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davishater · 6 months

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Guys, I am so sorry.... This post might just break Tumblr.... If you see my post and your Tumblr breaks, I apologize IMMENSELY! I have just written a Winter Moriarty X Reader that is 5,284 words..... Please forgive me..... 🙏 At the end, there is a part where Winter and the reader watch TV. I got that idea from @kawasemy I hope that I have been able to feed my fellow, starving, Winter simps. Again, please forgive me for everything and read the tags for more humor. Also, masterlist link in the beginning, cause it's too long to scroll....

Masterlist

Winter shoves her pale hands into her pockets and watches the sky, as the heavens shed their tears on the city of London. She was never fond of the constant rainy weather, but it's where she's lived her entire life, so all she can do is accept the gloomy weather. At least, it was gloomy until she met a certain someone.

Winter exits the store she's in and runs towards a canopy in the park across the street. She watches her only friend jump in the puddles on the basketball court the rain created. Her laughter reaching Winter's cold ears, even from that distance.

"Y/n!"

Winter calls out to her friend and she waves with a bright smile on her face. Winter weakly waves back, but quickly returns her hand to her warmer pockets.

Y/n moved here for school, from a dry climate in America. They met in a cafe, when the clumsy girl tripped and dropped her books and computer on Winter, also spilling her coffee on her in the process. The coffee had also gotten all over Y/n's computer. Winter felt bad for what happened, and even though she doesn't make it a habit to help everyone who crosses her path, she offered to fix the girls computer. Y/n's outgoing personality had pushed the unwanted friendship onto her, but after sometime, Winter couldn't bother to avoid the strange girl. She finally accepted the friendship; the first one she's had since her younger sister died.

Winter calls out to her friend again and she comes running. She stands underneath the canopy with Winter and laughs from all the fun she was having.

"You've been out here forever, aren't you done?"

Winter slightly shivers as she shoves her hands deeper into her pockets.

"What? You're such a party pooper! Why don't you come join me? You'll have more fun."

Y/n pulls on Winter's arm.

"Hard pass. You know I'm not a fan of the rain."

"And yet, you're out here with me."

Winter goes quiet at her comment and looks back out at the rain. She then speaks up to divert from the topic.

"I can't believe you forgot your umbrella."

"Well, I didn't think it was going to rain." She replies.

"Y/n, it's London. It always rains here."

"Well, it's been sprinkling lately, so I didn't think it'd come down this hard..."

"Never trust the weather here." Winter advises.

She turns back to Y/n, wipes some wet hair off of her face and brushes it behind her ear.

"Did they look at your motorcycle?" Y/n asks, brushing the rest of her hair back with her fingers.

"Yeah, just some minor issues. I can pick it up tomorrow afternoon."

"That's good, it wasn't as bad as we thought."

Winter nods and shivers again.

"If we don't dry you off, you'll catch a cold." Winter says a little concerned.

"Nah, I'm sure I'll be fine!"

"What?" Winter smirks. "Cause 'idiots don't catch colds?'"

"What!? No!"

Y/n huffs and dramatically folds her arms across her chest. Winter chuckles at how naturally expressive she is. She's been surrounded for so long by people hiding their true feelings, it's refreshing seeing someone that's so easy to read.

"It's not that funny..." Y/n continues pouting.

Winter ignores her and grabs the back of her shoulders, pushing her towards the main road.

"Come on, let's get you something warm to drink."

Winter and Y/n walk alongside the sidewalk towards the cafe that's nearby. A truck drives by and Winter tries to shield Y/n from the large splash from the truck running over the puddle, but it drenched Winter and still got on Y/n.

"Oh my gosh, Winter! Are you ok?"

Winter sputters to try and get the muddy taste out of her mouth, but fails, and wipes the excess water from off her face with her hand.

"I'm fine. What about you?"

"I'm good, but most of the water got on you! Uhg, you're more soaked than I am! Man, what a jerk!" Y/n shouts, sounding annoyed.

Winter looks at her a little questioningly.

"It happens. Come on, let's head inside."

"Are they even gonna let us inside with how wet you are?"

"Yeah. It's normal to see people drenched walking into places to get dried off from the rain."

"I see."

The girls walk into the cafe and a hostess immediately runs up to them with two towels.

"I saw what happened through the window. Are you two alright?"

"Yeah." Winter replies, plainly.

She takes the towels and places one on her shoulders and the other on Y/n's head.

"Could we use your restroom to clean ourselves up?" Y/n asked the hostess.

"Of course! Follow me."

They followed the hostess to the restrooms meant for paying customers and unlocked the door for the drenched girls. They walk inside and Winter starts rubbing the towel over Y/n's head. She swats Winter's hand away and dries off her own hair.

"I'm fine, just take care of yourself."

Winter takes a step back and stares at Y/n out of the corner of her eye. She then goes to the sink and starts washing her mouth out from the dirt taste she had since earlier. Winter wipes her mouth on the towel around her shoulders and then slowly puts it over her head and starts drying off her hair. She glances at her friend again and sees the small pout on her face.

"Are you upset with me?" Winter asks quietly.

"What? Of course not! Why would you think that?"

"You're not you're usual happy self..."

"Oh... No, I'm upset with that truck driver... There's no way he didn't see us or the puddle! He should've slowed down! Driving through puddles like that can ruin your car and it gets people wet! It was so unnecessary and if I could, I'd definitely yell at him about it! I swear, some people are just so inconsiderate!"

"He really got you that upset?"

Winter looks a little surprised.

"Of course! Now there's a possibility of you getting sick! Oh, I swear, if you do, I'm going to hunt him down and give him a piece of my mind!"

Winter accidentally lets a chuckle escape her lips and she's shocked from her own reaction.

"What? I'm serious you know!"

"I know."

"Then why'd you laugh?"

"Well... I don't know myself... I guess, it's cause I'm seeing a new side of you. I don't think I've ever seen you get mad before. I almost thought you weren't capable of that kind of emotion."

"Huh? Well of course I get mad! That's a normal human reaction, so I wouldn't be a normal human otherwise."

"Oh, my bad! I didn't realize you were capable of being normal." Winter mocked.

"What? Hey! I can be normal!"

"I'd bet my life you can't be normal about anything."

"Now that's just mean!"

Y/n pouts and Winter chuckles again. She stares at Winter's face and sees black streaks running down her cheeks from her eyes.

"Oh dear, your makeup is running."

She grabs some toilet paper and wipes off the black streaks from Winter's cheeks. Winter stares into her eyes as she does so.

"I could've done that, you know."

"And I could've handled getting drenched, so we're even now."

Winter looks away and continues rubbing the towel over her head. She then frantically pulls out her wallet and phone from her pockets. The few bills and business cards she had in her wallet were far from saving and just made the wallet look like a mess. She puts her wallet on the sink and then tries turning on her phone, but it refuses to respond. Winter cusses underneath her breath.

"That bad?" Y/n asks.

"Well, I can't contact anyone, which isn't that big a deal, but I don't have access to money either."

"Oh... Yeah that's pretty bad."

"How's your phone?"

"Well, let's see."

She pulls out her phone, which has a heavy duty case on it, and tries turning it on.

"Oh yay! My phone works!"

"I bet the case is what saved it."

Y/n chuckles, a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, I tend to drop my phone often... I guess my clumsy nature helped us a little there?"

Winter smirks and shakes her head.

"Well we at least still have access to my money, if there's anything we need." Y/n says, hopeful.

"No, save your money. Use that for your school needs."

"But I want to help out, too."

"You don't have to worry about that."

"Ok, then have you figured out how we're going to get back to my apartment without using money? We came kinda far and it's too far to walk in the rain without an umbrella."

Winter goes silent and looks away. She takes off her leather jacket and hoodie and tosses them to the floor. She then starts pulling on her t-shirt that's sticking to her body and rings out some of the water. Y/n sighs and looks around the bathroom. She then grabs Winter's hand and leads her to the hand dryer.

"Come on, we can at least dry you off a little, while we come up with a plan."

Y/n turns on the hand dryer and it blows in Winter's face. She closes her eyes and winces from the sudden intensity. Winter takes the towel from off her head and shakes her head as the warm wind blows her hair dry. She then lifts up her shirt a little, showing her stomach and waist. Winter looks up and notices Y/n staring.

"Is there a problem?" Winter asks.

"Oh... No, it's nothing."

Y/n turns her head away and Winter notices her cheeks are slightly pinker than before. Winter pulls her friend closer to her as she looks surprised from the sudden notion.

"Dry yourself off with the hand dryer, too. I don't want you getting sick, either."

Y/n complies and starts to try and dry her clothes while they're still on. The feeling of her clothes slowly drying on her made them feel icky. She scrunches her nose from the feeling and feels awkward drying herself off with a small hand dryer and Winter standing closely next to her. She knows it was her idea, but didn't realize how awkward, or embarrassing, this situation would be. Lifting your arm up to dry your armpit, while someone you care about is standing so close to you, isn't the ideal situation...

"This isn't working. We'd be able to dry our clothes better if we took them off." Winter suggested, sounding a little annoyed.

She starts lifting her shirt even higher to take it off, but Y/n stops her.

"Wait, wait, wait!"

"What?"

"Well... I uh- I'm not exactly comfortable with that..."

"Oh..."

Winter put her shirt down, then picks both her jackets off the floor and starts ringing out the water in the sink.

"So? What should we do now?" Y/n asks.

"Well, this little hand dryer isn't going to be enough to dry us off. We're going to have to change into different clothes in order to get warmer."

"Well then, at least let me buy us some warm drinks as we come up with a plan."

Winter sighs and gives into the girls protests.

"Fine, but that's it! Nothing else."

"Deal."

Winter collects her things and they leave the bathroom and sit at one of the small tables next to the window. A waitress comes over and takes their orders. Y/n stares out the window as they sit in silence until their drinks come.

Once the waitress gives them their drinks, Y/n thanks her and drinks from her cup. Winter immediately puts her hands on her cup and keeps them there. Every so often, she sips from the mug.

"I swear, how does someone not bring an umbrella along when it's raining?" Winter mocks a second time.

"Hey! You don't have one, either!"

Winter sighs.

"Ok, that's fair."

"There's a hotel across the street there."

Y/n points out the building and Winter follows the direction she's pointing in.

"Why would we go to a hotel?"

"Well, we can shower, and they have a washing machine, and we can stay there until the weather lightens up. The forecast also says tomorrow won't have as much rain as today."

"And who's money are we going to use to stay there?"

Y/n goes silent and pouts again.

"I told you, you need to save your money for school. I'm sure the fees take up the majority of your allowance anyways."

"You don't know that." She says, still pouting.

"Ok, then how much do you usually have left after you've paid the fees?"

Y/n blows a bubble in her cheeks and pouts more.

"That's... None of your business."

"Which means it's not much."

She whines and turns her attention outside again as Winter shakes her head. After sometime, her friend starts chuckling.

"What's so funny?"

"No, sorry. I just realized, it's kind of like we're on a date and you're the guy who wants to pay for everything just to make a good impression."

Winter becomes flustered and rests her chin on her hand to hide her embarrassment and slightly pink cheeks. She looks out the window as she speaks quietly.

"O-oh, uh... Does it?"

Y/n sees through Winter's failed composure and continues chuckling.

"I'm sorry, maybe that was too much for me to say."

"No, you did nothing wrong."

Winter puts both her hands back on her cup and stares out the window, watching the rain fall as Y/n looks at her. She then turns her attention outside as well. After some time, Winter speaks up.

"If you let me pay you back, I'll let you use your money to at least pay for a taxi."

"Yes!"

Y/n's face brightens up.

"Let me use your phone to call a taxi." Winter says, putting her hand out.

"Why can't you use your phone?"

Winter's shoulders fall and she frowns at her friend.

"Oh right, I forgot."

Y/n pulls out her phone and gives it to Winter as she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, as she dials the number to order a taxi. After a few minutes of Winter talking on the phone and growing more annoyed, she scoffs and hangs up the phone.

"They're all gonna be busy for a while."

"Well should we wait until one is available? Or take the trains or bus?"

"Rather not be in a crowded place if I don't have to."

Winter replied, with her fist pushing into her cheek, and the way she spoke sounded silly. Y/n giggled and Winter paid her no mind.

"I remember you don't like crowds. If only your motorcycle could be ready in a few hours."

"We can't do anything about that. Why don't we just start walking? There's a small store around the corner from here. We can buy an umbrella there and dry off at your place."

"If you're ok with that."

"There's nothing else we can do and it won't be good if either of us get sick. Gotta do what we gotta do to get dried off as quickly as possible."

"Yeah, you got a point."

The two girls finish their drinks and Y/n goes up to the counter and pays. Winter holds both of her jackets and waits by the entrance. They walk out together and quickly head to the general store around the corner. Y/n grabs one umbrella, pays for it and then heads back to Winter, who's again waiting by the entrance.

"Give it to me."

Y/n gives the umbrella to Winter as they walk outside. She opens it up and holds it over both of their heads as they start walking towards her friends house.

"Why don't you let me walk on the outside of the road this time?"

"No, you stay on that side." Winter says, bluntly.

"But what if a car comes by and splashes you again?"

"I'm more aware of my surroundings, so I can move us out of the way faster if that happens."

"What about earlier? You didn't move out of the way then."

Winter sighs.

"I shielded you, didn't I?"

Y/n goes quiet and looks down at her feet as she walks. Winter notices her silence and mentally scolds herself for not being good at relaying exactly what she wants to say.

"Besides, I'd be more comfortable if I was the one next to the road." Winter continues.

"Alright fine. Guess I can't really say anything if that's the reason."

Winter pats her head and they continue walking down the street towards Y/n's apartment.

"What if you let me hold the umbrella?" Y/n ask after a minute of silence.

"No, I'll hold the umbrella."

"Well, I want to help with something, too."

"You've done enough."

Y/n huffs while Winter stares at her and sighs.

"You really want to do something more?"

"Obviously..."

"Here."

Winter hands her jackets over to her sulking friend.

"This helps me."

Y/n smiles a goofy grin and giggles contently as she holds Winter's jackets close to her. Winter looks away and scratches her cheek. Y/n looks up at her and swears she saw a light pink color dust Winter's cheeks, but it was too dark outside for her to tell. They walk in silence for a few minutes.

"So, what do you want to do once we get back to my place?" Y/n asks.

"I just want to get warm, I don't care about anything else."

Y/n hums in response.

"Are you gonna stay the night then?"

"No." Winter replies, furrowing her brow at her friend.

"How come?"

"I'm not going to intrude on you."

"But you won't be! Besides, how are you going to get home without your motorcycle?"

"I'll manage."

"What if I force you to stay?"

"Well, then I wouldn't have a choice now, would I?"

A wide grin is placed on Y/n's face and she hugs Winter's arm as they walk.

"Then I guess that's what I'm going to have to do! I'm forcing you to stay over!"

Y/n giggles with excitement and starts skipping.

"You're that happy to force me to stay over?"

"Of course! It means we get to hangout longer!"

Winter stares at Y/n.

"You're weird."

Y/n giggles again.

Winter looks out at the street, watches the cars drive by and the people traveling to their destinations. She sees the many different expressions and judges their thoughts accordingly. Some enjoy the rain, some aren't fond of the weather and some just accepts this as a part of their life. Winter remembers that she doesn't like the rain, but finds she doesn't mind the gloomy weather at this moment. She feels a shiver come on, but the feeling immediately goes away, and her body starts to warm up without the need to shiver.

She listens to her friend hum the chorus over and over from a popular song in London right now. It's a song Winter isn't fond of, but she finds herself fighting the urge to hum along to the stupid song. She hears splashing at her feet, along with the pitter patter of rain echoing all around her, and looks down. Y/n has continued to jump in each puddle they come across again today, but Winter pays her no mind. Her friend grips her arm, for support, as she jumps in ever puddle. Winter doesn't mind it when the water splashes up onto her shoes, or even the bottom of her pants. In fact, she finds it more comical, than anything.

"If you keep skipping like that, you're going to slip and fall."

"No I won't, cause you'll catch me!"

"Will I?"

"Mh hm!"

Winter stays silent and after a few seconds, she starts moving her body weight downwards. Y/n doesn't notice until she jumps in another puddle and her grip on Winter's arm becomes unstable, from her change in posture, causing her to slip. Y/n shrieks and Winter holds her up with her arm to keep her from falling to the ground. She smacks Winter's shoulder annoyed as she spots a small smile creep up on Winter's lips.

"You did that on purpose!" Y/n yells annoyed.

"Maybe that'll teach you to be more careful." Winter says, chuckling.

"You're so mean, betraying my trust like that!"

"Well, I never told you to trust me."

"I know, but I wanted to trust you."

"I don't know why."

"Well, obviously cause you're such a good person... Somewhere."

Winter chuckles again at the "somewhere" part.

Winter stops walking and pulls her friend back, before she walks out from underneath the umbrella.

"Where are you going?" Winter asks.

"Huh? What do you mean? Aren't we going to my apartment?"

"Yeah, it's right here."

"What?"

Y/n turns her head and sees they're standing right next to her apartment building.

"Oh, yeah, you're right! Wow, I thought we would have to walk further."

"Well, we have been walking for a while." Winter replied.

"Have we? I never noticed. I guess I was having so much fun with you, time had gone by much faster. Do you ever get that?"

Winter hesitates to speak, but decided to just say what's on her mind.

"Yeah. I wasn't expecting the walk to go by that quickly, either. I almost walked past your apartment building, too."

"You and I are just so silly, huh?" Y/n giggles.

"No, being with you just lowers my IQ."

"What!? You can't say that! That's so mean!"

Y/n hits Winter's shoulder again. She chuckles as she watches her friends reaction.

"Come on, let's head inside and dry off. I'm so done with being cold and wet."

"Ok, let's go!"

Y/n holds onto Winter's arm again and they walk to the front entrance. When they get to the door, Winter closes the umbrella and continues to walk up to her friends small apartment. When the girls walk in the entryway, Y/n shuts the door behind them. They both sigh loudly, in unison, and then look at each other chuckling.

"Why don't you take a shower first?" Y/n suggests.

"I can't do that. You go take the first one."

"I don't have the energy to argue with you. Give me your clothes to wash and hop in the shower, right now." Y/n says sternly.

"O-ok." Winter says a little surprised.

She starts lifting her shirt up and Y/n stares at the curves in her sides and back. Winter's pale skin, how curvy she is, the placement of her veins and the thickness of her spine, Y/n takes a mental note of all of it. She even becomes jealous of the few droplets of water sliding down her back and disappearing in the fabric of her jeans. She wishes her fingers could feel Winter's skin, just like the rain that soaked her today.

Y/n realizes she's staring and the kind of thoughts she's having, so she immediately covers her eyes with her hands. She hears the sounds of Winter stripping down and the wet fabric pulling away from her skin. Y/n feels a tap on her arm, and while keeping her eyes closed, she holds out her arms and Winter lays her clothes over her arms.

"I'll get you a towel and a change of clothes as soon as I start the laundry." Y/n says.

"K."

She hears Winter's bare feet walk across the floor towards the bathroom. When Y/n hears the door shut, she opens her eyes and sighs. She then goes to her laundry room, shoves Winter's clothes into the washing machine and strips down to put her own clothes in as well. After starting the machine, she grabs two towels and wraps herself in one. She goes to her kitchen and fills her kettle with water and puts it on the stove. Then, goes to her room and grabs some comfy clothes for Winter before knocking on the bathroom door.

"Winter, I'm coming in!"

"That's fine."

Y/n walks in the bathroom.

"I'm putting a towel and some clean clothes here on the counter. I'm also boiling some water, so you can come and make a hot drink for yourself while I shower."

"Alright."

"Is there anything else you need?"

"I'm probably fine. I'm almost done in here."

"Ok, I'll give you privacy, then."

Y/n leaves the bathroom and starts collecting clothes for her to change into once she's finished with her shower. She sits on her bed as she waits for Winter to finish up. Winter exits the bathroom and heads towards the kitchen with a towel wrapped around her shoulders and Y/n goes in the bathroom to shower.

When Y/n gets out of the bathroom, she's dressed in comfy clothes and heads towards the kitchen and living room area. She spots the back of Winter's head, tilted slightly to the side. She makes herself some tea and heads to the couch.

As she comes around the corner, she starts laughing. She spots Winter, curled up on the far end of the couch, mouth slightly a gaped, bowl of cereal in her hands resting in between her knees and chest, and one of Y/n's thin blankets wrapped around her legs. Winter breathes in deeply and sits up straight, rubbing her eyes. She starts to continue eating.

"Did you fall asleep?" Y/n asks, still laughing.

She's never had the opportunity to see Winter in such a vulnerable state.

"No... At least... Not completely..." Winter says quietly.

Y/n sets her cup down on the coffee table and takes the damp towel from around Winter's shoulders and puts it in the laundry. She comes back and relaxes on the opposite side of the couch.

"Did you want to sleep?"

"No, I'm fine."

"You sure? I don't mind if you do. We had a long day, after all."

Winter takes a few bites of her cereal before answering.

"Maybe."

She finishes up her cereal and then puts the bowl on the coffee table in front of her. She motions Y/n to move closer to her. Instead, Y/n picks up the bowl and takes it to the sink. Winter starts to untangle herself from the blanket to try and get up.

"That's not what I meant for you to do. I was going to take care of it later."

"I know, just stay there. Now you don't have to worry about it later."

Winter leans back on the couch when she sees Y/n coming back.

"Where's your phone?" Y/n asks.

Winter pulls out her phone, that had fallen in-between her and the couch cushion, and shows it to Y/n. She dramatically snatches it from Winter's grasp and Winter looks surprised as she watches her friend walk back to the kitchen.

"What are you-"

Y/n pulls out a bowl and a bag of rice. She then takes Winter's phone out of its case and places it in a bowl. She pours the rice over the phone, making sure it's completely surrounded by rice.

"And now we wait."

"Are you performing some kind of voodoo over there?"

"Um... No? Putting your phone in rice can actually get the water out and fix your phone. At least, it's supposed to do that. Doesn't always work, though."

"You don't have to do that. I can always get a new phone."

"But then you'll lose the silly messages I've sent you! I know if it was me, I'd be sad if that happened. This way, we can say we did all we could to fix your phone."

Y/n goes back over to the couch, picks up her and Winter's cup of tea, which was also on the coffee table, and brings the two cups with her as she sits next to Winter. She gives Winter her cup and Winter moved the blanket so it's covering Y/n as well.

"You don't have to do things for me. I'm capable of doing them myself." Winter says, a little irritated.

"Oh, don't be like that. You always help me out, so I wanna help you, too. Besides, if I didn't try to help fix your phone, I'd feel somewhat responsible that it broke."

Winter purses her lips together and then takes a sip of her tea.

"Thanks." She says quietly.

Y/n smiles wide. Winter then picks up the TV remote next to her and tosses it into Y/n's lap.

"Why don't you turn on that show you like?"

Y/n thinks for a bit.

"The baking one?"

"Yeah."

"Well, why don't we watch what you want to watch?"

"Cause I don't care. Just turn it on."

"Ok, ok." Y/n chuckles.

She turns on the TV and starts playing The Great British Bake Off.

"These people are so stupid."

Y/n laughs at Winter's comment.

"That's why I like it."

"Oh, that's right, they're your people."

Y/n looks at Winter confused.

"But I'm American?"

"No, it's cause you're not the smartest person."

"Wha-! You are so mean to me, and for what?"

"Are you saying you're smarter than these people?"

"Obviously."

Winter looks at Y/n questioningly and sips from her mug.

"You think these people are smart enough to stick a wet phone in rice to fix it?"

Winter starts laughing as she sips from her mug and almost chokes on her tea.

"Please, do not die on me, I would literally cry."

"You don't want a crime scene here?"

"No! I do not!"

Winter giggles and buries her forehead into Y/n's shoulder.

"What in the world is wrong with you?" Y/n laughs.

"I don't know. I never stay awake when I'm this tired!"

"Then sleep! I literally do not mind!"

"No."

Winter starts giggling again.

"Oh my gosh."

Y/n shakes her head.

"Uhg! Why am I like this!?" Winter leans her head back and whines.

"I like this side of you. It's fun watching you act in a way you usually don't."

Winter buries her face into Y/n's lap and groans. Y/n giggles and runs her fingers through Winter's hair.

"That's nice."

"You like it when I run my fingers through your hair?"

"Mmh."

Winter reaches over and puts her cup on the coffee table and then points at it.

"Stay."

Winter then rolls over and points up at Y/n as she giggles.

"Ok, I'll make sure the cup stays." Y/n says as if she's talking to a child.

Winter's arm falls onto Y/n's lap, next to her head and then positions her legs so they're hanging over the side of the couch. Y/n fixes the blanket so it covers Winter and continues playing with her hair.

Winter stares into Y/n's face curiously.

"It's a shame that you don't know how pretty you are..."

Y/n immediately stops playing with Winter's hair and feels her cheeks heat up. She watches as Winter starts to relax down and her eyes fight to stay open. Y/n recomposes herself and turns off the TV, then continues to play with Winter's hair to help her fall asleep. Her breathing slows and her finger wraps around the hem of Y/n's shirt. She smiles and watches Winter for a while, before she starts falling asleep herself. One hand entangled in Winter's hair, other hand resting on the cup at her side. She couldn't have asked for a better day.

Later, Winter wakes up and crouches on the bathroom floor, cursing herself for acting the way she did before she fell asleep. She decided to pretend as if she never acted all 'cute' like that and swears to force herself to never act that way again for as long as she lives. She'll never speak a word of that moment to anyone and hopes Y/n will forget all about it. Although, Y/n will probably only want to talk about that one moment as soon as she wakes up....

#I'm so sorry for the length 💀#i just kept writing and it wouldn't stop #might come back and edit a little more later #it was only supposed to be a little more than 2000 #then 4000 #the end product is now more than 5000 #again I'm so sorry #i hope all y'all Winter simps can be fed by this 🙏#definitely self indulgent here #so glad it didn't come off as cringey #I've been told I'm good at writing dialogue lololol #bruh my writing app says it takes between 22 and 42 minutes to read #guys i am extremely sorry for the length i have no idea why it's so long #my friend asked me what the plot was and i literally didn't know how to explain 💀#lolol uhhhhh this is so long tumblr keeps lagging 💀#what do i even name this story when i don't even know how to explain the plot #guess I'm naming it I'm Terribly Sorry 💀 cause y'all know i am #was writing almost the entire day and now I'm pooped #10am to sometime after midnight man that's a lot of hours #in order to finish this story today i literally lived off of half a pack of peanut butter Oreos #and two english muffins covered in cream cheese #guys was my sacrifice worth it #did i give yall the story of a life time #is it really that good of a story #anyways sorry again for the length uhhhh lololol #idk why Winter's personality changed at the end there but it did #kinda cute though not gonna lie #maybe I'll write a bonus part where Winter just acts like that cause of how tired she is #ron kamonohashi deranged detective #winter moriarty

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fountainpenguin · 9 months

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So I've been thinking about this ever since Gem posted the colors and hearts and honestly I will be very curious to see if she ends up in Traffic Season 5 and more importantly how she plays... I remember she talked about how she thought it would be super stressful to be in "improv brain" all the time, and I get that and I hope she has fun.

Martyn's also talked about how he tries to go out of his way to set traps or go for flashy kills instead of PVP, saying that he considers himself on the upper end of PVP skills, but he feels like the traps and the flair are more unique for the Life series and he wants to create something that's interesting and flashy to watch (and/or give others more of a fighting chance against him).

I'm not sure if the other creators make an effort to prefer traps - I just know they scaled back OP arrows and enchantments after 3rd Life - but since Gem's set up as someone with a powerful PVP reputation, I'm interested to see if she sticks to what she knows or if she experiments with traps... and how that might impact potential alliances.

Do you dare base with a powerful person who doesn't have the years of established social protocol, and therefore might whip out the skills and slay you for the bit??

I remember her putting in the grind to get diamonds when she was possessing Cleo, and Bdubs seemed a little surprised that she would spend her screen time on that (or at least that was my interpretation)... Is Gem super competitive and will she stock up on trap materials, putting in the grind for resources?? Will she successfully get stuff or will she be pressed for time?

I've seen her in SMPs where you can take your time with the grind and you enjoy plentiful resources, but in the Life series, everything from time to resources to space is super limited. Gotta wow the crowd so spending episodes mining would be risky. What will she do?? idk but this will be interesting

Entire Soup Group fighting to the death?? omg

#Just wanted to make a post about my musings because if she does play I want to come back to this and see what I wrote #tl;dr - if Gem shows up good for her but I hope she doesn't get too overwhelmed. I hope it's a fun experience to broaden horizons!#and I hope she doesn't receive negative comments :c #GeminiTay #trafficblr #traffic life smp #mcyt #After hearing her talk about how she struggled it puts the Cleo swap episode into an interesting perspective because #you can see her trying to nudge her way in by talking about Martyn's birthday while Tango and Martyn were talking #and I think that's just totally the nature of the game is that you're gonna bump into each other's convos and sometimes get overlooked #but it would also be more comfy to play your own character than to try to carry someone else's story so this will be interesting #like honestly what this post boils down to is just 'I am curious because it's a totally new environment for her'#and I like to see the different editing styles of the players so I wonder what she will choose to focus on! [if she's joining]

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laneaconite · 2 months

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Looking for Progress

When I'm home alone, you'll hear my whistle echoing along the white-washed walls. Or in the garden, handrake turning soil singing along to songs invented in my head. A poem can be a song if only one sings along instead.

My sister used to want to be a singer, we’d twirl back and forth together, making up what we thought were melodies, but our brother, he’d hear us and scream: "You sound like you’re skinning cats alive!"

Quick stab to the gut, good twist of the knife, scarred with stale blood still roiling beneath. He’d call it a joke but we’d call it a wound, That’s three against one!

We danced and sang for our amusement, for his, he cannibalized our dreams.

-Lane Aconite

December 29, 2023

#poetry #my work #lane archives #most of my poems do come to me in song fashion now #so in my head there's always an extended edition where I keep singing #for a sprinkling of personal lore: that's because after my major seizure episodes last yr I had cognitive deficits for months after #most heavily in that my auditory processing issues were way worse & my ability to focus was hugely reduced #before I was a 3 things at once in order to focus person but after my sound sensitivity from migraine was so bad it took 2 months to #even be able to listen to music again #and I found that I couldn't listen to music and do anything else like text or read so I just laid and listened and analyzed songs as poetry #from that I very slowwwly worked up to being able to listen and do tasks so now I'm back to a soundtrack most of the time to focus person #sometimes analyzing songs still distracts me but I used to not even hear the lyrics #Those months recovering alone were a kinda dark time but I really thank them for giving me the time to become a better poet #I think it's definitely notable in the work I wrote before my seizures and afterward like this one

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circusballoon · 4 months

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NANDO!! It's been way too long since I did a proper drawing of him and it was TIME also because I was tagged for a meme with him and I had no drawings to use for the main image 8(

My cheery retired pirate vampire non-binary guy. I love him so dearly.

#I've had such an adventure with this /#I've redone his eyes multiple times /#spent so much of this image not happy with it /#but I think after the last edit I am now happy and I love him /#sometimes it just takes putting something aside and coming back to redo stuff slightly and then it's like oh yes! that's what I wanted! /#NOWEK #Kusolensi #Tandamet #Nando #I don't think his story zone has a title?

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gachaparadise · 6 months

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ahhh the Penacony leaks are really coming in now.

*chuckles* I'm in danger.

#i keep going back and forth about if i'm skipping Ratio. I was 100% going for him but now. looking at whats coming #I like Sunday and Robin and Boothill and Gallagher and Misha and Aventurine and DUKE INFERNO?!?#okay. i just saw that Aventurine might be sustain unit. i NEED one of those so bad.#my accounts gonna be completely fucked if i don't get a good support sometime soon. so like. that moves him WAY up my priorities list #and moves Ratio down :( still dunno exactly what he does waiting for official release to make final decisions #but. if he's really an imaginary dps. i might... *dies a little bit* skip him #i just!!! i have DH!!! i WANT to use DH! he's my favourite character in the damn game!#and >_> is Ratio going to have story relevance? i thought Argenti would get more then just a companion quest but he hasn't #and that kinda... bums me out? i like the meet a character THEN roll for them not the other way around. i like character who matter plotwis #A!NY!WAY! putting that aside. i might just go for the 50/50 and take what i get. just to smooth out my pity if nothing else #i don't have most of the standard pool so chances are *knocks on wood* i'll have something new to work with #and like we are getting an absolute BARRAGE of hard skip banners coming up after him.#i do not care for these women at all. extremely mid designs i SLEEP #(except for the judge she fucks but. jades are tight right now honey im sorry!!)#so. i've got a little but of time to save afterwards #post: misc #game: honkai sr #these tags are long and disjointed but its *checks clock* almost 2:30 am so. i'm a bit. you know.#i could save this draft for tomorrow and edit into something resembling a human's train of thought instead of word vomit but #i kinda wanna capture the moment. this is how i saw the leaks. the essence of desperation of a f2p. aahhh gacha my beloved.

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starswallowingsea · 1 year

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thinking about angel/demon madashu now

#🙈🙈🙈🙈#uhm angel mama demon shu where the shinkai cult is heaven and mama is trying to propagate that to the human worshippers #runs into shu who is kinda vibing on earth bc he hates hell for being stuffy and not great for his creative freedom #i've seen a few interpretations of shu if he wasnt an idol and im partial to museum director #and he has some. questionable artifacts on display that mama is sent to investigate #and shu thinks its suspicious and they dance around the fact that neither of them are human #like theres hints of it sometimes shu's demonic features creep out when he's annoyed w madara's questioning #and madara has a bad habit of leaving feathers behind #its like a back and forth and eventually shu catches madara sneaking in after hours bc shu doesnt need sleep #and accidentally reveals his true nature when he pins mama against the wall like his horns come out his wings are out he grows claws #and as a defense mechanism madara employs his angel powers and those activate in a flash of light and shu's like oh fuck #i'm going to have to erase the security team's memories of this and edit the-- wait what the fuck are you an angel?#and madara's like you're a demon????? and its like. the spiderman pointing meme #uhm. yeah yeah so. yeah yep.#dont have anything past that yet but i just made this all up on the spot so #shay speaks

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set-phasers-to-whump · 2 years

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fight, flight, or freeze

prompt: blood covered hands

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hiiiii i have to be honest this is one of my favorite fics i've written this month and possibly is up there with favorites ever. it's napoleon/illya and the most definitively romantic thing i've written for them. hope you like it!

There is blood on his hands. A lot of blood.

Some of it is his own - he’d gotten cut on his right arm and he’s got his left hand pressed against the bleeding wound, plus several of his knuckles have split, and at some point his nose had been bleeding and he’d smeared the blood from that across the back of one of his hands.

Quite a bit of it, though, is not his. It belongs to the two men he’d fought - the two men he’d killed.

They had both been fairly skilled fighters, which had dragged the fight on and on. The one with the knife had gone down first - he’d cut Illya’s arm and Illya had taken this opportunity to wrench the knife from his grasp. He’d turned it against its owner swiftly, and just like that it had been one-on-one.

This second phase of the fight is where most of the blood had come from. Illya had had the advantage of the knife, but even so his opponent had held him off for a considerable amount of time. There had been a lot of smaller cuts, and he’d broken the other man’s nose. Eventually, his having a weapon had given him the upper hand. He’d gotten quite a lot of blood on his hands from that final, fatal stab alone.

And now it’s over. He’s breathing hard and staring down at his red-stained hands, the knife still gripped in his hand, its blade and handle both slick with blood.

He drops the knife to the ground. The clatter is unnaturally loud in the complete silence.

Illya starts walking, leaving the bodies behind. It’s after sunset in a fairly deserted part of the city, which means no one notices a disheveled, bloody Russian spy trudging through the streets.

At first all Illya can think about is how angry Waverly is going to be with him. He’d said that their time in Buenos Aires was supposed to be as non-violent as possible, and Illya has just killed two men on the first night.

The men had been following him, clearly testing his character. He thinks back to Rome. To Solo’s instructions and Gaby’s insistence. That had been a different situation, he knows that, but it had ended - all things considered - pretty well. Better than this, anyway.

These men had not tried to mug him. They’d simply followed him into an alley and then one had pulled the knife and he honestly would have handed over his wallet but instead the man had simply charged at him. He hadn’t had a choice.

He tells himself this. But he’d disobeyed Waverly’s instructions and yes, he’s used to killing people, doesn’t mind killing bad people, but. There is a difference between a knife and a gun. Between a back-alley fight and a planned or expected kill.

He draws closer to the safehouse. He can see it now, at the end of the street. There’s a light on in one of the windows. This means Solo is there. This should not come as a surprise. Solo is supposed to be there. And Illya is supposed to be returning with groceries in his hands.

It’s their first night in the city, the first night of a three-week-long mission. Waverly had insisted that they spend a day or two simply settling in, orienting themselves in the city, before commencing any real espionage work. Solo is waiting for Illya to bring home food. He had wanted to make dinner.

They will have to make do with whatever food had already been in the pantry. Illya feels guilty for this. Solo had been eager to show off his cooking skills. And he’s been waiting for Illya for - he checks his watch - close to an hour. All Illya has to show for this hour is the blood on his hands and the bodies on his conscience.

He retrieves his key from his pocket, nearly dropping it as he tries to insert it into the lock. His fingers are too slick with blood.

He does manage to fit the key into the lock, though. He turns it and opens the door, taking a second to use his sleeve and wipe the blood off of the knob.

He pushes the door closed behind him with his foot and turns the lock, again making use of his sleeve to clean it off.

“Peril, is that you?” comes Solo’s voice from the right, where the kitchen is. He’s technically asking a question, but his tone says that he already knows who it is.

Illya therefore doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to go into the kitchen. Doesn’t want Solo to see him all bloody and without the ingredients he’d been supposed to buy.

He’ll just go to the bathroom and clean up, and then he will face his partner and explain what had happened.

He ends up facing his partner sooner than he’d wanted to. He’s just started down the hallway towards the bathroom when Solo pushes through the kitchen door behind him.

“Illya!”

He turns around instinctively at the sound of his name.

“Where’s the gro- why are you bloody?”

Solo approaches him so quickly that he has no time to hide his hands, to think of an easy way of explaining himself that will not make Solo too upset with him.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing that comes to mind. “I didn’t get the food.”

Solo blinks at him. “Forget the food, Peril. What happened?”

He tells it like it is. “Two men followed me. Not from here, we are safe, but when I was in the city center. One of them had a knife. I thought he would take my money. He only attacked me. We fought. I killed them.”

“Where are you hurt?”

It’s Illya’s turn to blink. This is what Solo cares about, after what he’s just said?

“Illya. Are you hurt?”

He looks down at himself. Beneath the rip in the arm of his shirt the bleeding has stopped. “Only a cut. It is not bleeding now.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt anywhere else?”

He doesn’t think he is, not seriously, anyway. Bruises and torn-up knuckles are hardly worth notice. He shakes his head.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t necessarily believe you. Let me look you over?”

He’s so relieved that Solo doesn’t seem angry that he acquiesces without even bothering to argue.

He ends up sitting at one of two chairs pushed up against a tiny table in a corner of the kitchen. The contents of a very well-stocked first-aid kit are spread out across the table’s entire surface. Illya’s shirt has been removed - the fabric had clung rather unpleasantly to the dried blood surrounding the cut on his arm - and Solo is now poking at the various bruises beginning to stain his skin.

He’d been right, at least. Apart from that one cut, nothing else is really the matter. And all the cut needs, Solo determines, is to be cleaned and bandaged.

Once Solo has satisfied himself that Illya really isn’t hurt, Illya assumes he will be left alone to fix himself up. Instead, Solo stays. He drags the other chair out and sits close to Illya, no longer looming over him, then soaks a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol and starts cleaning off the cut.

This gesture is unexpected, and the alcohol stings. Illya flinches back slightly but then relaxes. This is okay, he tells himself. It’s certainly not the first time one of his partners has fixed up an injury for him when he technically could have done so himself. It’s often easier this way, more efficient.

Solo finishes cleaning the wound and fans the damp skin around it with his hand to dry it off. Then he wraps the cleaned cut in gauze and tapes it in place.

Illya knows his partner’s work is done now. He’s about to offer to clean up when Solo grabs his hand - not forcefully, really it’s quite gentle, but it startles him nonetheless.

“What are you doing?” he asks. He tries to pull his hand away, but Solo holds fast.

“Your hands are covered in blood.”

“I know. I will clean it.”

“Let me.”

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t need this. Doesn’t need it. Shouldn’t want it. Doesn’t want it.

But then Solo is wiping the blood off of his right hand and only just holding onto it, his touch feather-light in contrast to the sting of the rubbing alcohol against Illya’s torn-up knuckles. It feels...Illya doesn’t really know how it feels, at first.

It hits him after a second. Overwhelmingly intimate. That’s how it feels. No one has ever held his hand like this before, gently and purposefully. People don’t often get close to him of their own volition. His partners have been the exception, but this is different even than that. This is not being pressed together in the back of the world’s smallest passenger plane. It’s not the frantic pressure of hands against a life-threatening bullet wound. It is not tactical. It’s not necessary.

It’s…kind.

Solo finishes cleaning all the blood off of Illya’s right hand and switches to his left. Illya lets him.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with this, how he’s supposed to react, how he’s supposed to feel. Part of him still wants to pull away. Part of him wants to lean in even closer.

Except that he knows he can’t. He can’t get this close (though, truthfully, he thinks they’ve probably already passed that point). He can’t want this, this kindness, this intimacy.

But god. He does.

The blood on his hands is gone. His knuckles are scraped and torn, pink and raw. Solo wraps them in gauze that is soft against the sting, against the soreness underneath.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Illya realizes too late that there are tears forming in his eyes. He blinks and clears them away, but Solo has already seen.

He doesn’t know how to answer. So much is wrong, but nothing is wrong. He’s killed two people and he still has to face Waverly’s anger and disappointment and he’s tired and sore and the cut on his arm is still stinging and his throat feels tight and so does his chest and he shouldn’t want this contact with Solo, shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t, but -

He has not felt anything like this before. Like someone holding his hands - which Solo is still doing, even though he isn’t doing anything with them anymore - and cleaning away the blood and asking after him. It’s overwhelming, yes, but it’s good. It’s nothing he should want but it’s everything he does.

“I don’t know,” is how he eventually chooses to answer.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Yes. No. Let go of my hands. Pretend this never happened. Never stop holding onto me. Come closer.

“I don’t know.”

Solo grips his hands a little tighter. It doesn’t hurt, not by a long shot, but it focuses him. He wants this. He wants -

He wants everything he can’t have. Everything he is not allowed to have. Everything he absolutely should not want.

He is at the edge of it now. He can step back. Or he can jump. He knows which one he should do. Knows which one he wants more than he wants anything else.

Solo breaks the silence. “Tell me if you don’t want this. Tell me if I’m making a mistake.”

His partner leans towards him, tugging him slightly closer by their still-joined hands.

And Illya jumps.

(and then they kiss, in case that's unclear lol). thanks so much for reading!!!! i had a really nice time writing this romantic dynamic and also it sure made me feel some kinda way lmao. yeah. just. oughh, you know? anyways i hope you liked it, love you! <3

#whumptober2022 #no.24 #blood covered hands #the man from uncle #fic #illya kuryakin #fought #blood #cared for #my writing #i say things #once again as in many of my fics. it is about the hands. always the hands people!!!#also. i feel like i might wanna come back to some of these fics and retitle them...i #would be breaking my trend of naming them after the prompt but sometimes i'm like damn. feels like i could do something w this.#anyways. off to bed for me! goodnight <3<3<3 #addendum: omg just edited a tag for the first time. wild. the powers this gives me...

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lxnarphase · 5 months

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━━ ❝ come and put your name on it ❞

special treatment : lap edition

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : gojo satoru + geto suguru + nanami kento + fushiguro toji + hakari kinji

☾₊‧⁺...cw : cockwarming, somnophilia, dirty talk, grinding + dry humping, fingerfucking, overstimulation, praise kink, edging, oral fixation, satoru's silly pet names, suguru being smug, kento being a desperate man, toji being toji, kinji being a bully

✧ g. satoru : sometimes gojo knows he fucks you too good to the point you can't think after, something he brags about to you all the time. but when you snuggle up to him, still stuffed with his cock and warm with his cum, he can't help but run his hands all over you. and when he realizes you fell asleep on his dick, his heart squeezes and his cock throbs hard.

"pretty angel, did you fall asleep? oh, that's just precious...you're making my heart squeeze, i wish i had my phone, you look so cute like this." "did you say my name? dreaming about me? god, you're so precious, i could just fuck you like this...shit, don't fuckin' squeeze on me like that, are you having a wet dream right now? god, i love you so fucking much." "aww, my little mochi is so cute! look at youuu, you're gushin' all over the place. messy fucking pussy too small to keep my cock and all my cum inside you." "mm, fuck, pretty thing. you wakin' up? hi pretty girl...oooh, fuck, d-did you just cum? holy fuck, c'mon, baby, on your back, lemme fuck you, princess, let 'toru make you cum again, yeah?”

✧ g. suguru : suguru's softly cooing at you when you sleepily walk into the living room, whining to him that you had a dream and you wanted him to 'fix the problem he caused.' all he can do is just chuckle at how childish and bratty you can be as his hands are moving up and down your sides while he grinds up into you.

"you're such a brat, you know that right? always blaming me for your dreams. it's not my fault you can't stop thinking about how good i fuck you." "hmm? ooh, i see...you keep having dreams of me cumming inside you, hm? are you trying to say something, princess? d'you want me to start breeding you?" "i didn't say stop moving, did i? or do you need me to do all the work? heh, so spoiled, i've spoiled you absolutely rotten." "i know, but just cum once like this, won't you? if you do, i promise i'll fill your cute pussy with my cum, okay? mhm, promise, princess, i'll give you what you need."

✧ n. kento : nanami loves having you close to him, especially when you sit in his lap. it lets him nuzzle his nose into your neck, pressing little kisses where he can while your legs are spread over his strong thighs, his thick fingers leisurely pumping in and out of your needy hole, chuckling against your skin whenever you jolt.

"honey, have i mentioned how gorgeous you are? you look so beautiful like this...spread open and wanting, just for me." "you're sucking my fingers in so well. look at that...do you think you can take a third?" "it's so messy. look at what you've done to my fingers, honey, they're soaked. clean them off for me, i want you to taste yourself before i put them back in. maybe tonight we can make you squirt, hm? do you wanna try, darling?" "you think you're going to cum again? poor thing, your little cunt is so greedy, she just wants to cum over and over again on my fingers...is my cock not good enough for you, mm? aww, don't pout, i'm just teasing you, darling." "i know, i know, it's too much, but you can take it. be my good girl, just take it and keep cumming until you can't anymore."

✧ f. toji : sitting on toji's lap is, in his mind, an invitation for him to run his hands all over you. his cock is already hard in his sweats, but he's subdued the second you get comfortable and slowly grind against him, groaning when you press sweet kisses into his neck.

"tch, are you gonna let me fuck your thighs t'night? pretty please? yeah, that's right, i'm askin' nicely. why? don't play stupid, doll, you know what they do to me." "shit...keep moving those hips, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin' good like this." "god, i can feel that pretty pussy leaking through my sweats. big bad toji make you that fuckin' wet, mama? y'like grinding that clit on my dick through my pants? dirty fucking girl." "mmh, you keep tugging my hair like that and I'm not even gonna take you to the bedroom, i will fuck you into this damn couch, woman.” "listen here, wifey, I'll wreck your cunt until you can't think about anything but me inside you. hell, I'll ruin this stupid couch in the process, i don't give a fuck about stainin' it."

✧ h. kinji : when you sit on kinji's lap, it's when he's watching a fight on tv. you can tell it's not going how he wants it to go, the toothpick between his teeth being gnawed on. when you make eye contact with him, he just raises an eyebrow, one of his hands squeezing your hip.

"cupcake, do me a favor and get on my dick before i get up and give us a reason to get a new tv." "hey, hey, don't move yet, let me see if he lands this punch...don't whine like that before i put my fingers in that pretty little mouth t' shut you up." "you always squeeze so tight when i press down on your tongue like this...pretty thing likes that shit, doesn't she? go on, fuck yourself on my dick while you drool all on my fingers like a slut." "mm, shit, baby, i can't focus on that bullshit fight, lemme help you. yeah, thaaaat's it, let your boy fuck you nice and deep, make ya cream, juuuust like this."

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honorary-fool · 8 months

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just realized my ad blocker doesnt block tumblr ads anymore. screaming crying ripping the site to shreds

#tumblr (derogatory)#rambles to the void #og posts #i mean im not surprised bc it wouldnt work when that godawful clown fuckin thng would come back sometimes after making it disappear but??#gonna test if manually clicking them to be removed will do shit #edit: it does but still

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strang3lov3 · 1 month

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Dirty Laundry

Joel's best kept secret is the washer and dryer he's not supposed to have. Your best kept secret is that you've been using that washer to get yourself off.

Tags - 18+, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, masturbation on a washing machine, dirty boxer sniffing (you fucking freak), fantasizing about a dirty old man, unprotected piv, creampie, curmudgeon joel talks you through knife safety, washing machine repairs, and overstim. 8k words, idk what the fuck happened. Thank you to @noxturnalpascal , @beefrobeefcal , and @papipascalispunk for helping me edit this monstrosity and @joelsgreys for letting me scream about washers and dryers for days <3 A/N - i have worked harder on this than my finals, but that should surprise no one. i only have one more left and then you should be seeing more of me this summer <3 i have a lot a lot a lot planned and I've been so excited to share new shit with you. Roman girlies, I haven't forgotten about you. He's up next. Anyway, you maniacs know what you’re here for, so please enjoy.

Joel’s best kept secret is his Whirlpool brand washer and dryer set, which is hidden deep in his basement. You stand before it now, loading your dirty laundry into it, using what is definitely too much of Joel’s detergent.

Perhaps it’s more accurate to say his washer and dryer set was his best kept secret, until you came along and forced his hand. Everything was fine, and then you showed up, both yourself and your basket of laundry soaking wet, leaving Joel with no choice but to lend you a hand. Biggest mistake of his life.

As great as Jackson is, it still comes up short sometimes. Not with everything; you’re beyond blessed to live in the safety of its walls. Just technologically, sometimes it can leave you missing the finer things. It's not Jackson’s fault society is twenty years into an apocalypse, thus running on twenty-plus year old appliances. The older ovens, refrigerators, and other appliances that were built in the seventies to the nineties or so are surprisingly doing alright, but the ones built when manufacturing began to take a turn for the worse around the later nineties and 2000s are beginning to crap out, especially the washers. God, you hate laundry day. The washers at the laundromat in Jackson always give you a hard time. Week after week, your chosen washer won’t start, or it’ll stop mid-cycle. The laundry attendant, Patti, often helps you wash your clothes by hand which is nice, but still frustrating for you both.

On a busy and gloomy Sunday a couple months back, you were lucky enough to pick one of the less temperamental washers and hardly had to fight or beg and plead with it to get it to wash your clothes. However, your luck ran out when it came time to dry, your dryer wouldn’t run. Refused to start, even with Patti’s help. Worse yet, every other dryer was in use at the moment. You were shit out of luck. Patti offered you a sympathetic smile and sent you home with a baggy full of clothes pins and a wagon to carry your basket of sopping wet clothes. The clothespins were a nice gesture, but didn’t help much as you didn’t have a clothesline. And - you had to laugh - most of them were broken. Oh dear, sweet Patti.

Once at home, you did your best to hang up your clothes on your porch, laying them out over the thick wooden railing, securing them with rocks. The wind was blowing something fierce that day, and then you felt it – a raindrop. And then another, and another. Before you knew it, you were caught in a torrential downpour, with your clothes blowing every which way. Working to gather your clothes as quickly as possible, you haphazardly chucked the rocks that were keeping them still in every direction, your neighbor Joel interrupting the task when he came outside and started to shout at you. Joel’s a man that can only be described as crotchety. A curmudgeon, even.

“The fuck are you throwing rocks at my window for?” he shouted, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the wind and the rain smacking your porch.

“What?” you yelled back, “Joel, I can’t hear you.”

“ROCKS,” he shouted again, “Why are you throwi–” Joel realized it was a lost cause then. He could see in your face that you couldn’t hear him, you looked puzzled and annoyed for a moment before you returned to throwing rocks and gathering clothes. “Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself. Through the pouring rain, he marched across both his and your lawns and right up the steps of your porch. “What are you doing?”

“I was at the laundromat and the dryer stopped working so Patti gave me clothespins but I don’t have a clothesline so I tried to lay them out on my porch with rocks so they could dry but then it started to ra–” Getting the picture, Joel had stopped listening to you and joined you in gathering your clothes tossing stones back into the rock edging surrounding your house. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“Nothin’, just– come on. Let’s go – we’re goin’ to my house,” he answered, dumping the last of your clothes into your basket.

“Why?”

Lightning shoots from a nearby cloud, with booming thunder following suit. Joel’s soaking wet, as are you. His hair was dark and stuck to his forehead, his thin t-shirt clung to his body, outlining his soft, pillowy tummy and belly button and his thick, muscular biceps. “Go, go, go,” Joel shouted, waving you away. “Just go. Move.” he grunted as he lifted up your laundry basket and hauled it across the grass in quick strides. He held the basket on his hip as he opened his door for you, guiding you inside with a push to your lower waist.

Your shoes squeaked as you followed Joel through his house. He took your basket down his basement stairs, “Be careful for me, stairs are steep,” he warned you, “Don’t need you crackin’ your skull open. Got enough shit to deal with.” It was sweet, knowing that he was looking out for you – even with the irritation lacing his tone.

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you saw what Joel had led you to. A washer and a dryer, olive green in color. He opened the door of the dryer and shoved your wet clothes inside it, then took off his own soaked shirt and pants and tossed them in too. “They’re clean,” he told you.

In another lifetime where the world doesn’t go to shit and fungus is the least of your problems, the mundane appliances in front of you would be the very last thing on your mind. You’d be focused on Joel, watching rivulets of water slide down his jaw, past his Adam’s apple and pool in the hollow of his throat. You’d be tracing the outline of his body with your eyes, following that thin line of hair that spreads down his lower stomach, disappearing under his boxers. You’d be eyeing his thick bulge and the way that if you squint, you could see the outline of his cock. But in this life, in this moment – where the world went to shit a long time ago – you’re more amazed by the washer and dryer he stands next to. “This is why I never see you at the laundromat? The whole time, you’ve had a washer and dryer?” you asked, astonished.

“M’not supposed to, but yeah,” Joel answered, shutting the dryer door before turning to you with his chin tilted down, eyebrows raised. Don’t you go tellin’ anyone, now.”

“I’m gonna tell Patti.”

Joel looked betrayed and puzzled. “I’m doin’ you a favor,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“You want me to dry your clothes or not?” You crossed your arms and bit the inside of your cheek as you shrugged. “Oh, Christ,” Joel grumbled under his breath. “Why the hell would you go and rat me out?”

“Because, Joel, ” you began explaining, “All of the washers and dryers are breaking and you’re hoarding your own? I don’t think so – if everyone else has to share the washers, then you do too,” you scolded. “It’s selfish.”

“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart.” You stared at Joel for a moment before turning on your heel to go tattle on him, just like you swore you would. “Wait–” Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you. Despite being long gone from Boston QZ, Joel couldn’t quite shake those smuggling and bargaining habits of his. You were serious about this threat, and he knew it. You’d march your ass through the pouring rain to go snitch on him to Patti. And really, the worst that would’ve happened to Joel would be a scolding from Maria and the washer and dryer removed from his home and placed in the laundromat. It’s not like he’d be placed in a pillory and have rotten tomatoes thrown at him. But still. Joel liked his washer and dryer. He sighed. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything, Joel. I just want to better our community.”

Give me a break. “What do you want,” he repeated, his voice lower.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, eyeing those pretty olive green appliances of his. It’s not a far walk to Joel’s house… And you wouldn’t have to wait in line to wash your clothes behind twenty other people. You did want to better your community, that much was true. But you weren’t opposed to bettering your own life. “Let me use your washer and dryer. Whenever I want.”

Joel was quick to counter in a stern voice, “Twice a week, tops.”

“Three times,” you tried.

“Once,” Joel lowered his offer and then looked at you with his eyes squinted, his head cocked to the side. “Who does laundry three times a week?”

It was a fair point. Even with your very own washer and dryer, you wouldn’t do that much laundry. “Fine. Twice,” you agreed, and Joel held out his hand for you to take and you shook on it. His palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm. In that moment you met his eyes, taking in the beauty of his face. Those sparkling, big brown eyes and the beautiful curve of his aquiline nose. Your eyes traveled lower still, and it hit you both at that moment - the realization that Joel was wearing nothing but his boxers, and that you were still shivering in your cold, wet clothes. Joel dropped your hand quickly and grabbed a clean t-shirt from one of his own laundry baskets on top of the dryer. “Here. You can change into this and toss your clothes in there too, f’ya want.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, taking the shirt from his hand. “Do you have something to wear?”

“I’m a little behind on laundry, actually…” Joel trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. You scoffed and chuckled at that. The luxury of his very own washer and dryer, right in the comfort of his home, and Joel had the audacity to be behind on laundry. “Uhh, anyway. You just turn the knob on the dryer to ‘high’ and press the start button. I’ll give ya some privacy to change, you can meet me upstairs when you’re done,” he said, and then shuffled past you.

Once Joel was up the stairs, you took off your clothes and put them in with the rest of the clothing in the dryer. You changed into Joel’s t-shirt, the fabric was soft with time and many wearings, and it smelled like him despite being washed. It was a muted teal in color, littered with a couple of bleach stains here and there. You liked it.

Upstairs, Joel made a couple of mugs of hot tea to warm you both up. “Honey?”

“Yeah, Joel?”

“N- no, like…Was askin’ f’ya wanted honey in your tea.”

“Oh.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Y– yes please. Thank you.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks. What a stupid thing to say. You watched as Joel stirred a bit of honey into your cup of tea, smirking as he then handed you the mug. Asshole. “Thought you were a coffee drinker,” you mused awkwardly, attempting to change the subject after taking a sip of the hot liquid, “You like tea?”

Joel grimaced in disgust as he took a sip of his own tea. “No. Just tryin’ to be polite for ya.”

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, you know,” you smiled into your mug.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aaand there it is. Curmudgeon Joel was back, Neighborly Joel never lasted long anyway.

You sat on Joel’s couch, warming up with your cup of tea. Joel had noticed goosebumps on your thighs and pulled a blanket over your lap. He sat next to you with his mug steaming in his hands and just stared at you, not even realizing how deeply he was admiring the way his shirt hugged your curves just right, highlighting all the right parts of you. He jolted when he felt his cock thicken in his boxers, spilling his scalding hot tea all over his bare thighs. “God bless it,” he swore. Without thinking, he pulled the blanket from your legs and covered his own lap to hide his growing erection from you.

“Joel, what the fuck?”

“Nothin’. Just– m’cold,” he lied. “Jesus fuckin’- just - c’mere,” Joel huffed as he patted the spot next to him and urged you closer, then laid the blanket back over your legs. You sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as you sipped your tea and Joel’s went cold. Dork.

Moments passed. You sat in silence, the only sound was the rain pounding against Joel’s windows as your heart fluttered in anxiety, or maybe excitement. You might’ve even called it butterflies in your tummy. But you knew better. It was just the close proximity to Joel. And the fact that you were wearing his shirt, and he was practically naked. All of it pretty insignificant, honestly. It was basically nothing.

Joel finally spoke first, “Was thinkin’ it’d be best if you’d come by at night, when I’m on patrol or somethin’. Nobody’ll see you with your laundry and it’ll stay our lil’ secret, yeah?” You nodded, still a little bashful with everything that had happened. You aren’t often like that. It’s cute, Joel thought. “An’ you can use my detergent and whatnot. Whatever you need, s’yours.”

“Thank–” an especially bright flash of lightning followed by nearly deafening thunder interrupted you. You startled and sort of hurled yourself closer to Joel, grabbed his forearm and held it tight. It was just a reflex, probably. Basically nothing.

“It’s just a storm, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna bite ya,” Joel teases with a grin.

“Oh, shut up,” you let go of his arm and missed the warmth of his skin beneath your palm almost immediately, but your longing for his touch was quickly soothed. Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side as you listened to the sounds of the storm together. You stayed like that, inhaling the sweet scent of him, masculine and heady. He smelled like the rain, too, and the hair on his underarms tickled your skin but you didn’t mind. When your laundry dried, he carried your basket home for you. You thanked him and moved to shut the door, but Joel stopped it with his hand, “Washer can be sorta delicate sometimes, so just be careful with it.”

“Noted,” you replied. “See ya, Joel.”

“See ya, hon.”

A few nights later, you returned to his home with your basket of laundry. Joel was gone, on patrol as he often is at night. Doing the laundry was uneventful , even though you probably used too much detergent, but whatever. Joel didn’t have to know. The next time you did laundry, Joel was at home. He told you not to worry about whichever nights you come by, that he’d always leave the washer and dryer empty in the evenings for you to use. He was even generous enough to make you dinner that night.

It all worked out. Joel’s washer and dryer stayed unknown to the rest of Jackson, and your laundry was cleaned in a much more efficient way. There really weren’t any flaws in your and Joel’s system, as long as you didn’t include the one laundry night where Joel was gone on patrol again, but had come home just as you were leaving. You bumped into him accidentally, causing a lacy pair of your panties to fall right out of your basket and onto his shoe. He bent down and picked them up for you, not even realizing what he was holding. “Oh. My bad,” he blushed, once he recognized the garment. “I’ll just…” and put them back in your basket. From that point forward, he was always careful to stay out of your way. Aside from that it really did all work out.

After loading your clothes into Joel’s washer, you shut the washer door and turn it on. You make your way upstairs and there’s a note on Joel’s table – Leftovers in the fridge are yours if you wanna heat them up.

Opening the fridge, you see a neatly packed container of what looks to be chicken and vegetables. Yum. God, you’ll miss these vegetables when it gets cold again. You take advantage of the offer and heat up the food in a pan on the stovetop, humming to yourself as you stir the food to keep it from burning. A light flickers above you. Weird. It flickers again, and then finally goes out. But it’s no big deal, you’ve seen in Joel’s basement that above the washer and dryer is a shelf full of supplies and you know there’s a couple of bulbs there. You go back downstairs where the washer hums, working its way through the cycle.

“Hmm,” you hum to yourself. You’d never quite realized just how high up that supply shelf is. And the bulbs are in the middle of the shelf, so there’s no good way to get them without climbing on top of the washer, which Joel would probably kill you for doing. He did ask that you be careful with his fragile washer, after all. Whatever. It’ll take like six seconds, tops. You hoist yourself on the washer and first try kneeling on it to see if you can reach one of the bulbs. No luck. You stand on your feet then, raising yourself up carefully, slowly, feeling the washer shake slightly beneath your feet. Joel would be absolutely irate if he saw you like this now. When you finally grab one of those light bulbs, you carefully lower yourself to a seated position on the washer to catch your breath. You’re not usually prone to vertigo, but Joel’s wobbly washer brought the dizziness on. You know better than to try and move right now, so you just settle yourself down to avoid fainting.

The washer vibrates under the flesh of your thighs. It’s a gentle sensation, lessened by the angle you’re sitting at. But if you focus really hard, you can feel it in your core. Curious, you spread your legs and turn to the corner of the washer, tilting your hips to the floor, and oh, this is it. You’re not even thinking about potential consequences when you shimmy your shorts and panties off, then find that sweet spot once more. The metal of the washer is cool against you as it vibrates, sending sweet little buzzes through your hot core. You’re not quite wet yet, just enjoying the sensation. Letting it build and build, seeing where it can get you. You let your mind wander, not really thinking about much in particular. The low hum of the washer fades away in your mind and you’re starting to become wet. Shifting your position, you extend your arm to find something to grab onto when you feel fabric. Joel’s clothes. He’s still a slacker with keeping up on his dirty laundry. Usually it would irritate you. It does irritate you, this exorbitant waste of an advantage he has. You look at the shirt in your hand, the same shirt Joel had lent you. You think back to that first time you did laundry here at Joel’s, how he sat next to you nearly naked. The feel of his skin and the smell of him - sweat and rain and musk. And Joel being the beautiful, incognizant man he is, probably had zero clue of how sexy he looked. Or smelled, for that matter.

With Joel now on your mind and his shirt in your hand, you decide to experiment, create a better ambiance. You keep those images of him in your mind, those feelings too. You remember the low timbre of his voice, the rain splashing against the windows, the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders. And with his dirty t-shirt clutched in your fist and its armpit pressed against your nose you remember his scent. Smell is a powerful sense, closely linked to memory and emotion, his shirt and what it’s doing to you is a testament to that fact. Legs spread wide, your hips angled down with your clit pressed to the corner of Joel’s washer, the machine vibrating under you as you inhale his scent deeply - you’re back in that memory. And then some.

In your mind, your back on Joel’s couch. You can smell him, feel him, and if you really concentrate, you can even taste him. You’re on your knees and he’s drawing lazy patterns on your back as you suck his cock and fondle his balls, and he’s moaning, grunting and whimpering your name. He tastes like he smells, heady and all masculine. He grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, guides you to straddle his hips. His forehead pressed against yours, he notches the tip of his cock inside you and pulls you down slowly, careful so as not to hurt you but it does, of course it does. Not that you mind, you love the stretch and the ache of his thickness splitting you in two. You rock yourself, grind your clit against that unruly patch of hair at the base of his cock. You’re coming, you’re coming, you’re coming.

You’re coming. Loudly, whimpering Joel’s name as you rut against the vibrating machine. As you finish, so does the washer. It sings you a little chiming song indicating the load is done washing. You can’t help but giggle at that as you bask in the discovery of this fortuitous delight. You’ve got private access to a washer and dryer and a vibrator now too? Lucky, lucky, lucky.

God, Joel’s shirt smells good. You inhale it deeply, wondering if he wears cologne. It smells almost woodsy…smokey, even.

Fuck. You’re smelling smoke.

You pull on your pants and sprint up the steps, racing to Joel’s kitchen only to find that the chicken and veggies you were heating up are no more. They’re black and shriveled, cemented to the stainless steel pan, and there’s no salvaging that. No amount of scrubbing can erase your masturbatory mistake. Fuck, Joel’s gonna kill you. Your only choice is to conceal the evidence. Surreptitiously, you take the pan and hide it under a bush outside Joel’s backdoor.

You’ll be more responsible next time - yes, there absolutely will be a next time. Gas off before you get off.

The next time came and went. And the time after that, and the one after that. Laundry was always your least favorite chore, but with access to Joel’s washer and dryer and this new trick up your sleeve, it’s not so bad. Getting off on Joel’s washer has become a weekly thing and it’s been lovely, relieving, dirty, and exciting, but you’d be lying if you were to say it’s been perfectly fine the whole time.

You’ve been abusing the poor machine. It’s no secret. You get every bang for your buck out of the washer, taking full advantage of Joel’s twice a week offer and then some. Some nights you’ll sneak over and do an extra load, wash a blanket or something just to make the washer run for your masturbatory purposes. And so, the vibrating sensation the machine produces has begun to weaken. In order to compensate, you’ve been rocking yourself harder on it, which probably isn’t helping. But it’s still washing your clothes, right?

…Yes. Mostly. It still washes, but it’s become sort of finicky. And the door doesn’t quite shut the way it used to, and it makes an odd noise now that it never made before.

Tonight you’re at Joel’s doing a double load of laundry. There were no ulterior motives on your part when you came over, honestly and truly. Your first load is drying, the second load is in the washer. Joel’s home tonight, he’s gonna cook you dinner like he always does when he’s around. For such a grouch, he wears his heart on his sleeve.

It would be more accurate to say you’re cooking dinner together. Joel came home with a basket full of fresh vegetables from the market and actually put you to work, his reasoning being that he was starving and wanted dinner ready yesterday, and that having your help cutting up the vegetables for the meal he was making would have dinner ready that much sooner. He places a cutting board in front of you and hands you a knife, “Chop chop,” he says, then laughs at his own pun as he rifles through some cabinets. “Missin’ a saucepan…” he mumbles to himself. Oops.

You start by peeling the carrots. As you begin to chop them, you realize he didn’t give you any sort of instruction. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“How small do you need me to cut the carrots?”

“Uhhhh,” he thinks. “Lemme see.” Joel turns around and watches you with a look of disappointment and repulsion painting his features. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What?” you ask defensively.

“Why are you tryin’ to cut off your fingers?”

You look down at your hand holding the carrot and your other hand holding the knife, then up at Joel. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m not trying to cut off my fingers.”

“Sure looks like it to me. Is that always how you handle a knife?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna cut off your damn fingers, dammit, that’s why. C’mere,” Joel stands behind you where you stand at the island, then lifts up your left hand and curls your fingers underneath themselves. “Keep your fingers like this,” he instructs. “Holdin’ your fingers out flat like that are a sure fire way to cut ‘em off. Now show me how you chop.”

With your fingers in the proper position now, you begin to cut the carrots. They wobble beneath you, you hate the way Joel has you holding them. “This is uncomfortable,” you tell him.

“You know what’s more uncomfortable? Missin’ fingers. Keep goin’.” You groan but keep chopping per his demand. He’s pressed against your back, one of his palms lays flat against the countertop, semi caging you in as he watches you work. “Okay, okay, stop. You’re makin’ me nervous. Gimme this.” Joel wraps his hand around yours on the handle of the knife. He moves the knife for you, cutting the carrot slowly, your hand securely in his. “You’re liftin’ the knife too much, sweetheart. Just rock it back and forth for me. Just like this,” he whispers, showing you how he rocks the knife in a fluid motion to cut the carrots. His hands are warm, his grip on your hands is firm. His breath is hot and tickles your ear, sending goosebumps erupting down the back of your neck. He chops the carrots quietly, and you feel him against you - the rise and fall of his chest and tummy with each inhale and exhale he takes, his wiry scruff kissing the side of your face. “That’s it,” he praises, “Good girl.”

Fuck. His words go right to your core. As if him holding your hands and caging you in to teach you how to cut vegetables wasn’t enough, he had to call you ‘good girl’ as well. That had to be deliberate on his part, you’re almost certain of it. And now you’ve got to pay his washer another visit. His fault, honestly. “Laundry,” you blurt out, pushing his hands off of yours and shrinking away from his hold. “Sorry. Gotta check the laundry.”

“Oh. Alright, then.” Joel watches you pace down the basement stairs and listens to you pretend to check on your clothes, opening and shutting the washer and dryer doors. He’s waiting for you to come upstairs, but you never do. “You comin’ upstairs?”

“Yeah, just a minute,” you call back.

“There’s spiders down there, you know. Big an’ fuzzy too.”

“I’ll be fine,” you yell as you unbutton your shorts and pull them down your legs. “I don’t mind them.”

Your reply immediately has Joel feeling suspicious of you. Even a mention of a mere ant should have sent you running into his arms and pleading with him to get rid of it. On more than one occasion, Joel’s woken up to you pounding on his door in the middle of the night begging him to come kill a spider that’s in your bedroom. And he always does, of course, even when the spider is miniscule and simply minding its business in a corner somewhere. He’ll scoop it into the palm of his hand and set it outside in a bed of flowers, call you a wimp and be on his merry way, grumbling the entire walk home. He wonders why the hell you’re so brave all of a sudden.

A loud, clunking noise interrupts the silence. “Oh, fuck,” you swear. And Joel’s deaf, but not deaf enough to not hear you. “What was that?” he calls from up the stairs.

“Nothing!”

Joel knows it wasn’t nothing, it certainly didn’t sound like nothing. You quickly pull your shorts and panties back on when you hear him stomping down the stairs to investigate. Wracking your brain to think of a lie to tell Joel, you realize you’re fucked, utterly and completely. It would’ve been more appropriate to think of one before now, probably around the time the washer started to make weird noises. Now you’re faced with god knows what consequences.

Joel greets you with a puzzled and angered expression. “What the hell happened?”

“I d– I don’t know. Just something… Happened, I guess,” you stutter. Subtly, you stuff the used pair of his boxers you were smelling down the back of your shorts to hide the evidence of your even dirtier secret. Joel sees that you’re avoiding eye contact, looking up and away, scratching your head. The silence hangs heavily in the air and Joel sees the guilt on your face and that your shorts are undone for some reason. “You have ten seconds to tell me the truth before this becomes a much worse day for us both.”

“Nothing happened–”

“Nine, eight…”

You fold instantly. “I sit on it,” you confess, Joel exhales in frustration. “Sit? As in… this is a regular occurrence, you’ve been sittin’ on my washer,” Joel asserts. You nod in confirmation. “Why.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, another lie.

“Well, how much have you been sittin’ on it?”

“Just like…a lot, I guess.” You look down at your feet, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Why?” he asks again.

“It…uhh…sort of…” you mumble, picking at your fingernails.

“Sort of what?”

“Vibrates.”

Joel’s face falls at the admission. “You’re not serious,” he says, but he knows you are. “Oh my god.”

“Stranger things have happened, right?” Your voice wavers as you try to soften the blow with a joke.

“Unbelievable,” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “No. Stranger things than you have not happened, sweetheart.” After taking a few deep breaths, he pushes you to the side and reaches for the shelf above the washer for a toolbox. He takes out a putty knife and wriggles the front of the washer off, then drops to his knees to inspect the washer. “Did I not ask you to be careful with it?” It’s a rhetorical question. Joel groans when he sees what’s broken inside of the washer.

“What is it?”

“Belt’s broken,” he answers. “You’re lucky s’fixable.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well, it’s good you can fix it, right?”

“Oh, no. You are fixin’ it, my darlin’. You broke it.”

Joel’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re putting his washer back together. “I don’t know how,” you tell him. You’ll make it up to him in any other way than this, but there’s no way he’s serious. Besides, he’s now the first to know that your track record with washers isn’t to be trusted.

“I’ll walk you through it,” Joel replies plainly. “Get down there. On your knees, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes at him. “Now,” he says, unimpressed with your defiance.

You drop to your knees in front of the washer, looking for the broken belt that Joel speaks of. You find one of the big and fuzzy spiders he was talking about instead. “Jesus!” you yelp, launching backwards and nearly knocking Joel over in the process “There’s a spider, Joel - kill it, kill it, kill it, Joel - kill it, please,” you beg.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, it’s harmless.”

“Joel!”

Joel nudges you out of the way to find the spider sitting right at the bottom of the washer. He scoops it into his hand, then holds it in front of you, “I thought you said you didn’t mind ‘em,” he taunts.

“I lied. Get it away from me,” You shove him away from you, and he clutches the spider more carefully in his hands, laughing.

“Yeah, I know you lied. You’re very bad at it,” Joel opens one of the basement’s egress windows and sends the spider on its way, then closes it and returns to you, first grabbing what looks to be a replacement belt for his washer from a nearby shelf. Leave it to Joel to have the most convenient yet obscure supplies right in his basement twenty years into an apocalypse. “Back to work.” You’re in front of the washer once more, and Joel takes his seat right behind you. “See that black belt at the bottom of the drum?”

“No.”

“This thing here,” he points at it with his finger. “Take it off,” You reach for the belt and tug on it a bit, “Gotta wiggle it a bit,” following his instruction, you wiggle the belt and it falls off the drum. “Attagirl. Now put this one on,” he hands you the new belt and takes the old one from you. “S’gonna be snug.”

You struggle to stretch the rubber over the drum and it snaps your hands when it slips. “Fuck.”

“Keep tryin’. Put some elbow grease into it, hon,” Joel hovers over your shoulder, just as he did earlier in the kitchen. “M’just checkin’ to make sure you got it lined up properly,” Joel tugs on the rubber belt, making sure it’s sitting where it needs to. “So tell me again how long you been doin it for,” he whispers. “Long time?”

You answer cautiously, “Uhhh…a while now, I guess.”

“Yeah, I figured. S’it feel good?”

The question throws you off, makes you nervous. But his voice is low and gravelly, and his tone isn’t pointed or accusatory. He seems curious, but for what reason, you’re not quite sure yet. “It does.”

“Better than your fingers?” Joel tightens the belt a bit and leans back. He’s watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes. You gasp when you feel his warm palm sliding underneath your shorts. “What the–” Oh, fuck. Joel found his pair of boxers. He holds the fabric in his hands, a knowing grin on his lips. “These are mine. What’re you doin’ with my dirty boxers?” he asks. He doesn’t allow you time to stutter out an excuse. “You’re a dirty lil’ bird, aren’t you?”

“Joel.”

He tosses his pair of boxers onto the dryer and whispers in your ear again, “I asked you somethin’. My washer feel better than your fingers?”

“Yeah,” you answer, “Better.”

Joel hums in amusement. He slides his hand down the front of your pants, still unbuttoned from earlier. “Saved me the trouble, didn’t ya, sweetheart?” he breathes. Your breath hitches when his fingers find your mound, as he toys with the curls there. He traces over your lips, then dips a finger between them, circling your hole, then circles your clit. “Better than mine?” he asks, dipping a finger into your center and you moan. He holds one hand on your hip as the other pumps in and out of your center, and you lean back into his chest, relaxing with his touch. You sigh deeply. “Don’t get all cozy on me, now. You ain’t done. Gotta put the front of the washer back on, should just click right into place.”

Joel pulls his hand away from you so you can lift the front piece of the washer. “It’s not–” you complain, struggling to click it into place the way Joel says it should. You push and push, but it doesn’t budge. “Joel, it’s not–”

“It will. Just try.”

“I am,” you argue, shoving it once more but to no avail. You’ve grown frustrated by his washer, by the task Joel bestowed upon you in fixing it, and his teasing, too. In a fit of anger, you stand up and kick it.

“Hey, easy,” Joel scolds. “Look, like this,” Magically, the front piece of the washer fits right into place, just like he said it would. He does nothing different than what you did, it just works out for him. Of course it does. “You’re impatient, huh?” he murmurs, moving behind you. You gasp when you feel his hands on your hips, tugging the fabric of both your shorts and your panties down to your ankles, he helps you out of the garments and tosses them elsewhere. His hands are on your hips again, this time guiding you, whispering, “Back, back,” as he positions you where he needs you, spreading your legs apart. You’re leaning on his washer and he’s on his knees behind you, using his nose to tease and part your slick folds. He inhales you deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your arousal before he tastes you. He traces your lips with a pointed tongue, up and down, before he dips his tongue into your heat, savoring you.

“How ‘bout my tongue?” he purrs, whispering against your skin. You don’t answer, and it’s not like you could anyway, with the way he devours you. His arms are wrapped around your legs, his fingertips are digging harshly into your thighs like he means to bruise you, tear the flesh off your bones even. It’s possessive in nature, but not abusive or aggressive. You know his actions aren’t borne of anything except pure pleasure and you indulge in it, in him. He moves slow like honey as he tastes you languidly, kissing you. He laps your velvety heat, his tongue teasing all of your sensitive, slick flesh. Now and then the wiry hairs of his beard will tease and scratch your inner thighs, a sensation that tickles you and rubs you raw all the same. “Oh my god,” you moan, reaching behind yourself to take hold of his head, fingers tangling in his graying curls and waves. “Joel, oh my god.”

Joel takes your lack of a real answer to his question as a no, his washer pales in comparison to his tongue. Good. He bets you’ve fantasized about him, all those times you’ve used his washer for those needs of yours besides washing your clothes. And he bets that you probably grind yourself on it, picturing it’s his warm flesh beneath you and not the cold metal of the machine. He’d be right. He sucks your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. He nips at your folds, sucking one, then the other between his plump lips, then focuses his attention back at your clit. You’re moaning his name, the only word you know anymore. Joel keeps you still, held tight in his arms so that you can’t push your ass back and grind against his mouth like he knows you’re fighting to do. All you can do is take it, feel his perfect aquiline nose tease between your cheeks. He’s buried himself face first in your most private place as he consumes you voraciously, his tongue flicking and swirling and painting you. You’re biting into your own arm, seeing stars as you come on his tongue. It’s an elusive sort of orgasm, the kind where you don’t exactly know where it begins and it ends. All you know is that you’re sensitive, so fucking sensitive and Joel is relentless. Your knees buckle as he toys with your clit, gives you a break for a moment before he’s right back there again, continuing to eat you. He keeps going and going, repeating the actions over and over again just to make you cry and beg, “Stop - please - I can’t, I can’t, Joel. T-too much.”

“Know it’s too much, sweetheart, s’why I’m doin it,” Joel coos. But he obliges, places one last kiss to your heat, soaked by his spit and your own arousal before he stands up behind you. He wraps one arm around your stomach, pulling himself close to you. You can feel his hard cock against your ass, separated only by his denim as he uses his other hand to turn your face to the side, meeting him beside you. He kisses you, tracing his tongue along the seam of your lips, licking into your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, then feel his hand leave your face to reach for his fly. You hear him unzip his jeans slowly, and then he’s pulling his cock out, still kissing you as he lines up with you, first parting your thighs with a gentle nudge of his knee before notching his tip at your entrance. He finally pulls his mouth away from yours and gently forces your chest down toward the washer. He pushes himself into you, careful so as not to hurt you but deliberately so that you still feel that ache, the stretch of his thick cock separating your insides. Joel continues holding your body close to his as he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlacing his fingers in between your own. “How about my cock, sweetheart? You like it better, worse?” he whispers, kissing, nipping at your ear in between words. He pulls out of you nearly all the way, then pushes back into your dripping cunt.

You try to answer, “Bet - oh, ahhh,”

Joel chuckles at the way he’s reduced you to nothing but broken syllables and moans. “Ohhh, listen to you. I think it’s better, huh? S’that what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” You nod frantically. “Yeah, I know, beautiful.”

His pace is slower to start, but it builds in quick time. You can feel he’s fighting with himself to be more gentle than he actually wants to be, his thrusts sloppier than he intends, like he’s losing himself in you. You’re lost in him, lost in the moment all the same. You take it all in, the lewd and obscene sounds of the pleasure he creates with you - his thighs slapping against yours and the gushing of your cunt on his cock. Your moans, your cries, all babbling nonsense. And Joel’s deep breaths in and out, shaky and stuttering as he does it. His grunts and his swearing, a whimper here and there if you listen closely. He fills you up perfectly, hits that sweet spot deep inside you over and over and over…

“You coulda had me like this the whole time,” he pants, “Didn’t have to go an’ break my washer f’ya needed somethin’ more than those fingers of yours, sweetheart. Know you been needin’ some lovin’.” He reaches for your breasts, squeezing and groping the flesh, twisting your nipples and smirking when you twitch and whine. “All you had to do was ask.” You don’t respond, but he doesn’t expect you to anyway. What he did expect, however, were your moans of displeasure as he pulls out of you. He knows, oh, he knows how empty you must feel, you poor thing. He’ll soothe that. He flips you around, seats you on his washer. “I’m gonna make you come again,” he promises, “I’m gonna watch.”

“Too much, Joel, I can’t,” you cry. You want to come again, really. But you don’t think you have it in you, still so worked up, overstimulated by the endless teasing of his tongue on your pussy.

“Oh, don’t cry. You can do it, hon. You can take it,” he says, “Open up those legs for me, darlin’.” Joel pushes your trembling legs wide so he can slot his hips between them, then wraps your legs around his waist before sliding his cock into you once more. He thrusts just once, rather harshly, before he’s met with another rather loud noise from the washer. Joel halts and scratches the back of his neck. God, he hopes he didn’t just do it in. “Probably shouldn’t…uh…”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“Did you use my dryer too?”

“Duh,” you answer. “How else would I dry my clothes?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “No, smartass. Were you usin’ it for your dirty work, is what I’m askin’.”

“No.”

Still inside you, Joel slides you over to his dryer. “Good girl. Poor washer’s been abused plenty by you already.”

“But I will,” You whisper defiantly under your breath, wrapping your arms around his neck as he adjusts.

“Wrong ear, sweetheart. My right one’s deaf. I heard that loud and clear.”

Joel’s back to fucking you in an instant. He wastes no time in making good on his promise, thumbing your clit as he rolls his hips into you. “See, look at you. Takin’ me just fine,” he praises.The way you squirm and take your shallow little breaths fills him with satisfaction and delight. He knows this isn’t easy, that you’re tired and sore and overstimulated. He’ll be done with you soon. “Come with me, wanna feel you come with me, sweetheart,” he says. “Focus here, eyes on me. You’re gonna come with me.”

It’s a few moments of Joel painting your clit with those tight, steadied circles as he fucks you hard and deep. There’s a push and pull to it, where you’re not sure who this is for - yourself or Joel. Just like before, you’re not sure where it starts and stops, but you’re there. God it’s intense, you’re gonna break and you know it. Joel’s got his palm on the back of your neck, squeezing you. His jaw clenches and he’s coming undone first, but he never loses focus on you. His thrusts stutter as he milks himself in you but doesn't yet stop - he’s making sure you’re gonna come. “C’mon baby, c’mon. Give it to me,” he says. “One more for me. Last one.”

His words are all it takes. You whimper and moan, cry his name as you find your climax. Release washes over you the way waves crash onto sand - it’s repeated, the way the tides push and pull. Deafening. Powerful.

But there’s a calmness yet. The rolling of his hips slows, slows, stops. He presses his damp forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay?”

You nod and smile, “Yeah, I’m good.” He smiles with you and helps you off of the dryer. Joel finds your clothes and dresses you in them, steadying your shaky legs.

Joel tentatively restarts the washer. It chugs a bit, but makes all the right noises and he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re a bit startled when he takes you by the arm and marches you up the stairs. “New rule,” he says, “You stay with me when your clothes are washin’.”

You bite your lip to hide your guilty smirk. “Yes. Joel.”

“And I still need you to cut them veggies for me, too.”

I struggled heavily with this fic, comments and reblogs would be much appreciated if you were feeling so inclined🙏 they keep me motivated and I look back at your words when I’m writing to remember that I’m capable of pleasing you all

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfic #joel the last of us #tlou joel #pedro pascal x reader

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bratbby333 · 2 months

Text

choso kamo — the boy next door

synopsis you were completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. but choso liked it that way. cw nsfw, stalking, somnophilia, voyeurism, overstimulation, dirty talk, cream pie wc 4.1k

author note i received three separate requests for pervy!choso, dom!choso, and boynextdoor!choso so i decided to combine them into one story to celebrate hitting 250 followers! eeek i love y'all so much, i hope this scratches the right itch in y'alls brains ♡ proofread and edited up by my favorite person in the known cosmos: @remlionheart *+:｡.｡ thank you for pushing me to finish this

Choso was a constant fixture in your life. For as long as you could remember, it was always you and him. His house neighbored yours and your families had become close over the past fifteen years. Your childhoods were intertwined, filled with joint pool parties, barbecues, and movie nights. The two of you even shared a babysitter when your parents would go out on double dates. You carpooled to school, played in the cul-de-sac until the streetlamps came on, snuck through each other's windows when your parents thought you were sleeping; inseparable. You guys even ended up at the same university after graduating high school. You were finally home for the summer and you couldn’t wait to spend time with your best friend, uninterrupted by the hecticness of college.

A brisk knock resonated through your home, the door answered by your mother.

“Hey! It’s so nice to see you again,” Choso grinned, nodding gently as he stepped into your foyer. You perked up at the sound of his voice echoing through your house. It was difficult to see one another as much as you had wanted this semester; you both explored different hobbies and found separate friend groups while in college, but you always made sure to find the time. You hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, though; the stress of final exams kept the two of you apart. It had been far too long.

“How have you been, honey? How was your semester?” your mother chirped as she engulfed him in a quick embrace. The two of them shared genial words as they caught up with one another. They continued to chat before being interrupted by the heavy sounds of your excited feet thumping down the staircase. He turned to greet you, only to be entrapped in a bearhug, the momentum pushed his body into the wall behind him.

“Choso! Missed you so much,” you squealed, voice muffled as you buried your face into his chest. You breathed him in, the familiar scent of his cologne dancing through your nose. His cheek found the top of your head as his warm hands rubbed gentle circles into your back, rocking you side to side. Your mother smiled with adoration at the two of you. He squeezed you tight before he pulled away, peering down at you. You noticed a light dusting of pink that surfaced on his skin as you looked up at him, but chalked it up to the sweltered heat of summertime.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he replied before returning his gaze to your mother while still holding on to you. ”Exams were tough but I’m happy that it’s finally over,” he added.

His attention fell back to you as his hands rubbed against your arms, “But, I’m all yours for the summer!”

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

You sat next to him on the floor, backs pressed against the foot of your bed. The two of you shared a pizza as a silly rom-com played on your TV. You took turns catching up on each other’s lives while the film faded into background noise. You felt renewed in his presence, the youthful glow of his features reminded you of how he was when he was younger. But your chest began to ache as you thought about how the time you spent with one another would become harder and harder to come by. The conversation lulled a bit, and you willed yourself to voice your concerns to Choso.

“Sometimes I wish we could go back to how things were,” you blurted, hands fidgeting with the pizza box. Choso quirked his eyebrow at the statement. You met his gaze, smiling softly, bringing your knees to your chest. You sighed deeply. Being away from him hurt more than you thought it would, and you never recognized how much you needed him until you saw less of him.

“I miss being a kid…I miss the way we were,” you continued, “Not a single care in the world. I feel like the older we get, the less we’ll see each other. I don’t want that, Cho,” you mumbled, reextending your legs. His heart thrummed at your earnest confession as he leaned forward and captured your hand in his.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere…I can promise you that, sweetheart,” he reassured, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

The conversation quieted, his words of consolation seemed to ease your mind enough for you to fixate on the screen. He watched you through his peripherals as you giggled at the corniness of the movie. Choso tried his hardest to follow along, but there you were, sat before him in a thin tank top and skimpy pajama shorts. He sent a silent “thank you” to the heavens; the record-high heatwave that plagued your city gifted him such a magnificent sight.

He side-eyed you, his vision tracing along your body. He took another bite of his pizza as he drank you in; dinner and a show. His vision followed every dip and curve of your almost fully exposed legs. He was thankful that you felt comfortable enough around him to dress how you pleased, but his dark heart wished you were sitting in just a thong, or better yet, fully nude. His eyes meandered north, hovering over the peaks of cleavage that your shirt didn’t cover. He swallowed thickly, nearly choking on his food when another giggle erupted from you, your breasts bouncing as you laughed.

He smiled inwardly, your fear of losing him warmed his heart. He wasn’t going anywhere. How else would he be able to see you like this; all nostalgic for him, the desperate expression on your face sent waves of arousal through his veins. His desire to know how you’d look splayed out underneath him rocketed through his body as he envisioned your fucked out face when he feathered hot, wet kisses along your neck and plunged two thick fingers deep inside you…how pretty you’d look just for him. What sounds would you make when his throbbing cock was fully enveloped in your gushy walls? Would you whimper and whine? Would you cry out for him? Rake your nails down his torso with your eyes blown wide? He so badly craved the answers to his searing questions.

Your laughter panged through his chest, snapping him out of his trance. You were completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. But he liked it that way. You continued to sit so good for him, eyes casted toward the TV. If only you knew the innocent relationship you had manifested in that sweet little mind of yours was one-sided. For him, it was dirty–downright filthy and sinful. But you would never know that.

Blood rushed between his legs as he shifted on the floor. The movie had about twenty minutes left; he was trying to hold out until then. He was desperate for release, anxiously anticipating the thick load he would shoot out at the thought of you, though he would pretend that it was going inside of you, instead. Oh, how he wanted to breed you. How soft you’d look carrying his spawn. He shook his head as he cleared his throat, single handedly fighting off every demon known to man that was telling him to pounce on you. He couldn’t. It would ruin the close friendship that took years to curate. It would kick him off the pedestal you placed him so highly on, tarnish the clean-cut version of him in your parent’s mind. He battled with his own thoughts as he mindlessly stared at the TV.

The end credits rolled and Choso stood abruptly.

“I’ll catch you tomorrow, okay? Gotta get some sleep,” he said, readjusting his pants. You looked up at him, confusion evident on your pretty face.

“I thought you were spending the night,” you pouted, before pushing yourself off the ground.

“I know…I’m sorry, sweetheart. But knowing us, we’d stay up all night watching TV and talking instead of actually sleeping,” he played off. The ache between his legs intensified at the thought of sharing a bed with you like you usually did when he slept over. But he can’t. Not tonight…not like this. Normally he was good about keeping his composure, but tonight was different. Your puppy dog eyes didn’t help, either. He so badly wanted to see those same eyes gaze up at him while his cock was shoved down your throat. His dick pulsated against the soft fabric of his shorts as he shadowed you toward your bedroom door, taking an internal note of how good your ass looked as your shorts rode up between your plush cheeks. He nearly lost it as you skipped down the stairs, your precious mounds bouncing in all the right places. You opened the front door for him, spreading your arms to hug him goodbye. He opted for a side hug, knowing damn well you would have been able to feel his hard on from the full-frontal contact.

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

You closed the door, pressing your back against it as you wondered what had gotten into Choso this evening. He was always up for a sleepover. You shoved your hurt down, embarrassed by your apparent clinginess. A shudder ran down your spine at the thought of your neediness pushing him away. Your warm body glided toward the fridge, throwing it open and basking in the cool air as you grabbed yourself a drink. You shook the shame from your mind as you shuffled back up the stairs. You peered out your window and into Choso's room; it was dark. He must’ve gone straight to bed. You opened the bay windows to your bedroom. The cool air danced through the panes, swirling around the confines of your dwelling. You inhaled deeply before stripping down, settling peacefully atop your sheets; it was far too warm to be under the covers.

Choso surveyed you from the comforting shadows of his room. He did this frequently before the two of you had moved away, watching you get ready for bed with a firm grip on his shaft.

“That’s it, pretty…take it all off f’me,” he muttered. His strokes sped up as he watched you undress, the moonlight that seeped into your room illuminated your heavenly body so perfectly. He huffed as he watched you retreat to your bed, his hand stilling around his cock. The thought of you wasn’t enough for him tonight. He needed you.

An hour or so passed before he ascended the tree that stood tall next to your window. His clammy hands gripped the railings that lined your small terrace as he heaved his body over, careful not to make a sound. He had done this many times before, whether his presence was expected or unbeknownst to you. He crept through the open window and entered your room, settling himself in the chair next to your bed. Your nude frame emanated the most ethereal energy, your bare chest rose and fell rhythmically, the soft gasps that fluttered from your parted lips sent blood straight to Choso’s groin. He palmed himself through his pants, leaning back a bit to shove them down his legs. His hand paced up and down his length agonizingly slow, before he stopped dead in his tracks as soft groans emerged from your throat.

“-oso,” was all that was audible. His blood ran cold as he leaned closer to your slumbered body, ears ringing in hopes to hear more. Was that–No…it couldn’t have been. You shifted a bit, another moan breaking through the silence of your room.

“Mmm…Choso,” you whimpered dreamily, one hand moving to rest just under your navel. His heart rate spiked. He watched as your hand traced lower, snaking its way to your precious cunt. You rubbed sleepy circles in your clit as your head lulled to the side, soft, sweet whimpers dancing from your parted lips. It was now or never. He pulled his shorts back up as he situated himself on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hand against your shoulder.

You stirred a bit after a few gentle shakes of your body, your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. Your body went rigid as your eyes focused on the outline of a person sitting before you, but the familiar smell of Choso met your nose and kept you from jumping out of your skin. You closed your eyes again, the hand that was playing with your wet cunt moved over your body to grab his hand, squeezing gently. Choso nearly broke down at the contact, the stickiness that he so badly needed graced his skin, numbing his brain.

“Hey, Cho…y’scared me. Thought you weren’t sleeping over,” you murmured. Choso’s conscious worked overtime to keep his composure leveled as he exhaled deeply.

“Seems like you needed me, though,” he chuckled. You hummed in response, your sleep-ridden mind not registering his comment. You began to doze off once again before panic rumbled through your body as you finally recollected the dream you were just immersed in. Then the realization hit. You shot upright, tearing your hand away from Choso as you grabbed for the covers, attempting to shield your naked body from him. You clicked on your bedside lamp, turning to Choso with your brows furrowed deeply. Your best friend just caught you in the middle of a wet dream. A dream about him. Embarrassment coupled with shame as you held the sheets tight against your body. You were thoroughly confused–what was he even doing here? How much did he hear? You wanted to protest, to plead your case, to interrogate him. A million questions buzzed around your brain, but his hand was quick to cover your mouth.

“S’okay, sweetheart. It’s just me,” he soothed. He kicked his shoes off and kneeled beside you, hand still firm against your face. Your shoulders were tense, but you relaxed a bit at the baritone voice that fell from his lips.

“Did you have a nice dream?” His question seemed rhetorical. He felt your face flush underneath his palm as you nodded slowly. He removed his hand and you spoke up immediately.

“How’d you know I–”

“Was watching you sleep,” he shrugged. “I’ve wanted you for so long…figured it was a lost cause. But it seems the feelings are mutual, huh, sweetheart?” he cooed, his body loomed over yours as his palm brushed your face, cradling your cheek.

“You were tryin’ so hard to fight it…to pretend those dirty feelings for me didn’t exist…isn’t that right?” He mused. You glanced down at his crotch, the heavy bulge pressed firm against his thin shorts. You audibly gulped, your breath caught in your throat before meeting his eyes. You nodded at him again.

“Bet you dressed like that on purpose…such a tease,” he chastised, thumbing your cheek.

“Gotta make up for lost time, yeah?” He ripped the duvet off of you and moved so he was hovering over you, your body laid out underneath him, his arms placed on either side of your head.

“Cho…I—we shouldn’t,” your voice wavered, suddenly unsure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders. “I don’t wanna lose you…don’t wanna ruin what we have,” you added, worry painted across your face, eyes fluttering back and forth between his. You were splayed out beneath him, fully nude, every dark secret of yours laid out in front of Choso. The hungry look in his eyes caused your arousal to drip onto the sheets beneath you.

“Wanted this for years, pretty girl. I already told you I’m not goin’ anywhere,'' his head dipped down to lick a thick stripe down your neck. “You gonna let me take care of you now?” he questioned, lips pressed against your flesh, nipping at the sensitive skin. Your back arched immediately at the sensation. You moaned softly in response as you ran your hands up and down his toned back.

“Tell me, pretty girl,” his fingers danced down your body, teasing the skin around your core. “Tell me you want me as much as I’ve wanted you,” he whispered in your ear.

“W-want you…Cho. So bad…needed you for s-so long,” you begged, your brain fogged and voice airy while your hands clawed desperately at his back. He smirked at you as he sat back on his heels, tearing his clothes from his body. Your eyes dragged up and down the man you had grown up with. A part of you knew how you felt about him, knew how much you needed him. But you didn’t understand the full depth of that need until he was kneeled before you, perspiration glistening along his toned body as he repositioned, laying himself along the bed, his face settled right above your dripping cunt. The way he looked at you through his luscious, jet-black lashes set your pounding heart ablaze.

You couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening. All you could feel were the sharp aches in your core as he teasingly ran his fingers through your slit. He smiled against your thigh as he plunged his fingers in immediately. You gasped at the intrusion before succumbing to the pleasure as the pads of his fingers massaged your sweet spot.

There was a sense of urgency behind his movements; the lack of time he gave you to adjust to the stretch, the way he was thrusting so fervently into you and how hungrily he bit at your flesh–it was overwhelming. He pumped into you, tirelessly working to coax an orgasm out of you. The first of many. He tilted his head down to watch his fingers disappear inside of you. He used his other hand to rub your sensitive clit, before quickly replacing it with his tongue. He wanted to drink you in for as long as he could, your juices satiating the hungriest part of him.

His eyes blew wide, “Fuck–you’re so sweet, pretty girl,” he breathed, lapping at your core. He needed more, needed you to fall apart on all of him–his fingers, his mouth, his cock. You were going to take everything he gave you. You cried out for him, your hips spasming against the bed. He grinned before latching back on to your clit, sucking harshly, working into you like it was his life’s mission to please you. And in his mind, it was. He was set on releasing a decade’s worth of pent-up frustration on your pretty little body.

“F-fuck Cho–ah!–I’m gonna…” your voice trailed off as your pussy clenched down on his fingers. He groaned at the tightness, tongue still swirling around your sensitive bud. A shudder ran down your spine as your orgasm ripped through your body. He continued to pump into you, suckling harshly against your clit before swirling around your entrance to ensure he drank up every drop.

He knew he should wait and give you time to recover. But the way your body twitched and writhed for him ripped away the sense of gentleness and morality that he usually had. It was all too much. He wanted to ruin you, to punish you for holding out on him for so long. He needed to be balls deep, needed to mold you around his cock–he had waited years for this. He sat up abruptly, wrapping your shaking legs around his waist as he lined himself up with your soaked entrance. Your chest heaved and your eyelids grew heavy while your body worked through the comedown. He pushed into you, fully sheathing himself inside your pulsating walls. Your eyes widened while your hands pushed against his abdomen.

“Wait, Cho–”

“S’okay, sweet girl. I got you…focus on me,” he soothed, his pelvis flush against you as he took a hold of your wrists, pushing them over your head and pressing them against the headboard. He found an unrelenting tempo in you. You body spasmed and squirmed at his pace, jolting each time his thick cock brushed against your still sensitive g-spot. He was stuffed so deep inside of you, savoring the way your messy pussy sucked him in. He released your hands and leaned back, finding his bearings on your hip bones, pulling you toward him to meet his thrusts. Grunts rumbled from deep in his chest as he felt you clench around him. He looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, the squelching sounds and labored moans that filled the room made him choke.

“Nasty fuckin’ girl…you’re lovin’ this aren’t ya?” he teased. You couldn’t fathom a response. Your body had passed the point of overstimulation as his brutal pace pulled another earth-shattering orgasm from your wrecked body, painting his abdomen with your squirt. He dropped his head back, animalistic sounds flying past his lips as the warm spray splattered onto his skin. He pulled out of you before shoving right back in. You cried out, body trying to squirm out of grasp.

“C-can’t…s’too much,” you sobbed out. You meant it, it was too much. But the pleasure that clawed its way through your trembling frame was unreal; addictive, even. He simultaneously numbed your body and made you feel every sensation in the known universe.

“Uh uh…almost done, pretty–stay right there,” he growled, “Just give me one more.” He wanted to live in this moment forever. Every stolen glance, dirty thought, and shameful ejaculation to the thought of you was nothing compared to the way your pretty little pussy clenched around him. He had ached over the mere thought of you for years and his body brimmed with arousal at his darkest dreams coming to fruition. And though he wanted to paint your sloppy walls with his thick seed, the wanton desire for you overpowered his need for release.

Your eyes rolled back in your skull as your shaking hands searched for any part of him to hold on to. You were a panting mess, fat tears running down your face. And it was all for him. He was drunk on the way your fucked out face lazily looked up at him as you fell apart on his cock. He made quick work of burning that image on the inside of his eyelids.

“Doin’ so good. Stay with me, sweetheart,” he grunted, his hips slamming into you. It was so sloppy now…so nasty. He fucked into you with feverish passion, and your body shook as the coils in your tummy crept up once again.

“C’mon…just one more. Know you can do it,” he urged, his aching cock absolutely obliterating you. His fingertips gripped your flesh so tightly, he prayed it would bruise. He hoped his mark would be left on you, an aching reminder that you belonged to him. You always had. He fucked into you, his tip kissing your cervix so perfectly. You cried out, clenching down on him again, your third orgasm crashing through you in a blinding haze.

“S-shit…so good. God–you’re fuckin’ milking me,” he growled out as he twitched inside, swears and praises cascaded from his parted lips as he chased his own release. It only took a few more thrusts before his hips stuttered against you and he finished deep inside, pumping you full of his cum. He remained sheathed within your walls, his palms running up and down your dazed out frame.

He leaned down, catching your lips in a needy, wet kiss. You were stunned into silence, your body cemented to the bed, convinced that you had lucidly dreamed this entire ordeal. You winced at the ache of Choso finally pulling out, missing the deep stretch of his cock as he leaned over to scour your drawers for a rag to clean you up. He feathered gentle kisses after each pass of the cloth. He laid by your side and you curled into him immediately, his arms snaking around your fragile body.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you whispered, breath shaking. He smiled before kissing the top of your head. “But I’m so happy it did,” you added, pressing yourself deeper into his side as his fingers brushed along your skin, soothing you toward a deep, satisfying slumber. Choso reveled in the dream-like trance he found himself in. His heart soared at his achievement that was years in the making, his body crossing the line that divided reality with heaven. He finally got you, and he was never, ever letting you go.

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

author notes: thank you so so so much for 250 followers...i literally cannot believe it. if i could remove a piece of my heart and send it to y'all i would

my inbox is open and i'm always working thru my requests, feel free to send your suggestions here ☾

every like, comment, and reblog makes me sob uncontrollably...your support means the world to me xx

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itadore-you · 11 months

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hello everyone! i hope your sunday is going well, wherever you are, whatever you're doing. i am writing this fun little message to hold myself accountable to post my (first ever) iida drabble!! it'll be here in like half an hour

#idk what happened to me but drabbles now hold my entire heart hostage I cannot STAND writing anything longer atm #and yes i think about that poll I did like months ago and how I have not posted a different iida and yuuji drabble #it is because my silly self editted it too much and got excited to make it a whole fic then I went on hiatus #after coming back tbh i kinda wanna scrap those but NO. ill post both this following week #gotta get back into writing bc i know i love it but sometimes it stresses me out

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cheralith · 1 year

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to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, "mother"/"daughter"/"wife" used, parental death, mentions of child abandonment, not too much mention of him being spider-man

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, hints of pining, just some good ol' fluff for everyone's current favorite dilf, angst w/ comfort, heavy need of editing prob, not beta read

notes ; purely self-indulgent to fuel my love of found family trope apologies

parts: one two three four (tba)

Single Father!Miguel O'Hara whose life revolves essentially around one person—his daughter—but to be one of the heads of America’s largest corporation and bearing the responsibility of keeping Nueva York safe and sound whilst simultaneously being a single father was not exactly something that Miguel O’Hara could juggle so easily. Hell, he’s even surprised that he’s made it so far without losing his absolute sanity considering he couldn’t even recall the last time he was able to rest properly without his attention being wavered to something or someone else.

Single Father!Miguel whose hands always filled to the brim with tasks and obligations. Miguel wished he was able to clone himself twice in order to have three Miguel O’Haras attending to each of his duties soundly, but alas, Alchemax and the matter of his mind can only do so much.

Single Father!Miguel whose ever so lucky to have you as his assistant to at least help with two out of three of them. You entered the picture around three years ago, when he had caught the eye of his superiors and had used his intelligence to their own advantage, disguising it as a promotion of sorts. You were given as some sort of gift to them as a way to help ease his workload and he truly couldn’t be more thankful for your existence—if he doesn’t necessarily show it most of the time from his stoic countenance he masks on 24/7. While not exactly a carbon copy of him, you, by far, come rather close, and Miguel will take whatever comes to him in this day and age.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that you're obedient and demure, though rather soft spoken and a little too apprehensive for his liking at times (he had noticed, before you became his assistant, that your coworkers would shovel their workload onto you and you’d accept with little complaint but evident hesitation; he wonders if it was the given similarities between you and him that made him choose you as his assistant). You dressed well, hung onto every word he said, and spoke out when properly needed. You were a good aid to have around—great, even.

Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.

Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.

Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.

Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.

Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.

Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.

Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).

Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.

Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.

Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.

"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"

He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.

Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.

Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.

Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.

Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.

Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.

Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.

Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.

Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.

Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.

"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"

"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.

"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"

Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.

Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.

"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"

"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."

You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.

"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."

You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"

"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.

"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.

So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.

"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."

He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.

"(Y/N)."

At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"

Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"

"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.

"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.

"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."

Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.

"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.

a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)

anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!

as always, thank you for reading and likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed（╹◡╹）♡!

#spider-man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader

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sturnsdoll · 2 months

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𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘠𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙 -`♡´- - c.s & t.y x reader

inspired by THIS

pairing: chris x tara x reader.

summary: two of your bestfriends stay over after a party. your friend tara's flirting quickly escalates the night into something much less innocent than a little sleepover.

warnings: smut, threesome, face sitting, dom!chris, switch!tara, sub!reader, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f & m recieving), praise, overstimulation, fingering, no protection (it's fiction. don't be dumb.), probably forgot some sorry!

authors note: omg y'all been on my ass to finish writing thiss <3 i did write and edit this while sleepy so (i really hope not) BUT if there's mistakes or lack of detail i'm really sorry!

"pink" = reader speaking "purple" = tara speaking "orange" = chris speaking

the time on your phone read 3:04am.

with a sigh you searched your surroundings impatiently. you'd been stood outside on the lawn of this stupid giant house for 4 minutes too long. the dampness on you from light raindroplets coming down just made the experience all the more unpleasent.

the mansion behind you was a mututal friends. inside, music blared so loud that it was seeping out through the windows. despite the absaloutely absurd hour of the night it was still bustling with people inside. sometimes in LA it felt like the parties just never died out. to be fair though, the number had signifincantly decreased from the start of the night when there must have been at least 100 people on the property.

"hey, sorry! i got caught up in yappin while trying to say goodbye to people" tara's familiar voice instantly made your tense shoulders drop. you turned to face her with a smile "it's alright. seen chris around yet?" your eyes scanned behind her to see if he was coming even though you didn't expect him to be. and he wasn't. "maybe we should text him?" tara suggested as she also looked behind her, as if it would make him appear faster. you pulled out your phone to send him a message.

3:07. they were both told to meet out here at 3:00. 7 minutes still wasn't terribly late.

tara's voice took you from your screen "we've been out here freezing, loser" you stop typing your text message to look up at whoever she was talking too. you were met with the sight of chris holding his jacket over his head to block from the rain falling down on him. "my bad, i got lost in the house.." he admitted as he got right up to the two of you and held his jacket out a little further to invite you both beneath it's shelter. "but i already called the uber so it should be here soon." he said re-assuringly. you both stepped beneath the coverage of his jacket. it didn't completely block the rain but it was something.

tara was staying over tonight because the two of you almost always stay at one anothers after parties. chris however, was coming along because neither matt or nick wanted to come to the party so you had taken him here, as well as offered to take him home the next day. he could have just ubered home tonight but, you and tara insisted that he come over to hang out after. what was he gonna do? say no to a fun innocent little sleepover with his friends??

the three of you walked in unison in order to keep your place under the shelter of chris' jacket. the whole way off the property the music faded and tara's heels clicking mixed with the rain's intensity picking up became all that was heard.

the close proximity of the three of you should have been uncomfortable but you had absaloutely no issue being this close to tara and chris- probably because they were both very outgoing and touchy people so they were comfortable as well, giggling the whole way down the lawn about who knows what. the smell of rain and chris' dior cologne filled your senses up the whole walk until finally, you all made it to the sidewalk and the uber was right there across the street.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

the ride home, you had all sat in the back together. you sat in the middle, head on chris's shoulder and one leg swung over tara's lap as you and tara yapped away almost the entire time. this wasn't weird because tara, you and chris were all naturally touchy people. and the alcohol hadn't completely left yours or taras systems quite yet.

opening your front door now, you instantly removed the heels that had been abusing your feet for hours. "i'm gonna get comfy clothes, you two can make yourselves comfortable" you told your friends as you locked your door securely. "could i borrow a shirt or something?" tara questioned with a sweet pleading smile as she slid off her heels and coat. "of course! come on" you enthused, leading her toward your laundry room since you hadn't had time to put any of your clothes away earlier before the party.

chris watched as you lead tara away. he had already made himself at home on your couch. he had been here before so it didn't take him long to figure out the tv remote either.

tara eventually picked out a t-shirt of yours to wear. you had chosen a matching tank and shorts pj set. as you were sliding your shorts on under your dress, you caught sight of tara sliding her dress down her shoulders. slowly her tits peaked over her dress, little by little till they were completely exposed.

you were in awe of how perfect they sat. how pretty. you were so mesmerized that you didn't even realize she had completely removed her dress and caught your hungry gaze. a typical tara giggle escaped her, snapping you out of your haze.

your eyes shot up to hers and you look petrified. "i'm so sorr-" "no no, it's okay" you could tell by the smile on her face that she was genuine. she slid your shirt over her head, covering her body back up again. "you want help unzipping your dress?" she asked. you were still so stuck on what had just happened that the question caught you off gaurd. why not though? god knows it'd be a nightmare to unzip it yourself. so, you nodded with an embarassed "sure".

tara made her way behind you, she stepped just a little closer than necessary and her painted fingernails found your zipper to slide it down. you could feel her breath on your neck, making your spine shiver. she slowly slid the straps of your dress down your shoulders, letting your dress fall down near your stomach.

she came right behind you, head on your shoulder. she looked down at your chest VERY obviously observing you with her gaze. "gorgeous" she complimented, her mischevious smile contradicting her sweet and casual tone. she gave a quick kiss to your shoulder before abruptly leaving the room to go find chris like it was nothing.

you stood completely dumbfounded. you and tara were extremely close but that was weird, right? after a couple minutes of collecting your thoughts, you chalked it up to her flirty personality just being fed a little too much liquid courage tonight.

after getting your clothes on you made your way to the living room where chris and tara were talking away. they were sitting surprisingly close but, spacial awarness wasn't always tara's specialty. chris didn't seem to mind.

"heyy me and chris are deciding what we want to eat, what do you want?" she questioned excitedly with uber eats already open on her phone.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you all had made your decisions on food as well as a movie and you instructed that everyone watched it in your room to be more comfy so here the three of you were now..

chris laid with his back against your headboard while you and tara sat next to him on either side. chris and tara were talking over the movie that was nearly over now. waterbottles and empty fast food containers filled the space on your side table. you and tara had completely sobered up about an hour ago after having had some food.

"right? like wear what you want i guess but like WOW i just.." you had no clue what chris was talking about and you didn't care, as your eyes fixated on the tv screen you drowned out your two friends voices. reaching into your bedside tables drawer, you removed a vanilla chapstick sorry spacecamp to fix the dryness that earliers alcohol had cursed you with.

the scent of it was super strong. chris had subconciously switched his attention from what he was saying to your lips as the scent you were applying filled his nose and senses. he watched as you drug it across your perfect, round and now smooth, lips. he realized he was staring and quickly looked away. now that his attention had been drawn to you, he realized that you hadn't really talked to him or tara much for the past hour.

"what is that? cake or some shit?" he said, more so as a reason to include you in conversation than out of actual curiousity. you went to put the cap back on the vanilla lipbalm "can i try?" tara asked before you could even answer chris. you went to hand her the tube but she stopped you by grabbing your wrist gently "why waste it when we could share?" she asked. you were confused for a second until a playful glint in her eyes told you what she meant.

so earlier she was flirting? you thought to yourself. your expression mirrored hers with a smirk as you casually responded "of course you can try it". she begins to move forward so you do too. the both of you are leaning over chris when your lips connect in a gentle peck. chris has no idea how to react. his lips are parted, eyes glossy with a growing desire as he watches his two friends infront of him.

your lips hover one anothers for a moment but nobodies pulling away so you connect mouths again. this time there's a passion, lust, to the kiss. your the first to add tongue and tara's more than welcoming about it, her tongue fighting back against yours for dominance. you lean into the kiss more and with that same surge of confidence, you make a split second decision to "accidentally" steady yourself by pressing your hand ontop of the blanket.. right over where chris' dick is located.

an unexpectful grunt slips his lips. you pull back from tara just a little to gage chris's reaction. he doesn't seem to mind but for your own good-concious you need to make sure. "this okay?" you ask as your palm gently starts rubbing onto the tent in the blanket. he nods confirmingly, a quiet "yeah" before his lips eagerly meet yours. tara backs up just slightly so she can adjust herself to place a kiss below chris's jaw. his hand rests onto her knee and he rubs his thumb lightly as a show of approval.

with that, she opens her mouth and begins lightly nipping at his neck. tara takes his hand that's on her knee and grabs it to guide it toward you, silently telling him to give you the attention instead right now. chris smirks into the kiss but you don't know why until his hand goes to toy the waist band of your shorts, making you flinch a little at the cold touch of his fingertips.

tara's lips leave chris's neck. she shuffling around the bed so you try to pull away to see what she's doing. chris's hand comes to the back of your head, forcing you back onto his lips. that doesn't last long though because next thing you know, tara's grabbing your shoulders to pull you to lay down on your back, head toward the end of the bed. your legs naturally go on either side of chris. he's still seated with his back against the headboard.

"you wanna make me feel good babe?" the tone of tara's voice makes your stomach flutter. you respond by nodding eagerly. tara giggles mischeviously in response as she stands to remove her black lace panties. chris eyes catch onto her. both of you watch as she bends over to slide them off, momentarily revealing her glistening pussy.

his attentions pulls away when you subconciously buck your hips up for attention. chris' long fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts to slide them off your legs. you allow him, lifting your hips to help. now you lift your head to watch what chris is up to. you feel tara's weight consume the bed next to your head but keep your eyes trained on the man between your legs. chris tosses your shorts aside before his hands find your thighs. painstakingly slow, his palms run up and down them, always close but never quite touching your aching cunt.

you begin to get impatient "chris. pl-" you're cut off by tara lightly grabbing your jaw and forcing your head back down against the bed. "shh. let him take his time honey" as she speaks she raises herself over your face, thighs now on either sides of your head. you open your mouth to argue but instead you're silenced by tara's folds pressing onto your lips.

well, you for sure weren't gonna argue with that. you forget about chris for now, wanting tara's taste in your mouth. your tongue darts out to experimentaly flick at her clit once before you completely dive in to suck on her needy bud.

tara whines from the lack of build up. she looks down at you admirably as your tongue works her "so good honey." she praises you. it hasn't even been a minute and your pussy drunk, you wanna make her keep telling you how good your doing, wanna pull more pretty noises. you're so completely consumed with her that you hadn't even noticed chris pulled your panties to the side until his fingers unexpectedly ran through your folds.

"so fucking soaked." chris states, admiring your soaked cunt. "yeah? you like being buried in me that much?" tara teases, staring down at you. to answer her, your tongue slips into her hole, nose stimulating her clit now. "orr she just wants to be touched, hm?" chris says with slight competitivness, his pointer finger just barely grazes over your clit. you buck your hips toward him for more but he uses his free arm to hold your waist to the bed.

tara scoffs, rolling her eyes even though neither of you can see it. "yeah sure" she mutters quietly in response to chris. he catches it though, "i'd watch your tone" chris warns her. before tara can respond, he thrusts his middle and ring fingers into you, elicting a moan. the vibrations of your moan travel straight into taras cunt, making her whine loudly.

chris watches with satisfaction at having affected both of you at the same time. although his cock is throbbing, he's more than happy to watch the sight infront of him and continue to toy and play with you. or both of you. his fingers are as deep as they go when he curls them upwards. you cry out, grabbing tara's hand with one of yours and her thigh with your other.

your tongue is still fucking her closer and closer to the edge. everytime chris forces out all your pretty little noises, they go straight into tara's cunt again and again.

her thighs begin suffocating the sides of your head. you don't mind at all. she rocks her cunt right into your face, whines spilling out of her. "i'm close" she voices, her thighs beginning to shake. "not yet, get off of her" chris demands. tara turns her head as far as it goes to look back at chris. "excuse me?" she questions him . chris's fingers pull out of you. you try to complain but it's muffled. they continue the conversation without you. "you're not cumming yet." he tells her. tara looks... offended? baffeled? she opens her mouth to complain but chris rolls his eyes and raises to his knee's so he can grab taras hips, lifting her off you.

you immedietly sit up, confused. tara's juices coat your chin and chris motions for you to come to him. "what. the. fuck?" you finally complain, looking between the two of them. "what she said" tara chimes in. chris turns tara to face him and lays back. he looks at tara then nods toward his lap. the sour look leaves her face and she smirks knowingly as she straddles his hips, already working at his belt.

chris's attention switches to you. "you wanna feel good again? hm?" he asks you with a slightly cocky smile. you nod. "cm'ere" he lures you over to sit on his face. while tara unbuttons and removes chris' pants.. you nervously place your thighs on either side of your friends face.

his middle and ring fingers return back to your aching hole to tease you again. he can sense your nervousness to lower yourself onto his mouth. "cm'on let me taste you" chris says, telling not asking as he looks up at you. you're looking anywhere but him. he groans frustratedly and decides to take matters into his own hands. he uses his free arm to wrap it around your thigh and pull you right down to his tongue. he wastes no time flicking the tip of his tongue up and down your clit rapidly. as if that wasn't enough, his fingers fill you right back up. you almost jump at the unsuspected and sudden pleasure. you push your cunt further onto his mouth for more. you look down to see his blue lustful gaze staring right back up at you while he smirks into your sopping cunt. you clench around his fingers just at the sight.

meanwhile, tara's teasingly pulling his boxers toward his thighs.

tara wants nothing more than to ride him like he had implied however, tara figured someone might as well return the favour that he's giving to you right now. she leans down and her hand wraps around his base at the same time her lips enclose his tip.

a whiny moan slips chris lips that makes tara amusedly giggle around his cock, causing him to let another noise slip. both of these go right to your clit. you grip chris' hair for support and in return he curls his fingers right up into your g-spot.

you throw your head back and begin attempting to rock your hips into chris' face. the arm that's around your thigh holds you still though and he begins curling his fingers the same way over and over, again and again. you whine and moan as your body tries again and again to rock against his grip on you. chris lips wrap around your clit now, nipping and sucking. your stomach twists with pleasure, you know what's coming if he keeps this up.

tara's mouth slides down his length, taking him in almost completetely. chris's teeth bite down on your clit in reaction. it's not hard enough to truly hurt but enough to shock you and almost tip you right over the edge.

chris releases your clit with a pop. his voice is shakier than he anticipated. "y-you wanna cum baby?" your friend asks as he looks up at you, your juices on his face with pussy drunk eyes. "mm- mhm" is all you manage. he gently slaps your thigh, making you whine. "lemme hear you say it" his fingers continue to curl into you.

"i w-wanna cum chris mm please" you beg him desperately as you clench around his fingers. there's a few seconds of silence that makes tears fill the corner of your eyes. "good girl. g-go ahead" he struggled to speak as the pleasure tara's tongue gave him was almost too much.

the 'good girl' was more than enough for you. you practically fold over, you would have if your headboard wasn't there to grab onto. your legs shake and your walls squeeze his fingers, your orgasm is already coming over you but then on top of it chris adds his mouth back to the mix, latching it back to your clit. "chris!" his name comes out high pitched. stars cloud your vision as you coat his fingers completely.

tara's mouth release's chris' cock. the bed shifts for a couple seconds and before he can process it, the warm walls of her cunt envelope him, sinking all the way to his pubic bone. chris moans into you again but this time it feels like too much. you tried to lift your hips off of him but he only pulls your pretty pussy right back to him. his fingers leave you but his tongue flattens against your hole, licking a long stripe from there till your clit.

"fuck chris!""fuck!" you and tara both whine out. your pleasure's from the overstimulation, hers from the way his cock hits all the right spots when she rocks on it. his dick twitching inside of her at the sound of both your pretty cries. when tara begins a steady and fast pace, chris couldn't help but subconciously try and fuck up into her. she leans back, her hands on his thighs to steady herself as her rythym became faster. both chris and tara let out noises. hers whiny and desperate, his lower and less often.

you couldn't hear either of them over the ringing in your ears from every muscle in your body shaking. because of your last orgasm, you were still very sensitive. this time all it took was chris's mouth sucking on your clit for and you were almost there again.

tara was finding friction for her clit from rocking it into chris' pelvis everytime her hips moved. her mouth was slack and she was hardly even moaning anymore. heavy breaths coming as her chest heaved. "fuck- i'm so close" tara mutters mostly to herself. you took a hand off the headboard to reach behind you, your hand reaching out behind you and she takes the hint, grabbing it. you both squeezed one anothers hands for support.

you guys weren't the only one's close. chris's dick was twitching inside your bestfriend and his hips start to stutter.

tara pushes her hips down harder onto her friend and the feeling was enough for the coil in her stomach to release. she cried out breathlessly and at the same time, your thighs squeeze chris's head as you dig your nails into tara's hand. your mind goes completely blank.

you remove yourself from chris's face, completely overstimulated. tara leaves his cock at the same time, red and leaking precum. chris looked at tara confused.. until she looks at you, then back to him.

you didn't notice this, you were sat next to chris, chest heaving while you catch your breath. "think you can take one more, babe?" tara speaks up but her voice is strained and raspy from all the gorgeous noises she had emitted just moments ago.

you looked at chris who was already looking at you. he looked pretty, sweat causing a few of his brown strands to cling to his forehead. despite looking a little fucked out, he still had an eagerness to him probably because he hadn't cum yet.

he got up into a seated position and reached out, hand going into your hair to pull you into him. his lips collided with yours feverishly whilst tara's fingertips teasingly graze his tip. he instantly swatted her hand away. she let him because they both knew he had other plans.

chris turned you around, positioning you on your knee's infront of him. your back pressed against his chest.

he used his knee's to seperate yours, shuffling them apart. tara came infront of you, on her knee's as well. she attatched her lips with yours while chris was positioning himself. your arm came around the back of her neck and the other reached behind you to go to the back of chris's neck as well.

chris brushes his tip against your clit. you instantly jerked your hips away from his from the overstimulating feeling. he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you back. you whine but he shushes you. "jus one more, yeah?" he assured right before his cock entered you, filling you up completely.

your lips left tara's to let out what was practically a scream. "shh honey" enphasizing her words, tara's hand clasps over your mouth. she lowered her head level to your tits before taking a nipple into her mouth. this makes you whine again, then again when chris's tip abuses your cervix without warning.

you're already so sensitive from his tongue and fingers just moments ago, his cock feels like too much but so good at the same time. "so good for us" chris praises before slamming into you again, making you scream into tara's hand. her other hand lands a light slap to your sensitive clit, making your hips jerk. you don't go far against chris' firm hold on you. "mm- g- cmm" even with taras hand shutting you up, they both know what you're saying.

chris mouth is now right next to your ear "not yet. you're gonna cum with me" he mutters to you. you shake your head, not thinking you're gonna last. "either you can fuckin wait for me or- fuck- or i'll make you take a fourth o-one" he threatens you. you shake your head in momentary panic. there's no way you're gonna cum for a fourth after this but if he makes you wait much longer to cum you aren't gonna have a choice but to finish before he allows you to.

tara continues to swirl her tongue around your nipple fiercly and as if you weren't already fucked dumb, her middle finger makes sudden contact with your clit, rubbing fast circles.

now you know that they're both just trying to fucking ruin you.

now you speak nonsense into her hand, making her smirk with amusement. "what's wrong honey, too much?" tara asks you with a faux-sympathetic pout. you aggresively nod your head. responding for tara, chris pulls you impossibly tighter against him, hips slamming harder into you. you yell into her hand and both of them smirk. "want us to stop?" she says teasingly, already knowing the answer but wanting to make sure. you instantly shake your head no.

her fingers still toy your clit and chris's pace slowly starts to falter. you can feel his breath on your neck becoming un-even. tara circles your sensitive bundle of nerves faster and you're sure your gonna be cumming before you're allowed.

luckily for you, the way chris holds your body tighter and his forehead drops to your shoulder says otherwise. "you gonna cum with me?" his voice is all low fucked out and it makes your walls squeeze him harder than ever. you nod, unable to speak for more than one reason. "go on then" he encourages along with a harsh slam of his hips. the second "go" left his lips your vision went white.

the next thing you were aware of was about 20 seconds after when his seed was spilling up into you to coat your walls. his forehead rested on your shoulder while he praised you on how good you were for him. "did so well" he said before gently kissing your shoulder while tara's fingers left your clit at the same time chris pulled out of you.

chris reached down next to your bed to retrieve everyones clothing for them. you had two bathrooms so you and tara headed off to one for a shower. chris to the other bathroom for the same reason.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you all returned to your room after, clean and in new clean clothes. (lucky for chris, nick hangs out here often and you love to steal his shit to wear for comfort.)

chris had entered just as you finished making your bed with fresh sheets. "better not have been fucking in there without me" chris joked as he made himself comfortable laying on your bed. you and tara both simultaniously rolled your eyes at him, scoffing. you both joined him on the bed to lie down.

you were in the middle of them. chris spooned you and you spooned tara, cuddling one another comfortbly way past awkwardness at this point. chris rubbed a relaxing hand up and down your side and you played with your other friends hair relaxingly. you should know better though, comfortable silence doesn't exist with chris around...

"guess what?"

you audibly sighed. "what?" tara and you groaned knowingly in unison.

there's a little grin on his face that neither of you can see, but nonetheless you both sense the ridiculousness. "i saw both your boobies" he says in a childish sing-song tone.

"oh my god" "are you fucking kidding me?"

i really hope y'all enjoyed. ᥫ᭡

tags: @daddyslilchickenfingers @fratbrochrisgf @mattsrod @sturncakez @sturniololovesss @sturniccc

#chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #tara yummy smut #sturnsdoll #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets fanfic #tara yummy #tara yummy fanfic #tara yummy x reader #sturniolo smut

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