonna be the one to perfect it. Thus begins the days upon days of not sexting, but not not sexting.

At first, it's just messages about how you miss him and wish he was around. He tries to find an excuse to come over, but you effectively cockblock him at every turn. Your response times get a little slower the more worked up he gets, so he has to figure it out on his own. You never would've thought Joel Miller, a man with gray in his beard and wrinkles lining his face, could be such a fast texter, but you figure there's nothing more desperate than a horny man.

Messages quickly escalate to pictures. They start off innocent enough: a picture of the painting you're working on, but your bare legs give away the fact that you're not wearing pants, a picture of him stepping out of a hot shower, his bare chest slightly red and glistening from the water, a picture of you wearing the burnt orange shirt he sent you home in New Year's Day with no bra on underneath. Then, you get a little bolder. After a quick trip to the mall, you pose in front of the mirror in a short delicate white night down with pretty lace details on the top, the hem barely hitting the tops of your thighs and showing off the large tattoos hiding there. You look hot, and imagining Joel's reaction to you makes you flush and rub your thighs together to get some relief.

It's true that Joel would've been happy if you showed up to his house wearing (or not wearing) anything, but when the photo pings to his phone, he's never been more grateful for Victoria's Secret in his life. His breath hitches in his throat, and he quickly tucks his phone into his chest like someone is gonna come up behind him and see what he's looking at. He's barely glanced at the photo and he's already straining in his jeans.

Goddamn, he texts back. You're so fucking pretty, baby.

You like it?

It's a dumb question, but you really don't care.

It's perfect.

What do you like about it?

Besides the fact that you're the one wearing it? I like that it makes you look like more of an angel than you already are, and I like that I can finally see those tattoos you've been hiding from me.

Bingo, you think to yourself. He was able to catch glimpses of the large pieces hiding on your back and shoulders at the art gallery, and when he picked up on New Year's Eve, you caught him staring at them each time. You thought he was following the inky lines up your body, but you couldn't be sure. Now, he's giving himself away, and you're practically buzzing with excitement.

You turn around in the mirror and arch your back, perfectly showing off your ass and the intricate tattoo lining your spine, and snap a picture. It's one of the largest ones you have, and it's also the easiest to hide. Besides, you definitely didn't get it for your own enjoyment. You live for moments like this. You send him the picture and smile as you type.

Like this one?

Your phone rings not even two minutes after he reads the message. You giggle when he groans into the receiver instead of greeting you.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me, baby." He says, his voice so deep you can practically feel it rumble against your ear.

"I told you I'd get you back." You say it like it's obvious, but he just hums. There's shuffling on his end, and all you can do is wait for him to say something else.

"What else have you been hidin' underneath all those little dresses, hm?" He asks. "Tattoos. The most fuckin' perfect tits I've ever seen. Anythin' else I should know bout? 'S your pussy as pretty as the rest of ya?" You didn't mean for him to hear you gasp, but he seemed pleased that he could pull such a sound from you without even being in the same room. Just like that, any doubt or reservation you had left flies out the window. You finally cave and slip your hand down your panties to glide your fingers through your folds. "Am I makin' you wet, sweetheart?"

"Fuck," you mumble. It's absurd how turned on you are by this whole thing. Your fingers slowly circle your clit, and your head gets so fuzzy you almost forget to respond to him. "Yes, Joel."

"Are you playin' with yourself?" He asks, and you nod even though he can't see you. "Poor thing. I wish I could be there to help ya. I'd have you spread open for me so I can touch you however I want. Figure out what you like and what makes you cry for me." You put him on speaker and throw your phone down so you can focus on gliding through your wetness, your middle finger pushing into you slowly.

"What... what would you do?" You ask, breathless.

"I'd start by usin' my fingers just to feel you out, and I bet you'd feel so fuckin' good. I'd play with your clit until you're beggin' me to put a finger inside you, and I'd slip two in slowly while kissin' your inner thighs and watchin' you squeeze my fingers," you moan as you listen to his raspy voice and fuck yourself to his words. You try to imagine what his fingers would feel like inside of you. How different compared to yours, how much better they'd feel. Goddammit. "Then, I'd use my mouth on you while my fingers move in and out. I'd lick you all over and feel you soakin' me when I suck on your clit." He says, and you return to rubbing said bundle of nerves, faster this time, as you become acutely aware of his labored breathing over the phone.

Is he touching himself? The idea of him holding the phone with one hand and fisting his cock with the other sends a wave of heat down your spine, and you keen into your own hand. A shaky breath and muttered curse leave his lips, and then you know for sure what he's doing. Your head spins, and you'd be embarrassed by how close you are just from his voice if you weren't entirely focused on the pleasure clouding your brain.

"Fuck, Joel-"

"I know, baby, I know," he coos sympathetically. Another lewd moan leaves you as you get closer and closer to the edge, stars threatening the corners of your vision. "Are you gonna come for me like this?" He asks, and you hum in the affirmative, not trusting yourself to form words. "Come on. Let me hear you. I wanna hear what you sound like when you fall apart." His voice is coming faster and breathier, a light growl at the end of his words. How are you to deny him that?

The speed of your fingers on your clit increases, but it's his own broken whimpers that finally do it. Your back arches as the waves wash over you, and noises you didn't even know you could make escape your lips. You can vaguely hear a broken sigh accentuated by a particularly hot whine from Joel's end. Henry was never as vocal or talkative as Joel is. None of your past partners have been. In the aftershocks of your orgasm, you have a quick passing thought that he might ruin dating for you. You might never want to see anyone else who doesn't treat you like this. You might be fucked.

"Joel," you say when you have control over your thoughts again. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

"Yeah?"

"Get the fuck over here now."

Joel's house is on the other side of Austin. With traffic, getting to your apartment can take anywhere from twenty to forty-five minutes, depending on how fast you're willing to go and how many red lights you can pass under. Joel gets there in fifteen. You're still in the flouncy dress you bought specifically to torture him, but by the time you open the door for him, you're much less interested in making his life any more miserable than you already have over the past week.

He doesn't hesitate to charge into your apartment, grab your face, and kiss you like his life depends on it. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and you open to him, clinging to him as his hands move from your face to the backs of your thighs to pick you up. You squeal in surprise and lock your legs around his waist to bring him closer and keep yourself from falling. Even though he obviously came over the phone at the same time you did, he's hard again and pressing against your bare pussy. He hisses when you grind against him, and his jaw clenches as he pulls away like he's in pain.

"Where's your bedroom?" He asks, wide eyes searching the hallway behind you.

"First door on the left." You say as you duck your head to kiss his neck. He sighs and indulges in the feeling of your tongue against his skin before he finally finds his feet and stumbles into your bedroom. You're halfway through marking him before he lays you down and immediately rucks his hands up your thighs, spreading them apart and making you whine.

"You okay?" He asks, stopping all movement to scan over your face for any signs of discomfort. You nod and reach for the buttons of his jeans.

"Yes. Just need you." You say.

"Are you sure?"

"Joel, I just came from the sound of your voice. Yes, I'm fucking sure." You say, a little frenzied as you pull at the hem of his shirt. He laughs as he pulls it over his head and quickly unzips his jeans.

"Feisty."

"Can you blame me?" You ask, and he shakes his head. He tugs his jeans and his briefs down at the same time and unveils all of him to you in one go. He's beautiful. You knew he would be, but seeing the graying chest hairs and the pretty happy trail leading down to his hard cock in between his strong, tan thighs is an entirely different thing. You reach for him, desperate to feel the weight of him in your hands, but he stops you by slipping the tiny straps of your night gown down your arms.

He carefully pulls the fabric down your body until it's pooled next to his clothes on the floor. His eyes fall to the black lines wrapping around your shoulders, and he draws his eyes to your collarbones and sternum, his breathing stuttering at the sight of you laid out under him.

"So much prettier than I imagined." He murmurs as he ducks his head to kiss the valley between your breasts. You smile and run your hands through his curls as he mouths at your chest, leaving red marks in his wake and making you press him closer.

"How many times have you thought about this?" You ask. Has he always wanted you in the way you've wanted him? You're almost positive he has. There's no other way to explain the reverence with which he's looking at you. He's so wrapped up in you it's almost suffocating. Every time you glance at his face, he's staring at you with soft eyes and blown pupils.

"Lost count." There it is. The confirmation. You grab at his ribs to bring him closer, pulling him over you to kiss him slow and deep. Despite the heat of him against you and the ache between your thighs, you both take the time to savor it. That is until his overthinking takes over. "I didn't bring a condom. Fuck, I was in a rush. I didn't think." He says quickly, like he's waiting for you to back out or push him away. You bring your thumb up to the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows and smooth it away, kissing his jaw.

"You think I would get you all worked up to not be prepared? C'mon, baby," you turn the nickname around on him, and he leans into your hand like a cat. "Top drawer." You say. He scrambles to your bedside table and grabs the first one he can find as you move onto all fours while he's distracted. You listen for the foil ripping and the subtle sound of the latex fitting over him. You can't stop the smirk from forming when he looks up and sees the sight in front of him.

"Fuckin' Hell," he mutters. Your back is arched perfectly, your hair gathered over your shoulder, and the tattoo you got done so many years ago is on display for him. "You are so goddamn perfect." He says as he presses his chest into your back and kisses your shoulder. He plants a few more kisses across your neck and back, making you wait longer than you already have, and just when you think you're going crazy, he slowly pushes into you and punches all the air from your lungs.

He's big. Bigger than anyone you've been with before, and he seems to know that. He rolls his hips, and you moan, gripping at the sheets under you for stability as you adjust. His breathing is ragged behind you, and he groans when you involuntarily clench around him. "You okay?" He asks, his voice straining. His patience and self-control should be fucking studied.

"Yeah, I'm okay." You assure him, and he nods. He starts to move slowly at first, but when you start whining and shaking under him, he snaps. You're both impatient. Months of following the rules and caring about what other people could think or say tumble out of your heads as he sets a rough pace. You've been dreaming about this and pushing it away since he walked into your classroom that day, and now that it's happening, you can't hide how desperate you are for him. You cry his name as he fucks into you deeply, no part of your bodies not touching, but it's still not close enough.

"You're so fuckin' good for me, baby. Jesus fuck," he moans into your ear, his uneven breaths echoing into your skull. "You feel so good."

He sits back and brings you with him, changing the angle and forcing him deeper inside of you as his hand snakes around your waist and dips to play with your clit. You curse loudly and dig your nails into his forearm as bright pleasure courses through your veins. "'M gonna come if you keep doing that," you warn, your voice high and strained as he adds a little more pressure.

"C'mon, honey, come on my cock for me. Please, I want it." It could be the slight whine in his voice or the fact that he's begging you for it, or the fact that the tight circles he's rubbing into your clit are making you see stars, but you come hard. You rely on him to hold you upright as he fucks you through your high, the slick between your thighs growing as his own orgasm washes over him, and he moans directly in your ear, an unexpected but not unpleasant gift. You think you could get off again just to the sounds he makes when he's coming.

You stay like that for a second, wrapped up in each other and breathing hard with him still inside you, before he finally finds the courage to slip out of you with only a tiny pained moan. He carefully guides you onto your back, your bones jelly, and kisses your cheek before he pads off to the bathroom to throw away the used condom.

It's quiet again in the apartment, but it's not lonely anymore. He makes himself at home in your space, asking if he can get water and snacks from your kitchen and walking around naked as the day he was born. "I wanna make sure you've got enough energy for round two." He says, making you laugh.

"Are you finally gonna make good on your promise to take your time with me?"

"Fuck yeah." He says, coming back to kiss your lips one more time before walking to the kitchen. It's like if he goes a few minutes without tasting you, he can't function, or at least, that's what he makes it seem like. You're more than receptive to the attention and can only watch as he walks around. Your trust in your legs is not strong enough to get up just yet.

In the domestic silence, it would be easy for your mind to run rampant with rogue thoughts and anxieties, but when Joel returns to the bedroom with snacks, bottles of water, and those stupidly sweet eyes, they get pushed to the back burner. He gets under the covers and pulls you into him, his warm body grounding you to this moment and not letting your thoughts stray. He presses kisses to your hair and your face every so often as you talk about everything and nothing.

Somehow, it feels natural, like you've been doing this the whole time or like everything was leading up to this. Maybe it was. Still, you'll need to talk about this. You know you will.

Just... not yet.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01

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lives-in-midgard · 5 months

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🎄Christmas With The Maximoff Family 🎄

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary: After celebrating Easter and Halloween with Wanda and her kids it's time to celebrate the Christmas season.

Word Count: 945

A/N: Hey everyone! Here is another fic with the Maximoff Family. I think I should really make a Masterlist with the fics I wrote for them as a family now. Hope you enjoy! 💗

Divider made by @saradika.

Prompt 19: Family time AU

(prompt from @buckys-wintersoldier)

Masterlist | Fluffcember Masterlist

It was just a few days after Wanda and you took down the Halloween decorations around the house, and when you asked her to help you move the Christmas decorations from the garage into the house. You had the idea to surprise Billy and Tommy with it when they got home later. So, you and Wanda went to the garage right after breakfast. You looked around and immediately found the boxes with Christmas things you put there when you moved in. You were so excited to celebrate your first Christmas with them. You can’t wait to experience all the activities and traditions that lie ahead.

“Wow, detka, you really love Christmas.” Wanda said when she saw how much it was.

“Yeah, I really do.” Wanda laughed and then helped you carry everything into the house. With the help of her magic, you finished very quickly. You looked around for a while and didn’t really know where to start because now you not only have your things, but also Wanda’s Christmas decorations. Wanda decided to put on some music and then the two of you started decorating. While decorating, you would sometimes look at her and smile. If you had to stand on a ladder to hang something up, Wanda could use her magic.

“Let me help you detka.” Wanda said when she saw you. She quickly walked towards you until she was standing next to you. You didn’t know what Wanda was planning until you suddenly flew through the air and landed perfectly in her arms. You looked at her and started blushing and hiding your face in her neck. Wanda started giggling and gently dropped you back to the floor. You both smiled at each other. Then Wanda leaned in, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed you. As you broke the kiss you said.

“But now we have to move on before Agnes comes home with the boys.” Wanda looked at the clock and then nodded.

“Oh yeah, we really have to.” After half an hour you were finished and went into the kitchen with Wanda to start cooking. You were putting the food in the oven and were about to kiss her again when suddenly the door opened, and you heard Billy and Tommy come in. Wanda looked at you a little annoyed.

“They always come at the right moment.” You chuckled and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then took her hand and walked into the living room.

“Wow, that looks so cool.” Billy said and both kids looked around smiling.

“It was your moms’ idea.” Wanda said, looking over at you. You blushed and nodded. It still felt new to be called their mom by Wanda and other people, but you were so happy with them.

“I also wanted to decorate but Ralph said it was too early.”

“Oh, Agnes, don’t listen to him. Do what you want to do!” Wanda advised her. They talked for a while, but you couldn’t hear about what, because Billy and Tommy were now asking you about some Christmas traditions, they would like to do this year.

“Let’s talk to your mama about it later, okay.” You suggested. And that’s exactly what you did later that day. Wanda made a list of all the activities you would like to do.

Time passed and you did many things that you wanted to do. You went ice skating, built a gingerbread house, and watched movies together. When it started snowing, you had a snowball fight and had a really nice time together. You and Wanda made a homemade Advent calendar for Billy and Tommy. They were very excited and happy to open it every day. One day you suggested going to a Christmas market and the boys went there to meet Santa. On a snowy afternoon you wanted to decorate the Christmas tree together. It was such a beautiful and special memory for all of you.

You and Wanda also had some special moments just for the two of you. One time when you were baking cookies together it ended in a fight and the two of you ended up full of all sorts of things. Then you had to take a shower and then snuggled up in bed to watch a movie.

You had such a wonderful Christmas time together and now it was finally Christmas morning. When you woke up, Wanda placed a soft kiss on your forehead. You cuddled for a while and talked about whatever came to mind.

“I love you so much, Wands.” You said after a while.

“I love you too, detka.”

“I can’t wait to see Billy and Tommy’s reaction to their gifts and yours to my gift.”

“Me too and I can’t wait to see what you’ll say to mine.” You stayed in bed for a few more minutes until you heard Billy and Tommy knock on the door.

“Mama, mom!” They shouted and you both chuckled.

“Come in, boys.” Wanda yelled back and the door opened as quickly as possible. They ran to the bed and jumped in.

“Slow down boys.” You said but also had to laugh because they were so excited.

“Can we see what Santa put under the tree?” Billy and Tommy looked between the two of you. You looked over at Wanda and nodded at her.

“Sure, let’s go.” She said, jumped off the bed but waited for you and Wanda to get up and go downstairs with you. As the boys ran to the tree, you took Wanda’s hand and kissed her on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, detka.”

Taglist:

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onepiecepetalfanfics089 · 23 days

Note

How do you think Sanji would react to reader fasting?

Honestly, hard to say lol! Very intriguing though! I feel like it would honestly depend on the reason they’re fasting, as long as they’re doing it in a healthy way, and they promise to eat when it’s time then he’ll be okay with it! but here’s a little something that I wrote for it 💗

Tapping your fingers nervously on the side of the decks railing you sighed, recently you had started fasting. What was there to be worried about?..the whole crew was very much understanding and it shouldn’t really be that much of a problem at all right?..

Yeahh maybe not..

The only problem was Sanji, the cook of the crew.

Usually with anything else he would be fine with it, Sanji is a very easy going and chill person most of the time, but when it comes to his cooking..and you?..

You didn’t want to upset him at all, his food was absolutely delicious and it’s not like you were doing it out of spite or anything..so why on earth do you feel so anxious?

Well, how bad can it really go? Today is a chill day, despite all the crazy adventures you all go on, you were at sea and not heading anywhere for a while. You definitely had a few hours until the crew usually ate dinner-

“Y/N! Hurry up! Didn’t you hear me yelling dinner was ready? Sanji even made your favorite!”

You jumped slightly, why you?…

Standing behind you was Usopp, hands on his hips and a thick eyebrow raised. He knew about your fasting since you trusted him quite a bit. You glanced away, looking at the beautiful sunset before to try to avoid his stare.

“Uh..well..”

“Wait..don’t tell me you haven’t told him yet?..!”

He said, blinking and speaking in an almost incredulous tone. You e been fasting for about..a month now..he was honestly impressed at how you kept it so hidden.

“I just..haven’t got to it yet okay?!”

You said with a sigh, glancing at him and turning back towards him, leaning against the railing with pursed lips almost.

“Like I said earlier, I don’t think he’ll understand maybe!”

You said, another sigh escaping your lips. Like it was contagious, Usopp let out one as well, a half smile displaying on his lips.

“Oh please..everyone knows you’re practically his favorite..you’ll be fine.”

He said, waving a dismissive hand at you. Looking up at him from under your eyelashes you decided, it was time..he did have a point after all..

As you and the Sniper of the crew approached the dining hall, your thoughts were a bit..cluttered. At the same time you knew you weren’t to be so nervous, why should you be? But you just didn’t know how this was going to play out..you were positive Sanji had never been confronted with his whole life!

The sound of laughing and chatter soon filled the room you were in as you saw everyone eating happily, not a care in the world for them it seemed. Plates being sat on the table, glass clinking together was also heard. Your eyes slowly wondered around the room for your cook with the curly eyebrow.

And then, you spotted him.

He was standing by the sink, finding up something that was covered by the counter walls. Usopp gave you a wink fur good luck and went to go join the rest of the crew, grabbing his plate.

You took a deep breath and then sighed.

Man, you were really doing that a lot today huh?

Once you were behind the sink, you approached him, giving a polite yet sweet smile.

“Hey Sanji!..”

You said softly despite the fact that you were a bit uneasy for obvious reasons..

He took a glance at you and then another, blinking a bit before you saw his eyes light up, a big grin now plastered on his face. Come to think of it, he always had that when he saw you..

“Ah, Y/N-chan~! You’re just in time..I was getting a little worried..but I have your plate right here, ready for you to eat~!”

He said in that sane high pitched tone he used with you that always made you laugh. Now that you think of it, was that what he was doing and why he was standing there? You glanced down to see your plate by his hands at the moment, all fixed up and perfectly positioned.

Your heart almost melted..he was standing here the whole time, waiting for you and guarding your plate from a certain captain with a straw hat..

“Aww, that’s very sweet of you Sanji but..that’s exactly what I came here to talk to you about..I need to tell you something..”

You said, looking over him for a minute to make sure he was paying attention. His gaze was locked on you, rather intently..

Great! Now’s your chance!

“So uh, I’ve recently decided to start fasting..it’s because {your reason}, the reason why I haven’t told you id because well, I didn’t want you to get offended..your cooking is absolutely delicious! I’ve just made this choice..so..I hope you’re okay with it..”

He paused.

You glanced at the smoke spread around him from his cigarette, his blue eyes staring into yours the whole time. He then..chuckled a bit.

He closed his eyes for a moment taking his cigarette out and blowing smoke out almost efficiently.

“Well..Y/N..i cant force you to do anything..I’d just wish you would’ve told me sooner..just promise me that you’ll continue to eat full meals..and stay on the schedule your on..okay?”

You couldn’t have smiled more.

The next day rolled around and you got up early, earlier than anyone else to eat of course. Walking to the kitchen, you opened the fridge to make you something quick yet filling.

There you saw a plate of your favorite foods, covered in plastic wrap with a note attached to it.

“For Y/N, hope you enjoy my dear! ♡”

A/N:Hiiiii!! So sorry for the late notice but I had a busy day yesterday 😭 so this should hold you goes over until I can post the next chapter or Enchanted! It will be posted later tonight or tomorrow at latest! I will warn you guys that it will most likely be veryyy veryyy late! But I hope you liked this little oneshot! It’s a cute story don’t ya think?~ And I will say my writing has very much improved 😋 but I’ll see you later my lovelies! Thank you so much to the person who asked this! 💗🌸

Until next time my lovely petals~! 🪷🌷(by next time I mean like, in a few hours!)

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thesimulationswarm · 6 months

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Garden of Earthly Delights - one shot

sub!Joel Miller x f!dom!reader

A/N: I've been sick and sort of in a feverish fugue state for a couple of days and I wrote this. Definitely inspired by reading this excellent sub!Joel fic by @haylzcyon, but it turned out quite a bit darker. So, welcome to my horny fever dream I guess? Summary: Joel gets dommed by a bratty shopgirl he meets in the Boston QZ and discovers a very unexpected side of himself Rating: explicit 18+ MDNI Word count: 3.5k Warnings/tags: no use of y/n, hard dom!reader, irresponsible dom behavior that would be abusive irl (don't dom people you meet on the street kids. And for god's sake, use active consent and a safe word), reader described as young and has hair, slapping, spitting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex, premature ejaculation, cum eating, praise, degradation, pet names (good boy, baby boy, kitten, mama), submissive produce washing

Joel was tired, and hungry, and he wanted to go home. At home he had half a bottle left of some dark moonshine that approximated whiskey, and a day off tomorrow to sleep through its aftereffects. But his cupboards were otherwise empty, and he knew he needed to lay in some supplies.

Unfortunately, it was the end of first shift and half of the goddamn QZ was thinking the same thing. The line snaking up to the counter at the ration shop was moving slower than he even thought possible, and he shifted irritably from side to side. He was trying, unsuccessfully, to find a way to stand that didn’t make his whole body hurt.

Even more maddening, only one person was working the counter today. He was sympathetic with operations being short staffed, but that clearly wasn’t the case. He could see right past the greasy hair of the young guy doling out food, and another person was back there, just leaning against the wall. Looking bored.

He watched you as you idly checked your nails. He watched you as you ran your fingers through your hair. He watched you cock one hip to the side and lean down to pull a shiny red apple from a burlap sack, then toss it loosely back and forth between your hands. Like you had all the time in the goddamn world.

You were beautiful.

You were young.

You weren’t bothered one bit by the grumbling line of customers stretching down the street.

He fucking hated you.

Finally, he reached the front, throwing down a thick sheaf of ration cards. “Two loaves a’ bread. Cooking oil. And a couple apples,” he grunted out.

“Sorry, out of apples,” the gormless kid answered. Behind him, he watched as you lifted the smooth red fruit to your lips and bit down, hard, the flesh giving way with a gratifying crunch. You noted with satisfaction that it was a particularly good apple— tart, sweet, crisp.

The shop boy saw Joel glaring and shrugged. “Last one.” Joel looked over at where you stood again, one knee bent with your foot pressed oh-so-casually against the cinderblock wall. Beside you, the burlap sack bulged with the shape of a good dozen round, suspiciously apple-sized lumps.

A thin rivulet of juice dripped out from the fruit in your hand, sliding down the curve of your wrist. You saw him watching you, and you bent your head to run your tongue along your skin, lapping up every last, sweet drop.

You liked the way he was looking at you. An older guy, gray streaking through his dark hair and down his stubbled jawline. But fucking built, the solid shape of his shoulders stretching out the worn chambray of his work shirt. His eyes were narrowed, his strong brow pinched. The cut of his jaw practically vibrating with tension.

He wanted to kill you. He also, definitely, wanted to fuck you. Maybe both at the same time. And below all of that simmering ferociousness, there was a hint of something else in his big brown eyes. Something that definitely interested you.

He’d been halfway home when a FEDRA sweep forced him back in the direction of the shops. He wasted a good hour waiting for a bunch of fifteen-year-olds in body armor to “clear the area,” then finally got back on his way.

He was deep in thought, thinking about a smuggling trip he was planning for late next week. Wondering if the soldier he was bribing for intel was too far gone on oxy to be reliable anymore. He didn’t want a repeat of last November, inches away from being gunned down as his crew sprinted across what was supposed to be an unguarded field at the edge of town.

So he didn’t see you coming until you were only a couple yards in front of him, walking home yourself— bag of apples slung over your shoulder.

When his eyes flicked up, finally, you’d stopped walking and were standing there in a wide stance with one hand on your hip. You saw the way his eyes widened briefly, then narrowed again, shining darkly as you watched him watching you. You ran your tongue around the perimeter of your lips, and his gaze followed its slow swirl.

Then you reached into your bag and pulled out an apple. You gave your arm a desultory swing and let it loose. It bounced to the ground, rolling toward his boots, then came to a stop just an inch away from him.

He looked at the apple.

He looked at you.

“Thought you might like a taste.”

The loathing that poured over his features was so intense that for a moment, you thought you might’ve misread things. But no, you could see it there in his face again. That bloom of need.

This poor, beautiful man needed to be taken care of.

And sure enough, you watched as he crouched down there in the street to pick up the apple. You watched as he straightened himself up, his knees crackling audibly.

“Good. Now take a bite.”

The apple, tasty as it was sure to be, had just rolled across the godforsaken ground of Boston QZ. Across dust and ash and human detritus, ground down to a smudging blackness that covered every surface here. He didn’t even know why he’d picked the thing up, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to put his mouth on it.

He shook his head, lip curling in a sneer.

“Don’t think so, honey.”

You tutted softly, walking forward to close the gap between you. He held the apple down at one side, the other hand hooked into his belt loop. Shoulders squaring up to you as you neared. Even as he was doing it, he felt like a fool. What exactly did he have to prove to this bratty little shopgirl? And why wasn’t he walking away?

“That’s really too bad,” you said, letting your words drip slowly from your mouth. “I thought you were gonna be a good boy for me.”

You were right in front of him now, close enough to see the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickened.

“‘Cause I know how to take really good care of good boys.”

Joel closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t understand why, but his cock had swollen to half-mast just from crouching down to pick up that apple while you stood over him. And every time you spoke he felt more warmth pooling in his groin. He wasn’t sure if he was going to have to pay for what you were offering, or if you’d do it for free. But he knew he wanted it, unexpectedly, very badly.

He clenched his hand around the smooth skin of the fruit, and against his conscious judgement he felt his arm lifting it up toward his face.

You watched him moving, his eyes still closed, a smile slowly spreading across your face. As the fruit approached his gently parting lips, you reached up to grab him by the wrist, stilling him. You could feel the jump of his pulse below the rough skin.

“Not so fast, boy.” His eyes blinked open, their soft brown blown out to black. “I think since you’re being so good, we can go back to your place and get that apple nice and clean for you. And then you can show me how pretty you are when you eat.”

His place was nicer than many, a handful of rooms that were worn but clean. Functional furniture, a radio, a shelf with books. He clearly was doing okay for himself. The ones who needed this the most usually were.

He led you inside with a nervous energy that told you he hadn’t done this before. He’d surely brought women to his apartment, with those broad shoulders and that roughly handsome face. But never someone like you. And he wasn’t sure what to do. He stood in the living room, still holding the apple in one hand, his other hand clenching and opening at his side.

You looked him up and down. “What’s your name?”

You saw him hesitate. Wondering if this was a good idea— if you were a psychopath about to rob him or worse. But then he swallowed.

“Joel.”

“Joel,” you purred. “Do you have soap, Joel?” He looked blank for a second, then nodded. “Then go and wash that filthy apple off like a good boy.”

He paused again, and then gave a bewildered shake of his head before walking off toward the kitchen. There was a table in the room, across from an unmade bed. You pulled yourself up to sit on top of it, resting your feet on the seat of a battered old chair, and waited.

Joel returned after a minute, holding the now damp and glistening apple. He still wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Or his body. He held the fruit out to you, watched the bored way your eyes ran down his form as you sat there.

You made a soft tsk. “I see a speck of dirt. Better try again, boy.”

Joel looked at the spotless apple, then back at you. His heart felt like it was going to beat right through the wall of his chest.

He hated you.

And he wanted to hear you call him a good boy again.

He stalked off to the kitchen and stood by the sink, carefully running the damp, soapy washrag back and forth across the smooth, hard peel. The apple was a deep red, flecked with burgundy. Joel held it up in the light that filtered through his window, turning it in circles to inspect for any blemish. When he was satisfied, he carried it carefully back to you. Despite himself, he could feel his brow draw up, his expression pleading, as he offered it again.

You gestured desultorily at the table beside you, and he set down the apple gently. You ignored it.

He was uncomfortably hard now, straining against the too-tight denim of his pants. You looked down at the thick shape of him, and raised a single eyebrow.

“I think you better take your clothes off, kitten. Before you make a mess of yourself.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

You watched as he unbuttoned and zipped down his fly, the relief washing over his face as his cock sprung free and bobbed up toward his stomach. You had to fight to keep your face impassive as you took in the sight— you were impressed by the sheer size of him, thick and long and richly veined. The swollen head was stained almost purple as the blood pulsed through him, slick from where he’d been weeping against his boxers.

You had a good feeling about this one. A very good feeling.

“All of your clothes.”

You waited, arms crossed over your chest in a posture of impatience, as he slid all the way out of his pants and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the curving planes of his muscles and the dusting of dark hair. A little soft right around his tummy and thick thighs, the perfect counterpoint to everything that was hard and rigid about him.

He saw how you were looking at him, and he moved toward you, desperation painting his face.

“Please, baby— I—I need you,” he stuttered, his dark eyes wide and desperate.

Your hand slapped across his face, hard and fast.

He stumbled backward, stunned momentarily as his hand flew up to cup his stinging cheek.

“Did I tell you you could speak?”

Part of him wanted to throw you against the wall, and part of him wanted to fall to his knees and beg your forgiveness. He felt his cock twitch, growing somehow even harder, a thick bead of precum oozing from the slit.

You watched him, smirking. “I think you liked that, didn’t you, boy?”

A hot blush seeped up his neck as you looked down at his needy cock. He knew you were right. If you kept slapping him like that, looking at him like that, talking to him like that— he’d come harder than he ever had in his life.

“Now,” you said, pointing down at the floor. “Kneel for me.”

Joel lowered himself to the hardwood floor, unconcerned with how his knees were going to feel tomorrow. He watched as you pulled the fabric of your skirt up around your waist, revealing a thin pair of cotton panties, sopping wet where the fabric ran between your legs.

“See what you can do for me when you’re a good boy?” You ran a finger up and down along the slick cloth, ghosting over the shape of your slit.

Then he watched, mesmerized, as you slid the underwear down your legs. Leaving your pussy bare, drenched, and just out of reach.

God, you were perfect.

His tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he stared at you, desperate for a taste.

You smiled. “It looks like you’re ready to serve me already. And you’re very, very lucky today. Because I’m going to let you eat me out, if you just ask nicely. Are you ready to ask nicely?”

He nodded eagerly. You noted with satisfaction that his face was loosening— the jaw no longer so tensed, the deep furrow between his brows softening. He was relinquishing himself to you, little by little. You reached down with one finger and tipped his chin upward, to look into your face.

“Okay, sweet boy. You can ask me now.”

“Please, please let me eat your pretty pussy,” he spoke, his voice hoarse with need. His eyes, looking up at you, were all pupil— hungry pools of black.

You nodded appreciatively, then you reached your hands around to the back of his head and pulled him into you. Your fingers threaded through the thick, salt-and-pepper curls, holding him tightly in place as he began to lick. His beard was scratchy against your sensitive skin, but his lips were surprisingly soft.

You gave him directions— how hard to suck against your swollen clit, how fast to draw his tongue through your folds— and tugged him by the hair to adjust his angle. You could feel the vibration of him whimpering against you.

“Good boy,” you cooed down at him. “Eating that pussy so good for me.” And he was, following your every instruction, responding to the subtlest tap and tug. Like he was born to do this. As you felt your orgasm building, you pressed him deeper against your core, squeezing him between your thighs. He was trapped, and clearly loving it. Below you, you could see the muscular swell of his ass, clenching as he thrust his hips up against nothing.

“That’s it, that’s it. Make Mama come like a good boy.” You pulled hard on his hair as you pressed your hips forward, toes curling, waves of pleasure crashing through you. He moaned just as loudly as you did, your cunt spasming against the press of his hot tongue.

You took your time catching your breath, still holding Joel by the hair. When you finally pulled him free of you, the sight was delicious. Skin blotched and red, your glistening juices smeared everywhere. Hair tousled and sticking out, breath coming fast and hard.

You smiled down at him.

“Don’t worry, pet. We’re not done yet. Now—” you pointed over at the unmade bed—“you’re gonna be my little toy. You’re gonna lie down over there and let me ride you.”

Joel felt a rush of relief at the thought of you finally touching his achy, leaking cock. He nodded up at you, rising to his feet. The sheets of the bed were cool and smooth against his flushed skin.

You took your time, sliding down off the table top and languidly stretching your arms out. Enjoying the way Joel looked lying there, waiting for you with his giant erection jutting up into the air. Finally, you made your way over to the mattress and climbed up on your knees, straddling him.

Your sweet cunt was hovering in the air, inches above the tip of his cock. You paused there, and smiled condescendingly down at him.

“Beg me for it, little boy.”

“Please, please, please.” The words spilled out of his lips, his voice cracked and shameless.

“Please what?”

“Please ride me. Please fuck yourself on my cock like it’s your little toy.”

You reached down and wrapped one hand around his thickness, the grip sending sparks through his body. Then you began to slide his head along your drenched lips, wetting it down. Instead of moving him toward your entrance, you guided the tip to nudge against your clit, and began to tap it against the swollen nub, again and again. His poor, sensitive cockhead was so engorged by now that it hurt, and he whimpered each time you pressed against him.

Then, finally, you slid him down to the hot, wet center of you. You drove your hips down, throwing your head back as you filled yourself with him. He could only fit halfway in your tight little pussy on that first downward thrust, and you whined as you reared up and down again, spearing yourself on his cock. He felt his thighs shaking as you pushed yourself further and further down, until finally he bottomed out inside you. You paused there, letting yourself settle around the heavy length of him.

And then— fuck— he felt that familiar warmth growing in his abdomen, his balls tightening upward. His face screwed up, as he tensed and fought to pull back from the edge.

“Oh, poor boy,” you said, smiling down at him as you began to move your hips in a slow, easy roll. “You’re trying so hard not to come, aren’t you?” The warm slide of your pussy was unbelievable, and Joel’s mind scrambled for something to distract him— think about work detail, plumbing repair, fucking baseball, anything.

“But you can’t hold back, can you? You’re not even gonna make it another minute in this tight little cunt, are you?” You were right. Of course you were right. He grabbed fistfuls of bedsheet in each hand, gripping as hard as he could, knuckles going white as he fought against his hips that wanted to thrust, thrust, thrust into you. He screwed his eyes shut tight.

His eyes flew back open as a spray of warm spit hit his face.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Your voice jolted through him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he moaned.

“Tell me you’re sorry for coming so fast, you filthy little boy.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I’m a filthy little boy and I’m going to come.” The words poured out of Joel, his hips bucking uncontrollably as the electric warmth spilled over. “I’m sorry Mama, I’m coming, I’m so sorry, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He began to shoot into you, spurt after helpless spurt, coming so hard he thought for a second he might pass out.

It was only when his cock and his hips finally stilled that he realized he was crying. Hot tears rolled down the sides of his face to pool against the sheets.

You leaned down, stroking your hand along his stubbled cheeks. “Shhh, shhh. It’s okay baby. Mama forgives you.” You slid yourself off his sticky, half-hard cock and moved forward, still straddling him. Your soft hands gently combed through his messy curls.

“Don’t worry, baby boy. You can clean up this mess and I’ll be good as new.” Your hips pushed forward, and you pulled one hand back to hold yourself open, showing Joel where his milky seed was dripping down between your folds.

He nodded, looking up at your encouraging smile. His tongue slipped out between his lips, and he took a first, tentative lick along your slit. The sweet tang of your slick mixed with his own bitter, salty spend.

“That’s a good boy. Clean it all up.” He lapped at you, gathering speed. His tongue pressed inside you, curling against your walls to release every last drop.

Finally, when you were satisfied he’d done his job, you pulled away. He released his mouth from you with a mournful groan, and you sat down against the head of his bed.

You looked him over from head to toe. He was a fucked out mess of a man. Flushed skin, limbs sprawling. Sticky cock still swollen against his thigh. Lips slick with his own come, and yours.

“Come here, sweet boy,” you murmured softly. You pulled his head into your lap, cradling him there as you gently petted him. “You did good. Close your eyes, Joel. I’ve got you.”

His eyes drifted shut, and in less than a minute he’d fallen asleep. Dark, deep, dreamless sleep— the best sleep he’d had in a long, long time.

When he woke up, it was morning and you were gone. On his table, you’d left the core of an apple, its sweetness slowly turning brown.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #sub!joel #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou smut #divider by cafekitsune

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sluttywoozi · 2 years

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Beautiful Day, Sunday Morning | sleepover fic #3

special thanks to my bestie @sluttywonwoo for this gorgeous banner!

Pairing: Joshua x fem!reader

Prompt: okay so sleeping it off didn't work. let me consult my list. hypnotism, no. meditation, certainly not. well something has to work because I simply cannot be in love with them + friends to lovers request

Rating: M (MINORS DNI I’LL SCREAM SO LOUD AND BLOCK YOU)

Word Count: ~7000 (im not well)

Warnings: food cooking and eating, alcohol drinking, hurt/comfort (just a tad its me lbr), presex communication, panty stuffing but not really (you’ll see), fingering, pussy eating, josh cums on you, joshua likes to look, mentions of marks/bruises, loving respectful manhandling, reader has a WAP, aftercare, none of these are in order, i wrote this for like 9 hours straight and haven’t edited it yet bc its four am soooooo sorry bout that, if i missed anything message or inbox me im nice i swear

half of this is just story with some suggestiveness, so if you're not into sex you can still enjoy! it's p obvious when the smut starts

Joshua sighs, finding himself laying awake in bed for the third night in a row.

He’s seriously starting to feel like he’s going crazy, and the sleep deprivation surely isn’t helping, but there’s just no way. He absolutely refuses to accept this.

He’s tried everything he could think of.

Sleeping it off didn’t work, obviously. He meditated with Hao for hours on end, with no result. He let Soonyoung try to hypnotize him but all he got from that was a headache and a bruise on the cheek where the stopwatch swung into his face.

Joshua won’t give up though, can’t give up, because this is life or death. Something has to work and Joshua is willing to try anything, well, almost anything, if it means what he fears will be proven false.

He simply cannot be in love with you. He just can’t.

Not when your friendship is the most valuable of them all, not when your presence is like a hot salted caramel mocha on a blisteringly cold morning, not when you’re the person he always looks forward to seeing, the person he dreads leaving for even a day.

Sure, he sometimes thinks about you late at night, when he’s alone in bed. Sure, he turns people down at bars his friends dragged him to for the sole purpose of getting him laid, just because he likes your voice and your face and your soul and your body better. Sure, he often dreams of you and wakes up feeling lonely, passing his hand over the empty side of the bed and wishing you were there. Sure, the side he leaves empty is coincidentally the same side he knows you sleep on, but that doesn’t mean-

Oh. Wait.

Joshua is totally in love with you.

Well, what the fuck is he supposed to do now?

He lets himself thrash in bed a bit, digging the back of his head into the pillow and tensing his jaw, then takes a deep breath, moving out of tantrum mode and into solution mode.

Okay.

Option 1: Joshua avoids you for a while and hopes the feelings go away on their own.

He shakes his head, knowing immediately that won’t work because if he doesn’t text you for a day, you’ll just text him, and if he doesn’t respond, you’ll call, and he’ll pick up, because it’s you.

And then he’ll hear your voice and you might sound sad that he didn’t text you back and then he’ll be sad, and guilty, and desperate to make it up to you. Which will lead to him making you dinner and probably pushing you up against the counter and kissing you until he forgets about the pasta on the stove and then it’ll boil over and just be a huge mess, and Joshua hates messes.

Option 2: Joshua doesn’t avoid you, and hopes the feelings go away on their own.

No, that won’t work either, because being around you is what gave him these feelings in the first place and being around you will just make them worse. He’ll be able to look at you and touch you and listen to you and you’ll smile at him and squeeze his hand like you always do, and marvel at the size of it compared to yours, and then Joshua will only be able to think about crawling on top of you on the couch and holding your hands down with his and they’ll look so small and you’ll-

Joshua clears his throat, shifting his legs in the sheets and willing his mind to settle down.

Option 3: Joshua doesn’t avoid you, and doesn’t hope the feelings go away.

This option is intriguing, because it means Joshua will still get to be around you and he won’t have to shove anything down, like he’s apparently been doing for… fuck, has he been in love with you this whole time? Has it been literal years??

Joshua shoots straight up in bed, bracing himself on his hands and blinking the drowsiness away. His brows furrow as he thinks over every moment he’s ever shared with you, every time he’s caught himself staring at your lips or holding your hand or getting jealous of a date or glaring at one of his friends for flirting with you. It’s been so obvious, and he had no clue.

Has it been this obvious to everyone?

Shit. Has it been this obvious to you?

Joshua needs a second opinion, and doesn’t think twice about grabbing his phone and calling for backup.

Jeonghan sounds irritated and exhausted when he picks up on the fifth ring, and Joshua sucks in a deep breath before starting, “Jeonghan, I need you to be honest with me, this is very important. Did you know I’m in love with y/n?”

“Yeah, Shua, we all knew.”

Joshua swears to himself, it’s just like he feared.

“And when you say ‘we all-’”

“No, y/n doesn’t know,” Jeonghan groans with exasperation, “but if you don’t say it soon, I will. It’s fucking annoying watching you guys moon over each other all the time. And don’t even get me started on-”

“Wait. Each other?” Joshua holds his breath as he waits for confirmation, “Jeonghan, I need clarification on the ‘each other’ part.”

Jeonghan heaves a sigh before answering, like he’s millimeters from hiring an assassin.

“Yes, Joshua, each other. I’m hanging up now.”

“Jeonghan wait-” Joshua tries to get out, but he hears the dial tone and checks his messages to see Jeonghan has put him on do not disturb. That was that then.

Okay, Joshua can deal with this. He can figure it out, Joshua is good at figuring things out.

He shakes his head and pushes a breath out before biting his lip to stop the smile.

Each other. He can work with that.

“Joshie!” You throw open the door, beaming and grabbing his hand to pull him inside you-r apartment! Inside your apartment.

Joshua dramatically rolls his eyes, hiding his grin behind a smirk, and sighs out, “Not this again…” as if he’s not giggling on the inside at the way you’re tugging him to the kitchen.

“Please, you love when I call you Joshie and we both know it,” you respond with playful eyes and your own smirk.

Fuck, he sucks in a breath, how did he deal with your teasing before figuring out he’s in love with you? Because now, it’s just making him ha-

“So, I was thinking we could try out a new pasta recipe I saw on Instagram, it has tomatoes and goat cheese and garlic, and I got a new puzzle!”

You sound so cute, so excited, that Josh has to clear his throat and try to blink away the hearts in his eyes before he can even think of what to say.

“That sounds great! I hope a red will go with it?” Josh holds up the wine bottle with a hand that shakes only a little, the other still caught in yours, and tries to stop his mind from going to the events of Option 1.

It’s difficult though, when he spots the exact pot he envisioned on the stove, already filled with salted water and waiting to be boiled.

You squeeze his hand before detaching to grab the bottle from him and throw it in the chiller, and Joshua respectfully (and frankly, for his own survival) looks away from how your jeans mold perfectly to the shape of your ass when you crouch down to find room.

He does well enough while you’re cooking together, moving around each other in a dance that evidences years of practice, getting distracted only when you lean up over his shoulder to monitor his garlic chopping. You’re very particular about how your garlic is cut, and it was only recently you began allowing him the responsibility.

Joshua can admit now how much it meant to him when you passed him the knife with a trusting smile and eyes that screamed, don’t fuck this up, just a few months ago.

Managing to finish the garlic preparation with relative ease, Joshua starts looking around for the recipe you were talking about. Normally, you print it out and put it up on your fridge but the stainless steel is empty, except for the magnetic photo of him and you he bought you last year. Well, him and you and all of your friends, not that he’s looking at any of them.

No, Joshua only has eyes for you, and they follow you as you flit around your kitchen, sunlight catching on your hair and cheekbones, your hips swaying softly to the music flowing from your sound bar.

He’s forgotten what he was looking for, and he’s forgotten to pretend he wasn’t drinking in your every move, because you turn around and stop short, eyes wide at finding him staring at you so intently.

“Do you need something?” You ask, brows tilting up in confusion.

Joshua breathes in deeply, catching your perfume on the air amidst the roasting tomatoes and fresh garlic, and he shakes his head with a soft smile.

“No, I have everything I need,” you start to look more bemused, like you’re trying to figure him out, and Joshua rushes to finish, “except the recipe! Where’d you put it?”

“Oh!” You jump, running to the couch to grab your phone and pull up Instagram, “It’s just a video, it seemed simple enough so I was doing it from memory but I should’ve sent it to you, my bad!”

Your brows furrow as you start typing in his new handle, and Joshua stills your fingers with his, deciding he can afford to be just a tad more bold.

“My phone’s almost dead, actually. Could we just share yours?” Joshua tries to ask innocently, masking his ulterior motive of getting to be closer to you.

“Yeah, of course! Do you wanna charge your phone? I can go plug it in,” you offer helpfully, gesturing over your shoulder to your bedroom, but Joshua shakes his head.

“Nah, the only person whose texts I care about is here,” he says smoothly, locking his eyes with yours and reminding himself that Jeonghan said each other.

You hold his gaze, something he doesn’t recognize flashing through your eyes and your mouth scrunching to the side, like it does when you’re… hurt. You visibly shake it off though, shake him off, pulling away and turning to set the pot of water to boil.

Joshua can’t fight the frown, feeling distance between you and him that normally isn’t there, but he lets you take your space and works on figuring out what he’s done wrong. He can barely hear the simmering of the tomatoes and goat cheese in the oven over the roaring in his ears, as he takes in your tense shoulders and stiff posture from the other side of the counter. When he sees your ribs expand and then hitch, like you were trying to gather yourself, he decides you’ve had enough space.

So Joshua crosses the kitchen, laying a gentle, warm hand on your shoulder, and tries peeking at your face. You’re not crying, thankfully, but he can see your teeth gnawing at your lip and the fragile set of your brows, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping you up tight in his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He breathes into your hair, tucking your head into his neck with the softest push he can manage.

Joshua waits as patiently as he can, but when the water comes to a boil and you still haven’t answered, he pulls away to add the penne and then leans against the counter, staring at you.

“Baby, please tell me what just happened. Did I say something wrong?” Joshua has called you baby since he met you, it’s just instinct by now, but it felt different now that he knows he’s in love with you. It felt… right.

But it just makes you tense up more, and now Joshua is more confused than ever. You’ve never cared about him calling you baby, you went with it from the start, and even started calling him Joshie in return.

“Shua… I just-”

“Joshie,” He interrupts, feeling his heart leap into his throat at the change in nickname. All of your friends call him Shua, you’re the only one he allows to call him Joshie, and he can’t stand hearing the alternative from you.

Joshua can feel his own brows pinching together, his arms coming up to cross over his chest, like that could protect him somehow.

You mirror him, bracing yourself against the stove before he lets a hand down to tug you away from the steaming pot of water, and he uses that hand to pull you closer, finding that he can’t make himself let go.

You’re staring at him now, and you seem to be considering something. He can tell by the set of your shoulders that you’re weighing things, and hears Jeonghan’s voice say each other in his head. And somehow, he knows that you and him are on the precipice of something.

Something great, Joshua hopes.

So he takes in another breath and takes a few short steps to stand in front of you, delicately framing your face in his hands and leaning in close. He stops just short of your lips, feeling the catch in your breath this time, and exhales against you, “Tell me to stop. Tell me this isn’t what you want.”

You don’t say anything, just stare deeply into his eyes, like you’re searching for something. You must find it, because you close the distance to press your lips against his, and Joshua feels something unlock in his chest and make extra space for you.

Joshua’s mind doesn’t wander too far, not with your mouth on his and your body heat against him, and he slides one hand into your hair. The other moves down to mold to your neck, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw before resting on your pulse. He can feel your heart racing, sprinting just like his, and he drinks you in, sipping from your lips like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had.

He gets carried away quickly, turning with you in his arms to push you against the counter, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, practically begging you to open up for him.

You do, with a sigh, and Joshua slips his tongue into your mouth to glide against yours. You taste… like nothing he’s ever had and he’s desperate for more already, tugging your mouth open further with a thumb on your chin. He licks into you, brushing up against your hard palate, sucking your tongue into his mouth, his moan vibrating against your lips. You swallow it, responding with a whimper, and Joshua’s hips kick into yours. He can feel himself getting harder, feel the heat gathering in his gut, and the hand in your hair drifts down to take your hip in a firm grip, kneading at your plush skin.

Joshua’s about to bring his other hand down and lift you up onto the countertop, dreaming already of spreading your thighs and grinding against you, pulling your jeans down, spreading you with his fingers and licking you open before slipping his cock inside where he just knows you’re wet and hot and soft and perfect, but you pull away.

You pull away, and Joshua tries desperately to follow you, but you breathe a laugh against his lips and push him from you with a hand to his chest.

He can feel his eyebrows furrowing, knows he’s panting and probably looking slightly undignified, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is why you stopped kissing him and how to get you to start kissing him again.

“Too fast?” He asks nervously, hands squeezing at your hips without his permission, and he consciously loosens his grip so you can fully pull away if you so choose.

“No, Joshie, you’re perfect, it’s just-” you pause to catch your breath. “The pasta��s about to boil over and the timer’s been going off for like three minutes.”

His head whips around, seeing your microwave beeping and the water jumping out of the pot, penne far too close to the surface for comfort. He moves with you in tandem, you turning the burner down and shutting off the timer, Joshua grabbing a colander from the cabinet and draining the pasta in the sink. Turning to toss you oven mitts right before you open the oven, he remembers his prediction of Option 1 and can’t hold in the laugh.

The sizzling of the olive oil and roasted tomatoes covers the chuckle escaping him, and Joshua moves behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and set his chin on your shoulder, smooching the side of your head. Your skilled hands mash the mixture together and pour in a bit of the pasta water he’d remembered to reserve (thank God), the sauce coming together quickly. He detaches from you only when you ask him to bring over the pasta, and he carefully tilts the penne into the dutch oven as you stir, the scent of garlic and goat cheese and robust San Marzanos filling the air.

Joshua had been so wrapped up in you, he didn’t even notice he was hungry, but as he feels his stomach growl, he still can’t say he cares much about eating right now. Food, that is.

You’re adorably excited though, beaming at him with bright eyes and spinning on your toes to retrieve the wine he brought, so he turns and lifts your favorite bowls down from the cabinet, grabbing two sets of silverware along the way. You meet him at your dining table, grinning and setting down the fresh grated parm, and Joshua can feel his throat close a little as he imagines doing this with you each and every night.

The pasta was delicious, recipe bookmarked in your phone and already sent to Mingyu and Seokmin, and he washes dishes with you side by side. The cleaning goes quickly, barring the wine glasses you’re both still drinking from, but Joshua plucks yours from your hand just before you pour another glass and backs you up against the sink.

“Joshua, we always finish the wine,” your tone and the use of his full name betrays your befuddlement, but he won’t be swayed.

“Baby,” Joshua pauses to follow the shiver that runs down your spine with his hand, gaze tinted with want and fondness, before continuing, “If we finish the wine, you’ll get tipsy. There are a lot of things I want to do to you tonight, and I can’t do 75% of them if you’re out of it.”

Your eyes grow wide, lashes fluttering, and you nibble at the inside of your lip. It’s a bad habit of yours, and you’ve complained to him before of the sore spots that result sometimes, so he takes the opportunity to smooth his thumb over your lip and gently tug it free. Leaning in to slide his tongue along the seam of your mouth, Joshua breathes softly against you and waits.

You huff, and surge forward to capture his lips with yours, your hands flying up to curl around his neck and pull him closer. Joshua giggles into your kiss, squeezing his hands around yours before moving them to your hips to haul you up against him so you can feel how hard he is for you, already. You press back, and his giggles melt into a groan at the feeling of your body against his. He’s wondering if you’ll let him fuck you on your counter, but you cook a lot and you’ll probably think it’s unsanitary. Joshua considers the dining table next, but doubts it’s sturdy enough for all of his plans, and the couch is just unacceptable, there’s not nearly enough room.

You make the decision for him, pushing against his hips with your own and sliding your hands in his hair to physically pull his lips from yours. He pouts, letting you tug him away but also letting his cock press against you when the pull makes his hips buck.

“Let’s go, then,” you whine urgently, trying to move forward, but the pressure’s made Joshua’s brain fuzzy and he has no clue what you’re talking about.

“Go where?” Joshua asks, panting against you before shaking his head in an attempt to clear it.

“Go to bed, babe, let’s go to the bed,” you set your hands on his chest and push insistently, and Joshua’s nothing if not a gentleman, so it takes little thought to let you guide him to your bedroom.

What his lady wants, his lady gets.

Joshua can’t take his eyes off you as you whip your shirt over your head and toss it at the chair in the corner, but he gets his ass in gear when he sees your hands slide down your body to unbutton your jeans. He’s thought too much about undressing you to let you do it yourself, and his hands pull yours up to his abs, using the distraction to undo your jeans and start tugging them down.

He’s not as sneaky as he thought though, and blushes at your knowing smirk as he presses a kiss to your belly. But Joshua gets you back, with his fingers sliding under both sides of your panties to pull them up tight against you.

You’re wet already and Joshua’s vision tunnels as he stares at the damp spot between your legs, your folds outlined by the fabric with how taut he’s holding it. You squirm, but he’s not done looking, and he soothes you with fingers petting gently at the soft skin of your hips, taking you in for a few more seconds.

Joshua doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable though, figures you might need some time to get used to him in this setting, and he knows there’ll be plenty of nights (and mornings and afternoons) for him to look his fill. So tonight, he lets go of your panties and rises to take his shirt off, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants to the floor. He can feel your eyes on him as he gathers up his clothes and your jeans, crossing the room to lay them on your chair before turning back to you with the corners of his lips quirked up.

He can sense your nervousness, and tries to figure out how to break the ice and remind you he’s your best friend. Smiling at you until his eyes squint, Joshua walks toward you slowly, then charges you when he’s a few feet away. You shriek and giggle when he leans down to wrap his arms around you and press the side of his face into your chest, tackling you onto your bed. Bouncing together, Joshua rolls until you’re sitting on him and he can feel your wet heat on his cock, seeping through his boxers and making his dick twitch. He swallows a groan, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but he gives that up when you start rolling your hips against his.

“Baby,” Joshua moans out, pulling your hips harder against his. “Tell me what you like?”

He sets up a steady grind as you think, feeling you get wetter and wetter against his dick, but he can tell you’re getting distracted by the friction, and he needs to know what’s okay and what’s not okay before he takes you any further.

So, Joshua stills your hips with a firm grip and says your name with all the sternness he can muster when you’re practically soaking through his boxers.

You pout at him guiltily, petting his pecs in apology, “I like not being in charge. I like when you grab me like that, and I liked when you threw me on the bed.”

Joshua can feel the heat rush through him at your candor, rewards you with minute thrusts of his hips against yours, and confirms, “You want me to manhandle you a bit? Tell you what to do?”

You sigh at the thought, sagging against him and Joshua sits up against the headboard so you can brace yourself on his chest without having to lean down so far.

“Yeah, Joshie, I want that,” you breathe against his lips before pulling him into a kiss, and he can tell you’re trying to distract him to get out of talking more, but he can’t make himself care.

“We’ll talk more about this later, yeah?” Joshua asks, but you both know it’s not a question.

You nod into the kiss, sucking his tongue and starting to buck against him in a cute, needy way, and Joshua can’t hold off any longer.

He holds you gently by the back of your neck, wrapping the other arm around your waist, and you get the memo to stop moving just before he starts rising up on his knees. He spreads his thighs underneath yours, shifting up so you tilt backwards onto the bed until he can hold himself above you, unwinding his arm from your waist to hold your jaw in one hand. He presses one last kiss to your plush lips before pulling away to stare down at you.

Your eyes are hazy, your breasts heaving, and Joshua can see the strain in your thighs from how his knees are holding them open, putting the wet patch on your panties on full display. He smirks, smoothing one hand down your body to slide his thumb down your cunt, feeling your folds part further under the pressure.

You’re so wet, the fabric is practically translucent, and Josh is hypnotized by the glimpse of your cunt. He shuffles down to get a closer look, palm flat to your sternum when you try to follow him, and he can’t resist sinking his middle finger into you as deep as your panties allow. The fabric gives easily, stretching and following his finger inside to the first knuckle. You’re tight, even just with this, and Joshua knows he’ll have to open you up if you want his cock, revels in it.

Withdrawing his finger, he watches your cunt clench around the bit of fabric that remains inside, groaning out loud when he pulls and it comes out of you even wetter. He’ll have to buy you new panties, and maybe some bras, perhaps a set or two, and probably matching couples pajam-

You squirm, and Joshua looks up to check in, relaxing when he sees you’re just desperate for more. He decides he’s tortured you enough for one night, yanking your panties down, tossing them off the bed, and leaning in close to get his first look at your bare pussy.

You’re glistening, hips shifting against the sheets in anticipation, and Joshua’s already thrown one leg over his shoulder before he asks, “Can I eat you out?”

You nod before he’s finished talking, but you should know by now that you’ll have to tell him, so he just stares, flicking his eyes between yours and your pussy.

Your eyes roll skyward in embarrassment and agitation, the back of your head pushing into your pillow, and you force out, “Yes, you can, please do.”

“That’s all you had to say, baby,” Joshua responds, a touch condescendingly and more than a touch smug, lifting your other thigh onto his shoulder and smoothing his hands around your hips to hold your pelvis down.

His first taste has him opening his mouth wider, wishing he could swallow you whole, but for now he’ll content himself with pushing his tongue as far inside you as it can go. You’re soft, and so hot, and soaking wet, and immediately Joshua knows he’d do this every day, if you’d let him. Wake you up with his head between your thighs and put you to bed with his tongue inside you, if he could. Live and breathe and die in your pussy, if you’d allow it. He thinks you just might, with the way you’re trying to buck up against his hands, your eyes closed and breathy whines escaping your open mouth.

In the future, Joshua will make you keep your eyes on him, but for now, he couldn’t care less. All he cares about is getting as much of you in his mouth as he can and making you cum on his tongue as soon as you can take it. He’s relentless, sucking your clit into his mouth, laving over it, pinching it between his lips, getting you wetter and wetter until you’re drenching his face and the sheets. You’re still trying to grind against him, which is cute, honestly, but Joshua’s not letting you move, not unless you tell him to stop.

He shifts to band one arm across your stomach, digging his fingers into the fleshy part of your hip, anchoring you to the bed, and brings his hand to your cunt to slide one finger inside. You’re not as tight as before, and Joshua sighs against you in relief before starting to nudge another finger at your entrance, looking up at you and waiting for the breathy yes yes yes to sink it in next to the first. His fingers are big, much thicker and longer than yours, and you take a second to adjust. You’re already squeezing at them though, pussy trying to suck them in deeper, so he follows until his knuckles brush against you, and curls his fingers up when he bottoms out.

(He’s a bit too deep to get at your g-spot, but you enjoy the motion nonetheless and open your mouth to beg for more right when Joshua suctions his plush lips around your clit again and you’re almost almost almost-)

“Fuck, Joshie, please! Please, please, please I’m right there,” you whine, hands flying down to push his head into you, fingers tangling in his hair, and Joshua has to press his hips into the bed to get his cock to stop jumping. He knows he’s leaking precum, will have to change the sheets after he gets you in the bath, but you’re just so fucking hot, he can’t help it.

He does want to make you cum though, needs to, so he starts spreading his fingers, opening you up for a third, and sucks harder at your clit until you break, back arching, mouth open in a silent scream. He keeps going, fucking his fingers in and out of your sopping wet pussy and tonguing your clit in pulses, until you push his head again, away from you this time.

Joshua releases your clit from his mouth but keeps his fingers inside, spreading them wider against your throbbing walls, and asks, “Wanna go again?”

You stare at him with wet lashes, your breasts rising and falling with your breaths, and he’s almost distracted enough to move up your body and suck your nipples into his mouth, wonders if he can get both at once if he pushes your tits together enough, thinks about digging his fingers into the plushness, thinks about the bruises he could nip into them, but you respond and pull him from his thoughts.

“I think it might kill me, but yes,” you exhale, sounding tired but so needy still and Joshua loves you, he loves you so much, and he really hopes you don’t notice when he spells it on your clit with his tongue, followed by his name, then yours with Hong tacked onto the end. He doesn’t think you do, because you’re moaning, near crying with pleasure, and he hasn’t even started moving his fingers again yet.

Which he rectifies immediately, pushing them into you with more force this time, spreading you open and shoving his tongue inside to lick at your walls. The hand grasping your hip shifts, fingers moving to press down on your clit, rubbing small, quick circles. Your wetness is seeping out around his fingers, dripping into his mouth and down his chin onto the bed, and he knows he needs to make you cum soon if he doesn’t want to push you into the unpleasant kind of overstimulation.

He pulls his hand out slightly, and you cry out at the loss, trying to buck your hips up and get him deep again, until he finds your g-spot and grinds into it with the tips of his fingers. Hooking his digits inside of you, Joshua rubs incessantly at the rough patch, fucking into you and suctioning his lips around your clit until you clench so tight he doesn’t bother moving them, until you break apart with a wail. You gush, wetness flooding out and soaking the lower half of his face, and Joshua feels his eyes fluttering shut as he drinks you in.

Your thighs shake on his shoulders, your stomach trembling as you try to get air into your lungs, and his tongue laps at your clit until you push his head away again, for good this time. Joshua doesn’t go far, still breathing you in and feeling your cunt throb around his fingers.

Your hand pets at his head before it slips from his hair, flopping down onto the bed as your eyes close heavily. You’re not asleep, and you haven’t passed out (he thinks), so he just lets you catch your breath and wipes his face off with one hand, pulling the other from you slowly before shifting your thighs off his shoulders and sitting up on his knees between your splayed legs.

Joshua wants to put his hands on you, smooth them up your body to squeeze your tits then cradle your face, but he has other plans for the slickness leftover on his palms.

He tugs his boxers down with a pinky, cock bobbing out, and waits for your eyes to open before saying softly, “Baby, I’m not fucking you tonight,” you shoot him a sleepy frown, bottom lip pushing out just a bit before he continues. “But can I cum on your pussy? I’ll rinse you off and run a bath after.”

Your pupils get even bigger, nearly blocking out the color of your irises, and you smile serenely at him with bleary eyes, wrapping your hands underneath your thighs and pulling them up so you’re spread open for him.

Fuck, Joshua’s so fucking gone for you.

He can feel more precum seeping out of the head of his cock, feel how his boxers stick to his thighs from a combination of you and him, and he can feel the shudder roll all the way from his scalp to his toes at the first touch of his hand on his cock. His palm is slick, wet with you, and he stops himself from dipping back into your pussy for more, knowing you’re sensitive.

You’ve given Joshua more than enough to work with anyway, more than he used to get on those lonely nights where all he had was the thought of you, and as he takes in your still fluttering cunt, takes in the fuckdrunk look on your face, takes in the scent of your pussy on the air, he already knows he’s close.

His body doesn’t know yet, but it’s catching up quick. His stomach is tensing, his chest rapidly expanding with his panting, his balls tightening more and more the longer he gazes at you. Joshua can’t contain his sounds, lets the grunts and groans fall into the air, whining your name when he glides one palm over the head of his cock and squeezes down at the base with the other. He just needs a little bit more, just a li-

“Cum, Joshie, please cum, I wanna feel it,” you ask sweetly, urgently, and he swears, feeling his cock jump in his hands as hot cum spills out, painting your pussy white and dribbling down your folds. His hearing goes fuzzy, white noise filling his mind, and he clenches his eyes shut, cumming harder than he has in… years?

Joshua opens his eyes to see your entrance clench, tightening around nothing, and he barely resists the urge to drop back down onto his stomach and push his cum inside of you, fuck it into your cunt with his fingers and then fuck it deeper with his dick, stay buried in you until he’s hard and do it all over again.

But you’re tired, and he’s tired, and he catches your wince when you let your thighs down.

Joshua reaches over to snag a tissue from the box you keep next to your bed, and wipes his hands off before smoothing them up your thighs to knead at where your pelvis connects with your femurs. You had your legs open for a while, then up, and he doesn’t want you to be sore tomorrow, so he pulls back, lifting you into his arms and carrying you into the bathroom. He sets you down on the counter, starting the shower and wiping your pussy off gently with a damp washcloth before handing you a clip so you can get your hair out of the way.

“Can we take a bath tomorrow? I just wanna snuggle and go to bed,” you request, voice thick with sleep and raspy from the orgasms, and Joshua feels his heart swell. His teeth poke out of the smile he shines at you, and he gathers you up into a hug, rubbing your back and picking you up off the counter to walk you into the shower. He can feel your breath leave you in a contented sigh, and you lean your head against his chest as he spreads suds up your back, his hands drifting over your skin gently and massaging out any knots he finds.

You’re dozing against him when he drops to his knees to wash your lower half so he leans you against the shower wall, keeping one hand on your hip to make sure you don’t fall over. Making quick work of himself, Joshua shuts off the shower and wraps you up in a towel, patting his hands over your limbs to dry you off as much as he can. You’re a bit more awake now that you’re out of the heat of the water, and he dries himself off roughly before helping you tug your robe on and ushering your slightly shivering form into your bedroom. You’re walking fine, but Joshua keeps his hands on you anyway, doesn’t see a reason not to, and tries to pretend he’s not giddy at the thought of picking out your pajamas and falling asleep next to you.

He escorts you to the bench at the end of your bed, makes sure you’re sitting securely, and turns to your dresser to get something for you to sleep in.

“Just gimme your shirt,” you mumble, leaning back against your bed and pulling your knees to your chest, and Joshua short circuits for a second, imagining you in his clothes. It’s time to sleep, he chides himself, when he feels the blood rushing down to his dick, and speeds over to grab his tee from the chair. It’s huge on him, and he knows you’ll look adorable in it even before he tugs it over your head, and fuck, does he love being right.

He questions you about undies and follows your finger to the top drawer, pulling out the first pair his fingers touch so he doesn’t linger, and guides them up your legs. You stand and pull them the rest of the way on yourself, before climbing right up onto your bed and holding a hand out.

Joshua tries his best to keep his cool, but he’s just a little too excited to burrow under the covers with you, and your body rolls towards him when he hops into the bed. He pretends he planned it though, pretends he was continuing his bit from earlier, when he bodychecked you into the mattress, and he’s pretty sure he’s gotten away with it until you giggle and tap his nose.

He scoffs into the space between him and you, then pulls you closer until there’s none left, dropping a kiss on each of your cheeks, laying one on your forehead, and gently pressing his lips to yours as his final goodnight kiss.

“Oh!,” Joshua remembers, shifting up onto an elbow to stare down at you, “And in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m deeply, madly, embarrassingly in love with you.”

You blink up at him with exhausted eyes, smiling and placing a palm on his cheek to pull him down into one more kiss, before winking at him and whispering, “Same.”

You’re asleep before Joshua’s gotten over his disbelief, but he just grins, realizing it’s Saturday, and he’ll get to wake you up with his favorite song, crooned directly into your ear.

AN: im too sleepy to do a real an rn but whoever requested this ily so much and to all of my followers ily so much too and i'll see you tomorrow muah

tagging: @lenireads @confusedbansheee @junhui-recs @burningupp-replies @heeseung-lover686 @favehoshiposts @gyvswhore @jaysawake (unable to tag) @1004luvangel @bangchanbabygirlx @baldi-2 (unable to tag) @monamonay @dontyouthinkiknowwhoiam @just-here-to-read-01 @gaebestie

find my masterlist here

okay im gonna go to bed bye

#joshua smut #joshua x you #joshua x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen #✨emily writes✨#emily feels like she's going insane #emily is very tired #emily has hurt her own feelings #seventeen x you #✨emily's sleepover✨

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masuchu · 2 years

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↻ MORNINGS WITH HIM ?!

pairing. dazai x reader, chuuya x reader, kunikida x reader

warnings. none, fluff

a/n. wrote this at like 2am , hence how small it is aha,, i like it anyways tho :b

dazai —

dazai loves being in bed with you, not even in a sexual way, (though, he loves that too.) mornings with dazai are soft, warm and lazy. you’ll wake up (nine times out of ten, before him) with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his chest pressed against your back, getting as close to you as possible. it’s nice to just bask in the feeling of each other for while, in a tired state of half awake/half asleep, putting your hands over his and pulling him closer (if that’s even possible). you’ll know when he wakes up, because he’ll shuffle around a bit and begin to press small kisses to your neck, chuckling softly when you whine and tell him it tickles. if you try and make a start to your day, getting up to make you both breakfast, he’ll pout and pull you back down to him, complaining about how he rarely gets days off and how you should both sleep all day. and to be honest, you do like the sound of that. maybe you’ll get up in an hour or so, but for now, some more sleep won’t hurt you..

chuuya —

mornings with chuuya are calm, lively and loving. he usually wakes up before you, it’s out of habit, he’s used to early mornings and lates nights at the base. he really savours his time with you when he can, he’ll run his hand softly over your cheek, laughing lightly when you press into him in your sleep. if your fast asleep, he’ll slowly inch of bed and make his way to the kitchen, making breakfast for the both of you (but always making your favourite things, even if he doesn’t like them.) maybe the sizzling of the pan will wake you up, a little disappointed at the lack of your lover, but mouth watering at the smell of warm pancakes and newly cooked food. laughing at the sight of him in your pink frilly apron, you’ll hug him from behind and tell him to come back to bed. he’ll smile softly, turning around to hug you back, stroking your hair and saying ‘i’ll come back with food in a few minutes, how about you go and wait for me, hm?’ you can’t say that doesn’t sound good, so you’ll wait for him, curled up in blankets. he’ll chuckle as he walks in, sitting down next to you and telling you to open up, say ahh. the rest of your morning will be spent feeding each other, wiping honey of your faces and sharing strawberry filled kisses <3

kunikida —

kunikida takes pride in his carefully thought out routines and life guides, his mornings always included waking up early, working and writing. that was, until he met you. mornings with him are teasing, lively and filled with guilty pleasures. he’d still wake up early, maybe 6 am, it’s natural for him now. he’d try and get up, but with your arms clinging onto him and your chin hooked over his shoulder, it makes it quite hard. so he’ll sit there, debating wether to wake you up, move you or indulge in a few more hours sleep (something so unfamiliar to him that he’s overthinking it already.) he’ll settle for just waiting for you to wake up, which he’ll find out, was probably a bad idea. when you finally wake up, he’ll cup your cheek and say please let me up, love. you’ll pout and whine, telling him a few more minutes won’t hurt, pleaaaase? and he just can’t say no when you give him that face, as much as his brain is telling him too. those few minutes turn into an hour and he’s given up on work, in fact, he’s completely forgotten about it. all he focusing on is you, how you laugh at his grumpy face and kiss his nose when he looks away, the way your face lights up when he agrees to take the day off.. he’s really changed because of you. for the better? he’ll never tell, but if it’s for you, then he’d like to say it’s for a good cause (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

1K notes · View notes

1104-am · 11 months

Text

winter | priority

genre ; angst , fluff

pairings ; idol!winter x reader

notes ; wrote this while listening to priority 🥹

word count ; 2.5k

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

as you arrive home late at night, the dimly lit house greets you with a quiet ambiance. the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint ticking of a clock on the wall serve as the only audible companions in the silent abode. the entrance hallway is adorned with scattered shoes and a jacket carelessly thrown over a chair, a testament to the haste with which you had left for work earlier that day.

as you make your way into the kitchen, your tired eyes land upon a sight that instantly tugs at your heartstrings. your girlfriend, winter, lies slumbering on the kitchen counter, her head resting on her folded arms. a small, half-empty plate of cooked food sits beside her, evidence of her efforts to prepare a meal for you. concern mixes with relief as you gently shake her shoulder to rouse her from her sleep.

"minjeong-ah," you whisper softly, trying not to startle her. "hey love, it's me. i’m home."

her eyes flutter open, and confusion quickly gives way to annoyance as she realizes the late hour and the fact that you've only just returned. her expression twists into a mixture of frustration and hurt, her brows furrowing and her lips pressing together tightly.

"what time is it?” she frowned, once she realizes what time it was. “why are you always late, y/n?" winter’s voice carries a hint of bitterness, as if the words have been rehearsed in her mind countless times before.

“i’m sorry, i had work. my boss—“

"it’s always work, work, work. the same bullshit over and over again"

the harsh tone startled you, you feel a pang of guilt tighten in your chest, realizing the strain your work schedule has placed on your relationship.

"i’m sorry, minjeong. but you know how demanding my job can be. i never meant to make you feel neglected" you responded trying to diffuse the tension.

she scoffs, her voice tinged with frustration. "sorry doesn't cut it anymore, y/n. i need more than just empty words. i need you to show me that i matter to you. make me your priority"

"but i’m doing all of this for us minjeong" you plead, your voice tinged with desperation. "i want to provide for our future. i want to give you the life we've always dreamed of. gosh.."

the room feels heavy with unspoken emotions as the argument escalates. the fatigue and stress of the day have fueled your own frustration, leading to a battle of words between you both. voice rise and emotions intensify.

her eyes well up with tears, her voice breaking as she replies, "what good is a future if we're miserable in the present? i need you here with me, y/n! i need your presence, your support. practices have been so hard nowadays and when i come home in hopes of talking to you, you’re always not here for me!” tears poured down her cheeks, as a feeling of guilt grows bigger.

as emotions run high, winter’s voice quivers with a mixture of pain and frustration. "i can't help but feel like I'm an afterthought in your life, y/n," she says, her words cutting through the air like a sharp blade. her eyes well up with tears, but she stands her ground, her voice determined.

taken aback by her statement, you feel a surge of offense rise within you. "what? how can you say that?!" you retort, your voice filled with a mixture of hurt and indignation. "you know how much you mean to me, minjeong. i’ve always tried to show you how important you are in my life and now you’re dismissing my feelings and efforts for you?"

her expression hardens, her anger fueling her words. "feelings and efforts? what good are they if they only come second to your work? i’ve been waiting for you night after night, feeling like a stranger in our own home. it’s not just about the grand gestures, y/n. it’s about the everyday moments that show me i matter to you!"

you clench your fists, the frustration and pain coursing through your veins. "i’m doing my best for the both of us! why does it seems like everything i do is not enough for you?”

her voice cracks, her tears flowing freely now. "It's not about the material things, y/n. it’s about your presence, your time, your effort to truly be here with me!”

the words hang heavily in the air, the weight of the argument sinking deeper into your hearts. hurtful remarks and accusations have become arrows, piercing the fragile bond you once shared. the pain is evident in both of your eyes, a reflection of the love that still resides beneath the surface, but now shrouded by a cloud of resentment and doubt.

in a moment of anger, you lash out, the hurt fueling your words. "you think i don't care? you think i don't prioritize you? maybe you're right. maybe i should stop trying so hard, since nothing i do seems to be enough for you!”

the tension reaches its boiling point as winter's anger overflows. with a mix of anguish and rage, she grabs a nearby plate and hurls it to the floor, shattering it into pieces. the sound of breaking ceramic echoes through the room, the shards of porcelain mirroring the shattered fragments of your once harmonious relationship.

silence descends upon you both, the anger dissipating as quickly as it had flared. winter’s eyes widen in shock at the destruction she's caused, her anger giving way to sorrow. tears streak down her cheeks, mirroring the brokenness of the plate at her feet.

in that moment, the weight of the argument settles heavily on your shoulders. you realize the depth of the pain you've inflicted on winter, the toll that your absence and prioritization of work have taken on your relationship. with a heavy heart, you step forward, about to hold her when suddenly you feel a strong force pushing you.

as winter pushes you away, her hands trembling with a mix of anger and regret, your foot inadvertently lands on a shard of the shattered plate. a sharp pain shoots through your body, causing you to wince and lose your balance.

“fuck!” you exclaimed. you manage to catch yourself against the kitchen counter, but the throbbing ache intensifies with each passing second.

winter’s eyes widen in shock as she witnesses the unintended consequence of her actions, her mouth agape in disbelief. however, the lingering anger prevents her from immediately expressing concern or checking on your well-being. instead, without a word, she turns away and retreats towards the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her, leaving you alone in the kitchen, nursing both your emotional and physical wounds.

a few minutes passed, the pain in your foot is a constant reminder of the fractured state of your relationship. as you gingerly make your way towards the pantry, your footsteps echo in the quiet house, filling the void left by winter's absence.

your retrieve a broom and a dustpan, your movements slow and pained, grunting here and there as you begin the task of cleaning up the broken shards scattered across the floor.

the sound of clinking porcelain and the sweep of the broom become the backdrop to the overwhelming ache in your heart. the realization sinks in that winter’s anger was so consuming that she didn't even pause to ask if you were okay, to show even the slightest concern for your well-being. and it hurt you.

once the task is complete, you make your way towards the bedroom, a mix of hope and trepidation swirling within you. as you approach the closed door, you take a deep breath and tried opening the door but as expected, the doorknob could only turn halfway indicating that the door’s locked

you sighed, and with a heavy heart and a limp from your injured foot, you resign yourself to spending the night alone in the living room. you gather a pillow and a thin blanket, the meager provisions for comfort, and settle yourself on the couch. the loneliness pervades the air, a tangible presence that exacerbates the pain both inside and outside your body.

as the night wears on, the weight of emotional turmoil finally gives way to exhaustion, and you drift into a restless sleep. however, the pain from your injured foot rouses you from your slumber in the wee hours of the night. blinking away the sleep, you find winter silently kneeling beside you, a first aid kit open on the coffee table, her gentle hands carefully cleaning the wound.

the dim light of a bedside lamp casts a soft glow on winter’s face, revealing the traces of sadness and concern etched upon her features. her eyes flicker with a mixture of regret and tenderness as she tends to your injury, her touch both gentle and deliberate. yet, despite her actions, the silence between you remains palpable, her lips sealed shut, as if the weight of her anger still weighs heavily upon her.

in all honesty, you’re still hurt at her words and how she didn’t even show the slightest concern when you injured yourself, "what are you doing" you slightly pulled your leg away from her, voice laced with hurt.

she kept silent, continues her ministrations, her gaze fixated on the task at hand, her silence a tangible barrier between you. your reach out, you held her arm preventing her from continuing.

"i’ll do it. just, go back to bed or whatever” you sighed. but the girl is very stubborn. and in a blink, your foot is already wrapped with bandage.

but still, she remains silent, the quiet treatment persisting like a heavy fog between you. her refusal to respond is a painful reminder of the rift that has grown between your hearts, deepening the ache in your chest.

as she finishes tending to your wound, she carefully stands up, her eyes avoiding yours as she gathers the first aid supplies. and without a word, she retreats back into the bedroom, leaving you alone once again, the lingering silence echoing in the room.

you lie there, your heart heavy with a sense of longing and confusion. the tenderness with which winter cared for your wound hints at a flicker of affection, yet her continued silence leaves you grasping at straws.

as the weight of the silence continues to press upon your heart, exhaustion finally overtakes you once more. sleep beckons, offering a temporary respite from the emotional turmoil that has consumed your thoughts. you eyes flutter closed, and you drift into a restless slumber.

but not long after, your eyelids flutter open once again, this time due to a different sensation. a heaviness rests upon your chest, causing you to shift and stir. with a slow and dazed awakening, you find winter nestled beside you, her head resting on your chest as she slumbers peacefully.

the room is shrouded in a gentle hush, the early morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow upon the scene before you. the rise and fall of winter’s breath against your chest creates a rhythmic melody, a reminder of the connection that still exists beneath the surface.

with a gentle touch, you run your fingers through winter's hair, relishing in the softness beneath your fingertips.

“i’m sorry” her voice startled you as you thought she was in a deep sleep. your hand stopped moving once you feel your shirt getting wet due to winter’s tears.

“i know you meant well, but my feelings got to me and i lashed it out on you when i shouldn’t have..” her voice was above whisper. you hummed, feeling guilty too because of what you said. both sides were hurt and it’s unfair if she’s the only one who apologizes so you did your part.

“i’m sorry too, i should have not make you feel that way.” you whispered.

as the air between you and winter becomes charged with a mix of forgiveness and longing, she lifts her gaze to meet yours. in that moment, an unspoken understanding passes between you, and without a word, she leans in, her lips gently brushing against yours.

the kiss is tender yet passionate, carrying with it the weight of an apology and a promise. it speaks volumes, conveying the depth of her remorse and her desire to make things right. the warmth of her touch against your lips ignites a flicker of hope within you, erasing the painful memories of the argument and replacing them with a renewed sense of connection.

her lips are soft and inviting, molding perfectly against yours as if they were made to fit together. the sensation sends an electric current through your body, causing your heart to race and your senses to heighten. there is an exquisite dance between her lips and yours, a rhythm that syncs effortlessly, drawing you closer and deepening the intimacy of the moment.

her mouth explores yours with a delicate and passionate fervor. her lips part slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss, and you respond eagerly, allowing the intensity to build. tongues intertwine in a sensual dance, their movements mirroring the love and longing that swirl within your souls.

each brush of her lips against yours is a tender caress, a gentle apology for the hurtful words that were exchanged. the taste of her lingers on your tongue, a bittersweet reminder of the pain and the love that coexist within your relationship. time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sweetness of the kiss, momentarily forgetting the outside world and the trials you have faced.

her hands find their way to your face, cupping your cheeks with a tenderness that speaks volumes. her touch is both gentle and possessive, a silent reassurance of her commitment and affection. the warmth of her touch seeps into your skin, melting away any lingering doubts or insecurities.

as the kiss deepens, the intensity grows, fueled by a mix of desire, forgiveness, and unspoken promises. the softness of her lips against yours gives way to a hunger, a primal need to connect and rediscover the passion that binds you together. your breaths become intertwined, ragged and needy, as you explore each other with a fervent desire, savoring the taste and texture of the kiss.

the world around you fades into the background, and it's just the two of you, lost in a sea of shared emotions and unspoken declarations. with each passing moment, the kiss becomes a language of its own, a symphony of longing and healing, carrying with it the power to mend the broken pieces of your hearts.

as the kiss eventually comes to an end, she pulls back slightly, her eyes searching yours for any signs of hesitation or doubt. but what she finds is a reflection of the love and forgiveness that fills her own heart. with a soft smile, she rests her forehead against yours, their breaths mingling as they take a moment to savor the tenderness and vulnerability of the shared kiss.

"i'm sorry," she whispers, her voice filled with sincerity. "i love you, and i promise to do better."

you caress her cheek gently, your voice carrying reassurance and love. “i love you too,”

in that moment, the kiss becomes a turning point—a symbol of reconciliation and a renewed commitment to one another.

#aespa #aespa imagine #aespa imagines #aespa oneshot #aespa x reader #kpop angst #aespa winter #winter x reader #kim minjeong

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stellar-skyy · 5 months

Text

OH DEER — Cyno x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Cyno celebrates Christmas with the person he loves. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of eating/food, mentions of alcohol, kisses. iii. NOTES: Fluff, modern au, Tighnari, Collei, Kaveh, and Alhaitham make an appearance, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 2k words. iv. A/N: Written for Écrin de Littérature's Joyeux Noël event! I wrote this instead of doing my work :D This is my first time writing Cyno, so I apologise if this is ooc... I really want to write for him more :( psst... @ryuryuryuyurboat

By the time [Name] woke, it was late morning.

The rays of sunlight sifted through a crack in the blinds, shining a beam directly into their face. A displeased mumble escaped their lips, followed by a pinch between their brows, and then a hand thrown over their eyes in an attempt to block out the light. Their efforts were in vain, as the sun spilled further into their room and lit it up in a warm glow.

As the terrible ordeal of waking up settled over them, they slowly became aware of a warm, comfortable weight at their side. Cyno had shifted the blankets in his sleep and half-tossed them off the bed, but he seemed content throwing one arm across their chest and absorbing whatever body heat they gave off. At that time, he would have normally been awake for hours, but alas; the festive season seemed to have drained his energy.

They cracked their eyes open, brushing their hand over the tufts of hair across his forehead. He made a tiny noise, moving to press his face into their side.

"Cyno,” They whispered, patting his cheek lightly. He groaned. “I know you’re awake.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” A muffled grumble sounded from where his face was hidden against them.

A small smile tugged at the corner of their mouth. They let their hand fall to the top of his head, running their fingers through his long grey hair. “Good morning, Cyno.”

“G’morning,” he mumbled, his voice still husky with sleep. One crimson eye opened, then the other. “It’s Christmas, isn’t it? Is it snowing?”

They squint through the small crack of the window they can see. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Hmm… you’re right.” He blinked at the small sliver of light coming from between the blinds. “It looks more like rain, dear.”

A long silence fell between them.

“…Rain, dear? See, it sounds like reindeer, which is hilarious because—”

“I got it,” They interrupt before he can go on a tangent about exactly how his joke was funny. The rest of the blankets fall off them as they swung their legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to go make breakfast.”

“Wait.” He abruptly sat upright, a solemn look on his face. After a pause, he leaned over and kissed their cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

Breakfast was simple ordeal. There was Cyno’s coffee, that they left on the counter for when he made the effort of moving to the kitchen. A few slices of toast, and some cooked eggs. They would need to put some food in the oven so it would be fresh by the time they had Christmas lunch, but most of the food was already prepared.

Halfway through, Cyno managed to drag himself out of the bedroom and slump over the kitchen counter, lazily reciting as many Christmas jokes as he could recall, while his partner debated throwing a slice of toast at his face to get him to shut up.

After, came the most anticipated part of the morning; presents. The two retreated to the living room, settling cross legged across the carpet floor.

It was a new house, primed and ready for new memories to decorate the halls. Moving in late December had allowed them an excuse to buy the essentials for their home disguised under bright red wrapping paper, hastily shoved under a simple tree. The tree itself was modestly decorated with whatever they could find, and the presents underneath few and far between. Nothing too special, just enough to fit into the corner of their new household, leaving more than enough room to grow into.

Two stockings dangling above the fireplace held the most ‘gift-like’ of gifts. A 1000 silly Christmas jokes book for Cyno, a box of candies for them, two matching pairs of socks with silly puns on them.

Torn up and crumpled wrapping paper decorated the floor of the living room by the time they had finished, Cyno already flipping through the pages of his new book in an effort to find even more of the worst of the worst puns to torment—ahem, entertain them with.

It was almost dizzying, how quickly they went from two strangers meeting by chance, to celebrating Christmas together in their shared home. Something could be said about the domesticity of it all, about the peppered kisses and lingering touches between measuring ingredients in a kitchen just the right size for two. How stolen glances became stolen kisses and making small talk turned to making cookies together.

There was something about the thought that made them feel so warm. Must be the spirit of the season, and all that.

“Do you know what Rudolph said, after Santa Claus tripped over in front of him?” Cyno asked. [Name] paused, hands hovering over the cooking dough spread out across the bench. Cyno stared back at them seriously, with an expression that would be vaguely intimidating if he wasn’t sitting idly on a kitchen bench with his legs dangling over the side.

“Cyno…” They breathed, warning in their tone.

“He said, ‘Oh deer.’” Cyno was silent for a beat, before leaning forward slightly. “Do you get it? See, this joke uses the phrase ‘Oh dear’, which would be an acceptable response to seeing a person fall, however it is also phonetically similar to the word ‘deer’, which is the species Rudolph is.” He paused again. “Do you get it?”

“Yes, I got it,” They groaned, rubbing the bridge of their nose to try and ward off an incoming headache. Unfortunately, they had forgotten they were still baking, and the action inadvertently led to a smudge of sugar being wiped onto their face.

Cyno huffed a laugh, jumping off the edge of the bench. As he stepped across the kitchen to meet them, he cupped their face, bringing it further towards his until he was close enough to kiss the spot between their eyes. He pulled away, licking the sugar off his lips with a slight smile.

“You could’ve just wiped it off,” They chide, but there’s a smile at the edges of their lips.

“Maybe,” He agreed, this time kissing their forehead.

Their smile widened at the gesture, even as they pushed on his chest to get him out of the way. He let himself be moved backwards, settling against the counter so he was out of their space.

“Move, I need to finish these before they arrive.”

The cookies were one of the few things that slipped their mind the day before, leaving them less than an hour to finish making the dough and put them in the oven before their friends arrived.

Wordlessly, Cyno took one of the cookie cutters and pushed them down onto the flattened dough. Together the two of them worked, until the tray was covered in tiny gingerbread men and stars and Christmas trees. Cyno opened the oven, allowing them to place it on the rack.

As soon as they pulled the oven mitts off, an arm slid around their waist. In a second, they were spun around and a breath away from Cyno. They laughed, in between kisses peppered across their lips.

“Do you know what the moose said to it’s family on Christmas Day?” Cyno murmured into their mouth. “Merry—”

A knock from the door startled them both. Cyno glared at it, unhappily detangling himself from them and opening the door.

“We’re here!” Tighnari said as he entered, letting Collei duck under his arm to bustle into the room.

“As the salt and pepper would say, Seasonings Greetings,” Cyno nodded in acknowledgement at the pair. “Do you understand the joke?”

Tighnari groaned loudly. “We just got here, Cyno. Couldn’t you have waited five minutes? Or several hours, maybe?”

“Merry Christmas to you both,” [Name] smiled painfully. “He’s been like this all morning.”

“Hi [Name]!” Collei said cheerfully. Her bright red skirt swished and twirled as she moved around the room, matching the lopsided Santa hat perched on top of her and Tighnari’s heads. Tighnari was dressed just as festive, in a comfortable looking red sweater.

“Hello [Name],” Tighnari raised an eyebrow, smirking at their outfits. “Nice sweater.”

“I didn’t choose them,” [Name] sighed.

Cyno had practically insisted on the matching ugly sweaters. They lived up to their names, the designs were hideous: clashing deep reds and muted greens, striped patterns all up the arms and a gaudy snowman print across the front. His only response to their complaints was that ‘they’re supposed to be ugly, that's the point!’

“They’re in the spirit of the season,” Cyno said stubbornly. Tighnari held up his hands in mock surrender.

“I wasn’t insulting them. They’re… merry.”

Cyno’s vehement defence of the dreadful sweaters was prevented by another knock at the door. Tighnari reached over to turn the handle, right as the door swung open.

“Merry Christmas to you all!” Kaveh declared. Like Tighnari, he was also wearing a sweater, but his was a deep green and covered in spiralling patterns. “I would apologise for our lateness, but it wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh please,” Alhaitham scoffed, trailing in after Kaveh. “If you didn’t spend an hour trying to style your hair, we would have been here ages ago.”

“You—It wasn’t me who decided to wait until five minutes before we agreed to leave to get dressed! You have the time-management skills of a three-toed sloth!”

“I simply don’t concern myself with vanity. There is no need to spend hours on my hair, or try and find the perfect outfit… unlike some people.” It was fitting, then, that Alhaitham was the only one in the room without any sort of Christmas themed clothing.

“Maybe it is because I actually have the effort to care about my appearance, instead of looking like I just got out of bed without brushing my hair!” Kaveh paused, squinting at Alhaitham. “Did you brush your hair this morning?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, when yours took an hour to look just as messy as it did when you woke up.”

“How—”

“Not to interrupt this lover’s spat,” Tighnari interrupted. “But if we want to have lunch anytime in the next several hours, we should probably start soon.”

“We brought pita pockets!” Collei held up a box with a grin.

“Ah, I’m afraid I didn’t have time to cook this morning,” Kaveh sighed, resolutely ignoring Alhaitham’s rolled eyes. “But I did bring a bottle of wine.” He glanced over at Collei. “Um. I am assuming you have non-alcoholic options as well.”

Cyno beckoned them over to the table, moving around the plates to make room for Collei’s pita pockets and Kaveh’s wine. Kaveh and Alhaitham sat down first, opposite each other so they could finish their argument face-to-face. Tighnari was next, and Collei followed, sitting in the seats at the end. Finally, Cyno slipped into the seat beside his partner, giving their hand a quick squeeze.

There was something so perfect about the moment, Kaveh and Alhaitham bickering across the table, while Tighnari rolled his eyes at Cyno’s jokes, and Collei sneakily took another bread roll off his plate while he was distracted. It was the kind of moment they wished they could freeze in time and seal up into a snow globe to display on their nightstand, so they could pick it up and admire the scene within whenever they liked. To spend such a special time, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of the people they loved the most, was truly a gift in itself.

“You should really try to be more like the Christmas tree, Tighnari—and lighten up.”

“Cyno, I will leave, and it will be your fault!”

Yes, perfect indeed.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #🎄— joyeux noël: 2023 #favoniuslibrary #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #cyno x reader #genshin cyno x reader #cyno x gn reader #cyno x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader

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emmarobertsslut · 11 months

Note

Can you make a hurt-comfort Madison Montgomery x fem reader fan fic? Im really sorry im not sure if you’ve wrote one already

You’re perfect the way you are

Madison Montgomery x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/insecurities

Request: Yes and No

Summary: After a rude comment from Queenie about the relationship between you and Madison, she brings down the blonde and make her feel like she truly isn’t good enough for you.

You were out grocery shopping with Cordelia, Zoe and Nan. It was around noon and Madison was by herself until you got back.

Madison curses herself for not going with you, because now she has to spend her time with her coven frenemy.

So, she walks towards the couch and snags the remote out of Queenie’s hand before sitting down. Changing the chanel because who’d wanna watch cooking shows at this hour.

“Hey! I was watching that.” Queenie snaps, already fed up with the blonde’s behavior. “Too bad, bitch. You should be thanking me, staring at the food on the television will only make you even more hungrier than usual.” Madison smirks as Queenie glares at her.

“You’re such a little bitch, Montgomery. How (Y/n), a kind soul, dates someone like you will forever be a mystery to this coven.” Madison frowns, did anyone in the coven think that about your guy’s relationship?

Her hand clenches around the remote and hot tears form at the brim of her eyes, but she won’t let them fall. Not in front of her. She stands up and throws the remote at the wall, essentially breaking it in two pieces and storms out the room. Ignoring Queenie’s yells for her to come back and fix the remote.

Her hands grow shaky as she rushes to your room, tears running down her face, ruining her mascara in the process.

It wasn’t the first time Madison had heard a comment about you and her, yet every time somebody made a remark about Madison being a bitch it upset her.

She would do anything for you. Maybe she isn’t good enough for you, she can’t help but think that Queenie is right.

She throws on one of your pink sweatshirts and slams the door shut with her magic, also locking it. Madison curls up into your bed and cries. Wishing for you to get back already.

About half an hour passed by and you, Cordelia, Zoe and Nan are back from shopping. You quickly help them put away the groceries and make your way around the house, looking for your beautiful girlfriend.

When you step into the sitting area, Queenie has an angry look on her face, playing any game on her phone that she can find interesting.

You step over the broken remote and talk to Queenie, “What happened?” Queenie scoffs, “Your stupid girlfriend happened. Walked down stairs snatched the remote out of my hand, handed me some insults, then got all pissy when I brought up how you are sweet and she isn’t. Threw the remote at me and ran.”

You narrow your eyes at Queenie. You knew how sensitive Madison was when other people talked about the obvious differences in your relationship.

Making your way upstairs, you knock on your door, “Madison. It’s me. Open the door.” You wait a few seconds, before Madison unlocks the door.

She doesn’t even bother glancing at you. You take in her appearance, Messed up makeup, puffy eyes and she’s wearing your sweatshirt. A sign of comfort.

“Oh Madi.” You mutter, laying underneath the covers with her. Facing your body towards her, she reluctantly turns towards you.

“You know, who cares if Queenie or Zoe or anyone really, has something to say about our relationship. In the end, we get to decide what’s best for us.” You brush some of her blond hair and tuck it behind her ear.

She smiles slightly and nods, “I just want to be the best version of myself for you. I get I can be bitchy, but I try.”

You kiss her lips, shortly. “I love you Madison. With your attitude, with your imperfections. I don’t want them. Only you.” Her once small smile turns into a bigger one, she cups your face and gives you little kisses all over.

“I love you so much (Y/n). I’d die for you.” She pulls you closer and rests her head on your chest, listening to your heart beating slowly. You continuously brush her hair softly with your fingers.

You both relish in the beautiful moment.

#madison montgomery x reader #madison montgomery #ahs fandom #ahs apocolaypse #ahs coven #emma roberts #emma roberts x reader #american horror story #american horror coven #american horror apocalypse

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hockeyisit · 6 months

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Halloweeennnn

Hi everyone! It's been a long long long time. I have been looking at my account and have been feeling inspired. Here's a halloween story I just wrote. Absolutely no editing done to this so for any mistakes I apologize.

“Papi, please take us trick or treating tonight,”

I let out a sigh as I clicked my phone off. I had been scrolling through different costume ideas for the last hour and a half as I waited for Auston to arrive home from his game. The twins were in bed hopefully asleep as it was pretty late. Auston’s game had ended only twenty minutes ago. I tough loss that I knew would probably upset him.

Halloween was just around the corner and they had many different ideas of what they wanted to be. At four years old they had a different idea every time we talked about it. The hockey party was coming up. I had already gotten Auston and I costumes for the adult party but was at a loss for what to get for the family party.

I stretched out on the couch as I pulled the laptop on the table to me. I was looking for superhero costumes. Kai had mentioned wanting to be Captain America. Noah had been leaning towards Spiderman. I had no idea what I would do for Auston and my costume.

Felix let out a bark as he sat up from his place on the floor. The garage door opened and in walked Auston. Felix immediately hopped up and went to greet him. I slipped the laptop off my lap as I watched the two.

“Hey babe,” Auston said as he took his shoes off. He made his way over to me and pressed kiss to my lips as he slipped into the seat next to me. He grabbed the laptop and let out a soft laugh.

“These costumes look fun,” he teased as he scrolled through them. I let out a groan as I relaxed back into the couch.

“Talk to your kids and find us a costume,” I told him. He let out a laugh as he closed the laptop. He wrapped his arm around me. I leaned into his touch leaning up for another kiss. His fingers slipped into my hair tugging slightly, causing me to let out a light moan.

“I will.” He said when he pulled back.

“Seriously because I don’t know what to do and the party is tomorrow. Aus, I dont remember the last time I procrastanted like this,” I said truthfully. The party had me completely stressed, with the boys indecisiveness and Auston not helping.

“Okay, I’m sorry babe. I will talk to them tomorrow, I promise.”

I let out a deep sigh as I nodded my head. “I’m sorry about your game,” I said softly. Auston shrugged as he leaned into me again.

“It’s okay. Will get them next time, now lets go to bed.”

He nudged me up from the couch and together we went up to our room to get ready for bed.

—---

“Mama, I want scrambled eggs.”

“And I want bacon!!” Noah screamed.

“Okay coming right up,” I laughed as I grabbed the ingredients out of the fridge. Auston smirked as he pushed a cup of coffee towards me. I smiled gratefully as I took a sip.

It was early morning and a rare one where Auston didn’t have to go into practice until later. We were all in the kitchen preparing lunch. Noah and Kai were sat at the table coloring while Auston stood at the counter watching me and the kids. Music was playing softly as I cooked.

Auston walked up to me and pressed a quick kiss to my lips before sitting with the boys.

“Hey guys.” Both boys stopped their coloring to look at Auston. “So you know how we have to go to this party for Papi’s work?”

They both nodded their head. “Well we all need to come up with a halloween costume,” he continued.

“Can it be anything?” Noah asked.

“That’s a hard question to answer,” Auston mumbled causing me to let out a soft laugh. I had finished the food so I started setting it down on the table.

“Can we be our favorite breakfast foods?” Kai asked letting out a laugh as he reached for the eggs. I let out a loud laugh as I looked at him.

“What do you mean bud?” Auston asked reaching for the pancakes. I took another large sip of my coffee we waited for Kai to explain.

“Well I can be an egg, Noah can be bacon, Papi can be a pancake and Mama can be coffee.”

I let out another laugh as I set my cup down. I felt a little called out. Auston laughed as he finished putting his food on his plate.

“That’s a pretty funny idea bud.”

“Yes!! I want to be bacon!” Noah said excitedly.

—--

After that it was surprisingly easy to put the costumes together. When we showed up to the party everyone loved the costumes.

#hockey fanfiction #hockey imagine #nhl fic #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fic #auston matthews #austonmatthews

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jaesqueso · 1 year

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Golden Hour (m)

pairing: playboy!mark x female!reader

summary: you decide it’s your turn to have a slice of mark, but he’s the one who’s been cooking you up

word count: 2,075

warnings: teasing, oral sex, protected sex, some crack cause this is a mark fic after all

a/n: it’s been a long time coming but here it is! (I hope my mark era dies off a little bit now because I can’t take it anymore 🥵) I hope ya’ll enjoy it ❤

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

Your body sways to the music as sensually as you can. Between the sweaty bodies on the dance floor, you see him, surrounded by three girls that came out of nowhere. Cheeky smiles, fake laughs and not so innocent touches. You’re fuming, but you can’t blame them, Mark Lee knows what he’s got and has no plan to hide it. You can tell by those tight leather pants and half unbuttoned silk shirt showing a glimpse of his chest that has been teasing you all night.

From the moment he walked into the restaurant, half an hour late making everybody wait as usual, you knew tonight was the night you’d get your share of the playboy. As dinner went on you almost reconsidered your choice by watching him be so picky on the food and with the staff, like he is a chef himself. Hell, the boy couldn’t even cook an egg to save his life, for Gordon’s sake. Sometimes you don’t even know how you can be friends with someone like him, but somehow you try to remember the old days, before the lavish lifestyle, when he was just Dorky Markie.

When the party moved to the Golden Hour, the must luxurious club in town, you knew that’s where you’d make your move, but he sure isn’t making your life any easy. Clamming he needs him a “real freak tonight” and asking the ladies to wait for him as he steps inside, Mark hasn’t had one minute alone. But then the stars align and this one song starts playing.

Back in college, in a drunk game somebody ask him what was the hottest song to dance to and this one was it. Focusing your eyes on him, you start your one woman show, that you may or may not have rehearsed thousands of times in your room, lip syncing to every words like you wrote it yourself.

It takes him a while but he finally notices your impatient eyes and the way you move your hips. As if enchanted by your body, Mark leaves the girls rolling their eyes as he makes his way to you, quickly matching your moves. You dance as close to him as you can, guiding his hands to your sides where he takes opportunity to explore a little.

Turning around, you make sure your ass is glued to his crotch as you roll your hips. You can feel his heavy breathing on the crook of your neck, making you close your eyes with a smile as you feel yourself closer to your goal.

When the song changes into an equality sexy one, you wait to see if he moves on to another random girl, or girls, but to your surprise he doesn’t. His hands hold your body with desire, not showing any signs of letting go.

“I knew you’d eventually give in.” His lips gently touch your ear as he speaks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play innocent.

“Oh, we’re playing that game?” He chuckles. “Alright then.”

“I thought you already had company for tonight.” You nod at the girls who are clearly gossiping about you.

“Those those three?” He snorts, rolling his eyes. “They’re just an appetiser. When it’s all said and done, I want you.”

Quickly you turn around and look into his eyes. Is he serious or is this some sort or trick from the play book? His expression looks sincere, for a moment you see the sweet Mark you once met, the Mark you’ve been secretly crushing on all these years. For a moment you see the Mark you always wanted to kiss. So you do.

You’re not usually this forward but he definitely seems to like the sudden approach by the way his hands pull your waist to him, bodies impossible close as your mouths move in sync on a passionate intense kiss.

When you part, both of you are breathless, like you kissed for hours. Or maybe simply because you did something you both have been longing to do but too afraid to take the risk.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Mark suggests, clearly cooking something up.

“Really?” You hear it but you almost can’t believe it.

“Yeah. You see, I got a big… Hm…” Taking your hand, he places it right on the bulge growing on his pants. “I got a really big problem…”

“Oh my…” You gulp, it does seem like a huge problem. “I guess we better go fix it.”

“Good girl.” Rolling your eyes, you take his hand and lead him to the exit.

Once outside he’s quick to grab a cab to take you both to his place. You kind of feel bad for the driver that has to endure what’s happening in the back seat, but you can hardly keep your hands off of each other. The way to his apartment is equally troubled, but you don’t want to leave space for him to change his mind about what’s about to happen, now that you got a taste of him you just need more. But as you enter his place, you can’t help notice the peculiar decoration.

“I’m kind of obsessed with myself.” He smirks nodding at the several photoshoot posters of him on the walls.

“I can see that…” You cringe a little bit inside. “But how about we change the focus for tonight?”

Slowly you start to undo the dress you carefully choose for tonight. Blue, his favorite color. The thin fabric falls to your feet, leaving you bare in front of him. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Mark speechless, he always seems to have a smartass comeback to everything these days, but right now no words seem to come out of his mouth as he admires your body, jaw slightly hanging.

“What do you say, Mark?” You try to keep your cool, but suddenly wondering if you’re being too forward.

“I say…” His expression finally warms up back into a smirk. “Let the feast begin.”

Embraced again into a heated kiss, he lifts your body, that instantly wraps around his, and carries you to his bedroom. You get thrown into the mattress, landing perfectly in the middle, head on the pillows. Standing in the end of the bed, he licks his lips before diving into you.

A trail of kisses goes down from your lips down to your legs as his hands trace your curves. Gently he spreads your tights and lowers his face right in front of your throbbing core. Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself to feel his mouth on your wetness but nothing happens. Looking down you notice he has his eyes closed and hands together almost like he is… Praying?

“Mark?” You raise an eyebrow. “What are you-”

“You should always say grace before your meal.” He glances up at you with a smirk. “Bon appétit.”

His lips finally connect with your clit, licking and sucking like he hasn’t had a meal for days. Rolling your eyes, your hands grasp the sheets as moans fly out your mouth. His tongue traces intricate shapes between your folds making you lose your mind as you squirm in the sheets.

Holding your hips in place, Mark keeps devouring your pussy like he’s in a buffet. If only you’d known his head game was this strong, you would’ve made this happen a long time a go, he may be cocky but he sure knows what he’s doing.

When his fingers join the party, easily sliding inside your wet hole, you realise his mouth is not the only thing he’s remarkably skilled with. You wonder if he can fuck you as good as he can eat you out. But you don’t think about it for too long because with the way he massages just the right spot inside you along with the movements on your clit you don’t even sense your orgasm coming until you’re screaming his name.

After riding you off your high, he makes his way back up your body, mouths colliding with longing. Your hands wrap around his back and you notice he’s still fully clothed. Messily you ged rid of his shirt before your roll your bodies around, placing you on top of him.

“My turn.” You smirk as you take your time adorning his pecks and abs with kisses.

Slowly you undo his pants before your mouth reaches his happy trail. You miss calculated how hard it would be to get him out of those tight sexy pants, but after his help, in between laughs, he’s finally all in display.

You have no idea how the fabric didn’t give away trapping his big hard cock that stands tall in front of you, but you don’t really care about that now. Mark hisses when your tongue swipes on his tip, tasting the precum. Fuck, it’s delicious. He’s delicious.

Taking all of his length in your mouth, you almost choke once you reach the base, but the whiny sounds he makes give you strength to keep yourself together and start bobbing your head up and down.

Soon your throat gets used to the feeling of him and you fasten your pace on his dick. Your hands help out, one the base and another one showing his balls some love. Glancing up your delighted to see his face squirming in pleasure as his chest heaves.

You’re too enrolled on what your doing that you barely notice his hand tapping your shoulder to get you to stop. Releasing his dick with a pop, you look at him wondering if you’re doing something wrong.

“Come here.” He signals you to move up his body, which you quickly do. “I don’t want to cum in that pretty mouth of yours.”

“Why not?” You pout, making him smile.

“There’s somewhere else you’d rather cum in.” Grabbing your hips, he pulls you right on his lap, cock rubbing between your folds.

“Even better.” Smirking, you give him a sloppy desperate kiss as you start to align him with your entrance.

“Wait, wait.” Stopping you, Mark reaches his bedside table to pull out a condom. “I’ve been kind of a whore. Better safe than sorry.”

“You’re gross.” You roll your eyes. “But at least you’re responsible.”

Snatching the condom off his hands, you open it yourself and roll it down his length. Adjusting your position, you finally let yourself down on his cock, feeling every inch of him fill you up. Once you go all the way down, you both let out a shaky breath.

Steadily you start moving your hips. He watches your breasts bounce through half lidded eyes and you take his hands placing them on top of your mounds. Instantly he massages them as you ride him, moans and whines filling the air.

Mark starts to buck up against you and you know he must be getting close. You try to bounce faster but with another orgasm just around the corner your movements are sloppy and uneven.

Needing more, he suddenly sits up, making you fall back just a little as his arm wraps around your back. In this position, he’s able to control the speed, thrusting harder and faster, desperately chasing his high.

When he cums, you can sense the warmness inside you as his movements slow down. You slowly roll your body to ride off his high, thinking that even though you didn’t get a second go, this was still amazing. But apparently he was not finished.

You gasp when you feel Mark’s thumb on your clit moving in circles, his tired cock still buried inside you. Letting your head fall back, you mumble about how close you are, begging for him to keep going. And he does. Only stopping when your body starts trembling, making him hiss at the way you squeeze around his length.

Gently, he pulls your torso against him, holding your face in front of his to give you one final kiss before laying you both back down. With a sigh, you move out of his cock, sprawling your body next to his as you pant, mind hazy with pleasure.

“You know,” he takes off the condom, tying it up and throwing it away, “we live in a world that constantly tries to take you away from you. Everyone is being everyone but themselves. Here but not around. Wait, but what does that mean?”

“I have no fucking idea, Mark.”

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

taglist: @yokshi-unbeliebubble @nc-teen @yutahoes @dimplehyunn @iknowyuno @bebskyy @ne0cultur3technology @nurenciye @luvjeongjaehyun @nohyuckieduckie @booyouwhore17 @jenoxygen @jaehyunsprincess

unable to tag: @chenleyang @doahflix @criminalmindsz

#neohub #mark smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut

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sukunasdirtylaugh · 3 months

Text

a/n: based off of this piece I wrote literally like not even an hour ago I’m obsessed with these two. happy early Valentine’s Day to all 🤍

tags: gojo x f!reader, slowburn, reader is an older sister raising her brother and Satoru comes in, sort of like found family au, mentions of readers brother having an infection/going to the er and Satoru comforts reader, slight angst there but fluff at the end (inspired by this)

Satoru doesn’t know when it was he loved you.

He thinks maybe it was the time you answered one of his lonely late night calls. When the moon is faint and the silence too loud for his liking. the floor is too cold and he thinks he’s nothing but a man, with blankets that can’t give him the warmth he seeks. Only those but your words can warm a home, and when he finishes talking to you that night, he feels like maybe there is something to look forward to.

But that was before he met you, the real you in flesh and bone. He wasn’t blessed hearing the sound of your laugh inside the same room, only through landline, and he wasn’t blessed with seeing you blush. He didn’t know how holy it would be be to hold your hand, or how fulfilled he felt when he drove you home after a night full of laughter. No, it wasn’t then.

It could have started when he saw how troubled you were after your sprained ankle that he sent an order of your favorite food to you and your brothers door. He also sent a pack of ice wraps that could help your ankle according to ichiji who always had foot problems and was an expert himself. but that wasn’t it.

Or maybe it was when he heard your distraught call, your brother’s fever had not decreased after 3 days and he had spent most of his days sleeping. He thinks it was then when he loved you, when he helped carry your 10 year old brother into the ER waiting for the doctors to give you reports. He had consoled you that night, your hair was messy and your shirt two days old as you cried into his chest. “I’m such a failure,” you cried into him, “mom... if only mom-”

“You’re doing such a great job, sweetheart.” He tells you, rubbing your back, holding you tight. “I can see it and your mom can too. You love him, and you’ve been doing everything you could, no one can deny it.” He tells you.

“I’ve never met anyone who actively measures every cup or hour, you haven’t slept for days, angel. We’re okay, we’re at the doctor’s. He’s in good hands, okay? I’m here.”

He remembered how you nodded against him and how it broke his heart seeing your tear stained face. It turned out your brother had a minor infection that medication given to him that night lowered all of his fever overnight. He stayed with you that night.

But it wasn’t then.

He found a new sense of love for you after he offered to fix your door. It was late winter, cold air would enter your loose door, and he offered to close a gap within the door that a few screws could fix. Of course, why not change your lock into something safer while he was at it? And if your brother was here too, why not show him too? Serves as a learning experience, and he liked the kid.

When he finished fixing your door, your smile made him feel proud, almost nudging at him to look for something else in your apartment that was broken that he could fix, but before he could do anything else, you spoke. “I thought about making you something. You know, to thank you for fixing my door.” That day, he learned to love your cooking, no matter how small or elaborate. If it was made by you, he would love it.

It finally struck him that he loved you when you were in the comfort of your own home. Your brother long asleep in his room as satoru watched you cook some late night dinner. The two of you had gone out eating, but were both half heartedly dissatisfied with the portions. Still hungry, you suggested making something in your home.

“I told you I could help you,” he gently nudges then pouts at your soft laugh as you stand before the stove.

“I know, but what’s the fun of it since I can’t spoil you, hm?” You smile.

“You should be angry at me, I picked a terrible restaurant.”

“Maybe I should,” you muse, “but I’m not. Maybe I’ll give you the burnt piece, how does that sound?”

“You should be crueler,” he sighs dramatically, “make me do the dishes or something.”

“Maybe. Or how about I don’t kiss you for the night instead?” he gasps dramatically.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I could...”

“That’s too mean.”

“You think?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, setting his chin on your shoulder as he watches you cook. His arms nicely wrap around your waist. “You’re too pretty.”

“And you’re too...” you huff, melting into his embrace, “sweet.”

“Yeah?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

“Yeah.” You breathe, closing your eyes as your bloodstream fills with euphoria as does his. Satoru buries his face against the part where your shoulder and neck meet before pressing a kiss there.

“I love you.”

#gojo #Satoru #jjk #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru imagines #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru gojo #Satoru gojo #JJK gojo #jjk Satoru #toru #gojo headcanons

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koipalm · 5 months

Text

“Y’know, I don’t really think it was a good idea to let Han Sooyoung get that job at the university.”

Yoo Jonghyuk blinks up at him, but turns back to picking apart a pomegranate. Kim Dokja reaches over to grab a handful of seeds, and Yoo Jonghyuk obligingly pushes the platter closer.

Yoo Jonghyuk says, “She’s just going in for some guest lectures. It’s not much of a job.”

“Yes,” Kim Dokja agrees, “but she could say anything about us and those kids would take it as gospel.”

Yoo Jonghyuk moves onto cutting up strawberries. “What are you so worried about? She won’t lie too much. History books exist.”

Kim Dokja steals a slice of strawberry this time. “Yes, she is a good writer. But she is not always a good storyteller.”

This time Yoo Jonghyuk looks up placidly. “She wrote both of our stories.”

“She’s giving lectures in order to give insight into the Scenarios and how they changed perspectives and ‘altered human interactions’. They also want a first hand account of the scenarios by one of the few people who recently participated in them, and how it impacted her. But Han Sooyoung tells stories in a way that makes the reader have to figure it out themselves, and they have at most an hour and a half. No one will be able to get anything out of it aside from how big she thought your chest looked with a belt across it.”

Yoo Jonghyuk processes this information, and promptly goes back to cutting fruit.

“It isn’t your problem.”

Kim Dokja sighs and leans back in his seat. His cane rests across his lap, and the sunlight feels warm from where they’re set up at a table in the large garden.

He starts again. “I’m just worried as to how it will go. She’s a good storyteller, but I don’t know if this will work out as well as we hope.”

“Calm down. If she can write a book about our journey, she can give a lecture to a few college students.”

Kim Dokja tilts his head back against the chair, shading his eyes with his hand.

Quietly, he says, “Maybe you’re right. I should have a little faith.”

Yoo Jonghyuk hums quietly, and Kim Dokja looks up to see him looking at his phone.

“Hey, come to think of it, isn’t it lunch time? Are you not cooking anything?”

Yoo Jonghyuk taps out a text and sets his phone back on the table. “The kids are bringing food back with them.”

“Mmh.” Kim Dokja leans back in his chair with a smile. Then, “You should come sit with me. The shade is nice.”

“You aren’t a cat.” Yoo Jonghyuk continues cutting fruit in the sun, but once he finishes, he sets the fruit aside to dry and sits beside Kim Dokja on the hanging bench. Kim Dokja moves his cane to rest on the ground and slides over so Yoo Jonghyuk can sit down. Their thighs press together, and one of Yoo Jonghyuk’s arms slides around the back so he can rest his hand on the back of Kim Dokja’s neck. Kim Dokja doesn’t mind.

The party rarely use excuses to touch him now, opting for the straightforward approach of doing what they want and letting Kim Dokja get used to it. A hand on the back of the neck, an arm looped through his, a pair of legs thrown across his lap, a child asking to be picked up. Maybe once he would have thought it to be overdone and unnecessary, but it feels grounding, and warm. They don’t mind when he does the same, so he doesn’t ask them to stop.

When the kids arrive, they find the two sleeping against each other on the hanging bench, hands tangled together in the shade.

It’s only when Kim Dokja is getting into bed when he remembers his train of thought. He’s already got his arms full with Lee Gilyoung and Lee Jihye, snuggled up against him under the blankets, so he waits until Yoo Jonghyuk slides in next to them to talk. The kids are already passed out, so he speaks over their heads quietly.

“About Han Sooyoung, it’s not that I don’t have faith in her. I just don’t want her doing it alone. She’s already had to shoulder so much in carrying out stories, and I know she wants to, I just don’t want her to feel like she has to do these things alone.”

Yoo Jonghyuk stares at him in silence for a while, sheets pulled up to his chin and hair disheveled. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Kim Dokja wrinkles his nose in indignation. “Hey, I’ve been making progress. I’m not that kind of guy anymore.”

Clearly ignoring that, Yoo Jonghyuk yawns widely and asks, “Then do you just want to go with her?”

“Absolutely not. I can’t believe how many times I have to say this, but I’m a reader, not a writer. I don’t tell stories.”

Yoo Jonghyuk shoves his face into the pillow, clearly tired of their conversation. “Then what do you want.”

“I just want someone, anyone of the party to go with her; support her while she’s there. They can give some anecdotes to make it look like they’re also sharing their viewpoint.” Kim Dokja absentmindedly blows one of Lee Gilyoung’s stray hairs out of the way.

Yoo Jonghyuk sighs. “We’ll figure it out together later. Goodnight, Kim Dokja.”

“Aish, goodnight, Jonghyuk-ah.”

#orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscent reader #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #dokhyuk #yoohankim #joongdok #my writing #smiiiiles #sorry im posting some of my old writing bc i wish i did smth with it #so at least it goes SOMEWHERE #this was from 2020 wrow #im not sure how else to tag this? just dont know how to format writing for tumblr #ill just do this for now until i figure out smth better

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voidingintotheshout · 5 months

Text

Bigger Bro: A Continuation

Okay, so there's this amazing story of filial revenge by someone on here called Better Off Bigger. They wrote an amazing 10 page (6,000 word) story called Big Bro. It's one of my favorite stories (of any genre) from the last couple of years. It is 18+ but I don't recall any sex or descriptions of nudity. Use discretion, but in my estimation is only PG-13.

Anyway, I wrote a 19 page (15,000 word) sequel to this awesome story exploring the family history and the relationship dynamics between the two brothers. I've talked with Better Off Bigger and their preference is that I link to their story and then post my own. I'll honor that and remind you that my story may not stand of its own without reading their story first.

Link to: Big Bro by Better Off Bigger

I'll post my story in two parts. I started this story in January 2023. It's DECEMBER 2023 now. It's been a tough thing to polish and edit. It's worth knowing that I loathe editing, so if there is a typo, leave it (and the location) in the comments if it's bothering you and I'll try to get around to fixing it in less time it took me to edit this thing (6+ months).

Bigger Bro (Part 1 of 2) (2023)

Note: Part 1 is in first person, from Jared’s perspective.

Fortunately, I love cooking, so spending a couple of extra hours in the kitchen every day making food for my big bro Marco was something that gave me pleasure. It also didn’t hurt that recently, my stepbrother had been conditioned to eat everything that was put in front of him, and it showed.

It has been a year since I moved out of my parents house, and Marco was out of a job. Apparently, someone tipped off our oblivious boss at how much food Marco was eating, which, at first our boss didn’t really care that much about until this person put a price tag on how much it was costing our boss, and then Marco had to go.

We moved ourselves out of that house, and for a little while he was at a loss. He hadn’t been out of work in years, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He thought for a while about going to college or going back to school in between bites of whatever food I put in front of him, but whenever I would dangle the idea of how he would pay for it in front of him, the idea of cashing in his nest egg on going back to school didn’t appeal to him. He’d tell me that he would think about it, mull it over in between mouthfuls. Fortunately, I managed to keep him mostly occupied as I persuaded him that this new arrangement was about complete freedom for him to do what he wanted. No asshole judgmental friends, no asshole judgmental parents, and no asshole judgmental coworkers. He could do what made him happy, which coincidentally was what would make me happy: him eating like a pig.

I moved around some of the dishes that were warming in the oven and stirred some of the items that were still on the stove. I treated our stove like a warming oven, so things that took a long time to put together like a stack of waffles or pancakes, or French toast, could just stay warm in the oven while I worked on other things. I could still hear Marco’s snoring from the end of the hall, so I knew that he was still asleep. Fortunately, I was almost done.

The pot of coffee was brewing on the dining table, and that was the last thing I put together for his breakfast. I already had my lean breakfast while I was cooking, because I certainly wasn’t gonna wait around a half hour to an hour while he wolfed down all of that food. I turned the heat off on the final items to get done, which was the roasted carrots in butter sauce. I started to plate everything on large trays, because he didn’t really care about eating off of ceramics, so I just put the food directly on serving trays, just to make it easier for me to keep everything clean. I just kept a stack of them on the counter and I could just throw them in the dishwasher as needed. Usually one meal cooking for Marco ended up filling up the dishwasher more or less, so I just got into the habit of emptying the dishwasher while I was prepping the food.

I was plating the food, when I heard a thud at the end of the hallway, and that usually meant that Marco had rolled himself out of bed. I knew from experience that the heavier you got, you’re not usually very good at getting a sense of how much your life has changed since you’ve started gaining weight. He wasn’t even aware that he needed to use the momentum of swinging his legs to get his body off of the bed. One time, about a month or two ago, I came home. He was taking a nap in bed, and I tried to get him to see if he could get out of bed without swinging his legs over the side. Poor fat fuck acted like I was asking him to do the impossible. For a second, I wanted to get on to the bed and show that I had more than enough core strength to turn my body without swinging my legs… that this was an indication of how fat and heavy he had become, but I didn’t wanna fuck things up.

I heard the thuds of his footfalls, and I popped my head around the corner so I could see him waddle down the hallway. Unlike me, who gained weight mostly in the belly, Marco gained it everywhere, and he had already developed massive ass and thighs that made it so that he needed to waddle everywhere he went. Fortunately, I did everything for him, so no one had yet had called him out on the fact that he was literally waddling from place to place. I loved that I saw the edge of his belly leave the bedroom quite a bit before I saw the rest of him He waddled down the hallway, his arms pushed out from the massive bags of fat hanging down under his armpits. His apron of belly fat was hanging down below the reach of his arms. He could reach the end of his belly, but only if he was lying on his back.

One day, I was feeding him breakfast and he mentioned that he had just been beating off thinking about the hot guy I’d just brought home and fucked last night. I went into his room, and I saw that he had piled some pillows in the middle of the bed, presumably to get his belly away from his dick so he could even fucking reach it. I checked the browser history, but he was either too oblivious, or careless to even think about clearing it, and I was very happy to see that he was already chatting with communities of gainers and encouragers online. Googling tips on how you can continue masturbating at large sizes. I mean, he had a boyfriend, Nathan, but all of his eating made Marco horny so he usually needed it more often than Nathan was around. Nate was a little bit smaller than I was at my peak. He weighed about 275. Marco loved it because Nate was half his size.

“Sup bro.” Marco interjected. “Have another amazing repast for me, I see. You’re lucky that I’m here so that you can keep your skills up. It’s not like that bullshit restaurant you work at even serves breakfast food.” I snickered, because the restaurant had been an ‘amazing, esteemed place’ before he’d been fired but was now a ‘bullshit, shithole, fleabag’ now. A ‘bullshit’ restaurant serving fare he’d shovel into his face as fast as he could every time I brought home anything.

He started digging into the French toast with ice cream and syrup and butter. He ate it with serving spoons now because it was just easier to get stuff into his mouth. I was trying to convince him to start eating with his hands, but it was gonna take a little bit more persuading to get him to eat foods like mashed potatoes (which were hot), or ice cream (which was cold) with his hands. “Yeah. I love getting all the practice I can. I’ll have some of my fellow chefs drop off some food starting at around eleven. Will that give you enough time?”

“Yeah. I’ll be up and about by then. I got a lot of stuff percolating in the tank.” He said, with a jerk upwards, as if he was busy thinking deep thoughts about his future, as he moaned and grunted audibly stuffing food in as quickly as he could, in an effort to overfill his stomach before his brain could send the signal that he was full. As if it was a race against time.

“Excellent. It’s important to stay busy. Will you still be up later in the week to let some of my buddies in culinary school cook for you? They all really appreciate having someone with a good appetite who can give them notes on what you liked and what you didn’t. You know, food tasters are nice, but they only taste a bite of the food but you’ll finish the whole meal so you give them better sense of which items lose their flavor or stop being as delicious by the last bite.” I also liked the fact that the mammoth meals stuffed my obese brother with thousands of extra calories, every single time he had one of those. I wasn’t about to tell my brother that they didn’t really need his feedback, but I really loved any opportunity to stuff that fatass with more calories.

I thought back to Marco walking down the hallway. His double chin turned in to a small scoop of fat as plump, fleshy face jiggled as he waddled down the hallway. Marco generally didn’t bother wearing shirts around the house, but rather just kept a nice shirt near any place that he was likely to sit and eat, so he could just throw the shirt on anytime he needed to have guests. That would guarantee that if there were any food stains, they were almost always on the inside of the shirt.

I didn’t know how fat Marco had gotten exactly, but every once in a while, I would bring home a bottle of rum and two liters of Coke, and Marco would get completely wasted. Once, Marco had gotten to the point that I knew the fatass was about 10 minutes away from falling asleep, I would make Marco put one foot foot on either scale, because Marco was too fat for anything less than a bariatric scale at this point, and get his weight. This was an important one, because this was the one year anniversary of the two of us moving in together. When we moved in, Marco was 410 pounds. He had gained another 5 to 7 pounds between when he got fired and when we actually moved in. I glanced over to the table and noticed that Marco had finished half of the food on two of the cafeteria trays that were piled high with mounds of food covered in fat and butter and sugar. “Everything good there a big bro?”

“Amazing as always. I don’t know how you do it. I was always useless in the kitchen, but I was always pretty helpful around the dinner table finishing stuff off. Not that our fucking parents appreciated that. I’m glad I can at least do something to create more amazing chefs like you by giving all of your friends notes about what they’re making. Some of them are pretty good. That lady, Sandra? She’s amazing. You should have her come and cook again.”

Sandra. Yeah, Sandra wasn’t going to be coming back.

One of the design details that I had all over the house is I had mirrors right next to photos of Marco as he used to look when he was fit. As a way of taunting him. Amazingly, he never really put it together, he just saw that he was a hot guy and that was awesome and now he can do whatever he wants which was also awesome. Sandra didn’t know she was going to be cooking for someone who at the moment was about 530 pounds. Not only that, without anyone but me and his encourager boyfriend, he had lost all sense of decorum and table manners as he was encouraged to stuff food in as quickly and shamelessly as he could; never timid about asking for, or demanding, more food at any time. It was part of my plan to make a Marco one of those greedy pigs that he saw watching episodes of My 600 Pound Life. It was all part of a larger plan.

Sandra didn’t know any of that, and when she found out that her food was being used to make a 23 year old guy who was already so heavy that he struggled to get up, even fatter… she felt like she was doing something bad, and when she insisted that she would try to intervene and get Marco to start being healthier, she had to go. If need be, I could make up some story about unprofessional conduct, or she had a death in the family and needed to move away, or whatever.

I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling that Marco had already gotten so fat that he would struggle to actually get into that fucking car of his. Once I knew that he was so fat that he would just keep stuffing himself for the rest of his life, I would point that out so maybe we could sell the car and he could keep the money for his rainy day fund and that would be so much less power that he would have to do things for himself. I didn’t need my pig to get away.

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened to her. I haven’t heard from her in a long time. I don’t know if she’s in the game anymore.” There was Nick, though, who had just moved up from Tennessee and had gotten used to putting too much butter and gravy in all of his southern cooking at the restaurant though. He was interesting, a little unpolished, but as soon as his techniques got better, I think he would jump at the chance of cooking for Marco, someone who would appreciate food made with as much butter and gravy as Nick could whip together.

Two-thirds of the food was gone. At this point I would usually go into the kitchen and rinse off stuff and put it in the dishwasher while he was absorbed in stuffing his face with more food, something that happened more and more often.

Once he got over 400 pounds and lost his job because people said he was too fat, he tried to rally a little bit, but it was moving out that really broke him. You see, he used to be a guy who could benchpress hundreds of pounds so when he was packing stuff up and moving stuff out of his room, I was making great progress with my stuff and I wasn’t helping him. His parents weren’t really talking to him that much because he kept on teasing them that he was going to move out and eat whatever he wanted and they were not happy. Fortunately for me, they are not people who communicate well. They’re the kind of people that, when they’re unhappy with you, they just stop talking to you. That was supposed to make the other person want to reach out and extend an olive branch, but Marco was just too stupid and oblivious for that. So all he registered was that they just weren’t giving him shit about what he was eating anymore and that he was almost ready to leave. I had packed up most of my wardrobe, the gym equipment, some of my smaller pieces of furniture, as well as other stuff like things from Marco’s and my childhoods that our parents didn’t want anymore. They were getting older and wanted to move into a smaller place. The house they were living in was part of a really great school system that was also really expensive. Since they didn’t really need to worry about that since they were empty-nesters, they could move into a much smaller, two-bedroom place without any stairs that was closer to his father’s job, and would be the kind of place that even if their knees started to go from all of their exercise, they wouldn’t have trouble getting around the house. A smart move, I thought.

So there I was, I would fill my car with a bunch of stuff, the big items first. It was easy. I would be packing up some stuff, with help from the guys at the gym, and I was making a ton of progress. Marco insisted that he could do it himself. He had his own car. The only problem was, the last time he had done a lot of weightlifting was 200 pounds ago, back when his weight was below 200. That belly was in his way. When he would be folding up his clothes, and lifting boxes off of the ground—it ended up being some thing that was not possible for him without getting winded or frustrated. Even with creating a mobility aide, such as putting the box on the desk chair while he was still sitting on the floor, and then using the desk chair to hoist himself up off the floor, he got worn out packing up a single box over the course of an afternoon. One day, after our parents have gone to sleep, I was back from the restaurant, and I was stuffing Marco with all of the foods that had gotten returned, as well as a bunch of other stuff that I was whipping up once he finished with that. It was our nightly routine.

He came to me, despondent. I knew it was serious because he’d stopped eating and put down the food for a few minutes. He came clean that he just didn’t have the stamina right now. Maybe he was just bloated from too many celebratory freedom meals. (That’s what he was calling every meal now that he was unemployed). He told me that he just didn’t have the energy to do this anymore and he wanted to know if he could have some help from me and my gym buddies, the ones that used to be his friends. I looked at him coldly, making sure to look down at his bloated, gut and food-stained shirt. The shirt that he had been wearing at the restaurant when he got fired. The one that had been tight then and now his belly was hanging out of the bottom of. He didn’t even care. I told him that I would get him his help, but in exchange he needed to sit there, in that shirt, stuffing his face the entire time they were packing up his room and he need to apologize that he had just gotten too fat to do this kind of stuff. I told him that I wanted him to own up to the type of man he was now and come clean. That he was too fat, and too out of shape to do anything other than eat. He started to object, but I told him that if he didn’t have his shit out of here, he would be unemployed, living with his parents, and I knew he didn’t fucking want that. I had him over a barrel. He relented.

Marco was on the last tray of food today, so while I was cleaning up the kitchen, I brought out some of the snacks that got him through the morning. I placed them in front of him I along with a remote. Sometimes he got so fat and heavy after eating, that he couldn’t manage to hoist himself up for several hours. So, since we had one of those giant flatscreen TVs across the living room, he would sometimes just sit at the table, snacking on food until his bladder or his appetite forced him to hoist his fat ass up and take care of something. “Thanks man. I didn’t wanna say anything, but those four trays are starting to not cut it anymore, you know? Like I’m not hungry obviously it’s just I’m not really as full as I’d like to be.”

God he was a pig. “Yeah, I know man. I used to be heavy too. I know how good it feels to really weigh yourself down after a nice meal. I’ve got you buddy. We’ll move up to five trays starting tomorrow. That should fill you up.” I figured by the time he got to 600 pounds a year from now I would be up to six trays, which was as much as that table could hold, but I also figured at that point I might be able to condition him to just start taking most of his meals in that bariatric bed with the foldout tables, and once I got him to start eating in bed, I knew he would never get up again. Then my plan would really start.

Anyway. Moving day. This was before Nate entered the picture. I saw Nate at the bar that Marco used to go to. He was trying to coax his date into finishing another plate of fries and all I heard was this random ex jock, shouting “stop trying to fatten me up dammit!”

I knew I had found the right person.

So I talked to Nate and explained about my brother. I knew I had chosen the right person when he got this hungry look in his eyes seeing the before and after picture from a hot, sexy confident jock to this puffy blob of a man lounging on the sofa with a huge tray of food resting on his belly, because it was the only place his fat arms could reach easily anymore. Nate immediately wanted to start playing around with Marco and it helped that he worked at a bakery, a place that tends to be open in the mornings and close by dinner time so I had someone who could feed Marco while I was at work during the dinner rush. I need to keep my brother full.

I couldn’t let him get hungry and start wasting away, now could I?

I’d set it up as if Nate was someone going to culinary school who was interested in Marco and loved his confidence or whatever, which was true. I wasn’t expecting Nate to develop genuine feelings, I was honestly only thinking of creating another incentive for Marco to continue being a pig, now that I had broken him with moving day.

Nate would come over about three times a week, and they would talk on the phone a lot, Marco never really putting it together that Nate always liked call when he knew Marco was going to be eating something. Whatever boats your float, Nate. They even fooled around… occasionally, because sex with Marco tended to be more of an ordeal, or so Nate said. The bigger Marco got, the less energetic and mobile he was. The more likely he would get out of breath, of his pulse would race too much, or whatever. This meant that his partner would need to take it even slower, and do more of the work. This meant that sex was fairly rare, especially since his belly and fat pad had buried so much of his dick at this point. I knew this because I was the one who needed to wash him down there now that he couldn’t reach everywhere anymore. The lack of sex thing was nice though, because that kept Marco horny and that made him eat more. It didn’t matter though because when he had sex, he felt like that hot stud he was before, and that also caused him to eat more.

I had done most of the washing up except for the final tray that Marco had in front of him and that’s when I heard the TV flip on, which was my cue that I could head out and start doing some cardio. I’d gotten myself into peak physical condition, so at this point it was all about maintenance. I didn’t wanna look like some kind of power lifter, so fitness was more about about going to the gym to maintain and burn off steam. I had about 45 minutes before I needed to leave for work so I had enough time to run a couple of miles before I took a quick shower and throw on my work clothes. Him being done with breakfast was a good sign. I would go for my workout, come home and then start the dishwasher. “You feeling good bro?” I’d shout from the kitchen.

I just heard a few mumbled words as he tried to talk with his mouth full. I smiled. I loved how easy this was. If the old Marco had seen what he was like now, he would be horrified. The fact that he was more than double his high school weight and didn’t really seem to care was more than I had hoped.

Sometimes, at the end of the day, he was so weighed down with food and muscle atrophy that he thought nothing of letting me help him up. The idea that he struggled to hoist his fat ass out of a chair after doing nothing but eating all day, didn’t even seem to bother him. “Awesome. I’m gonna go for my run. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I walked past where he’d seated himself on his bariatric bench with the wheels, so he could easily hoist himself up. I’d managed to convince him to let me install a little rope pull attached to one of the ceiling beams right above where he sat, to help hoist himself up. He said he didn’t need it, but I noticed that he uses it pretty much every time now. I was also gonna have one right above the spot on the couch that he usually sits in so we can use that one to help with himself up off the couch when he needs it.

I took off the apron and hung it from the hook in the kitchen, revealing the running clothes underneath. It was just easier to cook in my running gear that way I could save some time. Cooking that mountain of food for him was not easy. I glanced over at him and saw that he had already finished the fourth tray and was wolfing down a bunch of the snacks already. He was insatiable. I was glad to see that he had the TV remote and the door remote if he needed them.

That was one of the things that I treated him to when he got to 450 pounds. I had gotten to be pretty senior in the restaurant since I was saving money all over the place and getting rid of food waste (Which was going to Marco) and customer satisfaction was through the roof. Being in the food industry, and the restaurant industry in my town, you get to know chefs from all the other restaurants. It’s like a brotherhood. You find yourself calling them for references and stuff like that and eventually I’d broach the subject of what do you and delivery drivers do with food that you can’t sell. Dishes that get returned and deliveries that the customer paid for but didn’t show up to accept. Situations where you order too much of something and it needs to be used today and you’re not likely to do so. Well, wanting to have less food waste, it was easiest to just give all of that food to a delivery driver and have them run it over to Marco’s place. Marco would press the button on the door remote and let the guy in, who would place all the food in front of Marco and get five to ten bucks for his trouble. That way Marco would have piles more food and the guy (or the restaurant would have 5 to 10 bucks more than he used to. It didn’t happen every day, but it was getting more consistent as pizzas and cheesesteaks or whatever would arrive and Marco would be there to stuff it down his fat face.

Anyway, I turned down at the end of my block and continue on with my run. I wasn’t really worried about my time or my pacing anymore. I’m basically where I wanna be but I do try to keep my pace at a certain level just so I know that I’m not backsliding.

I’m very curious as to how much walking it would take Marco to get out of breath, but I don’t think he has left the house more than once in the last six months. I get all of his clothes and anything else he needs. I do the grocery shopping mainly because I don’t want him to buy a bunch of shitty tasting junk food which might make him bored. Eventually, I’ll need to resort to that when his appetite is such that I can’t really do a full-time job and feed him all day. Happily, he’s not at that point yet.

So anyway, moving day. Over 100 pounds ago. Marco had his instructions and I brought some of his old friends went and seen him in a few months and I choose the judgiest of his old gym buddies and I prefaced it by saying that Marco was unrepentant, and all he wanted to do was just be a pig out and stuff his fat ass with as much food as he could. He’d gotten himself so out of shape that he didn’t even have the stamina anymore to pack boxes and move them into his fucking car. We needed to get him out of the house so we’re gonna need to do it for him. Should only take a few hours with a couple of us working together.

The stage was set. I had given Marco a fairly lean breakfast, so he was already complaining for food by the time my friends from the gym got there. He didn’t know that they were his old workout buddies and some of his old lovers. They saw Marco with his belly hanging out of his old uniform, stuffing himself with anything he could get his hands on. Apologizing for not being able to help but he’s just really bloated lately and he just doesn’t have the stamina. That it just wears him out packing up all those boxes. He played his part to a T, and he was eating slices of cheesecake with his hands, right out of the tin. He takes a messy pile and holds it out to one of the gym rats and says “do you want a slice? It’s really good!”

They look at him disgusted. “Jesus fuck dude. You’re like a fucking disgusting pig. I think you might be the fattest guy I’ve ever fucking seen. That’s all you do. Just stuffing your fat ugly face with more fucking food? I remembered when I used to lust after you. I asked you for lifting tips. The only thing you’re lifting is your fucking fork. Do you even use silverware? Are you literally just stuffing food into your face with your hands? God what the fuck happened to you. You’re such a gross pig.” Marco looked totally defeated.

Fortunately, he was so hungry, and he was so prone to eating his feelings that it just made him want to stuff his face more, and when he realized they were not going to be convinced to treat him nicely, he almost wanted to stuff his face more to antagonize them. This gave me the idea that I’m going to be presenting to Marco later today after my run. One of the other guys chimed in who have been rejected by Marco “I remember when you were the type of guy they could have whatever you wanted, but it turns out the only thing you wanted more of was food. That’s why you ended up getting fatter than everyone else and you probably can’t even fit on most of the machines at the gym. Is it true that you got fired from your job at the restaurant because you got too fat? Oh my God, that’s your uniform isn’t it? You only got fired a few weeks ago and your belly is spilling out of the uniform? Damn, you’re never gonna lose weight if you don’t treat that as a wake up call.”

Marco, spiteful, stopped eating long enough to spit out a few words “I don’t need to stop eating. I can eat whatever fuck I want to and I hope you know that even though I’ve eaten myself so fat I can’t even pack up my own shit to move out of my house, I’m gonna stuff my face the entire fucking time you’re here so you can know that your words are motivating me to get even fatter.” He pulled up his shirt and grab the newly forming roll below his flabby sagging man breasts and said “do you see this roll right here? I’m gonna stuff my face until it ends up developing even more creases and folds in my flesh. And the entire time I’m doing it I’m gonna be thinking about you. So that you know you made me even fatter and heavier.” The rejected guy, who was a little bit of a dom, was disgusted, but I couldn’t help but notice that he needed to readjust his crotch immediately after. I’d catch Sean occasionally stealing glances at Marco gorging himself after that. Even all these months later, he’d try to play it cool and ask me ‘what is that gross pig of a brother looking like now’ and ask for a pic. There was a hungry look in his eyes that I was definitely going to take advantage of when Marco had totally given up.

I had gone around a mile and a half at this point and I was just about to turn and go through the homestretch. I tried to do about a 5K before I left for work, but sometimes I didn’t have time, and I had to turn it around early. That day he ended up stuffing himself to the point that he started begging and demanding that I order pizza to come to the house, so we could continue stuffing himself with more food as they move the last of the stuff out of his room. To the guys, I acted appalled that my fat ass stepbrother would want even more food but then, when I had a moment alone, I called the delivery place and ordered three pizzas to be delivered to our parents house under his name, as if while we were outside, he was just phoned to order more food. Happily, Marco was in on the bed and fessed up for it saying that three pizzas was not even going to be enough to fill his belly and then he probably would end up ordering a few more. That he needed to get himself nice and fat for them. That was the moment where I was absolutely sure that he was a man who ran exclusively on spite. I could use that.

As it turned out, I thought, as I finished the last third of the run. Marco had overestimated his appetite. He had eaten himself into a stupor, sure. But as he rested on his bed in the new place, surrounded by boxes, he still had one and a half pizzas left over, but those would be gone within 24 hours. After that, he was vocal about asking for as much food as he wanted. It was his thing, he had decided. He would not accept less than he wanted. The weight started to climb really quickly and I decided that I wanted to make sure that he didn’t need to leave the house to get anything so when I saw his clothes were starting to get tight I replaced them with larger sizes that I would buy on the Internet and have shipped to the house. That way he never really needed to worry about whether he could find clothes. Once I knew what brands he liked, it was very easy to pick him up a new T-shirt or sweatshirt that had sizes up to 10X or the gigantic pairs of sweatpants that he would throw on.

I even created a strap, like on a messenger bag, that he could use to pull up his pants if he needed to get them up and down. Hell, sometime between 450 and 500, I managed to convince him to start doing enemas which I needed to help him with. He was already used to the concept because he needed them before when he hooked up with guys, but the fact that he couldn’t actually reach back there well enough to insert it was new. I just needed to do about 2 to 3 enemas per week and he was good to go. I had started to turn onto the block where I lived and knew I would be heading home soon and then it was rushing to work and business as usual.

The funny thing is at one point about six months after he moved into this place. It’s almost like he just gave up. He started to look at old photos of himself like it was another person. Occasionally, he would watch episodes of My 600 Pound Life and complain because those people didn’t look that fat. Six-hundred pounds didn’t look that big to him. What were they complaining about?

That was a day where he couldn’t get the momentum to hoist his fat ass up off of the couch and needed me to help pull him up and he didn’t even have the self-awareness to see that he was a morbidly obese, 23-year-old who was too fat to wipe his ass, too fat to get up sometimes, and he was stuffing himself heading for 600 pounds.

Fortunately, one of the things that he loved back when he was fit, was showing himself off on Instagram. Fortunately, for me, he’s not very internet savvy. I walked in, and he was groggily digesting the meal working his way through a pot of coffee that was sitting next to him. The table he ate at was right next to an outlet, so I just brewed the coffee there, so he could just get coffee, as well as what turned out to be weight gain shakes that filled a small mini fridge that sat on the table. That way if he ran out of food and was desperate, he had something to eat, ignoring the fact that it was basically boost in a one-gallon pitcher.

“Hey bro” I asked the blob. “Have you thought about that Mukbang thing that I was telling you about?”

“Yeah. I’m definitely going to do it. In fact, I already set up the channel and created one or two videos already. They don’t have a lot of views, but it’s early yet. It’s not hard for me just to set up a video camera here and just videotape me eating and just talking about whatever. It’s nice to actually talk about, you know, my opinions on sports and culture and whatever and that Patreon thing that allows people to give me money? That’s amazing. People are really generous with that stuff. Especially when I showed what I looked like before I started eating? The money just started pouring in. I’m getting a lot of people that’ll just pay me money to eat random stuff. If I keep this up, I might be able to make enough money to actually pay rent around here! Imagine that, being able to earn more money stuffing my face than I could serving other people! That way, any time someone dropped off some food, I can just turn that into a video. Nate even said that he would agree to doing this kind of video where one person feeds me on camera? Apparently, that’s some thing that a lot of the guys have been requesting and it would be kinda hot to be able to do a video with my boyfriend. Thanks for the idea!” I saw that he was about to try to hoist himself up to head to the couch, but his belly bumped up against the bottom of the table and knocked him back down. He glanced up at the pull rope, and then just sighed ever so slightly. He settled back down and then reached over to grab a pitcher of the weight gain shake from the fridge. He waved me away to get dressed in my bedroom, and he pressed play on the video camera to start his next Mukbang.

“Hey, everybody. Mark of the Beast here. Or MarcObese as you’ve suggested I call myself. I’m thinking about the new name. I like it. It’s better than the cheesy metal name that I thought of. Anyway, I’ve got this pitcher of really fattening protein shake that my awesome stepbrother made. He’s the one that cooks a lot of the food you see on this channel. He’s a chef at this awesome restaurant in our town. He doesn’t want me to mention the name but it’s amazing. I’m just gonna go and rant about judgmental people at the gym while I finish this shake. Buckle up guys, I have a lot to say. Now it’s probably been a while since I’ve been at the gym. I didn’t really go back after that bullshit with moving day. Fuck those guys. I’ve just been focused on eating what I want, and living my best life. I’m glad that you guys are coming along for the ride. Although I doubt that if I did go back to the gym, it would be the same one I used to go to, the ones with all those judgy bitches that were there last time. So anyway, I struggled a little bit pulling open the door to the gym because it was uphill and I was just getting a little out of breath. OK? Not a big deal. And then this judgy twig of a woman goes ��maybe you should pick up the barbells instead of the bars of chocolate tubbo!’ And I go ‘Fuck you! I’m gonna have twice as much junk food as I was going to today, that’ll show you!’ So anyway…”

I heard Marco trailer off after I cast one glance into the living room as I saw that he had already finished about a quarter of the pitcher when I went into the bathroom, closing the door and turned on the water to take my shower. My plan was going perfectly. Once he got to about 550 pounds, it was gonna be time to move on to phase 3. I just wanted to give it a little bit more time for his Mukbang channel to become his “career”.

Once some helpful person had pointed his channel out to the gainer and encourager scene, guys from all over the world started coming out of the woodwork and being so nice to him. Giving him money just to eat food he wanted to eat anyway. To Marco, it was a dream come true. But my dreams for Marco were just getting started. The days when I couldn’t bring people home because he was taking up all the space in the living room recording his videos? That time was coming to a close, I had a feeling. The water rushed over my svelte, naked body, and I thought of how much fun I could have in that living room when Marco finally figured out why he got the big bedroom, in the place I was paying for.

///

Some time later, after Jared had quietly left, Marco shut the camera off. It was an OK video. Like a lot of his videos, he did it as a livestream where he made most of the money, release it as a video a while later, and then film a little bonus video at the same time where he would eat a little treat, based on the audience’s suggestion, and that bonus video would only be available on the Patreon. Overall, he would do about one pair of videos every day or two and between the money he made during the videos (and the money he made on the Patreon broken up per week), he ended up making about $100-$200 a week. It wasn’t much, but his channel was growing pretty quickly.

It had been a few hours since he had plunked himself down on his bench to have breakfast, and he had about a half an hour or so until people started to arrive with food for lunch. Then Jared was going to be coming back to drop off some food after the lunch rush around 2:30 or so so he had only a little bit of time before he would inevitably be woken up by someone, so he decided the best thing he could do was just put on one of the music channels on the TV and take a nap on the couch. He looked up at the rope, reached up and used all his upper body strength to pull himself up. His body felt so bloated and weighed down after eating so much, he thought to himself.

He wasn’t aware that since he overate at every single meal that heavy feeling wasn’t being bloated from his last meal, but the fact that he was growing ever closer to 600 pounds. He could feel his body shake as he waddled the short distance to the couch, and then thought better of it, and waddled back to his bedroom to go take a piss before he stretched out on the couch.

He waddled over to the toilet and grabbed the rope that was tied to a hook on the wall, and he looped it around underneath his belly, and held the loose end in his other hand, and that’s what he used to pull his belly up and out of the way, so that he could piss without pissing all over the bottom part of his belly, which sometimes was in the way now. It was another one of his stepbrother’s ingenious tricks. He was so grateful for Jared. Not having to worry about going out to buy food to fill his belly, not having to worry about cooking everything, not having to worry about rent and paying the bills. Keeping his parents off of his back? Jared ran interference about everything, so Marco could just worry about growing his channel, starting up his Mukbang business, and enjoying his life.

That done, he glanced at himself in the vanity mirror, backing up, so he could feel the tile against the soft fat behind his shoulder blades, and his large buttocks pressed against the tile. It was the only way he could take in his whole body as he saw his wide, flabby body, staring back at him. He looked at it, and smiled. Sure, he had accepted that he might be way fatter than Jared had ever been, but when Jared was fat, he looked like a flabby loser, Makos still felt like he was doing Jared a favor by making fun of him. Especially given how hot and in-control Jared had turned out. It was the push Jared needed to get the kind of life that he had now. Sure, Marco had been trying to get Jared to break his diet, but as it turned out, all of that, stuffing his face in front of Jared had given Jared the motivation to keep at it. It looked like Marco wasn’t the only one that was motivated by spite. He saw all the fat rolls and cellulite piling on top of his neck, making it so that he couldn’t really check behind him anymore because there was just too much fat on the way. He couldn’t really bend over and touch his toes anymore. When he needed to put on shoes for some reason, like, if Nate wanted to take him out for a date at a buffet, they had to be slip-ons, and he almost never wore socks. It was just too hard. He looked at his obese form in the mirror, and felt like he looked like a man was imposing and took up space. He didn’t look like the flabby loser that Jared had been, even though he was approaching twice old Jared’s size. The truth was, all of the little inconveniences didn’t really bother him because it was always only slightly more inconvenient than it had been a few weeks ago.

Maybe the extra food was catching up to him though.

He felt his leg muscles and knees protest at keeping him standing for only the few minutes it had been. He turned to the side and looked at his giant belly hanging down. His tits hanging on top of his belly like half deflated beach balls and he loved that size. He loved how much space he took up and how much his body pissed off so many people who just gave him dirty looks and words of fake concern. All of those haters on his channel were only fueling his drive. None of them were really taking care of him and thinking about what he wants, except for Jared. He was a good one. Marco shook his belly as much as he could reach. He glanced at the clock in the bathroom and noticed that he only had about 20 minutes or so before people might start knocking on the door So he waddled back to the living room, piled all of the junk food and leftovers on the table in front of and beside him on the sofa, and he went back to watching the TV, hoping that he might get lucky and open the door for a delivery driver. Before he sat down, he need to remember to grab both remotes, because it was getting harder and harder to hoist himself back up again. It was a really low sofa, he told himself. It was even tough for Jared to get off of, after he came home drunk from the bars.

End of Part 1

#better off bigger #big bro #bigger bro #gainer fiction #kinky fanfic #lgbt

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