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roomsofangel · 2 days

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LOVER, PLEASE STAY

chapter four

synopsis you and wooyoung have been best friends for as long as you could remember, always overcoming everything in your friendship even after a few bumps in the road and confessions in the past. you could always trust that no matter wooyoung will always be there, right?

wc 4.3k

chapter warnings mentions of drug usage, wooyoung and yn have an argument / wooyoung breaks down

a/n the fact i update this either everyday or every other day… but hope you guys dont mind </3 the next update will be a little slower due to work and trying to bag these ateez tickets with my partner 🙁

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ♥️

“something’s wrong with wooyoung," san mentioned one morning while handing you a dish from beside you that you started washing. you shifted your gaze away from the sink and water and towards him as he leaned against the counter. his side pressed on it a bit more as he continued, "i don't know... but, you notice it, too. don’t you?" his breath came out in an exasperated exhale as he waited for your response.

you gazed down, wanting nothing more than to just focus on how the warm water poured on your hands. the moment was quiet for a few minutes, and your mind raced with all kinds of thoughts. the uncertainty, the silence, and the tension between you and wooyoung recently that was becoming more apparent with every passing day. the strain was starting to wear on you, and that was obvious to everyone around you. “it’s hard not to.” you finally answered after a few minutes of silence, and your voice was solemn and tired.

san frowned at your response, and his expression became more concerned. you could sense the distress in his voice. "do you think we should intervene? what if he ends up like—?“ he started to say, but you interrupted him.

"don't." you said, and your tone was firm. you knew what he was going to say, and you didn't want to hear or think about it. your mind was already spiraling enough, and you didn't need him adding more to it.

san remained silent, looking at you with a mixture of concern and confusion. "but what if..." he began to say but stopped himself, realizing that you already knew. you had already considered that possibility, and it was not something you wanted to think about any further.

“just drop it, okay?" you said, your voice more firm than before as you tried to stop the spiral of thought that was quickly starting to take hold.

san sighed, and the silence that followed weighed heavier than before. "i talked to seonghwa too, you know," he mention. the statement felt somewhat out of place and sudden, and it only added to the tension that surrounded you both. you could sense the strain and stress building up in his words, and you wondered what else he knew or had heard.

"he's worried," san continued, "and so are the rest... they know something's up too. all of them do. but if they ask me, i don't know if i should tell them or not. i mean, it's wooyoung’s own business. i can't just let the secret slip, but.." his voice trailed off, and he let out a long, tired exhale.

"...that’s exactly the problem," san continued, "it’s his own business, but we're all worried about him. i mean, he hasn't been himself for a while now. he’s more reserved, more distant, and there is this strange tension between him and the rest of us. like he's hiding something, or he's just... not there. not fully there."

when you finally became aware of your grip on the dish, the dishes in front of you had already become clean. you were so lost in your thoughts, your head overflowing with memories and worries, that you had failed to notice the mundane task you were supposed to be doing. "i know.." you whispered, because you did. and it pained you that you couldn’t do anything but watch wooyoung destroy himself, or at least that's what it felt like.

"and... and it hurts," you continued softly, as if the admission was too painful for you to keep silent any longer. "it hurts to see him like this, to see him become something... someone that he's not. to see him shut himself off from all of us, to close himself in his own world and not let anyone else in. it’s painful and exhausting."

"he’s like a shell of himself," you went on. "i mean, he's still wooyoung, but... he's not at the same time. and i know i shouldn't say this... but it feels like we've lost him. like the wooyoung we all knew is gone, and there's just... this shell of a person left."

san nodded as he listened to you. he saw the pain and worry in your eyes, and he knew that you needed reassurance. so he held his arms out for you, inviting a hug. "it’s gonna be okay," he tried to reassure the both of you, but he didn't seem so sure himself. it was clear from his tone that he was just as worried, just as unsure. but he needed to remain strong, he needed to believe that things would work out. after all, it had to.

you laid in your bed, staring up at your ceiling and reminiscing over memories. they were just that, memories. it felt like ages ago, it felt like a whole different world. you were weeping over someone who was still alive, and it made no sense. how did you mourn for someone who was still standing in front of you, with a heart still beating? with a breath still being taken at regular intervals? with thoughts that were still running through their head, and feelings that were still taking place in their veins?

you tried to ignore the tears that were threatening to pour at any moment. everything in your room was a reminder of wooyoung and who he used to be. you could see him across the hall in his own bedroom, but...was that really still him? his demeanor seemed to have changed so dramatically that it no longer resembled the person you fell in love with initially. he was becoming someone else, someone you didn't recognize. and you didn't know if you could handle it anymore.

hearing your phone buzz, you shifted to your side to grab it and take a look. it was hongjoong’s text, asking if you wanted to come to see a movie with him and seonghwa. you recalled the last time you spoke with him, and remembered the intensity of the conversation. sure, he was deeply worried about you and was telling you things you needed to hear that night. but it only made you want to hide more since it meant you had to acknowledge more that you and wooyoung were no longer the same.

you wanted to continue living in the blissful bubble you had created where the two of you were fine, and nothing had changed. but the more time you spent in that space, the more the realities of the situation began to sink in, and the more the cracks in your bubble started to appear. so you avoided talking about the truth for as long as you could, until it got to the point where you could no longer deny it.

“that’s your problem, yn!” hongjoong looked at you with a concerned expression as he stood in front of you with san and seonghwa who matched the same energy. they had seen the situation unfold before enough times to know better than to intervene or get in the way when hongjoong was like this.

as he continued, he spoke louder, like he was trying to get through to you. "you give yourself away to people who keep shoving those parts of you back into your hands," he ranted, becoming more frustrated with each word.

you looked at him with teary eyes, knowing the truth but not wanting to face it. “i know this isn’t what you want to hear but you need to hear this, yn. because i don’t know if you know this but putting a light inside the house your soul died in will not stop it from haunting you.” hongjoong looked at you and his words hit deeper than you expected

"you need to let that light go," he continued, his voice becoming even more impassioned. "you need to let go of the pain, the anger, the sadness, and the guilt that you've held onto for so long. you need to come to terms with the fact that the house is empty, the light is gone, and it is time for you to move on."

when you stopped denying the truth, you began to see things clearer. hongjoong was right, you knew. "you need to let that light go," he had said, but the light he was referring to wasn't a literal one. it was... wooyoung. your best friend was the light you needed to let go of, to come to terms with the fact that it was gone and that you would never get it back.

"you’ve been hiding behind it for too long, too scared to let go," hongjoong persisted, "because if you let go, you would have to face the darkness that has clouded your mind, the feelings that you've been avoiding and refusing to acknowledge. it will be painful, it will be difficult. but it's the only way for you to truly heal."

you remained frozen in silence as hongjoong continued to speak, his words hitting home and piercing you with a truth that you had been actively avoiding. he was right, everything he said was true.

"hongjoong, that's enough," seonghwa’s gentle voice cut through the tension, calling for the confrontation to end. you glanced up and saw his reassuring hand placed gently on hongjoong’s shoulder.

"she’s dealt with enough," he continued. "she doesn't need to hear more, nor does she need to listen to any more harsh words."

as you spoke, your voice became thick, choked by the lump in your throat. "i just... don't want him to think i gave up on him."

"i don't want wooyoung to think i didn't give it my all..." your voice trailed off as you began to choke up. "but i..." you stopped, unable to continue as your tears continued to flow. "i just," you sighed, "i can't give up on him."

your voice cracked with every breath you took, and the tears continued to flow as the pain of realizing how impossible the situation had gotten began to sink in. "i know... i won't... give up on him," you whispered through your sniffles, your throat tight and your heart heavy.

later that night, you were cleaning up around the living space when you saw wooyoung stumbling in, clearly just waking up. you spoke softly to show that you knew he was there, and he grumbled in response. you exchanged a glance with him, noticing his disheveled appearance, and the dark circles under his eyes.

"are you alright?" you asked softly, his response was a grunt, followed by another grunt as he proceeded toward his room without a word. you followed him with your eyes, feeling guilty for asking him anything at all.

you watched as he stumbled back into his room, and a pang of guilt stabbed your heart. you knew he was going through a difficult time, and here you were asking him if he was okay. of course, he wasn't. and you knew that. but what else could you have done? you wanted to speak with him, to see him, to try and be there for him. but he didn't want to speak with you.

after he went into his room, you slowly continued cleaning up the shared space. you couldn't quite bring yourself to go to bed yet, even though you were exhausted. you took care to make sure things were as tidy and clean as they could be, despite the mess that was in your mind. your heart continued to ache with guilt and sadness for your best friend, and you wondered if there was anything you could have done to help him.

you decided to try one more time, gathering your courage and taking your time to slice his favorite fruits like you always did in the past when he was sad. you made your way into his dark room and saw that it was a mess, but you ignored the clutter and scattered clothing. you simply placed the plate of fruit on his bedside table and made a quiet retreat, just leaving the plate of fruit with him and not trying to talk to him again.

as you prepared to exit the room, your eyes scanned the entire space. your heart skipped a beat as your gaze landed on the small ziplock baggie in the corner. you tried to ignore it and pretend as if your mind was playing tricks on you. but you knew that it was real. you saw the tiny powder-like stains beneath the baggies, and you knew that it was more than just a reflection of the light.

you couldn't ignore the small pile of bags on the nightstand. instead, you found your eyes drawn to them, watching the glint of light off the powder-like stains beneath them. you knew what this was, and a chill ran down your spine as you finally accepted the truth. wooyoung's struggles were evident in the things he kept so hidden from you, the substance he kept close by.

it suddenly became very clear to you why wooyoung had been acting the way he had lately. his secretive behavior, the late nights, the withdrawn attitude. everything made sense now.

the truth hit you like a wave of ice-cold water. wooyoung had been using drugs. you had been blind to the signs and the warnings, but this was the confirmation you had been avoiding. and now, you couldn't avoid the reality anymore.

the shock slowly turned into sadness, like a weight settling in your stomach as you stood there, staring at the baggie of drugs on his nightstand. you were numb, frozen on the spot as you processed this revelation. wooyoung had always been so responsible, so sensible, so protective of you. never in a million years would you have imagined him turning to drugs to cope with his problems.

as you were about to leave the room, you were caught off guard by the sudden sound of wooyoung's voice. "you're... not supposed to see those," he rasped out, sounding exhausted and annoyed. you jumped a little at the sudden sound and his harsh tone, feeling like you'd been caught red-handed even though you knew you had every right to go into his room.

he sighed and sat up slowly, the mattress squeaking beneath his movement. "they’re just for me," wooyoung said in a low voice, his tone turning defensive. "they... they help me... cope," he continued, his voice trailing off at the end as he looked away from you. you noticed how he avoided your eyes, instead focusing on the floor below.

wooyoung’s words hung heavy in the air. they were clearly a crutch for him, helping him to cope with the pressures of life. but it was clear that they did little more than numb him. you watched as his eyes darted around the room as if he was nervous about something. his eyes flitted between the zipper bags on his nightstand, and he seemed like he wanted to say something more, but he stopped himself.

the tension in the air was palpable, and you could sense the heaviness in his breath. you couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind, what he wanted to say but couldn't.

“i can't let you keep destroying yourself, woo”, you said, your voice soft and compassionate. you didn't want to lecture him, you just tried your best to help him see the harm he was doing to himself. but he resisted your words, pushing back with his own defensiveness.

"please, just... let me have this," wooyoung said, a sharp edge to his tone. "don’t try and take this away from me, don't try and protect me. i’m fine, really. i can handle this," he snapped, his tone growing more frustrated. he didn't want you to interfere, didn't want you to try and protect him. he wanted to handle it on his own.

as you watched him, your heart broke even further. he wasn't fine, he wasn't handling it, he was using drugs to cope with his pain. and you were afraid of what would happen if he continued this way. wooyoung's eyes met yours, sharp with his anger, as he continued to resist your words. "don’t you trust me?" he said, suddenly looking more fragile than before.

"don’t you dare say that." you glared at him, feeling your anger rising as you struggled to control yourself. "you know i trust you, but i don't trust that..." you gestured to the baggies on his nightstand, your words heavy in the air. you could feel his defensiveness intensifying, a wall of bitterness rising as he felt he was being accused.

"you’re going to preach to me now, aren't you?" wooyoung glared at you, his frustration clear in his words. "tell me all about how drugs are bad, how they hurt our bodies, how they damage our brains, how they can't fill the void inside of us... is that what you're gonna say?"

wooyoung's glare was intense, his words dripping with hostility as he began to lash out. he knew how he used drugs to cope had been irresponsible and harmful, but he didn't want to be lectured about it. he felt defensive and angry, and he was not going to back down from this argument.

"so you just go right ahead and pretend as if it's not a problem." wooyoung continued, his frustration growing as he glared at you. "you know damn well that they help me cope, that they fill the void i feel inside of me. they make me feel numb, but at least i don't feel anything at all when i’m like this. so just let me have this, and stop trying to interfere."

you could feel your shoulders shaking, your eyes growing damp with tears as you looked at him. "what the hell happened to you, wooyoung?" you choked out the question, your throat clogging with emotion as you struggled to hold it together. you wanted to understand... you wanted to help him.

you saw his expression harden even further as he looked at you, his eyes no longer filled with anger, but rather something closer to contempt. as you choked back your tears, you realized that he seemed to think you were being dramatic. he didn't see the severity of his situation, didn't want to acknowledge that he was falling apart in front of you. your throat tightened as your eyes burned from the fight and the tears that were starting to fall.

you felt something growing inside of you as he stared at you with contempt. anger? hurt? you were feeling these emotions clash with one another as your eyes blurred with moisture. you wanted to yell that you cared about him, that you were just trying to help... but you knew it would fall on deaf ears. instead, you stayed silent, trying to hold back your sobs. it was like he didn't trust you anymore.

"oh... you're crying now, are you?" wooyoung said, his tone cutting and cold. "so you really do enjoy drama then, don't you? you want to try and make me feel worse than i already do, huh? well, you're not going to succeed, so save your tears for someone who cares."

his words stung, hitting everything that was vulnerable and painful inside you. you knew he knew what to say, which string he needed to tug on in order to hurt you the most. you tried to speak, but your voice shook and came out in a whisper. "stop." you tried to be stern, to defend yourself, but you knew that your defenses were crumbling away.

wooyoung smirked at you, and you wanted to slap him for the cruel way he was behaving. he seemed to be taking pleasure in the way he was hurting you, in the way he was tearing you down. he wasn't even hiding the fact that he knew exactly how to bring you down and tear you apart. he seemed to be enjoying it.

there was no holding back now, no restraint. your voice shot up in volume even as you tried to bite it back. "what have i ever done to you?" you looked at him, your eyes burning and your heart racing wildly. "what the hell have i done to deserve this?"

wooyoung stared at you, his eyes narrowing. he seemed to be considering the weight of your words, trying to decide if he wanted to answer honestly. after a moment, he seemed to just decide to be blunt with you. "you’ve never done anything to me," he finally replied simply.

"that's the thing," wooyoung said, his attitude finally starting to soften. "you haven't done a damn thing to me." he had finally stopped fighting back, and his tone had changed from one of anger and aggression to one that was just... tired.

"you’ve just... been there. being my friend. caring for me.. loving me." wooyoung’s voice cracked at the last word, and he seemed to be trying to control himself from breaking down.

"and what do you get out of it?" he took a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes. "me falling apart on drugs, making you cry, treating you like crap? is that what you deserve from your friend?"

he quickly cut you off when you began to open your mouth, stopping you from making any excuses for him. "don’t you start with the whole excuses for me, yn," he said. his tone was harsh, like a snapping order. he seemed to be trying to hold on to the last shred of his composure.

"please." his voice cracked on the last word, and his eyes suddenly filled with pain and sorrow. you could see the pain of his life finally coming to surface... the sadness and hopelessness that had been buried under the drugs and the denial finally coming back to haunt him.

he was so vulnerable, so fragile in this moment, and you couldn't help but feel heartbroken for him. the thought of him hurting like this, of him being so miserable and lost and alone, all because of the drugs and the denial, was unbearable. you wanted to reach out and comfort him, to hold him close and wipe away his pain, but you didn't know how.

"i know i’m not perfect, i know i’ve done things... i’ve hurt you..." wooyoung’s voice cracked and he paused, trying to collect himself. "i just... i’m so tired. i’m so tired of fighting, of trying to keep things together, of being in pain..."

he looked at you, and his eyes were filled with raw emotion.

"i don't want to give up on us," he continued. "you’ve been here for me... through everything... please don't give up on me."

wooyoung seemed to be opening up to you again, letting his walls down and showing you the real him. the one who was tired, scared, and scared of losing you. the one who was afraid of being alone. he looked at you, begging you to stay with him, not to give up on him like everyone else. he needed you.

“i can’t give up on you even if i tried,” your voice was quiet as you spoke this to him

"i know you can't give up on me, but i just don't know if i can... keep on like this." he seemed so miserable and exhausted, like he was on the brink of collapse. "i’m so tired," he continued, his voice shaking. "so tired of all the stress and anxiety and the fear of what's to come... i just..."

he paused again, as if trying to find the words to say all the things he was feeling. "i just don't have the strength to do this anymore," he finally admitted. "i’m tired of carrying all this weight on my shoulders, of pretending like everything is okay, when it's not... i’m just... i’m so fucking tired."

the words were pouring out of him, as if he had been holding them inside for a long time. the exhaustion and the pain, the weight and the worry, the fear and the grief... it was all finally coming out. his voice cracked, and he seemed to be fighting back the tears that were welling in his eyes.

wooyoung broke down finally, sobbing as his arms tremblingly folded around his torso. his body was racked with a mixture of sadness and pain, as he let the weight of his emotions finally take over. "i don't want to drag you down with me," he said, his voice trembling. "but i’m so damn selfish. you see, i’m so selfish that..." his words were beginning to be muffled, and he seemed to be struggling to continue.

"i don't want to lose you," he suddenly mumbled, his cheeks soaked with tears. "i’m so selfish that i don't want to let you go, that i keep dragging you down with me even though i know it's destroying you too... i know it's wrong, i know it's so damn selfish, but i can't let go..."

wooyoung was crying hard, openly and unapologetically. he was a mess of emotion, of hurt and fear and sorrow and pain. he didn't like the way he was hurting you, but he didn't know how to stop. he was stuck in this cycle of self-destruction, and he couldn't see a way out.

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taglist @special4u @vampzity @jwone @dulceeed @fantasy2wonderland @fixedonlove

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sluckythewizard · 1 month

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SHHH SH HEYYY HEY DONT TELL ANYONE BUT... ive been workin on smth since BITB came out..... itsa lil musical animatic involvin kian and becky.... ITS NO WHERE NEAR DONE YET but loooook look im puttin lil screenshots under the cut. its supposed to go along with Am I In Heaven? by King Gizzard n the Lizard Wizard. infact yknow what cmere come sit with be bc ALOT of songs from the 'IM IN YOUR MIND FUZZ' album makes me think about becky and kian. oh my god. those two make me so damn emotional. like Her and I was the first one to rly resonate with me, and EMPTY was another good one, all just stuff about. yknow LOVE!! doomed by the narrative yet burning SO SO brightly in its last moments, holding hands, playing music, THEY WERE SO IN LOVE WITH YOU THAT THE COPY OF THEM LOVED YOU, AND YOUR COPY LOVES THEM TOO. WHAT A BEAUTIFUL, CRUMBLING, BURNING, HISSING, SQUIRMING, MELTING, CLICKING LOVE STORY..

GET OVER HERE N SCREAM WITH MEEE I LOVE SCREAMING ABOUT THINGS

#THIS IS A DRAFT that i made like. months ago. woopsie.#BUT IM CHIPPING AWAY AT IT AGAIN. IT CANT STAY UNFINISHED FOREVER. ONE DAY YOU WILL ALL SEE! YOULL ALL SSSEEEE!!!!!!!#no reblogs either this stays between US!!!!!!!!!!#and if you guys like it enough i might post an old fuckin wip i have all packaged together on youtube. its a VIDEO it goes w the MUSIC!!#SOUND WITH THE MOVING IMAGE?? IVE ONLY EVER DONE IT ONCE!!!#ill post the Lord of Lightning animatic i made on tumblr when i get the chance. in the meantime i ahve it posted on twitter. GO FETCH #but THIS SECOND ONE is out there.. all synced together..#but its a wip and its rough and old and scuffed and i HATE IT. my son whom i wish was dead #but you can see it. for the small small price of uh. begging.#also ouuhh my god i love becky and kian so much... they make me so emotional.. SOMETHING ABT DOOMED SHIPS...#even as the boat sinks these two clung together so tightly. they really really did love eachother so much. even after ten years of ROTTING #of sitting and waiting and wondering 'where is she?' is she lost? hurt? did something happen? is she okay? did she even want to be here?#does she hate me? did she leave because she hated me? she never wanted to see me again? where is she? where is she? guess ill write a song #FOR TEN YEARS. when i was just busy. i was distracted. so much came up. things got serious. my dream became clear and i had to chase it #i didnt know you were waiting. im sorry. i should have chased the thought of you more. but i was busy. i was just busy.#i wish that i could apologize with the throat that was my own. i hope this copy will suffice. i hope this copy will suffice. UGH

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felixschokehold · 1 year

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Not me giving Felix an absolutely fucking tragic, heartbreaking backstory of being one of the most fierce and notorious fighters in his country’s history [I’m cheesy and thinking of making his origins in/near Sparta]. Aro, after hearing the tales of this great warrior, approaches him with the allure of power. After Felix rejects it, Aro orchestrates the massacre and absolute destruction of Felix’s people. Aro approaches Felix a second time and when he says no again, he bites Felix, knowing he’d run to the mountains nearby to not hurt his people, and while he was turning, Aro mounted a full scale attack so that Felix wouldn’t be able to save his people or his family. He would have nothing to come back to. And that was the true story of how Sparta’s reign ended.

So when Felix gets his thirst under control and he returns home, his entire village is burnt to the ground and the bodies of men, women, and children lay scattered and in pieces everywhere. Days later, Aro returns and acts shocked over the situation and then uses Chelsea’s power to bind Felix to him and uses Corin to force Felix to feel okay to be with the Volturi and to not have any suspicions.

My OC Elise is going to have some gripes with all of the atrocities Aro has committed and I’m excited to see what I’ll have her power to develop to be in order to take Aro and Caius out of the equation. Aro is going to end up hating her because she’s bringing out Felix’s memories and emotions he nearly completely forgot centuries ago and it’s going to make him angry and it’ll be too late for Chelsea to sever any bonds because Elise and Felix will be too romantically bonded by then.

Ah, the struggles of trying to figure out general history of a certain area to give an already existing character a history because the author couldn’t be fucked to give any god damn information about them lmfao thanks Smeyer

#i literally am sobbing as i'm writing the outline for this #holy fuck #why do i do this to myself lmfao #i don't necessarily HATE the volturi #i don't particularly like them either #lol #well kinda #i mean my issues lie with caius for obvious reason and also aro for way more obvious reasons #the others i cannot and do not blame so heavily bc aro is literally using chelsea and corin during recruitments #to force bonds to break between their targets and then force bond to be tied to volturi #and then forcing members to feel content enough to stick around #as im typing this im realizing this is basically mind control forced slavery and now i hate aro even more #if you cant create a space people (or vamps in this case) to WANT to stay then youre toxic lmao #bye #reblog #own post #my post #future fanfic #fanfic #felix #felix new moon #felix volturi #volturi #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #short second life of bree tanner #wow this got way dark huh lmao #ope

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jadevine · 4 months

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Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

Update March 1, 2024: Hey there folks, here's yet another update! I reposted Part 2a (the "medieval warhorses" tangent) to my writing blog, and I went down MORE of the horse-knowledge rabbit hole! https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/741423906984951808/my-post-got-cut-off-so-i-added-the-rest-of-it Update Jan 30, 2024: Hey folks, I've posted the updated version of this post on my blog, so I don't have to keep frantically telling everyone "hey, that's the old version of this post!" https://thebalangay.wordpress.com/2024/01/29/preindustrial-travel-times-part-1/

I should get the posts about army travel times and camp followers reformatted and posted to my blog around the end of the week, so I'll filter through my extremely tangled thread for them.

Part 2 - Preindustrial ARMY travel times: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask

Part 2a - How realistic warhorses look and act, because the myth of "all knights were mounted on huge clunky draft horses" just refuses to die: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/732043691180605440/helpful-things-for-action-writers-to-remember

Part 3 - Additional note about camp followers being regular workers AND sex-workers: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/740604203134828544/reblogging-the-time-looped-version-of-my

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance" per day. For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND, so by the time you're done slogging through drier patches of wetlands or squeezing through trees, a deceptively short 10-15 miles in rough terrain might take you a whole day to walk instead of the usual half-day.

If you are traveling in freezing winters or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

Traveling in TOO-HOT weather is just as bad, because pushing yourself too hard and getting dehydrated at noon in the tropics will literally kill you. It's called heat-STROKE, not "heat-PARTY."

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

—

UPDATE January 13: Several people have gotten curious and looked at maps, to find out how a lot of cities are indeed spread out at a nice distance of 20-30 miles apart! I love getting people interested in my hyperfixations, lol.

But remember that this is the space between CITIES AND TOWNS. There should never be a 20-mile stretch of empty wilderness between City A and Town B, unless your world explains why folks are able to build a city in the middle of nowhere, or if something has specifically gone wrong to wipe out its supporting villages!

Period pieces often portray a shining city rising from a sea of picturesque empty land, without a single grain field or cow pasture in sight, but that city would starve to death very quickly in preindustrial times.

Why? Because as Bret Devereaux mentions in his “Lonely Cities” article (https://acoup.blog/2019/07/12/collections-the-lonely-city-part-i-the-ideal-city/), preindustrial cities and towns must have nearby villages (and even smaller towns, if large and prosperous enough!) to grow their food for them.

The settlements around a city will usually be scattered a few miles apart from each other, usually clustered along the roads to the city gates. Those villages and towns at the halfway point between cities (say 10-15 miles) are going to be essential stops for older/sick folks, merchants with cargo, and large groups like noble’s retinues and army forces.

Preindustrial armies and large noble retinues usually can’t make it far past 10-12 miles per day, as denoted in my addition to this post. (https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask )

#writing #preindustrial #horse riding #horse care #writing advice #medieval

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navybrat817 · 1 month

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Sergeant Snuggles

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky wants you to get some much needed rest. Word Count: Over 1.6k Warnings: Fluff, swearing, humor, reader is tired, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best boyfriend, okay?). A/N: I'm tired. I want Bucky to fix my schedule. Again! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You should’ve taken the afternoon off. You knew that. There was no reason for you to remain in the building beyond your earlier debriefing. The mission you completed was successful, but you hardly slept over the last few days because of it. Describing yourself as tired was an understatement.

But you had a tendency to stretch yourself thin at times and were stubborn, a trait Bucky both loved and fought you on.

The beautiful brunette you were lucky enough to call your boyfriend leaned over in his chair as you stifled a yawn. “That’s the fifth time you’ve done that in the last two minutes,” he whispered low enough to not draw attention.

“Glad you’re keeping count,” you whispered back, feeling his steel eyes linger on you as before he turned his focus back to Steve. At least he didn’t say he told you so after you turned down his suggestion this morning to call in.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, the stubble on his strong jawline catching your attention. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. Hardly slept either. Still looked gorgeous.

How was that fair?

“Just take a break,” he urged, tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear. “It’ll help.”

“No, I’m fine,” you argued, picking up your drink and downing the rest of it, as if it would give you a boost. “We have a busy day. I don’t have time to use one of the pods.”

S.H.I.E.L.D. had recently built a lounge area for agents to rest and recoup during the day and between missions. Some of the pods were large enough for two people to rest comfortably together. Why not cuddle with your soldier for a short time? As nice as it sounded, you had to get through a few more hours of work.

“I love you, but you’re about two seconds away from putting your head on the table,” Bucky whispered, your heart skipping a beat. It did that whenever he professed his love for you. But you were also feeling a bit grouchy, even though he was only trying to help

“And I love you, but I’m about two seconds away from flipping this table,” you hissed before Steve cleared his throat. “Sorry,” you added sheepishly. It wasn’t his fault the mission cost you precious sleep.

The blonde’s brow furrowed. Like Bucky, he knew you pushed yourself too hard some days. You had to though. You weren't a super soldier like they were. “It’s okay,” he said before he continued.

Exhaustion veiled your normally bright and attentive gaze. The Captain had a commanding presence, yet your eyelids drooped as he kept talking. You weren’t sure if you were able to fall asleep sitting up and you didn’t want to find out. With a shake of your head, you had to try and fight the waves of drowsiness that crashed in your mind and washed over your body.

It was a losing battle. You used to laugh at memes that talked about meetings that could’ve been done in an email, but it didn’t seem so humorous now that you were living it. Why didn't you just stay home?

You jolted when your boyfriend suddenly placed his hand on your thigh and you wished you could say you blamed it on his touch. “What? What happened?” You asked. Did you fall asleep or just zone out?

“The meeting’s over,” he replied, nodding to the now empty room. You hadn’t seen anyone walk out. That wasn’t good.

“Shit.” You rubbed your temple, an ache building in your head. You’d have to apologize to Steve later because there was no way you retained anything he stated. “What time is it?”

Bucky checked his watch with a slight frown. “It’s 10:55.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s lip twitched in a smile when you realized you said that out loud. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.”

You huffed, your head cloudy again before you slumped in your chair. There was no way you’d make it through the day, as much as you wanted to try. You were useless in this condition. “Okay. I may need a nap,” you admitted.

He smiled softly as he pushed his chair back and held out his hand. “I had a feeling. That’s why I booked us one of the pods before we got here,” he said. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. He knew you better than you knew yourself. “Let's go.”

You pouted, but took his outstretched hand. “Are you sure I can't just try and suck it up?” You asked, covering your mouth with your other hand when you yawned yet again. “There’s still work to do.”

“And you're not going to finish it right this second,” he stated firmly, the drop in his voice making your throat go dry. He meant business when he used that tone. “You're going to let everyone else handle it, and they can handle it, and you are going to get some rest.”

You loved this man for putting up with and caring for you. “Yes, Sergeant, but I still don't want a nap,” you grumbled, wondering just how whiny you sounded.

He chuckled, the sound making you giggle. It was infectious. “Just twenty minutes. It’s all I'm asking for to start. You worked hard and deserve a nap,” he said, sneaking a soft kiss in when you pouted again. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me? Please?”

Something vulnerable flashed in his eyes before he blinked it away. Nightmares still plagued him and you discovered that he rested easier with you beside him. Your presence didn’t always chase the horrors away, but it helped. Maybe he needed this nap just as much as you did.

What kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

“Okay, Bucko. For you,” you smiled, leaning into his side as he guided you down the hall. You’d do anything for him. “You know, my caffeine let me down,” you added.

“I know, baby.”

“It’s a betrayal. It was supposed to stimulate me,” you mumbled.

“I know, baby,” he said again, going along with your tired rambling. “But we both know I stimulate better than that ever could.”

“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. He was very good at that. “And this is a good excuse for us to cuddle.”

“As long as you get some sleep, you can have all the cuddles you want,” he promised.

A tired smile touched your lips. “I should call you Sergeant Snuggles.”

It was at that moment that Sam walked by, the smirk on his face telling you that he at least caught the nickname you just came up with. Your gaze flickered to Bucky’s profile, catching the clench in his jaw as he stared at his colleague and friend. It was a sexy look, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. And Sam, the good man he was, didn't say a word. He nodded and went on his way.

Which likely meant he pocketed the nickname to bring up at a later time.

“Sorry,” you whispered, hoping you hadn’t embarrassed him.

Fondness took over Bucky's blue eyes when he swung his gaze back toward you. “Don't be sorry. You can call me whatever you want,” he assured you, taking you into the longue.

The low light created a peaceful atmosphere and you found yourself longing for relaxation as Bucky brought you to the pod furthest in the corner. He helped you in before he climbed in beside you, his massive frame making you feel safe and warm as he held you against him. His fingers moved along your back in a slow and soothing pattern and your breathing began to match his after a minute. It made it easy for your eyes to slip shut.

You still couldn’t believe that you had someone in your life like Bucky. The man did everything in his power to put your needs first and make sure he took care of you. Not because he didn’t think you were strong or capable enough to do so yourself, but because he recognized that you didn’t have to do everything alone. That was why he was your partner.

In work, in love, and in life.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you sighed, wishing you were awake enough to say how much you appreciated him. “Sorry for whining and bitching and being stubborn.”

“You don’t need to thank me and you didn’t whine or bitch. I’ll give you stubborn though,” he said, casually tossing a leg over you before you could move away. If you asked it of him, he’d lay on top of you like a blanket. “Just get some sleep and don’t push yourself today, please. I’ll feel a lot better if you relax.”

You’d feel a lot better, too. “One more question and I will.”

He hummed as he waited for you to speak.

“What's the policy on sex in the pods?” You asked, resting a hand on his chest and feeling his heart start to race. “For future us, for the record. I love you, but we’re not trying somnophilia here today.”

He exhaled a laugh against your forehead before he kissed it, warmth spreading like a balm through your head. “I love you, too,” he whispered. Dragging his lips down to yours. “And I’m sure we can find a way to make it work, but not until you rest, okay? Need you at one hundred percent for that.”

“Yes, Sergeant Snuggles,” you replied, feeling him hold you a little tighter before you finally got some much needed sleep.

I hope this reads well. 🤣 I'm le tired. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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1-800-kami · 8 months

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R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it.

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)

content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)

author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.

this fic IS split into two parts (update: part two is now out!! linked here 2 read) and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

“so… let me get this straight.”

“go ahead.”

shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”

“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”

“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment.

“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”

“do you… do you share any classes with him?”

“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”

“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.

all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.

it’s hard to forget about gojo.

not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…

...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.

the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.

“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”

speak of the devil.

there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.

you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface.

“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.

you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.

pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-

“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”

“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”

your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.

“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”

“what did you just call me?!-”

“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”

“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.

“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

“how could i not? you’re so cute.”

“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.”

the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.

he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.

when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”

he’s relentless. “why do you care?”

“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”

you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space—always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”

“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“

“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them.

some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side.

“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words.

“i don’t need your money…”

“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow.

“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”

that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”

“do you promise? like, actually?”

“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.

“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.

“i also want your number.”

you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.

“what do you have me saved as?”

the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.

you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.

“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“

“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”

“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“

“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”

“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.

“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone.

he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.

“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“

the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.

from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think.

gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.

you push him away.

everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.

you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.

and that thought alone scares you.

still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone.

the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.

“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”

“satoru-“

“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.

“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”

you take back everything you just said.

a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”

he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..”

“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”

“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.

“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family.

you try to ignore how that makes you feel.

and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater.

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again.

and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.

you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.

the reason why you want to stick around too.

you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?”

“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.

you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.

it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.

you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.

it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.

shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.

the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.

it was your ex.

your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes.

if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind.

you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.

out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.

“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom.

“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.

“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”

you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.

“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”

your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”

“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”

“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.

you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.

you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.

the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.

“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”

you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”

“oh, don’t even get me started.”

he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”

“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”

he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”

“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.

the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?”

you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”

“kento nanami.”

“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.”

“i’m just doing my job.”

“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”

“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”

“y/n l/n.”

“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”

“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”

“did something happen?”

“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”

“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

he gets to the cafe in five.

you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car.

it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru.

however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”

your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.

“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-”

“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.

“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side.

you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”

still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.

i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.

“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.”

that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.

the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?

“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look.

“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”

“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”

“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”

you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“

“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid.

“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”

“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.

“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”

he cuts you off. “you… what?”

you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.

“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.

this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.

“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.

you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”

gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.

a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.

“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”

he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand.

“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.”

he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“thank you, toru.” you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you.

he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.

“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.

“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already.

gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”

“hmph. alright.”

“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”

“satoru!”

“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”

this night is going amazing.

when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here.

“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.

it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.

“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.

“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.

“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink.

“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”

“oh? do tell.”

“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”

“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”

“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”

“hey, i wanted to know more!-”

“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”

“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you.

suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”

“duh. it’s a classic.”

“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight.

suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.”

satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”

you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.”

he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”

“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again.

you wish you never did.

you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.

on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.

fuck.

you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.

what bullshit that was.

your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.

so you do.

you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.

of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.

stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.

when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?

he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.

he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.

they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”

“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.

“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”

he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.”

“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”

geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.

“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.

gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.

part 2 ;)

#kami writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru comfort #gojo x reader angst #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x y/n

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tohokuu · 1 year

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there’s only one bed left - tengen, akaza, rengoku, giyuu

REBLOG MY WORK.

warnings : suggestive, fluff, smut in giyuu’s

a/n : they’re so cute and fluffy i love and omg k want this to happen to me so bad. also, can you guys tell i love akaza???

TENGEN

you and your current boyfriend had offered to take you on a vacation to turkey. you agreed, happily ready to see the mountains and planes of turkey. upon arrival at the hotel, tengen took both of your suitcases, handing them to the bus boy that was at the door to carry your luggage for you.

“tengen, i could’ve held it.” you insisted. he shook his head. “it’s not very flashy.”

you raised an eyebrow, sighing and giving up because there was never any good reason to argue with him and win.

you two walked up to the reception, a kind old man standing behind the counter.

“a reservation for uzui tengen, please.” tengen crooned. his body seemed giddy and the hair on his arms rose. maybe he was cold?

the bus boy carried your luggage onto a cart. you felt bad for him. no one was helping him and he was pushing a card with a total of 12 suitcases with him. he couldn’t see ahead of him but neither tengen helped him, nor did he allow you to.

you pursed your lips, hoping the awkward silence would pass by quickly in the elevator.

at the ding of the elevator, you all stepped out and tengen was gracious enough to carry 4 suitcases on his own, not even breaking a sweat.

his work out routine was rough.

upon arrival, you looked into the large spacious king suite. two beds settled into each side of the room, 5 feet of space between both of them.

tengen walked through the threshold in shock. the smile on his face replaced with a shocked and confused expression.

he threw his arms out forward, bending and looking at the two beds.

“what the fuck!? i asked for one bed!”

AKAZA

“there’s only one room left and it’s got a single queen sized bed.” the receptionist said as she looked up at you and akaza.

you and him turned to look into each others eyes, dumbfounded expressions on your face.

“uhm… are you sure there aren’t any more?” he asked her. she shook her head. “i’ve checked twice, sir. this is the only room available. there will be more later tomorrow.”

you observed your situation. would you drive through the pouring snow for another hour for the next hotel, or sleep in your car and risk freezing to death?

what could you do? because you’d rather sleep on the edge of a volcano than sleep in the same bed as akaza.

not that you hated him or anything. it was his sheer attractiveness that pulled you in. he was so handsome and so sweet and respectful, but he was also strong and kind.

there was nothing to dislike and that’s exactly what bothered you. you liked him.

so how could you be able to handle sleeping with him??

“does the room come with a couch?” he asked. the receptionist shook her head.

“i’m afraid not, sir. there’s only one room available with one bed.”

akaza sighed and looked at you. “we can stay if you’d like, or i can go find a different hotel .” he quickly offered. you shook your head.

“it’s too cold, akaza. just stay here, we’ll figure it out.”

just like that, you two are forced to be in close proximity together. akaza had tried to take the floor but the cold marble was freezing and you’d rather not make him suffer through that.

so your next option was to sleep together with pillows put in between you two as a barrier.

the silence was awkward.

there was so much tension, it could have been cut with a knife. sleep wouldn’t come easy either, you were too stressed … and a little bit hot.

“akaza, it’s hot in here.” you whined. he sighed, knowing it was because the hotel had racked the heater up so high and the pillows and blankets you used to separate yourselves wasn’t helping.

“let’s get rid of the pillows, then.” there was hesitation in his voice. he wasn’t completely sure if you’d be okay with taking the pillows down. you sighed, thinking with your cunt instead.

“it’s perfectly fine.” you smiled, leaning back on your elbows as you stared at him from across your little wall.

the pillows were thrown on to the floor by the both of you in a comical manner. you pushed the comforter down a bit, revealing your tiny shorts and crop top.

this felt a lot better.

but akaza warmed up. he realized how close to naked you were lying next to him on this big bed. what was to stop him if he wanted you?

his brain, of course.

“can we cuddle?” he asked. his voice was filled with that same hesitation from earlier. you turned your head to look at him.

“what?” you asked.

even in the moonlight, you could see the redness of his cheeks and the way his long lashes fluttered over his blue eyes.

“nothing, i-… i just-“

your wave of confidence washed over you as you turned towards him, hooking one leg over his waist and wrapping your arms around his neck.

his body was frigid. he didn’t know what to do. your own was excruciatingly hot because how on earth did you manage to do this?

a moment of silence and pure awkwardness passed by until his arms wrapped around you, a little bit tighter as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

“you smell good.” you two whispered at the same time. a laugh booming into the air as you realized your mistake. he laughed too, eyes shutting closed while peacocks formed at the corner of his eyes.

he looked back at you, smiling in content in this position he got himself in.

a hand trailed up your neck and as if the world has slowed down and the wind had began to blow, you felt the searing touch of akaza’s lips slot against yours.

you whimpered into his mouth, kissing back with just as much passion. he held onto your face he tenderly, cradling it as though you might break.

“i like you.” he whispered against your lips.

“i like you more.”

RENGOKU

“rengokuuuu!!” you wailed. he turned to look at you, his eyebrows knitted in concern.

“what happened, y/n?” the orange haired male asked.

you pouted, explaining to him that there was only one cabin left and the cabin only had one bed. rengoku smiled as if there were no issues. “that’s quite alright. i can take the couch!”

you shook your head. “no, absolutely not. i’d feel terrible.” the smile never faltered from his face. he was an endless ray of sunshine that kept you warm for days.

“don’t worry, my dear y/n. we’ll figure it out. don’t worry.”

you wondered how he’d ended up in your bed. he was shirtless, hair sprawled out messily on the pillowcase and his abs were on full display.

you lay against him, his arm pulling you over his chest. then you looked down…

‘why am i fucking naked??’

rengoku was also naked… does that mean you two?..

you looked in the corner at the empty bottle of whiskey. your face felt impossibly hot but a wet feeling erupted in between your legs at the idea of rengoku being the one to pleasure you.

still, you sat there in shock. how could you have spent a night with rengoku and not even remember it?! this was absolutely atrocious.

“good morning, my flower.” a voice interrupted your thoughts. it was deep, coming from the broad chest of the man you slept with last night.

“g-good morning, rengoku…” you replied, swallowing an awkward lump in your throat.

“rengoku, did we… did we fuck last night?” you asked him sheepishly, holding the bed spread tightly to your chest. he looked confused, still half asleep.

he peered one eye open, looking to check if he was nude.

he was.

with that, he shot up. a blush enflamed his cheeks. what the fuck..he thought.

“n-no.. i didn’t just fuck you for the first time and not remember it.” he whined, worry deeply set in his voice. you calmed him down, rubbing a soft hand up and down his chest.

“we have many more opportunities to make love again.” you reasoned. you had been with the man for just a few months, wanting to take it slow and surely not sleep with each other until you were both ready but this… this was quite different than what you planned.

“i know, but angel, this was the first time.” he whined softly.

you pulled his head onto your chest. running your fingers through his hair, trying to get him to stop being mean to himself.

“it’s okay, baby.” you cooed. “we have all the time in the world, don’t worry.”

“well in that case…you wanna go round 2 right now?”

GIYUU

“there’s only one room left, sir.” the receptionist called out. giyuu sighed. “we’ll take that one.” he didn’t give you much of a choice. dragging your luggage and his with him up the elevator, he hadn’t said a word.

you figured he was already quite annoyed about the pompous amount of rain outside. you two were traveling for a meeting and the rain had delayed both of you. it bothered him endlessly that he was going to miss such an important meeting.

you chose not to speak, not wanting to irritate the quiet male.

he set down your luggage on the side, next to the bed. his clothes came off next. jacket, sweater and a black tank top that he chose to leave on. he took off his jeans, lounging around in plain black boxers.

“take the bed. i’ll be fine on the couch.” he grumbled. you nodded, heading to the bathroom to change into something more comfortable to sleep in.

you walked back out in a large t shirt and panties. you figured it didn’t matter much because your t shirt was so big that it reached the middle of your thigh, anyway.

but giyuu saw. he was turned towards you when you reached down to put your phone on charging, your ass on clear display for him.

he breathed sharply through his nose. it was simply a bad idea to even have turned facing your direction. he felt his dick semi-hard.

turning around, he ignored it, choosing peace instead.

it was later that night that something woke him up. was it the rush of heavy rain? the hotel telephone? or … heavy breathing coming from your side of the room.

he quietly listened, steadying his own breathing.

his eyes widened as he heard everything that fell from your lips, dick straining against his boxers.

fuck.

you were touching yourself… to the thought of him.

the mewls were hushed, doing your best to keep quiet. the air was hot and heavy and when he slowly peeked to look over, he saw you with your legs spread. they stretched far apart as your pretty pussy was on display. he could hear how wet you were, fingers sloshing around in the mess inside of you.

“g-giyuu…” you breathed heavily. he couldn’t help but trail his own hand to his cock, rubbing it uncomfortably against the palm of his large hands.

“f-feels so good.” you whined softly.

he could only imagine. he could think of 10 different ways that he could make you cum. 10 different ways to make you go stupid and crying for him and his cock.

he rutted against his palm harder, trying to keep the grunts of pleasure in. he was so close to his orgasm, just needed a bit more, and you gave it to him.

“ ‘m gonna cum so hard,, g-giyuu..” you cried softly, the tears in your voice apparent.

then what giyuu got up, trailing his way to your bed. he pulled the covers farther down, revealing your calves.

your eyes shot open as you stopped, the pleasure long gone.

“g-giyuu, this isn’t what it looks like- i swear!” you shouted.

he put a hand over your mouth.

“shut up, i’ll take care of you now.”

REBLOG MY WORK.

taglist form.

©️ tohokuu. do not steal or plagiarize.

#akaza smut #rengoku smut #giyuu smut #tengen smut #akaza x reader #rengoku x reader #giyuu x reader #tengen x reader #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #kny smut #kny x reader #akaza x y/n #rengoku kyojuro #giyuu headcanons

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thetriumphantpanda · 2 months

Text

new perspective | joel miller

Summary | the summed wedged between finishing your undergraduate degree and starting on your graduate programme just got a lot better when Joel Miller turns out to feel exactly the same about you as you do to him.

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.7k

Warnings | Explicit Smut. dbf!Joel makes his return on my blog, mentions of food and alcohol, Joel being competent and fixing stuff, the classic dbf trop of a cookout, sex while your parents are around, oral sex (f), masturbation (m), unprotected PiV, talk of contraception, dirty talk, praise kink, THE RETURN OF MIRROR SEX BY THETRIUMPHANTPANDA, no outbreak au, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | I missed dad's best friend Joel so I wrote him :) I hope you like him. This is a standalone but I won't rule out adding more in this universe if y'all like it. I have to shoutout @hellishjoel for talking me through how to make a moodboard so beautifully, thank you honey! If you like this, consider reblogging/commenting/leaving asks for me - it really helps!

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for my writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The incessant dripping of the kitchen tap is driving you insane. You’d come back to Texas for the summer to relax. Hoping to leave behind shoddy workmanship that your landlord refused to fix because he would do it when you moved out, ready for the next lot of college kids to come in. If your dad had mentioned the dripping kitchen tap, the creaky floorboards on the stairs and the issue with water pressure that meant showering took longer than necessary, maybe you’d have stayed where you were.

“Someone’s comin’ to take a look at that later,” He’d said on his way out to work that morning, head tilting towards the kitchen, “Should be here after lunch.”

You’d waved him off, barely looking up from the book you were reading, legs outstretched on the couch with your notepad and pen resting on the arm. Wasn’t much of a summer when you were going straight from your undergraduate degree into a graduate programme.

As the day moved on, the heat got worse. Glasses of ice water turning lukewarm before you had a chance to cool down. The patio door open, hoping for a breeze every now and then, but finding no reprieve. The ice pop doesn’t even help that much, melting too quickly before you had a chance to enjoy it.

It’s pushing 2pm when there’s a knock at the door. Reading material and notepad pushed onto the floor, trash TV on in the background as you try not to sweat to death. It takes you a minute to register the noise, so long that whoever it is here to look at the tap knocks again.

You pull open the door, wincing when the heat of the sun being let in sinks across your skin. The change in light means it’s a few seconds before your eyes adjust to who it is standing in front of you. Joel Miller.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him. He’s been busy, according to your dad, building his business with Tommy. Lots of out of town trips now Sarah is grown and away to college for her first year - schedules not quite lining up for you to see him when you come home, but God are you glad you have the chance now. He’s older now, obviously, greying a little. His hair has grown too, curls flopping onto his forehead and around his ears. He looks broader now than he did - the physical labour obviously working in his favour - you can see the arms of his t-shirt straining around the muscles there, but as you let your eyes trail down a little, you’re pleased to see that he clearly still enjoys his barbecue and beer.

“Y’gonna let me in, sweetheart?” He asks and that Southern drawl hasn’t changed either, low and slow, tickling just the right parts of your brain as they always had.

You’d thought whatever it was that you felt for him was just some silly schoolgirl crush, but the longer he hung around, the older he got, the more you realised he wasn’t something you’d grow out of liking. Not even the fair amount of fooling around at college had helped - boys that had no idea what they were doing, who couldn’t take instruction to save their lives. Whenever they’d leave, you’d lie there, sheets pulled up under you chin, and think, Joel Miller would never leave me like that - wet, wanting and unsatisfied.

“Sorry,” You mumble, taking a side step to let him in, “Here to fix the tap, right?”

“That’s right,” He replies, walking in and straight to the kitchen - he spends more of his time here than you do now, “Nice t’see you back for a while.”

You close the door, stopping off to lean over the couch and grab your half-empty water glass before following behind him to the kitchen.

“Weird to be back, honestly,” You muse, pulling a fresh glass out of the cupboard, “Didn’t think this place would ever change much, but it feels different.”

“Probably you that’s changed,” He talks as he opens the toolbox he’s bought with him, “Got a different perspective on things now you live in the big city.”

“You’re probably right,” You agree, filling the glasses with ice and water, sipping from one and putting the other near to where Joel is working, “And the fact no-one else left I suppose - did you know Becca from my year at school has had two kids since I’ve been away?”

Joel let’s out a low whistle as he uses some tool to tighten something on the tap, sighing when it doesn’t stop the leaking, “Two kids at your age?” He asks, “I could barely deal with Sarah, I don’t know how folks do it.”

“Yeah, me neither,” You shrug, leaning against the kitchen counter, “I can barely keep myself alive.”

He turns his head, his brown eyes roving you up and down, is he…? Is he checking you out? He lets out a little cough and reaches for his water, taking two deep drinks of it before he turns back to the job at hand, sinking to his knees on the floor to open the cupboard under the sink. He’s got his head inside it when he speaks again.

“I don’t know,” He muses, “You look pretty alive to me.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle, “Best compliment I’ve ever received.”

You can hear him laugh a little from under the sink, the noise punctuated with the sounds of him gently hammering at something.

“Can you pass me the screwdriver down?” He asks, an arm extending out towards you as you rifle through his toolbox, setting the tool in his hand when you find it.

It doesn’t take him much longer to fix whatever was wrong, the dripping from the faucet stopping, giving you the sweet relief of silence, save for him groaning as he stands from his knees.

“Maybe time to retire, old man?” You offer with a smirk as he shoves the tools back into the box.

“Careful,” He warns, but his voice is light and you know he’s teasing, “I’m in the prime of my life.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m all done,” He says a few moments later once he’s cleaned up, “Tell your dad I’ll be back sometime in the week to look at the shower.”

You follow him back to the door, like a lost puppy on his heel, wanting to spend as much time as possible in his company before he leaves.

“Thanks for coming,” You say when he opens the door, “The dripping was driving me wild.”

“No problem sweetheart, my pleasure,” He smiles, “Anythin’ else you let your dad know he can call me, okay?” You nod in response, about to close the door, “It’s real good to see you again.”

“You too, Joel.”

It’s been just over a week since Joel had fixed the tap. He’d been back and forth to tinker with the other issues throughout the house, talking to you here and there, but tonight is the first time he’ll be here without the pretence of needing to fix something. It’s always the same in Southern households in the summer - each household in a group of friends taking turns to host some form of dinner for everyone else, eating together in the name of community.

There’s a table full of food - your mother had made enough side dishes to feed the five thousand, potato salad, fresh bread and enough green salad that you’d all be eating it for days afterwards. The fridge stocked full of beer and wine and the crowning glory of a cheesecake you’d slaved over for hours yesterday.

Joel is here, along with Tommy, and your neighbours on both sides too. Your mom and dad had invited friends from work, but just like you’d expected, none of your friends from before you left were able to make it - prior commitments of children, husbands and work.

It’s a low-key affair, a table full of grilled meat and sides and plenty of alcohol, but it’s the alcohol that’s made this difficult for you. With Joel sitting right next you, smelling of cologne and entirely unaware that you’re creaming in your panties about wanting him to fuck you.

You’d not been subtle today either - picking the shortest dress you own, bending over to pick something up in front of him, laughing at his jokes and pressing against him at the table whenever he says something interesting or funny - you want him to know that you want him, you want him to know that he’s all you’ve been able to think about since he showed up on the porch last week.

And you think he does. When you rest a hand on his knee under the table after a particularly funny story about his apprentice and a drill on the worksite, he gives you a pointed look, but doesn’t brush your hand away, and when you announce to the table that you need to use the bathroom and cool down a little, you’re halfway up the stairs when you hear his footsteps following you - almost hunting you into the bathroom and closing the door.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doin’, sugar.”

Got him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joel.” You smirk, turning around to lean against the sink as the bathroom door closes with a snick.

“Though you were a smart city girl now,” He muses, leaning his back against the door - you don’t miss his hand turning the lock, “You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Maybe you should explain it to me,” You say, looking up at him through your lashes, “I’d hate for us to have crossed wires.”

He shakes his head, but you can see the twitch of his mouth upwards, “Firstly, this little number,” His hand waves at your dress, barely short enough to cover your ass, “And the way you’ve been bendin’ over all night right when I happen to be lookin’, sittin’ right next to me, the way you’re puttin’ your hands on my leg whenever you laugh?” You shrug in response, “Definitely not the sweet girl I remember before you left.”

“Things change,” You offer, “New perspectives and all that.”

“And those new perspectives make you wanna fuck this old man?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

“Is that such a crime?”

“College boys ain’t doin’ it for you?”

“No.” You reply simply, trying to keep your grin from blooming as he starts stepping towards you until you can feel the heat from his body.

He’s looming over you, hands on either side of your body, caging you between his body and the sink. You look up, find his face close to yours and waste no time in pressing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him.

It’s soft. Softer than you’d imagined from him - his mouth moving slowly against your lips as he presses his body flush to yours. You open your mouth against his a little, let your tongue trail over his bottom lip, hands reaching up to grip onto his t-shirt as his tongue meets yours.

You think you could stay like that forever, tasting him, but he pulls away, hands gripping your hips through the material of your dress to turn you around. There’s a brief moment where he presses himself against you, letting you feel the hardening of his cock against your ass, but then he’s gone, dropped to his knees behind you, tearing your panties down your legs to pool at your ankles.

Joel brings his palms to the naked skin of your ass, squeezing before he pulls gently, spreading you open with a low whistle from his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re this wet from teasing me, sugar.” He says, leaning forward to press his mouth to the top of your spine.

You’re about to respond when you feel one of his hands drop and then brush against the slick folds of your cunt, all you can do is watch yourself in the mirror as you tip your head forward and wait for what’s coming.

You feel him run his fingers back down before one of them dips lower, dangerously close to your fluttering hole that’s begging to be filled - and he knows it.

“She’s desperate, huh?” He coos behind you, “Practically beggin’ for someone to fill her up, ain’t she?”

“Please, Joel?” You breathe out, looking at yourself in the mirror, “I need it.”

“What do you need?” He asks with a tender squeeze of his other palm to your ass, “Huh? You tell me sugar and I’ll give it to you.”

“Your m-mouth,” You stutter out, “Or your f-fingers, anything Joel, please.”

“Like this?” He asks, and you’re about to ask what he means when you feel the warmth of his tongue lapping at you.

He’s tasting you, lapping at your core where you’re seeping slick just for him, his fingers trailing up, finding that bud of nerves, gently circling as he drinks from you.

“Ohhhhhh,” You sigh out in relief, taking yourself in when you look at your reflection, hair a little mused, skin slick with sweat already, “Just like that.”

You can feel his tongue pressing inside a little as his finger finds a rhythm of short gentle swipes across your clit - he’s got your knees wobbling already, making you flatten your palms on the marble sink to keep yourself upright.

“You gotta be quiet, okay?” He says, pulling his mouth off you to speak, dragging his fingers from your clit, “You make too much noise, I’ll have to stop.”

You hum in agreement, waiting to see what his next move is, which is to sink of of his thick fingers right inside your cunt and to lean forward underneath you enough so his tongue is moving against your clit. You have to bite down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out - if there’s one thing college boys don’t do, it’s this.

You’re not sure how long he stays down there, lapping at your clit and slowly moving that finger inside you, but you know you’d have stayed there all night if you could, teetering just on the edge until he felt like finishing you off.

There’s a whine that leaves your mouth when his lips leave you - the finger that was inside you also gone, but he swaps them again - soaked fingers rubbing at your clit whilst he literally sucks the wet from your cunt, like a man who has gone without water for months. The hand that he’s hand pressed to your ass cheek is gone too - you can hear him fumbling with his belt and the movement of material somewhere along the line too, then, he’s groaning into your cunt.

You turn your head a little, but you can’t see him well enough to confirm what you think he’s doing - lapping at your cunt and circling your clit whilst he’s fisting his own cock.

“Are y-you-” You choke out, trying to keep your moans quiet as you feel the coil tightening in your tummy, “Are you touching yourself?”

Joel’s fingers continues its movement across your clit but his mouth leaves you, “Course I am,” He confesses, “Couldn’t help myself, sugar.”

“Just-” You trail off, a small, quiet moan slipping through the cracks of your resolve, “Put it inside me Joel.”

“Not yet,” He says, “Gotta make you cum first.”

“M’close,” You breathe out, pushing your hips back a little to get him to go back to what he was doing before, “Please Joel, I wanna cum.”

“Go on then, baby,” He coos, tongue back to licking at your wet hole, “You can let go.”

You feel your cunt pull tight and your knees buckle and your teeth bite down onto your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as his fingers expertly push you over the edge. You can feel your walls clenching around nothing, begging for him to slip himself inside you so you have something to clench around as the hot furl of pleasure drifts like electric across your skin.

“Good girl,” You can hear him murmuring behind you, “So good bein’ so quiet like that.”

You’ve barely got time to recover before he’s standing up and pressing into you from behind, his lips wet and hot across the skin of your shoulder, a trail of wet being left from the drag of his beard where your slick has gathered.

“I don’t have anything on me,” He breathes into your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe, “You got anything?”

You shake your head, “I’m clean though, I promise,” You speak softly, feeling him press his cock through your folds, “And I’m on the pill.”

He’s dragging his cock back through your folds, letting the head of it nudge slightly at your entrance, “You let anyone else fuck you bare before?” His hot breath asks into your ear.

“N-no,” You confess, “Only you.”

You can feel him press himself forward a little bit, feeding the tip of his cock into your cunt. There’s no doubt he’s big, bigger than you’re used to, but there’s no ache, not even when he pressed his hips further forward until you can feel his skin against yours and he’s buried fully inside you.

“Jesus,” He chokes out, “Fuckin’ Christ you feel good.”

Joel brings a hand up to rest against your throat, but it’s only to guide your eyeline to the mirror in front of you. He’s crowding behind you, hot and heavy against your back as he slowly starts to move, dragging his cock from your cunt and back in, chuckling against the skin of your cheek when you smile and giggle as the tip of him nudges at the very depths of you.

“You look good like this.” He whispers.

“We look good like this.” You counter, struggling to breathe a little as he picks the pace up, hips hitting into the meat of your ass on every thrust.

“We do,” He smiles, dragging himself off you a little to rest his hand on the back of your neck instead, “You like watching yourself get fucked, baby?”

You can’t speak anymore, the angle of his cock brushing against something inside of you which has you struggling to keep yourself quiet, so you just nod your head and let him press you further down into the counter, holding you still with his firm hand on your neck as he really starts to fuck you now.

You’re glad you can hear the music from the garden from here - means your dad has it turned up loud enough that no-one would be able to hear the squelch of your pussy on every thrust or the sound of your skin slapping together as Joel speeds up. It feels too good, you feel too full and you can feel that tightening coil again, feel the clenching of your cunt around his cock.

Looking into the mirror, you can see he’s in a similar state to you, his eyes angled down to watch his cock disappear into the heat of your cunt each time, sweat gathering along his brow. He sounds good too - small grunts on every thrust and a suck of breath whenever you constrict around him.

“One more, baby,” He urges, “Want to feel you cum on my cock, okay?”

He shifts his position a little so he’s fucking up into you - head of his cock pounding against that spot inside you that only you’d been able to find until now. It makes your legs shake and you have to bite down on your fist when he makes you cum again to stop yourself from crying out - tears springing at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill as he talks you through it, tells you how pretty you look and how good you’re being for him.

“M’gonna cum baby,” He warns from behind you, “Where d’ya want it?”

You have no sense in your head anymore, he’s fucked it from you thoroughly, so you say the first thing that comes to mind - beg him to cum inside you, to fill you up. It’s safe, of course it would be, but you’re glad that somewhere in the haze of it all, he’s got more sense than you, pulling himself out of your cunt at just the last second, resting it against your ass as he spills across the skin of your lower back with a growl of your name on his mouth.

There’s silence as the two of you suck in breath to your lungs, letting your senses come back to you. Joel is quiet as he steps back and pulls his jeans back up to dress himself. He uses some tissue to clean you up, inspecting the hem of your dress for any stains he might have left before he’s dragging your panties back up your legs.

You have a try and fixing your hair, wetting your fingers from the sink to try and tame the flyaways, wondering if he’s going to walk away and leave you, but he doesn’t, he just stands behind you and waits for you to finish.

“I hope that was okay?” He offers sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck when you’re done.

“I asked for it,” You smile at him, “It was fine Joel.”

“Only fine?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

You chuckle and slap him playfully on his arm, “Best I've ever had,” You offer, “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” He chuckles, moving to unlock the bathroom door before he turns back to you, “We don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

You make a sign of a cross above your heart, “Not a soul.”

787 notes · View notes

wwinterwitch · 5 months

Text

cowboy like me — coriolanus snow

summary: it takes one to know one. you and him were exactly alike, which explains why you were inevitably drawn to each other

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tags: you can't fix him you're as awful as him, being delusional together, fluff??? (not really but u guys are in love and happy and married), mentions of/implied murder and being bad people, romanticizing everything

notes: idk where i was going with this i just had this idea in my head and taylor inspired me to write it. i'm also absolutely feral for young!snow it's not even funny at this point, i needed to find ways to cope lmao

i'd really appreciate a comment or reblog if you enjoy my work.

masterlists | read on ao3

A smile appears on your face the second you feel a hand on your lower back, turning around to meet your husband's loving gaze.

He stands directly in front of you, staring down at you in a way that to this day makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, like you're nothing but a teenage girl who's unlucky enough to have developed a blinding crush on a guy too charming for his own good— the thought of it makes you feel almost nostalgic, looking back at the early stages of your relationship.

Coriolanus Snow has always been a familiar face. Growing up together, you two have known each other for ages. You might've interacted a few times, but nothing beyond brief conversations between classmates.

You had a boyfriend at the time. A much too sweet and caring guy that made the big mistake of falling irrevocably in love with you. In all fairness, it was hard for him not to trail behind you like a lost puppy all the time when you were so good at making foolish boys believe you were the girl of their dreams.

Love is not a word you would use to describe your relationship. He was tolerable and clearly obsessed with you, so it made sense for you to stay with him. He learned with time that buying you very expensive gifts would get you to pay more attention to him, so that became his way of showing his affection for you.

In his mind this was perfectly reasonable. His girl likes being spoiled, so that's exactly what he did. The adoration for you blinded him enough to ignore the truth: you're just sticking around for the money. Some people warned him you were bad news, but you always managed to find a way to make him worship you all over again. Maybe you could've felt sorry for him at some point...if only he didn't have such good taste to pick things out for you.

But then Coriolanus happened. You started to notice him more and more until you inevitably started having feelings for him. How could you not fall for a guy like him? Especially after he started his quick ascend as one of the best Game makers in history.

Maybe it was the way he so fervently claimed his interest in you, willing to pursue you even when your boyfriend was still in the picture. Or perhaps it had to do with his growing popularity and power. After all, you can't deny how attracted you are to guys with ambition.

And Coriolanus is not exactly sure what made him fall for you either. There's many things he loves about you, that's for sure, but he can't say which came first. Was it your captivating beauty and intelligence, or the news that you recently became the only heir to one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol?

Whatever force pulled the two of you together, it really doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that he loves you with every fiber of his being, willing to do whatever is in his power to make sure you're happy (and what isn't, he'll do anything to get). And you love him too, of course, offering him a companionship he always craved— undying fidelity, the purest honesty and understanding.

You've never once judged him for being who he is. If anything, you seem to admire his strength to do whatever it takes to secure his place in society. No one has ever been this loving and accepting, almost encouraging him to be as determined as ever to get the two of you on top.

Whatever he did or didn't do is already in the past. Why should the past matter? Shouldn't you enjoy the present with your loving and successful husband? Be proud of the work the two of you have done to get where you are?

No, the past is gone. It already happened. There’s no need to look back at things you can't change and decisions you can't take back. It all brought you here. Every tiny little decision led the two of you to this moment; married, in love, happy, powerful. It was meant to be like this.

He didn't seem to mind about your own past either. Any other person would've judged you for the difficult decisions you had to make in order to become the wealthiest woman in all of Panem. You've seen it in the face of ex friends and lovers. They never understood your hunger for what you so rightfully deserve.

Good things don't happen to people because they're good. They happen because you make them happen. You fight, you take, you conquer. It's what life is, and it's something you and Coriolanus understand perfectly. That's why the two of you make sense. Why it feels so right to be together. You understand him and he understands you— understands you like no one else has in your entire life.

It was him the one who held you that night when you just couldn't hold it in anymore, and he sat with you while you cried and cried about your beloved sister, because even after all those years you still missed her and wished things could've been different.

If only your parents made it easier for you. They shouldn't have played favorites from the moment you were born. And they really shouldn't mess with something as important as inheritance. It's your goddamn birthright! How could they be so cruel to you? If they corner you against the wall with no apparent way to escape, it was a matter of time before you decided to stand your ground.

It's a shame your poor sister had to suffer the consequences, though. You really do love her...

Coriolanus couldn't judge you even if he tried. He could see himself in your tear-filled eyes and hear his own inconsolable sobs through your voice. It took him back to a particularly difficult point in his life where he had to make a similar choice.

He pours his heart out to you as he holds you tight against his body, revealing all the unfortunate things he was forced to do because it's all that was left. An act-or-die situation that kept repeating itself until he had no other choice but to do the unspeakable. What else was he supposed to do? What else were you supposed to do?

The regret in his voice is evident, and you know he does regret it because he’s a good person with a heart of gold. One of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s good, and brave, and passionate…enough to sacrifice what he loves if the circumstances require that of him. Not many people have the privilege to claim to be as great as him.

"You did what you had to," your voice came out in a soft whisper, still affected by your sudden outburst with the thought of your sister engraved deep inside your brain. At the time you thought you were trying to ease his conscience, but maybe your statement was falling from your lips in a weak attempt to ease your own inner conflict too. "Life has been so unfair to us, Coriolanus. Is it too bad that we want just a little bit of peace?"

He stays quiet for a bit, stroking your hair in hopes to bring you some comfort as he processes your hopeless, pain-filled statement. That's probably the hardest thing about loving you; caring so much that he cannot possibly function if he knows you're hurting, and cursing himself for not being able to take that pain away.

"We'll have peace," he eventually assures you. His voice is soft, yet fiercely determined. There's no room for discussion. He'll make it happen for the two of you. What's a few more difficult choices when he's so far gone now? When he knows it has worked perfectly before and it made all his dreams come true?

In that moment, snuggled up to his chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you, it was clear. That sense of familiarity you only get when you look back in the mirror, or when you quickly scan a room when someone speaks your name. He has suffered as much as you. He knows what it's like to be mistreated in life, and how difficult it is sometimes to live with the fact that you had to leave people behind to finally taste a drop of happiness.

The guilt comes and goes. Sometimes it's easier to remember you had no choice, but other times all you can think about is what life could've been if you weren't forced to take such drastic measures. Perhaps now that you have someone who truly understands, you'll learn to always remember you deserve all you managed to achieve.

When you move back from him to look up into his welcoming and comforting blue eyes, you knew you'd never be alone again. You'll never get to experience this free-fall, soul-consuming feeling with anyone else. And why would you even want to waste your time like that, when you already found the one person who sees the world exactly like you do?

A love like this is hard to find. Most people spend a lifetime trying to find a love decent enough to make them feel like they're losing their minds. Like the air is missing from their lungs and everything looks much darker when the other is not around. Like they're willing to do anything to make the other happy. Like the fear of being consumed entirely by it is the sweetest of fates.

You thought you could only experience affection in the form of luxurious jewelry, fancy clothing and all that came with the important status your ex boyfriend provided. At one point, you could say you almost needed him. Or least needed his money. He provided a safety net you desperately needed after your stupid parents decided to leave everything to your annoyingly perfect sister.

After becoming the only heir in your family (it really is a shame that your sister was gone so soon, poor thing), your boyfriend was no longer a necessity, but a way of distracting yourself when you needed it. It's not like you're going to refuse his gifts and attention anytime soon, right?

But that was it. The furthest it can get to what being in love should look like. And that was what your relationship with Coriolanus should have been when you decided to make your way into his heart. Never in a million years would you have expected to meet a soul that matches yours in even the tiniest of details, that loves so deeply and cares enough to act like it's required to survive.

With his arms still surrounding your body in a protective and comforting manner, you knew he’d be the guy you’d spend the rest of your life with. You knew it long before the day he got down on one knee, professing his undying love for you and offering the most beautiful engagement ring you have ever seen in your life. You pledged to always be there for him and, in return, he vowed to give you the world— he'd find a way to reach the night sky and collect every single star for you if that's what you ask of him. You kept each other's deepest secrets like they were your own. Two smart and ambitious people joining together in their search for greatness.

The hand on your lower back now rests against your cheek, tracing your skin in such a delicate manner that it almost makes you shiver. The white rose attached to his impeccable burgundy suit is slightly tilted to the right, fixing it with your hands as soon as your eyes notice that detail.

He smiles wider after your gesture, leaning down to capture your lips in an affectionate kiss to show his gratitude. You wish the moment could last longer, but you know it's impossible to stay behind these walls for longer when there's a loud crowd out there chanting your husband's name.

There's the briefest of interactions when he breaks the kiss, the two of you standing in front of each other with a smile of pure conspiracy— a silent recognition of the work individually done to get here, an unspoken ‘thank you’ to one another for the team effort, and the promise of a never-ending companionship that would only take you higher.

He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours before finally stepping outside to the marble balcony. Before you, a sea of people cheer and welcome the new President and First Lady of Panem.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes

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kaleldobrev · 8 months

Text

A Simple Misunderstanding

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hughie might of overheard something he probably shouldn't have between you and Ben

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Cursing (9x), Fluff, Sexual Innuendos, Implied Drug Use, Soldier Boy (Yes, our macho man gets his own warning)

Authors Note: So, this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I've been going back and forth debating if I was going to post this or not. But once I gave the summary to @zepskies she said she was intrigued, so I said, "What the heck?" and now it's posted for your enjoyment | This is my first time writing for this universe so I hope I was able to do these characters justice | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It was the middle of the night and Hughie couldn’t sleep. Although him and The Boys were in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors for miles, it surprised him how noisy everything could be. He had lived in New York City all his life; he was used to the noise. The bustling sounds of traffic, the occasional gunshot or stabbing, airplanes always flying overhead, or a supe destroying some vehicles while trying to catch a culprit. But the noises he heard were much different; it was the sounds of the crickets, droplets of water hitting an unwashed plate in the sink, and random incoherent whispering. The hustle and bustle of the city had become white noise to him.

Looking over at the clock it just struck 1:59am. He hadn’t been in bed long trying to sleep, only attempting to just a little past midnight. Since joining the group, it was unusual for him to actually get to bed at a normal time or even go to bed at all. He was used to going a day or two without sleep. Frenchie tempted him with some sort of drug to keep him going or an energy drink, MM would usually offer coffee which was the preferred method for Hughie. But at this point, the caffeine wasn’t working anymore, as he had started drinking it like water. Unhealthy for sure, but so was not sleeping for one, two, or three days straight.

This was the first time in a long time where everyone was actually sleeping, even Butcher. It was strange, because as long as Hughie had known him, he never once saw the man sleep. The closest he ever got was when he would get knocked out; but even then, that was kind of a rare occurrence.

Getting up from his bed he sat on the edge of it for a moment rubbing his face. He had wanted to stay in bed and keep trying to fall asleep, but he knew that there was no use. So he decided to implement a trick that he remembered his mother using when she couldn’t fall asleep or get back to sleep. When she had trouble falling asleep or getting back to sleep, she would do various things to occupy herself until she felt tired enough to try and sleep again. Her usual go-to’s were either reading in the living room or listening to Billy Joel quietly to herself. Once, Hughie remembered waking up in the middle of the night and had found her humming quietly to herself while she read a book in the living room. The only light came from a single table lamp next to her.

Leaving the bedroom he started making his way down the hall toward the living room where he decided to watch some TV. There would probably be nothing worth watching at this time; just infomercials about grills or some kind of cleaning agent that didn’t work. He really wasn’t picky about what he watched, he just wanted something to help him fall asleep.

As he walked down the hall, he heard faint whispering coming from one of the bedrooms. He thought that he had been the only one up - guess he was wrong. The room in which he heard the whispering coming from was Soldier Boy's room - something that he didn't find surprising in the slightest, as he was someone that actively fought sleep. "I've slept enough," he would say.

He started walking away, but didn't move far as he stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" That was your voice. What the Hell were you doing in his bedroom? And at this hour? Hughie thought to himself. He knew that the two of you were friends of some sort, as you were the only person that SB genuinely seemed to like and get along with, but for some reason, it didn't really occur to Hughie that you would be spending time with him this late into the night.

The next thing he heard was chuckling, chuckling from SB. "Trust me." The next sounds Hughie heard actually made his eyes go wide. It was the bedside drawer opening and closing just as quickly, the sound of some kind of plastic being opened, and then bed springs squeaking. The squeaking was so loud that he could only assume that it was the two of you moving in unison, not just one of you.

“Oh wow that’s…huge.” You commented, emphasizing the word ‘huge.’ Huge? Hughie thought. Gross.

Again, SB chuckled. “Never seen one so big Princess?” Princess?! Hughie was surprised he didn’t gag right then and there. Never did he ever want to hear SB say the word Princess, nor did he ever want to hear it in the context of it being used to describe you; his best friend since kindergarten.

“No, never.” You replied back, sounding as if you were embarrassed. “I mean, I’ve heard they can be that big but…” you trailed off.

So many emotions were taking over Hughie: but disgust was the main one. There were two things that his brain automatically came up with in this scenario. The first: barge into the room and stop you and Soldier Boy from having sex, the second: move far away as possible from the door and pretend this never happened. As much as he wanted to do the first option, he valued his life too much, didn't want to see Soldier Boy in all of his naked glory (once was enough when they were in Russia), nor did he want to be a cockblock for one of the oldest and most powerful supes in history. He knew, that being a cockblock would have been the very last thing he would do in life if he barged in. Option two it is, he thought to himself. With that decision, he never moved so quickly in his life.

The morning finally came and you were greeted by Ben having his arms wrapped around you and your head tucked underneath his chin. His embrace around you was tight, but not so tight that if you needed to move, you could (not that he would let you move any way, he was too comfortable). He's getting better at not crushing me when we cuddle, you couldn't help but think. The position the two of you were in was an intimate one, and it had become a somewhat regular occurrence over the past couple of weeks. It was something that you never thought would ever happen, especially when you first met him a few months ago.

Your relationship with Ben had drastically changed in the short amount of time that you had known him and took a complete 180. When you first met him, you were initially excited to meet him because you had watched all of his movies on repeat growing up as your father was a huge Soldier Boy fan - it was something the two of you had bonded over. But when you met him, he was far from how you envisioned him to be. He wasn't this all-American hero who stood up against injustice - he was a misogynistic racist asshole.

As time went on, Ben had somehow started to grow on you. Although there were still elements of him that radiated misogynism and racism, you gave him the benefit of the doubt when it came to certain things. How it wasn't entirely his fault, as he had spent 40 years essentially in isolation being tortured by the Russians; completely unaware of the massive changes that took place in the world. Once you had "remembered" that, and started spending more and more time with him, you had started to fall for him - and it happened relatively quick.

"Good morning." He said to you, his voice lazy as he kissed your bare shoulder.

"Good morning to you too." You replied back, pressing your back and ass closer into him.

"Your heart's beatin' a little fast there Princess." He smirked.

"It's just nice waking up like this, that's all." You said. "Well, you kissing my bare shoulder doesn't hurt either."

"You know, I can kiss other parts too." He said, keeping the smirk on his lips.

"Hmm, I know you can." You said, turning to face him. He leaned in and kissed you, a little surprised that he was the one that initiated. "Can I ask you something?"

You heard an annoyed sigh from him. "You're going to ask if I say no or not Sweetheart." He responded with his usual bluntness.

"Yeah you're right." You said. Ben couldn't help but slightly roll his eyes. "So my question," you began, turning to face him completely as you propped up your elbow on the pillow. "Why didn't you try and have sex with me last night?"

Ben looked at you with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "You're disappointed that I didn't try and fuck you?" He let out a small chuckle at your question.

"Honestly...Yeah. I mean, everyone was sleeping, and I know you want to. Plus, I barely had anything on." When you came to his room last night, you had purposely wore more revealing clothes in order to tempt him - a tank top and boy shorts.

"You wouldn't've been able to stay quiet." He began. "Although, it would have been fun to hear you attempting to be quiet and failing miserably." There was that smirk again.

"You don't know that." You said, your fingertips running up and down his bare arm.

"Y/N, trust me. You wouldn't have." His confidence was almost radiating arrogance.

"Is that a promise?" You asked. Your question more bold than you had intended it to sound.

"Oh, it most definitely is." He said. "I'll tell you what. We can test it out tonight." He leaned in, inches away from your face, moving a strand of lose hair that had fallen in front of your face.

"Promise?" You asked, your voice low, a little hesitant.

"I didn't stutter did I?"

"No Sir." You said, leaning in and kissing him again.

The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, glasses of orange juice on the table. MM and Frenchie making breakfast for everyone while Kimiko helped to set the table. Butcher sat on the barstool on the island in the kitchen, every once in a while taking a sip of coffee and reading the paper. Hughie walked into the kitchen and took a seat next to Butcher, his face looked like he had seen a ghost. Putting down the last plate, Kimiko looked at Hughie and walked over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He didn’t respond to her touch, which made her slightly frown with concern. Frenchie looked over at her and she signed something to him. “Petit Hughie, she wants to know what’s wrong.” Frenchie translated.

Hughie didn’t respond, he just sat there on the stool looking off into space. Frenchie waved his hand in front of Hughie’s face. “Petit Hughie?” Frenchie and MM exchanged looks, and Butcher put down the paper.

“Oi, lad.” He waved his hand in front of his face too. He looked over at MM and Frenchie. “I know what to do.” Without hesitation, Butcher slapped Hughie in the face, causing him to almost fall off the barstool.

Hughie started rubbing his cheek where Butcher had slapped him. "What the fuck was that for?"

"For being a creepy little shite and not saying anything when we're talkin' to ya." Butcher responded.

"I had uh, a rough night." Hughie said. He pointed at his cheek. "This isn't going to bruise is it?" He asked, Butcher rolled his eyes.

"Do you want me to make it bruise?" He asked, smirking.

"Good morning everyone!" You practically sang as you walked into the kitchen. Everyone besides Ben had been there, as he was still currently pre-occupied with taking a shower. Everyone was currently sitting at the dining room table, slowly taking bites of their breakfast. Every so often, they took glances at you before looking back down at their plate of food.

Sitting down at the table, you took your usual spot next to Hughie and gave him a quick smile, before taking your fork and started digging into your pancakes. "MM, Frenchie, did you guys make this?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"Uh, yeah." MM responded, almost too quietly. It was a little strange to you how quietly he had responded, but at the same time, you didn't really think anything of it, as the last couple of days has been a little rough for everyone. Despite being in a safe house, you knew that MM was at least up some of the night making sure that all of you were actually safe. You weren't sure if it was because of the situation you all were in, his military background, his OCD, or a combination of the three.

After a few moments of silence Hughie finally spoke to you. "So, how did you uh, sleep?"

You took a sip of your orange juice before responding. "Pretty good actually. Best I've slept in quite a while." Which was true. "How about you?"

"Rough night." Hughie said, responding very quickly to your question, as if he already had his answered prepared.

You frowned at his answer. "I'm sorry. Nightmare? Couldn't sleep?"

"A little of both." He said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"Ye-" Before he could finish his sentence, Ben walked into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing a t-shirt that you had gotten him about a week ago. Without saying a single word, Ben took his usual spot next to you and started digging into the plate of food in front of him.

You cleared your throat and looked at him, which caused him to look at you. "What?" He asked, a mouth full of pancakes.

"Isn't there something you'd like to say?" You asked.

"Christ on a cross..." He mumbled, before looking up. "Morning." He said, forcing a smile before looking down at his plate again. "Happy?" He mumbled just low enough for only you to hear.

You smiled at him. "Very." You whispered back.

"The things I fucking do for you." He mumbled.

Hughie stood up very abruptly, the utensils and plates shaking a bit. This abruptness had caused everyone to look at him (except for Ben, who didn't even seemed bothered in the slightest). "You know what, I'm just going to come out and say it." His voice confident.

"We know you're gay." Ben said, very nonchalantly, still not looking up. "It's uh, good for you." He looked up now, focusing his attention on Hughie. "Be proud or...whatever." He finished, flashing him a forced smile. Ben then turned toward his attention to you, looking for some kind of approval from you regarding what he just said. Trying to adjust to the modern age was hard for him, but he was thankful that you were there to help him navigate things.

"What? I-I'm not gay. For the last time, I'm with Annie." Hughie said, trying his best to defend himself.

"I've been told that's called a beard." Ben took another bite out of his pancakes, and your hand automatically went to his thigh, giving it a small squeeze. It was your way of basically telling him to stop talking. He looked at your hand before looking at you again. "What?"

You turned your attention to your friend. "Hughie, what did you want to say?"

"Okay. I'm just going to come out and say it. Ask it. Whatever!" His voice sounding insanely flustered. "Did you guys fuck last night?"

You felt your eyes go wide, your fingernails digging into Ben's pants. You didn't know what to say, you were speechless. "What's it to you?" Ben asked, not even seeming to be remotely fazed by Hughie's question.

"Because she's my friend." Hughie responded. He knew that his response wasn't good enough.

"Okay, and?" Ben gave him a confused look, unsure of what Hughie's point even was. "I'll repeat, what's it to you? Y/N doesn't ask every time you blow Butcher."

"Again, I'm not gay." Hughie said, his voice sounding defeated.

"Whatever. Point is, she doesn't fucking ask. So why are you asking?" You couldn't help but agree with Ben, who seemed to be very reasonable in his questioning for once.

Hughie looked at Ben and you, and then looked at the rest of the group - all of them staring at him, waiting for him to say something. "Because..." he tried to find the right words. "Because you two are the reason why I couldn't sleep last night!" You and Ben exchanged looks, not understanding. The two of you focused your attention on him. Before either you or Ben could say anything, Hughie started talking again. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He looked at you. "Never seen one so big?" He looked at Ben. "You're even wearing his fucking shirt!" Hughie pointed to the shirt you were wearing.

You looked down at your shirt before looking at Hughie again. "I always wear Ben's shirts." You stated.

"No, you don't actually!" Hughie's voice was starting to sound so frantic now.

"She looks damn good in them though." Ben commented, taking yours and his empty plate to the sink.

"Hughie, I can assure you. Me and him didn't have sex last night." You said, really trying your best to reassure your friend, even though - to Ben's point - it wasn't remotely his business anyway.

"We will tonight though." Ben said, his voice calm as it has been throughout this entire exchange.

"They didn't need to know that." You pinched the bridge of your nose. You weren't embarrassed that Ben said that, but it was something that you didn't think he needed to add to the conversation.

"Sure they did. I mean, your friend here seems interested." Ben walked over back to the table, placing two mugs of coffee before sitting back down next to you again.

"For the love of..." You mumbled. "We smoked a blunt last night! There! Happy?" Your voice was the one that sounded frantic now, with a small hint of annoyance added.

"You guys...smoked...a blunt?" Hughie felt his cheeks heating up, embarrassed by this whole exchange now. "So you guys weren't talking about the size of his -"

"Hughie you better not finish that fucking sentence I swear to God." MM said, his voice sounding as if he had lost all of his patience already for the day, and it wasn't even nine in the morning yet.

“Ben and I were talking and I had mentioned that I’ve never smoked a blunt before, or have done any kind of drugs so he offered to let me try it. That’s it.” There was much more to the conversation, but you didn't feel like adding anything else. The rest of the gang didn't need to know that you and Ben were planning on going some place far away from New York when all was said and done.

"You never smoked a blunt before? I'm shocked." Butcher stated. "Swear you have." For as long as he had known you (which was quite a while now, as you joined The Boys about a year before Lamplighter had killed Mallory's grandkids), he could have sworn up and down that you were on some kind of drugs, but he never could put his finger on it. He thought about asking you of course, but he always decided against it.

"It's shocking I know." You shrugged. "I guess it's never appealed to me."

"Well it's a good thing you're with Mister Coke Head over here." Butcher said, adding a little chuckle at the end.

"Just because we're together doesn't mean I'm gonna start doing drugs with him Butcher." You defended.

"She'll be too busy doing other things." Ben smirked, before winking at you.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @zepskies If you want to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys one shot #ben x you #ben x reader #reader insert #female reader #the boys amazon

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Pretty When You Cry

part 2 of Dark But Just A Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: after getting a taste of dad’s associate, Joel Miller, facedown on a desk, you can’t seem to stay away. despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to, either.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mentions of reader having long-ish hair; alcohol consumption; pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance); age gap; dbf!Joel.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites aka bestie4lifie

word count: 4.7k

no use of y/n in this fic

Click to read part 1: Dark But Just a Game

Click to read part 3: Let Me Love You Like a Woman

ok y’all here she is!! thank you thank you for the reblogs on part 1! this piece and the last were slightly inspired by the dbf!joel miller drabbles by @anchoeritic, which you can read here. once again, love hearing your feedback, negative and positive, & my requests are always open<3

-em<333

—

It had been months since you’d last seen him.

Joel and Tess had a tendency of disappearing for weeks on end, taking the riskier smuggling jobs that nobody else dared to. How they managed to fly under FEDRA’s radar time and time again remained a mystery to all. The pair had to be extremely well connected on both ends of the spectrum.

It was easy to pretend that nothing had changed. He’d left without a word the morning after the party, taking Tess and a great deal of your father’s ammo along with him. It’s not like you’d expected a warning, much less a goodbye, but his departure still felt so sudden, so pointed. The next day, all he’d left you with was a constellation of light bruises between your thighs and a small, white pill in a dime bag tucked under your bedroom door.

So you went on with your life, only allowing your thoughts to wander in his direction when you’d had too much to drink or whenever you heard the word ‘sweetheart.’

Then, this morning—rubbing sleep from your eyes, you’d stumbled down to the main floor in a scant excuse for pajamas, failing to register the multitude of voices at the base of the stairs in your half-awake state.

And there he was, his spread legs taking up half of the shabby couch, one arm draped casually over the back, his other relaxed at his side. A deer in headlights, you screeched to a stop as soon as you were conscious enough to recognize him, frozen in his gaze as he briefly took you in—one hand shifting subtly to pull at the fabric of his jeans. Then, he looked away, his features hardening into a mask of nonchalance and indifference.

No acknowledgment, no greeting, no nothing.

Great. Things were back to how they’d been before he’d fucked you dumb on a wooden desk.

Scampering back up the stairs, you sealed yourself back into your bedroom, doing your very best to ignore the heat building between your legs.

A heat that only Joel-Fucking-Miller could entice from you.

Leaning your forehead against the door, you kicked yourself mentally for running away from the (non)interaction like a scared little kid. Where had that bygone, unchecked confidence gone? Where was that fearless playfulness you’d so often used against him?

Fine. If Joel wanted to pretend that nothing had happened between you two, he was leaving you with two options.

The first was to ignore him back.

No, you decided. That would be exactly what he’d want of you—what he’d expect of you.

To make things easy for him.

Conveniently, your second option was to make things really, really hard for him. To make it impossible for him to ignore you.

Good thing you were exceptionally well versed in what made Joel Miller incapable of disregarding you. Getting him to snap was practically your specialty, your carefully crafted home-made method.

After all, your incessant teasing had gotten you facedown on a table before, maybe it could get you on your back this time.

Smiling mischievously, you felt your old confidence soar back to its former standing.

—

“What could possibly be more fun than watching a building explode?”

Emma punctuates her tone with incredulity like a needle passing through silk—she was always doing a poor job of managing her attitude when it came to peer-pressuring you.

“C’mon, you know I can’t leave the boss here with all these people,” you lie effortlessly. Of course, you could leave. Hell, your dad probably would’ve preferred it that way. There weren’t many parents who enjoyed or encouraged the presence of their child while they were—oh, just committing criminal offenses—and your father was no exception.

Under normal circumstances, gallivanting around the moonlit city with Emma would’ve been your bread and butter, especially when she had intel on a firefly operation that would be (she hoped) culminating in a few explosions and a ton of rounds fired. But it wasn’t every night that your old man hosted a soirée for the best bandits in the city to congregate, getting them to drink shit liquor and make shit deals.

And Joel Miller was in your home, drinking the strong stuff and actively avoiding you.

So, these were not normal circumstances.

“That’s so lame,” she whines, brow furrowing in anguish as she mourns her mission.

Guilty eyes to the floor, you toss her a placating smile, thankful for her poor observation skills. Despite being raised in a family of highly successful criminals, Emma seriously lacked in the whole ‘perception’ department.

As it happened, you were just about ready to give up on your own mission. Despite going bra-less in the tightest top you owned and wearing the most ass-hugging jeans you could find, Joel hadn’t spared a mere glance in your direction all night.

In fact, you hadn’t even seen the guy. He’d been M.I.A. all night.

Frustrated, you decide to play your final card. Joel Millers aside, it was a fun card to play, even if you ended up losing the game.

Someone was going to have their hands on you tonight.

Scanning the bustling room of criminals, worn-in faces and worn-out hands gliding across your field of vision, your gaze lands on an unfamiliar young man. Tall, blonde-ish, lanky—looks like a toy still in its box, begging to be taken out and played with.

Perfect.

“Give me an hour,” you murmur urgently, catching Emma’s wayward attention, “no questions asked, and I’ll watch the damn shoot out with you, sparky.”

She looks at you, a bewildered smile creeping onto her expression. “But I thought—you just said—”

“Without asking any questions, Em.”

She puts her hands up in mock surrender and backs away, subsequently tapping her wrist and mouthing ‘one hour.’

Straightening yourself out, you ease your way toward your target, landing in the unoccupied space between the young man and the out-of-commission fireplace. He eyes you up before quickly looking away.

Nervous. Good.

“He waters down the drinks, y’know.”

Looking up at him through your eyelashes, the stranger returns your attempt at conversation with a puzzled glance. Jerking your chin, you gesture to his cup, full of a light-brown liquid that was once a spiced rum or a bourbon, now a glass of water barely seasoned with dark liquor.

“Saves the good stuff to repackage and resell to soldiers. His crime co-conspirators get stuck with the weak shit.”

You keep your tone casual, half focussed on the art of flirtation, half eyeing the room for a pair of angry, dark eyes. The boy sizes you up, nodding with sudden respect and understanding.

“You’re the boss’s daughter.”

You smile half-heartedly, a twisted part of you enjoying the look of amazement on his face. “Guilty,” you respond, shrugging sheepishly. Angling your body towards him, you flash him your most exquisite expression of interest.

“Meet him, yet?” You ask, curious to hear his thoughts. After all, your old man never failed to make an impression—nine times out of ten, it was an extremely negative one.

He shakes his head, explaining, “I only know about him ‘cause I’m here running my first job for him.”

“Interesting. And you are…?”

He stares down into his cup.

“Just passing through,” he answers quietly.

“Just-Passing-Through—what an interesting name!” You tease, hand landing gently on his bicep. “Is it foreign?”

The stranger snorts. Eyes darting across the space, you scan the room again for Joel, giggling artificially with the stranger.

“So,” He gestures awkwardly to the dusty, yellowing, crowded room. “You live here?”

You nod, gazing intently into his hazel eyes. The boy’s cute, there’s no denying it, and a tiny voice in your head tells you to forget about Miller, to actually try with this guy and experience something normal, something simple for a change.

But it is a tiny voice, and quickly, another louder, deeper and richer one reemerges to dominate over the softer echoes in your head. “I like needy” “you think of me when you’re touchin’ this pretty pussy?” “Takin’ it so good, pretty girl—”

The pair of bandits in front of you inadvertently shuffle a few feet to the left, clearing a direct path, right down the center of the room. You’re graced with an illuminating glimpse through the disorderly crowd.

He’s leaning against the old gas stove, burly arms crossed over his chest, apparently deep in conversation with your father. Shit. He looks so fucking fine in that dark t-shirt; your breath catches slightly as you trail your gaze up to his face, remembering the way his soft stubble felt against your neck, the way those hands felt on your tits, your ass, your waist, buried inside you…

Cool it, you scold yourself. We’ve still got work to do.

“You like music?” You ask abruptly, returning your attention to the lanky boy at your side.

Taken aback, he rubs the back of his neck, replying, “Uhh, I guess?”

“Great.” Plucking his cup from his grasp and placing it above the fireplace, you hold out your hands to him. He smiles a soft, sweet, shy smile—excitement burgeoning in his timid eyes—and links his fingers with yours.

Pulling the stranger across the room, you briefly lock eyes with Emma, whose mouth gapes open as she relays her classic what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you-and-also-you’re-my-hero expression, which you return with your own specialty, an I-don’t-know-how-we-got-here-but-here-we-are shrug. You make a point not to look in Joel’s direction, giggling affectionately as you climb the stairs with your gaze fixed on the boy’s. It was better if he thought you were doing this because you wanted to and not just to make him jealous.

So what if it was a petty game to play? Games had won you Joel the first time. They could sure as hell win you him again.

Your door creaks on its hinges as you press your free hand to it, the occupied one still interlaced between gentle, long fingers. Guiding the boy into the room, you make a conscious choice to leave the door ajar. Sure, it felt riskier (and that alone was enough to entice you), but it also seemed more natural—something a stupid, horny youngster would do.

The stranger stands self-consciously in the middle of your room, taking in the unmade bed, the faded, distressed curtains, and the old cassette player on your dresser. Shuffling over, you hit play, and Jimi Hendrix’s skilled fingers work their magic over the ancient speakers.

Spinning around to face him, you lean back casually against the hard, wooden edge of the dresser.

“You know it?” You ask, voice infused with seduction, intrigue, and mystery—all those things that men seemed to enjoy.

He frowns in concentration. “Heard it, probably couldn’t name it.”

“Can’t name Hendrix?” You gasp, feigning offense with a hand over your heart. He shrugs shyly, smiling down at his feet.

He really was sweet. Something extremely gentle dominated his disposition, something that pulled you in and asked you not to leave. He’d watch meteor showers with you and lend you his jacket if you shivered within a 10-mile radius of him. He’d ask, “is this okay?” before laying you down and making sweet love to you—missionary, of course, so he could look into your eyes and steal soft moans from your mouth with passionate kisses. Hell, he’d probably get straight for you, ditch the fast life, build a nursery and raise babies with you.

You fling out your hand, daring him to take it. Hesitantly, he moves to grasp your fingers in his, looking down to search your softened stare.

“You’re pretty fearless, huh?” He strokes your index affectionately with his thumb.

Chuckling under your breath, you lift a curious hand to trace his cheekbone. “I know what I want,” you reply in a partly seductive, partly earnest whisper. He ducks his head, and you rise onto your tippy toes to press your lips to his, butterflies dancing in your stomach.

“M’I interrupting somethin’?” A deep voice booms from the doorway.

The stranger swings around, revealing one half-annoyed, half-amused Joel Miller, arms crossed, leaning informally against the frame. Your heart lurches in your chest, drumming hard and fast. Stifling the reaction, you fix your eyes unabashedly onto his, recognizing the unchecked danger roaming his gaze.

Oh, fuck.

“Joel.” You acknowledge him coolly. “Nice to have you back.”

He ignores your reproachful taunt and the pointed tone you deliver it in, breaking away from your glare. The tense, tall form next to you shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Joel draws an understated smirk, drinking in the effect of his presence. “You’re needed downstairs.”

You raise an interrogative eyebrow at him. “For what?”

“Not you, sweetheart,” Joel condescends. “Him.”

You gape at him, gaze darting between the two men, not comprehending a damn thing.

“Oh!” The boy lunges forward, extending a gangly hand toward Joel. “You must be the boss, then, yeah?” He gestures back to you. “Told her earlier I was startin’ out with you tonight. Thanks a lot for the opportunity, man, really—” he rambles.

Joel shows no signs of acknowledgment aside from an inconspicuous twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you snort involuntarily—defensively—as over-correction corrupts your tone, gushing, “Joel is not my dad.”

Subtle amusement flashes across Miller’s expression.

“Oh,” the boy responds, hands dropping to his sides in embarrassment.

Joel clears his throat, interrupting the brief interlude of painfully awkward muteness. You think a silent thank you to Jimi Hendrix’s guitar for making the moment a tad less excruciating. “Down the stairs and to the left,” Miller instructs. “They’re waitin’ on you.”

The stranger nods. Shuffling towards the door, he spins on his heels, relaying to you a sheepish wave, mumbling out a hopeful “see you around.”

He leaves. The din from the main floor and the music from the speakers punctuates your tense stand-off with Joel Miller as genuine annoyance clouds your thoughts.

You simmer speechlessly.

“Good song,” he mentions off-hand. Stifling a scoff at the nonchalance, the cockyness, and the sheer casualness of his demeanour, your annoyance swells.

“You’re needed downstairs.” You mock his deep voice, throwing up air quotes to drive the derision home. “Really, Miller? That’s the best you could come up with?”

A shrug.

“S’true, sweetheart. Go n’ see for yourself if you want.”

“Bullshit.”

Again, he shrugs, eyeing you up hungrily, visibly entertained by your flustered state.

“Y’know, Joel, I actually liked this one,” you mutter coolly, realizing the genuine truth of the sentiment as the words roll off your tongue.

“You could do better.”

Huffing a quick breath, you cross your arms and roll your eyes dramatically.

Joel bathes in your ire for only a moment before pushing off the frame and shutting the cracked, dilapidated door behind his back. A familiar tingling spreads through your core, mounting to a buzz as he closes the distance between you. He weaves a hand behind your back—there’s a click, and then the music’s stopped.

“So, that’s it?“ You challenge, Joel’s proximity doing a number on your nervous system. “Just gonna keep ignoring me til’ I’ve got my eyes on someone else?”

Tone both sincere and playful, he rumbles, “jus’ cause I can’t have you, angel, doesn’ mean some other jerk-off gets to.”

Damn it. Damn it right to hell.

Joel’s downright possessiveness makes you weak in the knees, ringing in your ears like a bible hymn. The ridges and valleys of words spell out come home; you think a silent prayer to God, begging him for the strength to resist them. But Joel’s magnetism beckons you towards sin, and no God stands a chance against the unholy look in those darkening eyes.

It serves no use, fighting against it. You craved Joel like a smoker craves nicotine—and you’d risk it all for one more fix.

You needed the man to cave.

“You can have me, Joel.”

A dangerous smile teases his lips. Then, he ducks his head, slowly shaking it side to side.

“Trust me, angel—you don’t want that.”

A huff. “Yes, I do,” you insist.

“You want me to fuck you, that’s it,” voice deepening a near-octave, he straightens to tower over you. “‘Cause if I actually had you…?” He whistles under his breath as the sentence trails off.

A hand cups your face, one wanton finger absentmindedly tracing your cheekbone.

“I’m not a good man, sweetheart.”

Determination courses through your blood as his warning sets your nerves alight. You grasp his thick wrist, turning to place a soft kiss on the skin of his palm. His shadowed eyes lock onto yours, drinking in the sight of your lips dragging across his hand.

“Well,” you purr, seizing what you recognize as the perfect opportunity, “I’m not a ‘good girl,’ either.”

“And I never asked for good, Miller.”

A moment passes—only Joel’s breath, your heartbeat, and the echoes of your invitation disrupt the heavy silence.

And temptation wins him over, once again.

A powerful arm snakes around your back, spinning you around easily. The backs of your knees hit the edge of your mattress, and before you know it, Joel’s pushing your waist down roughly, settling himself between your legs as he looms over your body.

“Y’know,” he muses darkly, eyes wild with lust. “You got some serious fuckin’ daddy issues.”

He undoes the button of your jeans, grabbing the denim at the waist and yanking it unceremoniously over your hips, your ass, and halfway down your thighs. Without wasting a second, he pushes your dampened panties to the side, easing a thick finger between your dripping folds.

“Remind me to thank your old man for that.”

He groans with approval at your wetness, your readiness for him. Crying out “Joel!” in surprise and pleasure, you dig your fingernails into his forearm.

“Fuck, angel,” he breathes softly, watching his digit pumping in and out of you, “Jus’ can’t bring myself to let anyone else touch you like this.” He palms himself through his jeans to relieve some of the building arousal.

“Wanna be the only man this needy lil’ pussy comes for.”

It’s not enough. Tears leak from your eyes and your knuckles go white as you squirm on the unmade sheets—Joel’s touch fills you with ecstasy, but it’s still not enough.

“Joel—” you whine, fighting to prop yourself up on your elbows, forcing yourself to meet his lust-filled gaze before wandering first to the sight of his fingers fucking you, then to the bulge in his pants.

You need more of him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he coos, following your line of vision. ”But I’ll split you right open f’I don’t warm you up first.”

When he slips another finger between your walls, your back collapses against the mattress. Mewls and whimpers tumble from your lips—male satisfaction darkens Joel’s complexion with every moan you give him.

“Know what I thought about, away on the job?” His fingers alternate between curling roughly inside your cunt and rubbing your own slick against your swollen bud. “Thought aaalll about this pretty fuckin’ pussy, takin’ my cock from behind.”

“Pictured it when I used my hand.”

Mouth frozen in a silent “ah,” you look into his hungry, heavy eyes and the grey-speckled hair falling into them.

“Yeah?” You manage, voice involuntarily sliding up an octave.

He cups your cheek and nods.

Your eyebrows knit together in euphoria as his talk and his tantalizing fingers bring you right up to the edge of your climax.

And then Joel’s abruptly pulling his fingers out, leaving you gasping for air on the damn brink of bliss. He drags your jeans and underwear towards your ankles, tearing them from your body and tossing them carelessly onto the bed.

“You take that pill I left you?”

You nod enthusiastically, watching intently as Joel’s wet, wide fingers work impatiently at his buckle. “S’good, baby.” He pulls his own denim over his hips, smirking arrogantly as amazement crosses your expression. You’d forgotten how big he was. “‘Cause I’m gonna need you to take it again.”

It feels like the first time all over again, watching his heavy length bob up and down in front of you. You wonder what he tastes like.

Before you can find out, he’s yanked your legs over his hips, leaning forward to guide the tip of his manhood between your aching folds and teasing you with the dark head of his cock.

You’re moaning a soft “feels s’good, Joel” when he pushes himself entirely inside you, eliciting a sharp squeal from your lips as the curve of his cock grazes that spot inside you—as he bottoms out completely. He releases a low groan; it sounds like angels sighing.

Needing to see more of you, he bunches your shirt above your breasts. “Look at you, baby,” He palms one roughly, teasing and pinching the nipple as his thighs snap against your ass, the torturous combination bringing you closer and closer to oblivion.

“S’fuckin’ pretty with your tits bouncin’ for me.”

Lost in his eyes, expression frozen in ecstasy, you anchor your nails into his forearms, responding to his thrusts by grinding your hips against his.

“Fuckin hell, sweetheart.”

Joel’s eyebrows knit together as he gives you every inch of himself without holding back; your body responds to him—muscles quiver uncontrollably, cunt squeezes devotedly around his cock. The only word you seem to remember is ‘Joel.’

“Squirmin’ like crazy, baby,” he mumbles. “Been waitin’ for me?” His harsh, rhythmic strokes fuck you mute—but that was never an excuse with Joel. A calloused hand circles your gasping throat, pressing softly against your windpipe in an unmistakeable command.

“Words, angel.” Possessiveness underpins his husky demand. “Anyone else fuck you while I was gone?”

You meet his shadowed eyes, gaze hazy with pleasure. “N-no, Joel.”

He groans with approval.

“Fuckin’ right. That’s my girl.”

Your breath quickens as your clit begins to twitch, release simmering between your hips. “Oh god, Joel, I-I can’t—”

When he ducks his head into your neck, the scent of sandalwood soap mingling with his sweat overwhelms you with need; Joel’s teeth nip at your skin affectionately, beard brushing your collarbone as his thumb finds its way to your throbbing bud.

“Ohmygod—Joel, Joel, Joel—” uttering his name in worship, you reach your climax the second his finger presses into your clit—toes curling inside your socks, fingernails digging into the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“That’s it, good girl,” he praises, growing harder and harder as his name tumbles from your lips, punctuating the rhythmic sound of his broad thighs slapping against your skin. “Jus like your lil’ pussy.” His hands move to your waist, squeezing your hips between his calloused hands as he bounces you up and down his pulsing cock.

“Fuckin’ young n’ needy.”

As he fucks you through your orgasm, you feel Joel working another one out of you. Wanton whines and moans escape your throat. Catching glimpses of his broad, towering form over you only makes the fluttering more intense—meeting his wild eyes only brings the simmering heat inside you to a downright boil.

“Please—come inside me—want it so bad—Joel—”

“Keep fuckin’ quiet,” He growls. “Tryna make your poor fuckin’ dad hear you beggin’ for my cum?”

Joel loved fucking you like this.

He loved fucking you with only a shitty, thin door separating your naked, eager body from all the blissfully ignorant assholes he worked with. He loved watching you writhe pathetically under his weight, cunt wrapped around him so desperately.

Made him feel like a man.

“Gonna give me another one?” He goads, voice straining slightly as his own release builds fast between his thighs. “C’mon, baby, wanna feel this pussy comin’ on my cock—js’one more, sweetheart, that’s right—”

His breathing turns shallow as his words tumble out; your eyes roll to the skies as he takes you there again, your near-sobs of “thank you thank you thank you” stifled just in time by the rush of his hand to your lips. Cradling your head, he pulls you into his shoulder and buries himself impossibly deep inside your cunt. You distantly register his muffled “shit—s’fucking good, baby” as his seed soaks your walls. Joel pushes his cum right into your guts with a couple of final, decelerating strokes.

Head still cradled in his neck, stars dance before your eyes. Joel’s chest heaves with every breath he takes, and his exhalations tickle the top vertebrae of your spine. You let your heartbeats settle together, frozen in place as he slowly softens inside you.

Finally, he pulls out with a gentle groan.

“Gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

You slump onto the mattress, a cocktail of his cum and your slick leaking out of your pussy, still unable to string along a cohesive sentence.

Softly smiling, he adds under his breath, “Be at the wrong end of every conman and criminal’s rifle f’anyone ever found out about this.”

You prop yourself up on trembling elbows, watching Joel pull his jeans back up over his hips.

“I guess we’ll just have to run away together,” you hum, half-joking, half-serious. “You can teach me how to be a big-bad-smuggler.”

He chuckles, the rumble in his chest blanketing your still-pulsing body with an unfamiliar warmth.

“Yeah, you’d sure like that, huh?” His eyes dance with playfulness, a rare vision of Joel Miller. It suits him. “Wouldn’t last a damn day with you teasin’ me on the job.” He kneels down, finding your underwear and slipping it onto your ankles, wriggling it up your calves—a practiced movement, like something he’d done a million times before. “M’not sure you’d be too crazy about the clickers—though sick n’ decaying does seem to be your type.”

You giggle, lightly slapping his firm shoulder as he bends over you, pulling your damp panties up. His fingers smooth the distressed fabric delicately, lingering on the skin of your hip for a brief, cherishing touch. Silence settles between you as Joel’s thumb strokes your hip absentmindedly. Glasses clink and laughter erupts downstairs.

Brusquely, he clears his throat and straightens up, a hard mask of apathy descending on his features once again.

“Clean yourself up, alright?” He smooths his hair back, heading for the door.

“Joel.”

He knows the meaning behind your tone before you do.

It’s not that there’s anything, in particular, you need him to hear—you just don’t want him to leave.

Not yet. Not now.

Hand on the doorknob, his looming form stills.

“You should…” he begins, eyes glued to the door, throat constricting around his words. “You should go out with that guy. From earlier. Be good for you to see someone your age, y’know.”

“Well, I don’t want that guy,” you respond, sitting up on the mattress, fixing your stare on his back. “Do you really need me to say it, Miller? I don’t care how old you are, or that you’re friends with my dad, or how many people you’ve wasted,” you ramble, the taste of exasperation and agitation building on your tongue. “Hell, I wouldn’t even care if you were fuckin’ infected. I like you.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyebrows furrowing together in frustration.

“Well, don’t.”

He exhales, shaking his head with frustration.

“Shouldn’t’ve let this happen again. Made a damn mess of things by fuckin’ you.”

For some extremely unwelcome reason, his words bite like hell. You’d borne your soul to him, been vulnerable with him, had him inside you twice now, and all he viewed you as was a regret. Crestfallen, tears stinging your eyes, you roll onto your side, facing away from him, still half-dressed. You don’t have the capacity to care about how pitiful a sight it is, only wanting the man to leave you to tend to your wounds in peace.

But, of course, he doesn’t.

He won’t.

That hand just can’t seem to twist that fuckin’ knob. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he mutters. “Okay.”

Something like hope begins to bloom in your chest as you hear the concession leaking from his words. You try to beat it down, focussed on the cracks and divots in the wall facing your tear-lined eyes.

“Tess is gone for the week—job outside the Zone.” Despite the tortured strain in his voice, it tastes of desire. “Place’ll be empty. Jus’ don’t let anyone see you.”

With that, he wrenches the door open; a brief swell of noise floods the room before he seals you back in. Still curled up into yourself, the beginnings of a smile etch their way onto your lips. You turn into your pillow, grinning into the linen, unable to contain it.

Victory.

Joel Miller was a hard man. Of that, you were certain. absolutely certain.

But you were also certain that he was soft on you.

And that felt like winning.

—

Read part 1: Dark but Just a Game

Read part 3: Let Me Love You Like a Woman (Let Me Hold You Like a Baby)

—

TAGLIST: @witchy-jadda @bookofbee @ninebluehearts @jbcalway @jasminedragoon @mads-grace4 @anyas-stuff @liviloo12346 @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @stardust-chords-enthusiast @fruitcupsworld @sallymilkweed

—

TAGLIST: @witchy-jadda @ninebluehearts@jbcalway @jasminedragoon@mads-grace4 @anyas-stuff @liviloo94 @ninebluehearts

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violetrainbow412-blog · 8 months

Text

Birthday wishes [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: everyone seems to forget Spencer's 30th birthday, but he only cares that you remember it.

second part here!

contents: childhood best friends, idiots who-don't-know-they're-in-love, surprise parties, pure fluff honestly

If you like my work leave a comment or reblog, that would make me very happy!

The first thing Spencer did when he got home was get rid of his converse and even though it had been a relatively calm day he was exhausted, so he went straight to the bedroom to throw himself on the bed. He lay back for a while, just enjoying the calm, and then he fumbled for the cell phone in his briefcase. He hit the call button on the contact he'd wanted to talk to all day and then he waited patiently.

“L/N family residence, who do you want me to contact you with?”

"Hello, is Miss Y/N by any chance?"

"Who's looking for her?" you continued and a smile escaped from his lips. It was usual for you to respond in a silly way when he called you, so he was used to it by now.

"Her best friend, Dr. Spencer Reid"

“Spencer Reid? Spencer Reid, I don't think that sounds familiar…” you teased, hearing him snort from the other end of the line “Ah! Wait, I remember you."

“After knowing each other for like 20 years, I hope so” he laughed, and then you too.

Sure enough, the man and you were friends from a very early age. You were his neighbor when he lived in Las Vegas and your parents had always been quite nice to the family, knowing the delicate situation they faced, so it wasn’t difficult for you to become friends. You were the first friend he ever had, a real one, so there was a special fondness between you, even when he had gone off to college at such a young age and distance had subsequently separated the two of you.

You always called each other and every time he visited his mother it was a law that you also received a visit, even if the time was only enough for you to greet each other with a hug. You also traveled to DC a few times because of your work and you even had your own key to his apartment, so if he was busy with a case, you could stay there instead of paying for a hotel. Your relationship was like that of a brother and sister, although as this familiarity grew, it was slightly intervened by loving feelings that you didn’t want to face yet but were definitely there.

You knew a lot about his life from those long-distance calls that happened at least once a week, and right now he was excited about something in particular. He was exactly one week away from his thirty-year birthday, and he hoped that, like every year, you would fly from Las Vegas to see him. It was a tradition, whether it was thunder or lightning, you two hadn't missed a single birthday from the other since he had to move out of state. So Spencer was hoping that this call was for you guys to plan what you were going to do; regularly your birthdays were in restaurants or nice places and his were at home, with food delivery and classic movies, or when you felt very adventurous you could go to a museum or just walk through the streets.

"How are you, Reid? How is everything?"

"Not so good, but not so bad either" he laughed "And you?"

"Everything has been terrible, it's like a curse is on my head, I swear" you complained. Spencer got up from his comfortable position to sit on the bed and although he knew that most of the time you said things like that you were just exaggerating, this time he had a bad feeling.

"Why?”

You started to tell him about the financial problems you were going through and he, with his mind still focused on your visit, thought about offering to pay for your flight to DC, but his spirits fell completely when you told him that you were being put under too much pressure at work.

“We're going to have a meeting next Friday with HR to discuss responsibilities and so on, but honestly I don't think things will get better. Right now I'm working from home because there are pending issues that have to be resolved as soon as possible and I barely have time to think during the day, you seriously can't imagine how busy I've been.”

When you finished the story, he remained silent, feeling his chest squeezed by the direction that things were now taking. With that scenario, your visit was too complicated and he was debating internally about whether he should tell you something about it or not. As he had thought before, the money to have you with him wasn’t a problem, but dealing with the issue of your shortened times was totally different. He didn't want to make you feel guilty for not being able to go, let alone disrupt activities that he knew were important to you, like that meeting you just mentioned. So what should he do? He wanted you to be there, but he wasn't going to make you.

“Crash? You still there?" you asked. Only you and his mother called him that, since his nickname had arisen when he was just a child due to his clumsiness, a trait that, in your opinion, he still retained. It wasn't offensive coming from you, even he was glad to know that this was something that belonged to the two women he loved the most.

"Yes, I'm here. I just was thinking"

"You always do, I don't think there's a single second when that mind of yours rests," you said amused "Anyway, what's new?"

Spencer hoped that you would at least apologize to him for your future absence or ask him what he intended to do today. But you seemed not even aware of it.

“Nothing, really. Today we're done with a case and if I'm lucky I'll be able to rest this weekend” he murmured. Sometimes he would tell you things about the cases, omitting bloody and dangerous details, so he leaned back and started recounting all the events into the speaker of his phone.

You two continued to talk for almost an hour, but the topic of the birthday didn't come up once and Spencer didn't try to bring it up. After all, there were still a few days to go and in the worst case, you could at least call him that day to congratulate him, right?

But as the days went by, the anxiety ate him more and he even called you a few days after that, but he only received a response from your mailbox and after a few minutes a short text message where you explained that you were a little busy with work, but that you would call him as soon as you could. The fact that during those days he found out that the entire team already had something to do on Friday didn’t help his mood too much.

Hotch and JJ discussed a sleepover for Henry and Jack after work, he overheard Garcia and Morgan agreeing to visit a new bar for the night, Rossi said he was going to visit one of his ex-wives and when he thought he could still invite Emily to hang out, she went over to talk to him about the therapist appointment that she clearly didn't want to go to, but had to. There was no remedy, everyone had plans for his birthday and he didn’t want to interfere with them. Resignation was the only thing the doctor had left during the remaining days, and when he least expected it, the entire week had already passed.

He used to wake up to your off-key version of the birthday song and a cupcake with a candle stuck in it, then you'd make breakfast and you'd eat it together; so not having any of that when he got out of bed, he felt his heart break a little. This year he thought he would get your call first thing in the morning, but when he checked his phone he didn't even find a message announcing that there was a case. He didn't want to go to the office to do paperwork on his birthday, but the thought of at least getting a hug from his coworkers cheered him up slightly.

He put on his favorite shirt, a new pair of pants, and the converse that you had given him and he only wore on special occasions, before leaving the apartment. For some reason Spencer enjoyed taking the subway, perhaps more than anyone he knew, and this time he stopped at a coffee shop that was just before arriving to buy something to drink, since he didn't feel like eating anything.

He undertook the entire trip lost in his thoughts and when he least expected it, he was already at the headquarters. He checked his phone, again, but he still didn't get any notifications or missed calls. Many times you had insisted that he get a more modern model and he had refused, but now he was wondering if the advances in technology would have allowed him to communicate with you through a video call. It would be embarrassing to ask Garcia for a favor, so he concluded that he would just wait, after all if he hadn't communicated it must have been for something important.

Upon entering, he greeted everyone with a huge smile and he felt somewhat disconcerted when the others greeted him normally, without hugs or cake on the table. He sat down at his desk to start going through the documents he already had and the others continued on their own business. It was common for Emily or Morgan to come up to him for a chat, but on this particular day it was as if they were avoiding him. Even Penelope, who he swore would congratulate him, seemed to have completely forgotten when he came to her place with the excuse of needing a piece of information from the previous case. When Hotch called him to his office, the man's eyes lit up, believing that his boss had remembered the celebration of the date.

"Can you do me a favor?" he had asked, without taking his eyes off whatever he was writing "Donovan needs to sort some files and honestly he has no idea how to do it and I'm too busy to explain, could you do it?"

Donovan was in charge of the physical file inside the building and it was not usual for him to request this kind of support, but Reid still said yes, and the rest of the day passed with him locked in a cellar full of filing cabinets. He had made sure to take his phone with him and every time he turned it on to check it and he realized that there was no sign of you his disappointment increased. He came to wonder if his mind hadn't been playing tricks on him and, for some incredible reason, he had gotten the day wrong and it wasn't really October 12; but when he saw the calendar, he verified that this wasn’t possible.

“Are you out of punishment yet?” Emily taunted, when after many hours she saw him again by the bullpen. At another time Spencer would have laughed, but right now his mood wasn't quite right for it and he just looked at her, more hostile than he intended. “Hotch left you some documents on your desk, he asked if you could review them before you go. It's urgent,” she informed him.

It was obvious that this would take time and he felt like crying at the thought of having to stay longer than the regular time. It was almost an hour after everyone else had gone home that he finished, feeling somewhat annoyed to find out that even Aaron had already left.

He doubted whether to go home or go to dinner somewhere, because he knew that if he returned to the apartment he would sink into sadness. His birthdays didn't mean anything special on their own, what he liked was to feel loved, to enjoy the company, but above all to see you.

While he was leaving the building, and as if you were reading his mind, a call vibrated on his cell phone. Seeing that it was you, Spencer didn't take more than two seconds to answer, thinking that maybe after the whole day he could improve.

"You won't believe what happened to me!" you said, without even greeting him. It wasn't the kind of sentence he was expecting, but he still decided to listen.

"What happened?"

“There is a boy, at my work, his name is Brandon. Well, Brandon and I have talked a few times now and he seems like a nice person, plus he's pretty handsome and he finally asked me out on a date with him, can you believe it?" you murmured excitedly, and a lump formed in Spencer's throat "We're going out today, the meeting was canceled and we decided to take advantage of the time, but I can't decide whether to wear the red dress or the black and gold outfit that my mom gave me and I need the help of an expert. You have seen both, which one do you think suits me better?

Spencer was quiet for a moment, processing the situation she was going through, and it wasn't until you said his name that he reacted.

"I like your red dress," he murmured, with a sad smile that you clearly couldn't see. He couldn't believe you were going out with a man you'd never mentioned and it affected him more than he expected you to be asking for advice because a pang of jealousy shot through his chest.

You were telling him that you were going to have a date on his birthday.

“I thought the same! I guess that will be the best option."

"I guess…"

"Where are you now? At home?" you kindly asked. Your tone almost made him angry.

“I just got off work. I'm on my way to take the subway"

"Oh, excellent. Today there were no cases?"

"Not fortunately. I'm glad to know that the criminals at least respected my birthday."

With that said, there was a deathly silence between you, to the point where he wondered if you were still on the other end of the line or if you understood what he was implying.

“Spencer, my God, I…”

"It's okay if you forgot," he said, trying to play the matter down, but the tears that were beginning to accumulate in his eyes indicated otherwise. The guilty tone with which you had spoken was more than enough to know that, probably, if he hadn’t mentioned it, you wouldn’t have done it either "Nobody remembered it"

"I'm so sorry" you practically sobbed "Between all the work and stuff I... I don't even know why I forgot, forgive me”

"It’s okay" he replied. But it wasn't okay.

“Can I do something to fix it? Whatever, you just… ask me what you want and I'll do it. I swear," you mumbled, sounding desperate.

He tried to convince you that there was no problem with it and you continued to pour out apologies, which Spencer knew were worthless now but he wasn't selfish enough to ignore them. He wanted to scream, cry, or do anything to get that weight off his chest and even though he loved the sound of your voice right now it was the last thing he needed.

“Anyway, I'm about to enter the subway and uh, I have almost no signal there. I'll call you later, okay?" the question didn’t wait for an answer, because he immediately added: "Good luck on your date, bye"

If he had considered going out to celebrate, he knew that now what he urgently needed was to go home or he would break down in tears in the middle of the street. The ride on the subway lasted longer than he would have liked, as he longed to go to sleep and find out if it would allow him to forget a bit about the shitty day he had just had. When he was finally in front of the door with the number 23 in gold letters, he struggled enormously to put the key into the lock, because the tears in his eyes were already clouding his vision, and he believed that the heaviness on his shoulders wouldn’t allow him to advance.

The key turned one turn, then another, and then Spencer was allowed inside the house.

One week before…

The team was meeting in the conference room at the request of Penelope, who had asked everyone to stay after the scheduled time, waiting to receive the news of what they thought would surely be a new case.

"And Reid?" Morgan asked, noticing the empty chair next to him, because they had seen him leave and that was reason enough to have questions about his absence.

"I'm glad you asked because this meeting is related to him," Garcia replied. With the push of a button, a face appeared on the main screen and almost everyone present was surprised to see who it was "She is Y/N Y/L/N, do you remember her?"

"You were at Prentiss's funeral, right?"

"That's right" you replied with a smile, looking directly at the aforementioned "I still have a little trouble understanding, uh... that whole thing, to be honest" you joked.

"Y/N asked us for this space to discuss something related to Spencer's birthday, which will be next Friday" explained Hotch, who was the other member who was already aware of the matter "The microphone is all yours"

"Okay, so where do I start? It's great to see all of you and I hope you're doing well. Every year I visit Spencer on his birthday and we spend the day together, but since this year is his 30th birthday I wanted to do something special and I want to know if you would be willing to help me”

"Tell us your plan, precious"

“I don't intend to take up a lot of your time, it's simple. I will call him today to insinuate that this year I can’t go and all I want you to do is pretend that day that you don’t remember that it’s his birthday”

"Wait, why do you want us to ignore it?" JJ muttered with a frown.

"I want to throw him a surprise party in his apartment" you explained with a smile and then the request you were making to them didn't sound so farfetched "You can tell him you have plans that day and if he mentions something you just say you can't go. I bought my flight for that day and I will be in the city starting in the morning, so I can prepare everything”

"And how will we do if he invites us somewhere?"

Morgan suggested using a decoy for him and pretending they were taking him somewhere else, but you balked at the idea.

“I have all my hopes that he doesn’t mention anything. If so, we'll manage somehow. And I know that asking for that is difficult because we are all his friends, but if necessary, avoid him completely that day. We need him to know under no circumstances that we have a surprise for him."

“He is very smart and he will figure it out. If we make him believe that we forgot he will concentrate on that” you argued. Although the others didn't want to admit it, they knew that you had a point there "I just hope you don't have some unforeseen case or something like that, because I would hate for that lie to be for nothing"

You discussed some more until you concluded that your plan was the most viable. The girls would help you with ideas for decorations and David even offered to buy all the drinks. Although the others weren’t surprised by his generosity, you were slightly upset, but this didn’t prevent you from accepting the offer and thanking him in advance.

“It really means a lot to me that you guys help me, thanks” you murmured happily, once everything was settled, and then your phone started ringing in the background “It's Spencer! I have to answer him. If something happens, you guys will tell me, right?"

"Take it for granted" smiled Garcia, who was the one who had lived with you the most, but everyone supported her from the bottom.

"Fine, thanks everyone, thanks Agent Hotch, I'll see you later!" you said goodbye, hanging up the video call and simultaneously answering the phone.

Everyone got up from the conference room and Rossi was the first to speak, a smile on his face.

"Call me crazy..." he started to say "but something tells me that girl and Spencer are going to end up together"

"The pretty boy loves her, but he still doesn't notice it," Morgan laughed, as they all walked out. "Whenever we go to Vegas, his eyes shine when he sees her."

“And she's setting this up for him! It's so sweet" Penelope sighed, who had already taken Derek's arm "But the part about being mean to Spencer doesn't convince me much… he's going to be so sad"

"Look at it this way, babygirl: if he's sad he'll be happier than usual with the surprise."

"Nobody's going to screw it up," Emily threatened them, pointing her index finger at them, and the rest of the team promised they wouldn't.

Meanwhile, your first part of the plan was in the works, with the late-night call he had made to you. You had to admit that lying to your best friend was something you hated, but with any luck it would all be worth it when you could hug him and give him that gift that you had carefully kept on one of the shelves, that you hoped could be enough for such an important event like the first thirty years of life.

What happened during the week is history, which was consolidated at the moment he turned the handle without even imagining what awaited him.

When Spencer walked through the door the first thing he did was turn on the light and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack when he heard the screams coming from inside. There were purple balloons scattered all over the floor, a congratulations banner, a table full of presents, and everyone was there.

The shock was such that he couldn't even manage to say a word and some of the tears that he had been holding back were finally able to come out, but this time for different reasons.

They hadn’t forgotten.

"How…? What are you doing here?"

“We came to celebrate your birthday, genius,” Morgan laughed, as he reached over to hug his friend and ruffled his hair brotherly.

A wave of hugs preceded that and even he received a couple of kisses on each cheek from Rossi, which finally made him laugh. He seemed like a child, completely fascinated with everything around him and still processing the situation.

In the midst of it all, he couldn't help wondering how his friends had been able to enter the apartment, since none of them had a copy of the key and the landlady was too suspicious to have let them in just like that, but he felt happy for the direction the day had taken.

“First of all, we have another surprise for you,” said JJ, obviously excited. The rest shared complicit glances and García began to record with his cell phone, which made him a little nervous "But you have to close your eyes."

Spencer looked at everyone else as if waiting for a confirmation of that, and seeing a couple of nods he did what his friend was asking. Just to make sure Jennifer covered his eyelids with her hands and in this way she turned him around, while he wondered what this surprise could be about.

"Are you ready?" she asked and the man answered yes with a hum. There was silence for a second, as if they were checking something, and then she withdrew her hand. "Open them."

Many possibilities went through the man's mind for whatever he would see at that moment, but when he did, he felt his heart stop for a moment. There you were, looking at him with a sweet smile and wearing that red dress.

The rest of those present were waiting for who would make the first move, because the two of you had froze looking at each other, and García was only pointing the camera carefully as you had requested.

"Surprise?" you said shyly, noticing that Spencer hadn't said anything.

You were afraid that after the call you had he was upset with you in some way, but a second after he recovered from the shock he was already on top of you, holding you by the waist to spin you through the air while you laughed heartily.

"You came," he said, his voice cracking, but completely brimming with happiness.

"Of course I would, Spencer, do you think I'd miss your birthday?"

"But you... your work"

"All a vile lie"

"And that boy?"

“There was never such a thing,” you laughed, freeing yourself from the weight of guilt “You're my only boy,” you added affectionately, palms planted squarely on your friend's cheeks. He still had you in his arms and was grinning from ear to ear at your answers "I'm so sorry I told you all that, I just didn't want you to suspect anything, can you forgive me?"

"No!" he practically squealed and you widened your eyes in amazement “Today was the most terrible day because I thought you didn't care about me anymore, you made me suffer! All of you!" your friend complained, looking away from you briefly to look at those present.

"In our defense, she asked us to," Emily laughed, holding up both hands in surrender.

"You're so mean," he murmured, turning his attention back to you. "But I love you so much.”

A group sigh filled the room as he engulfed you in a hug and from your position you could see the teasing or tender smiles they all had. It wasn't very common to see the youngest of the team in that position, much less saying those things, plus we had to add the collective opinion that you were madly in love.

"Seriously, forgive me"

"It’s okay…" he whispered close to your ear "You're here, that's what matters"

His body felt so soft and safe that you didn't want to stop hugging him, but you knew that if you took too long it would create an uncomfortable environment for the rest, so you had no choice but to gently pull him away from you. The woman asked your friend, just to annoy him, if he liked his surprise and although he didn't say anything, the giant smile and flushed cheeks were enough of an answer.

"Come, you won't escape my melodious voice" you murmured after a few seconds, when the commotion calmed down a bit.

Taking him by the hand, you led him to the table where you had the chocolate cake with a couple of candles that formed the number 30. Everyone sang the song while the wick burned down and the boy looked anywhere, with that certain shyness characteristic of him. When he blew out the candle to make his wish, you all applauded and that started the celebration.

There were some appetizers on the table and Rossi had stocked all the drinks quite well, as he had promised. As the minutes passed you hovered here and there to check that things were in order, arranging everything as if it were your own apartment, and Spencer could only smile at how well you seemed to get along with everyone. The last time you'd seen the team was, sure enough, during Emily's funeral, but that didn't mean there wasn't some history between you.

He still remembered the feeling of shame when in the early years he had asked Gideon for permission to summon someone to the hotel during a case in Las Vegas. It wasn't that he was ashamed of you, but that he was ashamed of having to reveal something so important in his life to his FBI colleagues. The agent didn't object at all, but that didn't spare the man from being grilled by Derek and Elle about which mysterious lady their younger coworker was talking to. Over the years, people left the unit, and others joined, but the constant was always you. Even now, if a replacement happened, Spencer knew that the rest of the team would take it upon themselves to introduce you to said person.

At some point he felt a tremendous nostalgia for that time and in a chain of thoughts he came to ask himself if working where he did was the right thing to do. Turning thirty was cause for celebration, but for him it was also tantamount to thinking how well he had lived up to the expectations of what he expected to have achieved at this age: How much progress should he have made in the world by now? Was it any use having that brilliant mind that everyone raved about if he was working in a government office? And what about his personal life? He wanted to get married at some point and wondered if he should be looking for love instead of criminals. Even while he was through all this, he wished he could focus on how happy his friends had made him instead of worrying about other things.

"Up to here I can see the gears of your brain" laughed someone next to him. It was Emily "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" he murmured, shaking his head softly "I was thinking about some things, it's just that"

"You should drink some more, that wine that Dave brought tastes delicious" she smiled, inviting him to come closer to the others to chat.

It was a bit ironic, but completely understandable, that even at his own birthday party he would remain a bit oblivious to the situation. Following Emily's advice, he poured himself another drink and joined the other attendees to enjoy the moment. For hours you laughed and chatted, until the drinks were running out and your drunkenness rising.

The parents of the group were the first to leave and the last was a drunk Penelope who threatened to stay there to sleep, but Derek took it upon himself to guide her to his car to take her home. It was late at night when only you and Spencer were left, amidst all the decorations in the room.

"Peace and tranquility"

"It was too much?" you laughed, knowing that your friend could become overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle.

"No, no. Just kidding"

“And was it okay for you? You had fun?" you asked, referring to the party, as the two of you sat down on the leather couch. The dress you were wearing rose to the top of your thighs and his attention strayed there for a second, so he looked up guiltily; He didn't help the blush on his cheeks that there was your cleavage.

"Everything was wonderful"

"Are you seriously not mad at me?" you insisted

"No, honey, I'm not," he laughed. You tried to ignore the fact that he had said that to you, since it wasn't something he was used to, and just smiled sheepishly, "I mean, at first I was a little, but now that I understand why you did it, I'm not anymore."

“You are already thirty… you are so old!”

"You are older than me!" he squealed, completely offended, and you responded with a laugh. Although that was true, you looked more jovial than the man, something that a variety of people had taken it upon themselves to verify.

"Now that I remember, do you want to see your gift?"

"Isn't this supposed to be my gift?" The confusion was evident in his voice and you refrained from answering, as you bolted into the room. You came back from there with a box in your hands, which you later placed on your lap with evident emotion.

“I wrapped it myself” you confessed, rather proud of yourself. You had found a piece of paper to cover with drawings of equations and small microscopes that you thought captured the essence of your friend and, of course, now that he had seen it, he had liked it a lot.

The man's fingers drummed the surface under your expectant gaze, and then he winced slightly.

"What's up?"

"I don't know, I think maybe I should open it later…"

"Spencer Reid!" you yelled. It was obvious that he was only joking with you and you knew that by the laugh that escaped his lips.

Your friend opened the box almost ceremonially and then removed the tissue paper that covered the contents: above all there were two hardcover books, one about the world of fungi and the other about poetry, next to it an hourglass, then three boxes with jigsaw puzzles, a pocket chess game, packets of Reid's favorite sweets, and last but not least, a picture of the two of you in a pretty chocolate-colored frame and a little paper envelope to go with it. One by one he was taking out the gifts and his smile only grew with each object, while he felt his heart grow with love.

"I remember this day" he murmured, referring to the photograph you had chosen. The sky was blue behind you and you were kissing Spencer's cheek, who was smiling at how spontaneous it had been “We were in a park after going to an art exhibition."

“And we bought the most delicious ice cream in the world”

"I differ, I've had better," he murmured, shrugging. The truth is that you thought that the ice cream had been delicious because of the whole panorama of that day, not so much because of the taste itself.

Spencer knew that photo would have to go on his desk in the bullpen, although the taunts he was sure the others would throw at him. Perhaps having you there would serve as a reminder that there was good in the world, despite everything he could see on the job every day.

“Oh, and I read somewhere that hourglasses help people with anxiety because it's relaxing to watch the sand fall so they can focus on it. I thought you might like it, I bought it at an antique store."

"It's very nice" he agreed, turning the object over and checking that it actually worked "I'll open the note, okay?"

Spencer always preferred that you read his letters in private because if he saw your face and knew you were reading those words he would just cringe, but you didn't seem to share that trait so you agreed to his request. As with the box, he carefully opened the envelope and then pulled out a handwritten note.

I hope you like these little gifts that try to express a huge love.

Never doubt that you are making a change in the world and that you are surrounded by people who love you, including your old neighbor who now ironically lives too far from you.

Happy 30th birthday to my favorite person in the entire world. I am confident that many more years will come for both of us.

Always yours, Y/N.

"Don't cry, Reid" you asked gently, feeling your own tears at the edge of your eyes. Spencer smiled and leaned in your direction to wrap you in a hug so hopefully you wouldn't notice if he got emotional.

"Thank you" was the only thing he managed to say.

He wanted to thank you not only for that day but for years of friendship, years of feeling like he wasn't so alone in the world if he had you by his side and even thank you for treating him like a normal kid when no one else did. And as always, you perfectly understood what he was referring to.

You stayed like that for a few minutes; Spencer tucked into the crook of your neck and cooing at the throbbing on your pulse line, and you basking in the warmth of the contact.

“Did you like the puzzles?”

"Yeah! They are great” he replied, as he moved away from you so that he could observe you “Do you want us to put one together?”

“Sure” you smiled “Just let me put on my pajamas and I'll be right back, okay?”

"Good. You look very beautiful in that dress, by the way. I don't know if I forgot to tell you” he flattered you, making you smile sincerely.

"You chose it, remember?"

Before getting up you kindly squeezed his cheek and after changing your clothes you returned to where you were. He had chosen the puzzle with the design of a Monet painting and spread it out on the floor, where the two of you settled comfortably.

Your friend took a bunch of pieces and you took another and you guys worked in silence until little by little things started to come together. He was very good at the task and very soon he already had a considerable part assembled; although you were going a little slower you followed a constant rhythm.

"Hey, Spencer"

"Yeah?" he asked, too intent on finding a place for the piece in his fingers to watch you.

“What was your birthday wish? When blowing out the candles”

"Oh, I didn't wish for anything"

"Why?" you asked confused.

Spencer looked up from the puzzle and smiled at you.

"Because my birthday wish was already right here"

It seemed obvious to him, but it took you a second to understand exactly what he meant and when you finally did, your eyes gave him the sweetest look of all.

You and your friend stayed up all night until the play was over and after that you both stumbled to bed, where you fell fast asleep in each other's arms.

At some point Spencer half-opened his eyes, prisoner of a bad dream, and when he was aware of the situation he felt the peace he needed. After that it didn't take him long to get back to sleep, with a smile on his face and his whole world held in his arms.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you

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wordstome · 3 months

Text

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

youtube

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

#anti ai #cod fanfiction #c.ai #character ai #c.ai bot #c.ai chats #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #writing #writing fanfiction #on writing #fuck ai #ai is theft #call of duty #cod #long post #I'm not putting any of this under a readmore #Youtube

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bloatedandalone04 · 6 months

Text

The Kind of Girl You Take Home - Part 3

➪the one where bradley can’t get enough of you after making things official.

Warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, unprotected sex, pda, swearing, fingering, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, pain kink, sex tape (kinda), dirty talk to the max, small breeding kink, age gap, bradley is even more whipped for you, here is a part 3 no one asked for mwah

Word Count: 8.2k | Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Thank you for 3.7k followers :')

“It’s not too late to turn back around and apologize for ditching them later, you know,” Bradley said as he parked the Bronco in the beach parking lot. “I’m sure they won’t miss us if we were to leave right now.”

You roll your eyes and unbuckle your seatbelt. “Not a chance,” you reply and lean over the center console so you can grip his shoulders. “You’re leaving for two months soon, everyone wants to see you before your deployment.”

Bradley sighed but quickly lightened up when you leaned further in and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. When you pulled away far too soon for his liking, he placed his hands on either side of your face and guided you back into another, much longer kiss. He groaned as he deepened it, one hand sliding down to grip your waist through your thin tank top. “Come on, baby, let’s just go home,” he nearly begged and you laughed as you pulled away from him.

“No, Bradley,” you say and place your palm flat against his mouth when he tries to kiss you again. “A few hours with your friends won’t kill you, then after that we’ll leave.”

“We’ll stay for two hours, max,” he told you as he opened the door and took your hand in his when you met him around the front of the Bronco. “Then I’m taking you home.”

“Bradley,” you warned as he led you down towards the sand.

“What? We’ll see them later at the Hard Deck, anyway,” he waved off your eye roll as he pulled you along with him. “They don’t need to take away any more of my alone time with you today.”

You shake your head and hold back a smile as you finally make it down to the beach. As soon as your feet touched the sand you were lifted off the ground and spun around. Your hand slipped from Bradley’s and you grip Jake’s shoulders as he embraces you, laughing as he wraps his arms around your middle. “Hey, sweetheart,” he grinned up at you. “Missed you.”

He sets you down and winks up at your boyfriend when Bradley gives him an unimpressed look. “You saw me a few days ago,” you pointed out and Jake just shrugged.

“I used to see you a lot more than that,” he responded as he backed away from you. “I can’t believe Rooster stole you from me twice now.”

“Seresin,” Bradley muttered as he pulled you back into his side.

“Bradshaw,” the blond said back before grinning at you again and walking towards the group of aviators that were further down the beach.

The two men still weren’t on the best terms after the quick bar brawl that occurred at the Hard Deck a mere three months ago. Sure, they spoke to each other while at work, but outside of work they avoided each other even more than before. They were somewhat friends back when Jake introduced you to Bradley, and had grown a bit close during the five months you two were unofficially together, but after Bradley fucked it up with you, Jake had completely shut down any chance of a proper friendship forming between the two of them.

It was unfortunate, as you and Jake are very close and now it was no secret that you and Bradley were head over heels for each other. Bradley wanted to try and mend the broken friendship between him and Jake just for you to be reassured that the two most important men in your life weren’t at each other’s throats whenever you aren’t around, but Jake never gave him the time of day.

Three months of that and it really pissed Bradley off, enough to the point where he stopped trying and now just accepted that the brief encounters he had with the other aviator at work and at the Hard Deck would be all that would happen between them.

“Fucking Hangman,” he muttered as he glared at Jake’s retreating form through his aviators. He was dreading this next deployment, simply because Jake will be there with him, and because he’ll be away from you.

“Hey,” you scold as you deliver a gentle nudge to his ribs with your elbow. He caught it in his hand and pulled your body back to his, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. Your words die on your tongue when he tugs you forward until your chest is pressed right up against his and your hands slide upwards to grip his biceps.

“God, I wanna take you home so badly right now,” he mumbled against your mouth before kissing you again.

“Hey, Rooster! Give the poor girl a break, man, and get over here. We’re just about to start another round of dogfight football,” Fanboy called out from his spot near the water.

You pull away with a teasing smirk, patting him on his chest as you back away. “Ooh, sounds fun,”

Bradley’s hands fall from their place on your hips and he bites down on his lip as you walk towards where Nat is sitting. He watches as you bend down and place your towel next to hers, not even giving him a second glance as you fall into a conversation with her.

“Bradshaw, let’s go, man, she’ll still be there after the game,” Payback yells over the chatter of the group.

Both you and Nat smirk at Bradley and he curses under his breath as he pulls off his white tee and tosses it at you. You catch it with a surprised laugh and stuff it into the tote bag you brought.

Bradley joins in on the game and ends up covered in sand and had initiated more than one dogpile during the thirty minutes he participated in. You chatted with Nat the whole time, but you couldn’t really be blamed for not being able to take your eyes off your extremely attractive and fit boyfriend.

You had to refrain from moaning at the sight of him when you were right next to his best friend, and that was a hard task in itself. Bradley caught your eye every once in a while and sent you a smirk every time. The urge to not jump on him in the middle of the game was even harder to resist.

When the sun loomed higher in the sky and heated up the whole beach, you decided to rid yourself of your tank top and jean shorts. After shoving them in your bag as well you settle back down against your towel just as you hear Fanboy yell, “Come on, Bradshaw, we were winning! Where are you even going?”

That made you look up and watch as Bradley begins to splash water on himself to wash away the sand from his body. You bite your lip harshly as you take in his wet skin and heat up from both the sun and the way Nat laughs from her spot next to you.

Once he is decently cleaned from both the sand and sweat, Bradley walks right past the group of guys and heads in your direction. “Alright, we lost Rooster,” Fanboy announced as he turned back towards the others. “Round three? Phoenix, you want in on this one?”

Nat sprung up instantly and took Bradley’s place, slapping him on the shoulder as she passed him. “Nice job at keeping your hands to yourself for over five minutes, Bradley,” she joked and he barely gave her an eye roll before he was towering over you and blocking the sun from your eyes.

You gaze up at him with a teasing smile. “Oh, hey,” you greet. “All done with the game?”

He grunts and moves so he’s sitting next to you on the towel. “Yeah,”

“That’s too bad,” you pout as you move over to make more room for him, but he just slides closer to you. “I was enjoying the free entertainment.”

“You’re the reason it ended early,” he said and you scoffed.

“As if,” you laughed. “You were busy beating Jake and Coyote and then the next second you’re quitting and walking towards me.”

He gives you a pointed look before raking his eyes up and down your body in an obvious nod as to why he stopped the game early. “Because you look like this,”

You glanced down at your red two piece and shrugged. “You’ve seen me in less than this, Bradley,”

“I know,” he rasped, moving even closer to you until his cold side was pressed to yours. You weren’t sure what caused you to shiver, his cool skin or the fact that he couldn’t seem to stay away from you today. “But you look so hot right now. It’s making me jealous that the rest of the guys get to see you like this.”

“God, you’re clingy,” you complain in a lighthearted tone and push him away from you, but it might as well have been a light tap as he barely moved an inch.

“I told you that you’d become sick of me,” he smirked. “Just living up to my end of the deal.”

Before you could reply with a smart remark, he was closing the distance and kissing you hard. His aviators pressed uncomfortably against your nose and you pulled away and tugged them off his face before kissing him again.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he muttered as he kissed you deeply.

When he tries to pull you onto his lap you pull away and push at his shoulders. “No, you’re cold,”

“Then come in the water with me,” he suggested with a boyish grin.

“You’re wearing those in the water?” You nodded at his denim shorts as he stood up and held his hand out to you.

“Yeah, why not?” He asked as he pulled you to your feet. You placed his aviators over your own eyes as you looked up at him, lacing your fingers with his. “Would you rather me wear nothing at all?”

“Always,” you answer right away and he just smirks at you. “Let me get in at my own pace, Bradley.”

He hummed as he led you towards the water, and his lack of reply had you raising a brow.

“I’m serious,” when he glanced down at you and didn’t bother hiding his look of mischief, you stopped walking and begin to pull on his hand. “Don’t bother.”

But you were kidding yourself if you thought your strength could match his. Within seconds he had picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, making you yell out as you caught his aviators before they fell from your face.

“Bradley! Stop!” You nearly scream as he makes his way towards the water. “Please!”

Your pleads fell on deaf ears as he carried you closer to the water and the others were no help as they watched with grins at your misfortune. Even Jake wore a small smirk as Bradley grabbed his aviators from your hand and dropped them onto the sand without a care in the world. “They won’t help you, sweet girl,” Bradley said in a mocking tone.

“Bradley, I swear-” but you weren’t able to finish your warning before he was in the water with you still over his shoulder. You squeal loudly when you feel the cold splashes against your bare skin, and you briefly wonder how he was able to walk into the small waves as if they weren’t cold at all. “Oh, my God! Bradley.”

You were still pleading with him to stop, even as he was at waist level with the water. A few seconds later he was throwing your body into the cold water and you were met with his grinning face when you resurfaced.

Glaring up at him, you shiver instantly as you stand in front of him. “Stupid ass,” you mutter and splash him when he just laughed loudly at your insult.

He caught your hand when you went to splash him again and pulled your body against his. Instead of immediately pulling away from him you wrap your arms around his waist as his body is still somehow warm, even in the water.

You cling onto his warmth as the water splashes around your bodies, his heated skin soothing yours.

The others went back to the game after watching you get helplessly thrown into the water, so it just felt like you and Bradley at the moment. “I’m sorry,” he murmured in your ear as he held you. “But now you look even hotter.”

You shake your head and nuzzle closer to him. “Whatever helps you sleep at night,”

“You help me sleep at night,” he replied and you smiled up at him. “I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next two months without you.”

“At least you’ll have Jake,” you offer and laugh at the emotionless look he gave you. “We’re swapping best friends for this one. Nat and I already have so many girl days planned, we’ll hardly realize you’re not here.”

Bradley scoffed. “Yeah, right,” he says. “You’ll know I’m gone when you’re trying to get yourself off without me there to do it for you.”

You gasp and look around as if you and he weren’t surrounded by water and way more than a couple of meters away from the shore. “You can’t say that to me,” you whine quietly. “Especially not in public.”

“You started it, sweet girl,” he shrugged as he gripped your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist under the water.

You throw your arms around his neck and press a soft kiss to his lips. “I will think about you every second of every day until you come home,” you tell him and hug him a bit tighter. “I won’t be able to sleep without you, either.”

He smiled at you and kissed you again, lifting one hand from your hip to caress the side of your face. “Good to know you still want me,”

“I will always want you,” you promise and press a kiss to his cheek and then another one to the skin just below his ear. “Tell you what, we’ll stay another hour here and then you can take me home and let me show you just how much I’ll miss you.”

Bradley pretty much spent the next hour in the water, even well after you made your way back to the shore. Your words, of course, went right through him and caused him to become hard, even in freezing cold water.

You willingly went with him when he finally got out and pulled you along the trail back to the Bronco after a brief goodbye to everyone else.

The whole ride back home he had his left hand tightly gripping the steering wheel while his right one touched every part of you that it could. You were both so needy for each other and it was evident by the way he barely had the car in park before he was tugging you inside and pushing you up against the closed front door.

His lips captured yours in a searing kiss as his hands gripped the backs of your thighs. He lifted you up as if you weighed nothing at all and pressed you harder against the wood, his bare chest pressed to your semi covered one. You had both passed on the idea of putting your shirts back on and left them in your bag that was still in his backseat. You had only managed to slip your shorts back on by the time he had pulled you up from the towel and led you back to the Bronco, but even those you had failed to zip up and button as Bradley was far too impatient.

He pulled you away from the door and carried you down the hall to his room. It was a trip he had made countless times before, and he seriously couldn’t believe he had almost let you slip away because of his commitment issues.

When he made the short walk to his bedroom by himself not too long ago after he returned home from his deployment, he felt so bad about himself and hated how he treated you. He hated not seeing your things in there and he hated sleeping alone, even if it was just for one night and he was drunk.

To think that it was no longer just his bedroom, but one he shared with you… the thought had his head swirling with need for you. Taking you to bed just felt so much better now, and while he would never forgive himself for how he acted towards you, he couldn’t be more grateful for the outcome of it all.

His shorts were still damp as he pressed his body against yours after laying you down in the middle of the bed. You didn’t care as he pressed kisses all along your shoulders and neck. “Bradley,” you moaned.

“I’m going to miss that sound,” he rasped as he sucked a mark onto the base of your throat. “Gonna miss you so much.”

He would probably miss you more than last time, seeing as he wasn’t sure if he had a chance with you after what he did. Now that he knew you would be here when he got back, he knew he would miss you twice as much. Especially since he would be returning to a home filled with both yours and his things.

“Just come back to me,” you whispered as he trailed kisses down your chest until his lips were pressed against the skin above your shorts. “That’s all I ask of you, Bradley.”

“You know I can’t promise you that, baby,” he murmured as he pulled the denim down your legs and dropped them to the floor. You whine softly, both from the feeling of his kisses on your inner thighs and from his words you knew were honest and true. You couldn’t ask him to promise to always come home, and you understood that, but it didn’t make it any easier. “But I can promise to always give it my all and to do everything I can to get back to you. I’ll do that every time. I always will.”

He tugs your red bikini bottoms down and drops them to the floor as well before you’re pulling him back up by his biceps. “Then that’s more than enough for me,” you promise and kiss him deeply. One of his hands slips down and his middle finger begins to gently rub circles onto your clit, making you moan against his mouth and pull him closer. “I love you so much, Bradley.”

His middle and index fingers run up and down your folds before slowly slipping inside. “I love you, sweet girl,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the love bite he had given you on your neck. “I always have.”

Bradley kisses all over your chest and nudges your nipples through the thin fabric of your bikini top with his nose. You whine quietly at the feeling and run your hands through his hair, bucking your hips up in time with the gentle thrusts of his hand.

“I always will,” he continues and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly.

“Bradley,” you gasp when he uses his free hand to push up your flimsy top in order to wrap his lips around your hardening peaks. You take it upon yourself to arch your back and reach around to pull the string of the top, tossing it onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

With your body completely bare, Bradley grunts deeply as he gently tugs on your nipple with his teeth, taking in the way your hands moved to cling to his biceps.

You were beyond soaked for him at this point and it could be heard with every fuck of his hand, and the sound only spurred him on. He still couldn’t believe that he had managed to get you back and that you still want him as much as he wants you.

His mouth travels downwards again and places kisses to various parts of your body before settling on your clit. You moan loudly and tug on his hair as his lips suck gently on your nerves in time with the movement of his hand. He curls his fingers inside you and the small pinch has you clenching tightly around him, your walls sucking his digits even deeper.

“Feels good?” He asks, knowing damn well that he was skilled with his mouth and fingers.

You still give in, though. “Fuck yes, Bradley, feels so good,”

He smirks against you before speeding up the pace of his hand and fucking his fingers into you. Keeping his mouth on your core, Bradley tilts his head back a bit and you knew right away what he was trying to get you to do without him needing to say it.

You tangle your fingers in his hair and tug a bit harder than before, feeling him hum in appreciation against your clit. “That’s it, baby,” he praised and kissed your inner thighs. “You know me so well, huh?”

“You’re mine,” was all you managed to get out, and the prideful grin he gave you had your legs trying to squeeze shut around his head.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he agreed and leaned back down to your throbbing clit. “Now come on my fingers.”

“Fuck, I want to so bad,” you whine, out of breath from the pressure that was steadily building deep within you. “Want you to make me come.”

“I’ll get you off, baby,” he promised, smirking up at you. “Like I always do.”

“God,” you gasp as the coil snaps a bit unexpectedly. You had been turned on since he took his shirt off at the beach all those hours ago, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise that you didn’t last very long. “Fuck, Bradley, fuck.”

He kissed the skin of your stomach as he slowly fucked you through your high, breathy praises leaving his lips as he stared up at you. “Good girl,” he murmured, placing an open mouthed kiss to your ribcage before hovering back over you. “My good fucking girl.”

You moan against his mouth when he kisses you hard, his mustache pricking the skin above your upper lip in the best way. “Bradley, please,” you beg against his lips. “Please, fuck me. I need it.”

He groaned loudly and pulled away so he could unzip his shorts. He practically throws them to the floor before he’s back on top of you, his mouth kissing all over your collarbones and shoulders. “I need it, too,” he confessed, settling in between your legs and teasing your wet folds with his tip. “I need you all the time. Gonna think about you every fucking second I’m gone.”

You whimper at both his promise and the sensitivity that shot through you at the feeling of his dick grazing your swollen clit.

Your lips were puffy as his met them in a searing kiss before slipping inside you with a sharp thrust. Moaning against his mouth, you wrap your legs tightly around him and grip either side of his face in an attempt to get him impossibly closer to you.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he grunts, fucking into you at a steady pace. “Still so tight for me, no matter how many times I fuck you.”

Your eyes blur for a second as you take in his words, and as your walls take him in general. “All for you,” you weakly murmur.

“All for me,” he repeated, rocking his hips against yours at a bruising pace. “All mine.”

He pressed his lips to the base of your throat and sucked another mark there, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to cover it up before heading over to the Hard Deck in a couple hours.

Even though damn near everyone knew that you were his, Bradley still loved seeing the physical proof of it.

Your needy whines spurred him on and made him want to please you in every single way he could. He kissed all over your shoulders and reached one hand down to grip your thigh as he wrapped your leg tighter around him. “I wanna stay here with you forever,” he rasped. “Just like this.”

“You can,” you manage to say as he fucked into you so good. “I’ll be here when you come back, Bradley. Always. I’m yours.”

Bradley grunted deeply, hiking your leg up higher. “You always know just what to say to me, sweet girl,” he commented as he slowed down a bit to prolong this as much as he could.

Yeah, you and he would need to get ready to go to the Hard Deck soon, but he would put a night like this with you over getting drunk with his friends anyday.

He wasn’t in a rush, wasn’t fucking you quick and hard to ensure you weren’t late arriving to the bar like always. He was taking his time, loving on you in all the ways he would miss out on for the next two months after this.

Your walls noisily suck him in deeper, your previous orgasm providing him with all he needed to fuck into you hard and slow. Bradley’s eyes trail downwards, skimming past the two hickeys on your throat so he can watch the way he disappeared in you. “Fuck, look at that,” he said, more to himself. “Taking me so well, aren’t you?”

You moan and arch your back a bit, scraping your nails down his biceps.

He grunted at the sting. “There you go, baby,” he praised, cursing under his breath when he felt you clench down tightly around him. “Fucking claw me, give me something to remember you by for the next two months.”

“Bradley,” you cry out, wrapping your arms around him and digging your nails into the skin of his back.

He grinned at you, nudging your nose with his. “You were made for me,” he muttered, bracing both of his forearms on either side of your head. “Just for me.”

“Just for you,” you agreed breathlessly.

Bradley groaned at how submissive and responsive you always got when he fucked you like this. With each drag of him against your tight walls you were slowly losing yourself to the blinding pleasure that came with being filled so well. “I need more than just your scratches,” he concluded, watching the way his dick became more coated with your wetness each time he pulled out of you. “You should let me take a picture.”

You whimpered, leaning up to kiss along his neck. “Do it,” you encouraged his sinful idea with a teasing smirk.

He pulled away from your body with a deep groan as he reached for his phone. Keeping himself still buried within you, he points the camera downwards until it’s focused on your wet core.

He only was able to take one photo before you were giving him another idea. “Take a video, Bradley,” you purred, pushing on his shoulders. “Record how good you fuck me.”

Bradley exhaled harshly through his nose as he moved so he’s kneeling on the bed, your thighs spread wide and revealing your sopping entrance. He places one hand on your hip as he sits back and hits record, giving your drenched heat a slow fuck of his hips.

His fingers dig into your skin as he begins to thrust into you again, his eyes fixated on the screen of his phone as it captured the dirty act in top tier quality. “Look how wet you are, baby,” he comments as both you and him glisten as the lights reflect off your wetness. “Feel it?”

“Yes,” you answer and reach a hand out to wrap around the wrist of his that wasn’t holding the phone. “Feels so good, Bradley.”

He grunts as he gives another quick thrust, looking away from the camera and at the way your breasts bounced from the rough movement. “Say my name again,” he demands in his deep voice.

You moan as you comply, “Bradley,”

“Again, baby,” he requests, nearly dropping the phone when you tighten around him once more. “Who’s fucking you so good right now?”

“You,” you practically cry out. “You, Bradley.”

He moves his hand from your hip so his thumb can rub against your throbbing and sensitive clit, watching as your whole body shudders. “That’s right, sweet girl,” he muttered and couldn’t wait to watch this video once he stopped recording it. He knew he would be watching it on a nightly basis once he was stuck on that damn carrier for eight weeks.

“Bradley,” you gasped and reached for him. “Touch me, please.”

At the sound of your begs, he doesn’t bother stopping the recording when he drops his phone onto the bed next to you. He hovers over you and starts fucking into you harder than before, knowing that it wouldn’t be visible in the video, but your sweet sounds would definitely be heard. He could handle having to picture your body in his mind as long as he got to hear the sounds you only made for him.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your hands in his hair. “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you warned in a highpitched voice.

“I want it,” he nearly begs as he holds himself above you by his elbows. “Want you to come all over me, wanna feel it.”

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out and pull harshly on his hair as you come. “Fuck.”

Bradley locked his jaw as he held back his own orgasm, still roughly fucking into you as you try to come down from your high. “Good girl,” he said sweetly and your head spun as you weakly reached for his phone.

You grab it and angle it so the camera is capturing the image of him continuing to rock into you. You whimper at the sensitivity and open your legs wider so the video can really capture just how drenched you are for him.

Bradley groaned loudly as he leaned down to kiss you. You kiss him back and take your eyes off the screen, now blindly recording him as he fucked you hard and deep. “Come for me, Bradley. Inside me,” you requested in a quiet voice when you pulled away. “Knock me up on camera.”

You were on the pill, but your words still went right through him. He gave a few more deep thrusts before he was spilling into you, his seed reaching the deepest part of you.

He let out a throaty groan as he moved back so you can record the way his come spilled out of you when he pulled out. He took the phone from you so he could get a better angle, then nearly dropped it again when you reached down to swipe your finger through the mess. His phone followed your hand as you lifted it back up to your mouth and sucked the digit clean, giving the camera a sheepish smile afterwards.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped as he finally stopped the recording and dropped his phone back down onto the bed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to watch that when I know the real thing is waiting for me at home.”

You shrug and sit up, placing a kiss to his chest. “It will get you by while you’re away,” you murmur and lick a stripe up his neck. “I want you to think of me when you touch yourself.”

“There’s no one else I could ever think about,” he swore, wrapping his arm around your waist as you suck a mark on his shoulder. “Especially not after that.”

You grinned and leaned further up so you could kiss him. He deepens it by reaching up to angle your head for better access to your mouth. “We need to get ready,” you inform him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as you crawl off the bed and wander into the bathroom.

Bradley sighs deeply, running a hand through his messy hair as he picks up his phone. He debates on whether or not he should play the video now, just to see if it came out alright, but he knew it would just make him hard again, and he actually did want to see Nat before he left for two months.

He ends up getting off the bed and dressing himself in jeans and a Hawaiian button up as he waits for you to emerge from the bathroom. When you do, he holds out one of his old tees to you. “Wear this tonight,” he suggests and you take it from him.

“What,” you laugh as you slip the shirt over your head. “The two hickeys you gave me aren’t enough to show that I’m taken? I have to wear your clothes now?” You were just teasing as you both knew how much you loved wearing his shirts.

“No,” he answered as he pulled you close to him. “I just like the way you look in my clothes.”

Truthfully, he wanted to erase the last time you wore his shirt to the Hard Deck. That was the last good night he spent with you before shattering your heart and nearly ruining everything you and he had. He wanted to replace that night with an even better one.

“Hm, okay,” you hum, leaning up to kiss him quickly before moving away to finish getting dressed.

“There you are!” Nat called as she watched you and Bradley enter the Hard Deck hand in hand. “Took you guys long enough.”

Bradley smirked as he thought about why you and he were late again. “We were a bit busy,” he said and loved how the physical proof of what made you late was in a file on his phone that was in his pocket.

“I don’t even want to know,” she cringed and began walking back towards the pool table. “Rooster, come over here and get your ass kicked in the next round.”

Bradley rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to your temple before standing on the opposite end of the table with Nat across from him. “That’s your specialty, not mine,” he grinned and looked over at you.

You smile and gesture towards the bar. “You want a beer?”

“Just one,” he answers and watches as you begin to make your way through the crowd of aviators.

He was getting flashbacks to the last night he spent with you before his latest deployment, and he wanted to take you back home and promise you that he wasn’t going to make that same mistake again.

“Jeez, Bradshaw, you can’t keep your eyes off her for more than a second, huh? It’s your turn,” Nat broke him out of his trance by poking him with the tip of her pool cue. “She’s wearing your shirt, I see.” She adds when he finally gets into position and lined up his shot.

“You’re very observant, Nat,” he mumbled as he sank one of the solid colored balls.

“I’m just saying,” she held her hands up as she walked around the table. “You seem happier this time around. I guess that comes with finally making things official.”

Bradley couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his face as he glanced over at you. Your arms were braced against the top of the bar as you waited for Penny to pour the beers, and you had a small smile on your lips as you stared at the floor. “I’m so in love with her, Nat,”

His best friend nudged his side with her elbow. “I know you are,” she said as he stood up and placed the cue against the table before beginning to make his way over to you. “Hey, that doesn’t mean you can just ditch our game! I was winning.”

But Bradley was already towering over you and taking one of the beers from your hand when you turned around. You jump slightly, nearly spilling your own beer as you look up at him. “I was going to bring that over to you,”

He takes a sip from the glass and shrugs, wrapping you up in his free arm and pulling you into his side. “It had been too long,”

“I was literally gone for less than a minute,”

“That just proves my point,” he replied as he pulled you towards the pool table. “I should be spending every second with you until tomorrow morning. Deployment rules.”

You scoffed. “You just made that up,”

He winked at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I won’t tell if you won’t,”

“Never,” you say and nuzzle closer to him. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Bradley presses his lips to the top of your head as Nat gets into position at the opposite end of the pool table. “I’m going to miss you, too, sweet girl. Every single day,” he swore. “The next two months are going to be so lonely without you.”

You lift a brow and give him a teasing smirk. “They better be,”

“You two are seriously so cute, I might actually throw up,” Nat muttered as she set down her pool cue. “So on that note, I’m going to get a drink. I’ll see you later, Bradshaw. Don’t get on that carrier without saying goodbye to me. I mean it.”

She pointed her finger at Bradley, who laughed and gave her a thumbs up. “Wouldn’t dream of it,”

You and Bradley stayed for about an hour after that before he caved and took you back home, where he spent the rest of the night loving you in every way possible and already trying to make up for lost time.

The next morning, after saying a quick goodbye to Nat, you and Bradley were off to the shipping dock once more.

It was hard to believe that the last time you were here with him was when you had given your heart to him and he had given it right back to you after damn near shattering it completely.

How he managed to get you back after that, he’ll never know.

It was clear that Bradley was also having a hard time standing on the dock and it was obvious that he, too, was thinking back to that awful day that almost cost him you forever.

He dropped his bag and turned to you when he was a few feet away from the ramp, his hands instantly finding their home on your hips. Yours come up to rest on his chest as you try to compose yourself as best as you could manage. “This is it, pretty girl,” he mumbled as he pulled your body close to his.

You nod and wrap your arms around his middle. “I love you, Bradley,” you whisper, unsure if he even heard you as countless other people sent off their loved ones around you.

He did, though. “I love you more,” he said back and kissed the top of your head, lingering there for a few seconds so he could inhale the sweet scent of your conditioner. When he pulled away, he was met with the sight of your teary eyes. “It’s okay, baby. We can handle two months.”

You shake your head and look up at him. “It’s not that,” you murmur, blinking away the tears as best as you could. “I was just thinking about the last time we were on this dock. Feels like it was yesterday.”

Bradley’s heart broke a bit at your words and he wanted to take you into his arms again, but refrained from doing so as he thought about his next move. His pocket felt heavy, even though the object was as light as a coin, and his heart quickly began to beat a bit faster.

His face heated up as he took one hand off your waist in order to rummage around in his pocket. “It’s not like last time,” he promised as his fingers felt the cool metal.

“I know, but still,” you trail off, furrowing your brows as he continues to feel around in his pocket.

“It’s not like last time,” he repeated in a breathy tone as he pulled his hand free. “Because you didn’t have this last time.” He held up a ring that reflected in the rising sunlight, the small object making your mouth part in a silent gasp.

“Bradley,”

“I’m sorry,” he said as he got down on one knee right there on the dock. He didn’t care about the many people rushing around him as he focused his full attention onto you. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Your eyes fill with tears once more as he takes your left hand in his. “Bradley,” you say again, at a loss for words as he held the ring between his thumb and index finger.

“I love you, and I love that you’re the one I get to come home to,” he says, him being the one to wear his heart on his sleeve this time around. “I hope I can return to you as your fiancé, if you’ll say yes.”

Your eyes widen and tears freely fall as you bend down to grab either side of his face. “Are you kidding me?” You ask with a laugh and kiss him hard. “Of course I’ll say yes. I’m saying yes.”

Bradley’s arms were around you in seconds as he stood back up to his full height, taking you up with him and lifting you off the ground slightly. Neither of you paid any attention to the smiling strangers around you as they witnessed your acceptance of the ring, your lips pressing together in a salty kiss. “Yeah?” He asked when he pulled away but kept you close to him.

“Yes,” you confirm and he took it upon himself to slide the pretty ring onto your finger. “God, I love you so much.” You say and jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing him again.

He kissed you back as if this was his last time doing so, his arms caging your body tight against his. “I love you,” he says back, kissing you a couple more times as he sees people beginning to board the carrier next to him. “I gotta go, baby. But I’m coming back to you. I’m coming back to my fiancée.”

“Stop,” you whine against his mouth. “How am I supposed to let you leave now?”

He grinned and peppered kisses all over your face. “Just know I’m going to be thinking about you every single second,” he swore as he set you back down.

You nod and grab his bag. “Be careful,” you beg as you hand it to him.

“Always,” he said as he took his bag and pressed a final kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you,”

“No fucking way,” Jake muttered as he threw his bag onto his bunk. “You gotta be kidding me.”

Bradley rolled his eyes from his place on his bed. “Cheer up, Hangman,”

Jake rolled his eyes as he sat down and ruffled his pillow. “How the fuck did we end up as bunkmates,” he muttered under his breath. “I was fine with being deployed with you, but not sleeping in the same room as you.”

Bradley wanted to bite back with some witty remark, but held off as he thought about you and how close you are to the guy beside him. For some reason you adored this guy, and he would just have to accept that Jake Seresin would always be in his life as long as he was in yours, and he planned on being with you for the rest of his days.

He already missed you so much. If he really concentrated and closed his eyes, he was sure he’d still be able to smell the vanilla perfume you wore whenever you left the house.

The same house he now shared with you, officially.

Man, is he whipped.

It hadn’t even been half an hour and he already craved you beyond words. The video you and he made weighed heavily in his pocket, and he was tempted to watch it now. You got him hard without even being in the same room as him, and he knew he wouldn’t last long when he got the chance to watch the video, but having Jake share the same room as him was definitely a mood killer.

He just hoped he would get the chance to be alone for at least a small portion of this deployment.

Bradley debated on whether or not he should just leave the room and only come back when it was time for bed, but he also knew he was going to have to face Jake at some point.

“This is getting old,” he said as he looked over at Jake. “Why are you still so pissed off with me?”

Jake sat up a bit straighter. “I said it before. Just because Y/n forgave you doesn’t mean I will,” he answered. “You weren’t there, man. She was….messed up. You fucked her up, Bradshaw. It was hard to see her like that and know it was partly my fault since I’m the one who brought you into her life.”

Bradley sat up from his lying position and faced his bunkmate. “I know I fucked up, alright? I know. I thought about it every single day while I was gone. It killed me to know that I made her feel like she wasn’t enough and that I wasn’t there to tell her that I didn’t mean it,” he rasped, his mind going back to how rude he was to you that day. He was such an ass, and you truly didn’t deserve any of it, much like how he simply didn’t deserve you. That never changed. “If I’m being honest, I’m glad she had you after how I left things. Even if you are a prick sometimes.”

“Wow, Bradshaw,” Jake said sarcastically. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

Bradley grunted in response, unsure of how you put up with this literal child. He thought about what to say next, knowing he didn’t want the next eight weeks to be tense and awkward between the two men. Without thinking too much more, he says, “I asked her to marry me,”

That had Jake’s eyes widening. “Damn, Bradshaw, you don’t waste any time, do you?” He asked as he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. After a few more seconds he asked, “What did she say?”

Bradley smiled at the memory of you jumping on him in front of everyone on that dock and how he helped erase the previous experience, successfully replacing it with a better one. He wished he had thought to take a picture of you wearing the ring, just so he could have something sweet to look at after all the dirty photos, but he also knew there will be time for that later. “She said yes,”

Jake blew out a huff of breath, nodding afterwards. “That’s great, man,” he didn’t sound too thrilled, but he also didn’t sound too pissed. A quiet grunt of disbelief left him before he said, “Just don’t hurt her again.”

He then moved to lay back on his bed, pushing his bag and letting it land on the floor. “Jake,” Bradley said, his voice more serious than it had been the night they got into that altercation. “I won’t hurt her ever again. I can promise both you and her that. You still don’t give a shit about me, and that’s fine, but we both love her, so we need to learn how to get along. This is my attempt.”

Jake huffed, a bit annoyed at the fact that he knew Bradley was right. “Yeah, I guess so,” he muttered, reaching behind him and resting his head on his hands. “For some reason she seems to actually love you, so I guess she’s about as smart as your dumb ass.”

Bradley laughed, a genuine sound that had Jake holding back a small smile of his own. “Thanks,” he said under his breath. “I mean it, Hangman. I won’t fuck it up again. She’s it for me.”

Jake looked over at him and studied his face for a while, noting just how serious he was. He lets out a sigh before saying, “Alright, man. Stick to that promise and give me a warning when you need the room to yourself for a few hours and we might actually survive the next two months,” he says, continuing when Bradley just laughed, “I’m serious. I’d rather not walk in on you jerking off to whatever sick thought is going through your head.”

Bradley reached into his pocket. “Don’t worry, I won’t be thinking about that kind of thing too much,” he says, holding his phone up and smirking. “That’s what this is for, so I don’t have to think about it.”

Jake looked confused for a second before he clued in to the fact that he was insinuating that you had given Bradley plenty of viewing material. He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he tried to fight off a grin. “Fuck, this is going to be a long deployment,”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun rooster #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #top gun au #top gun maverick #top gun 2022 #miles teller

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qatarsprint2023 · 3 months

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Kiss it better— OP81

In which Oscar just needs some gentle affection from his girlfriend after a frustrating race. — Oscar Piastri x f!reader, fluff, comfort, established relationship, no use of y/n a/n: first time ever posting something on tumblr ahhh!! likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! word count: 1.3k

Oscar Piastri was never the type of man to show his feelings openly by becoming loud or maybe even feeling a few tears prick in his eyes. No, he just... got quiet, hoping people wouldn't notice he was disappointed and maybe even a bit sad. Just like today. Well, this entire weekend really, if you were being honest.

It had started out okay at best. Qualifying on Friday had been brought to an early close by the sudden and heavy rain which left your boyfriend to start from P10 in the race on Sunday. Sure, it was alright, but not as good as Oscar had hoped. Saturday wasn't much better either, with the Australian also finishing in 10th place, meaning no points for him in the Sprint race.

Then came Sunday. And that was... well, pretty much a disaster, if you had any say in this.

The Red Bull up front made a solid getaway right after the lights went out and held his lead, while Lando impressively shot up into P2 from P6 in his McLaren. There was a big collision behind, though, between Magnussen and Albon.

You weren't quite sure what had happened, being too shocked at the errupting chaos out on track. Somehow Hülkenberg had collided with Albon, which had basically catapulted the Williams into the other Haas car. Unfortunately Oscar had also been caught up in the incident, suffering a broken rear wing after being clipped by Magnussen.

Red flags were shown and you calmed a bit when you realised that Oscar's race wasn't over just yet. The McLaren mechanics did a great job fixing his car, so he could start from the pits and still participate in the race. Eventually he finished last, in 14th, after everyone behind him had DNF'd and he was almost two laps behind everyone else.

And that was when Oscar got quiet and masked his overwhelming sense of disappointment and frustration with a nearly indifferent mask.

In front of the cameras he was simply a bit upset he hadn't finished higher after an accident that hadn't even been his fault, but on the inside of his brain he was oh so frustrated. Why did he have to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? It had felt terribly embarrassing to be so slow and finish last after a couple of good races, but he didn't tell anyone about that. Not even you, even as you two went back to your hotel room later that day.

However you always knew when something was up with your man. Almost as if you had a sixth sense for lack of happiness or something like that. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes when he's upset, even when it would convince everybody else, his shoulders are just the tiniest bit slumped forward and he gets quiet. More quiet than usual.

As you entered your hotel room and the doors closed behind you with a slight click, the silence was hanging heavily in the air. You knew. You could almost physically sense his frustration, his disappointment, his anger at himself. He sat on the bed and didn't even look up at you, his gaze simply fixated straight ahead.

You slowly hung up your purse before taking off your shoes, just staying quiet and giving him some time to think and sort his thoughts. But after a few minutes you slowly moved to sit down next to him, your hand finding its way into his. The touch was soft. Gentle. It reassured him. He knew these hands would never let him down.

He hesitantly lifted his eyes, meeting your kind and gentle gaze for a second before they wandered back to the floor. He sighed and almost seemed to deflate, the disappointment and anger leaving his body as they were being replaced with something that was difficult to describe.

Silence filled the room as the two of you sat there on the soft mattress of the hotel bed, no words being exchanged for what felt like an eternity.

"Want me to kiss it better?" your soft voice that was as soothing and smooth as honey to his ears broke the silence.

Oscar's gaze was directed back towards you, his honey brown eyes filled with something you couldn't quite begin to describe, begging for you to somehow make everything disappear, to erase this entire day from the history books, as if that were even possible.

"Yeah..." he mumbled back in a whisper.

You reached over to cup his cheek with your right hand, making him lean against it as his eyes fluttered shut. You moved your head a bit closer to him and your lips hovered above his for just a moment as the tips of your noses brushed against each other gently. Finally you pulled him in and pressed a long, yet gentle kiss to his pillowy lips.

That soft kiss quickly turned into an attack of many, many small pecks all over his beautiful face in an attempt to make the Aussie break a smile. He squirmed a bit under the sudden wave of affection and tried to lean back to evade you, but his expression told a different story. Your lips against his felt comforting, safe, and most of all, reassuring, and he couldn't help but lean into the soft touch of your fingers against his cheek.

Your small and gentle kisses on his cheeks and eyelids and even his nose made him chuckle a bit and that was all the encouragement you needed to keep going. He tried to fight back with some pecks on your cheeks, nose and forehead, as if trying to say "I'm not a baby, stop that", but his soft laughter told a different story.

"S'many... you're smothering me..." he mumbled, still trying to avoid your kisses but failing miserably.

"'m not," you protested lightly as you kept brushing your lips against his skin, doing everything in your might to make him smile that gorgeous smile of his again.

"Yes. Yes, you are," he replied, his soft lips curling into a smile too, although he still tried to evade your kisses. Your little game made him feel good, if only just helping him momentarily forget about the recent bad race and the overall feeling of disappointment and embarrassment that had been weighing on his mind. You were always like this with him, the perfect girl to make all the troubles disappear and keep his mind calm, relaxed, and at ease, knowing he was in safe and loving hands.

After a few more moments you leaned in to press another kiss to Oscar's lips but missed them by a bit, so the act of affection landed on the corner of his mouth. Oscar let out a low groan as he shook his head and cupped your chin to turn your head, mumbling a soft "Hate it when you don't kiss me right..." against your lips.

That was true. He never liked corner of the mouth kisses. If it were his cheek he’d be fine with it, he gives those to you all the time. But the corner of his mouth?? It’s so close to an actual kiss that it's basically just you being a tease and he won't rest until he pulls you in for a proper kiss.

You giggle against his lips softly and pull back after that kiss. "Feel any better now?"

"Yeah, a bit," he mumbled as you pulled back, his hand that was still caressing your cheek dropping to your arm and you could feel him slowly nodding his head.

A deep sigh left Oscar's lips, a little bit of tension leaving his body now that you had kissed him more properly. His head tilted to the side and he turned his torso towards you, looking towards you and your eyes. A small smile formed on his lips, taking in your presence as he leaned in closer once again.

"Just one more..."

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #brazilian gp 2023 #mclaren #racing #motorsports #comfort #fluff #established relationship #f1 x reader #qatarsprint2023 #op81

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little-worm-grant · 4 months

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Spicy Steven: Rainy Day

Steven Grant x You (Fem!Reader)

1,864 words / 18+ only, no minors

Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: What if Steven got all embarrassed he couldn’t last?! It's far too easy to wind him up. But maybe you both girlbossed a little too close to the sun this time. Less plot, more smut.

Notes: Please be kind. First time publicly publishing smut. I was looking at my tame + wholesome masterlist thinking I should write something new for Steven. Then this filth was forced upon my innocent little swiss-cheese brain. You can take my keyboard away from me now. I’m sorry. But also you’re welcome.

Warnings: soft domme fem!reader, submissive Steven kind of but not totally??, teasing, fluff/praise, masturbation, piv sex, unprotected sex, premature ejaculation, creampie, cum play

You were lying naked on his bed. Rain pouring outside had caused you to stay over his place a few hours more. One thing led to another. You’d barely teased him but Steven was already crawling up your body. Kissing all the spots he’d missed going down. Tilting your head to catch sight of his thickened cock swinging between each movement. Your legs shift to squeeze against him in anticipation. You knew what was coming next and you couldn’t wait another second.

He was like some over-eager puppy given the okay to come up for air. That talented mouth of his became over-stimulation at this point. You once asked him what he thought about when he went down on you, expecting him to say something daft that would stop him from making a mess of the sheets. Instead, he told you he’d been writing how he felt about you in hieroglyphics. The sucking is just a bonus because he loved the taste of you. He didn’t need to do much to get your pussy to flutter. He never did make you work for it. If only he knew the power he held over you, he’d be downright dangerous.

Ever since the first time you’d gotten intimate with each of them, Steven was the only one to never tell you no. You sometimes worried you’d do something he wouldn’t like and he might not tell you as you cuddled together afterwards. When he looked back at you with those bold expressive eyes, it told you everything you needed to know. You realized all you wanted to do was take good care of him.

Steven clumsily crawled up to meet your lips. The taste of you on his tongue. His body shifted and an arm slithers between the two of you. A moment later, you feel him stroking his head across your soaked folds. Guiding himself home. You’ve been suffering through his fingers and his mouth already. More than ready to feel him fully.

When he takes a second too long for your patience, you order him to lie back.

Flipping positions. You help him down the last part of the way with a push and a smile. His cock had slipped out somewhere in the movements. Not a problem. You were up on your knees over him. Steven lay back, looking both entirely surprised to be there and not letting his focus up for what came next.

You reach down and give him a few exploratory pumps. Being gentle, starting from the head where most of the pre-cum and your fluids had accumulated. You use just your middle finger and thumb to smear it over his thick spongy head, dragging it down to the bundle of nerves to play with. Gentle back-and-forth motions. Steven jerked with his whole body. Quickly throwing his lip into a bite to hold back the noise. He wasn’t fooling anyone. You still heard it. Came out more like a whine.

“Pretty boy. How about another moan for me?” You coo. He looked back at you like a wounded animal. Those curls on his face framed him just right for the compliment.

“This ain’t on. You’ve been bloody teasing me all night.” He shook his head. His hands palmed at the bedsheets on either side of him. Even after all this time, he still never seemed to know what to do with his hands. Adorable.

You look away from him. Watching the rain beat down on the windows. Pretending not to know he’s there while you continue to stroke. He could tell you to stop if he wanted, but you both knew he wasn’t about to do that. Instead, he squirmed and tolerated it for as long as he could before his words managed to find the tip of his tongue.

“Please? I don’t want to be the twat that jizzes on himself because my girl’s stunning but she’s an absolute menace.”

Shuffling up a little more you stop stroking and kept your hand still around him. “Oh, I’m a menace, am I?” Offering a gentle squeeze. Steven squirmed without trying to move away, looking like he was about to burst then and there. His cheeks turn a lovely shade of red as he nodded and scrambled to find a comeback to say.

“Uh-huh. Yup- The kind that looks at a beautiful sunrise and tells it to buggar off for a few more hours sleep.”

“No-one needs to be making anything at that time my business. What’s that got to do with me being a menace?”

“It’s got everything to do with-“

You lined yourself up while he rambled. Sinking down on him without warning. Finding a way to shut him up. You slid down far as you could tolerate before you needed to slow down the last part of the way. The stretch tingled. You catch a stuttered breath in your throat.

“Oh- oh god.” He spluttered out. Hands flying away from the bedsheets to grip at your thighs, as if searching for some kind of stability. There was none. Him holding you like that wasn’t going to stop you. Hips wiggled slowly from side to side to fit yourself snugly onto him.

You grind down and start slow. Finding that pace you liked where his cock would hit the spot just right. Small noises came from him. Breathier ones from you. You’d barely started rocking against him before you felt him shudder. His eyes were rolled back and you felt his cock pumping a hot mess deep inside you.

Game over.

Steven held you a little tighter before releasing his grip. Face going pale. Surprising himself. “Shit- I am so so sorry.” He looked as mortified as he sounded. Hands coming up to cover his face he groaned.

You laugh lightly and shake your head at him. Stopping immediately to lower yourself down onto him to rest. Leaning down to bring your face in closer to his. Hands moved on his, guiding them away from his face to hold down against the pillow. Boy looked like he could use a hug. Instead, you squeeze his hands in yours. Rubbing your nose against his.

“Aw no, baby, don’t feel bad. It’s okay. I’m still having fun. You already got me off once, be proud of that.”

You shower his face in peppered kisses. His softer hands stroke up your sides. Could have mistaken him for Marc with all that guilt lining his features. You stroke his knuckles with your thumbs and kiss away his embarrassment once more. A little longer lasting this time.

“I’ll take the blame for that. I’ve been teasing you for ages. Or maybe I’m just that good you can’t control yourself around me.”

You move your hand away from him to pretend to wipe the glitter off your shoulder. Glitter was an inside joke you both shared regularly. That got a laugh out of him and you feel the movement of his softer cock slipping out from inside you. You shifted to the feeling of it. The mess he’d made coming with it. Pooling on his abdomen and leaking down your legs.

“You are so amazing.” He tells you. "Can I touch you?"

Nodding, you bite your lip when his hand wiggles out from under yours and goes down. Feeling his fingers immediately stroke over your used needy hole had you tensing up. You press into his touch. Steven leaned back up to meet your lips. Less desperate this time, more loving. You hear his words murmured against you.

“I feel bad I keep making a mess before you can finish.”

“Don’t be. Just means we need to try again, right?” You say more hopefully, a glint of a smile when you lean back to see him nod without any words. More concentrated on what he was doing to you.

You feel Steven’s fingers leaving you alone. Casting your eyes down to see what he was doing, you watch him scoop up some of the mess from his abdomen then bring it up to stuff back into you. The temperature difference was felt and caused you to shiver. The way his fingers lazily toyed with the cum on your pussy warmed you back up from the inside out.

He brought his other arm up behind his head to be able to watch better. Your hands stayed where they are, pressed into the pillow either side of him. His fingers caught cum drooling down your legs to spread over your pussy. Slow strokes before he’d go find some more, either from around you or inside. You were already wound up from everything, needing that blissful high he could put you into. Hips rocking, chasing his touch. A few more minutes of this had you trembling and him stiff as a rock again. Maybe he did know what to do with his hands after all.

This time. There was no waiting. No holding back. The moment Steven was aligning himself you were sinking down and seeking out that spot with more ferocity than you’d had before. Steven matched your rhythm with coordinated thrusts.

Pushing himself to sit up and catch your nipple in his mouth. He sucked sloppily, then moving up after your mouth. Hand slipped between you both again to play with you. Firmer. More in that way you'd shown him you liked. It was your turn to grip onto him for stability. Swallowing each other's moans and thrusting roughly until you both finished. You first, him following a few thrusts later.

The kisses turned softer. You lay back in bed together and stroked over each others bare skin. Air coming back to your lungs as you both come down from the clouds you were on.

You see him thinking loudly with that familiar distant stare. Off in his own world again. A moment later he was blinking as he snapped back into the moment, focusing back on you. You wait to see who it might be. His expression changed all shy and it made you laugh. Still Steven then.

“What?”

“I was just thinking. We should have more rainy days like this. But like, every day.”

“Yeah? I’d like that.”

“Wouldn’t need to leave if it was every day. This'd be your place too.”

“Is this your way of asking me to move in?”

“That’s uh- I think- I mean, yeah? I guess it is. What do you think?”

“Say it then. Ask me properly.”

“Alright.” He shifted onto his side. His hand in his hair to prop his head up and look down at you. “Will you move in with me?”

Without a beat, you smile and say, “No.” His face contorted up. You soften up your smile and squeeze him. “I need to talk to the others first. Otherwise, yes.”

“Had me for a second then… You flipping menace.” He dove down to tackle you with kisses and playful bites which have you squirming and unable to breathe through the laughter. Pushing back to try and pin him down. Wouldn't matter if it turned into something more. You both had all the time in the world. The perfect way to spend a rainy day.

#steven grant #oscar isaac #moon knight #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #mcu fanfiction #steven grant smut #mcu smut #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfiction #open rp #open starter #stevens pov

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